Guildmaster Eran’s fingers trembled slightly as he set the letter down. His jaw clenched. The words burned in his mind—the delegation’s recklessness, their arrogant dismissal of guild expertise, and now, fifteen dead. Fifteen elite soldiers, wiped out because of sheer audacity.
“They ignored us,” Eran growled, his voice cold as steel. “They thought they knew better, that our warnings were just cowardice.”
One advisor slammed a fist on the table. “They belittled our people! Walked into our domain, mocked our skills, and endangered the lives of adventurers who rely on us!”
High Scribe Elara nodded, her eyes narrowed. “Their hubris cost them dearly, but they didn’t just insult us—they compromised the safety of everyone who steps into that dungeon.”
Another advisor leaned forward, voice grim. “We need to control the narrative. The delegation’s failure was their own. If we don’t act now, we risk taking the blame.”
Eran took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “We’ll draft an official statement. The delegation acted against our advice and paid the price. We’ll emphasize that the gate was sealed to prevent further catastrophe. If they’d escaped, the dungeon might have spilled its horrors into the kingdom.”
A murmur of agreement passed through the room.
“And what of the dungeon’s expansion?” Elara asked, her quill poised.
Eran’s gaze turned distant. “It’s locked now—the system saw to that. This dungeon isn’t going anywhere, and neither are we. We’ll prepare, rebuild, and make sure no one forgets that the guild knows best when it comes to dungeons.”
Eran leaned heavily on the edge of the table, his eyes scanning the grim faces around him. The room felt like it was holding its breath.
“We need to be ready for accusations,” Eran said, his voice low and steady. “The crown might not take kindly to us closing the gate, even if it was necessary.”
An advisor slammed his fist onto the table. “They’ll blame us for abandoning the delegation. But if we hadn’t sealed that gate, the dungeon would’ve spilled out and destroyed everything in its path.”
High Scribe Elara didn’t look up from her writing. “Logic won’t matter to those looking for a scapegoat. We need to protect the guild. If the crown blames us for this, we could lose everything we’ve built.”
Eran nodded. “Hide our assets. Redistribute funds and supplies to outposts outside the capital. If punishment comes, we won’t be left defenseless. Move supplies to the northern outposts first,” Eran ordered. “We can’t risk the capital’s stores being seized if this goes south.”
Murmurs of agreement filled the chamber.
Eran straightened and took a steadying breath. “I’ll go to the palace and request an audience with the king. I need to make sure he understands the truth: we didn’t act out of defiance, but out of duty.”
A courier stepped forward, readying his satchel. “Should I send word to Ulrick and his team, sir?”
“Yes,” Eran confirmed. “They need to know what’s happening. Tell them to stay put, no diving the dungeon for now, and keep their heads down until we resolve this.”
The courier nodded and rushed out the door.
Eran looked back at his advisors. “Elara, draft our official statement. Make it clear that the delegation acted against our counsel and endangered lives.”
Elara’s quill scratched across parchment. “It’ll be ready by the time you return.”
He turned to the room one final time. “Stay vigilant. The guild doesn’t bow to arrogance. We endure. The guild’s strength isn’t just in swords and spells,” Eran said firmly. “It’s in our judgment. And no pompous delegation will take that from us.”
A solemn determination settled over the group. They weren’t out of danger, but they would fight to survive.
Royal Court:
King Aldemar read the letter with a scowl. His fingers tightened around the parchment. The storm outside seemed to echo his mood. Fools. The delegation, those arrogant braggarts, had ignored the guild’s warnings, mocked their expertise, and now they were dead.
“They dared to look down on the guild, and this is the result,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “Their incompetence has cost us lives and dignity. Their arrogance shamed us, but it’s my duty to ensure their mistakes don’t doom us. ”
Chad Gepit adjusted his spectacles, his expression carefully neutral. “The guild’s actions—sealing the gate—likely prevented a disaster, Your Majesty. If the monsters had breached the dungeon, the kingdom could be facing an uncontained rampage.”
A few nobles muttered in agreement. Others remained silent, their faces pale.
Aldemar exhaled, his anger giving way to calculation. “We cannot afford to make enemies of the guild. Nor can we allow such recklessness to repeat itself. Chad, I want a military encampment established near the dungeon. Our soldiers will train under the guild’s supervision. We’ll rebuild our reputation and ensure our forces are prepared.”
Chad nodded. “And Lucy?”
The king’s gaze darkened briefly. “She’s a child, but she has power—or influence—over that dungeon. We need her on our side.”
“You wish for me to extend an apology?” Chad asked.
Aldemar’s jaw tightened, then relaxed. “Yes. Apologize. Offer her gifts. Make it clear she has the kingdom’s respect and protection. We need allies, not enemies.”
Chad bowed slightly. “It will be done, Your Majesty.”
The king’s eyes turned to the storm cloud on the horizon. “This dungeon... it’s a threat, yes, but also an opportunity. We’ll handle it wisely. No more foolish pride.”
The nobles exchanged glances, some nodding, others hesitant. The weight of the decision hung in the air, but for now, the storm would be contained.
A younger noble with a calculating expression spoke up. “Your Majesty, consider this—the dungeon holds unique resources. If we harness them, we could forge weapons and armor to strengthen the royal army. Losing the dungeon would be a waste of potential.”
King Aldemar’s eyes narrowed, studying the noble. He leaned slightly toward Chad. “Who is that?”
Chad whispered back, “Lord Cedric Marveil. Skilled in logistics and trade. He’s overseen several successful supply chain expansions.”
The king’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Lord Cedric,” he said, his voice ringing through the hall, “would you take responsibility for this dungeon and the lands surrounding it?”
Cedric’s eyes widened, surprise and pride battling for dominance. He bowed deeply. “It would be my honor, Your Majesty.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Good.” The king’s tone brooked no argument. “You are now Baron of the Swamplands. The smallest barony in the kingdom, for now, but it may grow. Ensure the dungeon is studied, its resources cataloged, and its potential harnessed.”
The baron nodded vigorously. “II’ll make the Swamplands prosper, Your Majesty. The dungeon’s resources will serve the crown. But i will need time to prepare. At least a week.”
King Aldemar took a deep breath, letting his gaze linger on Lord Cedric for a moment longer. Satisfied, he straightened and turned his attention back to the gathered nobles.
“Good,” the king said, his voice firm. “With that dungeon in capable hands, we can turn our focus to more pressing matters.” He leaned back, a shadow passing over his expression. “The Galen Theocracy still blocks our trade routes through the Eastern Passage...
Ulrick and the Gang:
The third day of waiting had settled over the village of Mar like a thick, wet fog. The distant rumble of thunder echoed through the swamp, but the dungeon entrance remained stubbornly sealed. A wall of monsters blocked the tunnel—silent, watchful, unyielding. Ulrick’s team had tried reasoning, shouting, even pleading. The dungeon's message was clear: Closed.
Ulrick leaned against the tavern doorway, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes flicked to the caldera in the distance, frustration etched into every line of his face.
"We could just climb down," Gale suggested, for what felt like the hundredth time.
Ulrick shook his head. "We’ve been over this. The monsters aren’t attacking, but they’re not letting anyone through either. The dungeon doesn’t want us inside."
Gale grunted, kicking at a loose stone. “So, what do we do now? Sit here and rot?”
A loud crash interrupted them. Ulrick turned toward the source of the noise, his brow furrowing.
Inside the tavern, Nole was perched on a table, waving a half-empty bottle of ale in one hand. Her jacket and boots were discarded, and her shirt was tied up to expose her midriff. She swayed to the off-tune rhythm of a bard’s lute, her face flushed with drink and defiance.
“♪ The dungeon is shut, but who gives a damn! ♪” Nole sang, her voice slurring. “♪ We’ll drink, we’ll dance, until we can slam! ♪”
The gathered patrons erupted in cheers and laughter as Nole twirled, nearly falling off the table before catching herself.
Ulrick groaned, rubbing his temples. “Of course. This is what it’s come to.”
Vin, standing beside him with his usual stoic expression, tilted his head. “Coping mechanism. Effective, in own way.”
Ulrick sighed. “It’s only effective until the hangover hits.”
Brill chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a resigned smile. “Let her have her fun. We all need it. Staring at that damned blocked entrance is driving us mad.”
The tavern door swung open, and a cold breeze carried the scent of damp earth and ozone. Ulrick’s eyes drifted back to the storm-clouded caldera. Three days. Three days of waiting, uncertainty, and tension. Three days of feeling useless.
“We need something to focus on,” he muttered. “Something to keep us sharp.”
Gale nodded. “Like what? Monster hunting? Swamp survival drills? I’ll take anything at this point.”
A sudden thought struck Ulrick. He straightened, determination hardening his features. “We can’t get into the dungeon, but that doesn’t mean we can’t prepare. The swamp’s bigger now. New dangers, new resources. Let’s map it out, see what’s changed. If we can’t fight monsters, we’ll fight ignorance.”
Vin’s eyes lit up slightly. “Knowledge good. Knowledge prepare.”
Ulrick turned back to the tavern, where Nole was now leading a drunken chorus of adventurers. “Alright, let’s get her off that table before she breaks a leg.”
Gale smirked. “You think she’ll come willingly?”
“Nope,” Ulrick said, cracking a rare smile. “But that’s what makes it fun.”
With a shared sense of purpose, they stepped into the warmth and chaos of the tavern, ready to pull their team back together and face the unknown—one map, one drink, and one ridiculous dance at a time.
The fog clung to the swamp like a cold, wet shroud. Ulrick’s team trudged through the muddy terrain, their boots sinking into the soft earth with each step. The air was heavy with the scent of damp vegetation, and the distant rumble of thunder echoed through the twisted swamp trees.
Nole, still slightly drunk but remarkably steady on her feet, hummed a cheerful tune. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she twirled a dagger between her fingers. “♪ Huntin’ gators, killin’ time, makin’ armor that looks so fine... ♪”
Gale shot her a sidelong glance. “You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”
Nole grinned, winking. “Buzzed, not drunk. There’s a difference.”
Vin tilted his head, his gaze scanning the surroundings. “Signs of movement. Alligator. Maybe dungeon animal.”
Ulrick nodded, his jaw set in determination. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with. Stay sharp.”
They pushed forward, the underbrush growing thicker. Suddenly, a low, guttural growl cut through the air. A pair of glowing eyes peered out from beneath the murky water, just before a massive shape lunged forward.
A dungeon alligator.
“Get back!” Ulrick ordered.
Gale rolled aside, drawing his sword. “I’ve had enough of these oversized lizards!”
With practiced efficiency, the team closed in. Vin’s healing magic shimmered in the background, ready to mend wounds, while Brill flanked the creature, his dagger gleaming.
Nole darted forward, her eyes alight with excitement. “Come on, big guy! Let’s see if you’re worth a new outfit!”
With a well-placed strike, Ulrick’s axe cleaved into the alligator’s neck. The beast thrashed once before collapsing, the parasitic glow fading from its eyes.
The swamp fell silent once more, save for Nole’s triumphant laugh.
“Ha! That was almost too easy!” She knelt beside the corpse, running her fingers over the dark, glossy scales. “These’ll make great chest armor. Or boots. Or—” she hiccupped, swaying slightly. “Or underwear. Imagine me in fireproof underwear!”
Gale snorted. “We’ll let the smiths and alchemists worry about that.”
Brill chuckled, wiping his blade clean. “You know, fire-resistant gear might actually be useful. Smiths, cooks, alchemists... even adventurers who deal with fire-based monsters.”
Nole blinked, her drunken grin widening. “See? I knew it! I’m a visionary!”
Ulrick shook his head, unable to hide his smile. “Alright, let’s find more of these things. We’ve got a swamp full of dungeon beasts and an empty dungeon to thank for it. Might as well make the most of it.”
Vin nodded. “More scales, more protection. Good trade.”
As they set off deeper into the swamp, the tension that had gripped them for days began to ease. The dungeon might be closed, but the swamp was alive with opportunity—and they were adventurers, after all. This was what they did best.
The swamp mist hung low, tendrils of fog curling around the group’s legs as they pushed deeper into the wilds. Vin crouched low, his sharp eyes scanning the undergrowth. His fingers brushed against a patch of vibrant green ferns tipped with faintly glowing blue edges.
“This plant,” he murmured, pulling a small knife from his belt, “has trace magical properties. Glowfern. Used in low-level light potions.”
He carefully cut the stems and placed them into a leather pouch.
Brill peered over Vin’s shoulder. “You think we’ve got an alchemical goldmine here?”
Vin nodded. ““Dungeon grew far. Rare ingredients. Look for bright colors, strange patterns.”
As they moved forward, the group’s pouches filled quickly with curious flora—shimmering moss, luminescent fungi, and spiked red berries that Vin swore were used in explosive concoctions.
Nole kicked at a clump of mud, uncovering a bright yellow mushroom with a faint crackling aura. “What about this one?” she asked, swaying slightly. Her buzz hadn’t completely worn off yet.
Vin’s eyes widened. “Careful with that! That’s a Thunder Cap. Highly volatile if crushed. Could fetch a fortune if it’s intact.”
“Oops.” Nole grinned and tucked it carefully into Vin’s pouch. “No sudden movements, got it.”
----------------------------------------
After a while, Gale knelt beside the corpse of an alligator they’d taken down earlier. The beast’s dark scales gleamed under the filtered light, and its muscular frame suggested power even in death.
Nole crouched beside him, her eyes sharp and focused now. “Alright, pay attention. Butchering isn’t just hacking away—you gotta know what you’re looking for.”
She drew a curved skinning knife and made a precise incision along the alligator’s belly. Her hands moved deftly, peeling back the thick hide.
“See these scales?” she pointed with the tip of her knife. “You want clean cuts. Damage the hide, and you lose value.”
Gale watched closely, his brow furrowed. He mimicked her technique, slicing carefully and removing a section of scales. They piled the usable hide in a bundle, the dark material promising strong, flexible armor.
“The meat looks pretty good, too,” Gale said, examining a cut of the alligator’s flank. The flesh was firm and marbled with thin veins of fat. “I wonder how it tastes. Mind if I take some with me? I know a cook in the academy who loves to experiment.”
Nole laughed. “You wanna eat dungeon gator? You’re braver than I thought.”
“Hey, if we’ve got a dungeon that even provides food, we’re onto something big. Imagine the possibilities.” Gale wrapped the meat carefully in cloth. “This is the first dungeon I’ve heard of with a real, functioning ecosystem. Other dungeons have rats or vermin at best. This place? It’s alive.”
Ulrick nodded, surveying their haul. “We’ve got scales for armor, magical plants for potions, and maybe even food. Adrian’s dungeon is a goldmine, and we need to make sure we’re ready when it reopens.”
Brill smirked. “If it reopens.”
“It will,” Ulrick said with certainty. “And when it does, we’ll be ready.”
As they turned back toward the academy, their packs weighed down with resources, the swamp seemed less ominous. For the first time in days, they felt like adventurers again—pioneers on the edge of discovery.