Wandering through the market (slower than expected, perhaps things are sluggish in the weeks before harvest?), Parry tested a point with his demon familiar.

"Do dungeons ever pop up at random in the Demon Realms, Styak? I've lived more than a few lives in all five of the Hells, but I can't recall any ever appearing."

The kitten was currently in his memories, watching the world through the boy's senses.

"Not that I know of. Demons prefer to build up."

"Oh?"

"Power should be visible, to cow lesser beings. No one is awed by a hole in the ground, no matter how deep it goes. Most of the hells are elemental once you dig, so it's magma or ice or worse below. What's the point of building into that? Go up, make spires, as pointy as possible."

"Pointy," thought Parry, dryly.

"Sharp-edged towers are more terrifying than rounded ones, which are devastating compared to flat roofs. How humans endure thatched cottages is beyond me. I'd be embarrassed to walk out of it in the morning."

"Few rulers live in thatched palaces."

A quick nod from the demon. "That shows a minimum of taste. Humans build in brick and stone, which is a step up, but iron would be an improvement. Nothing says 'authority' like an all-metal fortress."

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Parry ignored one of the hawkers peddling "wyvern juice," which apparently cured everything and made your wife act sweetly.

"In the mortal world, dungeons appear at random. I think it's a joke from the Creator, or perhaps it's some kind of obligation? I've never gotten anything like a believable answer. How does an entire underground complex simply appear? Why does it come pre-populated with progressively more and more difficult monsters the deeper you delve? Who leaves treasure down there, and why are the corridors and rooms conveniently lit with torches that never expire?"

"Do they remain in perpetuity?"

"I'm not certain. When emptied of explorers long enough, dungeons have been known to vanish. There's one in the north near the city of Finmayer that the locals moved into. As far as I know, they're up there now occupying the entire first floor. I suppose when the wind blows that cold, it's worth living underground despite the monsters."

"I have tasted a few of your memories from dungeons, you appear to thrive there. Should we attempt this new one?"

Parry treated himself to a pork and turnip bun, having had his fill of berries while on the road.

"I'm neither a warrior nor a mage in this life, Styak. Shapers aren't made for crawling through dungeons, and even if I'm also a priest, I have no divine powers of any use, particularly not healing or creating sustenance. And we have no party, nor are we even registered with the Adventurer's Guild."

"Excuses and rules. I say we do it. You haven't seen what havoc I can wreak, now that I have a host."

That made the boy's eyes roll. "We'll ask the Guild Master when she returns, how about that? Perhaps it's a feeble thing with only a few dirt rooms boasting nothing more dangerous than a colony of slimes."

The kitten appeared satisfied and went burrowing into Parry's memories, eager to find something dungeon-related.