All the Dust that Falls: A Roomba Isekai Adventure

Harold's feet hurt. It had been a very, very long walk home.

His coin had run out several weeks ago. Still, between his knowledge and experience as a soldier, he had managed to scrape by. Selling a thing or two here or stealing another there. Eventually though, the capital came into view. And what a welcome sight it was.

He scratched at his beard. He'd need to find a place where he could wash and shave, or else no one would actually believe it was him. Maybe even a change of clothes, he thought as he picked at the travel-worn coat that hung about him.

Harold managed to get through the gate without too much hassle. Then, he immediately made an unobtrusive beeline for a particular stone in a particular alley near the entrance. One of the organization's hidden supply caches.

He hoped against hope that this one was still intact. The others he'd checked on his way home hadn't been. It was why Harold had found himself so hard-pressed for supplies. He’d certainly tried all the ones he’d recalled, hoping to find some coins to buy a horse. One or two he could understand, but so many hidden stashes being left without replacement? It didn't sit right.

What had happened? He wasn't sure. The Warden was usually very on top of making sure things ran properly, but perhaps this just slipped his notice. Secret hiding spots were harder to supply than one might expect, after all. Maintaining their location stayed hidden was difficult and usually couldn't be trusted to just anyone in the organization.

The Warden didn't handle such things personally, but he did organize the ones who did. So if the organization wasn't running properly… it was not good news.

As Harold walked through the streets of the capital, he scanned the familiar street signs and bustling crowds of people going about their days. A feeling of familiarity washed over him at the sight of a thriving city. Which just made the people standing on street corners and yelling about the end times stand out even more.

Not to be completely unfair, though. Harold did know a decent amount of how cults operated, in a professional sense of course. They kind of came with the territory in his line of work, both in demonology and with the organization. He’d had to work around several in his time as they worshiped the statues that were the Lieutenants. Some oral traditions passed down enough of that people recognized the Lieutenants’ locations as places of power.

But even compared to the worst he’d seen, one he had to deal with personally a little over a decade back, these people were persistent. At least it seemed that not everyone was interested in listening. He watched one of the ones standing on a particularly dirty corner get pushed into the muck by a particularly annoyed merchant. The cultist soon picked himself up, but his expression turned distraught and almost panicked at the state of his once-white robe.

The man who pushed the preacher, he walked past. Harold watched him shake his head and mutter, "Bloody cleaners."

Harold blinked in confusion. Cleaners? Was that what they were called? He set the thought aside for the moment. He’d finally made it to the safe house.

Thankfully, this one was still intact. He found a small supply of coins, clothes, and other necessities for blending into the city within. After an unsatisfyingly cold wash and shave, he was once more dressed in some fresh tunics and feeling heaps better. He gazed longingly at the bed, wanting nothing more than to pass out in its downy embrace, but he did need to make it to the castle. And talk to the Warden.

He wasn't too concerned about doing it immediately. If his messages had gotten through, then the Warden would already know the situation. If they hadn’t, then they were all in real trouble. But now that he was here, he felt eager to at least set up the meeting. So he set out again after resetting all the security measures and logging his usage of the room with his secret passphrase, identifying who took these supplies to the ones who would know.

Now in his proper appearance, he made his way towards the inner city. As he left the poorer areas, he saw less and less of the white-robed, crazy people yelling. Yet the ones he did see were also treated slightly better. Most people just ignored them instead of hassling them or anything. But he did notice a few people lingering around the edges of their range, listening to the words as they walked by.

Harold did his best to tune them out. If they were a problem, the Warden would likely let him know, and he could work on solving it. But as it seemed right now, they were mostly a harmless nuisance. Hopefully, the city government could take care of it before it became too big of an issue.

As he crossed into the wealthier districts, he realized something strange. He hadn't seen a single city patrol. In fact, aside from the guards of the gates, there hadn’t been any real government presence around the entire time. Unless he hadn't recognized them.

That wasn't too much of a surprise. He didn't expect to recognize every guard in the city, but there should have been at least someone on watch he recognized. And he certainly should have run into some patrols. But no. Nothing.

Harolds eyes narrowed as he watched around himself a little more warily. He started to notice all sorts of details that were a little bit off. There were pretty much no beggars or urchin children running around the streets, which he should have noticed a lot sooner. There were even more dangerous-looking men, though. No one was taking shortcuts through dark alleys, and everyone seemed to press into the center of the thoroughfares no matter their destination.

People in the city largely went on about their business. Still, now that he was aware of it, he noticed a certain undercurrent of fear.

Harold pulled his new cloak tight around his shoulders and picked up his pace. Eventually, he made it to the city's branch bank. It should give him some idea of what was going on.

He entered, and the unfamiliar guards nodded at him, pulling the door open. They didn't know who he was, but he looked respectful enough that he wouldn't cause too much of a problem, at least not by himself. As he walked in, he looked around at the fancy building.

Standing in line for the tellers, he waited until he was upfront. Then he withdrew from a particular account exactly seven gold and twenty four coppers before leaving.

He then went back through the city and crashed on the safehouse bed. Hopefully, the Warden would get the signal, and the meeting would be arranged tomorrow morning. If not, he might have to take a bit more drastic measures.

***

The rising sun woke him as light streamed through the tiny window in his room. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, hurriedly ate some dried rations, and left for the adventuring hall to check the quest boards. He scanned through every single note but didn't find the one he was looking for.

Harold frowned and couldn't help but be confused. The cold feeling of coins tucked into his secret pocket told him that he'd gotten the right number. Clearly, they wouldn't have let him remove the money if he’d made a mistake. But perhaps they had just not checked?

Something was very wrong. There should have been a response notification, even if the Warden wasn't available for a meeting. At least then there should have been a rejection sign. But nothing. Not a single thing.

Harold retreated from the boards and found a corner table where he'd be left alone. Sitting down, he tried to think. Should he try some of the alternative contact methods? That probably wouldn't be a good idea. It'd be too suspicious. If someone had broken the organization, they must have stopped using this line for a reason. If that was the case, was he compromised because he had gone through with proper protocols?

Assuming that they were able to do that. But he frowned. No, he really couldn't draw too many conclusions without more information, and for that, he would probably need to get into the castle. Maybe he could get in touch with any of the contacts he knew there. Perhaps he could even get in contact with the Warden directly. A simple note passed hand to hand was a last resort that he didn't want to have to follow, but one that he could and would probably be excused for doing if necessary.

He quickly scrawled out a couple sentences in code requesting a private meeting, as well as giving an all-clear signal except for his previous reports. If the reports hadn't been received, the Warden would be concerned. If they had been, he would know there was nothing else that Harold needed to report. He still hoped for a meeting, though.

Harold then snuck his way into the castle and finally found a guard he recognized. He stopped before a door leading to the off limits part of the castle and greeted the man. "Reginald. It's been a while. How are things?"

The guard startled as Harold walked up to him. With a look of confusion, he squinted, and cocked his head. "Do I-? Oh, Harold! Wow. It has been a while. I haven't seen you around in ages. Surprised you're still here."

"Oh, just got back. Actually, I was on a bit of a trip." Harold explained.

Reginald winced. "So you've been gone for a while, then?"

"Well, I don't like the sound of that.” Harold grinned with forced casualness. “You say that like I missed something. What's going on?"

"A lot of things, friend. A lot of things. Between you and me…" Reginald leaned closer, making sure no one heard him. “Folks have been saying the king ain't alright. He’s doing lots of strange things, if you know what I mean. A bit harsher.”

Reginald nodded down the hall. “Don't recognize half of these new guards, now, do you? That's because none of us know him either. Why, I'm expecting to be let go any time now. Everyone's new. You probably won't recognize half the people in the palace nowadays."

Harold paled. The King was acting strangely, and men were being replaced. He had a bad, bad feeling about this. Worse, he had a hunch about what was going on.

“That is indeed worrying. And what of…” He asked after several different people, making sure to slip one of the Warden's disguises into the list. All people he knew to have some prominence. One by one, Reginald told him that almost all of them had been replaced. When he asked about the Warden's “name”, Reginald frowned.

"Best not to talk about that. Don't want anyone to hear," he said, looking around furtively.

“Reg, there's no one here.” But Reginald refused to say more.

Eventually, Harold pushed a little harder. "Hey, this sounds like something I'll need to know. It'd be weird if I didn't."

"Well…” The man sighed before lowering his voice further. “Apparently, he was committing treason. Anyone related to him has been brought in and questioned. Most of them have been locked up. In fact, if you've met with him recently, you might want to get out of here sooner rather than later. Before anyone who might not know that you're loyal to the crown says something."

Harold frowned. The Warden was locked up. The development explained so much, yet loosed a flood of new questions and suspicions with it. He thanked Reginald quickly and passed him one of the gold. "Thank you, friend. Sounds like you might be needing to forget about me. And if you never need employment, come find me."

"Much obliged, Sir," Reginald said with a wink, pocketing the coin surreptitiously. Reginald wasn't the type to take bribes normally, but Harold wasn't trying to get into a space he wasn’t alowed. As long as Harold didn't go through the door when he wasn't supposed to, Reginald wouldn't mind taking a little donation from an old friend. Especially if he might lose his job soon. Harold wasn't sure if he actually needed to employ a guard, but it might be a good way to get more information.

He quickly exited the palace and strolled back into the city with forced calmness. The dungeon. That was going to be tricky.

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