An Offer (2)

By the time they had finished their shopping under Sebas’s strict, soul-crushing budget enforcement, the sun had begun its slow descent. The town behind them shimmered in the evening glow but Renn found no time to appreciate it. He was too busy bouncing inside the rattling carriage as it trundled along the uphill path.

“W-We’re still not there?” he muttered, clutching the edge of the seat for stability.

Steel, sitting across from him, folded his arms over his broad chest. “Yeah… even with the carriage, this is—”

“Ahem.”

The sharp, pointed cough from Sebas, who was somehow sitting perfectly still despite the terrain cut through the cabin like a blade.

Steel fell silent immediately. The dull clank of his armor shifting was the only sound that followed.

“…Lovely evening,” Steel muttered weakly.

Renn stared at him, confused. Did the walking slab of armor just get scolded?

The carriage eventually reached the top of the long stone path, curving through a sparse woodland that finally opened to reveal an estate built atop the hill. It was a grand but quiet place, an older mansion whose walls bore stories of age, pride, and silence. From the front steps, one could see the entire town laid out below like a diorama. The sprawl of rooftops, clustered streets, and winding alleys glimmered under the dying sunlight.

Renn stepped out of the carriage and exhaled. “It’s so far… No wonder no one visits.”

“Exactly,” Steel said with a grunt, stepping down behind him. “It’s inconvenient and—”

“Ahem.”

Steel snapped his visor toward Sebas again.

“…And it builds character,” he corrected smoothly, hands on his hips.

Sebas offered a pleasant, thin smile. “Quite.”

Renn blinked. These two were definitely not normal.

As they approached the mansion, its gothic silhouette loomed over them. The tall iron gates creaked open as if greeting old friends. The path ahead was lined with overgrown stone tiles, but the house itself stood strong, its windows gleaming with polish and the front doors already opened in anticipation.

A maid in a crisp uniform bowed deeply at their arrival.

“Welcome home, Lord—”

“Spare the greetings,” Sebas said, not unkindly but firmly. “We’ve been away, and I need to check for damage.”

He didn’t wait for her response, disappearing into the hall with swift, purposeful steps.

The maid blinked, then straightened up. “Ah… Welcome, guest.”

Renn nodded shyly. “Uh, thank you…?”

Inside, the mansion was quiet and elegant. The architecture was sharp but refined. Though aged, the furniture was well-maintained, the floors were clean, and the smell of faint herbs and aged wood lingered in the air. The flicker of wall-mounted lamps lit their path.

Renn looked around in disbelief. “This place is huge… and beautiful. So, uh, you guys really live here?”

Steel, clanking along beside him, didn’t respond at first.

Then, with a metallic shrug, he said, “Temporarily.”

Renn opened his mouth to ask further, but before he could—

“Inside,” Sebas said firmly, returning without even a speck of dust on his gloves. “We shall discuss over tea.”

Renn instinctively straightened his posture.

The three entered a refined sitting room where an arrangement of well-cushioned chairs and a polished oak table awaited them. The maid from earlier had already begun preparing the tea.

Sebas nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Nothing burned. Nothing stolen. No mysterious bloodstains. I might yet reward her this month.”

Steel leaned on the wall, already fiddling with the sheath of his sword.

Renn, still looking around with wide eyes, couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Seriously… Who are these people?”

Steel turned toward him, and from beneath the shadows of his helm, Renn felt a chilling stare even if no eyes were seen.

“You’ll find out,” Steel said calmly.

Renn suddenly wasn’t sure if he should be excited… or terrified.

***

Renn found himself seated stiffly in a room that felt far too important for someone like him. The chairs were plush, the ceiling was high, and the table was so polished he could see his own worried face reflected in it.

Maps. Pins. Strange glowing crystals. Old tomes. A large board with notes written in immaculate handwriting, some of which he couldn’t even understand. This was, according to Sebas, the “strategy room.”

It looked like a war council was about to break out.

Or worse, that he was going to be assigned to lead one.

He gulped and sat as still as he could.

“This is where we will discuss our dungeon-related matters,” Sebas said, his tone brisk. “Consider yourself privileged.”

“P-Privileged. R-right…” Renn squeaked.

He gulped as the maid approached and gently set a delicate cup in front of him. The tea inside steamed gently, topped with a few floating leaves.

Trying to shake off his anxiety, Renn glanced to his left—at the towering figure of Steel, who stood silent with arms crossed and his gaze locked (or so Renn assumed) on the steaming drink in front of him.

Renn braced himself and took a sip.

Regret struck instantly.

His soul attempted to leave his body. The taste was earthy. But not in a good, healthy way. It was like someone had steeped dead leaves in a muddy puddle and added a dash of despair.

He stared at the cup in dawning horror.

“Holy mother of Aria…” he whispered. 

“It is dirt…”

Steel, catching this, turned his helm toward Renn. “You… drank that?”

Renn blinked. “Y-yeah? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”

Steel leaned in slightly. “Bold.”

Sebas coughed lightly, drawing their attention. “Now then, onto more pressing matters. Renn, you mentioned you’ve heard a few things about the dungeon?”

“Y-Yes.” Renn gratefully set the cup down. “I only heard rumors really, but they say the Dungeon of Pride messes with your mind. It tests your ego—your sense of identity. Illusions, psychological traps, that kind of thing. I was thinking of buying a scroll of illusion cleansing but, um… I don’t have the money for it.”

Sebas gave him a curt nod. “Reasonable deduction. Your information, while surface-level, is not entirely incorrect.”

He turned to the wall and, with a movement both elegant and practiced, opened a hidden panel. From it, he pulled a small stack of thick, leather-bound books, each one worn at the corners but meticulously kept.

Renn leaned forward, curious. Steel, meanwhile, took a step back and looked to the side, noticeably avoiding eye contact with the books as if they were cursed.

“...My Lord,” Sebas said without turning, “I have done some independent research.”

Steel’s shoulders shifted ever so slightly.

Sebas dropped the books with a heavy thud on the table. “These contain all known accounts and fragmented records of the Dungeon of Pride. Not many have returned with knowledge, and fewer still were sane enough to document it. But there is one consistent theme... Ego must be cast aside.”

He opened one of the books to a marked page and gestured at a charcoal sketch of a massive, twisted castle nestled in a pit of shadows.

“The dungeon is modeled after a castle. Its halls are elegant, deceptive, and ever-shifting. Some floors mimic grand ballrooms. Others are like royal gardens laced with dangers. The enemies within it are… strange. Not beasts, not entirely spirits either. Many are humanoid, knights, nobles, jesters. Possibly former adventurers, now cursed by their own pride.”

Renn swallowed hard, already beginning to question his life decisions.

Sebas turned a page, revealing a vague sketch of a monstrous being with too many faces and crowns stacked atop its head.

“This one is called The Court of Mirrors. It is not known how it attacks, only that adventurers who faced it never returned. Others spoke of hallucinations and false reflections.”

Steel turned his helmet slightly away.

Renn glanced between them nervously. “S-So… not your usual ‘stab it and loot the chest’ dungeon then?”

Sebas clasped his hands behind his back. “No. It is a dungeon designed to prey upon pride. Those with inflated egos are the first to fall. Self-deception is lethal within.”

His tone shifted ever so slightly, colder, sharper. His eyes flicked to Steel.

“My Lord… I trust you understand what that means.”

Steel gave a metallic grunt and crossed his arms. “I’ll try not to accidentally flaunt my nonexistent greatness.”

Renn blinked. “Nonexistent?”

Sebas gave him a polite but firm smile. “Don’t try to make sense of it. He does it naturally.”

Steel muttered something under his breath about “just wanting to swing a sword dramatically one time.”

Sebas cleared his throat and continued. “We will proceed with utmost caution. I will begin drafting potential layouts and theoretical triggers. Expect illusions, manipulations, and emotional distortions.”

Renn hesitantly raised a hand. “Are you… are you sure we’re going in soon?”

Steel looked at him and nodded. “The sooner, the better.”

Sebas narrowed his eyes. “Only after we are properly prepared.”

“Of course, of course,” Steel muttered quickly. “Wouldn’t dream of rushing. Nope. Not me.”

Renn looked at the two of them, wondering if this was what normal adventuring parties were like. Then he glanced down at his teacup again.

No. Nothing about this was normal. 

Sebas slowly closed the last book with a thunk, the weight of its contents settling into the room. Silence followed. The flickering chandelier above cast gentle shadows across the map-strewn table.

Then, Sebas raised his eyes and locked them directly on Renn.

The atmosphere shifted. The butler’s gaze wasn’t hostile, but it was calculating—sharp enough to pierce through any façade. Renn, still seated and clutching his dirt-flavored tea, felt as though he’d just become the subject of an intense interview… one where the wrong answer might cost him his life.

“I…” Renn cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “I-Is something wrong…?”

Sebas didn’t answer at first. He merely tilted his head and observed. As if dissecting a specimen.

Then he spoke.

“I’m sorry for this, young man. But… Lina.”

Shlick.

Renn’s blood turned to ice.

Out of nowhere, the little maid girl, Lina appeared behind him, a dagger resting very intimately along his neck. Her expression was calm, almost bored, as if holding a blade to someone’s throat was just part of the daily routine. And for her, it probably was.

“W-Wha—?!”

Renn froze. His hands raised slightly. A drop of sweat trickled down his cheek.

His eyes darted toward the armored man across the table.

“Steel!?” he squeaked, voice barely holding together. “W-What’s going on?!”

Steel said nothing. He simply stared. That visor, emotionless, unreadable tilted slightly. The silent judgment felt heavier than any threat. Renn’s stomach twisted.

Did I do something wrong?! Did I drink too less of the tea?! SHOULD I HAVE DRINKED IT ALL?!

Sebas spoke, voice calm but cold.

“I’m about to share something that must not leave the confines of these walls. Should that ever happen, you will be found. You will be silenced. Quickly and… painlessly, if you are lucky.”

Renn gulped.

Steel raised a gauntlet in protest, but Sebas raised a single gloved finger.

“This is necessary, my Lord. We must know who we’re bringing into this. Even if he’s just a recruit.”

Steel lowered his hand with a sigh. “...Fine.”

Sebas turned back to Renn.

“Tell me. What do you think of this town?”

Renn blinked. “T-The town…?”

“Yes. Be honest.”

“I-I don’t know,” Renn stammered. “I just got here…”

The blade inched closer. The steel kissed his skin.

“AH—WAIT!” Renn yelped. “It’s a mess! The roads are cracking! The people are cold! Everything looks like it’s been slowly… rotting!”

Sebas paused. Then gave a small nod. “Acceptable.”

The blade didn’t move away.

“Do you know why the town is in such a state?”

Renn’s brain scrambled. “N-No, but… but it’s probably the fault of the town’s lord, right?!”

There was a beat of silence.

Steel slowly turned away from him.

“...Ouch,” he muttered under his breath.

Sebas glanced at his master, brow ever so slightly twitching. “Please forgive his ignorance, my Lord.”

Steel raised a hand. “Nah, nah, it’s fine. It’s fine. I am a pretty suspicious guy. I mean I did abandon my duties! But I was in a coma back then but that shouldn't be an excuse... that damn mayor.”

Renn’s mind blanked. What?! Did he just agree with me!?

Sebas inhaled slowly, recomposing himself before continuing.

“Now then. One final question.” His tone deepened, strangely specific. “If, by chance, you were dragged into a scenario where the true cause of the town’s suffering threatened you into revealing confidential information, specifically, information regarding the real identity of the lord, who is also the source of this chaos, what would you do?”

Steel slowly turned his helm toward Sebas.

“...Sebas.”

“Hypothetically,” Sebas said dryly. “Just a hypothetical.”

Renn’s jaw dropped. Was this a test? A trick question? Are they joking? Are they serious?!

He looked to the dagger near his throat. To the maid, unblinking.

To the visor of a man made of iron.

And finally, he swallowed and said with everything he had:

“I-I don’t know how I’d handle something that crazy… but… but I’d stand for what I think is right!”

Silence.

Lina blinked. Sebas tilted his head. Steel leaned in slightly.

Then—

Sebas raised a hand.

Lina vanished.

Renn gasped and clutched his neck, wiping the sweat from his brow. He felt like he’d aged ten years in ten seconds.

Sebas simply nodded. “Very well.”

Steel crossed his arms. “Did we have to pull a knife on him?”

“You were nearly convinced by the mayor, a man who almost forgot to wear pants to a council meeting. Forgive me for being thorough.”

“That was once.”

Renn stared at the two of them in disbelief. “...What are you people…?”

Sebas straightened. “You may ask your questions after dinner.”

Renn blinked again. “Wait, I get dinner?”

“Indeed,” Sebas said. “You survived initiation.”

“...Initiation?! THAT WAS INITIATION?!”

Steel gave him a thumbs-up. “Welcome to the team.”