Chapter 17: Potential Customers
Fortunately, or possibly unfortunately, none of Shiba’s opponents had died. While she was deciding what to do about her current situation, tentacles spawned and carefully healed up the unconscious men to a point where they’d be able to survive on their own. Apparently, DM had caught on to what was going on and decided to help out.
Shiba commanded her dragon skeleton to lay down behind her and then leaned back against it, taking advantage of its ability to cleanse all who touch it. She wasn’t in need if its minor healing benefits, but it would be nice to feel like she’d just climbed out of a clean bath directly following a grizzly battle.
Once she was satisfied, Shiba decided to be a bit charitable. She had her dragon skeleton march around the battlefield, resting its tail against her fallen enemies, one by one. As she watched, the blood and other grime sizzled away, leaving behind clean, if not torn, armor and clothing. She even had it rest its stomach on the pools of blood to purify them. Afterward, droplets of blood remained around the battlefield, but they’d wash away naturally.
Shiba was going to continue on her journey of practicing necromancy in the forest, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t have an urge to secretly watch the guys wake up and react to the fact that they were inexplicably clean despite all the carnage of a little while ago.
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Reese’s party crouched in the brush not far from the entrance to the Upper Gordu Dungeon. They noticed a lone mage milling about near the entrance. “Hm?”
“Reese, what’re you gonna do?”
“Whatever. Let’s just approach.” He led the group into the clearing and was soon spotted by the mage. Reese noticed her eyes passing between each of them, seemingly focusing on their animal-like adornments.
“Can I help you?” she queried.
“Miss, is there any reason why we can’t enter the dungeon?” Reese asked.
“I don’t see why not. Where did you all come from? I don’t recognize you, despite your many memorable features…”
Reese gestured with one arm toward himself and his fellow party members. “We’re adventurers from the Grand Dutchy of Crystrand. I’m Reese. May I ask your name?”
“Wow, that’s so far south. I’m Grace the Fearless.”
“…The Fearless?” Reese parroted back.
“Yes! I was dubbed as such by the dungeon master here.”
Reese glanced at his party and then back at Grace. “How commendable. What is the dungeon master like?”
“He’s a dragon.”
“Oh.” Reese found her casual response somewhat disconcerting. “Do you think the dragon will mind if we explore the dungeon and visit him at the bottom?”
“Not at all!” Grace reassured him. “In fact, he said people from Crystrand are the tastiest!”
Reese paused for a few moments and then turned around to face the other way. “Done!” he shouted.
“Reese, what do you mean?” a companion asked.
Reese started walking south. “I’m going home.”
“But the Incinerator…”
Reese shook his head without looking back. “I’d rather get incinerated than put up with this any longer.”
Eventually, the rest of his party fell into step behind him.
“Was it something I said…?” Grace mumbled to herself.
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DM’s spies noticed a group approaching the Lower Gordu Dungeon. They seemed less like adventurers and more like a VIP being escorted by his retinue. They entered the dungeon purposefully.
“Can I help you?” Olivia asked, nervously looking around and noticing no morphlings in sight.
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“Yes, we’re here to buy special plows.”
“Um, excuse me? Ah, did you check in with the Guild before coming here?”
The gentleman, dressed well although not well enough to look like a noble, removed his hat. “No, we’re not here to adventure or anything like that. We are simply here on business and did not consider it necessary to directly involve the Guild. Of course, we would be happy to send a runner to notify the Guild of everything that transpires here, or you’re free to observe as well.”
“I see…” Olivia chose her next words carefully. “Even so, th—“
“We have the lord’s permission, of course.” The gentleman spoke over Olivia’s carefully chosen words. “Come, please introduce us to the dungeon master.”
“Well…”
“…I am a morphling who speaks on behalf of the dungeon master.” A monster mimicking an adventurer stepped into the room. “…You said you have permission to conduct business here without involving the Guild?”
“Yes, of course. We’re all upstanding gentlemen, and we’re here to make the matter worth your while, of course. In fact—“
“…Show me.”
“—I’m prepared to… what?”
“…Show me the lord’s permission.”
“Oh, uh, I do not have anything in writing. These matters have been developing quickly and addressed via conversations, I’m sure you understand. Certainly, an incredible monster like yourself would prefer direct, personal conversations over bureaucracy and overly formal written correspondence, no? I’m prepared to purchase or trade for quite a large number of those—”
“…If this were a world where a simple farmer’s annual tax return was a book in and of itself, I’d be inclined to agree with you. Unless you have a 30 page user agreement for me to scroll to the bottom of before clicking next, I think I’m going to insist we do things the proper way from now on.”
“I… I’m afraid I don’t understand. Don’t you want to sell your wonderful plows?”
“…Why don’t you come back tomorrow with a verifiable document from Lord Davidson granting you permission to buy my plows?”
The gentleman looked at his companions for help, but they made faces silently communicating don’t look at me. “We can do that. We can return tomorrow, although it would be more advantageous for us, and possibly much more advantageous for you, if you could at least make a preliminary deal with us now.”
“…I am awaiting a response from the crown regarding my first offer. They should get first dibs. …However, if you return tomorrow, and the letter is genuine, you’ll just need to conquer my dungeon in order to place an order.”
“We need to… conquer your dungeon…?”
“…Yes. The order form is resting on a slab of rock floating on a fountain of lava surrounded by greater demons.”
“I, uh, will see what I can do. It’s quite unfortunate that we couldn’t come to terms today. I do hope you don’t regret the missed opportunity.” The man turned on his heel and exited the dungeon, making a point of glaring at Olivia as he passed. The other men followed him out.
Olivia stepped over to the morphling. “Are you sure that was all right? That man is an influential farmer in this region.”
“…It doesn’t matter. I doubt he’ll be able to get any type of proof that he has permission to cut in line in front of the king. …Regardless, I’ll give you an escort for when you return to the Twin Cities today. I wouldn’t want any of those guys doing anything stupid.”
“An escort? I’m a bit afraid to ask, but like what?”
“Whatever you want. They’ll get you to within sight of the city gate.”
Olivia had a weird decision to make. Ultimately she settled on one each of a fox, dog, and cat. DM offered to throw in a jackalope riding a scorpion riding a chickbear riding a worm, but she humbly declined.
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Just as DM was repelling the group of potential customers, Vulp finished her proposal and provided it to Lord Davidson for review. He received it from her and read it quietly while she waited.
“Hm, yes, this is just as you said. We’ll accept DM’s offer to purchase special plows on behalf of the kingdom, but only request two more. One will be retained here in the Twin Cities region, and the other will be sent to the southwest of the kingdom, somewhere near Draveguard.”
Vulp nodded along silently.
“Your write-up is sufficiently detailed but lacks a good introduction as well as some perspective. Honestly, you wrote it as though you expect DM himself to review it…”
Vulp’s heart sank for a moment. “I…”
“Oh, don’t worry. I realize it is a lot to expect you to take charge of such matters so early in your education. I’ll take care of the rest. You did a great job, Vulp.”
“Thank you.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Enter.”
A man opened the door and stepped into the office, eyeing Vulp before approaching Lord Davidson and whispering some words directly into his ear.
“Wait, how do you know this!?”
The man took a few steps back and lined up alongside Vulp. “An off-duty guard overheard a couple of them speaking and reported it immediately.”
“Hm, all right. Tell nobody else,” Lord Davidson instructed.
The man nodded and departed the room.
“How foolish…” The lord muttered to nobody in particular.
Vulp tilted her head, not intending to solicit an explanation, but the Lord of the Twin Cities seemed to take it as such.
“Oh, I mean us. Them too, but more so us.”
Vulp tilted her head yet a bit further, causing him to chuckle.
“Some fools tried to conduct secret business with DM, attempting to buy plows I assume. I should have realized they would make a move like that. I’m going to need to revise the preamble to your written plan a bit more than I thought…”
Vulp was glad Lord Davidson had already agreed to take care of the matter personally from here. She didn’t want him to throw this issue back in her lap again.
“Thank the gods the dungeon master was wise enough to send them away.” He crossed his hands in front of him and stared up at the ceiling. “If we don’t handle this matter delicately, it really could tear this kingdom in two.”
Vulp didn’t want to get caught in the middle of something like that, and she imagined DM didn’t either.