Owyn sighed. He’d been doing that a lot lately. He couldn’t help it, Lucid was keeping him busy. With the mana he’d gained from defeating the lizard dungeon, he was able to extend his dungeon to rescue more than half the village now, meaning Owyn had been giving the same speech over and over, trying his best to make sure none of these idiots pissed of Lucid. Again.
On the bright side, Mrs. Vernant was one of the people that had come down recently, so Mr. Vernant and Grant were overjoyed, even if she was taken aback by Grant’s undead nature. And missing limbs. Unsurprisingly, she was more upset at his undead nature than the fact that he was a cripple.
Owyn laid down in the darkness of Lucid’s moss fields. The bedrooms had some light now that they’d harvested enough of the glowing moss, but that meant that more and more of the villagers crowded around those rooms. Owyn preferred the peace and quiet of the outdoors.
“Krrr…” Mycroft’s heavy body thumped into the ground nearby. Owyn heard some plates click open, and soon toothy tentacles were touching his exposed areas. She was trying to tickle him, but Owyn didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Not that it was hard, her teeth made her efforts a little lackluster.
Owyn placed his hand on her tentacles, gently pushing them away. “Not today My…”
A piercing screech echoed from far across the cavern. It didn’t even disturb Owyn anymore. Sounds like that were just a part of living here. One part of many Owyn had to deal with, like a stomach that was no longer always full. It craved variety, and Owyn just couldn’t get that down here. He wondered if he could ask Lucid to help out with that.
No. He thought. That would make me in debt to Lucid again.
Where did the score lie between them right now anyway? Was Lucid in debt to Owyn, for Owyn’s participation in the raid, or was Owyn in debt to Lucid for rescuing so many villagers? Did the enthralled humans factor into it at all?
Owyn wished he could talk to someone about it. Abby was normally such a good listener, even if she did act a little snarky at times.
…
Owyn wondered what time it was.
A light appeared in the direction of the core room. Owyn rolled his head slightly to watch who came out. Two people, hand in hand. Must be the Vernant’s.
The light swung around, landing on Mycroft. Owyn waved from his position on the floor, deciding not to get up quite yet. He was too comfortable. The light bobbed its way over, careful to keep an eye on the uneven terrain.
“How you make it here in the dark, I’ll never know.” Mr. Vernant joked once he got close enough.
“I have a guide.” Owyn waved in the general direction of Mycroft.
“I’ll never know.” Mr. Vernant repeated with a cheeky grin. Like father, like son.
“What’s up?” One more problem, probably. Owyn thought to himself. Probably about the food.
“We were thinking of becoming thralls.”
If Owyn had a drink, he’d be spitting it out. “WHAT!?” He scrambled to his feet to face them properly.
Mrs. Vernant waved her hand. “Calm down dear, it’s not a sure thing quite yet.”
“Good.” Owyn said, remarkably hard for someone who had no business in the decision of others. “What are you thinking!? I know I’ve been defending Lucid, but that and this are two different matters! We’re only working with him because it’s a matter of life and death!”
Mycroft purred, prodding him in the back. Owyn pointedly ignored her.
“I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Mrs. Vernant said.
Mr. Vernant gave a half nod. “Being able to speak to our son again is a very important reason behind our decision. I told myself that if I ever let any part of my family become undead, I’d rather kill them again myself. But seeing him in person, talking with him, holding his hand, even though it is a little thinner now… It’s different.”
“It’s hard, talking to a skeleton.” Mrs. Vernant chuckled. “It’s even harder guessing what he has to say when he only has one arm.”
“But that’s still our child.” Mr. Vernant squeezed his wife's hand. “And we want to be one whole family again.”
“You won’t be able to have children again.” Owyn warned.
“We’ve been trying dear.” Mrs. Vernant said warmly. “Grant was already our little miracle. We won’t be getting another.”
“You won’t be considered human again!”
“Neither is our son.”
“You won’t be you again!” Owyn insisted, tears almost forming in his eyes. Why? What did he care? “You’ll be slaves to the dungeon! Your free will stripped away, your very being! Forget being considered, you won’t be human again! You’ll morph and change, and if the dungeon wills it, you’ll be thrown into a fight you won’t be able to escape from! Becoming a thrall means being inexplicably tied to the dungeon! It’ll become your home, your family, your life! You cannot escape the life of a thrall! You cannot escape the dungeon!”
“We know.” Mrs. Vernant said with a sad smile.
“But neither can Grant.” Mr. Vernant took a step forward, placing a fatherly hand on Owyn’s shoulder. “We’ve been talking about it for a while Owyn, and we’d really like to be a family again. But that doesn’t mean turning our backs on humanity. So we need you to tell us, and tell us honestly… Would you think any less of us for making this choice?”
Owyn clenched his fists, refusing to meet his eyes. “No…”
“Do you think Lucid would make us kill other humans?”
Mycroft shifted behind his back, eager to begin playing again. “No.”
“If we do this, will we be able to talk to Grant again?” Mrs. Vernant asked.
Owyn grit his teeth. “Yes.”
“Is there anything else you think we should be worried about?”
There wasn’t. He’d already said everything. They knew as much as he did now. He’d given his warnings.
Mr. Vernant held his eyes for a little while longer. Owyn couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. With a clap on his shoulder, Mr. Vernant stood a little taller, returning to his wife.
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“One last question. Do we get to decide our evolutions?”
Owyn regarded Mycroft behind him. Was she the way she was due to her own decisions? Or did Lucid decide to make her like that? Was there a way to tell?
“I don’t know,” He answered honestly.
Mycroft chittered, coming closer. She rolled her whole body in what could be interpreted as a nod of the head.
“Really?” Mrs. Vernant’s eyes sparkled a little.
Mr. Vernant began leading his wife back to the core room. “Is that important for you?”
“A little.” She stifled a giggle, swatting Mr. Vernant’s ass. “Maybe I’ll actually be able to get a good looking husband out of this deal.”
Mr. Vernant shoved his face in close for a kiss. “I’m not so sure that’s what you’re really after.”
Their retreat devolved to giggling and kisses. Owyn was once again left in the dark.
They abandoned him.
Mycroft poked the end of her tentacles against Owyn’s balled fists. They explored until they found the opening, prodding against them. Owyn swiped his hand away, stalking off. He needed to be alone.
He was alone…
Abby left. Before that, the Baroness was taken from Setterton. He was both a long way and not that far at all from any place he’d ever called home, even temporarily. He was left to manage the villagers, acting in a capacity of a leader that he was only used to using with children. All this responsibility kept growing and growing, and until now, he at least had Mr. Vernant to rely on.
Now he had nothing. Nobody.
Owyn found the wall of the cavern. He explored it blindly with his hands before turning around and resting his back against it. He slid down, collapsing against the ground. A thick lump formed in his throat, and tears formed in his eyes.
But he didn’t let them fall.
He had to be strong. Had to be supportive, and informative, and all these things he’d always been for Abby. Nothing had changed.
He was still an adventurer. He still had to go out and fight dungeons, for the sake of Setterton. He still had to fight to survive, same as he’d always done. This was fine… This was okay.
Owyn was fine.
----------------------------------------
"You brought food!” Owyn said with a broad smile.
The five villagers before him nodded. “Uh, the church says they’ll be sending more with every… batch. Of us.”
Owyn nodded excitedly. He was looking forward to a change of diet. “Good. Great! Ok, um, first of all, I guess I should ask you how much you know.”
The stories varied between groups, but there had been a trend growing recently. And with the addition of a child within the ranks of these five villagers, Owyn was silently betting they’d follow the positive trend.
“We’re going to serve a benevolent dungeon.” One of the villagers said, a pained smile on her face. “Supposedly.”
Owyn shook his head assuringly. “You’re not serving anyone here. Lucid, the dungeon, is protecting us humans, but he’s not expecting anyone to serve him. However, he does have a few rules for the time we’ll be spending here.”
Owyn prattled off the admittedly few rules Lucid had for this place. Don’t hurt his monsters, don’t hurt each other, don’t break his stuff, and in general don’t be a dick. Owyn told that last rule a little more formally.
His voice became a little more somber as he said the last piece of his speech though. “There are punishments for breaking his rules. Anything that threatens Lucid will become his thrall. So please, for the sake of everyone here, please be nice.”
All eyes turned to Damian, who stood just outside Owyn’s headlamp light. Subsonar, the other flying creature that lowered each of them safely to the lower caverns, was completely invisible. Owyn never could tell if that silent beast was ever nearby or if it just fucked off right after completeing his duty.
“Has… Has anyone broken the rules?” A tepid woman asked.
Owyn’s lips made a tight line. He nodded quietly.
“Who?”
Owyn didn’t know their names. Well, he was told one, but he wasn’t sure he remembered him. And then there were the Vernant’s.
Damian stepped into the light with crossed arms. He turned his back to the new villagers, whispering in Owyn’s ear. “The master would like to know if it would help you for him to mark his thralls.”
“How?”
“The eyes. He’ll make our eyes match the color of his core.”
Owyn considered it.
Damian spoke in his hesitation. “Only if they want to. We can mark the humans with a strip of cloth if you wish.”
Owyn nodded at that. He addressed the new villagers. “All of Lucid’s monsters will have their eyes the same yellow-orange color of his core. As for the human thralls, we’ll mark them with a strip of cloth or something later. For now though, I’ll bring you all to where we’ll be sleeping.”
Owyn held out a hand for the nearest villager, and they reached for the one behind them. Once they had a chain going, Owyn started walking them back over to the core room. Mycroft, ever vigilant, walked in the light, where the villagers could see her keeping watch. She seemed nicely relaxed though, so that helped. Owyn wasn’t sure if the others could see anything from her body language, but that didn’t really matter at this point.
A large clearing of moss was created in front of the core room. Some glowing moss remained in strategic areas, to help the unenthralled humans navigate. Rab stood guard, as always, and several humans worked beneath his hulking body. They hauled stones around, creating the beginnings of new walls to surround the current fortification. Already, an arching doorway had been created for the villagers to walk through, though the rest of the wall was barely higher than peoples ankles. It was thick too, two feet or more at the base.
Owyn counted nine workers. He thought that meant that eight of them would be Lucid’s human thralls, but he only counted six. The Vernant’s weren’t working along with the others. Three of them were new.
Shit. Does that mean that more of them caused trouble? Owyn dreaded the answer.
“Nea!” One of the workers shouted. He threw his rock to the side and bolted for the group of new villagers. One of the women broke off from the group, running over the ankle high wall to meet the worker.
Their reunion was met with many hugs and kisses. Owyn’s heart strained, dreading the inevitable reveal. He brought the group to a halt not too far away. The two new workers paused their work to watch the reunion with a smile, while the old thralls just smiled while they kept working.
Owyn felt this was as good a time as any. He gestured to the six thralls he recognized. “Those guys there are Lucid’s thralls.”
Nea noticed and pushed away from her man. “You-”
“NOnono!” The worker hurried to assure her. “I’m not a thrall. Uh, Owyn- gimme!” He gestured for Owyn’s helmet.
Owyn obeyed, taking off his helmet and passing it to the man. The light went out for the pass, but quickly turned back on when the worker took a hold of it. “See? Thralls can’t use magic!”
“Why are you out here working then?” Owyn asked.
The man shrugged. “Nothing better to do. ‘Sides, I like the work! Haven’t done something this large in years!”
Owyn took his helmet back. “What did you do?”
“Stonemason!” He said proudly, thumping his chest.
“Right…” Owyn shrugged. “Anyway, the rest of the tour. You’ve met Mycroft, Damian and Subsonar, and up there is Mycroft’s dad, Rab. He’s the resident boss monster, which means it’s his job to protect the core. Up there on top of the core room is Silver, the dragon.”
Dozens of mimic crabs scuttled into view, depositing some edible plants and berries in a pile close to the core room.
“Those are also Rab’s children. They’re very nice, and they’ll play with you if you ask them to. But if you’ll come in here, you’ll see Mimi, their and Mycroft’s mother, and Grant.”
Grant was actually sitting in his fathers lap, and they were sharing expressions that informed Owyn that they were speaking silently to each other. Dungeon telepathy of some sort. A fascinating subject, really, but Owyn wasn’t in the mood to talk to Lucid about it.
Owyn nodded to the Vernant family. “Uh, as you can see, Grant’s a skeleton now.”
“I’m so sorry…” A villager muttered.
Mrs. Vernant got to her feet and bowed. “Please, don’t worry about it. We’re happier now that we can actually talk to him again!”
The villagers said nothing, but looked upon them with pity. Owyn swallowed the lump in his throat, failing to mention exactly how they were talking to Grant again. Instead, he drew their attention to Mimi.
“And that’s Lucid. The dungeon’s core.”
Mimi held up Lucid’s growing core in cupped hands. The core blinked a little, providing a warm light to the room. Owyn led them around the core in a wide berth, as he knew that made the newcomers more comfortable.
“You’re not going to offer them to touch the core?” Mr. Vernant asked.
Owyn hesitated in the crevice leading down into the crossroads cave. He could hear the villagers behind him turn to face Mr. Vernant.
Damnit.
Mr. Vernant smiled. “Lucid’s pretty alright. I mean, you don’t have to, he won’t think of you any more or less for doing it, but he’s allowing people to become enthralled if they want!”
Owyn didn’t miss the beginnings of a yellow glimmer in Mr. Vernant’s iris. He was sure the others didn’t either.
“Come on.” Owyn said. “I’ll show you where the beds are.”