Ultimate Level 1-Chapter 392: A Rare Offer

Fowl’s hands pressed against his formal jacket for a third time.

“You going to be okay?” Max asked as he stood beside his friend. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re a tower climber and a successful one too.”

His friend looked up at him and shook his head.

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“We’re meeting my parents and the king! The bloody king!”

Nodding, he looked at his own clothes, glad to have had them cleaned and stored afterward. He noticed each of the women was also making a few last adjustments to the dresses they were wearing.

None had been happy that morning when an early message came to the Faction house saying that the king would be taking part in this reunion. The chaos that had ensued as both dwarves tried to comprehend such an honor while also wondering what they were going to wear had surprised even Max.

“Yes, but that’s because he knows how strong you are. Again, I’m here, and you have nothing to fear. This should prove your point to your parents even more.”

A small grunt came as his friend turned and looked at himself again in the mirror in the room they were waiting in.

“Maybe… still… you don’t know my mom… She can be…”

“A word I’m not allowed to use,” Batrire said as she came up from behind. “You look amazing, my love. Now stop fidgeting, or you’ll start to sweat and smell like the backside of an ogre. None of us wants that smell to reach the king.”

Turning, Fowl smiled, and Max watched as the dwarf’s eyes sparkled, taking in the bright yellow dress that Batrire was wearing.

“You look radiant, my love. Like a sunflower, reaching up to the sun, showing its beauty to anyone who can glimpse even a part of it.”

Both of their healer’s cheeks went red, and Max felt his eyebrows raising on their own.

When did he become a poet?

You did notice him reading a book the other night at dinner. Perhaps he did put a few points into intelligence after all.

Chuckling to himself, Max glanced at Tanila, who was wearing her green dress. The same one she had worn before still looked perfect on her.

Next to her, Cordellia was shifting slightly in the blue dress she had on, tugging at the sides as she used one of the many mirrors that lined the walls of the small waiting area.

Thick padded chairs made from a combination of stone and metal seemed more like works of art than a place to put one’s backside. They were set in perfect locations for private conversations. Mirrors with gold and other fine metals had prime wall space to allow one to ensure everything about them was ready for what would come next.

Four suits of armor, all larger than Max had imagined they might be, centered the room as their empty helms watched over all of them.

Even the carpet told a story, a battle of dwarves fighting against a horde of goblins riding wargs.

“You look amazing as well,” Max said as he moved to where Tanila was.

“That’s not going to cut it,” she replied, winking at him before looking back at herself in the mirror. “I’m guessing he pulled that out of the book he had the other day?”

“I was thinking the same thing. Now tell me, you don’t seem nervous on the outside, but I can tell there is a little bit of reservation still. What are you afraid of?”

She took a breath in slowly and let it out at the same pace.

“Dwarves rarely get to meet their king. Most elves would never dream of meeting… the king. Did you ever expect to meet your queens?”

Shaking his head, he saw her nod once.

“For this to happen, with two of the royal lines, one must wonder what is going to come next. You and I both have our fears about them being forced from our party. This is a real and present threat. A dwarf sees the king as a… father… but a loving one. One whose word and command are absolute. King Dagon Stormfall has sat on this throne for over two hundred years. His reign has been one of mostly peace and prosperity. Even my… king would not anger him.”

“Because he’s that strong?”

She nodded and motioned to the door they had come in.

“No guards, no one to watch us. Why do you think they would do that with five people they know are all said to be above the 50th floor in the tower?”

Max fidgeted with his red armband for a moment and frowned.

“So most would believe he could defeat all of us.”

A small chuckle came as she shook her head.

“Yes… most . Even though I’m certain his guard will be there, do not think for a moment that he could not defend himself and most likely win against us all.”

“We’re not planning on doing anything stupid? Are we?” Cordellia asked as she came closer to where they were standing.

“No… I’m not planning on doing anything stupid. Fowl might, though.”

“Bah, don’t you worry about me,” their warrior replied, turning away from the mirror he had hogged since arriving in the room. “I’ll be better behaved than any of ya.”

For what seemed like forever but was only another ten minutes, they made small talk, occasionally adjusting each other’s outfits before the wood door that was inlaid with gold carving opened up.

“The king is ready for you.”

Fowl nodded and held out his arm, letting Batrire take it, and they walked ahead of the rest of them, Max and Tanila following, with Cordellia at the end.

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The dwarven butler gave a slight bow, his brown hair held in place with a paste that didn’t let a single strand move astray. Even his beard was waxed, almost to the point of being rigid like a stick.

Once all five were in the hallway, another butler was waiting, their black and white attire marked with a red and gold embroidered hammer and crown on the back. Just a little farther down the hallway were a pair of guards, each with a set of plate armor Max had recalled from the day they tried to get permission to see Fowl’s parents.

No aura came from the duo, yet as they led the way toward the throne room, their gait seemed to announce how dangerous they could be.

So many here are strong. Even those butlers… I would venture that each of them has been in the tower.

Why would they have butlers in the tower? What skill could they provide?

Consider what I’m going to say as just what I would do. You live for hundreds and potentially a thousand years if you are strong enough as the dwarven king. Even you should live to be well over a hundred or possibly two hundred years without beating the tower.

If you’re going to rule, you’ll want people who are loyal and strong and with you for a long period of time. How much effort is it then to put together teams which will help those who serve you get stronger?

But I don’t believe the queens did that.

They will live longer if someone does not kill them, but still two hundred years of life would be a long time for them. Yet for this king, that is nothing. So what if it takes a decade or two? Who cares about the gold or the cost? Why not spend time and money to outfit those in the same gear as they progress?

The sound of boots, heels, and armor quietly echoed off the worked stone hallway as they made their way along it. Paintings and tapestries lined the hall, and the few doors that were set back from within it were all closed. Up ahead was a larger pair of double doors, easily twelve feet tall and waiting to be opened by another pair of guards in the same armor as their escort.

It does make sense. Then, if that is the case, this entire castle is an army at his fingertips.

Which is why the king must not fear much.

Upon reaching the door, the butler and their escort stopped.

The dwarf turned, smoothed his vest once, and then nodded at Fowl and Batrire.

“You know the rules. Stay behind me, do not pass me, and wait for him to speak.”

Pausing, the man leaned slightly to ensure Max’s and his eyes met.

“No weapon, unless the king asks for you to display it, must ever be drawn. To do so would result in your death.”

The briefest nod was given, and their escort faced the door and motioned to the guards who stood beside it.

Tell me again why I was singled out for that.

You’re the one who has a bloody reputation. No doubt your arena exploits might make a few uncomfortable.

As the doors swung open, a slight buzz of conversation went silent, and Max got an eyeful over his dwarven friends’ heads of what lay beyond.

Inside was a smaller hall than he had expected after the stories Fowl and Batrire had told.

Still it was over fifty yards long and a good twenty yards wide as his Sonar was just out of the reach of where the king sat on his stone throne.

It was made of a black stone and shone brighter than a mirror might if it weren’t so dark.

Lined up along both sides of the room were guards, each stationed at one of the five pillars that ran to the ceiling.

Everywhere was stone, carved in intricate ways, and even the pillars had etchings that Max could feel were almost breathing from how well they had been crafted.

A single carpet led to a dozen yards from the three steps and the throne Dagon Stormfall sat on.

The tiniest throat clearing signaled the movement of their butler, and all five of them walked forward, their steps now silenced by the material underneath.

Each guard gave off a slight aura of power, and next to the king at the base of the steps were two more dwarves, one the woman he recognized from the day before, her black hair tied back in braids, and another dwarven woman with blond hair and a scar that took a bit of her beard out on the left.

Almost twenty yards ahead on the left were three dwarves standing with a similar butler.

Max immediately saw the resemblance Fowl bore, having his father’s nose and his mother’s thick beard.

Their eyes were narrowed as they watched them approach.

Yet in all this, Max’s Sonar went wild the moment he felt Dagon Stormfall enter it.

No aura came.

No presence at all was there for a moment, and then it would come, vanishing again a second later.

He could sense the dwarf and knew that he was on the throne, yet his eyes and skill seemed at odds, wanting to admit the king’s presence and deny it at the same time.

That… is an interesting skill.

What is it? I mean… how?

Some sort of anti-detection ability. Something almost as strong as your Sonar. The fact that you can detect him, even as it is, means the two of you are equally matched in that skill.

Does he know my skill is trying to detect him?

Bob was silent as they continued along the carpet.

The slightest grin appeared through the white hair of the beard that seemed to flow from the king’s chiseled face. His size was hidden as he sat, leaning forward slightly, one arm on the stone throne.

Both of his black eyes were locked on Fowl and Batrire, almost not paying any attention at all to the rest of them.

It does not appear so.

Their butler stopped and gave a deep bow, one that each of them mimicked.

Just three yards away stood Fowl’s parents and his youngest brother, eyes fixed on the one who had requested to see them.

“My king. May I present to you the tower climbers and adventurers you have requested come today. Fowl Hammerfall, warrior and third son of Orstein and Greeta Hammerfall. Batrire Lightbrew, their healer and wife-to-be of Fowl Hammerfall.”

Max sensed and saw the slightest reaction from both of their warriors parents, each somehow able to stop from doing more than widening their eyes and clenching their jaws. Grondir, however, failed that task, his mouth hanging open at the announcement.

“Their mage, Tanila; ranger, Cordellia; and the human warrior, Max Hoste.”

After speaking, the dwarf moved to stand next to the other butler, and Max watched as Dagon Stormfall scooted forward slightly on his throne.

“Welcome, brother and sister. And welcome to you other three. I have long been waiting to meet the pair who bring honor to Ockrim.”

The king’s smile seemed to grow after he finished speaking and stood, his size now on full display for everyone to see.

He’s as tall as Cordellia…

Actually, I think he’s just a little bit taller.

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