Blood welled where the crumpled paper cut into my hand, its words burned irrevocably into my mind. Hopeful words, but ones with a hidden edge. The Guild’s overseers would promote one of us basement-minders to the upper floors, with a simple contest. A favorite tactic of theirs. Anything to promote competition and incentivize us to increase our earnings, and their eventual cut. The goal? To earn a thousand gold pieces, the price of a good horse, in thirty-one days.

That would be problematic. As a recent graduate to Journeyman rank in The Surveyor’s Guild, regulations forbid me to charge more than a pittance for my services. A tactic of the higher-ranked members upstairs, to make certain everyone worked hard to expand their self-promotion skills.

The thought of the upper floors made me shiver more than the cold air that invaded The Guild Hall’s dingy basement. Memories of comfortable plush chairs and warm fireplaces continued to torment me.

Two weeks prior, The Council forced my master to end my education. Which meant the higher-ups now expected me to start from the bottom rung of The Guild.

They permitted no such luxuries on the lower floors. More motivation, at least according to The Guild Leaders. They enjoyed telling us at every opportunity: suffering builds determination, and determination brings success. Not that they did the suffering. My Master was one of the rare few who bothered to adventure regularly anymore.

One surveyor attempted to start a betting pool. An elderly human, he claimed that none of the newest recruits could draw an accurate map.

None of us lucky enough to get tutelage dared take the bet.

As the basement door shrieked open, there was an audible intake of breath. Backs cracked as surveyors straightened, each hungry for potential profit.

This was my chance. A client! A payday. Four lizardkin stomped into the hall, each draped in bloodied animal-skin loincloths and carrying large axes.

Their outfits showed them for what they were — Barbarians. That breed of adventurer focused on the hunt, the kill, the wilds. They needed to track the biggest and meanest monsters to prove themselves worthy, and didn’t care about the potential consequences.

As a group, the other surveyors leaned backward or started whispered conversations, leaving me as the sole occupant of the room, attempting to catch the leaders’ eye. His emerald scales glistened in the flickering torchlight as he stomped towards me, his snarling gang in tow.

The surveyor sitting to my left darted off, cowardly, but not surprising given this type of adventurers’ preferred job type. Oh well, more for me. With a roar that showed off broken and yellow fangs, the leader smashed a clawed fist into my table.

My warmest smile sprang into place in response, as wood chips burrowed into my flesh. Stellar customer service was key to repeat business.

The line my Master drilled into me throughout my training came out in my calmest voice.

“Welcome to the Surveyors’ guild. What can I find for you today?”

The sheer volume of the leader’s threats almost knocked me from my seat. Only the bodies of his cronies that surrounded me kept me upright. On instinct, my shoulders hunched, and my body trembled. They would expect signs of weakness, and not displaying the required reactions would cause trouble.

As they continued to scream, my mind wandered. What would it be like to eventually have decent clients? Visions of female lizardkin, dressed in less blood-soaked garb, came to mind. Each carrying bulging sacks overflowing with coins.

No needless screaming, beautiful women, good pay. It allowed me to keep my act together, despite the bombardment of vitriol.

Once the threats and general insults to my weak stature concluded, we sat around the broken table and discussed the details. My task was to travel north to the Minnius Maze, named after its guardian minotaur, located deep within The Wilds.

Upon arrival, discovering everything possible about Minnius was the top priority. How she fought, her weaknesses, her strengths. They also demanded access to any maps created during the journey.

It was tempting to explain the Mazes’ ever-shifting nature, but it wouldn’t matter. Divine Magics changed the layout once a month, thus if they were quick, the maps should be usable.

The payment came to fifteen gold coins and a parting threat. Barely enough to pay my rent, meaning another week of eating scraps. Still, my eagerness to go outweighed my caution.

My Master’s eye always twinkled whenever she ruminated on her run-ins with Minnius. Her descriptions made me keen to meet the monster. A minotaur was a rare sight. The gods banished them long ago, and they were only recently returning to Phayun, and none before were born Soul Bound.

The other surveyors filled the basement with whispers and complaints, but none raised a hand to stop me from shouldering my way outside. Sunlight glinting off my rusted sword drew in smirking glances from the richer passersby, but it barely registered.

My mind laser-focused on the task ahead.

***

Neither guard spoke as the palisade clanged shut behind me.

Isolation filled me as the silent path stretched out into the distance. It wasn’t a serene walk, however. Danger still lurked in every ditch and bend.

Though the Kingdom attempted to force civilization on the surrounding areas, it didn’t always work. Violent raids and the shipping off of undesirables kept the numbers down, although weaker monsters still tried their luck sneaking into dens nearby. A common tale spoke of the King’s tax collectors.

When a traveler discovered one of his favorites ripped and bloody by the side of the road, his fury was legendary. The palace summoned the Adventurer’s Guild's top strategist and trapped them with the King’s own council for several days. She left with a new decree that caught everyone’s attention.

A promise from The Crown. They would pay anyone able to hold a sword, who was willing to go and clear the lands outside the walls. In their excitement, thousands took up arms. From shop boys to town guards, people left to line their pockets.

Everyone in the kingdom ate well that month. Both due to the extra meat, and the plummeting number of mouths to feed.

Though, no matter the amount of raids or crusades, some monsters survived. Thus, it never hurt to be prepared. My days spent scouring the city for an apprentice blacksmith, willing to sharpen a sword for a steep discount, paid off.

Over the next two days, multiple beasts after a quick snack ambushed me. As enemies went, the blood-draining Batfox was the easiest. Their furry bodies offered little defense, and if you dodged their acidic bite, they couldn’t do much with their claws.

The carnivorous squirrels, Yuliops, were a different matter. They roamed in packs, deadly, and determined. Escape was the best strategy to outwit them, combined with hiding in stinking ditches, covering myself in dead leaves and animal carcasses. They weren’t scavengers and enjoyed their meat fresh.

On the last hill, the discomfort from my bruises, scratches and bloodied nose dulled to near nothing as the breathtaking view filled my vision. Gargantuan white and gold stones formed walls that sprawled out towards the horizon. A veritable maze of the gods, and one fitting to hold the newest Minotaur.

Two golden pillars thicker than the greatest oak tree flanked the entrance, each topped with a flag bearing the red and gold porcupine — the standard of the current King. Without thinking, my hand rose, and my index finger outstretched in the peasants’ customary gesture to start the Kings’ prayer.

“May you not die, eat well, and sleep soundly.”

Letting my gaze wander to check the coast was clear. My hand fell to my side.

“And let us poor workers follow suit.”

As the words evaporated into the air, the shining pillars caught my attention. Melted down, the ornate poles would be worth millions. While tempting, it was an impossible dream. Without a caravan of wagons, transporting them back to the city would be impossible. Even if the means were available, they looked solidly rooted into the ground.

Numerous adventurers before me would have passed between them, and if famous for anything, it was looting. Thus, if they remained, someone had sealed them in place. Plus, they bore the King’s banner, so taking them would annoy The Crown.

Everything in the kingdom was his by right, so it was they were technically his possessions. If not for the protection Adventurers offered, and treasures they returned from the mountains with, speculators whispered, the King would execute the highest-ranked as a message.

My eyes traced along the branching paths formed by the walls, marveling at how they created full shapes: from varying phases of the moon to leaping fish and blooming flowers.

When my wandering gaze found the center, confusion raced through me. It should have been impossible to miss. An obsidian obelisk thrust up from the maze, its tip pushing into the few clouds that drifted overhead. So black, it drew in the light, casting everything ten feet around it into shadow. By studying the layout, it became rapidly clear that the obelisk would be the single marker anyone could use inside the maze, though it offered no hints at what mysteries lay at its base.

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Though it wouldn’t be a surprise if Minnius rested there. That was often the way. For unknown reasons, spots of power and splendor drew in the more intelligent Monsters.

My inks and papers were undamaged from my trip across the wilderness. Not a single quill broken, which my Master claimed as a good sign. With a flick of my wrist, a simple star marked the dungeon’s entrance on the map.

Time to earn my keep.

***

The height of the walls blocked out the sun, enveloping the corridors in darkness. As the light vanished, my guess was that the temperature would drop as quickly. Instead, it increased to an uncomfortable degree. Sweat dripped down my face, and my skin burned whenever it brushed against the stone.

Whatever these stones were, they perfectly trapped the warmth from the sun, distributing the heat throughout the tunnel. Though, whether this was a trap for Minnius, or Adventurers wearing full plate, was a mystery. Lizardkin were cold-blooded, so this alone might draw them, with no information about the maze’s guardian.

With no means to overcome the oppressive heat, my new goal switched to dealing with the darkness. My master’s instructions for the trick were simple to follow: close your eyes, circulate your mana, and calm your breathing.

A tender burning sensation started behind my eyes, proving it worked. While my magic was pitiful, enough mana imbued my soul for this simple, dark vision spell.

When growing up, my dream was wielding powerful magic. To cast spells and summon forces like the mages that worked the teleportation gate. However, after seeing multiple spell-based accidental suicides. That dream died. Hard. Magic was a nasty way to go.

My eyes watered with pain as the darkness brightened to dim light. Not perfect, but preferable over a lantern, giving away my position to nearby monsters. None of the reports depicted Minnius keeping pets, but it couldn’t hurt to be careful.

None of the stones that made up the floor appeared different from the walls, but still, my steps remained light. Elder Surveyors whispered stories of spike pits and pressure plates that would launch darts or blades. No reason for an avoidable express trip back home. Nothing triggered, but that didn’t guarantee safety, as something stomped and huffed at the edge of my perception.

The first split in the path offered two options. The left path sloped downwards, while the right veered from view not ten feet further down. A friend of my Master claimed he always followed the rule of lefts in Mazes. After a right turn found him standing before a starving, semi-translucent bear.

A majority of his stories were rubbish, but his descriptions of being lost and confused when he tried to escape made me wary. Besides, it wasn’t wise to disregard advice from my seniors no matter how questionable, a lesson my Master beat into me daily. After several more lefts, the corridor stopped, and a mural materialized from the gloom. Small and painted with clear haste, yet beautiful in these stark surroundings.

My heart skipped a beat. A sign of treasure? Paintings and other wall markers often depicted hidden alcoves containing spoils. My slow pace crept to a crawl, coming to a stop once the image came into view.

It depicted a brilliant blood-red rose growing from a strip of dirt. And upon seeing the soft colors, my breath caught as realization hit; no signs of life appeared anywhere in the maze. Not a patch of moss, nor a blade of grass. Everything was stone, rough, and dark. An intense urge for the sun's warmth overtook me, and my hand traced the curve of the flower’s petals.

It was warm to the touch but didn’t burn my fingers. The rough stone was at odds with the soft look of the plant. A contrast that caused me to pause, eyes fixated on the surrounding walls.

What would living surrounded by stone do to a person? Never seeing the outside? Never knowing the touch of grass?

Shivers ran along my spine at the terrible thought. While my job was deadly, the travel was nice.

“Do you like it?”

My legs locked up as the voice called out. Feminine, powerful. Subtle undertones invaded the voice as well — curiosity?

The sounds of hooves on stone stomped closer, stopping closer than was comfortable.

“Is it that bad? I know the color might be off. It’s hard to find paints in here.”

“No.” The word crawled up my throat, but when it left my lips, a gut instinct told me to continue.

“It’s beautiful.”

Adrenaline flooded my body, even though my brain stayed oddly calm. Not that running would help. She was too close and too powerful. A chase would lead to nothing but being tired before death claimed me.

She giggled, and something smashed into the stone walls, echoing around the corridor. A weapon? My bones cracked with the force it took to face the monster. Breath caught in my throat, as a choked gasp died before it could make it into the open air. The stories spoke of her size and build, but none captured the truth.

Minnius was titanic, her presence filling the surrounding space. Her powerful furred legs rocketed her into the sky, and with each landing, her cloven hooves created tremors and launched dust into the air. Her curved horns scraped the walls as her long, tangled mess of hair whipped about in a frenzy.

It reminded me of an excited child receiving her first compliment.

Not that anything else about Minnius was childlike, as the rather revealing two-piece hide outfit showed. My focus lingered on her form, finding it hard to tear my gaze away. She was a lot to take in.

Three words entered my head: Indomitable. Powerful. Voluptuous.

To my disappointment, she stopped her joyful jumping and turned to me. Her expression became coy as she saw me watching her, and she winked.

“Enjoying more than the art?”

No verbal response was forthcoming, but she appeared happy enough with my jerking nod. Minnius sauntered forward, ample hips swinging before she shoved me back into the wall. Her muscular hand shot out, slamming next to my head as she smirked at my obvious discomfort.

“Do you wish to flee? Everyone else tried. Not that it helped them.”

An interesting question, one whose answer changed the longer her piercing brown eyes stared into mine. The stupid option would be to agree and attempt to flee. Maybe the maze contained a narrower passageway she couldn’t enter, allowing me to escape? The guild-sanctioned option would be to follow through with my job, attack her, and then note down her fighting style once respawned.

A feeling told me there might be a third option, open solely to me.

“No, I don’t. What did you mean about the paints?”

Her head cocked to the side, her hair falling over one eye. A sudden urge to brush it aside came over me, but my muscles seized at the thought. She might view any sudden move as threatening. If she did, she’d break me like a twig.

Her answer was slow to come. “Few carry any, which limits my supply.” Her posture straightened, and she took a step back. “This was my latest piece, a tucked-away rose. A symbol of hidden beauty, I read that in a book carried by an elf in a dumb feathered hat.”

She was talking. Good. Maybe this might work.

“Have you done more?”

Excitement shone in her grin before she nodded. “All around the obelisk. One woman, a cat person, carried a full tin with her. But that’s run out recently.” Her smile faltered as she leaned in once more and whispered. “Would you like to see?”

In times like these, learning that customer service smile was a godsend.

“Lead on.”

***

Art covered the walls around her bed of furs and stolen bedrolls. Various walls depicted a rapid improvement in skill. Stick figures covered the parts nearest where she slept, turning into landscapes and depictions of her few books as we moved further out.

Minnius explained the story behind each and delighted in me copying them down. They weren’t for the report. No one else knew these stories, and now, if something happened to her, they wouldn’t vanish.

When we reached the last one, the stories paused. The picture depicted a fearsome minotaur, wearing what appeared to be a silver crown. Her shoulders slumped as she looked at him, her expression sorrowful. She knew him.

Her tone was soft, sad, and respectful. My quill stopped. This wasn’t a story meant to be recorded by someone like me.

“The Labyrinth King. Banished to the mazes of the underworld. An outstanding leader, impressive enough to allow me to escape. I miss him.”

No appropriate words came to me, so silence reigned as we stared at the King of the Minotaurs. Minnius broke the silence after what felt like hours.

“Can you get me more paint?”

“Yes, but for a favor.”

While sparse, a few trinkets and treasures littered the cavern. Leftovers from dead Adventurers. The foremost reason My Master taught me to attach everything possible to my belt. You only revived with what you carried.

She noticed where my gaze was going.

“It’s yours. I don’t need it, not really. They’re pretty, but compared to paints...” Minnius trailed off wistfully.

“You may have to fight for them. A few lizardkin will bring them. Strong adventurers, with big axes and bigger egos.”

Laughter filled the air, so pretty from such an intimidating woman.

“That won’t be a problem.”

There was no doubt in my mind that she spoke the truth. With the treasures placed neatly into my satchel, my hand raised to shake on our deal. Minnius laughed again. In a heartbeat, she scooped me up into a hug. Smothered into soft brown skin, my nose filled with her scent — all the odors of the wilds.

More pleasant than expected.

Her hug tightened, and my bones creaked. She ignored my struggling, her powerful arms wrapping me tighter with each passing second. A rib popped, and instead of letting me go, she sang a lullaby.

Though sung in a foreign language, the words were calming even as my bones splintered. The last image my brain conjured before the final rupture was of her excited smile.

[https://i.imgur.com/bUMWPRb.png]

ADDITIONAL NOTES

As the first of these extra notes, I would say this. If you learn anything from these, it’s that not every monster is evil.

Can and will kill you? Yes.

Evil? No.

While I didn’t return to the labyrinth, whispers of paints used as bait are everywhere. For any future adventurers, this would be my advice.

Don't ruin the drawings on the walls. While they are not guides, they are beloved by the inhabitant. She doesn’t have much. Give her this.

Honest compliments will get you everywhere. Not to safety necessarily, but you might see things you wouldn’t otherwise.

So wander the labyrinth’s gallery and wonder while you do.

Is the art as pretty as the artist?