«He wants what?»
Jimbo was just convincing himself that no one had found out about his little trick during the jousts when Dowmy appeared with the news that Marcus wanted to join the dungeon.
"Should I kick him out and tell him to never come back?" the imp asks with narrowed eyes and obvious antipathy. It took Dowmy some time, and a pretty dress, to make peace with the idea of sharing Jimbo with Hilda.
«No, wait. I need to think about it.»
Jimbo had been supporting the boy for a while, and it was evident that Marcus admired him. But would such admiration persist once they got to know each other thoroughly? Or would the feeling vanish when Marcus heard Jimbo's voice and felt it didn't sound like a titan or a god?
«That's ridiculous, Jimbo,» he told himself. «Your voice used to make entire armies tremble! There wasn't a player who didn't fear you. Therefore... Dowmy, let Marcus know he can come in.»
Dowmy went out through the double doors and returned shortly after, leading a young soldier in wooden armor by the hand. Jimbo was thankful to just be a floating crystal; otherwise, he wouldn't know what face to make when Marcus's attention was captured by the core's long, right angles.
"I, Marcus, offer you my absolute devotion and my life! If you order me to leap into an abyss, I shall do it! If you order me to battle a hundred men, I shall do it!" the soldier exclaimed, planting his knee and bowing his head in total devotion.
«Easy, kid, easy! We're just getting to know each other face to face, or more specifically, face to blue crystal. Dowmy, tell Marcus what he needs to do.»
Dowmy nods with the immediacy of someone fulfilling a direct order from heaven, walks up to Marcus, shakes him by the shoulders to make him raise his head, and instructs him to touch the crystal's surface with his hand.
"I don't know if that's appropriate..." the soldier says, insecure.
"What's wrong? Do you think the master is dirty? How rude."
"Huh?! No, nothing like that! The dungeon core is like clear spring water, to the point I feel unworthy to even look at it."
If Jimbo had cheeks, they would be painted red with embarrassment. He urges Dowmy to hurry Marcus up.
"If you don't feel capable, then leave, human. You won't be missed; we have plenty of dumb humans to spare," the imp assures, referring to the cavemen.
Marcus swallows hard, and determined not to miss the opportunity, walks toward the core and stands at the edge of the pit where the crystal floats. He looks at the deep darkness below, then raises his face and contemplates his reflection on the crystal's blue surface. He reaches out his hand, feeling a hard exterior and a warmth coming from within that catches him off guard. It's as if fire is burning and churning in the core's entrails.
Connection point found. Do you wish to formalize the external link?
Jimbo accepts.
Formalizing link…
25%...
50%...
80%...
100%. Link completed.
Jimbo takes a look at his new addition's stats.
-Marcus the spring soldier
Classes: Soldier LV 21 / ??? (Great Person) LV 1.
-Health: Full.
-Ki: 38/38
-Strength: Athletic.
-Agility: Athletic.
-Endurance: Athletic.
-Status: Excited. Accelerated.
Note: The Great Person type will be specified throughout the person's life and actions.
«Alright, it's all done. Didn't hurt a bit, did it? Let me introduce myself as Jimbo, the dungeon core at the service of the kingdom.»
Marcus doesn't answer and just stares as if his mind has gone blank. Jimbo clears his throat, and the young soldier finally shudders and reacts.
"Is it really you speaking inside my head? I wasn't expecting a voice so... normal."
«Does it bother you?»
"Not at all!"
Marcus hurries to prostrate himself once again. Jimbo wonders to himself how kneeling on the hard floor doesn't hurt them.
"You have the voice of someone who could be an everyday friend! Because undoubtedly you are; you have helped me and answered my prayers when not even the gods listened to me. You also saved my family; I will never forget that. For that and more, I respect you and wish to be of use to you."
«You're a soldier of the kingdom. Will your superiors agree with you dedicating yourself to me?»
Marcus bites his lip and averts his gaze, gestures making it evident that he hadn't thought too much about that part of his responsibilities.
"I hope so. I would continue fighting for the kingdom, only under your orders, Master Jimbo, and that fills me with pride. They say dungeon cores are monsters, lacking a conscience and a heart... Those books and testimonies are wrong, and you are living proof."
«I'll talk to Hilda about this. You fought well today; you should go rest and talk to your family. But remember, no shouting from the rooftops that you're linked to me; there are many who don't know who or what I am, and the king himself asked us to be careful with the secret.»
"Yes!"
Marcus stands up and bows repeatedly; he turns around, and just as it seemed he was leaving, he stops and turns his face back to the crystal.
"Master Jimbo, I have a small request."
Jimbo, through his silence, indicates to Marcus that he can keep talking.
"I'll accept your help before or after a battle, but during... It might sound ungrateful, but as the warrior I am, it feels dishonorable to win through trickery."
Jimbo lets out a mix between a sigh and a grunt.
«That hooded guy was going to kill you. And if you had died, all the help I gave you would be wasted, like a 40-hour raid lost right before killing the boss and getting the loot.»
"Pardon? I don't understand."
«Nothing, nothing. Look, Marcus, it was my decision; the dishonor is mine and I don't mind bearing it. In fact, let it all fall on me! I'll chew it up and swallow it without leaving any for anyone else. So go with a peaceful mind, you annoying lawful good warrior.»
"But—"
«But nothing! If you accepted my previous gifts, you will also accept this extra little help. Or do you wish to sever our connection? You said not to call you ungrateful, but look at you, earning it.»
Marcus paled, shook his head, apologized, and headed for the exit as if afraid Jimbo would make the final decision.
«Marcus!»
The young soldier went stiff as a wooden board, thinking the worst.
«I have a question that's been stuck in my head since the first time I saw you. How did you get that scar on your face?»
Marcus lets out a sigh of relief, looks at the core, points a finger at his own cheek, and smiles embarrassedly.
"I wish I could say there was a fight or some drama behind it, but the truth is I accidentally cut myself with a vegetable knife when I was a child, barely a baby."
«I never liked babies, nor parents, which I never had. But people should be more careful and keep knives away from those little balls of fat.»
"You must excuse my mother, who passed away bringing me into the world and was at no fault. As for my father, I can't blame him, because he always worked hard to provide for my sister and me."
"I like babies," Dowmy interrupted with a vague smile that Jimbo unequivocally identified as an expression of appetite.
Jimbo gave the young soldier permission to leave again, waited a few minutes to give Marcus a chance to exit the dungeon, and then ordered Dowmy to fetch Hilda.
Hilda arrived at the core room 20 minutes later. Jimbo conveyed the events of the meeting with Marcus and the boy's wishes, noting that the link with the core was made and Marcus could now hear him.
"And is it possible to break that union?" the woman asks, narrowing her single eye and not moving the slightest expression line.
«I suppose. It's not something I've tested yet. Why? Don't you like Marcus joining the group?»
"I'm surprised the boy chose this path over attending the royal knight academy. It shows he's very shortsighted, or very determined. And Jimbo, you should know that what we think is inconsequential. The king will make the final decision."
«I wish I were king so my words were law!» Jimbo says, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh.
"His Majesty is king by obligation, and if the world waltzed to his desires, he would have cast off the crown long ago and returned to live among the lush forests of his homeland."
«Meaning he isn't much different from me; being here, locked up, fulfilling duties.»
"The world is what it is. Now stop complaining like a maiden having her first menstrual blood and work. I saw several dead vines on the way here, and the humidity seems to be weakening the stone."
«I'll work hard, ma'am!» Jimbo says, giving an invisible salute with his ethereal hand and rolling his eyes.
"Are you mocking me?"
«No, no, not at all.»
"I'm not one for jokes."
«What? Really?» Jimbo lets out a gasp and brings his hands to his nonexistent head.
Hilda opens her mouth, and Jimbo expects a harsh scolding, but the inquisitor's words take him by surprise.
"A shipowner from Aquas was walking along the beaches, lost in his thoughts and melancholy, when a fisherman asked him the reason for his worry. He replied that he owed money to an important banker from Platia, and that he couldn't pay. The fisherman answered: 'Leave that worry to your creditor.'"
When the captain finished speaking, both stared at each other in an embarrassingly long silence that Jimbo broke with a:
«What...?»
Hilda turned her back on the core and left.
Jimbo hurried back to work. Though a part of him kept wondering what decision would be made regarding Marcus's fate.
...
When Hilda entered the throne room and informed King Marc of young Marcus's wishes, the ruler was surprised and then lowered his gaze thoughtfully. Hilda waited impassively, and the subtle, proud smile the sovereign flashed for a second did not go unnoticed by her.
King Marc said:
"That young man is very humble; he has no ambitions beyond serving here in his homeland. The dungeon saved his family from the dark elves, right? Good Henry, and his daughter... Leonor. What do you think, my loyal captain? You know the dungeon better than I do, and lately you have become its main defender."
"Marcus is a strong and promising soldier. He will be more useful here than learning etiquette and politics in Great Conquistia. Jimbo is a loyal and intelligent creature; he will know how to use the boy."
"In that case, we will follow young Marcus's wishes. Let him serve the dungeon well, and consequently, serve the kingdom well."
Hilda nodded, bowed, and withdrew.
The king climbed the steps and slumped onto the throne, hunched over, his face crossed by shadows stoked by two nearby braziers. Marc closed his eyes but continued to see. He visualized Marcus, brave, in his armor of wood and leaves, marked on the cheek with an x-shaped scar. Then he saw him shrink until he became a bundle placed in the arms of a woman with brown eyes and sand-colored hair, dressed with the simplicity of peasant women; pretty, but nowhere near a beauty capable of provoking wars or the destruction of entire kingdoms.
Leonora.
Marc met her 17 years ago, when he was just an envoy of the Druid Kingdom, newly arrived in Stoicus. At that time, he proudly wore his wild mane and black beard, and instead of brocade, his broad shoulders were draped in silver deer pelts, and his crown was an ornament of thorny boar tusks. During a casual stroll through the inner alleys of the third wall, while suspiciously eyeing those streets of chiseled stone and houses made of dead trees, he accidentally bumped into her and knocked over the wicker basket she carried. Leonora stepped back, surprised and intimidated by that strange barbarian, but Marc rushed to pick up the tomatoes, potatoes, and onions, and with the flush of embarrassment, he exhausted himself apologizing and only calmed down when she accepted his courtesy of carrying the basket to her home.
They talked, introduced themselves, and in less than 1,500 steps, a candle of affability was lit between the two, growing warmer upon entering the humble house. Leonora introduced Marc to her brother, Henry. They continued talking about themselves and life until dusk fell, and they promised to see each other again the next day.
The courtship lasted three months. Leonora helped Marc understand that strange, hurried world the nobles insisted on calling civilized society, and Marc amazed Leonora with tales of the ancient forests, their rivers, their lakes, their swamps covered in a glowing mist from countless fireflies. One night they gave in to passion, and weeks later, when Leonora confirmed to Marc that she was with child, the druid made up his mind: He would marry her and make her the woman of his life.
Marc was an excellent match for any ordinary, unimportant young woman like Leonora. The nobles he met cast him in the role of a diplomat, and in the eyes of high society, perhaps he was; but in his own view, he was just a druid with a calmer mindset than his peers, yet no less firm and brave, famous in his homeland for always doing his duty no matter how difficult. His rustic garments camouflaged his wealth, kept in one of his trunks: brimming with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds—gems to which Marc never gave much importance within his austere customs, until he had to think about providing a good life for Leonora.
But above peasants and diplomats are the rulers, the powerful, and they argued and manipulated destinies ignorant of these pacts and calculations. A few days before the expected death of the old, sick king, Aristobulus III, a barren man and the last of his dynasty, the council of the united kingdoms voted, and out of all the possible candidates, the new lineage to rule over Stoicus was decreed.
Lord Bastion of Platia put himself forward, and in the eyes of many, he more than fit the role: rich, powerful, of ancient lineage, and more than willing to benefit his allies. But Lord Bastion's ambitions had over time earned him many enemies who hindered his nomination, and he had to settle for offering his daughter, Gineber, as queen.
The druids, who had long lacked any interference in the royalty of Stoicus, and worried that such a trend would weaken the security provided by politics over their forests, applied pressure. And since the voice of nature remembered much better than men, they made use of chronologies, historical archives, and promises spanning decades and centuries to have a druid seated on the throne of Stoicus.
The morning after learning he would have a son with his beloved, Marc found out he would be king, as well as the husband of a complete stranger. The high druids relayed the message to him and withdrew, confident that everything was sealed and perfectly settled, for Marc always fulfilled his duties without a word of complaint. But those ancient, wise men were unaware of the tempest brewing inside Marc's chest, torn between love and duty.
He met Gineber in the castle's inner garden, and she took his hands delicately, offering him the tender smile of someone proud to fulfill her duty. Marc looked at her with total coldness, as if she were made of stone, and during meals, when she questioned if she had done something wrong, Marc pressed his lips together and merely shook his head.
It wasn't Gineber's fault that she wasn't Leonora. But that didn't stop the rift between them from growing wider each day.
Marc was crowned, married, and set to rule, but that never stopped him from hiding under a thick hood and sneaking out to secretly meet with his beloved.
It was in Henry's home that Leonora gave birth, assisted by two trusted midwives. Marc held his beloved's hand the whole time, until Leonora, writhing in pain and heavy sweat, gave birth to a small boy who immediately cried.
Leonora held the baby in an embrace full of love and declared he would be named Marcus, in tribute to the man who won her heart and gave her that blessing. Seeing that little bundle of dark black hair, Marc felt a warm tenderness swell in his chest, and tears of sorrow soaked his thick beard. Leonora noticed and questioned the reason for his grief, when the birth of his firstborn should fill him with joy.
"I weep because I will dishonor myself, my beloved. I weep because in a week, we shall escape this kingdom together."
"Oh, Marc," tears also welled up in the woman's eyes.
They held each other on the bed, careful not to hurt little Marcus, and oblivious to the shadow watching the scene from the window.
Marc wept back then from joy and sorrow. But in the present, with the crown of twelve metals upon his head, he wept with regret.
"Oh, Leonora, my only love. Oh, Marcus, my son. Perhaps one day, if the gods are merciful, I can mend this mistake."
A new shadow was watching Marc in the present, though this one was blue. Jimbo, his mouth open so wide it would unhinge his jaw if he had one, slowly descended back to his domain, seriously considering if it would be less troublesome to just never leave it.
...
As Marcus descended the stairs toward the castle's exit, he found a couple coming up in the opposite direction. Seeing the red armor, he readied himself to greet them, but upon noticing the silver hair, the crown, and the exquisite silver and gold dress, he knelt on the steps and bowed his head.
"My captain, Your Majesty."
Axiel and Gineber were walking arm in arm. The captain smiled kindly at the young soldier and allowed him to raise his head, congratulating him on his performance in today's jousts. Marcus relaxed and was going to return the thanks, but fell silent upon seeing Gineber's expression.
The queen was pale as a ghost, and the beautiful shine in her eyes was distorted by the fire of surprise and recognition. Axiel, perceiving his partner's unease, asked if she felt dizzy. She shook her head without taking her eyes off the soldier.
"You, boy, are... The spring soldier. Yes, there's no doubt, now that I see you up close, without that wooden helm..."
Gineber cut her own words short, clutched her delicate hand against the diamond necklaces on her chest, and then looked at Axiel with a mute plea in her eyes before asking him to accompany her to the inner garden.
"My lady, you know I can offer you my life if you require it, but I have an important engagement and..."
Axiel fell silent upon recognizing the desperation in Gineber's eyes, then nodded. The captain would give the queen a moment before heading to his meeting with the maiden in the tower—a meeting that would end in tragedy for the servant.
When the two illustrious figures departed, Marcus allowed himself to stand up and quickened his pace to get home. As soon as he crossed the door, Leonor pounced and wrapped him in a hug, crying and squealing with happiness, glad that Wolfen had lost and that they were rid of that shadow, while simultaneously angry at Marcus for taking such a risk fighting The Shadow.
Once Marcus appeased and calmed his sister down, he walked toward the man who raised him and hugged him with all his strength. Henry returned the embrace and whispered that the day was over, the worst had passed, and now all that was left was to rest.