It did not take long for the butlers to bring out another chair for Dalsarel. They had apparently been watching from the mansion, and a single gesture from Akshashka was enough for them to understand what the Matriarch needed. I sat across from the two women like I was about to conduct an interview.

Better that than an interrogation, at least.

With her own cup of tea in front of her and a prompt from her mother, Dalsarel cleared her throat and began her tale. “It happened six months ago. I was patrolling the bottom of the Quarry. This was in the middle of the day, as I volunteered for the sleeping shift,” she explained quickly, both hands adjusting her teacup. The words spilled out of her, and I could tell that she wasn’t feeling herself. “Things have been a little slow these days, so I took some time to practice my forms.”

“Which style do you prefer?” I asked.

“Talpran Core,” she answered immediately. “It’s an ancient Elven practice from before the Split that created the Forest Elves focusing on using a greatsword at range. At its most basic, it presents the weapon as a front for both offense and defense, depending on where the enemy starts.”

“Traditional or Unorthodox?” I asked, already knowing the style she spoke of before her explanation.

She looked surprised for a moment before finding her words. “Traditional, the way it was intended. You’re familiar?”

“I am. Traditional Talpran Core is an impressive discipline,” I praised. “And I agree, it’s much better than the knock-off. Though, I imagine that, in some of these tunnels, you have to half-sword quite often.”

Dalsarel relaxed as she nodded. “You are correct. It can be a small hassle when I’m fighting at some of the natural choke points, but it does extremely well in most of our rooms. Especially my mother’s. The boss room of the dungeon is large enough to hold a few archers, and I’m on the front lines.”

“From what I’ve heard, you’ve been doing well,” I said, pulling a smile from the young woman. “Please, continue with your story.”

“Right. I was practicing my forms, and I felt a gust of wind,” she continued after taking a sip of tea. It shook a bit as she placed the cup back on its saucer, and she looked at her mother from the corner of her eye. “I remember it clearly because it was odd. The wind doesn’t usually make it to the bottom of the quarry. Perhaps on days with heavy storms, but this was not one of those.”

Remembering the Treant’s story about Grandfather Red and the wind, I nodded and gestured for her to go on.

Looking from me to her mother, Dalsarel reached out with her wooden hand and the Matriarch took it without hesitation. I paid particular attention to the way the young woman’s fingers moved. There wasn’t any stiffness or issues. It was just like a normal hand.

“I felt something I had never felt before well up in my arm. My wrist, specifically, and I watched as my hand changed into what it is now. Not only that, but I felt my wellspring for the first time.”

“She could be heard all the way from here,” Akshashka laughed. “I don’t generally look well upon those who leave their posts, but in this case I allowed it. She had seen me cast spells time and time again, so her excitement was understandable once she explained herself.”

I frowned, but managed to smooth it out before the women looked back at me. Dalsarel continued. “It took me some time to get a hang of things, but under my mother’s tutelage I’ve become quite proficient in a few spells. She believes that I will surpass her as a spellcaster in another year or so, and I’m hoping it’s true.”

“It would be quite a feat, considering how long she’s been a dungeon owner,” I remarked.

“Quite a feat indeed,” Akshashka agreed. “But one that I believe will come true. That is why I would like her to have her own dungeon now. If she stays too long, we may all have to move, and that is something that neither of us want.”

The young woman shook her head. “Absolutely not. While I will be sad to leave the quarry, we can’t let those…” she faltered for a moment, sneaking a quick glance at her mother. “We can’t let the neighbors get their hands on it.”

“This dungeon is one of the oldest not just in Athir, but on the continent,” I responded. “Even if I were one of the Forest Elf Inspectors, I would be remiss to even suggest getting rid of it to the Department. Please trust me when I say we’d much rather see a second one of these pop up instead of destroying one to make another.”

“That’s really good to hear,” Dalsarel said with a relieved sigh. “I was worried about it. We have already planned to mine a tunnel between the two, considering I already know the perfect place for it.”

“If it’s good enough for the Department of Dungeons, of course,” Akshashka quickly interjected.

“Mother, we spoke about this,” the young woman whispered. “I feel very strongly about this spot.”

Akshashka gave me a quick smile before leaning in. Despite her hushed tone, I could hear her clearly. “Daughter of mine, you haven’t even been there yet.”

“It’s where my dungeon is going to be,” she firmly insisted.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but been where?” I asked, leaning forward.

“I’ve been having dreams lately,” Dalsarel answered before her mother could speak. “Of a wonderful cave system filled with water, rivers, and the like.”

I blinked. “A karst.”

Dalsarel nodded enthusiastically, reminding me of someone I knew not much younger than her. “Yes, with plenty of space to do as I will with a dungeon,” she continued. “It would be around an hour and a half walk southwest from here if we made a tunnel, but several times longer on the surface. There are plenty of natural barriers along the way, not just the trees.”

“And this karst is filled with mushrooms that are rather vile, I assume,” I stated.

“Yes, Basher Caps!” she exclaimed, surprised. “I was planning on using them as natural traps because they were already there and pruning them comes quite naturally to us due to our natural resistance to their spores. Do you know of this place?”

“I am quite interested in that as well,” Akshashka said, leaning her elbows on the table to look at me with curiosity. “Between this and my daughter’s martial style, you are proving to be quite the knowledgeable Dungeon Inspector.”

“I have not been there personally, but it was a dungeon over a hundred years back,” I explained, ignoring the flattery.

“That’s exciting,” Dalsarel said. There was something borderline manic on her face, which was a far cry from how we had started this discussion.

“Let’s take a breath,” I responded, holding up my hand. The young woman nodded, doing as I said and bringing her fidgeting down to a minimum. Once she did, she sat with poise that she clearly learned from her mother. “I have a very important question for you.”

“I’ll answer anything I can,” she said firmly.

“If I say Blackwood Queen, does that mean anything to you? To either of you?”

Dalsarel shook her head, but a smile appeared on Akshashka’s lips. “It doesn’t, but I daresay that might be a fantastic title,” she said, not hiding her excitement. “Dalsarel, the Blackwood Queen. It does have a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”

Stolen novel; please report.

“It may, but I don’t know about jumping straight to calling myself a queen, mother,” the young woman said, seemingly embarrassed. “Maybe just the Blackwood for a while? See if it sticks.”

“I think the Blackwood Queen fits wonderfully,” the Matriarch insisted, reaching out to tuck an errant hair around her daughter’s ear. “But, it will be your dungeon, so you can take on any moniker you desire. Though I’m sure the Inspector doesn’t have to tell you that a name is very important in this lifestyle.”

“Your mother’s right about the importance of names,” I agreed absentmindedly.

Based on their reactions, neither of them seemed to be lying. Still, something wasn’t adding up. Between the familiar dark wood, the mention of the wind just like with Grandfather Red, and the location of a defunct dungeon in her dreams, there was too much to ignore.

“I’m sorry, Matriarch Akshashka,” I started, catching the Elf’s attention. “May I speak with your daughter alone for a few minutes?”

“Of course, Inspector,” she said, standing up. “Take as much time as you need. I will be in the house should you need me again.”

“Thank you. Rest assured, I believe we can get this taken care of,” I told her as I stood up as well. “I have already decided to put in the paperwork to start things moving, but it will take time. Likely a lot more than usual, I’m afraid, so we may need to keep Dalsarel hidden for the time being. I would like to ask for your patience.”

Akshashka moved around the table to stand in front of me. She reached down, taking both of my hands in hers and gave me a brilliant smile. “I understand that the wheels of bureaucracy rarely move above a snail’s pace, dear Inspector, but we will still wait for the good news when it comes.”

With a pat of my hands, the Matriarch headed towards her home. The same three butlers greeted her and offered her something I couldn’t see as she entered, leaving me with a quiet Dalsarel.

The moment the door closed, the First Daughter spoke. “Do you find it weird that I know where I want my dungeon to be based on a dream?” she asked, tempering her nervousness.

“It’s uncommon, but it seems like a lot about your situation seems to be a deviation from what is normal,” I stated. I gestured towards her hand. “Does it hurt?”

“No, Inspector,” she answered.

“And does it grow bark when you cast spells?”

“It doesn’t. My hand is permanently like this now,” she confirmed. “Nothing changes when I cast. Other than the effects, of course.

I nodded. “A sorceress usually has something accompanying their spellcasting,” I said, not telling her anything she wouldn’t already know. “Sometimes it manifests itself in a very noticeable way, like your mother. Other times it's more subtle. Perhaps a wind that only affects them, or a sparkle in their eye. Or even something like a feeling, though that’s rarer than a physical manifestation. How does casting feel to you?”

Dalsarel stared at me for a moment before she nervously smoothed her hair again. “You know a lot about sorcery,” she observed.

“I’ve been around quite a few spellcasters in my day,” I replied with a shrug.

When it became obvious that I wasn’t going to say anything more, she continued. “It’s nothing physical, though sometimes I feel a pull. Towards that place in my dream, I mean. That’s how I know how long it would take to get there. I suppose that would be my feeling.”

“It sure seems that way,” I said before leaning forward onto the table. “Dalsarel, I want you to be completely honest with me.”

“I have been,” she protested quietly. Her eyes, feigning sternness, gave her away.

“Being a dungeon owner is a privilege,” I said. “It’s not a process for everyone. There are hundreds, perhaps even thousands of applications that come through the Department of Dungeons every year. The vast majority of them are shredded before they even get a chance to be interviewed. Most of them are because they’re for petty reasons. The town was mean, so I want to get back at them. My ex wife left me, so now I want to permanently squat in the house we built together. There are a lot of wild dogs in the area, so I want to lure them in and start a kennel.”

Dalsarel barked a laugh, thinking I was joking. When she saw I wasn’t, she arched an eyebrow. “Wait, really?”

“Really,” I sighed. “Unfortunately, it looks like that one has a sliver of a chance to make it through. The Chief Dungeon Inspector was talking about trying something new, and a puppy dungeon made for kids might be one of those things. Not for fighting, obviously, but like a petting zoo for dog monsters.”

“That sounds… I’m not sure how that sounds,” she said slowly.

I waved my hand. “It's a tangent that doesn’t matter in the long run. What does matter is that you’re honest with me. How did you really get your powers?”

“They came to me,” she insisted.

“No outside help at all?” I asked, looking into her eyes. She shook her head, but I pressed on. “Perhaps something like a thorn or a seed, or something that wasn’t there one moment but was the next?”

The Elf’s eyes widened. “H-how did you know?” she sputtered.

I pursed my lips. “Let’s just say that there are a few loose ends around the area that I’m trying to tug free. Please, tell me the truth.” Dalsarel glanced from me to the mansion. Catching the meaning of the look, I offered her a smile. “I won’t tell your mother.”

It only took a few seconds before she released a heavy sigh. “The magic did come to me while I was practicing my forms, but… I wasn’t entirely honest with the method.”

“I’m listening,” I prompted.

She nodded. “I was practicing my forms. The bottom of the quarry is quite large, but I make sure to clear out my space so I don’t trip over any rocks. I was going back and forth, as I do when I practice the… I believe the name would be Boulder In A Whirlwind in Imperial Standard. Which, now that I say it, loses a lot of its charm in another language.”

“Not all translations can be winners,” I said with a thin smile. “Masuealdon Fasaigh Hels, for instance. From Elven to Imperial Standard, it would roughly be Muscle Toad Leaps From Swamp.”

Dalsarel visibly recoiled. Then, she thought about it. “It does, doesn’t it?” she asked, her expression made it clear what she thought about that.

“It does. But, Boulder In A Whirlwind,” I said, waving my hand.

She schooled her expression and nodded. “I was practicing my forms when there was a light,” she continued. “As you saw out there, the gloom is ever present due to its magical nature. The flash was brief, a really small one, and I nearly stepped on a seed.”

“One big enough for you to notice?” I asked.

“Around the size of your fist,” she answered.

“Do you still have it?”

Pursing her lips, Dalsarel lifted her hand. “I picked it up, and it stuck thorns into my hand. My skin absorbed it and, when it was done, there were only a few pinpricks of blood left over. No wounds or any discomfort.”

“That seems like the kind of thing you’d tell your mother,” I said cautiously.

“I know,” she admitted, leaning forward. I almost thought she was going to go so far as to rest her chin on the table before she caught herself. “But after I absorbed it, all this knowledge started flowing into me. Power rushed through me, and I noticed I had something similar to what my mother always described when I asked her about her own magic. From there, it came easily. Well, after I received some helpful advice.”

I frowned. “Did you not tell Akshashka because you wanted to be like her?”

A pause. “Maybe. I mean, I guess so. I’ve always been ashamed that I’m not a natural spellcaster like my mother, or grandmother, or great grandmother,” she said quietly. “I’m good at swinging a big chunk of sharp metal, but this was my bloodline, you know?”

“I know a thing or two about wanting to live up to familial expectations,” I offered. “But also when to discuss things with those closest to you.”

“Are you going to tell my mother?” Dalsarel asked, her eyes pleading for me not to.

“No,” I answered with no hesitation. She perked up immediately, sitting up straight, and I raised my hand to stop her before she could get too excited. “But I can’t offer you your own dungeon until I figure out some things that are going on in Athir. You’ll get it, I just can’t promise when. It’s for the safety of a lot of people. Not just for the Forest Elves, but everyone. Even you and your people.”

“What’s going on?” she asked curiously.

I shook my head. “I can’t talk about it, so forget it. Don’t tell anyone, by the way. If you do, it will jeopardize your chance to be a dungeon owner. Clear?” She nodded, and I believed her enough to move on. “Are you sure you don’t know the name Blackwood Queen? Or maybe you know a portal user?”

“No, Inspector, I haven’t. My mother can teleport short distances, but that’s it,” she replied.

I made a note of that, but didn’t find it suspicious. Teleportation was different from creating portals. Same general idea, wildly different principles.

“Okay. I’ve just got a few more questions before I have to start heading back,” I said. “Relax, the hard part is already over. How about we move onto something more practical, such as showing me your spells and skill with your sword.”

Dalsarel released another breath before putting on a smile and nodding, and we continued until I had to leave for my next appointment.