Kukurnal turned and sat, tension seeming to flush from his body and all four turned to stare at Joe. Joe weathered their strange stares, discomfort growing slightly but he refused to crumble. He didn’t understand what had happened, nor did he understand the nuances, but he didn’t doubt his interpretation of reality. The stares continued for a few moments before Kukurnal broke eye contact to shake his head. Tension seemed to drain at that point and Joe decided to try to understand what happened.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Kukurnal responded, a sigh of exhaustion ruffling across the front of his chest.

“Why was he so angry?”

“You disturbed his slaves! Why wouldn’t he be angry.”

Confusion fled from his faced, routed by understanding, “So he’s one of the good ones, then.”

“Huh?” It was now Kukurnal’s time to be confused.

“He’s a good master. He cares for his slaves.”

“Of course.”

Joe nodded a bit, but then continued, forcing the issue despite what had happened, “But that means there are bad ones, too.”

Joe’s statement once again brought an uncomfortable feeling to the table as the other four people squirmed under the assault of new emotions; confusion for the younger three apprentices and uncomfortable acceptance and anger from the cleric. It took a few moments before Kukurnal finally responded, “Yes. There are bad ones.”

“That, more than anything, is what makes me uncomfortable. I know, even amongst my people, we practiced slavery. Long ago, it was done in a way to attempt to be humane. Masters were expected to care for their slaves as their own family, to an extent. But, power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. This is a saying amongst my people. What more power can one have than absolute power over another sapient? In time, all masters become bad masters. Good masters teach their children, but children slowly become evil. That evil accumulates from father to son, mother to daughter.

“This inn slave, she is lucky. She has a good master who cares for her. But if he was a bad master, who will protect her and save her? Who can she go to for salvation or to protect her from the evil he may commit against her. She is property. A man does not go to prison for burning his own house down. A woman does not go to prison for breaking her own comb. Neither are punished for destroying what they own. For abusing, grinding down, or destroying that which is theirs. Who would stand up for a comb, boots, a pouch… a slave?”

Silence descended upon the table, uncertain discomfort like a heavy velvet blanket, thick and cloying. Kukurnal said nothing, grimacing, but Garnedell looked to Joe before asking a question, raw innocence rasping across his voice, “But who would protect and care for the innocent weak and poor?”

“Who took care of you, Garnedell?”

Garnedell said nothing, confusion on his face and no response forthcoming. Joe smiled a bit until he finally realized Garnedell wasn’t getting it, “I did, Garnedell.”

Garendell didn’t respond and everyone sitting at the table looked around at each other with confusion. Joe smiled and sighed a bit before continuing, “I had a choice when I helped you, Garnedell. And you two,” Joe added while nodding at the two Acokzau siblings, “I could choose to help you by making you my slaves, which is just another way of helping myself. I get free labor for life, you get room and board. I get quite a bit from the deal, for life. You get the barest of survival.

“Or. I could give you a future. Training. Take you as apprentice and when you are trained, you are free to move on. I, with power, can choose to free you, at a minor cost, or even great cost, to myself. Or I can choose to imprison you in various ways, including slavery, and give myself great gain for almost my whole life!

“I can choose to make you my equal, or set you on the path to being my equal. Or I can choose to make you my inferior and follower… slave, and force you to be so for the rest of your life.”

The silence around the table was deafening, and Joe morosely turned to his meal, eating sullenly before he shook the depressing mood. Something else to keep to myself, but why…? Why did she react like that?

But then, Kukurnal suddenly spoke up, “So, you’re one of the good ones, then?”

Joe looked up, confused, “You pointed out the owner was one of the good slave owners and cared for her, but the possible existence of bad slave owners made slavery dangerous and evil. Are there no bad people amongst your kind? Only good? Who would willingly of their own effort help the poor, weak, and lost?”

Joe found himself deflating even more, as he realized Kukurnal was exactly right before nodding sadly, “Maybe, but active abuse is likely, to me, a greater evil than neglectful abandonment. An abandoned person has a chance to seek out aid from those who will aid. An abused slave has no recourse as they are completely owned by their owner.”

Kukurnal thought for a moment, offering no response to this, before slowly nodding his head in acceptance, “I am uncertain if I agree, but I could see how this is possible. I would need to learn more of what you believe is the alternative.”

“Maybe,” Joe ended.

The table fell silent for another period of time before Joe shook himself from his dark mood.

“But, I guess people in power want their power. Whether it’s slavery or wealth, it’s all power to them, so… anyway, let’s change the subject. My last question. Dungeons. Can you tell me everything about them? I asked Garnedell but he didn’t know much. But basically: What good are they? Where do they come from? What use are they to a city, clan, or adventurer? Just… anything you might think would be useful for me?”

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Kukurnal took a deep breath and seemed to shake himself from his thoughts, a piercing look spearing Joe as he stared at him for a moment, considering carefully before continuing. “I’m uncertain philosophical musings about the origin of dungeons, magic, and life will be of great help for you, but… you seem to be a philosopher yourself,” Kukurnal paused for several moments before continuing, “However, I believe you seek to know of the benefits to an adventurer. They are great. There are three major benefits, although the last is rare and hard come by.”

Kukurnal seemed to settle into the lecture, the normalcy offering comfort, “First, dungeons offer easy and quick access to monsters to fight, especially if the dungeon is encamped by a city. Exploring the dungeon and returning for the evening for a warm meal, bed, and companion is of great benefit. Only the greatest of dungeons will see adventurers camping the night in the dungeon. Dungeon exploration offers all the variety and skill gains of exploring the wilderness while also providing guaranteed safety and meal in an inn or home each night.

“Secondly, dungeons can be conquered. When a dungeon is conquered, adventurers gain boons of some kind. These boons may be mystic, adding hidden boosts to the strength of the adventurer, or may offer certain skills or spells, or may even offer hidden jobs unique to a dungeon, or even items of great wealth and power. Conquering a dungeon offers great gains to the adventurer.

“Lastly, conquering a dungeon also allows you to claim the dungeon, making it yours and allowing you to control or take it with you, although, as I said before, the last is very difficult. Most dungeons now are claimed already. The four dungeons of Coushar are claimed and owned by the clan Glagandar.”

“Huh… So how do you conquer and claim a dungeon?”

“Defeat its last floor and find its core. After you hold its core in your hand, the dungeon will can be claimed.”

“Hmm… anything else?”

“Well, after claiming, you may simply take the core with you.”

“Really?” Joe quickly found himself intrigued with the conversation, mind focusing on the topic.

“Yes.”

“Then… what stops anyone from taking one of the dungeons of Coushar?”

Kukurnal quickly shushed Joe, hand waving Joe to silence, “Shh! Do not offend the Clans! They will hunt you down and kill you, quickly and easily!”

“So, nothing is stopping someone from doing so.”

“No! But the anger of the Clans is great! No one could live if they were to do so! They would be hunted easily and quickly! There are many magics to find such people.”

“Huh… magical detectives. Good to know. Alright… I guess I’m good for now. Any questions you have? Oh! Wait… first,” Joe turned to the siblings, “What do you guys want to do?”

The two siblings turned to each other, looking excitedly to one another before glancing back, “Could we join you? We would love to be apprentices with Garnedell!”

“I’m not…” Joe calmed his ire, speaking with more composure, “I’m not taking apprentices but you can hang around the same as Garnedell and I’ll treat you the same. Fair?”

The two’s sadness at his original statement turned to excited joy when Joe finished and both nodded with vigor, “Yes! Yes! Please!”

Joe smiled and accepted them, “Right. We leave each morning for the dungeon when the sun rises. Join us tomorrow for breakfast at sunrise.”

Kilniara nodded eagerly although Zilnek seemed to be a bit disheartened to hear of the early start to the day although he quickly schooled his face and replaced it with determination. Joe smiled before turning back to Kukurnal.

“OK. Now I’m ready for you. What can I show you?”

Kukurnal quickly sat forward in excitement and began, “The boy and I have been talking,” Kukurnal waved at Garnedell, “and you mentioned this before as well. He speaks of your squiggling meaningless marks in your … book? You call it? I want to know of this reading!”

“Ah… yeah… writing.”

“No! Reading!”

“Sorry, reading is a skill used with writing. Writing is the skill that makes something to read.”

“Ah… so, maybe like a sword and swordsmanship?”

“Maybe a little, although both are skills although writing creates an object and reading is the using of that object.”

“Oh… so a blacksmith making a sword and a swordsman using the sword.”

Joe nodded quickly, “OK… yeah… that might be good.”

“Good,” Kukurnal rubbed his hands and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, “Explain!”

Joe smiled and nodded. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he stood and headed to his room to get his notebooks. Today was going to be a long day. The night went quickly with Kukurnal taking quite a while to grasp the concept but soon excited by it, then overwhelmed when Joe tried to introduce pictographs, numbers, and letters before blowing his mind with multiple different languages, explaining Chinese, Korean, Indonesian, English, and discussing some other south east Asian languages that he knew of but never studied or mastered. Joe had to end the night long before Kukurnal was ready to end it but tomorrow was going to be another long day and he was already tired of arguing about the philosophy of written language, especially as he had never really considered having to argue for its importance or need. Humanity of earth had long seen and accepted its power. Trying to convince a culture that never had it of such was a bit more work than he realized. He finally brought the debate to an end and promised Kukurnal to continue the next night.

Joe made it back to the room, preparing for the evening and quickly finding his mind pulled back to what had happened with the poor slave girl. He understood she was happy where she was at and the inn keep seemed to genuinely care for her. He didn’t really have a problem with it, intellectually, as he understood that slavery originally was intended as another form of social safety net; a way for the poor to be cared for while still being able to ‘pay’ for their way. There were examples of attempts at just forms of slavery in Earth history, but despite that, he still found himself overwhelmingly uncomfortable with the whole issue. His biggest problem came in the way she reacted, and as he settled into take a much longer and more relaxing towel bath, he found his mind picking at the issue obsessively; a dog which refused to give up it’s bone.

He drifted in his thoughts, mind wandering until epiphany hit, and Joe found himself rapidly finishing his towel bath and getting ready for bed, immense discomfort crawling under his skin like insects. It’s a mix of Stockholm Syndrome and that prisoner syndrome… whatever. The one where they can’t make decisions any more, after they get out? They’ve been forced to obey and just do what everyone else told them for years… She was panicking because I was forcing her to choose! Maybe?

Joe found the rest of the evening a disturbing, uncomfortable time of disquiet. Rest isn’t going to be easy tonight!

* * *

The sergeant of the first guard of Baron Grugtrim had long left the city of Coushar but he’d left two of his best trackers behind, one for tracking in the city, more rumormonger and spy master than tracker, and a scout for tracking in the wilderness in case their prey escaped the city. The latter had little to do, but supported the former by maintaining a simple base of operations at a local inn. The spy master spent several more days searching the city and soon found the trail. That night, the spy master made it back with a jubilant bounce in his step and a smile on his face. The scout looked up when the spy master returned to their inn.

“You found them,” the scout stated more than questioned.

“Yes. We confront them tomorrow.”

“Where?”

“They are staying at the Dancing Bard.”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“Yes.”

The scouts smile was nine parts relief and one part predatory.