I awoke to the suddenly unfamiliar feeling of lying on an actual bed, with a roof over my head. Even without the sunlight streaming through tree branches to guide me, my internal clock had still declared that I'd wasted enough time.
With a grunt, I swung my legs off the mattress, my feet still throbbing from the events of the day before. Slipping my arm through the sleeves of my undershirt, I try my best to ignore the thick coating of dirt and grime permeating my once clean outfit.
Just then, as I finished buttoning up my vest, my eye caught a scrap of parchment resting conspicuously on the floor by the door. Cautiously, I stepped over and picked it up, feeling a tightness coil around my chest as I read the hastily-written note.
Wicket,
Got to move on now. Good luck, and watch out for those crawly beasties.
- K
My eyes kept scanning the words over and over, even as they became stained from the droplets hitting the parchment.
He's gone. He left.
Sure, Kerich and I hadn't been traveling together long, but I still saw him as a close friend in that time. I'd at least have expected a proper goodbye, instead of just… this.
Stuffing the paper in my pocket, I forced down my self-pity and pushed myself back to my feet.
Opening the door, I ventured out into the hallway, unsure of where exactly to go. Luckily, the sound of scraping metal and the aroma of fresh, savory stew led me towards the common room.
Shuffling inside, I heard the busy chatter of the crowd, the rows of dining tables occupied by Inspectors and Wardens alike. I gave a gentle wave of the hand as I walked by, before finding myself a bowl and tray and making my way over to the pot of stew.
After scooping myself a generous helping of meat and potatoes, the hearty aroma wafting through the air, a welcome chance from the dried rations and unseasoned fowl from the days before, I turned around to look over the room..
A few seconds of searching later, I spotted an opening at the far table. Two figures, one in the familiar uniform of an Inspector, the other garbed in the simpler travel clothes of a Warden, met my gaze and waved me over. As I approached, the Inspector- a younger woman with sharp features and neatly braided hair- gave me a light smile.
“Arin Wicket, I presume?”
I blinked, honestly not expecting to be recognized so quickly. “Y-yes. I just got here last night.” I responded, receiving a small nod in return.
“I'm Anya Pierce. Nice to finally meet you.”
Beside her a rather lanky Warden with rough hands and a kind yet stoic expression gave his own gentle nod. “Moritz.”
“My pleasure,” I responded, taking a seat across from them. Taking a bite of my stew, reveling a bit in the rather simple meal, Anya retrieved a folder from her binder and set it on the table in front of me.
“After you get done there, here's the file on our assignment.”
I almost dropped my spoon in surprise, before catching myself. “A-Already?”
“Well, you did arrive later than anticipated. But luckily, a minor dungeon just a bit out to the east needs to be inspected and cleared. They’re sending a team; Two Junior Inspectors, one Junior Warden, to do the job.” She scanned my disheveled form. “They were going to pull someone off training duty, before your… Miraculous appearance…”
I winced a bit at the unsubtle barb, swiftly finishing what was left of my food before casting the empty bowl to the side. Reaching over to the folder, I opened it and gave a look over the file.
“The Queen’s Cellar,” I read aloud. “Type: Infestation, Spider - Royal. Contained within an old storehouse’s basement.” Wait, spiders? Did Kerich know I already had this assignment?
Moritz nodded. “That’s the one. Not the most glorious job, but important work all the same. It’s usually looked over by a third party, but they’ve called us in for a yearly inspection.”
Anya pulled the file from my hands and closed with a decisive snap, startling me slightly. “No time like the present, then.” She gave me a look up and down, her eyebrows furling slightly. “Moritz, how’s our resident spider expert’s gear situation?”
Moritz chuckled deeply, shaking his head. “From what I understand, Inspector Wicket here might benefit from a supply room visit. Standard Issue should have everything we need.” His mouth quirked up in a small, near unnoticeable smirk. “And perhaps a chance for him to wash the road off him.”
My ears burned a bit in embarrassment. “Lead the way, then.”
Anya stood from her seat, gesturing for us to follow. Before long, the three of us were weaving our way through the many corridors of the building.
“First things first.” Anya began, still looking forward as we walked. “Our assignment is a bit of an oddity, dungeon wise, but we won’t need any specialty tools for it. Though, we should at least grab some oil from a general store before we leave town.”
Before long, She led us down a side-corridor to a heavy wooden door marked “SUPPLY”. Inside, there was a well organized inventory of inspection necessities: Leather bags, various vials and small boxes likely containing antidotes and poultices, with neatly rolled bundles of clean cloth beside them. An array of weapons lined another wall. Swords of all sizes and shapes, specialized maces, even a few bows hung off to the side above quivers of arrows.
The three of us fanned out throughout the room, the two of them clearly picking through items with purpose. I, meanwhile, was left alone to aimlessly float around looking at the various items wondering what I could, and should, bring. Kerich would probably know.
Soon I stood before the weapons wall, staring up at it nervously. Hesitantly, I reached out and grabbed one of the smaller shortswords, slowly pulling it from its sheath. I held it out in front of me, feeling the weight of the weapon in my hand.
We did get some minor weapons training at the inspector academy, but I was never much good at it, and never took any of the advanced courses. To be honest, I always thought back then that I wouldn't ever need it, that the Guard would be there to help.
For a moment, my mind flashed back to yesterday. Watching Kerich fend off waves of undead mere feet away, arrows sailing inches from my face. Realizing only now just how close we came.
With a deep breath, I put the blade back in its sheath and set it beside my other belongings. Better safe than sorry.
Moving back over to the travel supplies, I see Anya walking up next to me with a small rucksack in her hand.
“So what was your elective, Wicket?” she asked.
“Cartography, actually. I’ve always been interested in map making and such. What about you?” I responded, inspecting a small wooden case before stuffing it and another in my bag.
“Oh… Mine was quite a bit less utilitarian.” She trailed off, reaching down to her belt and took out a pair of long straight daggers. “Anatomy.”
I feel the color drain from my face as my eyes snap to hers.. “Monster anatomy.” She finished with a wry smile.
Shaking my head with a sigh, I grabbed one of the folded up charcoal-gray uniforms from the shelf and made my way to the washroom across the hall. After a hard-fought battle of determination and resolve, I finally rid myself of the filth from the week's travel, dressing myself in my new -and clean- outfit.
Stepping back into the hallway, I found the others already waiting for me by the door. “So, we’re all ready to head out?”
“First,” Anya declared, raising a finger. “Paperwork.”
She once again began leading us through the many halls of the complex, finally coming up to the Dungeon Center’s main offices. The room was abuzz with activity, paper and ink suffusing nearly every open space as dozens of interns and record-keepers ran back and forth between them.
Slinking our way through the chaos, we made it to a private office in the back of the room. An older clerk sat at his desk in the office, and as soon as he noticed us enter, brandished his quill like a weapon, thrusting it towards us without looking up from his table.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Inspection details,” he demanded pointedly, the tired scowl seeming almost burned onto his features.
“Inspection team departing, two Juniors, one Junior Warden. Destination: The Queen’s Cellar, routine external and internal inspection. Warden Moritz, Inspector Anya Pierce, and…Inspector Arin Wicket.” Anya rattled off quickly, her voice stilted and monotone.
The clerk scratched the information onto a fresh sheet, muttering to himself. "Pierce, Moritz, Wicket... Briarwood's operation, that one? Hmm..."
He clucked his tongue disapprovingly, stamping the sheet with a loud ka-thunk. "Off you go then. Do try to return in one piece, will you? Not everyone's cut out for spider wrangling."
“Of course, sir.” Anya replied, giving a stiff bow as she took the form. We quickly shuffled back into the corridor, the completed paperwork rolled tightly in Anya’s hand.
“Don’t mind old Edgar,” Anya said, suddenly looking much more nonchalant. “He’s been shuffling forms longer than some monsters have been alive.”
Though I wanted to agree and let it go, but couldn't help but notice the chill across my spine dissipate only once we were out of sight of the office.
Together, we finally stepped out into the mid-morning sun. After the many days of gloomy overcast I had been traveling through before, it was quite the welcome change. In the clear light, even the South Dungeon Center took on a less imposing image, perhaps even inspiring.
A quiet whinny behind me, and I saw Moritz was patiently saddling a trio of horses, occasionally glancing our way. "Well? You’re not going to have carriages for every trip, you know. Let's get moving.”
----------------------------------------
Our journey towards The Queen’s Cellar was quite smooth, all things considered. Despite the fact I hadn’t been in a saddle like this since I was a boy, the horses seemed familiar with the roads and kept us on a good pace.. As we drew nearer to the dungeon the sun-spotted path through the woods should have been a calming retreat before the real work began, But I couldn't help but feel that something within seemed wrong.
Then, I noticed it. A strange stillness in the forest. There was no birdsong, and even the rustling of the leaves seemed dampened. Just the hollow echoing clack of the horses footsteps through the trees, as the streaming sunlight grew dim.
My grip on the reins tightened nervously. This is it.
Our steeds continued forwards, every creaking branch amplifying the unnatural quiet permeating the air. Then, a flash of silvery white caught my eye high among the branches. My stomach lurched as I realized what it was: webbing, stretched across the gap between two dying trees, glistening in the pale light.
Before I could point it out to the others, a loud bellowing sound echoed from ahead. We pulled to a stop, scanning the forest around us, and found the source of the sound.
A large buck, tangled and bound in a monstrous web. It struggled weakly, its eyes wide with terror,, and with each desperate movement it made, it drove itself deeper into the trap.
“Spider webs?” Moritz asked aloud. “I didn’t think we were that close to the dungeon already.”
Anya had already dismounted her horse. “Doesn’t matter. Help me get it out.”
Moritz and I quickly dismounted and rushed over to the struggling deer. Anya had already drawn her dagger and was beginning to cut away at the thick strands of webbing that bound the animal.
We worked together quickly, carefully avoiding the buck’s thrashing antlers. Slowly but surely, we managed to free them from its sticky prison. With a final tug, the buck was free. It stood there for a moment, trembling and exhausted, before it turned and bolted away into the forest. We watched it go, relieved that we had been able to help it.
“That was close.” Anya said. “I doubt whatever spun this web would leave prey stuck in it for long.”
Moritz shook his head and inspected the webs covering his knife. “It’s gonna take forever to clean this off.” he remarked before sheathing it. I pulled out my journal and made a hasty note about us finding the webs in the forest before we mounted our horses again.
As we approached the location, a sturdy wooden building came into view. On a deck out front, a middle aged man stood, sporting neatly trimmed hair and an impeccably tailored tunic, waiting for us.
“Ah, you must be the inspection team!” The man greeted us with a curt bow, a practiced smile curving his lips. “I’m Reginald Briarwood, Private Warden contracted by the esteemed Silverthread Consortium. A pleasure, truly, to welcome representatives of our Empire.”
Reginald waved us forward. “If you would, please follow me. We’ll need to head below for your inspection, but perhaps we could discuss some details over a warm drink first.”
He turned and strolled calmly into the dungeon without a second thought. Anya, Moritz and I exchanged worried glances before dismounting and hitching our horses out front and entering.
Through the arched doorway was not the decrepit dungeon I had expected, but instead a surprisingly well-lit room. Its stone walls had been neatly whitewashed, with tapestries hung over them surrounded by tasteful furnishings and dark maroon cushions. A roaring fire dispelled any trace of the springtime chill, with the scent of cinnamon and roasting apples coming from a kettle over the fire.
We carefully sat on the couch together, odd spider themed throw pillows nestled in-between us.
“As you may have gathered.” Briarwood began, as he poured steaming mugs for each of us. "The Queen's Cellar boasts… shall we say, a unique infestation. While it's primarily inhabited by Royal Spiders, you may have noticed our smaller denizens."
As if on cue, dozens of thumb-sized spiders descended from the ceiling on near-invisible strands, settling into the nooks and crannies of the room. I flinched away uncontrollably, toes curling in my boots. Even Anya raised an eyebrow, pulling her hands up and watching the eight-legged onlookers with a hint of distaste. Only Moritz seemed completely unbothered, the stone-faced warden simply giving his contemporary a quirked eyebrow.
“These,” he continued, gesturing broadly as one of them landed gently in his palm, crawling between his splayed fingers unerringly., “are younglings. Quite harmless actually. We find they keep more troublesome pests at bay. Their older, more sizable sisters-” He chuckled. “Tend to stick to the deeper levels.”
Anya accepted a mug and took a quiet sip, not before glancing at the cup for intrusions. “Is this the space you use as living quarters?” She scanned the room. “Seems awfully close to be safe.”
Briarwood smirked, setting the spider on the ground to skitter away. “Ah, my friend. I can assure you, I’m perfectly safe. Part of my contract with the Silverthread Group involves managing the flow of… inhabitants. I have… methods, shall we say, to keep our more dangerous occupants down below.”
Moritz spoke up. “If not for the Royal Spiders being rather territorial towards other varieties, this dungeon would be far more dangerous, yes? Is that why The Empire permits this operation?”
“Quite so,” Briarwood confirmed. “Royal Spiders are not generally aggressive to humans, not unless seriously provoked. They see most other pests as intrusive and... treat them accordingly.
He took a satisfied sip of his drink. "And since their silk offers quite substantial profits, everyone tends to be rather satisfied with this arrangement."
He clapped his hands together. “Now, let me get suited up for the inspection,” he said, disappearing around a corner. I couldn’t help but notice on the back of his tunic, a large embroidered spider.
“Suited up?” Anya and I asked in unison.
A moment of silence, stretching uncomfortably. Then, Briarwood reemerged. The sight froze me mid-breath.
No longer in his tailored tunic, he wore a garment like nothing I'd ever seen. Silken, yes, but woven so tightly it was nearly opaque, an odd milky white with an unsettling sheen. The suit covered him head to toe, even his hands disappearing into thick gloves. With practiced ease, he lowered a bulbous helmet, with twin eye holes the size of coins, down over his face.
Then, without any hint of irony, he asked, "You brought your own suits, right?"
Anya was the first to find her voice. “N-no, is that..
necessary?” Her usual composure was strained, which only furthered my own worry.
Briarwood, his features now shielded by the pale helmet, gave a dismissive chuckle. "For inspection? Absolutely not. But, we will be venturing close to their primary nesting grounds. While Royal Spiders won't attack needlessly, precautions are wise. They’ve got a penchant for setting up web traps near the nests. Just... think of it as a beekeeper’s suit."
That wasn’t exactly reassuring, but it at least explained the bizarre suit. A small chuckle escaped me at the situation, which seemed to ease a bit of the others' tension.
“I apologize, but I’ve only got the one full suit, but I can at least provide you some protection.” A small, locked trunk nestled against the back wall swung open as he approached. From it he withdrew three bundles of the same pearly fabric, along with several sets of thick gloves and padded boot coverings. “I don’t have helmets for you, but the most problematic areas will be covered.”
Anya looked from the bundle in her hands to Briarwood, then back, before carefully pulling the silken cover over her and donning the gloves and boot covers. Moritz and I followed suit.
The clothing felt odd, almost alien, not like regular clothing at all. Even though the gloves were thick and bulky, I felt like I could feel what they were touching as if they weren’t even there.
As we approached the stairs down, I took a deep breath and shook my hands, trying to wick away the discomfort. Just an unpleasant part of the job, Wicket, nothing more. It was only as Briarwood led us through a shadowy archway that I witnessed a strange sight: a plump, iridescent spider struggling, tangled in the same threads I now wore.
The sight of the spider thrashing about gave me goosebumps. Its legs moved frantically, only pushing itself further into the entangling webs. Yet Briarwood simply watched, carefully observing the trapped monster. Before I could speak up he stepped forward, careful to not step on any patches of web if he could avoid it.
“Ah, yes. The youngsters sometimes get a bit in over their heads.” he remarked, clearly amused with himself. He reached out towards the spider and I nearly flinched yet again. With an unnerving calmness, he grasped the silken threads near the spider’s head and began slowly tugging them free. As if sensing it was being helped, the spider abruptly ceased its writhing and leaned into Briarwood’s touch.
Thread by thread, he freed the trapped creature. With a final pull, the spider landed safely on a nearby wall, scuttling off into the shadows with unsettling speed.. “Stay safe, little lady!” He called out to the creature, giving a cordial wave.
"See? Perfectly manageable," Briarwood announced, crossing his arms proudly as he turned to face us. “Now, let’s not dally here in the entranceway.”
We continued to follow him down the stairway into the depth of the dungeon. Despite my wariness, It was impossible not to notice just how clean and well-maintained the space was. Earthen walls had been reinforced, wooden support beams held up what once was a crumbing ceiling. Even the air lacked the heavy dampness I’d expected from a dungeon’s depths.
As we emerged onto the main level, a tall and spacious room with tables and workstations arranged like church pews, I let out a long-held breath, glad not to see any of the “denizens” about. Most likely, the actual den is still down below.
As I leaned my head back to look up at the ceiling though, all I saw were hundreds of beady, reflective eyes staring back at me.