(Second Book Complete!) Runeblade: A Delving & Skill Merging LitRPG

Kaius pecked at his slice of toast, aimlessly staring out the window of the Dusty Stables onto the street below. He wasn’t so much groggy at having had to get up early — not with his stats — as he was a little more distracted than normal.

It had been an interesting few weeks, full of training and lazy explorations of the city. They’d managed to get more than that done, of course. Just a few days ago they’d met with Ro and a few Guild attendants to sort through the items they’d pilfered from Old Yon’s vault. Most of the art, artefacts, and similarly notable items had been left at the Hall, while Ro worked with the local governor to ascertain previous ownership.

From what they’d been told, it was unlikely it would be possible — in which case, it would be theirs. Of the rest, they’d liquidated most of it. The drugs and toxins wouldn’t help in second-tier battles, and, while they’d kept a trifling of luxuries, coin suited them much better.

He’d been surprised at just how much it had been worth — nearly seventeen hundred platinum, not including what was effectively sitting in escrow.

They hadn’t done much with all that wealth — not yet, at least. Kenva had suggested they use a chunk of the pot to build up their collection of utility artefacts before they left the city. Things that could ease their cross-country experience — namely, a bigger and better tent. Artefact tents could get expensive. To little of Kaius’s surprise, they were in high demand amongst his fellow delvers.

Regardless, as nice as the week had been, he was ready to move things along. Thankfully, their first meeting with Rieker and Ro had been scheduled for today — they were just waiting for a time.

Kaius felt the dull thud of someone kicking him in the shin. He looked up to see Kenva nodding at something behind him.

He turned. Hensch was approaching, smiling, as he brandished an envelope in one hand, his other occupied with the platter of tea that they had asked for.

The mail drop had only been 10 minutes ago, so Hensch must have sorted through it immediately.

“A missive,” he said, sliding the letter to Kaius. “I wrote it down, but the runner said that you are wanted at the Guild at midday.”

“Thanks, Hensch. And the tea smells great,” he replied. It really did — crisp, green, and slightly floral. The innkeep smiled as he waved them off, continuing his rounds to drop off more letters to the various teams that were clustered in the private nooks of the Dusty Stables’ dining area.

Kaius tapped the letter, half excited, half nervous. He’d known it was coming. It had been over a week ago that they’d settled on meeting with Rieker and Ro today. It would be an important discussion: how their knowledge of honours, aspects, and potentially even some legacy skills would be disseminated as far as physically possible. Likely, it would involve roping in someone with more pull than the guildmaster of a single city.

“Nervous?” Ianmus asked. “From the sounds of it, we might be meeting some bigwigs, or at least talking to them, through a communication artefact.”

“So-so,” Kaius said, tilting his head.

It definitely felt odd to be so open with knowledge, when everything he had ever learned from a young age — hells, everything everyone learned from a young age — said that advantages were to be hoarded and leveraged, not spread. He knew better, though.

Who else could say they had met more than one god? And who else knew with a certainty that legacy skills were a test of the System to see who could be trusted to share?

He liked to think that his father would agree if he were in similar circumstances.

It wasn’t just mindless idealism. The world needed an advantage — at least a small level of egalitarian meritocracy — so that every powerhouse who might otherwise die in a ditch with a status full of common skills might rise up and help them pass through the turbulent times ahead.

“I just wish it was a little earlier,” Kenva said. “Now we have to wait hours before getting it over and done with.”

That was a sentiment that Kaius could agree with.

“Let’s just finish our breakfast and go get ready. It’ll be fine.”

At least he hoped it would.

…

Heavy booms rung through the hall as Kaius knocked on an iron-barred door.

They were in the underground sections of the Guild Hall, though not a level that they had visited previously. According to the Guild attendant who had given them the directions here, it doubled as an office and communication chamber, containing an artefact that facilitated communication between Guild Halls.

That made Kaius a little nervous. Of course, he understood that being Silver would have implications, and that the scale of what was being proposed went far beyond the authority of even someone like Rieker. Still, he hoped that they wouldn’t be thrown into the deep end straight away, and Rieker and Ro would at least brief them on what was planned.

“Come in,” Rieker said.

Kaius pushed the door open, reinforced hinges creaking as the heavy slab moved. Filing into the room with his team at his back, he was treated to an awe-inspiring sight of runework.

A moderately sized oval space, the walls of the room were made of a thick stone masonry that looked every bit as reinforced as the training halls even deeper in the Guild’s compound. Half of the room was built out like an office or conference hall, with three desks and a collection of chairs facing the opposite side. It was that half of the room that held Kaius enraptured. It was raised almost like a stage and made out of a single, continuously smooth set of stone that he didn’t recognise. It was perfectly flat and level, clearly formed by some sort of magic. On it, every finger’s breadth of space had been covered in some of the most dense runework Kaius had ever seen. It was a script he didn’t recognise, of looping whorls and tightly bound runic characters spilling out in a great mandala. When they’d said there would be a communication artefact, he hadn’t anticipated this.

“Quite the sight, isn’t it? Few get to see a transmission room in the flesh,” Ro said.

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She and Rieker were seated at one of the tables, smiling at them.

“What is it?” Ianmus asked, staring at the magical creation with interest.

“It’s how the Guild stays connected over the continent. It allows Guildmasters and senior officials to communicate and meet as if they were in person, projecting an image of a linked room just like this one. I use it to make my regular reports a few times a year, but otherwise it is rare that something interesting enough happens in Deadacre for me to reach out.”

The added context made Kaius stare at the formation with renewed interest. In many ways, its size was understandable. No doubt, a significant chunk of its volume had been spent on security, to make sure that whatever image was being transmitted couldn’t be tampered with or intercepted. That said, casting an illusion in real time across such vast distances was incredibly impressive. The cost to have these made in each Guild Hall must have been unimaginable.

“Come, sit, sit. Let us discuss our plans for the day,” Rieker said, tapping the chairs.

“No Ark or Bronwyn?” Porkchop asked, curiously, as they filtered over.

“Not today,” Ro said with a shake of her head. “Bronwyn has his own duties. It would be inappropriate for Ark to be here, considering he is not a member of the Guild. We’ll be discussing with them the beasts — our plans to deal with the beasts — and the imperial ruins tomorrow. Just come to the front office at the same time as you did today.”

Beside her, Rieker nodded. “Indeed. Today is about aspects, honours, skills, and what we do about them.”

Kenva tilted her head. “From what Kaius has told me, I was under the impression that the Guild already had a program to share information about aspects. Could it not just be expanded upon?”

“It will be, but that is frankly trifling compared to what we will share. While the aspect program is spread wide, it has mostly involved small numbers of promising recruits and elites. What we plan today will have far broader implications. The kind that go beyond my authority as a simple Guildmaster.”

So he’d been right. They would be meeting with some Guild higher-ups today. Kaius nodded to Rieker.

“If I could, I would simply keep your involvement to the minimum necessary to protect your privacy. But as Silvers, the Grand Masters will want to know of you anyway. And with this sort of information, they’re going to have many, many questions.”

“These Grandmasters, they run the Guild?” Porkchop asked.

“Part of it,” Ro replied. “They are the meat of the central body of the guild, spread throughout Vasstivar. Of course, there is the leading council above them, and as with most high-tiered affairs, there is an outsized presence in Wight’s End. Even we do not have so much sway as to meet with the council directly. Though, no doubt, after we share with their representatives, Rieker and I will have many a meeting to sit through.”

Next to her, Rieker grunted, as he gave them a stiff nod. “You should know that if we do this, it will be unavoidable. You will instantly become political entities. Even though you will have the backing of the Guild as a certainty, some knowledge of your involvement in this will spread, and there will be many interested parties that will be dissatisfied with your significant shake-up of the status quo.”

Kaius could only shrug. He was well aware of that. In the end, being ready for a little attention was the main reason they had waited until Silver in the first place.

“Who will we be meeting?” he asked.

“Grandmaster Olmos. He’s friendly with Ro and I,” Rieker said. “And well connected enough that he will be able to help the two of us navigate this with ease. He will be able to manage dissemination of this throughout all Guild Halls.

“As I said, he only knows your story in brief. We have some interesting information to share. He knows what you have shared about aspects, as well as the existence of honours, that you are potentially interested in having the Guild spread some useful skills — but little beyond generalities. And we have told him nothing regarding your role in the integration, so he will likely have questions.”

Kaius suppressed his small pang of disappointment that fell on his chest. The Guild had some truly legendary members in its upper echelons. Some that even he had heard of, as raised in isolation as he had been: Ironhammer Kaldan, Sunfire, The Judgement of the Wise — and many more that no doubt preferred to avoid fame. When Rieker had mentioned that they would be meeting with a member of Guild leadership, there had been a faint, almost childlike hope that it would be one of them. But this Olmos was unknown to him. Regardless, Rieker and Ro considered him a friend and ally. So he would too.

“Will they be Platinum?” Kaius asked. From his conversations with Rieker and Ro, and a variety of other sources, he knew it was likely — almost certain — that the Guild had third tiers. Somebody with the eponym Grandmaster, involved in Guild leadership, sounded exactly like the kind of person who could have strived that far.

Rieker chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he kicked his feet up on the desk in front of him. The heel of each of his boots landed with a heavy thunk.

“In Olmos’s case, no. But the man is still a high Gold. It is good to keep in mind that while all Grandmasters are powerful, not all powerful are Grandmasters. While many high-tiered individuals take on administrative functions as a form of retirement, there are many more who do not, and plenty still who remain active, plumbing the Depths and exploring the most dangerous of forgotten wilds in their quest to grow higher.”

Kaius nodded. That made sense to him. After all, even if Bronwyn had some official function with the Guild as an operational lead, Kaius and his team had reached the same level of strength and had no such responsibilities. Still, Rieker had confirmed that at least some of the Guild’s grandmasters were Platinums. Considering that he’d learned that there were people above even them, the Guild must have deep roots indeed. Hells, those involved in the Guild’s branches and high-mana zones might stretch beyond Mythril.

Beside him, Porkchop let out a deep hum. “Before we contact grandmaster Olmos, is there anything we should know? Things we should keep quiet, or expect?”

Rieker scratched his chin. “He’s an affable enough fellow, though he can be rather intense. Expect a lot of questions. As for what to keep to yourself, perhaps it would be best to pin a fair bit of your knowledge on your experiences in the Crucible. Your encounters with this Xenanra will provide a very convenient smokescreen for the knowledge you have brought us from the progression of integrations. While anyone with sense would not blame you for trying to escape the Depths when you were younger, your involvement is something of a political viable.”

Kaius grinned. That was an understatement. And Rieker was right. Xenanra would give a convenient source for much of their knowledge. Lords knew he didn’t want to tell a politician that he was the source of all the upheaval that had gone on in the last year.

Kaius looked to his team, seeing if there was anything else. He only got nods in return.

“Well then, let’s get to it.”

Rieker and Ro nodded, while Ro got to her feet and crossed the room to a dense section of runework set into the wall. She laid her hand flat on its surface, a frown of concentration spreading across her face as Kaius saw her mana flow into the working.

Moments later, the raised platform that took up half the room across from them flickered and vanished, replaced instead by a crystal-clear, lifelike illusion of a grey-haired man in a black coat sitting behind a mahogany desk.

The projection was seamless, flawless. Only with Truesight could Kaius even tell that it was a fake, his skill rendering the projection halfway insubstantial, as though with a little focus he’d be able to see the plain stone walls through the image.

Half a heartbeat later and the man behind the desk — Grandmaster Olmos, Kaius presumed — rose to his feet, a beaming smile on his face as he spread his arms wide.

“Rieker, good to see you. What’s it been, a year and a half?”

Rieker grinned toothily. “Almost. Thank you for taking this meeting — I appreciate that the time of a Grandmaster is a precious thing.”

“Nonsense, my boy,” the Grandmaster replied. “I know you would never waste it.”

Grandmaster Olmos turned, looking straight at Kaius and his team. The man’s eyes were a flinty dark grey and pierced Kaius right through his soul. While there was no malice in them, there was an evaluating look, as if he was being sized up. “So this is that team you sent me a message about.”