Dungeon Life-Chapter Four-Hundred One

Miller 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

The ashen elf looks in the mirror, noticing just how little he had to add to make himself look appropriately upset. He knows the Young Master would hardly be safer than in Thedeim’s Sanctum, but he still worries. Said worry is tempered with pride in him working so hard, but that doesn’t remove his concerns.

At least he had Rose to ensure he’d be safe through the whole ordeal. Now he gets to lay low and eat what meals Miller can sneak to him, not to mention whatever the priests and dwellers will make him. He chuckles into the mirror at the idea of Young Master Rezlar returning with a few extra pounds on him, thanks to being spoiled by the others.

He tucks that feeling away to appreciate more later. For now, he has a part to play, and the audience appears to have arrived. One of the gate guards cautiously approaches him, deliberately not trying to be quiet, so as not to startle the grieving butler.

“Uh… sir? The Earl is here. I know you said no visitors, but… I can’t just leave an Earl waiting at the gate, right?”

Miller gives a drawn out sigh and slowly shakes his head. “No, we can’t. Where is he?”

“Uh, he’s in the dining hall. The chef made a quick appetizer to keep him busy, but I don’t know how long that’ll last.”

The butler rises and suppresses a groan, looking like all of his years have caught up to him all at once, with the help of a few sleepless nights, and does his best to straighten himself. “I will be there shortly. If the servers haven’t already, have them serve the sunwine. The Earl enjoys the vintage.”

The guard nods and hurriedly makes his exit, giving Miller time to freshen himself up. It’s difficult to get the little details just wrong enough that the Earl would notice, while still maintaining his professional reputation. A small wrinkle here, an unruly strand or two of hair, along with a subtle puffiness around the eyes… perfect. The absolute portrait of a dedicated butler trying to hold himself together.

He smirks into the mirror for a moment before setting his face in a professional disinterest, the corners of his mouth just a hair too tight, and makes his way to the stage. Or rather, the dining hall.

There, he finds the Earl with his Head Maid, and he has to fight to keep the grin off his face at seeing her. She’s skilled, no doubt, but she was a specialist before she donned the apron. She doesn’t have the breadth of experience to really make her Head Maid material, no matter how good she is with knives.

He gives the two a low bow, allowing just the barest hint of a warble into his voice as he speaks. “Ah, Earl if’Gofnar. A pleasure to see you.”

The Earl smirks around his glass of wine. “No need to lie for my sake, Miller. Neither of us is pleased right now, so why pretend? Especially when we have a mutual target to direct our ire onto.”

Pretending to pretend to not know what someone is talking about is a very delicate act, but one Miller has extensive experience with. A slight tilt of the head, a little twitch of the eye, a subtle shift in posture, and someone like the Earl will start connecting all sorts of false information. “What do you mean?”

“Felicia?” the Earl answers, and his maid nods, confirming that the privacy enchantment is active, and letting him continue. “You got sloppy with the dungeon, or perhaps with the friends. How long have you been guiding that dungeon, Miller? And what for?”

He freezes for an instant, playing up being discovered, then playing up deciding what to share. A slow exhale and a downcast of the gaze shows an elf with little reason to keep up the charade. “A while now, and to help the Young Master grow.”

The Earl motions for him to continue as he holds his goblet out for the Head Maid to refill with the sunwine.

“He’s always struggled with… confidence in himself, and with connecting with those of his rank. But he did always enjoy stories about a young noble sneaking out to make friends with the commoners. It wasn’t difficult to convince him to live out such a story, at least not after I got the ear of the dungeon.”

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“How did you manage that, by the way? It’s a far grander thing than it should be, considering how young it is.”

“It was cloistered, but not fully. I found it years ago, and started nurturing it, dropping little clues for it, subtly shaping it right under the nose of the Dungeoneers. If I wanted the Young Master to flourish, he would need a wide variety of situations in which to grow, and a gradual increase in challenge, as well. And it was working. He was growing more confident, improving his fencing, learning to take charge of the small party and lead them to victory. But…” He trails off, leaving a silence for the Earl to fill, and he is all too eager to do so.

“But then they made a new friend. A thief.”

Miller feigns a wince and slowly nods. “Indeed. I urged him to reconsider, but his other friends were confident in the thief, too, so he thought it would be fine. Then he started pushing to test the higher branches…”

“And was rewarded for that trust with a plummet to his demise,” finishes the Earl, doing his own bit of acting to look saddened by the occurrence. “I’m surprised you weren’t there to catch him, Miller.”

He lets his shoulders slump at the accusation. “He forbade me. If I was there to protect him, the others would notice the sudden drop in experience. He was certain it would be fine, so… so I trusted his judgement.”

The Earl sighs and shakes his head. “An easy mistake to make, after all his gains,” he encourages. “But now he’s gone. And with him gone, I can’t leave the dungeon in your grasp.”

Miller lets his gaze harden, deliberately misreading the Earl's intention before the noble continues. “I’m going to have it declared murderous, but for that to happen, the official story needs to be that the dungeon kidnapped him for whatever reason, and fumbled it. It can’t stay under your control, so it needs to die.”

“The thieves killed him,” points out Miller, slipping a hint of rage and hatred into his voice, and the Earl nods.

“They did, and for that they will pay. But I will need time to ensure I have the evidence to prove it. Until then… will you back me on the dungeon having kidnapped my son? If not, I won’t be able to focus on the thieves like I will need to.”

Miller lets a scowl flash across his face before returning to professional indifference. “If I wish to see justice for the Young Master, it appears I have little choice. But what of the party? They were with him when it happened.”

The Earl shrugs. “Convince them to back my story, or convince them to remain silent.” He grins. “I’m sure someone like you can think of a way to ensure they won’t be a problem, one way or another.”

Keeping the disgust off his face is difficult, but not impossible. “And the thief, Tupul?”

The noble nods at his maid. “I have people working on that. There are signs he’s a changeling, not simply an elf, and that will complicate matters. But I know we’ll get him eventually.” He finishes his drink and stands, walking for the exit before pausing at the door and looking over his shoulder at Miller.

“Oh, and Miller?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I really did send him here for his own good. You know that, don’t you? Among the nobles, they would have eaten him alive. But a quiet little backwater to govern would have given him the chance to fall out of their notice. I had hoped he’d improve here, but I didn’t expect it. It was a shock when I arrived and he didn’t immediately foist the governance onto me. He really had grown, which makes this all the more tragic. I’ll make sure those responsible pay for what they did.”

With that said, the Earl makes his exit. Miller waits for him to leave the estate fully before he allows his lip to curl into a sneer at the sheer audacity of the elf. The subtle jabs and insinuations to try to get him to blame himself, the attempt to look like he realized only too late what he missed out with Lord Rezlar, and the attempt to garner loyalty with the promise of justice.

Still, it was worth it for the information of his plan. He will have no trouble convincing Freddie and Rhonda to pretend to lie about what happened. The Earl would probably expect them to vanish, but the simplest way to sell it would be to make it look like he bribed them. It’d sell better to the Earl if they acted like he threatened them, but he’s too good at reading people to miss the evidence they still trust him. Better to call it a bribe and let them continue to act happy around him.

He focuses again on the idea of the Young Master coming back heavier as he makes his way to the study, his mood improving significantly. It doesn’t take him long to pen a missive detailing what he’s learned, and it’s simplicity itself for him to nestle it into the flowers just outside the window. Thedeim should have some of his plants in there. Though birds are much more traditional for messages, they’re not the most subtle. The living vine will be slower, but much more secure.

He amuses himself with creating a training regimen for Lord Rezlar once he returns, to help burn off what he’s gained, as well as a small speech to give him about how much he’ll be overworking the seamstresses with his newfound girth. The thoughts warm him even more than the thought of the Earl getting what he deserves.