Bartender took a sip from his newly concocted brew. Lemon and apple... not the best tasting, but good enough for his first go at it. While he was plenty content polishing the same tankard for days on end, it did get boring occasionally. So, he had started brewing his own mead using ingredients found around the tavern. They were created by DM to be sold, but the Dungeon probably wouldn't mind if he used a few.

The orc looked over his counter and around the tavern. Besides a few recent events, it was the same thing every day. Tavern-goers drank, they played games, someone lost and started a fight, but in the end, all bad blood was made good again. Anyone else would've been bored out of their minds, but not Bartender. This was his home. He had only been alive for... a week? Whatever amount of time had passed, he savored every moment. That's how he was created, but even if he was born normally, Bartender was sure that he'd end up in a situation like this eventually. Deep down, it's who he was.

A familiarly robed figure approached as he lifted another gallon of experimental brew onto a shelf. “What can I do for you, DM?” Bartender returned to his normal position behind his counter. “I presume this meeting has something to do with the encounter earlier?”

“Somewhat,” DM's shadowy form replied. “I'd like to speak with you privately.” He motioned toward the tavern door.

“Are you sure we can't just speak in here?” Bartender grabbed his polishing tankard, now reflective as a mirror. “I'm sure they won't eavesdrop,” he motioned toward the crowd, “you created them, after all.”

“Very well, you do make a good point,” DM said. “I came here to compliment your performance during the interaction a few hours ago, and to make you an offer.”

“Hmm?” Bartender expected him to come; that was the first time he had ever spoken with anyone outside the dungeon, but an offer was interesting.

“You did entirely what was expected of you,” DM sat down and picked up a drink. “Some very useful information was revealed to me during that conversation. However, what surprised me is how you took some initiative, which should be expected, I suppose, but I am used to things I create being entirely controlled by me.”

He held his tankard out and Bartender poured him some wine.

“You're naturally a leader, and I want you to embrace that,” DM said. “Perhaps lead a battalion of monsters, maybe even rule over an entire floo--”

“Would it require leaving The Tavern?” Bartender set down his polishing tankard, leaned on the table, and stared at DM.

“Yes, it would,” DM answered.

“Then I refuse.” Bartender wouldn't leave the tavern, at least not without a fight. It was quite odd, though; DM created him this way, so he should know better than anyone.

“Are you sure?” DM returned his stare, not that Bartender could see his eyes.

Bartender nodded.

DM sighed. “Very well, then.” He put down his cup and left, leaving Bartender to tend the bar. He wouldn't have it any other way.

----------------------------------------

Well, that pretty much confirmed it. Sapient monsters, when left alone even for a day, had far less allegiance to Jared, to the point of flat out denying his requests. It was the expected outcome, but still worth testing for. There were a few other things he was curious about. How would the dungeon react if a sapient monster rebelled? Would the other monsters consider it hostile and attack? While Jared was curious, he also hoped he would never find the answer.

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Jared mostly put on a show when he talked with Bartender, but at least one thing was true. He had learned a lot of useful things from his conversation with the adventurers. If they could be taken at their word, which was reasonable to believe, especially since they had a paladin, then he knew how long the town built around him had been standing and how many adventurers could delve into the dungeon. What was most concerning was whatever “unrest in the Adventurers Guild” meant.

From their reactions, during the entire time he had been around, had been that of surprise. Some of the adventurers seemed skilled, so it definitely wasn't a lack of experience leading to their reaction. No, it was Jared.

He would've liked to be able to prepare a bit more before attracting attention, but it was too late for that now. As the saying went, out of the frying pan and into the fire.

The progress on the Fifth Floor was going as expected. Jared had mostly finished carving out the area and was now filling up the water portions.

It surprised him how much energy water took to make, at least in large amounts. The river of the Fourth couldn't compare to the volume of an entire underground lake and he was feeling it energy-wise. It would be wise to keep a reserve of energy, especially with unknown threats on the horizon. It would slow down progress on building floors, but in an emergency it would be worth it. With a mental sigh, Jared held back his production of water.

Even though he had completed carving out the Fifth Floor, Jared still felt like he had energy to spare. Looking back at it, when the adventurers were in The Tavern Jared felt an increase in energy generation. It made sense; in most stories dungeons passively generated energy when adventurers were present. But the odd thing was when Finnel entered the dungeon, he felt the same energy increase.

Finnel wasn't alone, though. Alongside him were two of the adventurers who stayed behind and didn't go to The Tavern. Jared didn't know their names; they were pretty unremarkable, a cleric and an archer.

They cleared through the First Floor with some difficulty. Finnel adjusted to his role as a roguish fighter well, even more so considering he was created only a few days before. He dodged attacks well, and even if he wasn't doing that much damage, he was distracting foes and hitting weak points. Perhaps simple monsters were more capable than Jared thought...

Finnel blended into the shadows, sneaking away from his party who were collecting loot. He made his way to Jared's core room and struck a familiar bowing position. “Milord, I have returned to you, albeit briefly I'm afraid.”

“That is fine,” Jared said, “be brief, however.” The other adventurers didn't seem to have noticed his disappearance yet. “What do you have to report?”

“The settlers have accepted me as their own,” Finnel raised his head. “I have found a 'party' willing to 'delve' with me. I shall not trouble you with their names, sire; they are far below you and of no importance. But that aside, are these terms unknown to you? I had not, and I feared for my cover when they were surprised at the fact, but they seemed to have believed that I am merely foreign.”

“I know them well. Please, continue.”

“I should have expected no less.” The doppelganger stood up. “Just before I came here, the Guildmaster gave an announcement in reference to your other creations, milord. He laid out two rules: that no adventurer may attack the residents of The Tavern unless provoked, and that no adventurer must venture past it.”

It made sense. If you came upon an unprecedented sapient dungeon, it would be wise not to provoke it. “Is this all?”

“I'm afraid not.” Finnel turned his head down and frowned. “There have been rumors, prominent ones, that a special force from the Guild Headquarters has been sent to investigate you and will arrive in a few weeks. The Guildmaster here has done nothing to deny them.”

That was troubling news, but it was expected. “This troubles me, but it should not trouble you. You have done well. Continue with your duties as you have until now.”

“I deserve no such praise, milord. I am doing naught but keeping my ears open.”

Farewells were exchanged and Finnel regrouped with his party without notice.

Finnel stayed toward the rear of the party's formation as they walked towards the exit. When both adventurers had left, Finnel turned around and bowed in the general direction of Jared's dungeon core.

Only when Finnel left did the increase in energy generation die down.