All The Skills - A Deckbuilding LitRPG

Arthur felt like he had been asleep for five seconds before he heard a knock at the door. He woke, bleary and disoriented at his new surroundings. It took him a startlingly long time to remember Kenzie had gotten him a room in the hive.

It was small and by no means fancy. An inner room without a window. He was lucky that it came with a cot to sleep in.

But he had lived in much worse circumstances.

The knock at the door came again, and Arthur peeled his face off his pillow long enough to call out, "Yes? Who is it?"

A rattle of keys was his answer, and Arthur sat up just in time to see an unfamiliar man stride into his room.

He reached for a belt knife that had been attached to his pants… and which lay crumpled on the floor, too far away to easily grab. In his mind, he toggled the option off his nullify card to activate his Return To Start card just in case —

The man bowed.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir. Leaders Valentina and Whitaker request your presence at once."

Arthur gaped. "Of… Of course," he said, finally focusing on the man's uniform and seeing the insignia of a hive attendant.

The crisscrossing tunnels through the levels of the hive were a nightmare to navigate for locals, much less visiting nobility. This man had likely been sent not only as a messenger but as a guide.

"I'll be out in a moment," Arthur said, pointedly.

The man nodded, and with a swift, curious look at Arthur's humble surroundings, he made his way back out and closed the door.

Arthur slumped, mentally reactivating his Nullify card over his trap card. Not that his Return to Start would have done him any good. He hadn't keyed in a new location as an escape point, should the worst happen. So, it would have automatically returned him to the last place he woke up. His bed.

"I have got to be smarter," he muttered to himself. Especially now that the hive leader's eyes were on him.

With that in mind, he dressed quickly in his newest, cleanest clothing. His outfit wasn't comparable to what nobles usually wore. He would have to hope they thought the Kane barony was too poor to support him.

Then he tore a small corner from a spare piece of paper he had been jotting notes on. He once again reached for his Return to Start card.

Arthur mentally selected yes and focused on the small square of paper.

A moment later, a tiny card mark — the image of his Return to Start card, miniaturized to the point most details are lost, appeared on the piece of paper as if inked there.

He slipped it into his pocket. On his way, he intended to drop the tiny corner piece in the tunnel system.

Should the worst happen in the next couple of hours, he would at least give his attacker a surprise.

It would have to do, and he would rekey in a better location as soon as he could. Bob's tavern, perhaps.

When Arthur stepped out of the room, freshly dressed with his hair combed back, the messenger gestured down the tunnel. "This way, sir."

They passed by windows on the long ascent up, and Arthur saw that it was late afternoon, coming into the evening. He had been asleep longer than he thought and blamed the stamina penalty for his fogginess.

That too, was starting to wear off. A quick check showed he was only one point down from his usual base. Which was good because the messenger seemed to be leading him almost up to the top.

Arthur needed every bit of his stamina for the long climb.

Nobles and other people of means paid a dragon rider — usually a purple — to carry them up the slopes if they had to go to a high level.

The man sent to fetch him took Arthur the long way up the flights of stairs. Worse, like everything else in the hive, the way was twisted and meandering. They would take a stairway up and walk a length of tunnels or two until they came to the next stairway to take them to the next level.

Arthur had never been past the seventh level before. At level ten, he no longer walked on the bare floor but thinly carpeted pathways. That carpeting underfoot became newer and thicker as they continued upward.

Soon, he spotted murals painted on the stone walls: Idyllic scenes depicting dragons in flight or mimicking the landscape around the hive in various seasons.

As they went higher those murals were replaced with paintings that could be removed and cleaned.

Furniture was added along the tunnels too, for sitting and relaxing. Windows were cut directly into the rock to give views out in every direction. Doorways led out to grand, sweeping balconies that seemed to extend so close to the clouds he felt he could reach out and touch them.

Delicious smells melted out of the kitchens. Though Arthur thought he ate very well as it was, he was extremely curious to try the dishes of the upper class.

They were so up high that some of the windows sported delicate fractals of ice. Thanks to the fireplaces here and there, Arthur didn’t feel a bit of a chill.

No wonder Kenzie always talked about earning a place at the upper level. They did well for themselves here.

Nevertheless, it was a long, arduous trek. Both he and the messenger sent to retrieve him were both puffing for air by the time they reached their destination.

Arthur was mildly disappointed he didn’t earn a stair-climbing skill.

The messenger led him, finally, to a wide tunnel that ended at wooden double doors. Beyond, he heard raised, annoyed voices.

Another servant cracked the door open at the man’s knock. The two spoke quietly and Arthur heard, “Ernest Kane.”

The second attendant quickly ushered Arthur in.

Valentina and Whitaker stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by a ring of men and women. Half wore black scholar’s robes with the edges trimmed in gold, red, or brown depending on their rank. They all also wore extremely annoyed expressions. He recognized Cressida’s cousin among them.

The other group was dressed in the loose white linen of those with Sickness Seeking and Healing cards. Though the badges on their shoulders displayed various animals. These must be veterinary specialists. Unlike the scowling scholars, they wore professional and expectant looks on their faces.

Valentina broke off from the man talking at her and gestured to Arthur. “Come quickly, boy. We have people here to look over the dragon.”

He had not managed to cross the room before he found himself surrounded by the veterinary staff. Most of whom barked questions about the nature of his storage space, if he had seen any degradation of the dragon’s health, and how long he had kept the dragon in there already.

Arthur finally got a word in to explain the basics of how his storage space worked. Some looked mollified, but not the oldest man who had wild gray hair and a no-nonsense attitude that reminded him of Valentina.

“Well? Remove the dragon. It’s doing no one any good in there.” He shot the leaders an annoyed look. “In fact, I very well think it might be doing the creature worse.”

One of the scholars made a sharp squeak of protest. “Wait, you’re going to have the beast here? Isn’t it scourge-ridden?”

“You can’t do that!” a woman protested, stepping back, alarmed. “What if it infects us?”

“Don’t be a fool,” Whitaker snapped. “No carded person has anything to fear from the scourge.”

“I do if the dragon has turned into a scourgeling!” protested a third scholar. The others murmured in agreement.

Arthur couldn’t keep the derision out of his voice. “That can’t happen.”

“What a thing to say from a supposed man of intellect,” Whitaker scoffed. Behind him, the scholar went purple in anger. “Well? Remove the dragon, boy. Let’s see what we’re dealing with, here.”

But the scholars were not finished. One particularly round man with gold edging to his robes pushed forward. “Gentleman, ladies, if you insist on this foolishness then we shall take ourselves elsewhere.”

Lightning cracked so close to the outside windows that several people flinched.

Valentina spoke in an icy voice. “You will stay. Not only because we require the scholars to give us a working theory of how a dragon could have possibly become infected with the scourge, but your people are our best shot to link the beast.”

The man started to sputter. Valentina only raised her voice to override him. It was easy since she had command of the air. “If it shows no interest in your cards, you are, of course, free to go.”

Arthur decided he had enough sniping between the two groups.

With a thought, he removed the baby dragon from his personal storage space.

It appeared in the same position as when he had stored it, laying limp and flat on the floor. Perhaps it was the light, but the baby dragon looked smaller and paler than before.

Instantly, the healers and sickness seekers surrounded the dragons and began to cast their magics. Several of them murmured chants, others made arcane gestures in the air. Most just stared intently at the dragon as if they were looking inside its body.

Flickering lights played over the little dragon who looked around with dull eyes.

Though he stood back, Arthur watched carefully, too.

His long-neglected Nursing Skill twigged at him. Glancing around, he saw a low table where several pitchers of water had been sent. He went over to pour a cup before returning to kneel by the dragon.

“Excellent thinking,” the gray-haired healer said. “Yes, it does seem to be dehydrated.”

“Among other issues,” a woman murmured under her breath.

Several sickness seekers had broken off and clustered several feet away, talking to each other in low worried voices.

Ignoring them, Arthur offered the cup to the dragon. It flinched back.

“It’s only water,” Arthur said. “It will make you feel better.”

Carefully, he placed the half-tipped cup to the pink snout. The baby dragon swallowed reflexively. Then, once it got a taste, took some more in.

Arthur saw ominous black veins at the base of its throat. Whatever the healers had done, they hadn’t managed to knock it down yet.

In fact, most had stepped away from the dragon and were now gathered around Valentina and Whitaker, speaking in urgent tones.

Whatever was said made Whitaker’s face darken. He looked over to the scholars.

“Line up and present your cards to the dragon.”

The leader puffed up. “How dare you—"

Whitaker gestured and the speaker along with two others was shoved forward and fell onto their knees in front of the dragon.

“I won’t ask again,” Whitaker said.

Arthur didn’t know if there was an age limit to linking with the dragon, though judging by the mutinous but terrified looks it was the card that counted the most.

Still, they were cowed enough to keep quiet and allow the dragon to look them over. Indeed, it seemed briefly interested.

Then its head sank to the floor again. “No.”

The scholars scrambled up much faster than their ages suggested. Whitaker gestured for the others to follow. One by one, the angry-looking scholars trooped past the dragon.

It occasionally twitched in interest, but never for long. After the last scholar, the baby dragon heaved a wheezy sigh. “I’m tired.”

Arthur, who still knelt by its head, looked at the leaders.

Valentina nodded once.

“Let’s try again with a new group,” Arthur suggested. “It will be just a moment.”

Again, the baby dragon sighed but didn’t resist as Arthur placed it back in his storage.

The scholars gusted a breath in relief.

The one in gold had regathered his courage enough to give Whitaker a scathing look. “I’ll have you know I intend to lodge my complaint to the top.”

“Oh yes, the king,” Whitaker said, boredly. “He does have a history with scholars. Tell me, how is the shape of your library, Bartus?”

The man flushed. “I’ll have you know our guild is on the cusp of several important discoveries that will benefit the kingdom. Meanwhile, I hear the king is unhappy with the state of the scourge eruptions. You should look to your own hive.”

“We’re in a difficult cycle, which is why the king will not be happy with an unlinked Rare dragon.”

“One who will likely never fight!” Bartus the scholar roared. “Linking that thing would be a waste of a perfectly good scholar.”

Whitaker looked like he was about to reply with something nasty, but Valentina broke in. “Luckily for us all, the dragon showed no interest in you. Now get out of my sight.”

“With pleasure,” the man snarled. Turning, he gestured to the other scholars. They left, all throwing nasty looks over their shoulders at the hive leaders.

Arthur, meanwhile, took the opportunity to touch on his Stealth skill to stay quiet and unobtrusive. This was a potential gold mine of information, and he didn’t want to risk being kicked out, too.

The moment the last scholar was gone, Whitaker turned to the healer.

“Well? What is your diagnosis?”

Several glanced at each other as if daring the other to speak. It was the gray-haired man who piped up.

“It’s our general opinion that its core card isn’t fully formed. That is a risk with premature hatchings.”

It took a beat for that to sink in.

Valentina groaned, head falling into her hands. Whitaker, however, looked angry.

“Premature? It was cracking shell!”

Several of the healers exchanged uncomfortable looks.

A young woman spoke up, delicately, “It may have been less of a crack and more of a… break.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Valentina asked.

“Scourge corruption could have caused the shell to become brittle, so it broke early,” said the gray-haired man. “The dragon was very close to hatching, so it looks formed on the outside, but on the inside… her lungs and heart are struggling to support the rest of its body. We don’t see this often with dragons because the nature of cards overwrites defects. Frankly,” he continued, “the dragon needs a full card. Historically, linking has been known to… to fill in the gaps, as it were. Only then would it be strong enough to fight the corruption.”

“And you can’t?” Whitaker demanded.

The man spread his hands. “We are Uncommon and Common. Not a Rare between us, and for scourge to take hold…” he hesitated, “Sir, unless that poor dragon links up soon, it will need a Legendary rank healer to have a chance.”

“You’re saying I need to apply to the palace?” Whitaker growled. “Do you know the crap storm that will bring down on us?”

“I’m a healer, sir. Not a politician.”

Valentina spoke up. “I notice you’ve neatly danced around how a dragon tucked safely in the middle of a hive managed to catch scourge corruption in the first place.”

“Scourge-born diseases often target the weak and sick first.”

She frowned. “Yes, but there’s been no indication of any scourge-born disease in or around our hive. No eruptions nearby, and certainly no trips to the borderland.”

Arthur’s heart felt like it froze in his chest.

He had been to the borderland a few weeks ago. And the children he’d brought to the orphanage had lived there for years.

Had he brought sickness into the hive?