“Equipment check before we go in,” I told Ferrisdae.

“Yes,” Ferrisdae said. “I have my wand ready.”

I looked over and saw that she did have her wand in hand. That appeared to be her only preparation. “Is that all you need to raid a dungeon?” I asked. I hadn’t heard her cast any spells for protection or buffs, and I knew she had at least one spell that did the latter.

“I’m a simple spellcaster,” Ferrisdae claimed with a shrug. “All I need is a solid grasp of the situation and a wand to use as a focus. What else would I need?”

“Simple isn’t what I would refer to any spellcaster as,” I said with a scowl and a shake of my head. “No protective spells or empowerments you want to cast?”

Ferrisdae shook her head. “No, I know a short term shielding spell for emergencies,” she replied. “But it’s not like I can pop off to the store and purchase new spells. What I have is what I have.”

I nodded. She had specified that she was a sorceress when we first met after I had asked her if she were a wizard. Unlike a wizard, all of her spells came from the magic source within her called a wellspring. She could still use magic items that could cast spells, but since she had not done so, I assumed she didn’t have any.

“But you do have offensive spells, right?” I asked.

“Of course I do!” Ferrisdae said as if she was scandalized. “You think I’d sign up for a job like this without an offensive spell?”

I waved her off. “Okay, I believe you. As long as you’ve got…” My eyes narrowed as I realized what she said. “I’m sorry, an offensive spell?”

“Yeah, that’s not a big deal, is it? I’m quite good with it,” she claimed. “Don’t even have to aim it or anything, just fire it off and it does the rest.”

“Is your only offensive spell, by chance, Magic Missile?” I asked flatly.

Magic Missile was a spell that never missed its target, but didn’t have a lot of force behind it. Variations of the spell were common, but I had never seen a variation that packed a substantial punch.

“No, don’t be dense,” Ferrisdae said, scoffing. “It’s a variant of Magic Missile called Shooting Star. It’s way more powerful and way cooler.” She watched as I put my hand over my face. This girl was a headache. “What? You have a problem with Shooting Star?”

“Not with Shooting Star, no,” I said slowly into my hand. I stopped looking at her. “I was just assuming that you had more punch than a single offensive variant spell.”

“Aww, are you worried about me?” Ferrisdae asked, leaning down so that she was in my face.

“Of course I’m worried about you,” I told her. Ferrisdae’s face brightened at those words, and I shook my head. “Do you know how much paperwork I’d have to do if you got hurt or, Gods forbid, killed? It’s not a walk in the park being a mentor to a Junior Dungeon Inspector.” I expected her to change her tune after that, and I dropped my hand to see her staring at me with an amused look on her face.

“Well, it’s nice to know you care,” she said, laughing and standing up straight. There was a hesitant tone in her voice when she next spoke. “Aren’t you going to check your equipment, too?”

“I’m getting to it, just had to check on you first,” I said sullenly. It was then that I noticed she was staring at me quite intensely. “Do you need something?”

“Merlk said that you used a sword and shield,” Ferrisdae stated. “I was just waiting for you to pull them out. See what kind of equipment you use.”

I leveled a flat stare on her, but she just grinned. “When we get back, remind me to give that Dwarf a good talking to about passing around my personal information.” While I was talking, I started pulling my equipment from my pocket. The first thing I pulled out was an unadorned leather buckler that I strapped to my wrist.

Although it looked like a normal buckler, it was anything but. I slapped my hand against my chest, and magically concealed metal plates extended out to produce a large round shield. From the outside it looked to be made of some plain steel, but when looked at from the wearer’s side it was transparent. This allowed me to retain my vision even when it was necessary to cover my face with the shield. It had been a trusted companion for a long while now. I tapped my chest with the hand again and the magic metal plates slid back into the buckler.

Reaching back into my pocket, I pulled out a metallic green sword hilt. It fit into my hand perfectly, protecting my fingers with a sweeping half-basket designed to look like leafed vines growing from where the blade was supposed to be. The pommel was a plain disc with eight notches cut into it.

I thumbed a rune near the top of the grip and a two foot long blade ending erupted from the hilt. “Ignite,” I told it, speaking in a commanding tone, and it did. From the clipped point down to the hilt, flames sprung forth from the blade and radiated a heat that felt gentle to us but would rage against my enemies.

“Ohhhh,” Ferrisdae said, sidling up to my blade. “That’s more in line with what I expect from you.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

I arched an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“Oh, you want to know my opinion all of a sudden?” Ferrisdae teased.

“We’re going in,” I said with a scowl. I began walking towards the entrance.

“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ferrisdae apologized as she fell in line behind me. “I just thought you’d have something cool. And you do. How many blades do you have in that Hilt of Holding?”

“Enough,” I said. Then I sighed. I supposed it might be time to give up some secrets and mentor this child properly. Throw her a bone, at least. “Seven, almost full. I have this one and an ice sword just like it, a dagger that magically injects poison into whatever I stab, a rapier that enhances my speed, one that’s just a club but corrodes any metal it strikes, a scimitar that drinks blood but before you ask, no, I have no idea where the blood goes nor is it a cursed item, and finally, my favorite letter opener.”

Ferrisdae listened and approved of everything one by one until I got to the last blade. “A letter opener?” She asked incredulously. “You can’t remove swords, or clubs I guess, from a Hilt of Holding, right?”

“That’s right, but I did say that it was my favorite letter opener,” I said. Then I raised a hand and shushed her; we passed the threshold into the Ice Caverns.

As I passed into the dungeon, that familiar chill rushed over me. Not from the actual cold air all around us, but from the magic that made up the dungeon itself. A gold plaque in the white, frost covered stone entrance caught my eye. I approached it, and read the engraved text.

Welcome to dungeon “I’ll Name It Later” (17).

Please excuse our mess, this dungeon is currently being converted. Conversion will be paused if anyone not of the dungeon enters. Rest assured, we are working hard to turn I’ll Name It Later (17) into a dungeon worth delving into.

Any complaints can be directed to the Dungeon Boss, Oristrella the White Wyrm.

We appreciate your patience.

Best regards from the Secretary to The Dungeon Master, Master of Dungeons.

I read through the text with a furrowed brow, and I felt Ferrisdae behind me reading the plaque as well. It was strange, I had never seen anything like this before in my time as a dungeon inspector.

“This is highly unprofessional,” I seethed. “This is exactly why the Department of Dungeons is so damn important. Who the hell do they think they are?”

“You okay, Badger?” Ferrisdae asked hesitantly, voice low but warm.

I huffed, took a moment, and then nodded. “Yes, I will be,” I said, turning away from her. “It said to direct all complaints to Oristrella, and I have a lot to say about this new guy.”

“The Dungeon Master,” Ferrisdae said, nodding. “Master of Dungeons.”

“That’s a real mouthful.” Putting my feelings off to the side, I fell back into my work.

Kobolds were always tricky henchmen to deal with. They were crafty and scrappy, utilizing traps and scurrying off when battles they were in turned against them. I swept my eyes along the floor, walls, and ceilings to check for anything dangerous they might have set up. A few of them were evident such as bear traps jutting out of the ice-covered ground and camouflaged by snow, or light cracks that indicated the floor wasn’t as sturdy as expected. Something seemed off, though. Something, aside from the obvious, wasn’t right.

I switched my sword to my shield arm and pulled out the map of this place. It was supposed to be a long, winding tunnel with areas dug out to the sides where the Kobolds made their warrens and then a large room at the end with an unfreezing spring that Oristrella made her lair. I checked the map against the dungeon’s foyer and realization hit me.

“It’s been altered,” I said. “This map is useless.”

“What do you mean?” Ferrisdae asked. She moved to look over my shoulder.

I put out my flaming sword by retracting the blade before continuing. Using the hilt, I pointed to where we were. “The entrance is only supposed to have one path inward, and there’s supposed to be both Kobolds and traps here. I’ve found the traps, but now there’s two paths and no Kobolds.”

Ferrisdae hummed, thinking. “It’s been about three months since the last inspection, right? Could they have changed it in that long?”

“These are natural caverns, but with magic it is possible,” I mused. “But does that mean this Dungeon Master is-”

“Master of Dungeons,” Ferrisdae said, interrupting me.

“What?” I asked, arching an eyebrow as I looked up at her.

“Dungeon Master, Master of Dungeons,” she corrected. “That’s his title.”

“It’s unwieldy is what it is,” I countered. “I’m not saying all of that every time I need to reference him.”

“Okay, but I just think it’s rude to dismiss his name, is all,” she said right back.

I shook my head at her. “Okay, but does this mean the owner has been around for that long?” I asked, avoiding the mouthful of a title. “Or is this a more recent development?”

“I’d think the latter, if Warchief Corez’s reaction to him was anything to go by,” Ferrisdae stated, tapping her finger to her chin as she continued to think. “If he had months to cope, he might not have been so angry. Also, Oristrella probably wouldn't have kidnapped Kori. Princess Koritha, I mean."

“I’m inclined to agree,” I said with a nod, ignoring her familiar way of addressing royalty. “That’s a good observation. But if it’s more recent, then we assume, what? A few weeks max? It takes a long time for dungeon shaping magic to do its thing, so what method is this guy using?”

“We could stand here and think about it, or we could go lodge those complaints you have and get information,” Ferrisdae said before taking on an impish grin. “I know which one I’d rather do.”

I nodded. I was going to have a whole slew of complaints once we got there. If it would be worth airing, however, that was another story. Dragons were capricious and prone to dismiss completely valid complaints from what they perceived as lesser races.

“You want to take the vanguard, sir?” Ferrisdae asked as she turned her attention back to the dungeon.

“No,” I said sarcastically. “You go ahead, I’ll use this sword and shield to protect you from the back. You’ve got this. I’ve got full faith in your one offensive spell and short lived defensive ones.”

“Sarcasm, nice. You’re starting to sound more like a person every day.” Ferrisdae laughed and stuck her tongue out at me before taking the map from my hand. “I’ll take this just in case. If we come across any of the old parts of the dungeon, then it’ll still come in handy.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I told her, turning my gaze back to the large, icy room before us.