A strangely hairless and wrinkled old Minotaur stood tall in the center of a room, his room. His twin horns curled majestically towards the ceiling just inches above his head. Three doors were nestled into the grey stone behind him, and two adventurers waited in front. They were the impatient sort of men, much like most of the youths he met, yet these were not minotaurs or beastkin. They were orcs—young bullheaded fools seeking glory and adventure in a place that usually only gave out death. Having resided in this room for decades, well past the time these visitors were bone, he knew their fate as surely as though he had lived it, which in some ways he had. People came in, people left, people died; a pattern ingrained into the very essence of the energy congregating here from the rest of the labyrinth.

The smaller of the pair, and a scout if he were to guess, took the initiative in speaking first, “So, you are saying two of these doors lead to the most powerful weapon we could imagine?”

The Minotaur, Declan, nodded, speaking evenly to the nervously twitching boy, “That is indeed the truth, young sir! Two wrong, one right choice. Quite simple if you ask me.”

“So, then, what is your role here? Our trip through this labyrinth would have taken much longer than it has if we had some old bull walking us through each step.”

Had there been even a shred of sympathy left in his decidedly ‘not’ old bones, then it would have vanished. Declan winced internally at the orc’s disregard for polite conversation. He had hardly even considered their race as a factor in what was to come, which he would have had been justified to do, but instead, he had meant to give them an equal chance along with any that entered his domain. That courtesy was no longer necessary.

His voice hid any strain or shift in mood when he answered, “Well, my ‘role’ here is to guide you to your final destination. Else it is a tad unfair, the odds being only one in three, most traps in this place are meant to be easily discernible to the clever adventurer, and not a complete gamble like this would be without my involvement. I will let you know now, as per this role, I cannot lie once the challenge has begun or may the magic infused in this chamber strike me dead where I stand.”

“Cannot lie? That should be useful. But truths can be disguised. Are you the helpful or harmful sort of assistant in this choosing?

Declan took a new look at his opponent. Most warriors lacked the know-how to challenge his purpose. The brawny warrior hanging back beside the scout looked more like the kind of adventurer he normally met: dumb and gullible. “Helpful, I would say. I will do my very best to help you make your choice.”

“And which choice would that be?” asked the young man with a now confident smirk on his scarred face.

“The correct one, of course,” he replied, trying and mostly succeeding to keep his own smile hidden. In his experience, being ‘mostly’ successful was enough, and ‘old bulls’ like himself needed to have fun too.

“So, which is it? The correct door?”

Declan debated how he wanted to reply, briefly considering drawing it out, but it was almost time for lunch. He never missed lunch, “The middle one.”

Both orcs did a double-take at his casual response, “ … It can’t be that easy.”

Declan’s grin was barely stopped before they noticed it. It seemed no matter how securely he tucked it away; it always seemed to float back to the surface. He swallowed down any satisfaction, leaving his demeanor as expressionless as marble.

“Does knowing the correct path not remove the burden of choice? Seems to me you should have an easier go of it now that you know where to go! I cannot lie after all.”

“I don’t trust you,” the larger orc spoke at last.

He raised his eyebrow muscle, causing the bone to shift on his gaunt face. With no hair covering it, the effect was lessened, but his lack of interest still managed to shine through, “Ah, such is the beauty of this challenge. I cannot lie, but you cannot trust me. A conundrum for certain.”

The scout placed a calming hand on the slowly reddening face of his companion and spoke almost placatingly to them both, “ It’s just… if it was this easy, we would have learned of this trap already or of a great weapon like you claim exists here. Yet, I have never heard of either.”

Declan let out a large dramatic sigh, “I said it would be powerful, but power is subjective. What is a powerful tool to you would be different than what it is to me or the next person to enter. You also assume that the magic of this place allows those who complete it to remember their experience. Preparation would defeat the purpose of these trials.”

“I can understand that, I guess, so it's not a weapon?”

“Oh no, it is a weapon. One that would allow you to defeat opponents twice your level without breaking a sweat. Although that level of competency does take time to reach.”

The orcs looked a each other in confusion before the second one spoke, “Will there be two weapons?”

The scout looked suspiciously at his former companion, and Declan decided lunch could be pushed back a few minutes if necessary. It was rare that two people made it this far. They usually ended up killing one another long before. He decided to see how loyal these two were, “No. Each person or group to enter this challenge only receives one reward.”

Both tensed, and Declan hoped no blood would splash on his clean tunic. It would be a pain to wash it before the next visitor. Alas, they seemed to decide against it at the last moment. Hmm, better get them moving then, he thought, bored again. “Which door do you choose.”

They both ignored him “ Say, beast, have you seen the treasure?”

He smiled, nodding his head in affirmative, “Yes, indeed, you would be shocked at its splendor.”

“What is it, exactly?”

Such curiously from a mere grunt! At this point, people usually started at least approaching the doors, yet these two had not moved from their original positions. Quite smart for most challenges, and he could see how they had made it this far. “It is a unique weapon or magic, depending on your definition of both, that will bend foes to your very whim and give you untold influence.”

The scout looked doubtful once again, “Then why don’t you possess this treasure? I thought you Minotaurs ruled this realm.”

“We do, but I was stationed here because I lack the need for such magic and cannot be tempted to steal it away.”

Their eyes shown with greed. If Declan’s memory was correct, their race rarely could learn to harness mana on their own, which explained their excitement. “So, the middle path leads to this magic?”

He gave them his best patient smile, “ If you wish to understand this magic, then the middle path will lead you there, and you will certainly be able to see what it signifies despite your kind’s usual difficulty.”

The warrior moved to approach the middle door immediately while the other hesitated, “What of the left or right? Do they both lead to magic?” His friend, or maybe rival, paused halfway to the door and just to the side of Declan to hear his answer.

“One does not.” Neither of them moved. Declan retained his placating smile and calm demeanor.

The scout was truly impatient now, “Which one?”

Declan continued to stare straight with no change to his pleasant if unsettling, expression.

The big orc balled a fist menacingly in his peripheral vision, “Well? Answer.”

He let out another sigh and moved to the side of the room where a small fountain sat and took a long drink of the cool refreshing water. “Your questions begin to bore. What kind of game is it if your opponent is such a poor player?”

Declan’s left eyebrow twitched as he said this last statement. This was the most fun he had had in a good long while, and he did not want the game to end so soon. He hoped his excitement wasn’t too obvious. For now, however, the men seemed oblivious to his inner struggle; was postponing his regular routine worth dealing with these potentially troublesome invaders? Yes, he decided, it was. Group dynamics made for a much more diverse playing field.

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The scout continued to speak for his team, “Why? Is this life or death decision such a game to you?! I ought to shiv you where you stand! See if you take this seriously then!”

He shugged nonpulsed, “How do you think I lost my teeth and hair, eh? Go ahead! Only I know which path leads to the treasure, and you just destroyed any inclination I had to share more information. I hope you like one in three odds,” he gave them a pointed stare, “I’ll wait for you on the other side since I won’t be dying today. “

The scout’s inhale of rage was loud in the round chamber, “How many…. How many have perished in an attempt to claim the treasure?”

Declan had to consider whether or not to answer but ultimately decided the torment it would bring them was worth going against his previous statements. “Almost a hundred heroes and heroines. Though far more male adventures fall to this trial, I wonder why, hmm..”

“And none have claimed the treasure?! Not exactly one in three odds.”

“What can I say? I’m good at what I do, and I never said none have passed through. You may have misunderstood me,” he raised an arm in a half hearted shrug.

The scout’s eyes widened, “Ah-ha! So you are trying to protect the treasure! So you are the sabotaging type of advisor… Which means the middle path cannot be the correct path!” He shared a look with the warrior, and they evaluated the two side doors in contemplation.

“That’s a fair deduction,” said Declan, mildly annoyed at the circular nature of their talk, yet also pleased since few made him think as much as this pair.

“So, what did you tell the other heroes? Do you always tell people to choose the middle path?”

Ooh! The youth was trying to be clever, thought the minotaur appreciatively. “I tell them what they need to hear to make their choice.”

The warrior was unimpressed, “That is hardly an answer.”

“I said I had to be honest, not that I have to answer,” replied Declan flippantly.

The scout, who must have been a genius among his people or wise enough to increase his intelligence artificially, tried once again to outsmart him, “Let me phrase this question a different way than before: what would happen to me if I were to choose the left door?

He let the smile slip this time, “You would learn a great deal, and then, eventually, die.”

The warrior replied this time, “And the right?”

“Something similar, except I expect you’d have an easier go of it.” His smile stayed wide on his face, making the wrinkled stand out, stark against his pale skin.

“What do you mean, easier go of it?” asked the smalled orc with a frown.

Declan paused to think before answering, “Easier to digest is what I am going for. “ He could not tell whose mouth brought forth the following sigh, and from their pinched expressions, it could have been either.

“… Hmmm….”

The warrior walked up to the three doors and inspected their paneling, door handles, and frames. Declan made use of this break to take another swig of water. Sweet talking adventures sure is thirsty work, he thought, thinking whimsically about his comfy chair and tasty meal awaiting him. Gerald made a mental note to hydrate better tomorrow and to start taking better care of his aging body. It would not due to show any weakness in front of visitors after all. Finally, the warrior spoke, making his most useful contribution to the discussion thus far.

“The door handle on the left entrance seems the most worn, whereas the door handle in the middle seems brand new.”

Declan did not hesitate a second to reply before the scout could process. Years of dealing with adventures had trained his response to be near immediate, “The left door is closest to where you arrive and farthest from where I usually stand. Most exhausted challengers simply go to the easiest option.”

The scout twisted his hands together and seemed to be thinking quite deeply, or maybe was experiencing some intestinal distress; who was he to judge. “So, the left door cannot be the correct path since it is the most commonly used, and with the odds, the most chosen door is not the best one.”

“Once again, a fair deduction,” their semi-patient advisor replied.

“So by that logic, I reckon the correct path is the right door,” to both their surprise, it was the larger brute of an orc who took the liberty of declaring that. The scout looked confused for a second as if seeing his companion think for the first time.

He was definitely feeling his age now and swore to himself to do half days from this point on. “It sounds like you have made your choice! You may enter whenever you choose to.”

His grin peeked out for a fraction of a second as he spoke the well practiced lines, but it was enough that the scout caught a glimpse of it before Declan forced it down again. The scout looked like he was about to speak before taking a suspicious side glance at the warrior. His companion was standing in front of the right door, seemingly about to enter.

The scout seemed to consider what to do; then he spoke a little louder than he had previously, “We have chosen the right door. This treasure is ours, and I would not try to stop us.” The wiry orc shot an almost guilty glare at the unassuming advisor before turning to his companion with an encouraging gesture.

Declan smiled, knowing what was about to happen. As a result, he was impressed, not surprised, when the warrior was thrust into the room after he had turned the handle. The scout just barely caught himself on the rim as the door, and his companion fell into the waiting pit. A scream and a roar were heard before the door shut, blocking all sounds.

The man turned to look at him with a resigned expression, “That was obviously not the best path.”

Declan smiled, “No, it was not unless you wanted to be easily digested like your friend. Then I would consider it quite adequate.”

The poor and lonesome orc looked disgusted at the pointlessness of their useless conversation, “Then are none of the paths the correct one? Did my friend just die in vain?”

“No, no, no. One is correct… under certain conditions. The left path leads directly to the treasure. However, in the left path is a magical gem that will shoot lightning as soon as you enter, immediately killing anyone who opens the door. I would also like to point out that it was not me that shoved your companion into that room, though I do commend the action.”

It might have been the shock of his journey or the mental pressure from slaying his teammate, but whatever it was, the scout seemed to have lost some of his brilliance. His next response held a portion of his previous wit, yet Declan was no longer interested in the game regardless of his opponent. “Somehow, you have to be able to access the treasure, right? Even if it is protected by this lighting magic.”

He placed a somber expression on his face, “Indeed!” and then proceeded to pull a stone from his pocket, rubbing it on his shirt as if to shine it before presenting it to the man, “I have here a dark stone, one that can easily nullify the lightning from the magical gem. Here, you may use it if you wish.” He tossed the round and smooth rock at the startled adventurer.

“I think I have heard of Darkstones before,” he paused to give Declan a one over, “have you given this stone to others in the past.”

“No, I have not,” replied the minotaur.

“Say, what was in the door on the right?” asked the still undecided orc.

“That would be a pair of cobra lions. They have grown quite large after all this time,” he spoke with a paternal smile of pride.

“And in the middle?”

Declan looked his foe in the eye, taking great care to hide any emotions, “That would be a rather disappointing sight for you, my friend.”

“I’ll trust you with this Darkstone. I choose the left.” The young man seemed hardly confident in his choice but still marched determinedly to the leftmost door. It seemed he had forgotten or ignored their previous decision not to enter it. It was not Declan’s job to remind him.

Holding the smooth, obsidian stone out in front of him as if to function as a shield, the scout carefully opened the door. There was a brief flash of light, and then… nothing. The man peered suspiciously into the darkness on the other side and then looked over his shoulder back at the minotaur.

“That was it? Didn’t seem like much of a lightning strike to me,” questioned the shaking adventurer.

Declan shrugged apologetically, “Maybe it was damaged by a previous visitor? Either way, it seems that the dark stone did its job! I will just have to go repair the trap later.”

The scout, still holding the black stone, peered once again into the doorway. A faint glow could be seen on the other side of a long cavern.

Pointing unhelpfully at the distant light, Declan spoke to the nervous scout, “The treasure lies at the back of this cave. It is yours now for the taking!” He only barely managed to avoid shoving in the intruder as the scout had to his companion. It was such a shame that he was restricted to only talking with those that entered this space.

Declan leaned forward; hands displayed expressively. The scout, looking partially reassured, appears ready to enter and claim his prize but then hesitates, again. But at repeated prodding, the orc swallowed with a deep sigh and entered, finally. The scout slowly made his way to the back of the room, testing each step as if the ground may fall beneath him at any moment. He had time for one look of incredulity before the magical gem disintegrated him in a true flash of lightning. This flash was far stronger than the baby one they had seen while standing in the doorway. Declan nodded appreciatively at this speedy death and closed the door. He then headed over to the fountain and reached into his pocket to pull out a slightly damp stone that was nearly identical to the one he had given the scout. Giving it a smile, he placed it back in the fountain to await the next gluable adventure to enter. He had not expected to need two stones but had made sure to palm two during his earlier drink just in case.

He then proceeded to walk to the middle door. When he opened it, the only thing visible in the dimly lit cavern was a pedestal. On that pedestal sat a lone book, with the gleaming title “The Art of Persuasion.” Declan smiled to himself. It was a great weapon indeed and one he had mastered long ago. He softly placed the beloved book back on the pedestal and left the small cavern. Once in the hidden room located behind the three doorsDeclan ascertains that no new adventurers are on their way and uses his control over the space to make sure none enter to disturb his meal. Those two had already wasted enough time with their questions; next time, he would push his challengers to decide faster.