Chapter 18: Uninvited Guests (1/2)
Due to his role in their new dragon overlord’s administration, the locals had wisely ‘gifted’ Victor a large mansion overseeing the rest of Murmurin. Finally, the human’s life as a homeless adventurer had reached its end, at least until they claimed Furibon’s dungeon tomorrow.
And what a place it was! With three floors, a basement, and a roof, it was huge enough to welcome a lord’s entire retinue. Unlike the early medieval architecture of Gardemagne's manors, the place had been built in a later time's style, with wide rooms, black wood flooring, and a central velvet stair leading to the upper floors.
Victor had heard it once belonged to a dark wizard doing experiments in the basement though, and considering the dust around, the inhabitants hadn’t touched it in years. He better watch his back inside.
Victor entered the grand foyer with Savoureuse and twenty mindless, demonic skeletons in toes. “Go clean the place,” he ordered his servants, “No dust must remain.”
The automatons spread around as ordered. “And now I officially live in a ghost mansion,” Victor told Savoureuse, as they moved to explore the ground floor while the earth trembled. “Do you think Vainqueur smashed a succubus this time?”
“I don’t think Chocolatine can summon on—” Savoureuse suddenly chuckled. “Ah, I get it, smash a succubus!”
“You can’t imagine how much I missed someone laughing at my lame jokes,” Victor said, finding a large cozy room with an old fireplace and armchairs. “We had good times.”
“It’s not quite the same since you left, Vic. We’re taking a wrong turn since that Lavere woman arrived.”
“Wrong turn? The Nightblades are an outlaw ring. That’s pretty redundant.”
“Yes, but we respected the government,” Savoureuse said, Victor giving her a blank stare. “Okay, sometimes we put nobles through death traps, but who doesn’t? We didn’t take up arms against the King, because it was bad for business. But last time I was at our headquarter in Noblecoeur, there were talks of supplying Ishfania and the Scorchers with weapons.”
Well, Vainqueur shot that plan down.
Victor sat in one of the armchairs, finding it extraordinarily comfortable. “[Channel Hellfire]!” His finger fired a ray of ghastly blue flames at the fireplace, lighting up the leftover black wood.
That was the only Monster Perk he got out of this grueling training, and he earned it. He should have listened to the priests’ warning of fire and brimstone in his childhood.
“Do you want an omelet?” Savoureuse asked him.
“Sure.” The proposal couldn’t make Victor happier since she had many levels in the Cook class. Other Nightblades had fought to the death over her meals.
The reptile sat on the ground like a chicken. “Do you want me to go to another room?” Victor asked, embarrassed.
“No, it’s okay. I do it everywhere.”
Victor turned his eyes away from the sight still, finding a treasure chest in a corner of the room, overflowing with gold.
Yeah, right. Just a chest.
“Treasure!” the disguised mimic barked. “Treasure!”
As if Victor would fall for it. “You know, most adventurers are wary of chests nowadays,” the Monster Squire told the creature. “You should take the shape of a magic weapon, like a shiny sword, and you mustn’t make a sound.”
The chest apparently understood, for it repeated, “Shiny sword? Treasure?”
“Trust me, no adventurer can’t resist the appeal of a big shiny sword, especially if set in a stone.”
“You can understand mimics?” Savoureuse asked him, rising up to reveal a large, ostrich-like egg under her clothes. “It is very difficult to make them behave.”
“I think there are frying pans in the kitchen, and yes I can,” said Victor, before shouting, “Minions! Minions!”
A skeleton immediately rushed inside the room. The M-word had never felt so pleasurable. “Go get us kitchen tools,” Victor ordered, the undead immediately obeying.
The squire took it back. Mindless undead slaves made his life way easier than before.
“Sword treasure!” By now, the chest had morphed into a huge, outrageous two-handed sword made of pure gold and jewels. “Sword treasure!”
“Better, but too much,” Victor told it, who suddenly wondered how the mimic could talk without a mouth, “Try having a black metal edge and an elegant pommel. Don’t overdo it.”
“Sword treasure.” The mimic followed his instructions, becoming the perfect picture of a magical sword.
“Excellent. Now you shouldn’t have trouble getting food. Just don’t kill anything in the village, alright?”
“Sword treasure!” The sword purred and hopped out of the room like an animal, just as the skeletal servant came back with four frying pans. “Sword Treasure.”
Victor now had a pet.
On a whim, he called it Vainqueur Junior.
Congratulations! Through your teaching, Vainqueur Junior has gained a level in [Fencer]!
Really? Like that? Victor guessed [Minion Trainer] made it easy for monsters to gain class levels when following his directions. “Is this place the mimic school I heard of?”
“Yes, and I would avoid the beds if I were you.”
Victor suddenly wondered if disappearances in inns were caused by disguised mimics.
“Nothing better than a warm meal after a good day of training,” said Savoureuse, breaking her egg on the frying pan, before adding spice to her omelet. The skeleton stood there waiting, so Victor sent him away looking for plates and cutlery.
In total, Victor had gained six levels in Necromancer before hitting a Level glass ceiling like Vainqueur. The dragon still asked Chocolatine to summon more demons to calm himself after Furibon’s last visit.
Victor still couldn’t believe an ancient lich had nothing better to do with his time outside of pranking a dragon. He must be really, really bored in his dungeon.
“You little—” Victor heard Croissant’s voice from outside the room. The werewolf soon joined them, in human shape and with a bloody hand.
“Croissant, are you alright?” asked Savoureuse in worry. “What happened?”
“I found a sword laying on the ground, and it bit my hand when I tried to grab it! Then it ran off!”
Vainqueur Junior grew up so fast. “Sad,” Victor lied since he found some twisted pleasure in that jerk’s pain. “Why are you here?”
“I asked Vainqueur what we should run ourselves, now that we are all his minions and that we are going to run out of sheep. He answered, textually, ‘A dragon has no time for sub-minion management; I have a war to prepare for, so go to my chief of staff for directions.’ Then, he had my sister summon another demon and punched it.”
“So I’m basically your village’s mayor now. Wonderful.”
“Looks like it, pal. Also, the Moon Man’s followers are at the door, waiting for your ‘final revelation.’”
Victor let out a sigh. They had kept pestering him every time he wasn’t with Vainqueur, who scared them to death. “I will be their prophet later.”
“No hard feeling for that perk stuff, right? You brought Vainqueur here, so you kinda deserved it.”
“No, no hard feelings, since you will serve as our scout tomorrow.”
The werewolf blinked. “I’m what?”
“We are raiding the dungeon tomorrow. Your sister is coming too, but she’s going to be fine in the rear. As a rogue class, you will scout ahead for traps.”
“But I’m a [Ranger], not a trap finder! I hunt beasts, I do not disarm traps!”
“I know. I meant you will scout out traps by triggering them. Maybe next time, you won’t try to sacrifice your future commanding officer to a cult. Just saying.”
“You… you petty snake…”
“As a wise woman told me,” Victor smirked at him. “I wish you would go to hell, Croissant, but I think you are already there.”
Clenching his fists and fangs, the werewolf exited the room with fury in his eyes. “Merciful Isengrim, damn that dragon, damn his staff, damn them all…”
“That was very immature, Victor,” Savoureuse chided him, “Even if he deserved it.”
“Ah, it’s fine,” Victor replied. “We’ve both blown off steam, now we’re cool.”
“You look like you need a warm meal to ease you up,” said Savoureuse, who finished the omelet. “Here.”
“Thanks,” Victor replied, as he sat back in the armchair. “What else in on the menu—”
Of course, his stats appeared when he said that word.