Tamiel woke up bright and early - or so he hoped. It was too dangerous to stay on the first floor and check the light flooding into the cave. He would get killed in his sleep by bloodthirsty adventurers. He yawned, stretching his green arms. Rubbing his eyes, he slowly stood up from his bed of flowers, taking a drink of murky water.

The concept of sleeping was both new and old to him. Despite only recently learning what it was from Lyla, he felt like he had done this his whole life, and only when he was summoned did he forget how to sleep. He didn’t particularly need to sleep, but he always felt better when he did, and what was more important than that?

He got dressed in the common Brevusian garb - a rabbit pelt shirt and deerskin pants. He adjusted his silver necklace depicting the moon to hang over the shirt. It was supposed to be the holy symbol of Hellevia, the god of night, but he liked how it looked.

He had no armour or weapons to carry. He was weak enough that anything could easily kill him even if he carried them. His only piece of protection was a ring of a snake biting its own tail, its two eyes glowing with a ruby red light.

As always, he started from the first floor. He walked into the guardian room, saying hello to Xeel. He spent most of his time with his eyes closed, deep in meditation. Roused from his trance, Xeel lurked closer to Tamiel, circling him. A little-known fact was that Xeel was much smarter than the rest of the goblins combined, but no matter how much Tamiel spoke to him, he never responded. It took a while to realise that Xeel was intently listening to each of his words and that even he enjoyed the occasional company.

After informing Xeel of what was new in the dungeon, he proceeded onwards. He greeted the various goblins and their warrior counterparts, seeing new faces every day. He stopped to chat with each of them for minutes on end until he arrived at the arena room. Tamiel sighed, memories flooding back to him. He shook his head, walking next to a tall goblin.

“Good morning, Blade. How’s it going?” Tamiel spoke each word fluently, placing an accent at the end of each word. It took him a while to get used to it, but once he figured it out, it was smooth sailing from there. The key to learning was practice.

“Good enough. I’m training this bloke. He’s survived for ten days now. He’s a strong one.” Blade’s voice was rough and guttural, just like the rest of the goblins. He took to the language lessons well, though it sometimes slipped from him. He spent most of his day talking with other goblins. The goblin language involved lots of grunts, shouts and physical tussles.

“Have you thought about what I said? I’ll do my best to help you, I promise.” Tamiel looked at the newcomer. The goblin was of short stature, but his eyes had the same cunning glint he had seen in Lyn when he was still a regular goblin. He was taking on three other goblins at the same time, pitting them against each other when possible.

“I can’t. I’m not like Lyn or Artorius over there. I’ve heard that even Zagon has made something of himself, but I’ve squandered my chance. Besides, would Viv name another goblin when he has a floor full of ifrit?” Blade sighed, sitting down on the ground. He took out a whetstone from his pouch and started sharpening his blade. Now that Tamiel thought about it, he had never seen Blade with a rusty weapon no matter how many times he changed them.

“That goblin has a lot of potential. Ten days of training for it all to vanish when he dies.” Tamiel sighed, glancing at the goblin. He held back tears, lamenting their cruel fate. “It’s your choice after all.” Leaving those words behind, he passed the arena, heading into a smaller stone room flooded with sunlight.

From here, he could hear the shouts of adventurers outside, smell the different scents of spices and meats offered to those coming back from the cave. Sometimes, he liked to just sit there and listen to the outside world, wondering what it was like.

He went to greet Artorius but stopped halfway. An adventuring party had come into the dungeon - D ranks if Tamiel was to judge. Artorius drew his arming sword and bowed to a nervous warrior, his hands shaking.

Despite mastering two stages of aura control, Artorius wasn’t using any of it here. He met the young adventurer in single combat, exchanging blow after blow. Tamiel whistled in appreciation of Artorius’ skills. He gracefully parried blow after blow, pressing the offence when given the chance. Only after a minute of trading blows, Artorius knocked the adventurer’s sword out of his hands.

The rest of the party tensed up, raising their weapons. The adventurer scrambled back, yelling in fear, but the supposed blow never came. Artorius sheathed his sword, nodding at the swordsman. Then, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. The adventurers cautiously observed him, and after several minutes of tense discussion, they proceeded further into the cave.

Tamiel had snuck across the room while the party was distracted, hiding himself away in a shadowy corner. Only when they left did he stand up, waving at Artorius. He cracked open one of his eyes and nodded.

“Good morning. Most of the adventurers here don’t give you any trouble anymore, huh?” Tamiel observed the sheathed sword, noting the engraved runes he saw earlier.

“Bad thing. Can’t improve anymore with weak swordsmen. Need to wait for C ranks now. Or Noe. Noe sometimes teaches me.” Artorius drew his blade once again, slashing at the air. Tamiel often saw him fighting the air, and to his surprise, losing.

“Maybe you can start teaching the adventurers now,” Tamiel laughed, resisting the urge to poke Artorius. It was those little habits that separated him from others. “Or you can teach Blade. He said he wanted to learn more from you.”

“You lie. I’ve tried to teach him many times. He doesn’t have the drive to learn. He will never get an aura like that.” Artorius glanced at the other room, a scowl on his face. Tamiel thought long and hard about what that expression could mean. His only conclusion was that it was shame and pity, but not for himself.

“Heard anything interesting today? I’m glad you didn’t have to kill those adventurers.” Tamiel sadly smiled, leaning against the wall. He listened to the sounds of combat further ahead. Blade would most likely die. It would be good if he was a bit stronger - it would discourage those weaker to not proceed onwards. The fire magic goblin killed too many.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

They chatted for close to an hour, Tamiel leading the conversation. He didn’t learn much, but it was pleasant to chat with his brothers, to make sure everything was alright. He waved goodbye to Artorius and climbed back up to the second floor.

Walking over to the dungeon, he observed a frequent sight. Lyn was hunched over a deer carcass, knife in hand. Next to him was a whole pack of wolves, lazily lounging about. Tamiel slowly and carefully walked next to him, unwilling to spook the wolf pack that could easily tear him to shreds. Some of the younger wolves observed his every move, but none of them lunged at him.

“What are you doing?” Tamiel looked over his shoulder, grimacing at the sight of blood. Lyn jumped up in surprise, but let out a sigh of relief upon seeing Tamiel.

“I’m getting some meat to build a trap. The pack is expanding so fast that they’re running out of food here.” He motioned to the small pile of meat to his side, his hands covered in blood.

“They should split if that’s the case. They’ll run out eventually, even with the traps.” Tamiel recalled his earlier lessons with Lyla. She hated Lyn’s guts, so he was the one asking for advice under the pretence of wanting to know more. And to be fair, he did want that, but it was dishonest to say that was his only reason for talking to her.

“Yeah. I just want to buy some time. The deer have been very aggressive for some reason, and Yeri here has her pups.” He motioned towards the biggest wolf in the pack, currently lying to her side and feeding her young. Lyn’s characteristic scowl was nowhere to be seen at this moment. Instead, a soft smile was on his lips.

“I’m glad they’re doing just fine.” Tamiel shared in Lyn’s joy, a wide grin on his face. He went over to pet one of the older wolves. Some had seen battle after battle, being here since the second floor was created. Those who survived had scars and a cunning glint in their eyes, the kind that decided whether something was a threat in an instant.

He continued playing with the wolves until he was interrupted by a squeaky voice in the air. “Tamiel! There you are. I was wondering where you had gone. You’re out here with the grumpy and stubborn goblin.” The fairy whizzed around the air as some of the wolves stood up. Pecan laughed as they leapt through the air, trying to catch him. He was like a leaf in the wind, gracefully swaying back and forth.

“Have you thought about accepting me as your master yet? I’ll teach you the greatest fairy magics. Forget about these stinky fire spells, all full of doom and gloom.” Pecan landed on Lyn’s head, pulling his hair. Despite being the smallest creature in the dungeon, it was stronger than even Tamiel. Lyn toppled over as he tried to swat Pecan, rolling around in the dirt.

“No. I’ve sworn eternal loyalty to my master. Go away, you pest.” Lyn's scowl deepened as purple flame burned on his body.

“Tch. You’re no fun. Come on, let’s go. You shouldn’t be hanging around crazy goblins.” Pecan landed on Tamiel’s palm, striking a pose and pointing his finger towards the plains. Tamiel let out a small sigh and said his goodbyes to both Lyn and the wolves.

“Let’s play the king’s game. Make it five lies this time. I’m feeling very smart today.”

The king’s game involved Tamiel mixing lies along with a single truth. If Pecan found the truth, Tamiel would have to be punished, and if he chose a lie then the opposite would happen. Pecan was absolutely horrible at it, though Tamiel was confident that he lost on purpose.

“What do you mean you don’t like apples? Gah. You’re too good at this. Everybody loves apples. Alright, what do I have to do?” A more cruel goblin would think of various pranks to play on it, but instead, Tamiel asked a simple question.

“Can you tell me more about Caelia? We didn't finish the story yesterday.” Tamiel sat down on the grass, crossing his legs. Pecan whizzed around in the air, pretending to consider.

“If that’s the punishment then I have no choice but to oblige. Where did we leave off? Oh yeah. Let me tell you how a mortal prince melted Caelia’s frozen heart.”

Pecan told the story as if he had been there. He claimed it happened a thousand years ago, and that it was entirely true, a story about a prince that saved his dying kingdom by falling in love with a fairy.

Tamiel raptly listened to the tale, asking questions about the various details. This was one of many stories that he had heard recently, and he never got bored of them. Sometimes he asked for stories, sometimes for rumours and secrets, and sometimes he asked Pecan to share what he had been through, what his life was about.

He could go on for hours, but Tamiel eventually stood up, bowing to Pecan and waving him goodbye. He had more creatures to visit, more people to speak with. More than anything, he wanted a chance to speak with Zagon, but he had secluded himself on the third floor. The heat was too much for Tamiel to handle, and despite begging Viv for magic items to reduce the heat, he hadn’t gotten back to Tamiel yet.

And so, he went to talk to the last person today. He travelled through the deep, dark forest before arriving at a particular tree marked with an X. He rapped on the wood three times and patiently waited outside. When the bark rippled like water, he pressed his hand against the tree, melding with the wood.

Moments later, he was in a huge wooden room, much larger than the tree outside. Tables and chairs made from wood stood in the middle of the room, a bed of vines and flowers near the corner. Lyla was standing next to a wooden counter, preparing a quick salad to go along with the slab of meat roasting to the side.

“Tamiel, you’re just in time. Would you like some venison?” She offered him a wooden plate. It was during moments like this he remembered he could eat food, and that it was damn delicious.

“What happened to the poor deer?” Tamiel said, sitting on the wooden chair. They only had one knife, so Tamiel waited until Lyla cut up the venison before mimicking her. Eating with a fork was unusual, but if that’s how half-mixes outside did it, then who was he to complain?

“A lightning cheetah got him. He ran all the way before collapsing on my doorstep. I tried to treat him the best I could, but it’s a lot harder to deal with lightning wounds. Would have survived if it was a wolf that got to him.” They shared a moment of sadness before digging in, idly gossiping about the animals in the forest.

“There was a snake that had accidentally consumed an entire madness mushroom. It was fine after an hour, but you should have seen how it was dancing. I felt bad for the poor thing, but I couldn’t stop laughing for a solid five minutes.” Tamiel chuckled at that, imagining the scene. He hated the bastards with a passion.

Lyla brewed some herb tea as the two continued to chat. The idle gossip turned to talks about the outside world, and eventually, they began to talk about her home. The conversation always ended up here. This time, it was Tamiel that was doing the listening. He nodded along to stories of her childhood, of her family.

“I miss my mom. I wonder what she’s doing right now. As weird as that sounds, I even miss my sister. Crazy what days of solitude does to your brain.” She laughed, but to Tamiel, the laugh sounded fake.

“I’ve always liked nature. I vowed to become a druid when I was five, and that I did. I don’t know what possessed me to begin adventuring. I should have stayed in the city.” Lyla spoke, tears flowing down her cheeks. Tamiel kept silent.

“Thank you, Tamiel. I’d probably be gone by now if I didn’t have someone to talk to. It truly helps.” She hugged Tamiel, saying her goodbyes for today. He would be back tomorrow, and he would continue visiting her until she died. He just wished he could do something to ease the pain.

Some days, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. When Viv gave him this name, what purpose did he imagine Tamiel would have? He wasn’t a great warrior like Artorius, nor could he cast spells to help Viv like Lyn. All he did was go around and talk to others, to check up on their troubles. He hoped it helped.