They hadn’t come back yet. That was … not great. Sure, there’d always been a chance that they’d stay overnight due to the nighttime jungle being dangerous.

But there was also the option that the thing that was keeping them was a lot more … final.

Signing the treaty with the Worldstrider Tribe had been a matter of minutes, the press conference afterward had been longer by an order of magnitude. So, where the hell was the expedition she’d sent into the jungle?

Then, Jaclyn’s phone rang, showing Granger’s number.

“Sorry we’re late, there was a tree across the road, we’ll be with you in half an hour. And the mission was a full success.”

Oh, thank God.

***

“And you’re sure that the woman was the dragon?” Thomas asked for what had to be the hundredth time.

“Yeah, she introduced herself with the name in the file you gave the Inspector, she had dragon powers, and acted exactly like you’d expect someone like her to act,” Granger shrugged.

Well, that was … something. It certainly changed how he’d have to set up his defenses. Change the size of the nets, reduce the amount of armor-piercing tricks because the target no longer had armored scales. Overall, this should make things easier, but based on Granger’s description, Alaxia was still damn tough.

“You know, I was wondering why you keep calling Deputy Director Abrams ‘inspector’?” Thomas finally asked, changing the topic of the conversation. He’d kept noticing it, trying to remember to bring it up once the conversation at hand came to an end, and forgotten, every single time. Until now.

“Wait … oh, I did that, didn’t I?” Granger frowned, then shrugged again. “I guess I always just thought of her as ‘the inspector’.”

He was looking more than a little abashed now, presumably resolving to make sure to not repeat the verbal gaffe again.

“So, tell me about your government,” Thomas asked. “Who will I meet?”

“Uh … no clue,” Granger told him, sounding more than a little embarrassed. “Everyone in the government I could name is dead. The guy currently in charge is the former defense minister, but I don’t know his name, and I don’t know if he’ll be there.”

“Where have you been the last two weeks, under a rock?” Harper asked.

“Learning magic,” Granger said.

“It’s that complicated?” Harper asked.

“Yes,” Granger flashed him an evil grin. “Did you know that Deputy Director Abrams wants everyone to at least know Cleanse? And guess who’s going to be teaching you …”

Harper gulped, and Harjaz started laughing.

The car they were in began to slow down while the one ahead started to speed up.

Thomas didn’t do anything, though, this had all been explained to him before. The contract he’d signed, the one that guaranteed everyone’s safety for today and only today, would arrive well ahead of his avatar to ensure that things were all nice and calm when he did show up.

“Where are we going?” Thomas asked. “Is this going to happen in some random conference room or something?”

“Gentlemen’s club or something, I think,” Granger said. “Something that looks nice and isn’t buried in the jungle.”

Huh, that wasn’t a bad idea, actually. Not what Thomas would have expected, but could a historic treaty like this really have been signed in a random parking lot, or maybe a dull conference center somewhere?

This was an occasion that deserved impressive surroundings.

The final stretch of the journey to the gentleman’s club was almost painful, each second seeming to take a minute to pass, every minute becoming an hour, the anticipation building and building, until it felt like the pressure in Thomas’ core, would rival a nuclear blast in strength when released.

But he ignored it, working desperately to stay calm and keep going. Sure, the Dungeon was currently a monkey house in both the literal and figurative meaning of the word, with him venting his impatience by making his creatures go nuts.

And eventually, his patience paid off.

The gentleman’s club was, externally, a hole in the wall, having the kind of door that you’d walk past without thinking twice about it, even if you passed this place every single day of your life, you’d likely never wonder about what was inside, not even in passing.

This was meant to be a high-class place, one that did not allow for walk-ins, requiring membership of a personal invitation to enter. And the entrance reflected that … under normal circumstances.

Right now, though, everything was open, very obvious, and well guarded, not to mention all the lights and cameras set all around the place to capture every second of this historic moment.

“If you will follow me, Sir?”

It was a traditional English butler, or at least someone wearing what Thomas thought was a butler’s uniform, who’d been waiting by the door. And the man seemed perfectly okay and not at all disturbed by the fact that he was currently talking to a spider monkey with a fedora on his head and a fanny pack slung over one shoulder.

Thomas decided to not comment on the man’s surprising grace in handling the situation and just dipped his head in agreement before scampering after him.

There was a room that was very obviously meant to hold the actual signing of the treaty, utterly stuffed with reporters and their various means of recording audio and video.

But that was not where Thomas was led. Instead, his guide led him towards a separate area, one beyond any reporters or other forms of observation. It just contained a few unobtrusive guards, Deputy Director Abrams, and two more people who he was clearly here to meet.

Abrams got to her feet and walked out towards him, pulling out a chair for him. It was a seat comparable to what the others were sitting in, a large leather seat that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Victorian drama … except for one thing.

The legs. Parts of it were normal, extending about half a meter from the bottom of the seat, but there was an extension attached where they ended, being very much different from wood and clearly a new addition. Something tacked on after Abrams had informed everyone that Thomas’ emissary was a monkey, so that they could look each other in the eye.

“Thank you,” Thomas said, turning to the butler, then returning his gaze to the woman. “Good morning, Deputy Director Abrams. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

“Thank you for coming, Daedalus,” she returned the sentiment before introducing the others, gesturing at each of them in turn. “Ezekiel Hawkins, the minister of defense for the old government, he’s the current head of our government and will become the Prime Minister once the situation stabilizes. Rowan Frye, Director of the Bureau of Preternatural Affairs, Ambassador Victoria Porter, former head of our embassy in the United States of America, soon to be our official liaison with the supernatural factions of new London.”

With that, Abrams returned to her seat behind the table, while Thomas clambered up onto his own chair.

To their credit, no one was laughing or even looking like they were struggling to avoid it, staying entirely professional in what had to be the most bizarre meeting of their careers. Whether it was due to them being actually calm or just having an excellent poker face, Thomas didn’t know, but honestly, he didn’t care either.

“New London?” he asked.

“The freshly supernatural area, that’s the name that was settled on,” Hawkins told him.

Huh. Thomas would have called in Verdant London instead, since it had been merged with the Jungle of the Verdant Hells, but that was just his opinion.

Hawkins tapped a pile of papers on the table between them, another magical contract by the looks of it.

“This is the treaty we’ve prepared for proper cooperation between you and this government, for our mutual benefit.”

“I’ll have to look it over,” Thomas announced. “Though I wish it had been sent to me last night, that way, I could have read it ahead of time.”

There was a brief awkward pause before Abrams broke the silence.

“I only thought about having you visit late in the evening, I didn’t even think about that.”

At least she wasn’t trying to use any bullshit excuses.

Thomas shrugged. “Happens. So, tell me, what is this treaty about, cliff notes version?”

“Like I said, it’s the foundation for cooperation between us, so that we can live together and prosper together,” Hawkins said, but before Thomas could answer, Porter spoke up.

“But this treaty is about what we consider important, there is an orcish Sentinel of Truth in the next room, who can make alterations so that this treaty can meet your needs as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can find some common ground. What are you offering, and what do you want me to give you in return?” Thomas asked.

“Because let me tell you what I’m hoping that contract says: I give you access to my dungeon to level whoever you want, providing a reasonable level of challenge while letting people know what they’re in for and only granting access to people who are delving voluntarily. If someone is forced in, they can stay in a safe room until the police or military shows up the next time so they can pick them up.

“In exchange, you’ll accept deaths that occur in my Dungeon, provided that the delvers are of age and entered voluntarily, in full awareness of the danger involved. I also get the land my Dungeon sits on, and some degree of assurance that I won’t be subjugated or attacked by your government.

“So, how close am I?”

“We’d also need a lower-ranked section for our beginners,” Frye said. “Unranked creatures if possible, that can be taken down by people with barely any enhancements.”

“Done.”

“That quickly?” Porter asked, sounding shocked.

“No, its just that mutually beneficial,” Thomas responded. “It took me a while to make, but I’ve got a shallow cove full of dwarf crocodiles and cat sharks, plus an entire room filled with antelopes and a standard hippo as a boss monster. If you’d like, you can ask the delegation that collected me, they had fun in there.”

“But the whole treaty is acceptable?” Hawkins asked.

“Yeah … but I have a confession to make,” Thomas stretched. “Or rather, a clarification. My Dungeon’s bigger than you know, I also control the British Museum now, and I don’t think you intended to give it to me when you presented that treaty.”

Somehow, of all things, that statement was what cracked the minister’s iron poker face, so he explained.

“Minister Hawkins, I’m functionally immortal. As long as no one kills me, I’ll be around for your great-great-great grandchildren to level up in, if they want. It doesn’t matter what I could possibly get by playing games, it’ll always cost me more in the end. I don’t really have the options a normal politician or public figure does when they are at the center of a scandal. I can’t move to a new district, I can’t really rebrand as something else, I’m me, and I am a Dungeon Core. For me, honesty is the best policy.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Are there any … is there anywhere else you’d like to set up shop?” Porter asked. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”

“I’d like the Imperial War Museum and the HMS Belfast,” Thomas said. “I’ll be returning the personal mementos to the British Government, of course. I believe the top floor of the former holds a series of medals awarded to war heroes? And once I gain the ability to spawn additional subcores, I’ll be making them available for your use if you want to set up more training centers elsewhere. As long as there’s a museum you’re willing to see transformed and I have the capability, I’m game.”

A series of glances were exchanged at that, wordless communication that Thomas was having a hard time understanding. Finally, Hawkins fixed him with a look, and the man nodded slowly.

“The Belfast, British Museum, and the Imperial War Museum are yours, as long as they also contain a beginner area.”

Ok, that had been unexpected. Were they trying to get in good with him, or just plain scared? And if so, what were they scared of, him, or Alaxia?

Thomas sighed and reached into the fanny pack.

“I guess I had this contract written up for nothing, but I figure I shouldn’t keep it to myself just because I have the option. I already signed it, all it needs is your signature.”

Hawkins’ eyebrows practically shot off his head as he read the first couple of paragraphs, growing increasingly pale the further he got. He then showed the contract to the others, who reacted similarly.

It was really quite simple, all it did was promise that Thomas wouldn’t produce any currency … and it also defined “currency” in a way that would hopefully forestall any fuck-fuck games. Basically, anything created solely as a means of measuring value and transferring wealth without requiring barter, meaning money, counted as currency. Things that were declared currency while having other uses, like if people suddenly decided to replace the pound sterling with the summoning tokens he could make, were explicitly not affected by the contract.

Hawkins signed so quickly that the paper nearly tore.

They talked for a few more minutes about how things would work going forward, like if the government could set up a checkpoint outside the Dungeon to ensure things were orderly, but overall, that part was pretty amicable. They were reasonable people, they wanted to work together amicably.

Or at least Thomas did. Hawkins might be reasonable too, or he might just be desperate to keep this country he’d suddenly found himself in charge of from crumbling further.

And then, they really did move onto the elephant in the room, when Thomas finally decided to bring it up.

“What does your treaty say about national emergencies? Especially the kind that flies through the air on wings of energy and declares herself the empress of England?” he asked.

“We … it says both signatory parties have to help in such situations,” Hawkins said.

“And what kind of help do you think I can provide?” Thomas asked. He knew what he could provide, but he was curious to know what they expected.

“Whatever you can reasonably provide. Materials support, primarily, and, if you’re willing, acting as a trap for our foes could be helpful,” Porter suggested.

“Material support like this?” Thomas asked, pulling several disks from his pack and placing them on the table between them, intricate designs glittering in the metal. “These are temporary summoning tokens. Outside my Dungeon, they can be used to temporarily summon the creature or creatures displayed on them to obey their summoners’ orders. And if you want to send some big bad monster into my Dungeon to die, I’m good with that.

“But if I help you kill something outside my walls, I’ll need to get a fair share of the loot. Just remember, anything you give me can be received as loot later, so what you give me isn’t a loss, it’s an investment. And if your enemy is too powerful, you might have to help me take it down. Otherwise, I’m game.”

There was quite a bit more back and forth after that, but the basics had been established before both parties had ever sat down together. Live and let live, help each other in emergencies because another apocalyptic event helped no one, and that was basically it.

Leaving the calm meeting room was a surreal experience. From the relative privacy of the previous venue, with only them and a few unobtrusive guards on the walls to the extremely public area covered in cameras and reporters. It wasn’t quite “red carpet at the Oscars”, there weren’t any flashing cameras or screaming fans, but it was close.

Hawkins held a speech, Thomas stood by, nodded when he felt it was appropriate, then they both signed the treaty and shook hands for an uncomfortably long time to make sure there was plenty of time and opportunity for the reporters to take their pictures.

And eventually, Thomas was led back out by Abrams.

“You know, Deputy Director, unless I’m very far off the mark, you’re about to start training up the … action branch of your organization. Would you be interested in sharing some information on your needs?”

***

Jaclyn decided to follow the avatar into the car that had been waiting to take the Dungeon Core’s Avatar back to his home, though she was feeling nervous, anticipating something bad.

Admittedly, the core wasn’t a bad creature, agreeable and reasonable, Daedalus had even left the summoning tokens behind as a gift, but she felt like something was about to go very wrong. Or, at the very least, she was going to be faced with something utterly unexpected.

The monkey avatar was silent for a few minutes while the houses passed by outside, until he finally spoke up.

“How powerful was Alaxia in person?” he finally asked.

“Too powerful,” Jaclyn said.

“Were you able to hurt her at all?”

“No.”

“But would like to be able to?”

Jaclyn frowned down at the monkey.

“Are you asking if I’d like to make a deal with the devil?”

The monkey met her gaze confidently, grinning.

“Nothing quite that bad. I think you’ll be happy with it, though.”

And with that, it produced yet another contract, making Jaclyn grimace. Now, more than ever, she was certain she knew why Dungeons should never have access to unlimited contracts. But hopefully, Vretkag hadn’t created anything bad.

“This contract promises you power. Access to whatever monsters you want to fight, healing potions if you need them and I have the magic to create it, I’ll pull back my monsters if it looks like you’re about to die … everything I can to make sure you survive. It’ll cut into your gains a little, but you’ll also gain more than you ever could by playing it safe.”

It was generous. Too generous.

“And in exchange?” Jaclyn asked bluntly.

“You don’t use that power against me. Ever. You can pass along orders to have your subordinates attack me, you can plan an attack, but you can never enter my Dungeon with the intention of attacking me personally, or clear the way for someone who’s planning to do me harm. And if you learn that the group you entered with has bad intentions towards me, you’re leaving on the spot. That’s the deal.

“If you sign this contract, you won’t be able to raise your hand against me outside of self-defense, but that’s the only limitation. All that phenomenal cosmic power can be yours to do with as you please. Defeat Alaxia, conquer the jungle, hell, you could even make yourself the new queen of England. I mean, you’re smart enough to know that leadership requires more than being able to kick the ass of the previous leader, so you’re not going to, but you could.”

It was generous. Too generous.

Was Daedalus that scared of Alaxia? Or was it her that Daedalus wanted to neutralize? Empower her against other threats while protecting himself from her for the rest of time?

And yet, her Bullshit Radar was surprisingly silent. Did that mean he was sincere, or was he just that good of a liar?

Jaclyn took the contract from the monkey and read it. It was a short document, detailing exactly what they’d just discussed. Help power leveling in exchange for immunity from said power on his part. It would swiftly turn her into the strongest person in the country, if not the world, but if the Dungeon ever grew hostile, she’d be worse than useless.

And yet, if she didn’t sign that contract, she wouldn’t have that power either.

On top of that, could she afford to turn down this offer? There were two magical parties that were on their side, and an entire world dotted with horror shows.

One of their allies was a small tribe, and the other was almost entirely unable to act outside a very small domain. They needed power in the world at large, and they needed it now.

“Would you be willing to offer that deal to more people?” Jaclyn asked, already silently tensing up. It felt too good, too perfect.

“A few. But I can’t offer it to everyone,” the monkey said. “As a Dungeon, I exist to offer a challenge for my delvers, I literally can’t provide those kinds of protections to everyone. If you want an entire team of powerhouses to keep this country safe, though, I can do that. Now, is there anything else you need added to the contract?”

Numbly, Jaclyn shook her head, still trying to find the hidden sting. Was it as simple as him wanting to ensure that the most promising members of the BPA wouldn’t be able to hurt him? That couldn’t possibly be it, right?

And yet, it was such a simple deal, where could the trap possibly be hidden?

It wasn’t her instincts that were screaming warnings, but rather, the most paranoid part of her brain, and not because there was anything concrete to be scared or wary of, just … it was too good to be true. Was the thing she was missing that the Dungeon was getting more out of the deal than she was seeing, or the fact that Daedalus didn’t see what he was offering as a big deal?

How did this work? What was it that she wasn’t seeing?

But even with all of these thoughts whirling through her mind, she was also certain that she could not afford to turn down this deal.

So she retrieved a pen from one of the many hidden pockets of her new suit and signed the contract.

***

“Thank you,” Thomas said. “I won’t keep you from your work anymore, though. Just bring more copies of the contract and the people you want power-leveled, and I’ll handle the rest. Though I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that to more than five or maybe ten.”

“Thank you,” Abrams said, signaled the driver to stop, and left. She’d been looking so nervous, she must have been desperate to attack the literal mountain of work that had to be waiting for her.

Thomas just couldn’t wait to have people for every part of the Dungeon, to properly challenge his bosses, and to see what heights people could grow to without having to fear that the power would be turned against him.

***

It was late, very late, when Jaclyn’s phone finally rang and a familiar voice was on the other end when she answered. A voice she’d been expecting quite a while ago.

“I’m an hour away from London, can you be there?”

“Maybe, Robert,” she sighed. “I can be there in maybe … ninety minutes?”

“You’re still working?”

“Yep the current head of our government is literally in the next room over and I can’t really get away right now.

“Just go up to the precinct, explain that you’re Eve’s father, show them your ID when they ask for it, and they’ll send her your way. I’ll also call ahead and ask them to make sure there’s a room at the Holiday Inn for you to sleep in. But don’t you dare leave before get a chance to say goodbye.”

“Uh … sure?”

“I’ll get you a hotel room,” Jaclyn assured him. “You won’t have time to drive back today anyway.”

“Thanks, see you in a bit. We’ll get ice cream or something while we’re waiting.”

Robert hung up.

Day one of her new job, and everyone else was already starting to have to work around her freshly erratic schedule. What a fantastic start.

Not that her schedule had been particularly predictable before, but somehow, this felt like a dark omen for her future work-life balance. Then again, she’d always managed before, and she’d manage again.

***

Getting out of the meeting took a long while, but eventually, Jaclyn was free and drove to the location Robert had texted her. It was already dark out, and under normal circumstances, Eve should have already been in bed by now, but it was a pretty special circumstance, and you could bend the rules in those, as long as it was understood that the unique situation was the reason for why the rules weren’t obeyed and that this would not become the norm.

It was a pub, though one mostly focussed mostly on the aesthetic of “pub”, serving traditional British food, rather than a proper watering hole containing a rowdy mess of drunkards.

And she knew that for certain despite never having been here before, for one simple reason. It was within her precinct’s area of responsibility, and if it were prone to drunken chaos, she, as a police officer, would have been aware of it. Sad but true. That was part of why she was so happy to live away from here. As a police officer, you always saw the worst sides of the area that surrounded the precinct.

Eve was currently sitting at a table with a glass of lemonade of some kind, leafing through a book that Robert must have brought, while her father alternated between watching, looking at something on his phone, and talking to Eve about what she was seeing in the book.

“Hey, there you are,” Jaclyn plastered on a big smile as she slid into the booth next to Eve, ruffling her hair.

“Hi mummy,” Eve beamed up at her. “Did you have fun at work?”

Work had been … stressful but rewarding, exhausting but it had gotten them somewhere. However, dumping one’s woes on a six-year-old was no way to be a parent.

“Oh, it was hard, moppet, but we got a lot done.”

“Like what?”

“Well, mummy’s going to be the boss of a whole lot of people now,” Jaclyn explained. “We’re going to protect all of England from the big bad monsters.”

Eve’s eyes shone at that, making Jaclyn practically melt on the inside.

“And when you come back from daddy’s house, we’re going to have a new big new home,” Jaclyn promised.

“With a pool?” Eve asked cheekily.

“Probably not,” Jaclyn admitted. London real estate could not be compared to the outermost edge of Manchester, where there were large chunks of space available.

“Daddy’s got a pool,” Eve grinned up at her.

“And when you’re staying with daddy, you can use it as much as you want,” Jaclyn said. “You’re going to be staying with him for a while.”

She hugged her daughter. She’d have loved to hold her tight, just sit there for an hour together, but Eve was currently in an “extreme parental affection is yucky” phase, so the hug was much briefer than it should have been.

“I love you, Eve,” she whispered before letting go.

“I love you too, mummy,” Eve said back, making tears prickle at Jaclyn’s eyes, even as she was forced to let go when her daughter began to grow fidgety.

They talked for a few more minutes until Robert led Eve away by the hand.

“You’re going to love Manchester. There’s the pool, a bunch of kids your age, and I even found a fantastic school for you.”

“School?” Eve practically screeched.

Oh dear, you’ve done it now. Jaclyn suppressed a snigger.

“I don’t wanna go to school! I wanna stay with MOMMY!”

“I know school isn’t fun, but …”

“NO!”

Robert turned back to her with pleading eyes, but the only grace Jaclyn would give him was to not start laughing until he and Eve were out of earshot. He had absolutely brought that on his own head.

Jaclyn observed the chaos for a few minutes, eventually deciding that she would step in and help if she could come up with something that would actually be helpful, but she couldn’t. The shine of “oh, I get to go to school now” had vanished for Eve, now, she hated it, and the last couple of weeks had seemed like paradise for her.

But now, it was time to go back to school and she really didn’t want to.

Eventually, Robert just picked Eve up and walked out while Jaclyn ordered a beer for herself. Drinking alone in a bar might be just about the most cliche thing she, a police officer in the middle of a devastatingly dangerous situation, could do, but it was what she felt like doing in the here and now.

Tomorrow would come soon enough. She could take the time to drink a couple of pints before she drove home, still entirely sober due to her near-immunity to toxins, hoping she’d be able to get some sleep.

And if she didn’t, well, she could always abuse her ability to ignore the negative consequences of abusing caffeine.