It was a calm evening, all things considered. Something had spooked the ever-loving fuck out of the animals earlier, but things had calmed down over the course of several hours.

But while Thomas was watching the sun fall below the horizon, a lesser version of the earlier unrest returned. Unseen creatures screeching, the crunch of breaking wood, the roar of an engine, and some very human cursing.

Wait, cars and cursing?

That was … odd. Sure, people came into the jungle in cars, and they started cursing when things weren’t going their way, but doing so at this time of night? Had they just not tried to visit him before out of sheer respect for their grunts wanting to get home at a reasonable hour?

Nah, that couldn’t possibly be it.

And as far as caution and fear of the dark went, the jungle wasn’t that much more dangerous at night, the critters were just a little harder to see, though that would be a problem with many large-scale illumination systems and all night vision systems unavailable.

So yes, they actually had a damn good reason to stay out of the jungle at this hour, there was no way they’d be able to get back home before night truly fell. Unless they were quite stupid, they wouldn’t have taken this risk without a good reason.

But Thomas wasn’t quite sure what it could possibly be. Had the earlier noise concert merely been the result of some kind of catastrophe beyond his ability to detect?

The cars soon came into view and parked far closer than they ever had before, literally driving partially up the museum’s front steps.

Their inhabitants rapidly left, evacuating in their entirety and walking up to the door, but it didn’t seem like an attack.

“Evening, Daedalus!”

Ah, there was a friendly face, or at least one he knew.

Wyatt Granger was the first at the door, followed shortly by Harper and an unfamiliar pair of orcs.

Thomas had made sure to keep Jan near the entrance for just such an occasion, so he sent the monkey out, a bag slung over one shoulder that contained the bracers meant for the young police officer, fedora resting on his head.

“Good evening … officers?” Thomas left the question hanging. There was something different about this visit, and he was going to wait for them to spill the beans.

“So, it’s a long story, but basically, we had a little bit of a monster attack, and the powers that be would like to sign a treaty tomorrow. But because we can’t take the remains of the British government into the jungle, and constantly playing Chinese whispers with military convoys through the jungle is going to get old fast, Deputy Director Abrams was wondering if your monkey could show up outside the jungle.”

“Deputy Director of what, exactly? And are they the same Abrams who was in here earlier?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, same Abrams, she got a promotion to the Bureau of Preternatural Affairs,” Granger told him.

“Good on her,” Thomas said, before getting back to the topic at hand. “Are you really okay with me sending one of my creatures around your political leadership? Especially a boss monster?”

“We thought about that,” Granger said, gesturing over to the pair of orcs. “These are Harjaz and Vretkag of the Worldstrider Tribe. Harjaz is an Anima Monk like the Deputy Director, but Vretkag is a Sentinel of Truth and can make magical contracts.

“If you’re willing, you can try and hammer out a contract that makes everyone feel safe attending.”

Aka an assurance that he wouldn’t murder people with his Dungeon boss emissary.

Thomas paused for a moment, studying the orcs for a moment. One was a massive mountain of muscles that looked like he had more strength in his pinkie finger than Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime had in his entire body. The other was still large, as seemed to be the standard for their species, but less of a literal hulk. And he had ink stains on his fingers.

It wasn’t very hard to tell who was who.

Thomas had Jan hop down from the table next to the entrance and walk up to the orc he assumed to be Vretkag.

“Good evening, I am Daedalus, the core of this Dungeon, speaking to you through this champion of mine. I promise that nothing bad will happen to you within my walls. Would you like to have this conversation somewhere less exposed?”

Thomas then turned to the others and motioned for them to head into the Dungeon.

“You probably don’t want to head back when it’s dark, feel free to sleep over. I’ll have the monsters in the entrance hall stand down, the cafe is in the back, the food is there for you to take if you want any. You can also run the Dungeon if you feel like it.”

That caused people to pause … until Vretkag spoke up.

“He is being truthful, and offering us sanctuary.”

Then, the orc stared back down at Jan. “I shall gladly take you up on your offer. Please, lead the way.”

And everyone slowly began to trod towards the entrance.

“You redecorated,” Granger observed as he saw the lagoon-like design, rocky pathways amidst shallow water filled with pajama catsharks and dwarf crocodiles.

“Yep,” Thomas nodded. “The unranked monsters I want to play with are in the entrance hall, you’ve got the standard Dungeon delve on the back left, the run at the potion on the back right, and if you turn right here, you’ll see the beginner area. Like I said, you can run through whatever area you want, but I’m not sure if you have a complete group.”

“I’ll think about it,” Granger said, causing Harper and Harjaz to nod behind him.

While most people headed off towards the cafe, Thomas diverted his attention for ra brief amount of time to fill it with cold sodas and coffee that was as warm as he could make it.

Jan kept pace until he reached the cafe, then pulled the bag off his shoulder and retrieved the bracers from within.

“So, I told you that I’d pay you back for this sweet hat, didn’t I?” Thomas announced. “It took me a while to figure something out, but I think you’ll enjoy these. If you want, I can add some bars or something to the roof for you to swing from.”

Granger looked a little puzzled at that, until Thomas flashed the description visible to everyone. He’d figured out how to make System windows physically appear in the world and this seemed to be a good time to exercise this option.

Crypt Guardian’s Bindings (F-Rank, legendary)

Forged from the bodies of a draconically-empowered dinosaur and a D-Ranked undead powerhouse, this item represents the gratitude of its creator-Dungeon, and a hint at what further trades may garner (though the cost for equivalent gear will be higher than a single hat).

The wrappings surrounding the leather may be unfurled and telekinetically controlled by the user, with any and all damage sustained by the bindings able to be repaired by a simple addition of mana. Even a charging draconic tyrant king (the creature that unwillingly donated its hide to form this item) can be stopped in its tracks if properly bound.

Energy draw: middling, constant when in use, titanic to regenerate linens

Restriction: Only Wyatt Granger (the Wyatt Granger awarded these items, to be exact) can wear and wield this item

Granger’s jaw dropped.

“So, is that a no on the bars?” Thomas teased. “I’ll be around even when my avatar is upstairs, just shout in the air, and I’ll hear.”

Then, he had Jan lead the way to his “office”. He’d placed it up on the second-story mezzanine, sitting above the entrance. From the door, on the left side was a window overlooking the jungle outside, while there was a stomach-high railing on the right, granting a mesmerizing view of the “lagoon” down below.

Thomas had added a massive desk, one that used to be made of oak but he’d made it from petrified wood, then managed to create an office chair - high chair combo that still looked dignified.

And then he’d filled it with as many knickknacks as he could without making the whole thing look like a hoarder’s nest. There’s been some good shit in the archives.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

An antique globe, a couple of really cool stuffed animals, a display case of various fossilized claws, and so on.

But Vretkag didn’t seem to be distracted himself, merely sitting down in the chair Thomas gestured to, while Thomas’ avatar scampered into the chair.

Time to negotiate.

***

So, this was what a Dungeon could do.

Wyatt Granger stared down at the pair of leather and cloth bracers covering his forearms.

Then, he raised his head to look for a good target. Before he even did anything, though, the soldiers in that direction scattered while Harjaz just laughed, the sound booming off the walls and ceiling.

“Young mage, perhaps the creatures outside would be a better target?” he suggested. “I shall ensure your safety while learning.”

“Oh, I gotta see that,” Harper added, stepping up next to the mountain of a man who’d been sent along for protection.

Wyatt sighed. Oh, this would either be awesome, or embarrassing.

Stepping out of the cafe through the multiple doors set in one-meter intervals was weird, though Harjaz had described that as a funtion of Dungeon mechanics. Apparently, it was important to put obstacles between the main Dungeon and safe spaces as that reduced the disruption that the presence of delvers would cause to Dungeon operations.

But with them all standing open, it wasn’t much of an obstacle, leaving him standing in the doorway, staring down into the crystal-clear water.

Okay, test one.

He flung his right arm forward, and … nothing happened. The wrappings stayed in place.

So he tried to unwrap it, but failed miserably.

Did it need mana?

Wyatt split his mind into two, used one to unleash mana, sending it streaming towards his right bracers, and directed the mana with the second until it flooded the artifact.

Suddenly, he could feel it there, like an extension of his own body. Preparing it to unwrap when he threw it forward was a matter of a single thought.

He tried it again, and the bandage … flopped through the air. Yeah, it could unwrap, but it wasn’t a bullwhip, it was a strip of linen.

A thought raveled it back up, and the next time he unleashed it, he pushed it forward with mana. It wasn’t quite as impressive as he’d hoped, but it still worked.

Time to start fishing!

… The linen bounced off the surface of the water, soaked up the liquid, and sank pitifully. But then a shark decided to attack the “intruder”, so a simple twitch of his wrist accompanied by a thought wrapped it up thoroughly and when he yanked the linen strip back, the shark came with it, flopping around on the ground.

“Uh, does someone have a knife?” Wyatt asked, and was immediately offered a massive dagger that was probably a short sword in his hand by Harjaz.

“Thank you.”

And then, he wound up barely able to cut the creature’s skin. Hadn’t the Inspector said something about these things being tough?

“Everybody back,” he announced, stepping away himself, and launched a fireball.

He’d been studying and probably could cast Chain Lightning by now, but doing so around all this salt water was probably the exact opposite of a good idea.

“Would you want to explore the beginner section with me acting as a defender?” Harjaz offered.

“That would be awesome,” Wyatt grinned.

And off they went, only briefly dipping back into the museum to inform the others on the convoy where they’d gone.

Most of the creatures in the “Cradle” were weak, his to blast apart, while Harper spent a ludicrous amount of healing resources to fix small scratches just so that he could grow a little too.

Mind you, it was nice to not look like he’d lost a fistfight with a bramble bush because that was exactly what had happened when Waatt had tripped, but it still felt like a bit of a waste.

Then, they’d reached the end, and Harjaz had laughed when he’d seen the hippo there … until it had roared at him.

At that point, he’d immediately drawn fully on his E-Rank strength, and the power he’d chosen. Unlike the Inspector, he’d chosen the transformation path and doubted in height while tripling in width as he ran forward, skin growing metalic while massive spikes manifested on his knuckles. A single massive fist turned the hippo into a wet smear on the ground.

After that, the massive orc strode towards the panacea section, still transformed, only to come out barely a couple of minutes later, swearing up a storm.

“What happened?” Wyatt decided to ask.

“I cannot fall onto the spikes on the ground while this heavy,” Harjaz growled. “And I cannot endure those nuts without transforming.”

Yeah, that made sense.

“Do you want us to try together?” Wyatt offered, but was met with a shake of the orc’s head.

“I am not taking F-Ranks into that mess.”

“But …” Wyatt shut up before he could whine about how the Inspector had taken them inside. Because it wasn’t a fair comparison, they’d also had Gula with them, and the Inspector could play tank without weighing so much that any fall off the walkway would be inevitably fatal.

So they just would up running up and down the entrance hall and the Cradle, leveling just a little. But things were slowing down over time, seemingly more than they should have due to their growing power. Was it a matter of constantly killing the same thing, or their familiarity with the Dungeon?

Still, eventually, Wyatt decided to call it a night around 3 in the morning, while Harjaz was still trying to figure out how to kill the monkeys without having to walk out onto the walkway.

***

“Deputy Director Abrams, this is Director of Operations Foster, I believe you two are going to be working closely together,” Frye introduced Jaclyn to the third and last top-level officer in the BPA.

“Jaclyn,” she introduced herself, offering her hand.

“Nicole,” the other woman responded, shaking it.

Jaclyn and Frye had decided to try and create a first-name basis between each other and Foster, simply because it would get real old, real fast, if they just kept going “Director this”, “Director that” forever.

“Anyway, Jaclyn, you have the list of stuff we need, I’m going to bed, ‘night everyone,” Frye announced, entering his office and closing the door behind him.

“Does he have a bed in there?” Jacyln wondered.

“No, he has a hotel room,” Foster cautiously responded. “But that’s in the opposite direction.”

She frowned. “I think he’s really sleeping in there, why?”

Jaclyn sighed. “I promised I’d wake him whenever we needed his input.”

“If he decides to be a pain to wake, I’m drawing on his face,” Foster decided as she picked up a tablet and started doing something on it.

Jaclyn raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Oh, long as he can get it off before he has to be in any meetings, he’ll find it funny,” Foster assured her. “When I got this job, he told me that I’d need a good suit for the sake of appearances. And that he’d have something for me. So I come home to a big box in front of my door, you know, one of those from the movies where the female love interest is sent a box with a nice dress and a note that says ‘wear this’.

“So I open the box, but do you know what I find? A note, and a business card.

“‘Despite what movies claim, a box like that is rarely romantic, and it would be creepy if I knew your size, so here is the business card of London’s finest tailor, I have paid in advance for high-ranking members to be appropriately outfitted’.”

Jacyn snorted. “I mean, he’s right about it being creepy, but that joke could have been taken really badly.”

“Nah, he knows me well enough to know I’d find it funny. Just like how I know that he’d find it funny if drew on his face long as no one sees,” Foster shrugged.

All throughout the entire conversation, she’d been continuously tapping away on her tablet, which she now finally set down.

“So, what do we need to do?”

Jaclyn pulled up the notebook she and Frye had filled on the way over.

“We need to properly arrange logistic support for the strike teams, figure out what they need, nail down our current and future housing needs, compare the current state of logistics with the new numbers of what we’ve used and broken in the jungle …”

It was a long list of stuff, but soon they got started with the strike team logistics.

“So, do some Classes have special requirements?” Foster asked.

“Healers need greenhouses for their herbs, we should probably build some blast-proof bunkers and shooting galleries for the mages to play with, I haven’t really explored other Classes,” Jaclyn said.

“What about Anima Monks? Do your animal bonds have any special needs?”

Jaclyn made a so-so gesture. “I mean, it’s mostly about food. I keep getting reminded that snakes are edible when I see them, and I use a ton of honey now, but honestly, nothing a well-stocked kitchen can’t keep up with.”

“What I’m hearing is that we can focus on just having food available, and add more stuff on request,” Foster suggested.

“Pretty much. And as for the buildings …”

It was a long night. A very long night, one they powered through with a lot of coffee. Well, Jaclyn did, Foster just stayed up normally. Even when Jaclyn went to sleep at 6 am or so, her fellow director stayed up. After all, she didn’t have to be presentable in four hours. Jaclyn, unfortunately, did.

***

“Is this conversation confidential?” Thomas asked. “On Earth, there are certain professions like lawyers and doctors who take oaths to not reveal anything about their clients. Do Sentinels of Truth have something similar?”

Vretkag made a so-so hand gesture, something that was apparently multiversal.

“As long as it does not endanger the tribe, nothing that happens within these walls shall pass my lips without your agreement.”

Thomas grinned, though he kept the expression off Jan’s face. A monkey grinning looked like it was considering how best to eat someone.

“Can you draw up a treaty on the basis of how for the next day, any Dungeon creatures that attack people outside the jungle, directly or indirectly, will immediately die?” Thomas asked.

He outright didn’t have any ability to project power outside the jungle beyond Jan, and that monkey could do very little on his own, and anyone who attacked the monkey wouldn’t gain anything. No real downside, it his mind.

“Very well,” Vretkag nodded, then went ahead and drew up the contract. The issue cropped up during the signing, though.

Whenever Jan was finished singing the name “Daedalus”, the ink vanished as if wiped away by a wet cloth.

“Is Daedalus not your name?” the orc asked after the third time.

“I took it to facilitate proper cooperation with humans,” Thomas shrugged. “If I consider it as a part of my identity, is there something you can do?”

“Of course, there are many who do not wish to sign their true names,” Vretkag nodded and added an exceedingly long paragraph about how those who put pen to paper had to be willing, and that the name they used had to be the same one used in dealing with the other signatory party, etc, as well as a section about how it was the mind, not the body, who signed the contract to allow Thomas to sign it via an intermediary. Because that bit had apparently been forgotten in the first iteration.

The next time Thomas signed, things went perfectly. Time to see what else he could get …

The monkey avatar leaned back in the chair, steepling his fingers.

“Could you draw me up some other contracts?” he asked.

“Depending on the contract, maybe,” Vretkag replied. “Dungeons with the ability to freely forge contracts are very dangerous.”

“Oh?” Thomas asked.

“Subverting officials, laying endless curses on anyone who acts in a way that the Dungeon does not like …”

Apparently, there was no end to the horror stories associated with Dungeons who could, eventually, become tyrants. And there was no way in hell the Worldstrider Tribe would allow something like that to happen.

“No, no, no, nothing like that,” Thomas laughed. “Just a few addendums for the treaty. I figured that there are some points that might have been missed because they’re looking at the issue from a human perspective, and there are a few things I’d also like to get.

“And I have a harmless little contract I’d also like to get. I’ll tell you about it, and if you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll never bother you about it again.”

Oh, this would be fun.