Chapter 385 - Another Day, Another Dungeon II
Claire fought back the urge to yawn as the turtles dragged the carriage through the hive-city’s gate. She found her eyes drawn to the square apartments built into the megastructure’s ramparts. Like everything else, they were made of translucent stone, and looking past the walls was as easy as squinting one’s eyes. If not for the curtains and carpets that covered their interior walls, they would be entirely exposed.
The scene itself was interesting enough; her lack of vigour stemmed almost entirely from the lecture that had accompanied their admission. The guard went on for what felt like an hour—about two minutes in reality—about the various rules, regulations, and attractions that distinguished Kryddar from the surrounding nations. He mentioned at some point or other that Svarborough, the city they had arrived at, was also known as the city of darkness, but Claire couldn’t see how. Though the stone built into the walls was black, the sun’s rays passed through them unhindered. If anything, the walls almost seemed to focus the light; the world within the structure was far brighter than the one beyond it.
Almost all of the buildings were made up of the same obsidian material that adorned its outermost walls. Still, they were easily distinguishable. Colourful, illustrated sign boards were carved straight into the buildings’ facades.
The only problem was that, for ground dwellers, half the buildings were inaccessible. Many of the large stone constructions were suspended from the ceiling, either attached directly to a crystalline stalactite or indirectly tied to one with a band of silk. The people fluttered through the air, moving to and fro in an orderly fashion. There were no obvious reasons for them to stay in line, but they all moved together nonetheless.
“This is certainly a rather impressive city,” said Arciel. “But given its structure, I cannot fathom an approach to its continued expansion.”
“There isn’t really much room for it to grow in the first place,” said Chloe.
“Perhaps not. I presume they must enforce limits on birth and immigration.” The city was surrounded by birthwoods. To expand the walls, if that were even possible, was to entail their premature destruction.
“Oh! Maybe Claire knows?” said Sylvia. “Since the Kryddarians are supposed to be close Cadrian allies ‘n stuff.”
“I don’t,” said Claire. “I never paid attention in geography class.”
“Uhmm... I’m pretty sure this falls under biology or politics or something,” said the fox.
“I didn’t pay attention in those classes either.”
“I dunno why you expected anything different from her,” said Jules. “Last time she said anything useful was before the Cadrians kicked our asses.”
“That’s not true!” said Sylvia. “She warned us that one time we were gonna be attacked by bandits.”
“Yeah, and they were barely level two-fucking-hundred. Any one of us could’ve handed them with our eyes covered and our hands tied behind our backs.”
“I do believe we have allowed ourselves to stray from the point,” said Arciel. “Perhaps it would be best if we returned to the agenda?”
“You said we were supposed to gather information on a dungeon, right?” said Krail. The elf kept his eyes on the road ahead as he spoke. He had a tight grip on the reins and he pulled them whenever the turberi sped up. “I think you said it was called Crimson Rock?”
“That is correct,” said Arciel. “Belyaev affirmed that it was a rather notorious location. I do not believe that it will be difficult to locate.”
“I’m more worried about what comes after,” said Krail. “I’ve been through a lot of dungeons in my time, but I’ve never heard of one that would hold a master swordsman’s interest. I’m a little concerned about its notoriety as well. That probably means that it’s one of the more dangerous ones, either that or it doesn’t really produce much in terms of payout.”
“There is hardly a need for speculation. Let us begin by querying the locals,” said Arciel. She poked her head out of the front of the carriage and looked around. “Might there be a location where adventurers or information brokers might gather?”
“It never hurts to try a tavern,” said Krail. “We’re a little early for dinner, but we should be able to catch the rush if we hang around.”
“Fucking hell, finally,” said Jules. “I’m literally starving my ass off.”
“I’m not sure you even have an ass,” said Chloe. She poked her head over and tried looking at his shell, but he immediately spun around and half-closed the lid.
“Your fault for skipping lunch,” said Claire.
“My fault? My fault!?” Completely forgetting about Chloe, Jules erupted from his shell and threw it all the way open as he pounded a fist against its rim. “How the fuck is it my fault!?”
“You’re a picky eater.”
“I literally would’ve eaten anything else. But your dumb ass had to buy ten fucking pounds of clams!”
“They were on sale. And I don’t see how it matters.”
The giant talking clam could only press his face into the side of his shell as the tiny qiligon innocently tilted her head. The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t tell if the reaction was genuine. His only choice was to heave a defeated sigh and shut out the world around him.
The rest of the party looked for a tavern in the meantime. There were quite a few around the city, but most were suspended in the air. They didn’t even have stools or chairs for the patrons and only served those who were capable of flight. At a glance, it seemed like a form of discrimination, and in fact, that was exactly what it was. Only, the audience they aimed to filter was not foreigners but minors. It was impossible for a wingless caterpillar to make its way up to an adult-oriented establishment.
There were still a few on the ground to accommodate visitors, but they were more heavily regulated. The soldiers positioned outside the doorways glared fiercely at the children who passed them by. Larvae were only allowed to enter the non-alcoholic locations instead—a practice that few other nations could be bothered to adopt.
For most species, alcohol was harmless. The accompanying disorientation was temporary, and any health lost was sure to be restored by the time the drink was digested. But for Kryddarians, the effects were far more pronounced. Just one drink was enough to bring a grown man to his knees and cleave his health down to a third. A caterpillar could easily die from a sip.
Further differentiating the alcoholic establishments from their dry counterparts was the precise construction of the walls. While most buildings were fairly see-through, drinking places came equipped with opaque barriers. They tried to make sure that the children couldn’t even see inside of the establishments.
The party arrived at one such location after a brief delay. It was located on the eastern side of the town, tucked away beneath the ramp that led to the building’s exterior. A quick glance confirmed that it was clearly aimed at foreigners and travelers; there were a few places where one could park a wagon situated by the door.
The bouncers standing outside were far from friendly; they scrutinized the party and scrunched up their faces when they caught sight of Lana. Still, they allowed everyone inside without voicing their complaints or suspicions. If anything, it was the brigade that wound up complaining.
“What the hell? Why’s this place so empty?” Asked Jules.
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There were exactly three people inside the building, all of whom were drunk out of their minds. The two Kryddarians were outright unconscious, while the only catgirl was brooding in a corner with pen and paper in hand. She was the only person in the building still awake; there wasn’t even any staff out and about.
“Mreep,” cooed Claire.
“The fuck is that even supposed to mean?” asked the clam.
“I think she’s saying that you’re an idiot, and that Kryddarians are nocturnal,” said Sylvia.
“Nocturnal my ass! Did you not see all the fuckers flying around the city!? And aren’t they literally supposed to be the sun god’s people!? What the fuck do you mean they sleep during the day!?”
“Mnnrreeep.”
“She says that those were the early risers,” said Sylvia. “And she doesn’t know why they sleep during the day either.”
“I do believe that one’s sleep patterns have little to do with one’s faith,” said Arciel. “I remain faithful to Griselda, in spite of my diurnal schedule. It is for her control over the tides and the many other aspects of our lives that we dedicate our worship. It is likely that the Kryddarians function in much the same way.”
“They need trees,” said Lana. “And trees need sunlight.”
“Eh, guess I can make enough sense out of that one,” said Jules. “But anyway, that isn’t the point. If you fucking knew, then why the hell didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Mreep.”
“She says that, apparently, since you don’t think she says anything useful, she figured she might as well not say anything at all.”
“Motherfucker…”
Claire mreeped triumphantly while the clam banged his face into his shell.
“If us coming here works out to walking into a bar in the middle of the night, then logic says we should probably look for something along the lines of a diner,” said Krail. “Maybe something that does breakfast and lunch?”
“I suppose it would not hurt to make the attem—”
Arciel stopped in the middle of her sentence when one of the Kryddarians suddenly straightened his back and floated off his seat. His head facing the sky and his whole body hunched over, he slowly floated over to the front desk with a groan. He almost looked like a zombie.
“Either shut up and take a goddamn seat or get the hell out. It’s too damn early for all this chatting,” he said.
A closer inspection revealed that the giant white moth was wearing an apron over his clothes. Even covered in wrinkles and stains, one could vaguely make out a logo that matched the one carved into the stone right behind him. If not the owner, he was clearly a member of the staff.
“Would you happen to be aware of any locations where adventurers or information brokers might gather at this time?” asked Arciel, unperturbed.
The man furrowed his brow and gave her an incredulous look.
“Oh, gods damn it. Not this again. Why the hell do you stupid foreigners always show up and ask the same goddamn shit? Fuck off! Go check the fucking bureau.”
“And where might we find this bureau?” asked Arciel.
“Center of town with all the others. Now get the fuck out or I’m calling the guards.” The moth grumbled about outsiders as he floated into the back and collapsed on top of another table.
“Oh, great. No food then,” said Jules. “Didn’t know the locals were assholes.”
“Honestly, seems like it’s more of a problem with this particular establishment’s owner. The folks we met on the road were pretty friendly,” said Krail, “and the guards aren’t so bad either.” The old elf waved at the pair outside the door as he passed them. They didn’t break position, but they did at least return a set of silent nods.
“So, what now? Are we going to head over to this stupid bureau of theirs, or are we gonna find something to eat?” asked Jules.
“Let’s head to the bureau first,” said Chloe. “It’s still a little early for dinner, and I’d like to find a place that does something other than breakfast.”
“Yeah, yeah, fine. I get it, you don’t need to do the whole song and dance,” said the clam. He breathed a sigh and reluctantly climbed into the back of the carriage, which shot off towards the city centre as soon as everyone was on board.
The so-called bureau didn’t immediately stand out on account of the waiter’s less-than-specific description. There were at least twenty different bureaus in the center of town, all of which were labeled with silly names, like the bureau of snacks, shoplifting, and stunt doubles, or the bureau of ghosts, gambling, and generous goblins. It didn’t help that almost all of them were closed. Even those whose lights were still on seemed largely deprived of occupants.
The signs on the doors stated that they weren’t slated to open until nine in the evening, which, according to the giant, six-sided clock suspended in the middle of the square, was still a solid four hours away. It took venturing down half the street to finally find one that was open. The so-called bureau of dish soap, domestic violence, and dream denial was one of the few that remained fairly well-staffed.
A few quick questions later, and one of the clerks pointed the party down the road. Though its name barely evoked any hints of its function, the bureau of egg hunting, embezzlement, and episodic endeavours was responsible for governing adventurers and their adjacent affairs.
“Are we certain this stands as the correct location?” asked Arciel. The building they had arrived in front of was one of the few they had previously passed over. The sign said it was open at all times of day, but like many of the others, it was devoid of life.
“It should be right.” Chloe adjusted her glasses as she took a few steps back and double-checked the signboard. “Maybe we can try shouting to see if they’re just in the back?”
“There’s a bell,” said Claire. “Idiot.”
She floated inside of the building, landed in front of one of the desks, and tapped the bell sitting on top of it. It made an awfully loud noise, a shrill ringing that sounded more like an alarm than a means to summon a public servant. Still, it did its job. A clerk soon ventured out from behind a closed door, dragging his feet and yawning as he made his way over to the desk.
The government employee in question was especially large for a Kryddarian moth. His lack of self-discipline certainly served in part as justification—his belly was at least a full standard deviation rounder than the average and he didn’t seem to be lifting off the ground even as he flapped his wings—but he was also of a larger build to begin with. All four of his arms sported biceps that bulged in spite of his obesity, and he was tall enough to put a lyrkrian Claire to shame.
“Good evening,” he said, through a yawn. “How can I help you?”
It wasn’t until he scratched the back of his fuzzy white head and rubbed his compound eyes that he finally caught sight of the supposed customer.
“Mreep.”
“Err… hi,” he said. “Do you speak Marish?”
“Mreep.”
“Guessing that’s a no.” He leaned on the counter and moved to poke her, but she retreated in time with the motion of his hand and maintained the amount of distance between them. That, of course, only led the man to grumble. “Alright, look. You’re a cutie, that’s for sure, but you can’t go playing with that thing for fun, alright?” He pointed at the bell, which Claire promptly whacked with her tail. “I’m trying to sleep on the job.”
“I do believe that to be clear from the lapse in your attention,” said Arciel.
“Huh?” Slowly raising his head, the moth found a group of customers standing by the doorway, though some of them looked much more sentient than others. “If you’re looking for the bureau of parades, perjury, and pet care, you’re in the wrong place,” he said, through a yawn. “They’re just across the street and the entrance to the ICU is out back.”
“We are not looking for anything of the sort. We simply wish for some information on dungeons in Kryddar.”
“Oh.” The man raised a hand and masked another yawn. “Got any specific dungeons in mind? Or are you just looking for an overview?”
“Perhaps you may know something of Crimson Rock?”
The moth furrowed his brow.
“Is there a problem?”
“Nah,” he said. “I was just thinking that you didn’t look very Cadrian.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Chloe.
“They’re normally the only ones that ask anything about it. I can tell you what I know, hell, I’ll even give you a pamphlet, but we’ve gotta go through some formalities first.” He rummaged under his desk for a few moments before pulling out a few sheets of paper.
“And what is this?” asked Arciel.
“A waiver.” The moth grabbed a quill off his desk and pointed at a list roughly halfway down the cliff. “Before I tell you anything, you have to acknowledge that you’re aware the dungeon is extremely dangerous, and that you agree to all of the terms. So just to quickly go over all of them, it’s not recommended for anyone under level nine hundred, the dungeon kills more than half the people who raid it, it inflicts cursed wounds that are extremely difficult to heal, and we’re not responsible for anything that happens to you while you’re inside. Oh, and you’ll have to pay the standard information fee, which’ll be two silver pieces.”
“I do not believe that to be a problem,” said Arciel. She accepted the quill, coated its tip, and signed the page while Chloe produced the necessary payment. “We are rather confident in our abilities, and one of us bears a divine quest for its completion.”
“One of you?”
“Yes. Her.” Arciel lifted the tiny qiligon by the armpits and raised her closer to the man’s eye level.
“Right… My bad for prying, I guess.” He grabbed the page and filed it away in one of the cabinets that lined the wall behind him. He quickly replaced it with a massive binder whose pages were marked with all sorts of colourful tags. “You might want to take a seat,” he said, with a tired sigh. “There’s a lot to cover.”