Chapter 26: Wine and Aunt

Bonny didn’t find Brill at his home or his usual worksite. She eventually found him at The Hearth and Tav’ eating breakfast. It would appear he was a regular. Or there weren’t a whole lot of other good options at this time of day.

“Good morning, uncle.” She sidled up to him at the bar. “I have news.”

“You went to the Dungeon, didn’t you?”

Her eyes widened. She glanced about to make sure nobody had heard him. She whispered, “I thought we wanted to keep it on the down low?”

“It don’t matter. I already chatted with Waye about it.”

Her posture slackened. She rested her head face down in her arms on the bar. She groaned.

“You want food?”

“Sure.”

He signaled to Mally Tav. Who, once again, put on her best ‘pick-me’ airs. It was gross to witness this early. I hadn't even had my morning coffee yet.

Naturally, Brill seemed oblivious.

After that ordeal, Brill went back to chatting like business was usual. “Don’t worry. Waye ain’t a gossip. And he’s not sending out letters to the nearby towns yet.”

Bonny turned her head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

Brill finished his meal first before he said anything. "Well, I had done some thinking. You probably don't want strangers trampling over your lawn and rummaging through drawers. So I figure we wait on notifying the adventuring guilds. I figured instead I’d have Waye reach out to a proper professional. One that knows the ins and outs of the place."

“You don’t mean?” Bonny gulped.

He nodded. “My big sis.”

Bonny winced and sat up quickly.

“It was her home. She won’t make a mess of it. She’ll clear out that Dungeon in no time. Only trick is getting a hold of her. But Waye has the Skills to do so. If she’s got the time I reckon she’ll be back in town in a week or two, tops.”

Bonny pointed at Brill’s chin. “You’ve got some food in your beard.”

He wiped the gunk off with a sleeve.

Bonny’s food arrived. Fried eggs and hash. Unseasoned. And were the potatoes overcooked? That took real skill. Or real pettiness. She still tried her best to eat the provided meal.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Brill stated.

“Are you mad at me?”

He shrugged. “I ain’t your dad. You’re an adult. You didn’t get yourself killed. That’s all that I can ask for.”

“I could have died though.”

“And you didn’t. How’d it go? Clear it out?”

Bonny chuckled nervously. “Not exactly. I may have accidentally, uh, negotiated with the Dungeon.”

Brill’s eyebrow lifted. “That’s rare. What are the terms?”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Room and lodging for employment?”

“Bad idea. You shouldn’t work for a Dungeon. Especially one that uses undead. You’ll be enslaved for eternity.”

“Uh, not exactly. You see… I’m the employer. I think.”

He rested his chin on his arm. He looked incredulous. It was the most expressive she’d ever seen him. “You became the Dungeon Master? In one morning? With nothing to bargain?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. It’s all very confusing. I don’t think it’s official yet. The System would have notified me, right?”

“That’s right. The Dungeon would have given you that Title.”

Bonny twirled her fork in her food. “I think the Dungeon is just as confused as I am. If not more.”

“You plan to go back to it. Today?”

Bonny nodded.

“To live in it?” He asked.

She nodded again. She awaited a reprimand.

Instead Brill looked thoughtful for a moment. “Is your luggage still here?”

“Yes. Upstairs.”

“Let’s go have a talk with this Dungeon.”

****

“Took ya long enough, ya old hanky panky handbag.” Jimbo-no said upon seeing us enter the cellar. His words slurred. “I kept hollerin’. I almost thought ya had forgotten about me!”

The skeleton man hiccuped.

It was as I had feared.

I stepped over the door still laying upon the ground. “That’s because I had.”

“Buuullsheet. Ya hear everythin’ here.” He motioned around with a wine bottle.

I smirked at him.

“Grandma’s always do,” Jellybee stated with reverence. “You can’t hide anything from them.”

Tiptap had jumped off his mushroom halfway down the stairs. His wobbling had offended the dainty skeletal beast. She joined her ghost clone upstairs to curl around the other side of my Core, like a strange black and white karma symbol made of cats.

"I may have forgotten on purpose."

“I knew it!” Jimbo-no hiccuped again. “Yer an evil broad that enjoys suffrage. Sulfur. Mhm, no…”

“Suffering,” Jellybee said.

Jimbo-no mocked a drinking toast to that, then took a big swig. Red wine dribbled down his ribs and into the wine rack, before spilling out onto the floor.

“Yes,” I said. “But there’s a limit to how much I can put up with your so-called ‘suffering.’”

It was true that Jimbo-no had a broken foot. Lucille, in her rampage, had thrown him feet first into the wall above the wine rack. Several metatarsals and phalanges had shattered upon impact. Other tarsal bones had gone flying. And that was where Jimbo-no had gotten all tangled up.

Feet were surprisingly complex machinery. Even if we recovered all the scattered bits, he wouldn’t be able to use that foot to walk anymore.

On the other hand (or foot), he hadn’t exactly tried to leave his new wine rack crib at all. Several broken bottles had accumulated below him.

He had no stomach, liver, or even blood. Could skeletons even get drunk?

The answer was apparently yes. Yes they could.

“Bonny will be returning any minute now. And we’ll want to impress our new boss with what we can do. So enough drinking on the job. We’ve got work to do.”

I snapped my fingers twice for emphasis.

“She didn’t get Lucie goosed? And yer still kickin’ about. You ain’t lyin’! Woowie, that’s..." He took another sip. "...Swell! Too bad I can’t kick it too.” He pointed to his broken foot.

I groaned. I hated dealing with drunkards. “Jellybee, be a dear and get this drunk idiot down from there.”

“No!” Jimbo-no thrashed. “No, chef! DON’T PUT ME IN THE POT!”

“Oh hush. You’re not going in there. I found another solution.”

Besides, there wasn’t any more room in the Neverwatch Pot. Two mostly grown men wouldn't fit in a cauldron that size.

I Gardencrafted forth a squat stick. Which only drained two of my Mana. Strange how different objects had different costs. I would have thought a solid piece of stick would cost more loose thatching. I guess it might have been because the blueprint was improvised off of one of the wooden chairs from the kitchen.

“You’re going to get a peg,” I said with a smile.

“YER GONNA WHAT TO ME?” Miraculously the one eyed seaman was able to clamber off the wine rack without issue. “NO, I DON’T CONSENT!”

He clanged the wine bottle against the rack, as if he was trying to turn it into a glass weapon.

It didn't break. Wine bottles were surprisingly tough at times.

He stared at it in confusion. Then he toppled over on his bad side, into the pile of broken bottles.

At least some things were going well for me.