The waitresses carefully placed firewood beneath the eternal cauldron. The bubbling stew spread the rich aroma of meats and vegetables throughout the restaurant. It was a local culinary tradition, dating back to the era when the wives of Stoicus's comrades were always ready to welcome their husbands with a hot meal, grateful they had returned alive from the Great Rift. Cora, aware of the custom, had insisted on coming to taste it. However, she was disappointed to learn that the current perpetual stew had only been simmering for a few weeks; the previous one, almost a century old, had been extinguished during the dark elf invasion.
"It's still refreshing to taste a dish that isn't made of clams and fish," Cora said. From a leather pouch tied to the waist of her chiton, she pulled out a small, transparent vial containing sea salt—a highly coveted spice she used to season her broth. She offered some to Hilda's bowl, but the inquisitor shook her head.
Hilda's single eye shifted from Cora to the bronze guard watching the girl's back, and finally to the street visible from their dining balcony. She had accepted the meal out of courtesy, but hadn't taken a single spoonful yet. Not until she knew exactly how much Cora understood about the cavemen and Jimbo.
After tasting the stew with a wooden spoon, the young slave praised its flavor. But upon meeting Hilda's stony face, clearly not in the mood for small talk, Cora wiped her lips with the corner of the tablecloth and proceeded to share her knowledge of the great miracle and the cavemen, emphasizing that these were merely theories.
"Crossbreeding," Cora said.
Hilda raised an eyebrow, not understanding.
"The reason for the secrecy is obvious. No one wants to remember the horrors of the Golden Republic."
Hilda took a deep breath and exhaled. A part of her relaxed at not hearing the words "Dungeon Core," but another part felt repulsed by the history Cora was referencing.
Chronologically speaking, the Golden Republic was the closest thing to a democracy the United Kingdoms had ever seen. It emerged during the pacification era initiated by Kazuto, the Mage King, over three hundred years ago. Because of Kazuto's slanted eyes and dark hair, the warring kingdoms labeled him as just another young migrant from the Far East. What none of the ancient kings foresaw was that he and his group of friends would turn the world's history upside down.
Taking advantage of the era's chaos, a merchant guild known as The Golden Heel attempted to found a democracy in the now-extinct kingdom of Milotias. But the most striking aspect of their movement wasn't their republican ideals (which, then as now, sounded like sheer madness and hearsay), nor their plan to dismantle feudalism and create the concept of a 'citizen.' The guild's true hallmark was their so-called golden golems.
They weren't actually golems, nor were they made of gold. But they were giants, wearing colossal iron armor as if it weighed no more than feathers, with full helms that completely obscured any expression. At first, they served as silent, unbribable, incorruptible bodyguards; later, they became the vanguard of the revolution against the Muriam monarchy that ruled Milotias.
At the time, no one linked the golden golems to the Flower Killer, a bizarre figure responsible for the disappearance of prostitutes. The Flower Killer was merely an invention of the merchants, a fabricated narrative to disguise the truth. The conspiracy unraveled when the republic fell thirteen years after its founding, bringing to light the true nature of the golden golems and the grim fate of the queen and the two Muriam princesses of Milotias.
"The republicans used ogres for the crossbreeding," Cora commented, speaking with the confidence of someone who had meticulously studied and memorized every detail, pausing only to savor her stew. "In the wild, a creature as massive and violent as an ogre would kill any human during intercourse. That's why the merchants invested immense time and money into training the ogres for the task, using the kidnapped prostitutes. According to the few reports that survived the destruction of The Golden Heel, the Queen of Milotias also gave birth to very healthy specimens."
During the republican revolution, the King of Milotias was assassinated, and the queen and her daughters vanished. When it was discovered they had been abducted by the republic's leaders, the scandal was so monumental that even the then-Mage Hero considered intervening—though by that time, the queen and her daughters were already dead.
But Cora didn't want to linger on history and politics; she was more interested in the fruits of the experiment.
"It's true they had setbacks. Three births were the absolute limit a human woman could endure before dying from the physical toll. But that doesn't change the fact that they succeeded... For the time they existed, the half-ogres were the perfect servant race. They had the strength of an ogre and the docility of a human, too stupid to conspire or lie. And they possessed the loyalty of hounds."
Half-ogres no longer existed, or at least no organization created them anymore. The Mage King had decreed such crossbreeding a crime against humanity.
Hilda frowned at the subtle accusation, fighting the urge to get up and leave. King Marc could never do something so horrific; even Arrax would have had his reservations.
"Please don't be angry with me, Dame Hilda. I'm not saying your men are half-ogres; they're far too small for that," Cora said, flashing a smile to lighten the mood. "I thought they might be half-orcs, but they lack the typical green skin of that breed. My point is, they are clearly the result of an experiment. What kind? I don't know. But you must have a wise man working in secret—a new great mage, capable of molding giant walls with his power."
Hilda's shoulders relaxed. Cora knew nothing about Jimbo.
"Is that all you wanted to discuss?" the knight asked. She didn't intend to leave any room for casual chatter. If she did, she might say too much—a fatal mistake in front of someone as perceptive as Cora.
"Actually, there is one other small matter," Cora said, fluttering her long eyelashes and clasping her hands over her heart.
Hilda relayed the conversation to King Marc, including Cora's theories and her final request. At first, King Marc turned green with fury at being compared to the Golden Republic, but after a minute, he calmed down and seriously considered the city-states' petition.
Jimbo had no problem with it when Hilda explained the situation to him, both safely inside the core room.
«So this Cora chick wants a miner caveman as a gift? Sure, I can spawn one and craft another bone scepter, no sweat. But I hope you explained that they only know how to mine or do basic stuff. Give them a complicated command and they just blank out or get pissed. They're total idiots.»
"Make sure it's sterile," Hilda said.
«Huh? What a weird request.»
"Just listen to me."
«Okay... Sterility... Let's see... Would that be considered a status effect? A passive skill?»
Hilda didn't answer the incomprehensible jargon. Nor did she explain the history of the Golden Republic to Jimbo. Perhaps in the future, the dungeon core's curiosity would lead him to uncover the lore, but for now, she preferred not to recount that dark and shameful episode of humanity.
The next day, the foreign diplomats departed the kingdom, taking with them a bone scepter and a caveman. The caveman, whom Cora named Liot, would spend his days in a zoo, entertaining the citizens and slaves of the grand masters' cities with his bizarre appearance and primitive manners.
...
Moonsong stormed out of the meeting, her fists and teeth clenched. The moment the double doors closed behind her, she spun toward the two men who had exited the council with her. The fury in her beautiful eyes, however, was reserved solely for Axiel. The undead knights guarding the corners of the gloomy hall remained as still as statues.
"If you were of my people, I would have had your smug face ripped off for confronting me and questioning my judgment."
Axiel returned her glare with an ice-cold expression and a relaxed posture, holding a small pink wooden chest under his arm. He felt a delicate hand on his shoulder and glanced sideways at the male elf, who wore a slight smirk beneath the hood that shadowed his eyes.
"She's just upset that The Master accepted your plan over hers, Sir Axiel. Let's be honest, Moonsong's idea was about as effective as bashing our heads against a brick wall."
"The human kingdom was on the verge of falling at my feet!" Moonsong exclaimed, pointing at the floor.
"And if I had wings and feathers, I'd be on the verge of flying up and building a nest on the roof of the Underdark," the hooded elf retorted with a shrug and a biting smile.
"I never gave you permission to speak to me, you pathetic, gelded creature." Moonsong raised her hand, aiming it at his face.
The hooded elf's smile vanished.
Axiel sighed and took a step forward.
"Lady Moonsong, it wasn't my intention to offend you. But you have to accept that invading the kingdom by force was a miscalculation. Even if they had known about the Dungeon Core and managed to take Marc's head, the Mage King surely would have appeared and put an end to the invasion."
Moonsong narrowed her eyes at the mention of the Mage King, equal parts cautious and skeptical.
"This so-called Mage King... everyone talks about him, yet he hasn't been seen in a century. I'm beginning to think he's a phantom leader, a bedtime story used to scare children and fools." With that, Moonsong turned her back, ready to leave, but tossed one last glance over her shoulder at Axiel. "What is undoubtedly real—a genuine threat—is that crawling creature they hide beneath the castle. Your plan better work, human, and you better destroy it. If you fail, I will ask the Master for the honor of hunting you down and claiming your head."
Moonsong walked away, her hips swaying sumptuously.
The hooded elf regained his smirk and looked at Axiel.
"I think she likes you. She might even keep you as a slave for a while before executing you."
"I have no interest in her affection or her preferences. My heart already belongs to another."
The hooded elf stuck his tongue out in disgust, acting almost like a petulant child.
"Belongs? What I like about humans is that they don't have masters! You disappoint me, Sir Axiel. As handsome as you are, you should be breaking hearts day and night. Females are malicious, ungrateful creatures; they deserve the pain."
"Breaking hearts day and night sounds exhausting, Sir Zerom."
Zerom laughed and shook his head.
"Don't call me Sir! We dark elves have no knightly orders. Honor is incomprehensible to us; the only respect we recognize is the kind born of power and fear. Fortunately for my talents, nothing terrifies our mistresses more than a surprise dagger to the throat or poison slipped into their drinks."
"I trust the Seven Fingers will support me in my mission, and that my having eliminated one of your own won't cause any bad blood between us."
"My companion's death was a minor oversight... the heat of the moment. We want the same thing, Sir Axiel. The domination and triumph of The Master. Of course I will help you. Humiliating Moonsong... that will just be a bonus, a welcome side effect."
With a nod of the head, they parted ways.
Axiel navigated a series of secret tunnels to leave The Master's lair. He met up with a pair of red-coated soldiers waiting with three horses, and together they rode back toward the exit of the Great Rift.
During the journey, Axiel dwelled on how much he distrusted Zerom's deceitful smiles, but mostly, he replayed Moonsong's words in his mind.
"A phantom leader...?" he muttered.
It seemed the idea that the Mage King was no longer in this world wasn't just confined to the whispers of back alleys and conspirators' slums; it had seeped into the very depths of the underground.
Axiel never expected it, but the very next morning, news tying into that exact thought would arrive at the castle.
...
"Rebellion?! W-War?!" Captain Lynel gasped, losing his breath at the news delivered by the messenger kneeling in the center of the throne room.
Marc grunted and frowned, his hands clasped near his mouth. Hilda listened with her single eye closed. Axiel maintained a calm expression, though inwardly he wondered how to profit from this situation before his own plan's deadline expired.
Jimbo was also present, listening in after Hilda told him a messenger had arrived with urgent news.
«A war far away from here. Kinda interesting, maybe I could give them a couple of super strategy tips if they asked... But my influence and vision barely reach a few feet above ground, so it's not my problem.» He thought, though he stayed tuned in anyway to catch the latest gossip.