Becoming Monsters: In the Mirror 52

This is still a story of the Becoming Monsters universe by Ai Loves, setting used with permission. All canonical and mechanical errors are my own. The yarrb is the exceedingly cute creation of FelisRandomis, used with permission.

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Chapter 52: Meeting of Minds

I mentally prepared myself as I walked towards the Hall. With no real knowledge of what went on at the Conclave, I had to be ready for all comers. What could be there?

There would absolutely be a relatively small number of some of the most deadly people on the planet. Everyone sitting at that table had assembled or otherwise come to lead a Guild of substantial size and capability, and all were due respect and caution. I would most likely be the least dangerous person in the room, which was quite a thing to be saying. I resolved to approach as neutrally as I could. Better to seem a bit nervous on my first meeting than to come in too strong. Given the news I would be sharing, that could have lethal consequences.

Didn't quite make it to my target before I ran into a familiar face heading in the same direction. He was a Human, relatively short for a man, and slender, with sandy hair and brown eyes. He wore light armor and carried twin daggers, but his Skirmisher class never had been his greatest strength. Guild Leader Tristan Cartwright of Flight of Fury was not one of his Guild's founders, but his administrative talents had lent his predecessor's passions a lot more weight. "Guild Leader Kithkin, I see the rumors are true. You are joining us in the Marshal's Hall?"

Yep, just like I remembered. Sour voice and a sharp demand for decorum. "I am, Guild Leader Cartwright. Actually, I'm glad I ran into you before the meeting started. One of your Delvers is petitioning to join my Guild, and to keep the peace I believe the standard is to obtain permission from their senior Officers. Per bond, I will not name them."

"Take them. After the keystone to my typical tactics went on sabbatical, if they are not dedicated to the cause, I do not want them."

Not exactly how I thought this conversation would go. There was almost exactly no way he knew exactly what he had just said. "If you are sure. In that case, I have two texts to send before the meeting starts. Please, go on ahead, just need to tell my people to complete the transfer while we are occupied."

"You still don't much believe in wasting time, do you, Kithkin? Just like when we contracted you."

I smiled a bit. "Some things do not change. Wasting time in my Guild's business means that people die. I will see you again at the hall." He nodded at me and kept walking as I stopped to pull out my phone. Sending messages to Stephan and to my Guild Chat where the ladies could see it was the work of thirty seconds. They would get him inducted by the time my meeting was over, hopefully well before Tristan realized exactly what he'd given me.

And really? That was emblematic of his style. Nearly every Guild Leader in the Seattle Guild Hall could name every Delver under their command. Tristan Cartwright couldn't, and did not care to. He only saw assets and liabilities. Numbers on a spreadsheet. His was an impersonal leadership. Values in, values out.

I came to the Hall, walked through to the back room. A place I had only been once before. The arrangement was different this time, seven people of various shapes and sizes seated around one large table. One chair stood open, which I took to mean it was my place. It was at the left hand of the Marshal. Jordan Shapiro was no less a force than before, and he nodded in my direction as I came in, pointing to the empty seat. There was silence in the room otherwise. Even the emotions in the air were muted, sharply controlled. I took the chair.

"I do not anticipate this meeting going long," he started without preamble. "We have a new member of the Major Guilds. As junior most, he sits at lowest priority. I represent the Camp, and the Guild Talmid. Six members, all present. The Camp continues preparation for Dungeon Expo West, starting Friday the 26th and running through Sunday the 28th. Coordination with City Hall is complete, and a VIP guest list will be distributed soon. I will of course not be personally present during the Sabbath, my brother Simon will cover for what is necessary." His face seemed a bit distasteful at that. "As I said in our last meeting, no Dungeon Delves will be permitted during the Expo, in order to prevent guests from getting lost in the Labyrinth. I have no further updates." All of the Leaders present had pulled out notebooks of various kinds and were recording salient points. I did not have one, a bit of an oversight.

The large, gold-flecked Gargoyle to his right picked up smoothly. Theodore Weiss led Golden Age, the strongest individual Guild in Washington. "Golden Age has 91 members. Eighty-six are active, three recovering from injury, and two are in the process of retiring for medical reasons." I felt slightly guilty about that one. Those last two had acquired severe life drain from fighting the cursed form of my wife, though they didn't know it at the time. My Guild had come to their rescue, but it wasn't quite enough. "Our mission to gather Keys for specific taskings proceeds, but we have not been able to find Lair doors this month. The Biomes have shifted."

"That is concerning, but not immediate. Anything else?"

"No, that is all." The shifting Labyrinth formed the first floor of our local Dungeon, the Biomes the second. If the known routes to the hideously dangerous Lairs of the third floor had changed, it was about to become much more difficult for Golden Age to find rarer and more powerful materials.

Next to him was a Human, dressed concerningly casually. Guild Leader Sherman, of Uprising, had no need nor desire to show off. Like our Marshal, his appearance was nondescript if you just glanced at him without context. Unmemorable to the point that some thought it was a rare Class Ability. He was also the highest level Assault known, able to slay most enemies before they registered he was a threat. "Uprising has 85 assigned, 80 active, four on temporary leave of absence, one dealing with a Status issue. Our scout teams have identified two more rapid-warp zones in the further Labyrinth reaches, and we are planning more dedicated missions to find out what's in them. That is all for me."

"What is the Status issue?"

"One of our strikers is molting, which gets in the way of his ability to move freely. Given that he is in an Agility build, we have taken him off of Delve rotation for the time being."

"Understood." Jordan seemed to be deeply in thought as he nodded towards the next person, Tristan, who in turn gave a perfectly boring briefing. One that included one on sabbatical, which I forbore to mention was no longer technically true. After him was a significantly more colorful guy. Standing about five and a half feet in his inverted wetsuit, one that did not cover his colorful and conical shell, was Guild Leader Matthew Arden, of Longshot. A sniper, who led snipers, and whose Race let him generate toxins so lethal that rumor had it he had closed out a gate full of dragons with one precise shot apiece. His rifle was casually leaning against the wall behind him, reflecting the light oddly. One of Quiverbow's builds, likely one of the strongest she had ever assembled. By itself, that would be alarming. Together with his Race and Class, it was downright horrifying. Sherman could kill someone before they identified him as a threat. Arden could kill someone well before the target had anything to evaluate.

The next two were more closely matched than most. The first was a tall Raven Beastfolk, a gold ring piercing the tip of one of his primary feathers where a hand might otherwise have been. The other was a wizened old man, skin pale and hair shockingly white. Guild Leaders Edgar Pierce of Munin's Wing and Patrick Smith of Borealis, both clad in black Wizard robes. Their reports were... much more concerning. To me, anyway. In a harsh voice, the Raven explained that collection efforts for some kind of major working were completed, and that the rituals themselves would be initiated the next day. "If our calculations are correct, then on the last day of the Expo you will be able to announce its completion."

"Excellent. Anything that keeps the threats confined to the immediate area around Camp will make everyone's lives easier. Is there anything else?"

"No, Marshal Shapiro." Guild Leader Smith's voice was as wizened as the rest of him.

"Good, then that leaves one. Guild Leader Kithkin, I expect you have a lot to tell us about."

My watch buzzed a text alert. Stephen was officially inducted. "I do, sir. Shield Against Shadows stands at 12 members, one of whom is a Protectorate minor, all active. In the last two months we have taken down seven major Demonic incursions, one with the help of Golden Age, the source of them, and closed out three Gates. They are increasing in strength, I suspect that the Seattle Dungeon might be entering a Surge state. Thankfully, I do have some assistance now on top side, which should contribute to public safety."

Everyone at the table was looking at me quizzically. Mashal Shapiro's eyebrows furrowed a bit. "I assume this has something to do with the mission I set you on two days ago?"

"Yes, sir. To summarize, there is significant discontent among the Minor Guilds and Independents of Camp, owing largely to the actions of the Guilds represented at this table." The looks got much less quizzical and much more thunderous. "I will not accuse, but according to them everything from material acquisition to map and archive updates to training for new Delvers are being held much more internally than before, which is making lives hard. It is interfering with the function of Crafter's Row, several of those Guilds' basic plans of action, and the training of newcomers. To that end, they have elected to unionize, and have asked me to be their representative in addition to leading my own Guild. I have accepted, and am going through the process of making it official."

There was a snort from the large Gargoyle two seats away. Weiss did not hesitate to speak up, the first break of direct one-on-one updates I had seen so far. "A Union of Delvers? That's called a Guild, and if they wanted a seat at this table they could also organize to that point. I am not going to react to a couple dozen malcontents. How many signatories could have come on? Twenty? Twenty-five, tops?"

"As of this morning, I have one hundred and eighty-two signatories. This is, if I remember correctly, exactly double the size of Golden Age. The number is still growing." He blanched. Seemed to be a habit of mine whenever we spoke, last time almost got thirty of his people killed. "They are angry, Theodore. The alternative to me representing them would have been open warfare."

The Cone Snail's voice burbled a bit. His vocal cords did not work quite like most. "Brave words, Jeremiah. To come in here flexing like that. Explain why we should let you leave this room alive."

That rifle... and the sharp point at the tip of his conical shell... forced me to use every ounce of my self-control to stay steady. The Marshal looked like he was about to speak, but was interrupted by Tristan of all people. "Save it, Guild Leader Arden. If he is lying or exaggerating, we will know within days and he loses all support he would have had at this Table. If he is telling the truth, killing him would spark immediate retribution from unknown numbers of our own while simultaneously martyring him in their eyes... and at that, I've never known Guild Leader Kithkin to lie. Not when he used to contract with my predecessor, not when the Raiders dissolved, and not when doing so would have preserved the old incarnation of his Guild."

"Thank you for the support."

"Do not mistake my statement as support, Guild Leader Kithkin. It was fact. Nothing more, nothing less. Regardless of truth or fiction, you have made yourself an enemy of most of us in the last three minutes."

"I hope you all come to see otherwise, but if it must be so then I will continue to represent those who have been ignored. I do not wish to see them set against your number. I want to see cooperation spread so that everyone can be safer and more effective."

The Raven spoke. "Which is why you went and inducted a minor Metal Slime in front of the cameras. For safety. Anyone at this table knows he's there and can cash him out for power."

That was across several lines. The table dropped silent. "Edgar. I have said this to one other person at this table, and I meant it then as much as I do now. If that should occur, you and I are going to have a problem. Directly. I lead a Guild of Surface Hunters, we are known for neither restraint nor hesitation. You had best be invested in his defense, now, because if he dies you are the first suspect, witnessed by the Guild Leader Marshal of this Hall." I turned to face said Marshal. "Sir, I believe my end of this meeting has gone on for much longer than anticipated. I have no further comments unless you have questions."

Jordan Shapiro breathed out sharply. "I should have suspected that inviting you to this table would result in a shake up. No, I think that is all for this meeting. I will discuss other details with you after this. At length." He looked around the table. "The rest of you are dismissed until the 26th at nine in the morning, for the Expo opening." The others stood and made their way out of the room. Several looked over their shoulders at me, their looks ranging from curiosity to pity to hostility. The door closed, and I was left in the room alone with the man who got entirely more than he bargained for.

"I'm guessing this is not going to be you asking to sign on to the union, sir?"

"The chutzpah on this man!" He shook his head in disbelief. "In case it needs to be said, no, I do not think that would be proper. Now that the other Major Guild Leaders aren't listening, I need to know. Who has signed on?"

I handed over the paper I had been given. "My phone buzzing just before I spoke was Stephen Goa, the Dimensional Magus, officially transferring to Shield's junior ranks. Guild Leader Cartwright no longer has a man on sabbatical. Besides him, I have several Guilds and bands of independents, along with a commitment to spread the word to other states and Halls."

"Stormbreakers, Wild Hunt, Pantheon... Quiverbow? Guild Leader Arden will not enjoy hearing that one. When I sent you to the meeting, this was not my intended outcome. Help me move the tables back while we finish this." We both stood and began to shift the furniture. He focused more on chairs than the tables, but then again I was the one with a Strength score in the mid 20s. "What do you hope to actually accomplish with this gathering?"

"I'm still working on that part. They wanted a seat at the table, which I am giving to them. In return, I want to see us support the Crafters and the Junior Delvers more, along with furthering our knowledge of the Status. Our view is much too fragmented. There is too much we don't know. Speaking of, what exactly is that working that Munin's Wing and Borealis are working on?"

He set his last chair in place. "They hope to exert influence over the Dungeon. All of the portals you have been chasing? They want to either make it so that they stop spawning, or else stay in the vicinity of this Camp."

That was a really big deal if it worked. My life for the last five years had been largely spent mitigating monster escapes. If those were to stop, my people and I would no longer have to worry about civilian deaths any time we made the slightest error. Of course, we'd also be out of a job, but we could go into traditional Delving instead... assuming the Hospital wasn't enough by itself.

Jordan continued onwards after letting me chew on that for a moment. "Walk with me, Jeremiah. Tell me, what are you doing for the rest of today?"

"After this? I'm taking my four Junior Delvers underground on a Trial run. Stephen, Chaske, Misun, and Nathan. They will be escorted by four seniors. Myself, my two physical Strikers, and my Hunter. Not expecting to find anything important, just getting a feel for them."

"Your Hunter? Gloria, was it? The one having a crisis of faith?"

"That is her, but I'm quite sure we didn't tell you that."

"You didn't have to. Pantheon also answers to me... for now, at least. They respect that I kept up with my Rabbinical duties, and they let me know when such things are happening so that they don't reach a breaking point. If you don't mind, I will come with you. At least to the mouth of the Dungeon."

"Far be it for me to tell my Marshal he can't come with us on a Delve without very good reason. My wife will probably send you a thank-you card personally. I expect to be at the Shuttle in about thirty minutes, if that works with you. Some final preparations to make first. A Change break, as it were. Actually, speaking of, do you have the information I asked you for? About my Guild's Races and Classes? More oddities have been cropping up, and I'm trying to get ahead of them."

"I will see you at the Shuttle stop, then. You can get the information from me at the Expo. Your bunch were more obscure than I usually ask about, and there are a large number of disruptions occurring on the East Coast these days that slowed things down further. Especially around the Harvard Dungeon."

"Understood, and thank you." The conversation had lasted barely long enough for us to get out into the sun. There were some few people walking nearby as I took a moment to breathe and stretch out, the warm feeling on my skin. They decided that a detour might be in order, given just exactly who had stepped out. The Marshal and I went our separate ways, my steps carrying me towards the food stalls. It was about that time, so it was where I was most likely to find my group.

On the one hand, I was right. On the other, as I approached the table my Guild was seated at, Whitney stood to intercept me. "Jay, mind walking and talking while you eat?"

It helped that the barbecue sandwich she handed me was one of my camp favorites. I nodded, and we started walking towards Crafter's Row. "Alright. Quiverbow had a couple of weapons she asked us to experiment with. Since the Twins needed an endurance weapon, they have minor laser mounts on all four drones. Not the strongest thing ever, but they recharge themselves off of kinetic energy from moving around. We wanted to see if we could get any armor for Nathan, but it was pointless. Even leather is more effort to wear than it's worth, especially with his Damage Reduction."

I swallowed my current mouthful of food. "That all makes sense, and good initiative. If the weapons work out then I'll send Amber to pay for them. Any reason why we couldn't have this conversation at the table?"

She looked over her shoulder, seeing that the area was clear. In a sudden rush of wind and wing, Whitney went from walking towards the structures ahead to tackling me, carrying me easily as she half-ran half-flew towards the nearby woodline. We were halfway there before my brain caught up to the unexpected motion, and by the time I registered that there was not a threat I could perceive we were into the forest. Just out of line of sight from the Camp, obscured by the largest tree trunk in the area, Whitney was suddenly and forcefully removing both of our pants. "Lucy said it was my turn, and I'm going to enjoy it!"

Okay, so she was in a REAL mood this time. Then again, I was helping her as fast as I could. Half for my own enjoyment, half to make sure she didn't rip my belt or pants off entirely. I wasn't carrying a change. Seconds later, I found myself pushed up against that tree trunk with my penis erect and pointed directly towards the feathered Berserker in front of me, who immediately turned, bent over, and pressed herself onto me. She was wet and eager, spearing herself on me in one long thrust which had the extra effect of making sure I wasn't getting away from the tree. Her enormous Strength meant it was more likely that she'd knock the tree over first. Excellent effectiveness, highly pleasurable, would have been a ten out of ten if I hadn't been scared we were going to get attacked by a forest denizen while my pants were literally around my ankles. Call it a nine and a half.

She did everything in her power to bring both of us off as quickly as possible. I kept my eyes out for anything nasty coming our way, ready to shoot it if need be. Team work. I found the need to stay so alert oddly heightening the sensations, too. Combined with the fact that I wasn't holding back, I was firing off deeply into her in record (for her) time. As I Fed upon her, she gasped in joy and pleasure, cumming right with me as she pressed me against that tree.

The moment was over, and suddenly we were both pulling up our clothes and getting set again. I had unfortunately dropped the remaining half of my sandwich, but all in all it was a fair trade. Whitney was dressed first, having actually expected this. "Good way to get ready, Jay. We should probably get to the Shuttle, the others know to meet us there. Anything we need to know for this run?"

We were walking back. I was hoping they had some more leftovers. "Not too much. We have a decent force. The main team tries to engage as little as possible to let the juniors get some experience being a team, we advise them and jump in if things get hairy. What we are mostly doing is looking for targets of opportunity. Best case, we catch a rare drop or a Key Shard. Not going too deep, maybe a half hour each way."

"Alright, that all makes sense... um. Why does that guy sitting down with Gloria look familiar?"

We had come within sight of the bus stop. It appeared that the Marshal did not believe in waiting, and was already deep in conversation with my Hunter, who in turn was absently petting Nibbles between the ears. Paige had the others separated a bit, talking more animatedly to them. "You saw him the other day, at the Gate."

She tried to stay outwardly calm, and to her credit if I hadn't seen her feathers ruffle slightly... and felt the raw and roiling alarm under the surface... she might have fooled me. "The lightning man? The Marshal?"

"That's him. The man who led the meeting I just got out of before lunch. He wanted to come along with us for a bit."

Whitney did not verbally respond to my words, but reached out to hold my hand. Tightly, which I might add was significantly tighter than most. Her voice was slightly panicky. "Why would he want to do that?"

"I'd think that he has more than one reason for it. You don't get into a position like that by doing one thing at a time, and you don't get as individually powerful as he is by wasting time." Though I tried to sound calm, I was semi-consciously guiding our steps around to the side of the stop where Paige and the others were. It wasn't that the man was hostile, far from it. He was just extremely powerful, and engaged in deep conversation with a member of my team on the edge.

The distraction would not last for long. Paige's Aura was rippling slowly as she went through the junior team's offensive abilities. Whitney trotted over to hop in on the conversation. None of them were dedicated strikers. Batons, bullets, lasers, and mystic bolts are well and good, but given our minimal-intervention policy for this mission they'd have to figure out how to focus their efforts to demolish enemies inbound. Either that or they'd need to know how to keep hostiles off of them until they could finish the job. It would be Nathan's first time Below, but the others hadn't been very many times. Along with everything else, they would need to figure out what their enemies were doing. It was a big ask, and only the fact that we were with them in case anything went wrong made it reasonable at all.

The fact that the Marshal would be there with us this time meant Nathan was probably safer than at school, to be honest.

There was a soft sound, coming from an unfamiliar place. A half-sob, from the normally unflappable Gloria. I looked up, seeing her head hanging low. It seemed like it was time for me to step in. Bidding the others to continue their talk, I stood and walked over to where their conversation was happening. It would hopefully go better than the meeting.