We fly up into the library, blasting around the shelves with lightning speed just as the cloud of air beneath myself dissipates. My boots thud against the carpeting and I keep running, time is money after all. The pit comes into sight and the books come to make their usual bridge, seeing me approach. Rats scurry all around the shelving, as they try to get across to their queen, now seeing their chance. A voice yells from my back. “Just take the bridge you i-AAAAH!”

  I leap, jumping haphazardly over the pit. The dungeon-master clinging to my back screams as we fly. Just before me, I see the fairy-mother raising a hand to wave at me, looking up from her book for a moment. The rat-queen, who was lying curled up in a ball, using her gnawed on book as a pillow, hisses as I land, scampering out of the way as I crash against the table, the wooden construction wobbling.

The bridge of books lifts back away, shaking off dozens of rats that had made the attempt, though they seem to take the effort of dropping them next to the pit rather than down in it. Nichodemus simply hovers over the gap, a collection of books opting to hold him and him alone aloft.

“So?” I ask.

“So what, you shithead?!” asks the dungeon-master, crawling onto their chair and clinging onto it with all of their might. They turn around and yell to the library. “JAMES! BOTTLE. NOW!”

“Can you do it?” I ask.

“I hate you!” they snap at me, turning their head around before I can see their tears.

Nodding, I turn to the rat-queen and the fairy-mother. “You’re going to be spawning here now from now on.” The rat-queen hisses, swiping at me with a hand that scratches against my armor. The fairy-mother just lifts a hand and returns her gaze to her book.

The rat-queen stands up on the table, jabbing a finger into my gut as she takes the pencil out of her mouth that she has been chewing on. “Get me off of this damn table! I don’t want to spawn here! I’ll melt you into scrap and turn you into a suppository! I want to go to my throne-room!”

The dungeon-master yelps, swiping the pencil out of their hand and looking at it with a freshly tearful gaze as they stare at the gnawed wood.

Nichodemus clears his throat and we turn to look at him, but he’s just staring at the dungeon-master. “The stairs?” asks the old caster.

  “Ah! FUCK!” yells the dungeon-master, scrambling to pull together a heap of papers from beneath our feet. “Get off of my work, you two sewer dwellers!” snaps the dungeon-master, pushing me and the rat-queen to the side to grab a heap of papers. The rats all around the pit squeak in indignation. Their ireful gaze raises up to me. “This isn’t over! The second I don’t need you anymore, I’m going to make your life a living hell! I’m not going to forget this!”

Nichodemus clears his throat again.

“Fuck off you old shithead! I’m working on it!” They slam a fist against my leg. “You fuck off too! I need some space to work! Go get your ass whipped by the hero or something, like always! You trash!” They look back. “JAMES! WHERE’S MY BOTTLE?!”

  James doesn’t show up. He’s… incapacitated. Instead Thelma flies around the corner, carrying a bottle of red-wine on her back. The dungeon-master doesn’t acknowledge her efforts, opting to simply swipe the bottle off of her and rip it open, readily guzzling large mouthfuls of it to ease the shaking of their body.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

I turn to leave, looking at the three additional people sitting at the dungeon-master’s table and I look down to my favorite dungeon-master one last time before I go. “Try to make some friends, you seem lonely.”

The glare at me, their fists clenching the neck of the bottle that they readily drain as I leap back across the pit.

  My boots thud against the carpet and I return to keep running, feeling four pairs of eyes on me as I leave. I bet they’re looking at my cape, it’s pretty neat. Some people just have good taste, you know? Yeah, you know. I round the bend towards the stairs, hoping that I won’t run into the hero-party on the way. There’s still so much work left to do and time is running short.

Finding the stairs, I ascend towards the apex of the world.

Now, I know this has all been a little confusing for you, guy. And for you, eyeyoume. I get it. I make things weird sometimes, it’s not that I try to, it’s just kind of what my brain does, you know?

Metal rattles around myself as my armor clanks against my bones. Haha. Clank. Clank.

But it was important. It was important that I collect the rat-queen, the fairy-mother, Nichodemus. There are still a few people left on my list. But it was important. They’re the fuel for my CONVICTION. My fist grips the lance tighter as I run, as I hurry, as I scamper-scamper.

They don’t know it, but I do it for them.

I breach the next floor and keep running. Never stopping.

I can’t escape the dungeon, I can’t focus on my work if I know that I failed someone else. I’ve lost track of so many people, of so many faces. I’ve let down so many trusting hearts and destroyed so many strong feelings.

My cape billows behind myself as I run, dramatically. I wish somebody was watching me. I bet I look cool.

So I need to keep them all together, I need to keep them all bundled nice and tight. Collected into one amalgamation of things that are important to me. They might not understand it. They might hate me for it -

The dungeon-master hates me because of who I am.

Nichodemus hates me because of who I’m not.

The rat-queen hates me because of what I am.

Only the fairy-mother I can’t speak for, but perhaps she hates me as well because of how long I took to finally understand her message. I’m not very bright, after all.

  But that doesn’t matter. Their dislike of me. Their strong feelings of intense distaste for the being that is me. For you me and I. It doesn’t matter, guy. Because I have you, because I have eye you and me. Because I can hear it. I can hear the sound in the walls. I can feel the thing in the black-water.

My breastplate lurches as I feel the strike of my heart, as I feel all the proof that I need that this next step I take is the right one. My heart beats again and I take another step. Again. Another step.

It’s all the proof I need. I narrow my eyes. It doesn’t matter if they don’t see. It doesn’t matter if they don’t understand. It doesn’t matter if they hate me. I’m going to do it for them.

I speed up as I see the light breaking ahead of me, just above.

I’m going to do it for them. If they like it or not.

I break through the veil, entering back into floor eighty-nine, the rainbow-meadow, as I hear that familiar sound come to envelop me. As I hear the jaunty tune coming from the structure just down the road.

A tap rings out aloud. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Ding. Ding. Ding.

  And I look, I look as my body begins to bob, as my lance begins to strike against the stones of the road below in sync with the melody of the calliope. As my metal boot taps to the beat. As I bounce and dance, skipping down the way to the sound I hear. To that beautiful tune, as I head down towards the windmill at the end of the road.

“Why, hello there, Mr. Lance-hero!” calls out a voice from next to me. I shake my hands in a fun little motion as I turn and bob to look down at the face staring up at me with wide, wondrous eyes. They’re so shiny. They’re so… full of life.

Gasping in delight, I speak. “Why hello there, missus Dandelion! How are you on this lovely, perfect day?” I ask the little flower staring up at me.

  “Why, I’m just dandy! Dande-lion that is!” She laughs. I laugh. Everybody laughs. Everybody laughs. Everybody laughs! Everybody is laughing at me. At me. At me. At me. DANDELION. DANDELION. I clutch my eyes. My eyes that see. That see. That see. Do you get it? Do you see? IT'S BECAUSE SHE’S A DANDELION!

“Say, would a big, strong, gentleman like you happen to be on your way to see the miller?”

I clutch my cheeks, blushing. “Oh missus Dandelion!” I sweep my foot bashfully over the stones. “Why yes, yes I am!”

She dances from side to side in delight, to the tune of the miller’s song as I hold out my hand to her. “Would you like to accompany me?”

“Please! I would be delighted to,” says missus Dandelion and begins uprooting herself. I look away, blushing as she pulls her meat-roots out of the MEAT-FLOOR. MEAT-FLOOR. I’m a gentleman after all.

Climbing onto my hand, I carry her at my side, as we jaunt together towards the miller’s.

We’re going to see the miller, guy. I TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOU. My eyes spasm. BUT YOU WOULDN’T LISTEN.

NOBODY EVER LISTENS.

The calliope plays on, as if nothing had changed. Maybe that’s why they can’t listen. Maybe they just can’t hear. Maybe they just don’t have the right kind of eyes.