Chapter 29 - Puzzling

“Oh great, another empty room,” Lillia said as the recessed door swung open to reveal unending darkness and flagstone. Before walking through the door, Lillia poked her head through, craning her neck to look up at the ceiling. She didn’t see anything, but she stabbed the bardiche straight up into the air above the door. Nothing.
Lillia swung the blade to either side at both head height and waist height. On the final swing, she went too far and metal smashed against stone. The impact rattled up the shaft and Lillia almost dropped the Bramble Slasher.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot.” Lillia pulled the weapon in, checking the blade to see whether there was any damage. Havoc would have killed her if he’d seen that happen but as long as there was no damage, there was no way he could ever know.
It was also important that her weapon be in working condition but that wasn’t top of mind.
Lillia checked her inventory one last time before stepping the full way into the room.
She had pulled out most things and tried them on in her effort to be Havoc-like before getting distracted by the prospect of something new from Thorne. In Lillia’s defense she had been correct. Lillia had new equipment from her dealings with Thorne, which meant checking had been the right call.
And that she definitely shouldn’t have checked her inventory again before opening the door. Right?
This was why Lillia needed Havoc. Her pretending to be Havoc was only half as good, if that.
Lillia pulled out one of the feathers from the Ambusher. They had embarrassed her once but that didn’t mean she could never wear them as shoes. Lillia closed her eyes and crushed the Ambusher’s feather in her hand. Dust. Chitterpede boots breaking down. Blah blah.
Lillia stiffened as the feathers tickled her thigh. She was now in long, tall lace-up tan boots. The inside felt like leather but on the outside it was all carefully sculpted ambusher feathers, even up past the top of the inner lining. Lillia bent her knee inward to look at the lacing on the side of the boot. Thank goodness they came pre-laced. She didn’t have any of her aides here to do them up for her.
Lillia checked both sides of the boots then the soles. They had a small heel similar to the riding boots. It didn’t seem like the dungeon was going to let her get away with a flat any time soon.
[Plainsrunner OTKs] [Equipment - Boots] [Twice per day, kick in the air for an extra ‘Flap’ of lift.] [The line between a successful hunt and an empty stomach is often measured by the wingbeats of the hunter.]
Lillia read it and then read it again. ,
“That seems unsafe.”
It felt foolish to leave a skill like that untested, but on the other, it didn’t seem like something she could afford to waste. At least not until she was closer to her hearth.
They at least seemed more useful than the chitterpede boots on a flat surface where she didn’t want to make too much noise.
Satisfied with her extremely feathery look, Lillia crept deeper into the room. Each step, she swung the bardiche around as she turned, pointing it towards each and every shadow out in the darkness. Four steps in the door closed behind her. Slowly. Politely.
Light erupted into the room. But unlike most of the dungeon’s spaces, it wasn’t ambient light. The light was coming from a set of crystal chandeliers hung on a ceiling thirty-odd feet above. Each of the chandeliers was an intricate wrought-iron creation, laden with candles and dripping with melted wax. Dozens of glittering crystals hung from each of the chandeliers, scattering the already flickering firelight around the room.
Further into the room, which was smaller than Lillia thought, there was a pair of wooden tables. They were both attached to the floor like the entire room had been carved from a single chunk of stone as opposed to being built piece by piece. Lillia’s heart fluttered. The food was missing but each of the tables had been set for an intricate feast.
Finally on the far wall there was a recess similar to the one that had housed the door leading to this room, but there was no door to speak of at the moment.
Lillia relaxed her grip on the bardiche enough that she could feel how clammy her palms had gotten. She allowed the tension to release from her spine and shoulders. Knowing the dungeon, Lillia wasn’t out of the woods yet but at least she was in a familiar setting. She’d fought at dinner before — verbal sparring matches, mind you — but words could be fights.
Having done this during the Spellmite Architect’s challenge, Lillia followed her playbook for success in rooms that didn’t explain themselves. The princess rounded the room, following the wall with her right hand and keeping the Bramble Slasher trained on the center.
Eventually, Lillia was back at the door. Nothing had happened. The princess sighed. The whole idea of being thorough was that something happened and rewarded the thoroughness. So far nothing had been waiting to jump her at the door and nothing had happened from circling the room. Lillia could have just walked to the center of the room and touched everything on the table and she would have been fine.
She would have been better than fine. She would have been seated somewhere nice instead of pressed against a stupid rock wall in a stupid dark corner, as if she were avoiding everyone at a dinner party.
Lillia marched to the center of the room, letting the Bramble Slasher fall to her side as she did. As she approached, the tables set themselves. Plates, forks, knives, wine goblets, steins, serving dishes, napkins and spoons swapped from stone to metal and wood. Lillia crossed the last steps faster, hoping that food would appear. It didn’t.
Each of the placements was intricately set. The napkins were carefully folded. The goblets were freshly polished. Lillia walked along the table, taking in the atmosphere she missed from her life back on the surface. They had dessert spoons. Was there going to be a cake if Lillia waited long enough? She missed cake.
Lillia missed a lot of things. A lot of things that should have made cake seem trivial. But at least, in that moment, Lillia missed cake.
While daydreaming, Lillia paused her circle around the table at the far end, where a respected diplomat may have sat. Something was off. Lillia swapped the knife and the fork. They were in the wrong place. What a faux pas.
Once Lillia had fixed the cutlery she heard a resounding bang behind the far wall. The princess jumped, pulling out her bardiche and pointing it towards the door. Wait—there was a door there now.
Where there had simply been a recess, there was now a wooden door. To the untrained eye, it may have seemed to match the first, but the hinges and handle were polished, and someone had taken significantly better care of the door itself.
“Why here? Why now?”
Lillia picked up the knife and fork, swapping them back. Another bang. The door was gone.
“Wait.”
Fork and knife fixed. The door was back.
Lillia looked from the table to the door, blinked twice, and then leaned on the bardiche for support as she ran her fingers through her hair.
“Was that one of those puzzles?”
Lillia had heard about them from the adventurers that occasionally came to the castle. Dungeons could be filled with devious traps that needed intricate and complicated solutions involving niche knowledge, or the adventurers would never escape.
There was no way. There had to be another trick to this.
“But that was so obvious. Who would put the knife on the inside of the place setting? Barbarians?”
Lillia shook her head. There must have been a layer to the puzzle she wasn’t seeing. Whatever it was, the door was there and that gave her a path forward, a potential room to find the hearth in.
Before she left Lillia looked back at the table and sighed. She couldn’t stay for dinner. Dinner might not even exist. But she thought that if it did exist, it would have been delicious. Cakes. Breads. Fruit if she were lucky. Lillia tore her gaze from the table setting before it made her too hungry. She might have woken up with a full stomach several hours ago, but she hadn’t eaten in days.
Lillia opened the door to the next room. It was smooth on its hinges, recently oiled and cut so the bottom didn’t catch on any of the uneven flagstone floor tiles. The princess sighed contentedly as she pushed into the next room. Finally some luxury.
The next room was even more wondrous. The stone floor gave way to a deep plush rug that ran down the centre of a very long hallway. The glittering chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, all of the same pattern and with the same grandeur as the dining hall. On the walls, there were towering oil paintings of — well, Lillia didn’t recognize any of the faces, but they looked like sovereigns of a past age. She might not have known the people, but the princess knew what a coronation portrait looked like from her years living in the castle.
Finally, and most importantly, on either side of the long red carpet there were metal suits of armor, set on their stands to act like silent guardians to anyone walking down the hallway.
The room smelled dirty in a way different from the rest of the dungeon. The place didn’t stink of dust, but of something alive — mites and mold. It stank the way the castle stank in dark corners. To Lillia, it brought back memories of the old armory. After her father had his new wing built, nobody went there except to collect relics for some seasonal display around the castle.
Lillia had hated it when she was a child. Over the past five years it had been a good place to hide away for a while. The room didn’t smell nice, but the room was comforting to Lillia as she stepped into it.
The first two portraits on the wall were both, Lillia knew from her lessons, warriors retaking the throne. Putting a sword front and centre of their coronation portrait spoke to a time of war in the kingdom. Neither of the men in the paintings were impressive in stature, but they had been painted with their chests out and gauntlets on the right arm.
Further into the room, the portraits sketched out different times in the kingdom. A time of peace, doves and fruit. A time of famine, sparse wealth meant to portray a frugal lord. A time of great exploration, marked by the portraits transitioning from the indoors of a throne room to the open docks before massive ships.
The last were bleak. Each of the last portraits portrayed a young child on the throne. Around each, a group of advisors leered from behind the throne, almost literally grasping at the stone monument to power that the child sat on. These children were oblivious, but it was clear what was coming.
That was how dynasties ended.
Lillia stared at the children’s portraits for longer than she needed to. She was looking for something familiar. For a look that she recognized from the mirror. For an expression she could remember on her lips.
Her throne had been taken. Hadn’t it?
Lillia continued to watch the children’s expressions, as if her gaze could alter the painting. Where was the sadness? Where was the frustration? Where was the anger?
Were they too young? Or had they, like Lillia, just run out of anger and resentment to throw out into the void?
Lillia turned away from the last portraits. There was no door at the end of the hallway, which meant she was staring down a puzzle she hadn’t seen.
Once she wasn’t focused on her father’s lessons, the answer was once again too clear. So clear she had overlooked it in the search for something deeper. Under the portraits there were family crests.
While the kingdoms had moved in tandem, at one point the jewels within the scepters of each lord had swapped in the third portraits. While the crowns represented the kingdom, the jewel selection within the other accessories was the marker of family. The lords were painted into the wrong kingdoms.
Lillia approached the placard at the bottom of the portrait. Freshly oiled, immaculately carved. If a craftsman had created this, rather than the dungeon itself, she would have asked around for their name.
It would have been lovely to see her parents’ crest carved like this.
Lillia removed the placard and swapped it with the other. They were both heavy in her hands, made of good, solid wood and backed with thick stone. Once they were in place, a familiar bang echoed from the end of the hallway.
The princess turned to admire her handiwork, but there wasn’t a door at the end of the hallway. Instead, clanging rang throughout the hallway as the suits of armor took different positions.
Lillia jumped at their initial movement, but once none of them ran at her or pulled out a sword, she let herself scan the room. How quaint! Three of the knights were asking her to dance.
Where did those adventurers get the idea of ‘weird and esoteric’ knowledge from? All of these puzzles were simple.”