Fall of a Dungeon House: A litRPG

Story (City of Masks Book 1) John

Stovall
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 Fall of a
Dungeon House

By
John Stovall
CITY OF MASKS #1
 Published by
CS BOOKS, LLC

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales,
is entirely fictional

Fall of a Dungeon House

Copyright © 2021 Capital Station Books
All rights reserved.

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution

via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to
criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. No part
of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical
means, including information storage and retrieval system, without written
permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book
review, and where permitted by law.

Cover Design: Darko Paganus

Editors: Amy McNulty, Nia Quinn

IF YOU WANT TO BE NOTIFIED WHEN JOHN STOVALL’S NEXT

BOOK RELEASES, PLEASE CONTACT HIM DIRECTLY AT

john.w.stovall@gmail.com

ISBN: 978-1-7379416-6-8
 Dedication

First and foremost, always, to my wife Shami Stovall.

She taught me to write, she taught me to publish, and she has made
my life easier and more wonderful in all ways. Without you, there is
nothing. With you, I have everything.
Secondly, to Dana Ardis, who has spent more time editing this book
than anyone, and is a good friend to boot.
Thirdly, to the other members of my writers group. To Mary, Emily,
and James, thank you for the efforts you put into this as well.
Fourth, to my parents, John and Gail Stovall. Your support
throughout my life has been over the top, and you are the perfect
parents everyone else wished they had.
Fifth, to my editors Nia Quinn and Amy Mcnulty. Thanks for doing
this, I know I don’t make it easy.
Lastly, I’d like to thank John McLaughlin. I barely know Mr.
McLaughlin, but he is one of about four fans that have ever reached
out to me. However, some days are truly, mind-blowingly hard, and
probably the worst day of my career, when I very seriously
considered abandoning this book, he reached out to me to tell me he
liked the portion he’d seen and wanted to read the rest. Such a small
thing, yet it has made all the difference, and to a large degree that
simple act of kindness is why everyone else can read this book now.
Genuinely, sir, thank you.
 Contents

Fall of a Dungeon House

Prologue
Chapter One
The Three Davids
Chapter Two
Additional Dramatis Personae
Chapter Three
A Truly Inciting Incident
Chapter Four
The Girl Who Turned Right Instead of Left
Chapter Five
Overly Humble Beginnings of a New Life
Chapter Six
A Peaceful Interlude
Chapter Seven
That First Trickle of Blood That Might Become a River
Chapter Eight
A Wonderful Day with New Companions
Chapter Nine
A New Face
Chapter Ten
Edging Toward Betrayal
Chapter Eleven
Loot Is the Real Reason to Be an Adventurer
Chapter Twelve
A Burgeoning Criminal Empire
Chapter Thirteen
A Diamond in the Really Rough
Chapter Fourteen
Dual-Purpose Slaughter
Chapter Fifteen
Discussions
Chapter Sixteen
The House of the Verdant Cavern
Chapter Seventeen
Base Building
Chapter Eighteen
The First Name on the List
Chapter Nineteen
Anger Is Better Than Sadness
Chapter Twenty
The Bitch Came Back the Very Next Day
Chapter Twenty-One
The Dungeon of Glorious Dreams
Chapter Twenty-Two
Choices
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Winnowing
Chapter Twenty-Four
Fallout
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Man Who Went Right Instead of Left
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Long Ride
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Second Name on the List
Appendix and Glossary
Dungeon House Terms
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
l
 Prologue
The Price of Honor

I
’ve never killed a kid before.
It was a dark and stormy night—cliché for this type of thing,
Adam supposed—and the leaders of the city’s crime syndicates
were meeting in an old mansion owned by one of the bosses. They
had all gathered in a grand ballroom, twenty enforcer thugs and four
syndicate leaders. The cold wind shook the windows, and the panes
ran with water from the freezing rain outside. The thugs clumped
together a little more tightly as the chill penetrated the room, even
with so many bodies adding warmth.
By the good gods, I’ve fallen so far, Adam thought. He’d gone from
being a mercenary sergeant of twenty years, fighting the good fight,
to working as an enforcer for one of the Norhilm gangs.
Adam glanced around at his fellow goons. There were members
from all four of the main crime factions here, judging by their distinct
masks. There were also a few people from smaller factions he didn’t
know, all in masks he didn’t recognize. Not real masks, like a
dungeon family, of course, but everyone in this city copied the style
of those magical masks to declare their allegiances.
But the four main gangs Adam recognized. In Norhilm, everyone
recognized them—Norhilm was the kind of city where you needed to
know the crime factions, for your own health.
Adam had recently returned to Norhilm, which everyone just called
‘The City,’ and he had joined the Golden Peacocks. The Golden
Peacocks distinguished themselves with gold-colored masks carved
to resemble a bird’s face. Metallic peacock feathers adorned the tops
of the masks.
Even Adam wore the gaudy mask to symbolize his allegiance. He
shifted it around his face, hating the weight of the metallic feathers.
Adam’s mercenary gang had worn a different kind of mask—
something more efficient. Everyone in Norhilm wore masks—they
didn’t also call it the ‘City of Masks’ for nothing. Everyone.
The Golden Peacocks ran the prostitution services in the city,
including a lot of the legitimate slave brothels. Adam knew they even
captured and sold free citizens.
Disgusting.
But it paid the bills. And since the mercenary crew Adam had run
with had kicked him out… There weren’t many other ways to come
across the coin he needed.
The four leaders sat at a central table. A fifth chair stood empty.
Felix de Viennois, once a member of the de Viennois dungeon
family, was the leader of the Golden Peacocks, and his fat ass sat
near the middle of the table, where he could rest his elbows and the
upper half of his massive body weight. Felix’s right-hand enforcer,
Dimitri—that black-hearted bastard—stood just behind Felix’s chair.
And Felix was absolutely huge, both in terms of weight and height.
He was six and a half feet tall, and if he hadn’t been sitting, he
would’ve been the tallest man in the room. Adam had heard Felix
had been caught messing around with underage girls, which was
why Felix had been thrown from his house. Felix was the only one
sweating in this cold ballroom, droplets running down from his bald
head into the massive furred robe he wore.
Dimitri was also very tall, but unlike Felix, he was built of solid
muscle and had both a head of hair and a mustache. He wasn’t
wearing a shirt, his tattooed chest exposed. The tattoo was a
woman’s face, weeping pink tears. Adam had heard all sorts of
rumors about why Dimitri kept adding tears. Adam didn’t care for the
details. Each rumor was more disturbing than the last.
The largest gang in the room wore purple masks carved to look
like octopi, with wooden tentacles going back around the head to just
past the temples. They were the Xeril Night, a group of Abomination
worshippers that ran much of the human trafficking and kidnapping
rackets in the city. They also operated illegal magic services based
on death energy, including illegal leveling practices to support other
criminal gangs.
 They were the most reviled gang in the city, since they captured
anyone they could get away with taking in order to make ‘dungeons’
for people to level in. Not a real dungeon, with a magical core that
created rooms and monsters, but a fake dungeon for weaker nobles
who wanted to pay for a ‘safe’ experience through a limited dungeon
of lackeys. Death energy was required to level, and killing off
kidnapped street rats was the main selling point of the counterfeit
dungeons. Without access to real dungeons and their regenerating
monsters, this was the next best thing for leveling up. It was also
heinous and disgusting as far as Adam was concerned.
The leader of the Xeril Night was tall, but he was stick-thin, like a
streetlamp. His mask covered his face, but long, greasy black hair
fell down his back, and scars crisscrossed his arms, which were
uncovered in his long, sleeveless coat. He was called ‘The
Harbinger,’ but Adam didn’t know his real name.
The third criminal group, the Sunda Gang, wore orange-and-red
tiger masks. Their leader, Khan, was neither stick-thin nor overly fat
but rather covered in lean muscle, his pale-white skin marked with
tribal tattoos. It was almost certain he was a foreigner, given his
complexion and markings, but Adam didn’t know the truth of it.
Khan’s enforcer seemed more interesting than the leader. He was
a thin elf, with pale skin and long, golden hair. The elf had two long
daggers at his side and numerous throwing daggers around his
person, as well as a wrist crossbow. Adam didn’t know who the
enforcer was, but the elf moved with a deadly grace.
The last gang represented, and the one that most surprised Adam,
was the Nine Sails. They were smugglers and fences and were
widely regarded as honorable—some called them ‘gentleman
thieves.’ Their masks were unpainted driftwood carved to look like
stylized sharks.
The Nine Sails were run by Leopoldo.
Leopoldo had his mask up on top of his head, exposing his face,
and was a mere five feet ten inches tall, short compared to those at
the table. He had an easy demeanor, rakish, and was a very
handsome man, even if he was into his fifties. He wore his salt-and-
pepper hair in a ponytail and had a neatly trimmed goatee. His
perfectly tailored clothing, doublet and breeches with lace at the
wrists and neck, suggested he had a noble background.
His top enforcer was an extremely broad dwarf by the name of
Tharkin Ironbeard, which Adam thought had to be the most dwarven
name ever. The dwarf wore a ridiculous amount of leather clothing
and had a bandolier with a brace of the new pistols in it.
The doors to the ballroom pushed open, and a man strode in.
He stood almost seven feet tall—even taller than the fatass, Felix
—and his arms and hands were weathered but still showed great
muscle. The man’s salt-and-pepper black hair was cut close to his
scalp, an interesting decision that marked him as different. He wore
a metallic red mask, with pins pushed into it, weeping enamel blood.
The man, alone, wasn’t wearing a cloak or coat to keep the cold
out, and his bare arms didn’t even show goose bumps despite his
rain-dampened clothing. He wore plain clothes, breeches and a shirt,
and had a bag tied to the equally plain belt he wore.
Well, we have a Peacock, an Octopus, a Tiger, a Shark, and now
we’ve added a Bloodmask. Fantastic.
Adam used one of his abilities, a power called Thief’s Eyes, to try
to see Bloodmask’s status sheet.

Thief’s Eyes used on unknown target. 2 essence expended. Unknown

target is immune to divination effects of this level.

Adam cursed to himself as the power failed. Then he felt the blood
drain from his face when the man in the bloodmask turned toward
him. A pair of intense, gray eyes stared at Adam through the small
slits of the mask.
The man’s eyes briefly went red, and Adam felt magic pulse
through him, although he couldn’t tell which ability was used. The
man pointed at Adam and shook his head ‘no.’ The other gangsters
surreptitiously moved away from Adam. Fortunately, Bloodmask
turned back toward the main table.
He must be very high level. Most people can’t detect Thief’s Eyes.
 Bloodmask pulled a chair out from under the head of the central
table and sat down, the chair creaking under his weight. He sat
forward, his hands resting on the table, and he glanced around at the
other four faces.
It was subtle—a tilt of the eyes away, a sudden shifting in the chair,
an adjustment of a mask—but Adam could tell these people, the
criminal lords of the city, were afraid of Bloodmask. The sudden quiet
in the room also told Adam that the other gangsters noticed it as
well.
“We will destroy the Toledos during the Ascension Festival for
David the Fifth,” Bloodmask stated, his voice gravelly and half-
muffled by the mask. Despite that, everyone in the grand ballroom
heard the statement. It was as clear as blood on white linen.
The Ascension Festival is only three days away. Which means
that’s three days till I have to kill a kid. Abominations take me.
A thug wearing a tiger mask shouted, “You mean the Ascension
Festival for David the Wussy.”
There was crude laughter around the room.
Felix leaned more of his considerable weight onto the poor table.
“Wait.” When the laughter continued, Felix slammed a hand on the
table’s surface. “I said, wait.” All sound instantly died out. “What’re
we gonna do about David the Leviathan?”
Adam shifted nervously.
David Toledo the Fourth—‘the Leviathan’—was a legend in The
City. Son of the founder of the dungeon house, he’d lived for over a
hundred years, the power of his magic sustaining him long past what
would have been normal. He was rumored to be over Level Fifty,
something unheard of, and had supposedly run all seven of The
City’s dungeons until he’d found the boss monsters of each, then
defeated the monsters, just to prove to the other houses that he
could. Everyone just called him ‘Leviathan’ because he was powerful
and his dungeon had a water theme.
“Fool,” came Bloodmask’s disdain-filled comment, and he grabbed
the bag at his waist, ripped it free from the belt, and tossed it onto
the table. A head rolled out, and Adam caught the stench of decay.
The head had black hair and green eyes. Distinct. Noticeable.
 David the Leviathan.
The silence was almost overwhelming. The only thing Adam heard
for a moment was the beating of his own heart in his ears.
Bloodmask rotated a shoulder. “I just said it was David the Fifth’s
Ascension Festival. He’s ascending to the position of Dungeon Lord,
something that can only happen when the previous Dungeon Lord
dies!” Bloodmask snarled. “Try not to be a complete idiot. ‘Leviathan’
is no more.”
Felix nodded to Bloodmask’s comments, even though Adam knew
he wouldn’t have taken that from anyone else. Who is this
Bloodmask guy that he can command such fear from these
extremely dangerous men?
Although, if Bloodmask killed Leviathan or commanded it be done,
I suppose that makes sense.
Bloodmask raised his hand, and everyone quieted. “As I said, we
will attack the Toledo Compound during the ceremony and destroy
their house. David must die, and it’s imperative that his children die
as well. I’ve assigned each of you jobs, and I expect them to be
carried out.”
Adam fidgeted with the cuffs of his coat.
Felix had assigned Adam the ‘honorable’ duty of killing James
Toledo, third son of David the Fifth—Felix wasn’t the type to get his
hands dirty anymore. Adam had been delegated the task of child
murder, and it ate away at his thoughts.
Bloodmask pointed at the other four leaders. “Make those brats
suffer. Then behead them. I want to hear their screams filling the
night.”
The sadistic statement bothered Adam at a deep level.
“Do we really need to make the kids suffer?” Adam asked before
he even gave the statement any thought.
Felix glanced over at him. “Adam, the ‘kid’—James—is nineteen.
I’m sure you can handle it.”
“Is this the enforcer you assigned the job of killing James Toledo?”
Bloodmask asked, standing from his chair and taking a few steps
toward Adam. “Who is he?”
 The gangsters in the room all moved away from Adam as
Bloodmask approached him.
“He’s a veteran soldier, milord, Level Ten and very talented,” Felix
said, taking out a lace handkerchief and mopping at his brow despite
the chill in the room. “And an Entropy user. He just joined us, but I
know Adam can handle the job.”
“Interesting,” Bloodmask said, focused fully on Adam. “Now that
Leviathan is dead, David the Fifth and his children need to be
eliminated before the dungeon can be claimed by someone else.
Me.”
The Toledo family has done well and justly by the Vered Empire, at
least compared to most of the noble houses, especially The City
ones…
“I can see indecision written in your body, veteran,” Bloodmask
said, looking at him. “Do you have a comment?”
Adam hesitated. I was honorable, once, before gambling, lust, and
foolishness drove me to this point. I should at least try to avoid this
final fall to the Abominations…
“The Toledo family isn’t that bad, as nobles go. Perhaps—”
There was a blur of movement, and Adam found himself lifted off
his feet by the arm stuck through his chest, looking down into
Bloodmask’s eyes, and everything was wrong, and the light was
fading. There was a hatred in those eyes, which bored into his.
Adam couldn’t say anything, couldn’t move, could barely think
anything other than a hazy I’m dying.
Bloodmask held Adam’s gaze. “That was the last straw. I have
other agents who can handle killing James Toledo for me. The
Toledos will die on the night of David’s Ascension. They will suffer. I’ll
make sure of it.”
He flung his arm to the side, and Adam flew into the wall opposite
the table, hearing the faint cheers at Bloodmask’s pronouncement.
Blackness.
***
Elsewhere, a goddess desperately tried to change the probable
outcomes in her part of the world. The last cataclysm had required
direct intervention, and far too much power expenditure, from the
gods of the Light, and she and her fellow gods hadn’t recovered yet.
The Dark was winning, their gods and goddesses having planned
better, it seemed.
Like most gods, she could see the strands of what the mortals
called ‘fate’—but really, it was just probability. She had chosen eight
champions and spent small amounts of power to subtly give them
some chance of success, all around the territory she was
responsible for. A mere eight champions, and one left to choose, to
keep the darkness from falling on the territory she was supposed to
protect: the nine continents of the Endless Ocean.
She was about to choose her ninth—and last—champion, when
she felt the change. A low-order probability event had occurred… A
soldier who had fallen to evil and then decided to try to redeem
himself. But he’d died in the process. But the death of the fallen
mercenary, Adam, meant that rather than a competent warrior trying
to kill someone, a reluctant student would be doing it instead.
This unlikely path had left an opening for the target to survive…
one that her enemy likely hadn’t anticipated. It was a long shot, and
the goddess seriously considered whether she would even want that
young man—James Toledo—as her champion. The Dark called to
him as well, and his soul balanced between good and evil, although
he didn’t know it yet.
But the goddess was desperate, and the boy was her previous
defeated champion’s grandson. The Leviathan had come close,
closer than any of her other champions, and his grandson might
have the same potential. And perhaps even gods could feel
nostalgia.
She looked at fate, seeing the paths that were most likely,
combinations that might give her what she needed to stave off utter
disaster. A path that might work, and might pass beneath the notice
of the enemy, at least until her new champion could fight for himself,
was hard to find. She looked and finally saw a path that might work.
 With the last of her power, she altered the strands of fate, just two
small changes.
First, a pen’s position subtly shifted so the flailing of a young
woman would knock it under the foot of her abuser. Second, an
emaciated but ambitious street urchin, with unusual potential, would
choose to turn right instead of left, going down a different street than
she normally would, running into the goddess’s chosen champion.
I’ve done all I can for this champion. The odds James survives
even a couple years are extremely low, but maybe, just maybe, this
one can do what’s needed and save us all.
h
 Chapter One
The Three Davids

T
he sound of music and merriment from the West Ballroom
grated on James’s nerves, like a sword scraping along rocks.
I know it’s Dad’s Ascension Festival, but this is also
Granddad’s funeral! He was ‘Leviathan,’ for the good gods’ sakes—
they could show some proper respect!
Sadness threatened to overwhelm him, but James pushed it away.
You hadn’t seen him for two years, James, he told himself. Does him
being dead really change that much?
But he didn’t believe it, and his mind kept going back to all the time
they’d spent together. James remembered Granddad helping him
bandage a slashed knee as a child and telling him to be strong
before the healers had come. He remembered going over maps of
his adventures in his granddad’s study, learning politics and the
theory of magic across Granddad’s large desk. The sword lessons,
over and over.
His granddad had had over fifty living grandchildren, but James
had always been his favorite.
And Granddad had always been James’s favorite.
Tears came to James’s eyes and he wiped them away. I can’t cry. I
still need to talk to Anna later when she comes over.
That was a mystery as well. His girlfriend, the beautiful and
talented Anna—Annette de Viennois, technically—had been missing
from everything for weeks. She hadn’t been at the parties of the
dungeon families, she hadn’t been attending her classes at
Highcastle Academy, and she hadn’t responded to his summons
beyond begging off seeing him.
The disrespectful merriment coming from the ballroom continued.
James was antsy and irritated and hungry, since in the excitement,
he’d forgotten to eat again. He walked over to the window of his
second-story room, opening it and letting the air in. The chill winter
air swept inside, carrying a bit of the rain. It wasn’t cold enough to
snow, and the rain was unusually annoying.
James gazed out at the fancy gardens of the Toledo Estate
through the rain. The statues of dolphins and fish that graced the
garden—symbols of his family’s dungeon—normally soothed him,
but somehow, even those seemed frivolous and stupid on this
terrible night. James leaned out, his hands on the foot-wide ledge
that ran around the house’s second story, and looked down at the
thick bushes beneath his window.
What am I even doing? James shut the window and backed away
from the cold and dark outside, toward the toasty center of his room.
A heavy knocking came at his door.
That can’t be Anna. Her knocks are far daintier.
James opened the door, only to be confronted by his older brother,
Damien, a near match for James in appearance. Damien had the
same six feet and three inches in height, black hair, and green eyes
that James sported, although he was a bit less muscled than James,
and a tad flabby.
Damien also wore the same outfit as James, the formal apparel of
the Toledo family. It was a dark blue doublet with lace at the cuffs
and neck and a similarly dark blue pair of breeches. For some
reason, Damien didn’t have his family mask on, however, or even at
his belt. James, by contrast, still wore his Highcastle trainee belt and
had his family mask hanging from it, which was a dark blue and
wooden. The mask was carved to resemble waves and included a
sea serpent around three-fourths of it. Thinking of the strange
absence of Damien’s mask, James touched his own mask. James
felt the comforting pulse of compatible magic from it.
Damien was usually quite agreeable, closer in personality to their
mutual older brother, David the Sixth.
But right now, his brother’s brow was furrowed, and his face
twisted in a scowl.
“What’s up?” James asked.
Damien just glowered at him. “Dad wants to see you in his study.”
“You mean Granddad’s study?”
 “Dad’s now, James,” Damien said with a sneer. “Get used to it.”
“All right, no big deal.” James took a deep breath as his eyes
misted a bit. “By the way, you, um, doing okay? You’ve been weird
lately.”
“What are you, my girlfriend?” Damien said, narrowing his eyes.
“Why do you care whether or not I’m doing okay?”
“Well, I’m your brother, so I thought that was reason enough. Plus,
you’re normally a cool guy. We’ve had a lot of good times. But lately,
you’ve been a bit of a prick.” James smoothed his hair back, anger
starting to rise.
“You look fine. I’m sure Anna can’t wait to hike her skirt up for you,”
Damien said, his face returning to a half-sneer.
Fine, we’ll ignore your feelings, then, jackass.
“Hey, bite your tongue,” James said, forcing a laugh. “That’s my
girlfriend you’re talking about.”
Damien gave a single bark of a laugh and raised an eyebrow at
James. “Uh-huh. For now, she is. Well, hurry up and go see Dad,
little brother. I want to go see whom I can convince to hike their skirts
up for me.”
Damien waved him down the hall and then strode off toward the
ballroom.
James went in the other direction down the hall, so distracted by
his thoughts, he bumped into one of the family busts that adorned
the hall, almost knocking it off its stand but catching it as it tipped
over. I wonder what Dad wants? he thought, carefully placing the
marble bust of Hilda Toledo, his great-aunt, back on the stand that
had her adventuring deeds carved in it. I’m not gonna mess up his
ceremony or anything. Sheesh.
Worried that Anna might show up while he was gone, James
hurried down the hallway, focusing to make sure he didn’t knock any
other busts over. He reached the large, wooden double doors,
carved with sailing scenes and sea serpents, and pulled one open.
The study held over four thousand tomes and scrolls. On one wall
was a large window overlooking the gardens. A huge desk
dominated the center—a desk large enough to have three to four
people working at it. Currently, it had just James’s dad and oldest
brother, David the Fifth and David the Sixth respectively, resting in
chairs in front of it.
But the thing that caught James’s attention was the lack of clutter
on the desk. James knew that his grandfather had liked to spread
maps out on it, and he’d had numerous objects that James had
never understood on it most of the time as well.
Years ago, there had been an absolutely huge glass globe that
had purple sparkles at random points on it, including one in Norhilm.
Most of the globe had been blank but for the tiny segment with the
nine continents known to the empire, of course, since no one had
sailed the Endless Ocean and lived to tell of it. Despite that, there
had still been purple sparkles at random points on the blank surfaces
of the remainder of it. There had also been a massive tome with a
glowing slug creature on the cover. The slug creature had glowed
with a slight pinkish light. It had creeped James out.
At the age of ten, James had asked his grandfather why he hadn’t
had more things like magic swords and famous armor to celebrate
his many victories in battle.
“Power matters a great deal,” his grandfather had said, putting his
hand on James’s shoulder. “Power is the ability to shape the future
as you desire—in my case, and I hope one day yours, a future that
will be good for all the people of the Vered Empire. But wishing for
the trappings of power, without the substance, is a hideous path. A
magic sword adds to my power in the hands of a loyal retainer, but it
adds nothing to my power on the wall.”
“So you should never show off?” James had asked.
“There are times and places,” his grandfather had answered. “Most
of them for people who have trouble judging your power. A throne
room for the populace who might see you occasionally, a diplomatic
reception hall for foreigners of importance who aren’t familiar with
me, or perhaps a parade for the commoners. But in this room, my
study, I only see family members, my closest retainers, and other
Dungeon Lords. Two are on my side, and the third would consider
the display tiresome and evidence of weakness.”
Granddad had smiled, a hard smile, different than his usual one.
“The only real beneficiary would be my own ego. What I have here,
now, on this desk”—his grandfather had waved his hands at the
globe, the book, and a few maps—“benefits my knowledge—far
more important.”
That had been a long time ago.
Right now, all of Granddad’s things were pushed into the corners
of the room. Only three things were on the desk. Two were volumes
of his grandfather’s journals, which James had never read so much
as a page of, to his disappointment. The third was a small, steel
chest that glowed with runes James recognized. They were runes to
prevent opening by anyone other than a dungeon-descended family
member. He’d seen them on a few family vaults in other castles and
mansions as well.
“Hey, little brother,” said James’s oldest brother. “You look a bit out
of it.”
James looked at his brother, David, heir to the family and the
dungeon. He’d almost forgotten that David was there. David sat in
the chair, relaxed and confident, one leg crossed over the other. He,
too, was wearing a doublet and breeches in Toledo sapphire, and his
own six-foot-four height topped James. He had an easy smile that
always made James relax.
His father got up and stood slightly behind David, one hand on the
side of his chair.
His father had managed to move without making a noise, which
was true for most situations—his father was simply easy to overlook.
James’s dad had a slightly hunched posture, only stood about five
and a half feet tall, even when standing straight, and seemed to
shrink away from attention and bolt from loud noises. He also wore
the family’s colors, but he had a looser-fitting robe and picked at it
nervously.
James knew something had happened to his father when his
father had been a child, although the details had never been made
clear to him. All he knew was that his father was a shadow of a man
when compared to Granddad—the Leviathan.
Fortunately for the family, David the Sixth seemed destined to take
after ‘Leviathan’ and not his dad.
 Privately, James was amazed his mom had gone through with the
marriage to his father. She spent most of her time at her original
family’s estate and only visited her family occasionally. That made it
even more impressive that they’d managed to conceive four children.
Some thought James’s mother had been cheating, but the perks of
each of the children didn’t lie—each child was a potential Dungeon
Lord. Although his parents had taken their sweet time about having
children, James had numerous cousins older than him, from his
dad’s younger brothers, who were far more prolific.
Of course, only James’s brother, David, would become an actual
Dungeon Lord, since the title and powers of Dungeon Lord passed in
a family line, to the currently oldest living child of the previous Lord.
“Hey, um, David, Dad, what’s going on?” James asked, moving
into the room and taking one of the other chairs around the desk. I
hope this doesn’t take too long. Anna could be here at any moment.
“I’ve… a lot to tell you, son,” his dad said slowly.
Curse it!
“About what, Dad?” James asked.
“About… a lot. But I guess I should start with the most basic. I’m
not going to ascend to the head of the house today. I’m going to
pass the leadership of the house to your brother, David the Sixth.”
James straightened. By the good gods!
“What? Why?” he asked. “No offense, David. I know you’ll make a
great leader.”
“I get it,” his brother said, giving a huge laugh. “I’m not offended—
that was my own reaction when he told me a few minutes ago.”
It’s not funny! “I mean, what about my children, Dad? I know you
can’t be the leader forever, but if I have children first, they’ll still be
dungeon descended, but if you pass it to David now, that won’t
happen. Also, can you pass it? I thought if you died, then your oldest
child with the Dungeon Lord perk got it.”
Dad picked at his robe and then reached down and subtly adjusted
the position of one journal on the table. “That won’t, um, won’t be a
problem. I can go to the dungeon heart and abandon my claim there.
Then the dungeon will treat me as if I had died. Also, the child thing
won’t be a problem for you. That brings me to the second part of the
discussion, I guess. You know your granddad was killed, right?”
“Why are you bringing up what happened to Granddad?” James
yelled, standing from his chair. “Yeah, of course I know Granddad
was killed… No one ever explained, really, how he died. But it was
pretty obvious.”
“Well, your granddad was, um, he was working on stuff,” his dad
said. “He was on his way home from his most, um, important
mission, when he was assassinated.”
“Assassinated?” James reiterated, surprised. “I assumed some
crazy monster had finally gotten him.” Why would someone want to
kill Leviathan?
“Yeah,” his dad answered, still fiddling with the journal. “He was
killed because of what he was doing. He was working to oppose the
Abominations and the Dark. A horrible thing—most of the attackers
were spawn, powerful spawn. And a woman was leading them.
Uncle Benjamin was seriously wounded, and only through pure
chance did your Uncle Luke walk in at the right moment to fight off
the wounded attackers and save your granddad’s journals. We’re
having a, um, closed casket ceremony because the spawn stole
granddad’s head.”
Dad’s hand shook, but he took a deep breath and calmed himself.
“But your granddad was specifically, um, trying to, um, make a
second house for us—well, the biggest thing he was doing was, um,
getting stuff ready for you, James. He wanted you to be the, um,
‘true heir’ to the house.”
“Which means?” James asked, his irritation fading beneath his
confused horror. “I mean, David is inheriting the Dungeon Lord
position—and early, to boot. A lot of what you just said was
confusing.”
“Um, well, I just mean that your granddad found another dungeon
core, and he meant you to have it.”
James felt like his heart had missed a beat. “What?”
His dad reached over and touched the rune-covered chest, which
glowed slightly and then opened up. Inside was a perfect crystal
dodecahedron that glowed with a slight turquoise light.
 James leaned over the desk and gazed at the gem longingly. “I
thought dungeon cores glowed with a white light?”
David laughed again, and now James understood why everything
was funny. I’m making out like a bandit on this, even if I wish they
wouldn’t talk about Granddad’s death so much. If this is a dungeon
core, I get to be an actual Dungeon Lord, not just dungeon
descended.
Anna’s gonna be so impressed.
David stood from his chair and leaned over the desk as well,
staring at the gem. “You’re going to be doing even better than me,
brother. That’s a Tier-2 Dungeon Core—something I didn’t even
know existed before a few hours ago.”
“Why me?” James asked, still a bit confused but with wild, rising
jubilation. “Why not Damien? He’s next in line.”
His dad joined them all in staring at the core. “Your granddad
wanted to make the perfect house, powerful enough to change fate
and stop what he thought was coming. First, he hunted for a core—a
prize claimed only about every fifty years by anyone in the entire
Empire of Vered. But he found this, an advanced core, first of its kind
to our knowledge, instead. But when you were born, and he learned
of your unique Overlord perk, he hatched a modified plan. That was
two-thirds of the puzzle, the puzzle to make you the greatest
Dungeon Lord alive.”
Now I know why I was Granddad’s favorite. Although I’m pretty
positive he had real affection for me as well.
“I’m going to be the most powerful Dungeon Lord,” James said, his
voice and the room feeling distant as his imagination raced with all
the possibilities, the future glory. He reached into the chest to take
the gem and claim his destiny.
h
 Chapter Two
Additional Dramatis Personae

D
avid grabbed James’s hand. “Hey, don’t fuck it all up now,
My-All-Powerful-Dungeon-Lord. Dad said two-thirds of the
puzzle—we still need a dungeon boss for it, or it’ll absorb
the nearest monster that qualifies and be extremely weak.”
James took his hand back, his cheeks heating. Of course.
“Right, yeah, sorry,” James said. “Did Granddad, by any chance,
take care of that as well?”
“Almost,” David said. Then his voice got faux serious, and he
straightened to his full height and looked downward at James. “But
you’re not having greatness completely served up on a platter for
you, brother. You’ll have to work for it a bit, apparently. So very
tragic.”
James hit him on the arm, and David fell back into his chair,
pretending to be wounded and then laughing.
“Prick,” James said.
“Quit fooling around, boys. We’ve got, um, things to do,” Dad said.
“Our guests are, um, waiting for us.”
A tremor went through James’s dad, and he fiddled with the journal
again, but he kept speaking. “Your grandad decided to go, well, um,
insane, in my opinion, when he went questing for a high-quality boss
monster. He found an Abomination slowly dying over the centuries
since the last cataclysm, and he made a deal. It agreed to become
the boss monster of the dungeon, here in Norhilm. But the
Abomination is still on the continent of Nazgrin, near the village of
Jalto. All that’s left to happen is for you to meet it, to finalize the deal
with it, and then we have to transport it back.”
James was shocked. An Abomination?! “I thought Granddad was
fighting against the Abominations… Why ally with one?”
 Abominations were the greatest agents of the Dark, the physical
forms of evil. They’d been responsible for the last cataclysm of the
world. Many of the Abominations had perished in the final wars of
that last cataclysm, but many remained, wounded but nearly
indestructible, in the deep or forgotten places of the earth.
“As the master of the dungeon, you’d control its powers,” Dad said.
“Use the Abomination’s powers against the servants of the Dark.”
“Theoretically,” came David’s aside.
“Right, well, um, the point is, after the ceremony, we need to plan
an expedition to recover the Abomination and bring it to The City,
and you need to make a dungeon.”
“And get a new mask and color scheme, brother,” David said. “It’s
a shame, since blue suits you.”
“And you’re okay with this?” James asked, turning to David.
“Yeah,” David said, his smile coming easily to his face. “I’ll help get
you established, and some members of the house will join you to
give you a foundation. Trust me.”
“What about Damien though? Is he going to be okay with this?”
James liked Damien and was worried how he’d react to this. He’s a
lot of fun, I remember years of playing ‘Clear the Dungeon’ with him
as children.
“It has to be you,” Dad said. “Your granddad was originally going to
give it to your uncle Luke, if it doesn’t go to you it goes to him.”
James nodded. I’m going to be a Dungeon Lord and found a new
house! This can’t actually be true.
A couple of times, James had fantasized about his older brothers
being killed in some freak accident so he could be the Dungeon
Lord… and now he was going to get to be one without anyone
having to be hurt!
Life is too good!
“Well, um, take the journals and go study them,” Dad said.
“Granddad laid it all out in them. All the reasons he was doing this,
his journey, all of it.”
“You mind if I take the first journal and read it?” David asked. “This
is all new to me frankly, so I’d like to know why as well.”
 James turned to Dad. “You did say earlier that the second journal
had everything about the Abomination, right?”
Dad nodded. “Yes, that makes sense. David, you take the first one.
James, you take the second.”
James reached for the journal, then hesitated. “Dad, why didn’t I
know any of this?”
Dad hesitated for a long time, tremors running through his hands.
Finally, he spoke. “You all know I’m… um… not the man I could be.
I was… attacked, by a spawn, when I was a boy. On a trip out of
town, my first adventure with your grandfather. A Mind spawn
appeared. No one knows how it got into my cabin or on the ship. It
was a spawn of fear, and it put me in a nightmare world for a few
minutes, but it felt like years in my head, and I saw, and felt, terrible
things. My own body was slowly roasted and then pulled apart and
eaten bit by bit, my friends and family slain before my eyes or
violated by creatures of indescribable horror. I still remember all of it,
like it’s a wound in my mind that can’t ever heal.”
Spawn were the lesser servants of the Dark, beings of corrupted
magic created by the Abominations. They ranged in power, but all
were malignant creatures of evil that wanted to corrupt or destroy the
mortal races.
Tears rolled down Dad’s cheeks, and his whole body shook. David
walked up and hugged him. “It’s okay, Dad. You did good by us. I’m
so sorry you had to go through all that.”
James nodded, ashamed at himself for never really asking his
father what had happened to him.
“I just… I just prefer to stay here, in the safety of our compound,
with all of our magical rituals so I don’t have to worry about hostile
magic or the spawn getting in,” his dad said, still trembling, although
it was waning. “Those rituals have been built up over years, and
anyone attacking us would be very hard-pressed indeed… and no
spawn could survive it. Their powers wouldn’t work. Essence can’t
be used by anyone except our family in here, and spawn are almost
always pure essence.”
James felt the magic of those rituals wherever he was in the
house, like a protective blanket—that was his perk ‘Tied to Magic’ at
work. It gave him an automatic occult skill, and as a result, he could
feel most ambient magic. He could also usually sense the type and
purpose of magic, even if he didn’t have much formal imbuing
training. It wasn’t unusual in higher-level practitioners of magic to
have a high occult score, but it was almost unheard of in someone
like James, who hadn’t leveled up yet.
Dad finally stopped trembling. “Your granddad… he agreed you
wouldn’t have to face these things till we were ready, to let you be
boys for a while, in a way I never had a chance to be, in return for
giving him control over every other way you were raised.”
“Well, we’re not boys any longer,” David said, then he turned to
James. “James and I can handle it.”
“And now you know everything,” Dad said. “Anyway, I’m going to
go clean up and try to greet our guests respectfully. You boys, um,
do what’s right.”
He strode quickly and stiffly away, needing two tries to get the door
open, then walked out into the hall.
David picked up the first of their granddad’s journals and held it up
—it was a heavy thing, leatherbound, with a lock across it. “I’m going
to go read up on this—you should take the second one and study it.”
“You never liked reading before. Why this sudden interest?”
“It’s fascinating stuff, what Granddad was into,” David said,
grinning. “I’m making an exception.”
He motioned to the other book. “Get yours, and let’s get to the
party. I’m looking forward to how sexy everyone will think I am when
I’m announced as the Dungeon Lord.”
James reached out and took the second journal, just as large and
heavy, and then gazed longingly at the chest with the gem. David
laughed and closed the lid. The locks sealed themselves without any
intervention, and James felt a pulse of power from the chest. “Have
fun tonight, James, then read the journal, and we’ll plan an
expedition together. Our last great adventure before our house gives
birth to a new one!”
“Gross,” James said, laughing. “But I’ll do that.”
“It’s going to be epic,” David replied, waving James out of the
room.
 James took his journal and stepped through the door, into the hall.
He saw his little sister, Isabel, standing by the door. She wore a
beautiful dark blue dress, in the style currently popular. It was
tailored tightly in the bodice, with bare shoulders, but shoulder-length
gloves and a huge, poofy bottom on the dress. The family mask was
tied loosely though the eyehole and hung from the braided belt at her
waist. Like all of their family’s masks, it was dark blue and had faint
wave etchings and a sea serpent around three sides.
In that outfit, she looks almost a lady, despite being barely
eighteen and a mere five foot four. Isabel had the features of the
family—long, black hair and green eyes—but her eyes were more
doe-like, and her stare less intense than that of James or David. In
fact, she always came across as a bit nervous. Dad must have
rubbed off on her.
She also carried a fish sandwich in one hand.
“Um, hey, James, do you know where Dad is?” she asked, toying
with her hair. “People are concerned that almost our entire family
hasn’t shown up to the party. Even Gabriel commented. Could you at
least make an appearance?”
“Your boyfriend is complaining that his girlfriend’s family didn’t
show?” James said, but he was already sidling past her, heading for
his room.
“C’mon, James. Just come to the ballroom with me, okay?” Isabel
said as she touched his arm. “At least until the others show. I’m
nervous.”
“Not now, Izzy, a lot of stuff has been happening,” James said,
removing her hand gently, his fingers curling all the way around her
thin wrist and then some. “Look, I need to deal with things, okay?”
I really, really hate disappointing Isabel, but I’ve got things I need
to do today, curse it.
“O-Okay,” Isabel said, her eyes slightly watery. Then she smiled
and held out the sandwich. “Here, at least take this. I know you. You
always forget to eat when things are exciting.”
James took the sandwich. She really is just too precious for this
world.
 “Hey, Izzy, I really am sorry,” he said, sheepishly holding the
sandwich close. “I swear, though, there are some crazy things I need
to deal with. I’ll tell you about them later. Besides, it sounds like
everyone is having an amazing time—I’m sure you will, too.” He
waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the music and merriment
that permeated the house. “Go try to have fun, and maybe tomorrow
we can hang, okay? Also, Damien said he was headed there before I
even went to Granddad’s study. I’m sure he’s waiting for you.”
“He wasn’t in the ballroom when I was there a few minutes ago.”
James paused. Weird. Maybe he’s already lifting someone’s skirt?
“Look, I’m sure he just had to visit the bathroom or something. Just
go wait for him,” James said. “If he said he’ll be there, I’m sure he’ll
be there, okay?”
Isabel nodded, then turned and very slowly walked away, in the
direction of the back rooms near his granddad’s study and not the
West Ballroom.
James hurried to his room, eating the sandwich as he went.
Sardines and pickles and egg yolk. Pretty good. Thanks, Isabel.
He opened the door that led to an empty room. Anna isn’t here yet,
thank the good gods. James gave his room a onceover, then put his
mask on the nightstand next to his bed, stuffed the journal under his
pillow, licked his fingers clean, and threw himself on the bed.
I can’t believe I’m going to be a Dungeon Lord. That’ll be amazing,
just utterly amazing.
James fantasized for a bit, about all the power he’d have, way
more than anyone else of the same level since being a Dungeon
Lord added stats that others didn’t get. A lot of stats, potentially. It
also granted the Call—which allowed Dungeon Lords to summon
dungeon monsters—and occasionally, a few other abilities.
And a new mask. He turned to his family mask on the nightstand
next to him, proof of his dungeon descent from a living Dungeon
Lord at the time of his birth. Greater powers were conferred on the
dungeon descended, generally speaking, and they all grew a mask
after being born.
What made it a real treasure was that it could be used without
interfering with other magical items…
 James was trying not to worry about Anna, and so he brought up
his status sheet, giving it a onceover and thinking about his perks—
the abilities he’d been born with, which made him unique.

James Alan Toledo

Level One Water, Soul, Wyld

Health 15 Stamina 17 Essence 21

Level Stats

225 base pound-lifting capacity, +25% melee damage,

Strength 13+2
+15% running speed

-15% enemy hit chance, +15% hit chance with all

Agility 13+2
weapons, +15% running speed

+15% base success for crafting and physical skill

Dexterity 13 success rate, 30% chance to raise base weapon damage
roll by one, may reroll

+5 base Stamina, +50% Stamina recovery rate, +50%

Endurance 13+2
base Health recovery rate

+3 base Health, +15% base Health, +15% base Stamina,

Toughness 13 +1.5(1) to resist poison, disease, and physical status
effects

Perception 13 +9% hit, +9% critical chance with ranged weapons

Connection 13 +30% essence recovery rate

Capacity 13 +3 Essence, +15% base Essence

Appearance 13 Moderately handsome

Non-Level Stats

Intelligence 13 +30% skill acquisition rate

Magic 18 +24% magic effect, +1.6(1) maximum affinity

Charisma 13 +30% influence skill effects

Luck 10 The Fates neither dislike nor care for you

Birth Perks

No bonuses or penalties to stats.

Race of Champions: Human’s chance to gain a positive
Race: Human perk is doubled, and if one is gained, the chance to gain
another perk is also doubled. Dungeon-descended
humans have a one-in-ten-thousand chance to gain a
Tier-4 perk.

Human Paragon +3 to all stats, Level and Non-Level, except Luck

+5 Magic, +30% Essence, +5 Occult, +50% Occult skill

Tied to Magic
learning rate

May bond with a dungeon and be a Dungeon Lord. That

dungeon gains an additional base rank to all of its
magics.
The overlord can also have up to three underlords—
Overlord people who are bonded to a dungeon and then bonded to
the mage. The mage acts as a second Dungeon Lord for
the dungeon and adds twenty-five percent to the growth
rate of the dungeon and adds any other specific Dungeon
Lord benefits to the dungeon as well.

Acquired Perks

The time you spend working out and training has paid off.
Athletic +20% effective rank to Strength, Agility, and Endurance,
round down.

Skills Level Effect

… … …

Abilities Effect
Soul

None N/A

James ignored the skills, just focusing on the perks.

His ‘Tied to Magic’ perk granted occult and considerable magic
power. His Paragon gave him better stats. Both were amazing Tier-3
perks.
But it was the ‘Overlord’ that really stood out, a perk no one had
ever seen before. The reason he got to be a Dungeon Lord now.
James sat up in frustration, distracted and full of nervous energy.
Why isn’t Anna here yet? Is she going to break up with me?
James stood and admired himself in the full-length gilded mirror
mounted on the wall of his room. You fill out your doublet nicely,
James thought as he subtly flexed. All that exercise and sword
training at the Highcastle Academy is really paying off. Any girl would
think herself lucky to be with a guy who looks like me.
He licked his fingers and slicked back his short, black hair anyway,
just on the off chance it was his appearance, and then fiddled with
the silver-and-sapphire-inlaid longsword at his hip, moving it to be
slightly more visible. It really completes the outfit.
James threw himself back onto the bed again, his arms against the
headboard.
I’m a noble, and comely, and rich, and I have the absolute best
perks, and no girl ever said ‘no’ before. James frowned. Although…
no one knows about the perks. Maybe that’s why she held out so
long?
We’ve only been dating for a month, and she’s been gone for three
weeks! All I’ve gotten are polite letters, begging off seeing me. If she
hadn’t also been gone from the Academy, I’d honestly worry that she
wasn’t into me!
There was a dainty knocking at his door.
James shot up from the bed, a smile on his face. He rushed to the
door, his heart pounding.
He pulled it open, and Anna stood before him, her dress wet, and
a leaf in her long, white hair.
 Despite looking a bit disheveled, Anna was impossibly beautiful.
The de Viennois family were half-elves, and it showed in her
incredibly lithe figure, what would be thin on a human. She had pale
blue eyes and wore a stunning pink dress—a wet dress, but still. It
was tailored tightly in the bodice, with her shoulders uncovered. A
gold chain ran down into the top, between her small breasts. Her
family mask, pink and perfectly circular with a single eye carved into
the otherwise featureless surface, was clasped to her belt.
It was, except for the chain and the dresses color, almost a perfect
match for Isabel’s dress. James couldn’t help himself; his eyes
lingered where the chain entered the bodice, which was wet enough
that it clung to her cleavage even more than it normally would have.
Then he remembered himself, and his cheeks heated, and his eyes
moved up to meet hers.
“Like what you see?” Anna asked, her voice a dry contrast to her
dress.
James didn’t think he could become even more flustered, but he
was pretty sure his cheeks were the color of flame now. Her beauty
was so stunning, it had taken a moment for her disheveled state to
really sink in.
As well as the worry in her eyes and the frown on her face.
Is she breaking up with me? Today, when I discovered I’m going to
be a Dungeon Lord? Oh, cruel fate…
Anna stepped into the room, giving him a raised eyebrow and a
ghost of her usual smile. James supposed the eyebrow was because
he wasn’t managing to say anything articulate.
“Hey, um, so how’ve you been?” James asked. Lame, you fool!
James hurried to his dresser and pulled out a thick, woolen shirt.
“To dry yourself with.”
Anna took the shirt and walked over to the vanity, dabbing at
herself before setting the shirt down and picking up a fine wooden
comb. She worked at her hair, dropping the leaf onto his desk once
she found it.
“I’ve been… well, not great, actually,” she said, yanking at her
long, white hair with the comb. “A lot of stuff happened, but I don’t
want to talk about it, really.”
 “Why are you wet?” James asked.
“I forgot my parasol,” she replied as she worked at her hair. “Does
it matter? You seemed to enjoy it.”
James, feeling a bit more himself, walked up behind her and put
his arms around her tiny waist. He linked his hands and then leaned
over to nuzzle her neck. He enjoyed feeling how she was damp and
cold, a contrast, somehow, to the music and merriment coming from
the West Ballroom. Like she was different. Otherworldly.
“Well, I’m really, really glad that you came to see me,” James said
into her ear, his voice soft. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”
Anna hesitated, and James could feel her tense. Then she
relaxed, put the comb down, and leaned back against him, all while
managing to push her rear against his thighs as well. She tilted her
head back, reached her arms around his neck, and then kissed him.
He felt a powerful stirring.
“I’ve missed you too,” Anna said. “How’ve you been?”
James didn’t really want to talk but figured he should give her
some honest conversation. “Well, I spent three weeks afraid I’d lost
you or something terrible had happened, then I found out my
granddad died… and then today, well… a whole lot of things
happened. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, darling. How about
you? Is your brother okay? I haven’t seen him at the Academy,
either.”
Anna tensed again. “He’s… well… He’s okay.”
Then she pushed back a bit again. “I’m sorry about your granddad
—Leviathan was a legend in this city, and I know what he meant to
you. But everything else just sounds like the whining of a spoiled
noble kid.”
“Hey, I don’t see why everyone is giving me crap today for being
spoiled,” James growled. “I work hard at the Academy, my granddad
is dead, and I just found out my father was attacked by a spawn
when he was young.”
She tried to angrily pull away from him, but he held her almost
effortlessly, his stirring taking on a slightly darker feel as her body
struggled against his. She stilled for a moment. “Let go, James.”
 He reluctantly did, and she turned to face him, her bottom resting
against the dresser, the heel of her hands pressed down on the
surface. “All of that was bad things happening to other people,
except you working hard, and you’re trying to make yourself a
victim,” she said, her brow furrowed and her cheeks pale, shaking a
finger in his face. “And as to the working hard, you’re just showing
everyone up. It’s admirable that you work hard, and better than most
of the pampered nobles, but it hardly changes how easy everything
is for you, how spoiled you are. You have no idea what suffering is,
or what it’s like to really have something go wrong!”
“Hey, whoa, I’m not trying to cause a fight,” James said, taking a
few steps back and raising his hands. “But you’re a noble too, even if
you’re not dungeon descended. I’m sorry for whatever I said, but,
honestly, even if I am spoiled, why are you so upset? How’s it
different for you?”
She dropped her hands. “You know nothing.” A single tear fell
down her perfect pale cheek, and she turned back to the vanity,
picking up the hairbrush again and starting to yank at her hair.
After a few moments, very slowly, James approached and put his
hands around her again, much more loosely. He admired her slender
shoulders, and he admitted, still checked out her cleavage from
above where the pink dress hugged her tightly. But he said nothing,
figuring it was safer.
After a bit, Anna stopped yanking at her hair, put the brush down,
and reached back and put her hands on his thighs. She tilted her
head back up again, and she kissed him fiercely when he leaned his
head down.
They did that for a bit, but when he tightened his grip and started
to move his hands up, she pushed them down again and ended the
kissing.
“I’m sorry I got angry,” Anna said. “It’s just frustrating, sometimes,
listening to someone who has everything whine about how much
everything hurts. Even if you’re right, and my life is easy, I’m not a
direct child of a Dungeon Lord, and I wasn’t born with some secret
perk that makes me oh-so-special.”
“Well, um, why do you think I have a secret perk?”
 She gave a sharp but feminine laugh. “You keep hinting at how I
‘haven’t even seen the real you,’ and ‘you’ve got tricks up your
sleeves,’ and things of that nature. I know you—you’re not dishonest
enough to be trying to trick me with hints of your glory, which means
your perks are at least special in your mind.”
“Ouch,” James said, laughing himself. “Fair. I need to get better at
deception.”
“You could just show me, you know. I can read status sheets for
those that’ll let me.”
“You can?” James asked, surprised, pulling back from her a bit.
“How?”
“I made Level Two in the dungeon, and I got ‘Cooperative
Divination’ as my ability,” Anna said with a toss of her hair. “It gives
me way more information than ‘Basic Divination,’ but it requires the
consent of people. It acts as a replacement for Basic Divination
when qualifying for higher-level divination abilities as well.”
“Very nice,” James said with a pang of jealousy. “No one has let
me in a dungeon yet. I’m still at zero experience.”
“Well, the point is, I can read your status sheet if you let me,” Anna
said.
“I can’t, truly. I’m sorry, but, well, I promised I wouldn’t show
anyone.”
“Now you’re just being a tease,” she said, then she tensed. After a
moment, she reached back down and gently ran her fingers along
the lacing of his breeches.
“You want to be the first to conquer me, right—to claim me?” she
said, her voice now a husky whisper. “You want to be inside me?”
James tried to talk, but all that came out was a single high-pitched
squeak, to his mortification.
Her fingers continued their gentle dance. “Then let me inside in
turn.”
He wavered for a few moments, on the edge of giving in, but then
he thought of his granddad, who’d literally died to try to make James
the greatest Dungeon Lord ever known. And who’d only left one
command to James when he’d left. “Don’t show anyone your status
sheet.”
 “I… I can’t,” James lamely said.
Anna’s hand withdrew, and he let her go, knowing she’d be angry.
But when she turned, he just saw tears, and she was biting her lip.
Without speaking, she pulled the golden chain up from her dress,
revealing a pocket watch. James felt fairly strong magic from it. A
magic that seemed to want to destroy and end things.
She pressed the button that opened the pocket watch and stared
for a moment, then said, “I need to go touch up my makeup so it
doesn’t look like I’ve been crying, and then we need to head to the
ball. It’s getting late. I’ll be back in a bit—wait for me, okay, so we
can go together?”
“Um, yeah, sure,” James said, his voice catching. “I’m, um, sorry.
Are we still together?”
Please don’t leave me!
“For a tiny bit longer, at least,” she said, moisture at the corner of
her eyes. Then she turned and fled the room.
h h
 Chapter Three
A Truly Inciting Incident

J
ames threw himself back on the bed. “Way to go, asshole,” he
said to himself.
Then he slammed his fists down on the bed a couple of times.
After a moment of reflection, he realized what he must have
resembled. Here I am, throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old
because my girlfriend might not stay with me. Way to really drive
home the point you aren’t spoiled, James.
Now he was angry and embarrassed.
You’re going to be a Dungeon Lord, James. You’re going to be a
Dungeon Lord. Everyone will think you’re amazing. Anna will see.
James repeated it to himself a few times and tried to talk himself
down.
I should just wait for Anna to get back, go see Isabel and David
and Damien, watch David’s ascension ceremony. Then I can say
goodbye and give a secret thanks to Granddad. It’ll be cathartic. Let
it go.
He let out a forced laugh and then took some deep breaths.
Everyone is having fun. Join them. Listen to the laughing and the
music—
As he was thinking it, James suddenly felt the comforting magic of
the wards disappear for the first time he could remember. The
sudden absence caused his heartbeat to speed up and an icy clarity
to flood his body.
James sat up in his bed and then stood, his hand on his sword.
What the hell?
A few seconds later, the music stopped.
Then the screaming began.
James rushed for the door and yanked it open—only to be shoved
back into the room.
 “Stay here, James!” his uncle, Luke, said.
Luke’s fiercely scarred, snarling face was a reminder that he was,
after Granddad, one of the strongest warriors the house had ever
produced. “Stay here where it’s safe!”
“In my room, where they’ll know to look for me first?” James asked,
bemused.
Uncle Luke frowned. “Curse it, I don’t care where you stay! I just
need you to stay hidden till I can get you!” Luke glanced around, his
frantic movements betraying his anxiety. “Fine, go to the guest room
right next to Aunt Hilda’s statue. I’ll meet you there!”
“Right. I’ll see you there.”
James rushed out of the room as Uncle Luke headed toward the
West Ballroom. He flew down the hall, yanked the guest bedroom
door open, and walked in. Screams followed him, voices that
sounded vaguely familiar.
He put his hand on his sword and waited, poised in the darkness
of the room, prepared to fight if someone entered. There were a few
screams, as well as shadows under the door from footfalls as people
ran past.
After a few minutes, a masculine voice screamed out, “No, by the
good gods, I’m just a family servant!”
Then there was a feminine scream, and James couldn’t take it
anymore. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and flung the door
open. I can’t let them kill everyone, no matter what Uncle Luke said!
James saw a man in a purple octopus mask in full lunge, his sword
sticking out of the stomach of Claude, the family cook. Claude was a
fat man, generous with his gifts of food to the numerous noble
children of the house, and he knew them all by name. Claude
screamed, and the man in the octopus mask pulled back from his
lunge.
A female servant shrieked behind him, but before he dealt with
that, James rushed forward, his form nearly perfect, and the masked
man cried out as James’s sword sank into his side just below the
armpit. The wound spewed blood.
 Critical hit! James inflicts 14 damage (6(base sword) x1.08(skill)
x1.09(strength) x2(critical)). Unknown assailant is incapacitated and
bleeding to death.

But James hadn’t checked his surroundings. Another man in an

octopus mask swung an axe overhead at him, its edges already
bloody. James had to let go of his sword and yank himself back. The
first man fell, taking James’s sword to the ground with him.
Before the second man could recover from his axe swing, James
lunged and grappled with him, tripping him so they both fell to the
ground.
Only one enemy left, thankfully, James thought as they both
crashed to the ground. James was a hair quicker, grabbing the
man’s knife from his belt and stabbing it into the man’s neck.
James rolled off the thrashing body, which stilled after a few
seconds, a bathroom smell rising from it. Gross.

James defeated unknown Level 1 assailant. James gains 35 experience in

death energy.

I’ve never actually killed a man before, James thought as he

recovered his sword and wiped it on the doublet of the man he’d
killed. It’s… thrilling, somehow, the adrenaline rush, and surviving.
He felt a surge of primal male emotions. Compete, conquer, mate.
Victory thrilled him, and this was victory in the most dangerous and
significant game of all.
The man on the ground bleeding to death stopped moving, and
James received another thirty-five experience.
The woman came forward and knelt to help Claude—it was Olivia
Tinker, one of the family servants, a mousey girl with straw-colored
hair and freckles. She tried to babble her thanks while still holding
her apron pressed against Claude’s stomach, but James barely
heard her over his own thoughts and growing exhilaration.
I can do this, no matter what Uncle Luke thinks. “Take Claude and
hide in the room there,” James said, pointing to the guest room next
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 Herrensitze der Lößnitz
Von Oberstaatsarchivar Dr. Hans Beschorner
Manch guter Dresdner, der in seinem Leben oft nach der Lößnitz
hinausgekommen ist und auf diesem schönen Fleckchen Erde
Bescheid zu wissen glaubt, kennt zwar den Russen, die Meierei, das
Bilzsche Lustbad, den Pfeifer, die Friedensburg und die Sektkellerei,
aber die Hoflößnitz und Wackerbarths Ruhe sind ihm fremd;
allenfalls weiß er von ihnen durch Hörensagen, mehr nicht. Und
doch sind beide nicht nur landschaftlich und künstlerisch von
großem Reize, sondern auch Marksteine der kulturgeschichtlichen
Entwicklung des ganzen Lößnitzgebietes. Erstere liegt in seiner Mitte
unterhalb des weithin sichtbaren Spitzhauses, das leider bei dem
Umbau im Anfang unseres Jahrhunderts seine bezeichnende
Gestalt eingebüßt hat, auf einem Bergabsatze rechter Hand am
Eingange zum Lößnitzgrunde, letztere zwischen Kötzschenbroda
und Zitzschewig, also ganz im Westen der Lößnitz, überragt von
dem sogenannten Jakobstein, 1743 von dem Hofböttchermeister
Jakob Krause auf dem Weinberge »der Fliegenwedel« erbaut und
1799 mit Wackerbarths Ruhe vereinigt. Das auf einem
Felsenvorsprung äußerst geschickt in die Landschaft hineingestellte
und auch in seinen Formen fein empfundene Tempelchen (s.
Abbildung 1) kann sich mit den anderen berühmten
Aussichtspunkten der Nachbarschaft getrost messen, dem Hohen
Hause (durch Gerhart Hauptmanns »Jungfern vom Bischofsberg«
besonders bekannt), der Wettinshöhe, der Mätressen- oder
Friedsteinburg (die ersten Namen noch weniger verdient, als
letzteren, da das luftige Häuschen in den Teuerungsjahren 1771/72
von dem biederen Kaufmann Ehrich als »Denkmal der
Wohltätigkeit« erbaut wurde), der Friedensburg oberhalb der alten
»Lezenitzberge«, die ihren Namen allmählich der ganzen Gegend
liehen, der Sängerhöhe, der Sennhütte, dem Paradies, dem Pfeifer,
dem Spitzhaus und der Wilhelmshöhe. Wohl von keinem hat man
einen umfassenderen Blick auf die Elbniederung und die Hänge des
Erzgebirges von der Sächsischen Schweiz bis nach Meißen und
darüber hinaus. Großartig! Entzückend aber der Blick auf die
Lößnitzortschaften, die, nach Osten hin von dem türmereichen
Dresden begrenzt, eine einzige Gartenstadt bilden. Eine Perle darin
Wackerbarths Ruhe, das sich von dem Jakobsturm aus dem
Beschauer so darbietet, wie die Abbildung 2 zeigt. Nach der
Dresden–Meißner Straße zu dehnen sich herrliche Parkanlagen: in
der Mitte große, ruhige Rasenflächen, rechts und links davon
schattige alte Baumbestände und zwei prächtige Alleen (s.
Abbildungen 9 und 10). Hinter dem Herrenhause aber steigt, in
mehrere Terrassen gegliedert, ein mit zugespitzten Buchsbäumen,
Rosenhecken und Putten geschmückter Garten in französischem
Geschmack empor. Er wird von zwei je vierzig Meter langen und
zehn Meter breiten Wirtschaftsgebäuden eingefaßt. Das rechte
enthält die Weinpresse und den schönen, tiefen Keller. Das linke
diente einst als Küchengebäude. Dahinter, nach Zitzschewig zu,
liegt, lauschig in Obstanlagen gebettet, das sogenannte
Traiteurgebäude, das im vorigen Jahrhunderte lange Zeit ein
beliebter Ausflugspunkt der Dresdner war. Die Krönung der
französischen Gartenanlage bildet das Belvedere, wegen seiner
Gestalt im Volk allgemein als »Kapelle« bekannt, in Wahrheit aber
als Stätte ländlichen Genießens und ausruhenden Schauens
gedacht (s. die Abbildung 3). Der heitere Bau, dem nur die allerdings
von Anbeginn vorhandene Blechuhr nicht recht steht, leitet zu den
ausgedehnten Weinbergterrassen über, die heute wieder mit
dreißigtausend Stöcken bestanden sind und manchen edlen Tropfen
liefern (s. Abbildung 4).
 Aufnahme von Josef Ostermaier, Dresden-Blasewitz
Abb. 1 Der Jakobsturm
Lange war das Grundstück bös verwildert. Auch hatten ihm
ungeschickte Umbauten schwer geschadet und seinen Charakter
verwischt. Glücklicherweise setzte sein jetziger Besitzer seinen
Ehrgeiz hinein, dem Ganzen einigermaßen wieder sein
ursprüngliches Aussehen zu geben (s. Abbildung 5 und 6) und die
Innenräume vornehm auszugestalten (s. Abbildung 7 und 8).
Denken wir uns den auf vier Säulen ruhenden Balkonvorbau über
dem Haupteingange, die beiden kleinen Eckanbauten und die
Mansarde mit dreieckigem Giebel weg, so haben wir das Haus
ungefähr so wieder vor uns, wie es der Generalfeldmarschall
Reichsgraf August Christoph von Wackerbarth 1727 bis 1729 schuf.
Dieser hervorragende Mann, der August dem Starken über dreißig
Jahre lang als Hofmann, Verwaltungsbeamter, Staatsmann und
Soldat ausgezeichnete Dienste leistete, war auch Baumeister von
Beruf. Seit 1748 betraute ihn deshalb auch sein königlicher Herr und
Gönner mit dem wichtigen Amt eines Generalintendanten der Zivil-
und Militärgebäude. Dadurch aber gewinnt die Vermutung an
Wahrscheinlichkeit, daß er selbst die Pläne zu seinem Alterssitze
entwarf, in Gemeinschaft mit seinem Lieblingsarchitekten Johann
Christoph Knöfel (1686 bis 1752, seit 1730 Oberlandbaumeister),
dem er auch die Ausführung anvertraut haben mag. Beide
zusammen schufen etwas Ganzes, in seiner Art Einzigartiges. Was
der alte Wackerbarth damit bezweckte, hat er selbst in der Inschrift
zusammengefaßt, die er 1729 an der Aufmauerung unter dem
Belvedere anbringen ließ:

»Der Weinberg, den Du siehst, heißt Wackerbarthens Ruh.

Kein Fluch drückt diesen Ort, tritt leiser nur herzu.
Hier wiedmet er sich selbst, den Rest von seinen Jahren,
Entbürdet von den Hof-, Welt-, Staats- und Kriegs-Gefahren.
Hier ist es, wo von Neid und Anlauff er befreyt,
Zwar seinen Tod nicht sucht, jedoch ihn auch nicht scheut.«
 Abb. 2 Wackerbarths Ruhe Blick auf das
Herrenhaus vom Jakobstein
Aufnahme von Josef Ostermaier, Dresden-Blasewitz

Wackerbarthens Ruh! Ausruhen wollte hier der viel geplagte Hof-,

Welt-, Staats- und Kriegsmann, dem Neide und der Mißgunst, die
ihn so viel verfolgt hatten, aus dem Wege gehen. Daß »kein Fluch
den Ort drückt«, bezieht sich offenbar auf das Gerede, das die
Entstehung von Wackerbarths Ruhe mit der Ermordung des
Dresdner Pastors Hahn durch den Trabanten Franz Laubler 1726
und der Hinrichtung des in die Sache mit verwickelten Kanoniers
Gottfried Mittag in Verbindung brachte.
Abb. 3 Wackerbarths Ruhe Das Belvedere
Aufnahme von Josef Ostermaier, Dresden-Blasewitz
 Abb. 4 Weinberge von Wackerbarths Ruhe
Aufnahme von Josef Ostermaier, Dresden-Blasewitz

Die Inschrift ist heute nicht mehr da. An ihrer Stelle stehen die
Worte: »Menschengeschlechter, die ziehen vorüber wie die Schatten
vor der Sonne.« Sie stammen von dem Großgroßneffen des
Generalfeldmarschalls: August Ludwig von Wackerbarth, der das
Grundstück 1809 von dem Bankherrn Christian Friedrich Freiherrn
von Gregory kaufte. 1733, nach dem Tode des
Generalfeldmarschalls, hatte es zunächst sein Adoptivsohn Graf
Joseph Anton Gabaleon von Wackerbarth-Salmour besessen, der
bekannte Mithelfer des Prinzen Friedrich Christian bei Beseitigung
der Brühlschen Mißwirtschaft. Nach dessen Tode, 1761, aber hatte
es oft seine Besitzer gewechselt. 1764 bis 1776 gehörte es der
gräflich Rexschen Familie, 1776 bis 1789 der Gräfin Hohenthal,
geborene von Rex, 1789 bis 1798 einem Kaufmann Hetzer aus
Leipzig, von dem es an den genannten Freiherrn von Gregory
überging. Der »Rauhgraf«, wie sich August Ludwig von Wackerbarth
gern, aber ohne jede Berechtigung nannte, und damit sein
Sonderlingswesen traf, übernahm den alten Wackerbarthschen
Familienbesitz dem Rate folgend, den ihm seine Großmutter auf
dem Sterbebette gegeben hatte. Er verband große Hoffnungen
damit. Hier dachte er sein Leben zu genießen inmitten seiner auf
weiten Reisen gesammelten Kunstschätze (namentlich Bilder), in
eifriger schriftstellerischer Tätigkeit und in anregendem Verkehre mit
geistig hochstehenden Menschen. Er brachte aber sich selbst um
den ruhigen Genuß durch sein verschrobenes Wesen und seine
Zügellosigkeit. Trotz seines großen Reichtums von Haus aus immer
in Geldnöten, die namentlich durch die wahnwitzige Verfolgung einer
in die Hunderte von Millionen gehenden Schuldforderung an die
Rechtsnachfolger der Herzöge von Lauenburg hervorgerufen waren
und 1811 sogar zum offenen Konkurs führten, mußte er seine
geliebte Wackerbarths Ruhe zeitweise verkaufen oder vermieten.
1816 bis 1823 war sie infolgedessen Knabenerziehungsanstalt unter
dem bekannten Jugendschriftsteller Carl Lang und seinem
Schwiegersohn Dr. Carl Vogel (dem Vater des Afrikaforschers
Eduard Vogel und der Schriftstellerin Elise Polko) und von 1835 ab
Privat-Irrenanstalt, erst unter Dr. Bräunlich, dann unter Dr. Matthiae,
der die Anstalt 1864 nach dem Lindenhof in Neu-Coswig verlegte
(seit 1888 in Dr. Piersons Händen). Durch seine kostspieligen
Liebhabereien, seinen Leichtsinn in Geldsachen, seine blinde
Vertrauensseligkeit an den Bettelstab gebracht, starb dieser
Sonderling mit dem goldenen Herzen, aber eisernen Starrsinn 1850
in der Nähe von Wackerbarths Ruhe.
 Abb. 5 Wackerbarths Ruhe Blick auf das Herrenhaus vom Park aus
Aufnahme von P. Georg Schäfer, Dresden

Nun folgten wieder bis zum Jahre 1916, wo die ganze

ausgedehnte Besitzung mit dem Haupthause, dem Belvedere, den
zwei Wirtschaftsgebäuden, dem Traiteur, dem Böhmeschen
Winzerhause und dem Jakobstein durch den heutigen kunstsinnigen
Eigentümer zusammengekauft wurde, fortwährende Besitzwechsel.
Sie trugen die Schuld daran, daß das Grundstück noch mehr
herunterkam, als dies schon unter dem bedauernswerten
Rauhgrafen der Fall gewesen war. Von der einstigen ländlichen
Pracht, wie sie der Generalfeldmarschall, auch im Innern des
Hauses, geschaffen hatte, war nicht mehr viel zu spüren. Zur Zeit
ihres Schöpfers war Wackerbarths Ruhe zweifellos der schönste
Familiensitz in der Lößnitz. In ihr spiegelte sich klar die Zeit August
des Starken wieder mit ihrer Genußfreudigkeit und ihrem
künstlerischen Geschmack.
Abb. 6 Wackerbarths Ruhe Blick auf das Herrenhaus vom Belvedere aus
 Aufnahme von P. Georg Schäfer, Dresden
Abb. 7 Der Gartensaal in Wackerbarths Ruhe

Wieviel einfacher dagegen, deshalb aber in ihrer Eigenart nicht

minder anziehend wirkt die Hoflößnitz, die sich Johann Georg I.
1650 von seinem Landbaumeister Ezechiel Eckhart bauen ließ.
Mitten in die sonnigen Weinberge ist das einfache Fachwerkhaus mit
hohem Walmdach gesetzt, das 1913 auf Veranlassung des leider
nur kurze Zeit bestehenden Hoflößnitzvereins stilgerecht
wiederhergestellt wurde und dabei auch zum größten Leidwesen
mancher Lößnitzer und Lößnitzfreunde das erst 1899 aufgesetzte
stilwidrige Blechtürmchen auf dem Dach und unten herum die
störenden Balustraden verlor (vergleiche hierüber Högg in diesen
Mitteilungen III, 1913, Seite 64 bis 66). Parkanlagen fehlten. Nur
Weinberge und zwei Höfe gehörten dazu, der sogenannte Holzhof
an der Grundstraße und oben der Herrenhof, von der
Bergverwalterwohnung, dem geräumigen Preßgebäude (mit
schönem Keller) und Schuppen nach dem Lößnitzgrunde zu flankiert
(s. Abbildungen 6 und 7). Auf diesem Hofe, der später mehrfach,
wenn auch nicht in der von August dem Starken geplanten
großartigen Weise, umgestaltet und 1747 bis 1750 durch die große,
von Pöpelmann entworfene dreihundertfünfundzwanzigstufige
Treppe mit dem Spitzhause verbunden wurde, fanden die Aufzüge
und ländlichen Lustbarkeiten (Ringelrennen mit dem
Wassermännchen, Bauer-, Damen-Rennen, Hahneschlagen,
Pferderennen nach der Gans, Sack-, Bettelmanns-,
Schießkockeltanz und andere Tänze) statt, wenn der Hof,
namentlich zur Weinlese, anwesend war und sich von dem
fröhlichen Winzervölkchen huldigen ließ, wie dies unter anderem in
den Dresdner Geschichtsblättern XIII (1904), Seite 209 bis 226, 239
bis 247, dazu noch XVIII (1909), Seite 30 bis 35, und in der
Wissenschaftlichen Beilage der Leipziger Zeitung 1905 Nummer 142
und 143, Seite 565 bis 567 und 569 f., nach zeitgenössischen
Quellen geschildert ist. Daselbst und in den »Bau- und
Kunstdenkmälern des Königreichs Sachsen« XXVI (1904), Seite 136
bis 149, lese man auch die Beschreibung des Inneren nach, wie es
sich heute noch dem Auge darbietet und aus alten
Sachverzeichnissen vervollständigen läßt.
 Aufnahme von P. Georg Schäfer, Dresden
Abb. 8 Der Speisesaal in Wackerbarths Ruhe
 Aufnahme von P. Georg Schäfer, Dresden
Abb. 9 Teilbild aus dem Park von Wackerbarths Ruhe

Nachdem wir einen flüchtigen Blick in die gewölbten Räume des

Erdgeschosses geworfen haben, zur Linken in die sogenannte
Tafelstube, zur Rechten in die Marschall- oder Bacchusstube, die für
das herrschaftliche Gefolge bestimmt waren, steigen wir in dem
helmgekrönten Treppenturme, der, nach der Hofseite zu angebaut,
das Haus nur wenig überragt, die einst mit Geweihen reich
ausgestattete, ziemlich enge Treppe empor und betreten im ersten
Stock durch die niedrige, mit grellen Ornamenten ziemlich auffallend
bemalte Türe den Festsaal (siehe Abbildung 13). Welche
Farbenfreudigkeit lacht uns hier entgegen! Welche Fülle
verschiedenartigster Bilder, die in die Decke und in die Wände dicht
nebeneinander eingelassen sind, stürmt von allen Seiten auf uns
ein! In erster Linie wird unsere Aufmerksamkeit gefesselt durch die
Decke, die durch buntbemalte Balken und Leisten in achtzig
quadratmetergroße Felder geteilt ist. Jedes Feld zeigt eine prächtig
in Öl gemalte Vogeldarstellung, lauter brasilianische Arten. Wie
mögen Johann Georg II. und seine Zeitgenossen über diese bis
dahin in Europa ganz unbekannten Vertreter der südamerikanischen
Vogelwelt gestaunt haben! Nicht anders als wir werden sie sich
weidlich über alle die schwierigen Namen, die auszusprechen meist
eine besondere Zungenfertigkeit erfordert, belustigt haben, über den
Guirapotiapirangaiuparaba, den Guiraacangatara und wie sie sonst
alle heißen. Ein holländischer Maler, Albert Eyckhaut aus
Amersfoort, der an der niederländischen Forschungsreise des
Grafen Johann Moritz von Nassau-Siegen 1636 bis 1644 nach
Brasilien im Auftrage der Westindischen Kompagnie teilnahm und
1653 bis 1655 in Dresden als Hofmaler wirkte, schuf die Bilder nach
seinen aus der Neuen Welt mitgebrachten Skizzen. Von einem der
anderen damaligen Hofmaler, etwa Centurio Wiebel oder Christian
Schiebling, mag der bildnerische Schmuck der Wände stammen, der
nicht auf der künstlerischen Höhe der Eyckhautschen Vogelbilder
steht, aber doch auch seinem Zwecke vollauf genügt: erheiternd und
unterhaltend zu wirken. In den heute leeren Rahmen über dem etwa
in Schulterhöhe ringsum laufenden Simse waren fünfzig
Fürstenbildnisse eingelassen, die der Hof 1889 bei der Veräußerung
des Grundstücks in eines seiner Schlösser bringen ließ. Unter dem
Simse aber sind die wichtigsten Herrschertugenden durch
Frauengestalten versinnbildlicht: die Güte, die Wachsamkeit, die
Tapferkeit usw. Die übrigen kleineren Bilder, die sich in buntem
Gemisch über die Wände verteilen, predigen in teils ernster,
meistenteils aber drolliger Weise Lebensart und Lebensklugheit.
Christus auf Golgatha ist als »Ziel des Lebens« (Scopus vitae meae
Christus) bezeichnet. Eine Landschaft mit Weinberg und Kornfeld
erinnert daran, daß »die Obrigkeit so nötig ist als Wein und Brot«.
Ein Mann, der ein Pferd am Schwanze zieht und dafür mit einem
tüchtigen Huftritte bedacht wird, erhält die gute Lehre »Gehe ja
vorsichtig und behutsam mit denen umb, so große Macht und
gewaldt haben«, während ein weinbekränzter Bacchus auf einer
Tonne, der einem auf ihn zuspringendem Flügelpferde zutrinkt,
sagen will »Der Wein zwinget manchem oft mehr Stärke und
Weisheit ein, als er kann und vermag« (siehe die beiden
letztgenannten Bilder auf Abbildung 13 über und unter dem Fenster.
Die auf dem Simse stehenden eingerahmten Blätter aus dem Werke
über den Wettinfestzug von 1889 denke man sich weg. Sie stören
den Gesamteindruck).

Aufnahme aus dem Heimatschutzarchiv

Abb. 10 Die Lindenallee in Wackerbarths Ruhe
Diese wenigen Proben mögen genügen. Man gehe selbst hin,
schaue, lese und freue sich! Die Gemeinde Oberlößnitz, die das
Schlößchen von dem erwähnten Hoflößnitzverein übernahm,
gestattet gern die Besichtigung. Hat man sich aber an der seltsamen
Pracht des Saales, dessen Fenster einst wie alle andern dieses
ersten Stocks, mit grünen Vorhängen versehen waren, über dessen
steinernem Estrich weiche Teppiche lagen und dessen übrige
Einrichtung aus zwei langen, grün überzognen Tafeln, vierunddreißig
Lehnstühlen, einer Standuhr und kleinerem Hausrate bestand, satt
gesehn, so versäume man nicht, auch die vier Nebenräume, deren
Ausstattung zu der des Hauptraums stimmte, zu besichtigen. Durch
die erste Türe rechts gelangen wir in einen kleinen, von zwei Seiten
durch Fenster erhellten Raum, der einst dem Kurfürsten als
Schlafzimmer diente. Auch hier überall unmittelbar in die Decken
und Wände eingelassene Bilder, durch buntbemalte Leisten, Simse,
Pilaster und dergleichen mehr miteinander verbunden als
voneinander getrennt. Die in des Kurfürsten Schlafzimmer stellen
allerhand Seegetier und Seeungeheuer dar oder Meerjungfrauen,
die mit solchen Ungetümen im Kampfe liegen. Leider sind sie nicht
mehr vollzählig; es fehlen z. B. alle bildlichen Darstellungen oberhalb
des Simses. Ähnlich liegen die Verhältnisse in dem anstoßenden
Wohnzimmer des Kurfürsten. Diana und ihre neun Jagdgefährtinnen
unterhalb des Simses sind noch erhalten. Dagegen sind die
Schildereien über dem Simse samt und sonders verschwunden. Wir
wissen nur aus alten Sachverzeichnissen noch, was sie darstellten:
Landschaften, Schlachten, Fruchtstücke, Tiere, die Festung
Königstein. Besonders beachtenswert ist auch in diesem Raume die
Decke. Sie zeigt außergewöhnliche Jagdbeuten Johann Georgs I.
aus den Jahren 1625 bis 1652, meist mit genauer Angabe von
Größe, Gewicht, Tag und Ort der Erlegung (vgl. das Nähere in den
»Bau- und Kunstdenkmälern« a. a. O.).
 Aufnahme von P. Georg Schäfer, Dresden
Abb. 11 Die Hoflößnitz vom Weinberg aus gesehen
 Abb. 12 Die Hoflößnitz
nach dem Titelbilde zu J. P. Knohllen Kleinem Vinicultur-Büchlein 1667

Diese beiden Zimmer des Kurfürsten, die heute weiter keinen

gerade behaglichen Eindruck machen, waren einst sehr wohnlich
eingerichtet. Weiche, blaugelbe Teppiche bedeckten den Boden. Für
Tische mit kostbaren Tischdecken und lederbeschlagene Stühle war
reichlich gesorgt. Schöne silberne Leuchter standen auf den Tischen
und hingen an den Wänden. Auch waren zwischen den Gemälden
zierliche Rehköpfchen in Menge befestigt. Namentlich konnte man
sich in dem Schlafzimmer wohl fühlen. Schwere, grüne, geblümte
Damastvorhänge mit Spitzen und silbernen Fransen wehrten dem
eindringenden Tageslichte. Das mit weichen Polstern, Kissen und
Decken verschwenderisch ausgestattete Bett stand unter einem
ebenfalls aus grünem Damast hergestellten Betthimmel. Alles, was
der Kurfürst zu seiner Bequemlichkeit brauchte, war da: ein
Waschtisch mit dem nötigen Geschirr, ein Schreibtischchen mit
eigenartigem Schreibzeug und Abreißkalender, ein Fernrohr, damit
er gleich früh beim Aufstehen die herrliche Aussicht aus seinen
Fenstern genießen konnte, usw. Ja, selbst ein gründamastener
Schlafrock mit silbernen Besätzen und Knöpfen nebst dazu
passender Nachtmütze fehlten nicht! Zum Überflusse stand noch in
dem Raume, gewissermaßen unter persönlicher Aufsicht des
Kurfürsten, ein Glasschrank mit allerhand Kunstwerken, die heute
zum Teil im Grünen Gewölbe aufbewahrt werden: aus Holz,
Elfenbein und Edelmetallen gebildete Winzer und Winzerinnen, ein
silbernes Fäßlein mit dem Bacchus darauf, Schalen, Gläser und
Krüge der verschiedensten Arten.
Die entsprechenden Zimmer auf der andern Seite des Saals
waren für die Kurfürstin bestimmt. Die Decken dieser beiden
Gemächer sind einheitlich mit pausbäckigen und rundgliederigen
Genien bemalt, die Blumen in ihren dicken Händchen halten. Auch
die Wände der Schlafstube sind unten herum mit sechzehn
Amoretten und allerhand Obst- und Blumenornamenten geziert,
während oben herum zwölf Amazonenbrustbilder laufen. Der
Wandschmuck des Wohnzimmers spielt, teilweise wenigstens, auf
den Namen der ersten Kurfürstinnen an, die hier wohnten oder
wohnen sollten. Da nämlich sowohl Johann Georgs I. beide
Gattinnen, als auch Johann Georgs II. Gemahlin Sibylla hießen,
wählte der Künstler für die Felder über dem Simse die zwölf
römischen Sibyllen, während er unten herum neun Künste und
Wissenschaften (Arithmetik, Musik usw.) in Putten verkörperte. –
Auch diese Zimmer waren natürlich mit Fenstervorhängen,
Teppichen und verschiedenartigem Hausrat ausgestattet, wenn auch
viel einfacher, als die des Kurfürsten. Hervorgehoben seien ein auf
Leinwand gemaltes »Fastnachtsspiel« und ein ebenfalls gemaltes
»Königsspiel« (Schachbrett).