The Head Adventurer’s office was deep inside the building and had a great view of the noble quarter. It seemed like every inch of it was covered in some form of weapon, armor, or trophy in a garish display of what some might consider dashing heroics. One wall was dedicated to mounted heads of dangerous monsters that hung above the gear used to kill them, forming a timeline from right to left as the creatures got bigger and the equipment more expensive.

Sitting at a large desk covered in paper with a glowing quill that was writing on its own was an Elven man. His tan skin wasn’t wrinkled, but there was a quality to it that made him seem unnaturally young, as though he had gone through some kind of treatment to rejuvenate himself. He grinned as I walked in, showing off perfectly white teeth as he stood up.

“Dungeon Inspector Badger!” he greeted with a boisterous voice. His quill continued to write as he walked around the desk to greet me. “It’s so good to finally meet you. Cojisto had nothing but good things to say about you and your apprentice.”

“Head Adventurer Dorostreff, thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” I responded politely, shaking the Elf’s hand before taking a seat offered to me. He returned to his side of the desk. “I’m assuming that you know of my mission, given that you met Cojisto and were likely the one who briefed him on this joint venture.”

“Right to it, then?” Dorostreff laughed. Once he sat down, he opened a drawer to retrieve a whiskey tumbler, setting it on the desk. “He wasn’t kidding when he said you were all business.”

I suppressed a frown. “With all due respect, Head Adv-“

“Please, call me Dorostreff,” he interrupted, pulling out a half-full bottle of Estherpin, an Elven whiskey made not far from the city. It was a harder drink than most of the alcohol made in Athir, much harder, but still highly regarded for its flavor and aroma.

“With all due respect, Dorostreff,” I reiterated slowly, measuring my response. “But I don’t think drinking will help this meeting.”

The Elf nodded. “Maybe not for you, but it will certainly help me,” he said, pouring himself a drink.

“Somehow, I find that doubtful,” I replied.

“You have your own way of doing things at the Department of Dungeons, and we have our own here at the Adventurer’s Consortium. Especially when it involves dealing with Dungeon Inspectors first thing in the morning,” he said, raising his glass with a smile. “Cheers.”

I watched as he sipped his whiskey and shook my head. Adventurers, even retired ones, would always be adventurers. “Since you briefed Cojisto, you know what my work is for. If so, you should know how important my business is.”

“Come on, Badger, you know how this goes as much as I do,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “These are dungeons! There will always be adventurers who don’t make it. It’s sad, of course, but everyone knows the risks going in. Some people are born heroes, while others simply aren’t cut out for it. I don’t think such a small increase in deaths warrants a full blown investigation.”

That made me frown. “Unfortunately for the both of us, my boss disagrees,” I said, trying to be diplomatic. “Though now that you’ve said your piece, what were you told of what I’m looking into?”

The Elf arched an eyebrow. “You want me to spend my time telling you what your job is?”

“I’d like us to be on the same page.”

Dorostreff took another drink before he leaned back in his chair and put his fingers together. “Some of the dungeons in our area have increased in lethality over the past few months. You’ve come to figure out why,” he said before shaking his head. “But it’s a tale as old as dungeons themselves. They fight near constantly, the adventurers grab the crystals, and everyone gets stronger.”

“Except, in this case, the adventurers,” I pointed out.

He waved his hand dismissively. “That happens, too. There’s been an infusion of new talent into the pool. They shoot for the stars, and it doesn't always work out. Some of them make it okay, others don’t. We’re not going to deny someone their dream of being an adventurer if they can pass the minimum threshold.”

“There is a demographic shift going on right now with more young adventurers joining the Consortium, yes. I can agree with that statistic,” I said, leaning forward. “But how come Athir’s the only one who’s having this problem, then? You also have one of the biggest rosters of adventurers on the continent thanks to so many taking centuries to retire. Are you going to sit here and tell me that they’re all young bloods?”

Dorostreff bristled. “It’s because we have so many fine adventurers that our dungeons are so spectacular.”

“Are they spectacular?” I asked.

“Spectacular,” he repeated firmly, jabbing a finger onto his desk after every syllable. “Our young bloods, as you put it, have generally trained for longer than you’ve been alive. They’re stronger and more skilled than the equivalent ages anywhere else.”

“Heavily debatable,” I scoffed, crossing my arms. When he opened his mouth, I spoke a little louder. “You’re right, I’m here to figure out why this is happening. Moose and Cojisto were to be sent ahead to scout them out, which they did thanks to your instruction.”

“Putting a lot of faith in some Human and his pet,” Dorostreff said before leaning in. “The moose thing is weird, right? That’s not just me?”

I hesitated, but ended up nodding. “It’s not just you. I find it pretty weird as well. But, they’re the best of friends, so, that’s all there is to it,” I sighed. “Look. The argument of demographics and lethality aside, I’m actually here for another reason.”

“I would have been pretty angry if you came here just to look down on the Consortium,” the Elf said.

“I’d never come here just to look down on the Consortium,” I managed to reply without scoffing. “My apprentice and I visited the Red Thicket yesterday.”

“Beautiful dungeon,” Dorostreff said, nodding. “Definitely one of the highlights of Athir’s forest.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would agree,” I responded. He gave me a sharp look. “Every Treant there is suffering from Rage Rot. Before Moose and Cojisto, there hadn’t been anyone clearing the dungeon out for at least a month.”

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

The Head Adventurer frowned. “That doesn’t sound right. Did you already talk to Abara at the Green Union about this?”

I shook my head, making a mental note of the Green Union representative’s name. “I haven’t. I went to visit them last night, but no one was there. Their bell was missing and knocking didn’t get me anywhere.”

“That’s strange, that little Gnome practically lives in the Riverside office,” he claimed as he stroked his chin. “But you said the Red Thicket hadn’t had visitors in a month?”

“That’s right,” I confirmed. “Many of them were in the advanced stages of Rage Rot.”

“Which would explain the enhanced lethality of the Treants there, at least for a short time,” Dorostreff offered. “It takes a while for the visible symptoms of Rage Rot to appear, so they wouldn’t look out of place for a while. That’s one mystery solved.”

“Precisely my thoughts as well. What I really wanted to know was why this wasn’t reported to the Green Union to be fixed or, at the very least, passed on to us,” I continued. “Which did happen eventually, but that was because of the high rise in mortality rates. Once there, I found out they’ve had no visitors in so long. I came here to see what your records said on the matter.”

The Elf hesitated as if thinking. After a few seconds, he opened one of the drawers on his desk to pull out a Sending Stone. It was labeled Records Room, and he set it on the table before thumbing the rune on it, causing it to glow. We didn’t have to wait long.

“Head Adventurer Dorostreff,” greeted a woman’s nasally voice. “What can I do for you?”

“Good morning, Taramelle,” he replied. “I have Dungeon Inspector Badger here in my office. Would you be a doll and bring me up the file for the Red Thicket?”

A pause. “Does he have the proper requisition form?”

As she was asking, I retrieved a piece of parchment from my Pocket and set it on the desk. It was a nearly filled out copy of the form she was asking for, missing only a few critical pieces of information.

“You… just had that waiting?” Dorostreff asked incredulously.

“I believe in being prepared, and that means I always have a few of the more common forms ready to go,” I explained while I pulled out my pen and filled in the rest. I put down that I was looking for information on the Red Thicket from Athir’s Adventurer’s Consortium under the purview of Head Adventurer Dorostreff. Once I was done, I pushed it across the desk. “Officially requested, as requested.”

The Elf nodded as he picked it up and looked it over. “Requisition form received, Tara. Bring it up.”

“Right away, sir,” she responded before the Sending Stone stopped glowing.

“She’ll be here a few minutes,” Dorostreff said as he put the magical device back into its drawer. He took another sip of his whiskey before he returned the bottle to his desk. “You have quite the circuit to go over, Badger. If I remember right, you’ll be visiting that bitch Akshashka after you’re done with the Red Thicket, right?”

Akshashka was the leader and matriarch of the Dark Elf Quarry. She had been a thorn in the side of Athir from the moment she showed up centuries ago, which had been her plan the entire time. While her dungeon had been defeated countless times since its inception, it still denied the Forest Elves a substantial national resource mostly due to the rules put in place by the DoD about squatting in dungeons after their defeat.

That was one of the reasons we weren’t very well liked here in Athir, though it was admittedly only a small drop in the bucket of bureaucracy.

“I did plan on visiting the quarry after I took care of the problems around the Red Thicket, yes,” I told him. “But this comes first. I’ll get there when I get there.”

“Sure. Just don’t be surprised if you’re met with hostility,” Dorostreff said before looking at his glass and downing the rest. “Akshashka has been a pain in the ass since she got here.”

“I’m well aware of her personality profile. Rest assured that it won’t be a problem so long as I don’t provoke her.”

“Like bringing your junior with you?” he asked, peering down at what his quill was writing. It must have been fine, because the Elf nodded and leaned back in his chair.

“That’s a likely necessary precaution, unfortunately,” I answered. “Ferrisdae may be a Junior Dungeon Inspector, but there are some hives you just don’t poke, no matter how big a stick you carry.”

Dorostreff was about to say something when there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”

I turned to see a trim woman in a modest green dress open the door. Her blond hair was cut short, showing off her long, though rounded, ears. We made eye contact before she shut the door behind her and she approached me, offering her hand. I couldn’t help but notice that she arrived here carrying nothing.

“Dungeon Inspector Badger, I am Taramelle, the Chief Records Officer for Athir’s Adventurer’s Consortium. It’s nice to meet you,” she greeted. I recognized her nasally voice from the Sending Stone.

Standing up, I shook her hand. “Thank you for coming up here so quickly.”

“Yes, thank you for your diligence,” Dorostreff said from behind me. I heard him get up, and I moved so I wasn’t standing between them. “Did you find the file?”

“I did, sir,” she confirmed. We both looked her over, and she smoothed her dress nervously with both of her empty hands.

“Did you bring it?” he followed up.

“No, sir,” Taramelle answered, her eyes flicking from me to the Head Adventurer. “Could I speak with you for just a moment? Privately, if possible.”

“What happened to the Red Thicket file?” I asked, annoyance welling up inside me.

The Half-Elf’s face paled at my question. “There’s something I need to discuss with-”

“Come off it, Tara,” Dorostreff said with a wave of his hand. “Badger here’s going to invoke some rule or regulation that will force us to let him into the records room to check it himself, and I’m not going to be bothered to stop him. So you might as well say it now in front of him.”

“Yes, sir,” she said before taking a breath. “I discovered that the Red Thicket file has been… tampered with.”

I crossed my arms. “And the back-up files you’re required to keep?”

“They seem to be tampered with as well, Dungeon Inspector,” she answered, lowering her head.

“And what makes you think they’ve been messed with, Taramelle?” Dorostreff asked.

“Because the last addition to the file is a Certificate of Destruction,” she explained. “As you know, when a file is closed out then I’m the one to do it. That is one of my jobs as the CRO of this Consortium Branch. However, despite my name on it, I never prepared one for the Red Thicket with a Dungeon Inspector. None of the other clerks remembered pulling the file recently, let alone adding to it.”

“How far back is the CoD dated?” I asked, now both annoyed and intrigued.

The Certificate of Destruction was drafted with both a member of the Consortium, usually the CRO, and the Inspector who destroyed the dungeon. I was curious to see who’s name was on this piece of paperwork. If it actually was a Dungeon Inspector, then we had a bigger problem than we realized.

“One month, two weeks, and four days,” she stated immediately.

I looked back at Dorostreff. “A little longer than Maplewell’s three or four weeks and certainly longer than Sapmore’s two. Given their state of mind, I’d be inclined to believe they might not be as aware of the flow of time.”

“I’d be inclined to agree,” the Head Adventurer said. He pulled out his bottle of whiskey and poured another glass before downing it. Sighing, he stood up. “Alright, let’s get down to the records room and get this over with. Tara, please lead the way.”

“Of course,” she replied with a nod.

I was looking forward to, hopefully, getting answers.