After I finished telling our story, Justisius shared his own. I had to admit, I didn’t have the patience for what he was going through.

On one side, he had the exiled child of the sultan, Kabare. He was charming and witty, but a little mischievous. There was always a twinkle in his eye that he knew more than you did. Whatever it was, he wasn’t telling.

Justisius and his crew had been down in the dungeon several times on the grand tour. While he still hadn’t gotten any clear answer as to what had caused the magic to form and remain stable, he had been allowed his own investigations. They had, unfortunately, come up with nothing.

Anywhere else, Kabare’s dungeon would have been commonplace. Here, it was only remarkable due to its location.

Not only that, but on the other side he had Sultan Jareet. From what I understood, the Dwarven leader simply didn’t understand the Department of Dungeon’s reach. They simply didn't need us here, and it was grating on the old royal that he had to give Justisius any of his time. At first, anyway, before the Inspector wormed his way into the sultan’s good graces.

That being said, Justisius was much more calm and charismatic than myself or Liddy. He had no problem walking into the den of disgruntled dungeon bosses and negotiating from a position of respect, no matter how begrudging it might have been.

It had been a matter of personal pride that the other Dungeon Inspector had not only managed to get the sultan and his son in the same room for a prolonged period of time, as evident by the way his weariness left his eyes when he told me, but had managed to rekindle the broken bond between the two Dwarves. It was tenuous and only time would tell if it would hold, but it was praiseworthy.

And then, there were the princes and princesses. I hadn’t heard about them from Brackenhorst, but hearing it from Justisius hadn’t surprised me. Almost all of them were schemers, trying to figure out how to come out ahead using this event as a stepping stone.

It had helped that they were mostly ineffectual. The sultan had decreed to leave the matter to Justisius and himself, and they mostly listened. A few early on sent their own guards in to destroy the dungeon, only to be surprised the next day when everyone returned to life.

Stupid of them, really; like their father, I expected them to at least know the basics of magic outside of their realm.

Justisius himself had been pulled this way and that as others tried to curry favor from him. If their “worthless brother” could achieve this level of immortality, then what did they need to do to usurp him? Surely, they could wait out the throne if they could do it in complete and utter safety of their own dungeon.

He was a more patient man than I was, and I told him that straight to his face. I didn’t like dealing with politicking of any sort, and I especially didn’t enjoy a royal family’s petty squabbles to be the next Sultan Jareet.

Then, everything shifted. Justisius had been negotiating with Kabare just last night, sharing wine, watching the famous dancing women of Laroda, and telling tales of adventures outside of the desert, when the exiled son had been pulled away by an urgent matter. Ever the gentleman, the Dungeon Inspector offered his help but was quickly turned down and told to enjoy the show.

He had, until Kabare returned with sweat on his brow and concern in his eyes. The Dwarf had played it off as just some manual labor that they needed help with, something that required everyone, but was quick to usher Justisius out.

Now that my fellow Inspector knew that Abara had taken Ferrisdae and Moose, he was kicking himself. His orders were to be a diplomat, and one did not simply break down the doors he had spent so much effort coaxing open. It was anathema to his mission.

I knew he would have been willing to jump in at my junior’s behest if he had known, but seeing him get worked up about it was heartening. There was a reason why Justisius was one of the few people from the department that I had invited to the Bottom’s Up.

We walked with determination up the stairs towards where the dungeon started. Kabare had taken up almost an entire wing of the palace, only the fourth and highest floor being left out. However, the rooms there could only be accessed from the third floor. The layout was meant to give the visiting nobility who stayed there some measure of safety, as there were less ways for potential assassins to come in.

The palace had been built in a different time, to be sure, but I still found it fascinating. When this was all over and Ferrisdae was safe — and she was going to be safe — I thought about purchasing a book about the history of the building.

I felt the DTER immediately as we transitioned into the wing’s entryway. It was a large room full of indulgence. White stone columns were spread out evenly to the left and right, each having couches with gold thread pillows encircling them. A smaller fountain than the one in the palace’s foyer was the centerpiece, but it was immaculately made with tiles of various blue shades.

There were Dwarven guards armed with scimitars and shields here, and they weren’t wearing the colors of Laroda. Instead, they were all in tan outfits with a three armed cactus sewn over their heart. No doubt this was Kabare’s personal symbol for his personal guard.

They didn’t appear to be surprised to see Justisius or the minister, and his two juniors were already here. The two were chatting up the guards, drinking tea and sharing food. That changed when they laid eyes on Cojisto and I.

Almost as one, the guards placed their hands on their swords. They didn’t draw, but it was clear that they were suspicious of us newcomers. The room was surprisingly tense for a simple meeting.

Justisius raised his hands to placate them, and they turned to regard the man.

“Peace, peace,” he said soothingly. “These are my companions from outside of the city. They are simply going to be observers. Just like myself, they are interested in how there could be a dungeon in the wonderful city of Laroda.”

I raised my hand, my badge already in it, and let it fall open. Other than that, I gave them a nod instead of an introduction. Cojisto, on my insistence, stayed quiet as well.

“I’ll get the prince,” one of the guards in the back said before going through the door. His companions appeared to calm down, but they kept throwing suspicious glances my way.

Not letting it bother me, I stood with my arms crossed and took in the room. I simply tried not to look threatening.

Cojisto knocked me on the shoulder, and I looked up at him. “Maybe try smiling?” he suggested.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

I frowned. “I am keeping my face neutral,” I whispered back.

That seemed to surprise him. “You are?” he asked. “I thought you were trying to look mad or something.”

“I’m not. I am mad, but I’m not letting them know that,” I replied.

“Huh, maybe your face just rests that way,” he muttered, stroking his chin as he observed me.

I glared at him before returning my face to its same neutral position.

Then, because Cojisto got in my head, I tried tilting up the corner of my lips. Not a smile, but less… whatever he thought I was trying to emote.

“Oh, no, not like that,” he whispered quickly. “Don’t do that, Badger.”

I rolled my eyes. Now I had to hide my scowl, too. Likely unsuccessfully, going by the weird glances I got from the guards. Either way, it didn’t matter. I ignored the slight smile Justisius had on his lips and waited.

When the exiled son appeared, he made a spectacle of it. Guards started pouring in from the room’s far exit. I nearly grabbed my sword before Justisius told me to stand down. They moved in two lines, with one heading left and the other right to line the walls. Each carried a spear, but they looked more ceremonial than practical.

Next came dancers, Dwarven women in colorful, flowing garb. They also moved in two lines, followed by a pair of men, one playing a sitar and the other a pair of tablas. We watched, politely silent, as the women sat around the column, looking at us behind their waving fans.

Finally, the honor guard. Their clothing was similar to the ones we had seen so far, but they wore lightweight armor trimmed in gold. They carried the banner of the exiled son, the three armed cactus, and came to the bottom of the stairs.

“Announcing… Prince Kabare!” a herald cried, and the women swooned.

I’m sure somebody would have found it very impressive, but I only thought it was a waste of time.

A Dwarven man walked through the doors, wearing clothes even finer than the minister’s. His vibrant greens and yellows accentuated his black hair, though his immaculate beard was trimmed short. A big smile was on his face, but something immediately seemed off about the man.

“Inspector! You have made me wait today!” Kabare yelled across the hall, though it didn’t really sound like a complaint. “I heard you have brought me more unexpected guests!”

The mention of other unexpected guests caused us to pause. It was a momentary thing, and Justisius was soon walking towards the other man. Cojisto and I fell into step behind him as the Junior Dungeon Inspectors moved away from the guards to stand by the minister.

“That’s far enough,” Kabare ordered as we made it to the fountain. He had stopped on the other side, and Justisius did as he was told. I scowled, but had agreed to follow his lead on this one.

“Prince Kabare,” the other Inspector greeted, his voice jovial despite the circumstances. “Perhaps you could enlighten us to these other unexpected guests of yours. We may be willing to take them off your hands for you. After all, it was not you who brought them here.”

The Dwarf gave us a rakish smile and raised his hands. “I’m afraid I cannot do that, my friend,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “You see, they have found their way into my dungeon, unannounced, and stumbled across my secrets. You know how much I enjoy my secrets, Inspector.”

Justisius nodded. “And you are, of course, entitled to your secrets,” he agreed. “However, could you not at least share with us how they got there? We are confused by the events that have transpired.”

“At least share,” I repeated, muttering unhappily to myself.

“Another dungeon secret,” Kabare tutted, shaking his head. “I’m afraid you’re just going to have to trust me that no harm will come to them. Have we not built up our rapport? Am I not to be trusted?”

“I do trust you, Prince Kabare, and if you say that they are unharmed then I will believe you.”

The Dwarf smirked. “They have not been harmed since their arrival, no,” he claimed. “And it was hard to keep them in that state, if I may say. Tension was high, and the mood could have easily snapped if I had not worked so hard to keep the peace. In fact, I should be praised for my efforts.”

“You have done well to protect them, Prince Kabare,” Justisius said with a respectful nod. “However, there must be something you can give us. I’m afraid that, while I trust you, there are some here that don’t know you as well as I do.”

Kabare’s eyes flicked to me, and his smile deepened. “Ah, yes, the Department of Dungeon’s faithful attack dog,” he said enthusiastically. “I had been assured that you would rampage through my new home, slaying every single one of us without mercy. Imagine my surprise that you’re this… tame.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and managed to keep my mouth shut.

“I would not do that if I were you,” Justisius said, his eyes now firmly on me and his voice quick. “It is not wise to poke this particular bear.”

The Dwarf laughed. “But what is life without thrill, Inspector?” he asked. “The blonde one was adamant about the fact that her senior would come for her. It is quite pathetic, really, now that I see you in person. Chained by the fact that you cannot act without knowing where or how she is.”

The taste of blood hit my tongue, and I stopped biting my cheek. Kabare’s joy at the predicament was sickening. My body rebelled against my thoughts; I knew he had all the cards, but all I wanted to do was rip them up and flip the table.

“Justisius,” I said through gritted teeth. “How many more guards would you say this asshole has?”

Kabare’s eyes narrowed, but my fellow Inspector opened his mouth to speak first. “Roughly half again as many as this.”

“Is that all,” I replied flatly.

That put a dangerous look in the exile’s eyes for a moment, but it was interrupted by someone coming in through the same doors Kabare had. The Dwarf wasn’t dressed like a guard, and instead had ink on his sleeves and fingers. He was running, almost sprinting towards us.

“I am busy, Damartan,” Kabare said, holding up a hand as he swiftly walked towards the newcomer.

“Second in command,” Justisius whispered before nudging me. “You need to get yourself together. I know you’d rather bash skulls than entertain this man, but we need more information.”

I grunted my acknowledgement, but didn’t say anything. Kabare and his underling were whispering to each other, becoming more and more frantic before the prince yelled, “They what!?”

In that second, with that proclamation, I decided to act. I rushed forward, ignoring my longsword still in its scabbard. Kabare turned towards me as I jumped over the fountain, eyes wide. He backpedaled, but I was faster. Much faster.

He made for a piss poor dungeon boss, if this was how he acted in an ambush.

Instead of slaying him where he stood, I grabbed him by his robe and arm and lifted. The ceremonial guards lowered their spears and approached, but by then I was already running. I had struck with the element of surprise.

Justisius and Cojisto both raised their fists in a fighting stance while the Junior Dungeon Inspectors ushered the minister out of the room. I passed by the two Humans as they fought and retreated at the same time. My fellow Inspector wasn’t a pugilist like Cojisto, but he was handy enough to survive a scrap like this for the few seconds I needed.

Heaving, I threw Kabare out of the room. He sailed through the air, crashing against the door before sliding across the tiled floor. I pulled my longsword out of its scabbard as he tried to get up, and skidded to a stop next to him, the blade flush against his neck.

“Do you feel that?” I asked him seriously.

At first, he looked ready to argue, and then recognition flashed in his eyes. Kabare stammered, not forming his words properly.

I allowed myself a savage grin. “No dungeon, no immortality,” I told him, catharsis setting in. “Now, call off your guards, or this blade will be the last thing you ever feel.”

Kabare nodded, all of his bravado and self-confidence gone as he transformed into what he really was: a miserable excuse for a man.