A Midnight Threat
Dorne had been granted three days' grace by Kairo Bellone and was killing time in a comfortable guest room. When he first challenged the labyrinths, he'd been constantly on the move due to financial pressures and the lack of time to waste if he wanted to grow stronger. But Dorne's true nature was laid-back like this. He'd lived frantically to fit society's mold, to avoid being weeded out as a wretched failure, to escape life as a powerless medieval commoner. Yet, after acquiring his cute eyeball summon, he'd become an explorer who could grow even while resting, shedding his impatience. In Earth terms, the current Dorne was like a landlord in the explorer business. Obholder was dutifully paying rent every day.
If he reunited with the Dorne Party in the Eastern Labyrinth city, he'd push hard for Inoi's sake, but for now, he indulged in a bit of sloth. After reincarnating, he hadn't had much chance to read books, so he passed the time flipping through one. A knock from a maid echoed in Dorne's room.
Knock knock knock.
Dorne marked his page with a finger and closed the book.
"Come in."
Obholder, who had been eyeing the book Dorne was reading, shifted its gaze to the maid entering through the door.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your reading, Sir Dorne. I have urgent news."
"It's fine. What is it?"
The beastkin maid swallowed hard, hesitating before speaking gravely.
"Um... Viscount Mordyn has sent an envoy with a declaration of war to our territory."
"Declaration of war? So what happens next?"
Dorne's eyes widened at Mordyn's sudden declaration, and he asked. It was his first time witnessing nobles clashing. He'd thought that in human settlements on the outskirts of civilization, all humanity banded together against monsters. Sure, they might squabble over mines, but to formally declare territorial war... Dorne was curious about the procedures for such a conflict.
'I hope they don't ask me to help just because.'
"Likely, the forces of each territory will clash at the time and place specified in the declaration to decide victory or defeat. Because of this, the lord says he may not be able to keep the time he promised you..."
Dorne stroked his chin as he watched the maid bow her head in apology. In his view, it wasn't Bellone's fault; they were in an unavoidable situation. They couldn't just toss a few gold coins at an explorer who'd flown in from the Western Labyrinth city to save their child, nor could they splurge on a huge payout with a hostile territory marching to war. From Bellone's perspective, it was a dilemma with no easy out. Common sense dictated pushing lighter matters aside.
"Hmm... This is tricky."
The maid bowed repeatedly.
"We're truly sorry. The promised gold will take a bit longer. The family says you could take some of their special armaments instead. What would you like to do?"
Dorne couldn't decide easily on the sudden choice. How long would the war last? What if they lost? Should he take the gear and leave? Did they even have what he needed? No clear answer emerged.
"I'll think it over. I'll decide by tomorrow."
"Understood. We apologize again."
The maid bowed deeply one last time and hurried out.
In Obholder's view, the maid had become overly deferential since attending Dorne's bath.
"Holler. What should I do? This is such a mess..."
Flap flap!
Obholder, grabbed by its cheek(?), flapped its wings furiously—a protest that it had no idea.
The diligent flapping of Obholder's cute wings eased Dorne's troubled mind a little.
'Should I ask tomorrow what armaments the territory has? They won't show me the warehouse if I'm not taking anything, right?'
Dorne soothed his worries with his large hand and lay on the bed. Obholder floated nearby instead of nestling in his arms. (It had learned after being crushed under his heavy bulk while he slept.)
Grumble... grumble...
As time passed with Dorne on the bed, his breathing sounded like a beast's sleepy grumbling. The full moon reflected in Obholder's large eyes as it gazed out the window.
...!
Standing not-quite-watch, Obholder sensed a faint air vibration and turned its head(?).
......!
Through the door crack, Obholder spotted a paper being slipped in. Someone had tried something sneaky while Dorne slept! Lacking eyebrows, Obholder couldn't scowl in rage, but it narrowed its eyes furiously. Its pupil dilated and contracted, expressing its wrath. Purple mana condensed in Obholder's eye, firing as a beam that shattered the door.
Ziiing— Boom!
The purple beam blasted the door, and Obholder shot through the hole.
"H-Huh?!"
The intruder, who'd snuck up in the dead of night, gasped at the flying eyeball blasting purple beams and fled.
Zuzz zuzz zing—
Another beam from Obholder's pupil pierced the intruder's chest at light speed.
Gurgle...
The intruder collapsed with a bloody death rattle, staining the hallway carpet red. Obholder panicked as the culprit who'd targeted Dorne dropped dead. It had assumed anyone messing with a clearly tough warrior like Dorne would be somewhat competent.
...?
'Should I have kept him alive to interrogate the mastermind...?'
Labyrinth explorer Dorne. Cease meddling in the affairs of the Mordyn family any further. If you ignore our warning, you may annoy us, but you won't be able to protect everything you hold dear.
Dorne woke to the commotion—like a bolt from the blue—and was speaking with the castle folk.
"We're truly sorry, Sir Dorne. We checked the face; he was a servant recently hired at the castle."
Dorne couldn't brush this off lightly.
"Hmm... I don't feel great about it."
He'd mellowed into a leisurely life, but that didn't mean Bellone bore no fault. Intellectually, he understood they weren't gods who could control everyone perfectly, but that didn't stop his mood from souring over the sleep disruption. (At least waking to being hoisted by a bear beastkin kept his anger from boiling over.)
"Did you check the note, Sir Dorne? We can't interrogate the dead man for the culprit, but there might be clues on it."
"Ah, right. I haven't looked yet."
Elisia Bellone appeared amid the fuss of servants with lanterns cleaning the corpse and carpet. Kairo Bellone directed servants and knights efficiently. The on-duty knight, mortified, sweated profusely as he bustled about.
Paranoid about poison on the note, Dorne had Obholder unfold it with 【Telekinesis】.
The note appeared to be a warning from the Mordyn family. Dorne thought of his five comrades in the Eastern Labyrinth city and the bonds from Hailock Orphanage he cherished. Orphaned, but he'd formed attachments along the way—many now within his heart's walls. The warning from Mordyn—or whoever impersonated them—gently stroked his reverse scale. His rage transmitted to Obholder, which fired a beam before calming; its eyelid narrowed again. Dorne's resolve shifted. The iron rails before him changed course.
"Lady Elisia. When is the scheduled territory war?"
Dorne donned his visor to hide his twisted expression.
'I'll crush the Mordyn family for daring to speak of my precious ones.'
You couldn't negotiate with those who held your weakness.
"...The war is in three days. The site is the clearing near the mine."
Earth's mightiest powers operated on "We do not negotiate with terrorists." Losing hostages was a huge loss and sorrow, but negotiating invited greater harm. Once you bargained, they'd keep coming. It wasn't absolute for an individual like Dorne, but the direction rang true. In that short time, he'd already steeled himself for bloody resolve. He couldn't protect all his loved ones by flying off now. Mordyn's filthy reach—who knew how far or long? Thus, Dorne allied with Bellone to uproot the Mordyn family.
Once Dorne committed, preparations to the war site proceeded smoothly. Before coming, he'd sent a letter to the Oren Labyrinth Merchant Group in the Eastern Labyrinth city: I've clashed with a noble family; stay cautious. I'll punish them and join you soon. He also negotiated his share of spoils added to his original reward if they won.
Now, it was the day before the appointed war. Dorne had a tent for key forces. Called a tent, it was really a leather pavilion—Bellone territory's specialty from advanced traditional tanning.
"Lady Elisia. What brings you?"
Elisia visited the tent, accompanied by Hardel.
"I wanted to apologize..."
Elisia offered a sorry expression.
"Is it something for you to apologize for? I'm in a bind, sure, but it doesn't seem your fault."
Dorne had already quelled his boiling rage, left with cold, directed fury. Elisia didn't easily relax despite his comforting words.
"No, it's my fault. All this started when I ran away."
Dorne waited without comment as Elisia reflected on her past. A noble's child learning from mistakes—what was there to interrupt? Even if he disagreed, no need to meddle. After her apology and atonement in the silence Dorne granted, Elisia broke it. Her face was firmer than when she'd entered.
"Dorne. Please don't get hurt. Priests won't bestow divinity on combatants until the war ends—temple policy."
"Got it. Come in."
Dorne sat in the empty tent after Elisia Bellone and Hardel left, gauging the war's outcome. From strategy meetings, Bellone was at a disadvantage against Mordyn. They'd held even before, but without direct force or full-scale battle. Mordyn now, after generations of dispute, had exhausted patience. Dwarves, living longer than humans or beastkin, had amassed power over time, bolstered by explorers dispatched to the Northern Labyrinth. Few would match deep explorers, but Dorne would face most. (Deep explorers mostly held frontlines; expanding humanity meant more lines to defend.)
With no gear to maintain, Dorne steadied his mind. Tomorrow, he'd enter battle wielding a sword-sharp resolve, vowing to cleave anything in his path.