Chapter 20: There’s No Place Like Home

Bonny Kettleflar’s sleep was unsurprisingly restless. Her nightmares were filled with the undead. The walking death followed after her between each heartbreak in life. They pursued her through cities, countrysides, and farmlands. An endless chase she couldn’t escape.

She awoke, dampened by sweat, to the crowing of roosters. The sun wasn’t even out yet! One rooster in particular, with a frosty blue colored crest, had taken up residence beneath her room’s window at the Hearth and Tav'.

He had deemed this a good spot for his beautifully annoying birdsong. It was certainly unique. Each crow call started off with gradual cracking noises that turned into sharp bellows. Like carefully stepping onto the ice over a lake before taking a running jump into breaking the entire surface. All mixed into the noise of a rooster call. His crow was so loud and distinctive that she took a peek out the window just to make sure the place wasn’t being attacked by some sort of early-bird ice mage.

Bonny was half tempted to throw the rooster into the FarWide, to meet the same fate as the pillow. She had a feeling the denizens wouldn’t appreciate all those feathers though. And, truthfully, she would have felt bad.

It was in the Rooster’s nature to be annoying, after all.

She had to get used to it. Ideally, this would be a part of each of her mornings going forward. As long as the adventurers from neighboring towns deemed this Dungeon a threat big enough to handle soon enough.

Despite the sheer exhaustion, that thought kept her up.

That Dungeon was her home.

Adventurer’s weren’t exactly known for their ability to handle scenarios with tact. Brill, though long retired, was a perfect example of that.

When the sun finally rose, she got up and got dressed for the day. It was less of a concrete decision and more like a mechanical motion for her. Like her mind needed some semblance of control, so her body took over. She pulled on a wool sweater and simple trousers. She adorned a deep red riding cloak with a hood, its edges trimmed with black. She opted to leave her hat off, not wanting to draw attention to herself in the early hours. She already had a feeling she might with the color of her cloak, but she didn’t have anything else on hand. It was a fashionable gift from Louie before she left.

Oh, Gods, Louie, Bonny thought to herself. What would Louie say about this? She’d say I was being an idiot.

The thought of worrying Louie almost caused her to curl back up into bed. Bonny shook her head. No, this was for Louie’s sake too. She had encouraged Bonny’s dream.

Bonny dug into her luggage, throwing out everything about the room, seeking out a few items she had packed deep away. To be fair, she didn’t think she would need them until after she had set up shop.

She also pulled out a hard wooden case that contained several small objects. The first being a pair of spectacles. Her Scan Skill automatically kicked in. Words hovered in place above them, identifying them as Line Reading Glasses. Instead of having see-through glass that amplified vision, these reading glasses were fractured into various colored panes, like stained glass windows.

She placed them upon the bridge of her nose, confirming that yes, it was still early morning. She forgot about how terrible these were to look through. They darkened the claustrophobic room even further, into shades of dark red, blue, and green. She couldn’t see anything clearly. Except for the one single thread of light that shone brightly through the green pane of glass in front of her right eye. There was that Leyline she interacted with last night, clearly visible like a thin beacon, situated inside the wall of her room.

The next object was a tiny pair of scissors in a bronze sheath. Being inherently magical, her Scan also activated, identifying these as Edit Blades. She pulled the scissors free from its protective case, like a pair of layered swords, then went over to the wall. She opened the scissors, activated her Control Cut Skill, then snipped in front of the Leyline thread. A spectral white light from both scissor blades slashed into the wall, only visible through her glasses, leaving the wall undamaged, yet the Leyline severed. The threads drooped, no longer pulled taut by whatever distant force compelled them into shape.

Test complete, she set aside the final object, a small copper spyglass. The words, FarScan Scope, hovered above them. These quarters were too cramped to test out this one.

She attached all of them upon leather belt loops, feeling somewhat closer to a proper adventurer.

Now if only she had a proper weapon now…

Bonny only knew of one in the whole town so far. And she doubted Brill would let her borrow it. Instead, she placed the deed within her pocket. She patted at it. This would be good enough.

She threw everything back into her luggage haphazardly, locked the door, and then slid a note under Mally Tav’s door.

Bonny hoped she would be back to pick up her luggage before Mally woke up, but just in case, this note was insurance in case she failed and still needed a place to stay. And insurance in case Brill came looking for her.

The crisp air outside greeted her, along with the noisy frost cock. She shot him a dirty look. He squawked in response, like he was somehow annoyed by her presence, then saunted off to peck at the dirt.

There was some activity at the start of the day, but less than Bonny actually expected. The actual town of Poppymill was concentrated within roughly only a few square miles, though it was extended greatly beyond that distance through various acres of owned lands such as farms, orchards, and hunter lodges.She guesstimated that the town had a population of maybe two to three thousand people, max. A significantly smaller population than the cities up north that Bonny had previously lived in. Her college ‘town’ had neighborhoods bigger than Poppymill.

But wasn’t that what she was trying to get away from?

She began her steep trek up the hill, making sure to avoid the part of town where her uncle resided. She didn’t want to accidentally run into him.

When she got near the cottage, she also intentionally steered away from the path leading up to it. Instead, she gave it a wide berth, going around to the back of the cottage and up a large hill that overlooked it. Here she couldn’t see much of the front and quite a bit of her view was blocked by the wooded area, but she had a somewhat clear line of sight to the backyard. And more importantly, any Leyline activity.

She adorned the Line Reading Glasses, then brought the FarScan Scope to her right eye. Wearing both of these items always felt awkward, but she needed to scout out the Dungeon before she made any brash decisions.

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Sure enough, there were taut Leylines in the ground and air, leading to the cottage. Whether there were more of them compared to yesterday, she didn’t know. She hadn’t exactly expected her new home to be a Dungeon, after all. But there were less Leylines than she expected. Which was a good sign. That possibly meant the Dungeon wasn’t close to Breaking any time soon. Beyond that, she wasn’t sure. While the Line Reading Glasses could somewhat see through solid objects, the Scope couldn’t. Any underground activity would be hidden from her.

She surveyed the backyard area. Words crossed her vision for a moment. She took off the Glasses, then put the Scope back to her eye to get a better view of the Minion she spied.

It wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. It was a skeletal house cat with a faint shadowy aura. The name was concerning. Only intelligent Dungeons were known to give their Minions names. But that usually didn’t happen until the Minions were at higher levels.

The behavior of the Minion was also concerning.

It was repeatedly walking into the Dungeon boundary. It would hit its head, sit on its haunches or tilt its head to the side, then walk into the boundary again.

Bonny felt bad for the little creature.

Such a low level Minion shouldn’t be trying to Break the Dungeon, right?

She lowered the FarScan Scope and thought for a moment.

Bonny had not done much Dungeon delving within her life. The few excursions she had done as a teen under supervision. She had been accompanied by experienced adventurers in heavily curated Dungeons. As such, her knowledge of them was limited by what she had learned during those tours, through school textbooks, or through general folklore. But she knew the intelligence levels of Dungeons could vary greatly. She had heard stories of Dungeons with alien minds that bordered on the edge of madness. Those could be some of the most dangerous. Attempts to communicate with them could result in broken minds. These alien Dungeons would seek to consume and build rapidly without any sense of real goal, spreading like a plague. Or they would lay dormant for centuries, slowly accumulating power in one central location until somebody stumbled upon them.

The oddly repetitive actions of such a seemingly weak Minion, Tiptap, gave her the impression that this could also be a very young Dungeon. Or a very stupid one. Did the Dungeon come up with the name by imitating a sound it had heard?

The appearance of a faintly blue figure in the backyard interrupted her thoughts. She only noticed the figure due to the sun peeking over the mountain, reflecting light off the planetary belt. That gave her just enough light to see by at this distance. She placed the Scope back to her eye.

It was the ghost again. The one that looked like a defenseless grandmother.

No words appeared over the grandmother’s head. Bonny’s Scan ability didn’t activate.

The same thing happened yesterday. At the time, Bonny figured it was because the ghost was beyond her level. While Bonny’s Scan Skill wasn’t the best, it worked for the most part. It had activated when she saw the other two Undead Minions yesterday and it worked just now with Tiptap. Even if Scan didn’t give her much detail, the Skill wouldn’t fail to identify a monster unless that monster was completely beyond her capacity to handle it. Or unless the monster actively suppressed her Skill, which was also generally a sign of a higher level.

Which was why Brill, being an experienced adventurer who also had Scan, immediately went on the attack and focused upon retreat. In his eyes the ghost was a huge threat.

But what if it wasn’t?

Bonny crept closer, shimmying down the hill to get a closer look. She placed the Scope back to her eye, watching to see if the ghost did anything.

The only exception Bonny could think of for why her Scan wasn’t activating was because the ghost wasn’t actually a monster. Which meant it could be an illusion. A trick.

She got closer. Illusions, when Scanned for long enough, tended to dissipate. Especially when they were suspected to be an illusion. After watching it for a moment, nothing happened.

Bonny realized this could be a Dungeon avatar.

Which, again, which made sense. And also made her confused. A stupid Dungeon Core wouldn’t be able to communicate like the grandmother did. And Dungeon Core’s didn’t usually select avatar Powers if they were young. It was a giant opportunity cost and a waste of limited resources that could be better spent on defense or expansion. Most recorded instances of avatars were when Dungeons became large enough to require them for interaction with intelligent species. At which point the Dungeon could be considered a foreign nation capable of trade and warfare.

The grandmother, once again, interrupted Bonny’s thoughts by turning her head to look right at Bonny. The elderly woman peered right through the Scope, squinting in the sunlight. She spoke something that Bonny couldn’t quite hear. Something about…the color blue?

Then the woman let out a cackle before disappearing.

Bonny’s blood ran cold. The Dungeon knew she was here.

The skeletal cat, Tiptap, continued to softly bonk against the Dungeon boundary.

Bonny sighed, gathered up her courage, and approached the front porch. She clambered through the wreckage of the porch roof that had collapsed, picking her way bits of thatch and splintered wood.

The same message from yesterday appeared:

The Dungeon most certainly knew she was here now. No point in being sneaky anymore. Every good trade deal happened when one was direct and asked for what they wanted. It was time for business.

She unsheathed the Edit Blades and held them before her with one hand, then she leaned over the fallen log, and knocked against the open door with the other hand.

Bonny called out. “Anybody home?”

There was a moment without a response. Then what sounded like muffled cursing from somewhere deeper within the home, followed by the stomping of steps and a flurry of activity.

“Just a minute!” An elderly voice called from within. “I’ll be there in just a jiffy!”

There was a long delay.

The grandmother ghost appeared before her in the doorway. Somehow looking to be out of breath. She leaned against the doorway and clearly forced a smile. “Why, just the young lady I wanted to see again! I was just tidying up.”

“Are you the Merryweather Dungeon?” Bonny asked. She held the Edit Blades at the ready. Just in case the Dungeon tried anything. The ghost didn’t acknowledge them or even seem to notice.

“Call me, Ethel, please. I’m afraid we got off to the wrong foot. Why don’t you come on inside?”

“I’m fine here, thank you.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I assume you have much to discuss with me?”

Bonny nodded.

“Quite the chatterbox, aren’t we? Step inside! Oh, but you’ll have to use the back entrance. As you can see,” Ethel gestured around, “we’re currently in the middle of renovating the porch.”

Bonny stood there, not budging. She tightened her grip on the scissors. This felt like a trap. She wasn’t sure what to say. She hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“Oh you poor thing. I can tell you’ve been through a lot. I’ll meet you out by the pergola.”

She faded away.

Bonny breathed deeply. She could do this. She could handle a few skeletons, a house cat, and a grandmother ghost. She had faced worse odds in life.

She walked around the back. Her legs felt stiff. She glanced around every which way, waiting for a trap to be sprung upon her.

Ethel, true to her word, waited beneath the pergola with her hands clasped together at her waist.

“There you are. Don’t be shy. Come on in.” She walked through the back entrance without waiting. “I’ll have Jellybee make some tea. He says he knows how to make a proper cup. You’ll have to let me know if his confidence is placed correctly.”

Bonny followed. Her anxiety spiked. She kept half an eye on the door, making sure she had an escape route.

There clearly had been a fire recently. And there had clearly also been repairs.

In the living area a hearth blazed with emerald WitchPyre. A black cauldron hung over the flames. Her Scan Skill identified it as a Neverwatch Pot with six hours left for cooking. Nothing dangerous would emerge in the meantime. That was a relief.

Below that, there it was. The Dungeon Core. In all her defenseless glory.

This had to be a trap.

“Take a seat and make yourself at home. Because, after all, my dear, this is your home.” Ethel arched an eyebrow and smiled. “Is it not?”

Bonny placed a hand upon the deed in her pocket. “Yes. I have the deed right here. This is my home.”

“Splendid! Let’s not beat around the bush. I want to discuss the terms of my employment.”