Gunpowder Plot

The cavernous, water-carved underground tunnel wound its way deep underneath the governmental district of New Omaha.

Skott and Lucy walked, their path illuminated only by the glow of this messenger-bug.

“It’s clearly leading us somewhere,” Skott said.

Lucy nodded. “Could it be a trap, though?”

The only sound was a slow drip of water off stalagmites on the ceiling. The paths were narrow and unidirectional enough to where they were reasonably certain they wouldn’t get lost. Still, the silence proved unnerving.

“Y’know, your mom is suggesting she wants to retire from politics once we get to a stopping point with these governmental reforms,” Skott said.

Lucy hummed her approval. “Yes. That would probably be best for mother. You two could spend more time with each other.”

Skott nodded. Before really thinking, he said, “Eh, she’s busy during the day. We manage to work out plenty of time.”

Living in the prime ministresses’ suite was a big quality of life addition over even the swankiest diplomatic inn. Skott moved right in, and he and Lamora spent most of their free time in there. Not… not that he was going to tell that to Lucy or anything. The P.M was entitled to some privacy…

That messenger-bug was waiting at the entrance to a wide open, but narrow-ceilinged chamber. The pair approached, and it unfolded like a reverse-oragami crane.

“Huh. A piece of paper?” Skott said.

Lucy daintily grabbed the top of the paper.

“It’s an enhanced parchment,” the she-orc explained.

Lettering glowed with luminescent light. Lucy read aloud at a whisper, to keep an echo off the cavern wall from drowning out her speech:

“Skott STOP. Plans were already in motion STOP. Clandestine cells that seldom communicate STOP. By the time I found out it was already well underway STOP. With your status as the prime ministresses’ consort you should be perfectly situated to prevent this STOP. This is all the aid I can manage STOP.”

“That’s the message?” Skott asked.

The glow faded slowly. They were running out of light.

“Who was it?” Lucy asked.

“I have a sneaking suspicion.” Skott found a workbench of sorts, amidst other signs of manmade artificial enhancements to this cavern.

It could only be Vivian, surely. Turning on some Redeemer contacts. Well, Skott hadn’t expected that entreaty to pay dividends so soon. But what was she leading them down here for?

Skott’s hands groped around. He thought he’d grabbed at something wooden and wrapped in fabric not long ago.

“To your left, father.”

When Skott turned, he found Lucy’s eyes glowing in the dying light.

“Heh, just like your mother,” he said, and grabbed the torch. “Let’s see. Should’ve brought a lighter around here somewhere…”

In the pitch darkness, Skott patted around on his shirt until he found something rectangular. He pulled it out, then snapped it alight. Transferring this light to a prepared torch was almost too easy. Warm torchlight flooded the chamber… revealing a stockpile of hefty barrels piled atop each other.

“These things…” Lucy sniffed.

“Gunpowder.” Skott nodded. “Even I can smell it. This is… surely…”

Above, the ceiling was revealed to be not a natural cavern, but foundations of hefty-looking bricks, sealed in place by magic.

“We’re under the Senate building?!” Skott said.

There was a strange, low hissing noise bouncing off the cavernous walls. Were they too late?

“It’s a gunpowder plot,” Skott declared, already running through narrow gaps in these rows of piled-up powder kegs. “This has, well, something similar has been tried in my world.”

“How did that turn out?”

“It didn’t succeed,” Skott said. “C’mon. We can do this…”

Where was that sound coming from? Skott traveled to the far end of the cavern, possibly the other end of the quite large senate building.

“Must have spent half a year stockpiling this stuff,” Skott said.

“Father, over there!” Lucy pointed towards a strange mechanism that held a keg in a vicelike drip.

This was some kind of elaborate detonator. Gunpowder dripped steadily from the powder keg into a pile on the floor.

Careful to keep the torch well away from this trail of powder, Skott kicked the powder away, only for more falling gunpowder to drop in its place.

A clicking sound. There was a detonator tied to the barrel. Click. Click. It was going faster!

“We really are out of time,” Skott said.

“Whatever will we do?” A hint of panic snuck through Lucy’s usually fearless façade.

“Back home, we’d have to cut a wire or something.” Skott frowned. “I mean, that’s how it works in the movies.”

A simple glance at the mechanism, a bookshelf-high contraption full of clockwork, proved that there were no wires to cut.

Click click click.

“Uh, this is counting down…” Skott tried to pull the barrel away, to no avail.

A flint and stone mechanism was situated next to the keg. The moment this clockwork began to move the flint would strike, a spark would hit the powder, and it would carry to the other barrels in a chain reaction.

“It’s wedged in there,” Skott said, trying to pull the stone apart.

Click. Click. Click Clickclickclick. The countdown was almost constant now!

"Of all the times to not bring my baseball bat!" Skott declared. 

He could've smashed the contraption to bits, if only... 

“Dad, allow me!”

Lucy stomped her foot into the gunpowder-laden floor, let out a mighty orcish howl, and then smashed the clockwork detonator system with two palms.

Clockwork flew every which way. The detonator contraption toppled over, while the gunpowder barrel flew away, bounced thrice, and landed in a shallow puddle of water.

The mechanism was stalled.

“Woo!” Lucy cried.

“Guess the simplest solution is sometimes best,” Skott said.

His mere Earth-strength would have never been able to topple the contraption.

“See, now you’re a hero. You’re sure to get renown now,” Skott said.

“It was only because you led us to this place, father,” Lucy said. “Were it not for that messenger-bug, the plot would have likely succeeded well before any suspicions could have been aroused. Mother finds feats of heroics quite sexy. You’re sure to be richly rewarded.”

“No comment.” Skott frowned, though he wasn’t angry. “But I’ll keep that in mind. Now let’s get out of here before I drop the torch and blow us all sky high anyway.”

The pair shared a laugh, then skedaddled back out of the cavernous chamber to report the gunpowder plot to authorities. There would be no surprise plot to destroy Skott's new home this day. Lamora's last few months as prime ministress ought to be relatively uneventful, and he'd bonded further with dear Lucy as well. 

Truly, his life in this new world was grand.