As I rise up towards the next floor, I hear something exciting. A whistling. But it’s not a whistling born of pursed lips, of soft flesh blowing wind as if to project a kiss. It’s not the whistling of a hard wind, shearing against a sharp rock. It’s a smooth, heavier whistling. Like music. Like a flute. As I climb, I feel my foot tapping against the stones, I feel my knees buckling a little as I bob up and down to the jaunty little tune. What a nice song. It actually has a melody, what a treat!

It does sound a little janky though.

But that’s okay! I appreciate that someone is trying to play something. We don’t get much music down here in the dungeon. Except that one time, remember when I was a…

A…

What was I? I think I was… uh… an alcoholic? No, no, that doesn’t make any sense. Just ignore me, guy. I’m rambling again. Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah. Flute. I scoot towards the flute. Flute scoot. Flute scoot!

Haha.

Water trickles down the staircase. Only a little at first. But then more and more.

Nonetheless, I smile as I walk up the wet stairs, I wonder why I was ever sad to begin with? What is there to be sad about? I don’t really remember, but maybe it’s better that way. A minute later, I reach the end of the staircase and peer out into the world beyond, listening to the strong sound of the air pushing through the flute, bending and twisting as if it itself were dancing to the miller’s tune.

Pipes jut out in all directions. Water runs over the floor as it drips down from several broken ones, before vanishing into many grates below which are nested into the floor. Rising up, I look around the strangely familiar space. Water splashes beneath my boots as I step into it and surround myself not only with damp, musty air but also with the haunting sound of the song that bounces off of the many metal pipes, echoing around as if it were playing all around myself.

Where are you, flute-player? What are your eyes like?

Stepping into the destroyed floor, lifting my leg to step over a broken pipe, I begin exploring the area as I continue my journey. You know what this place reminds me of? It reminds me of a sewer. But it’s a lot cleaner. I don’t see any green-water anywhere. Let alone black-water. Though uh… there is a little red-water smeared on the rocks here and there. Guess the hero-party made a mess with whoever used to live here. Oh well, a little elbow grease and a good night’s sleep and that’ll buff right out. Let me know if you need any help, dungeon-master, okay? I’ll get a rag and scrub every last bit of it for you, if you want me to.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Pressing against a broken pipe, I lift it out of the way. It falls down to the side, landing with a loud, hammering clamber as it strikes against the wet rocks. The strike of its heavy fall rings out all around the floor, the reverberation carrying far off into the distance. Ah. I hope the hero-party didn’t hear that.

The playing of the flute however, goes on, entirely undisturbed.

Wait.

Do you hear that? Shh. Listen.

I lower my body, pressing my ear against the pipe next to me as I listen to the soft sound coming from the near distance. Splashing. Tiny feet are splashing in the wet. Tiny feet are splashing as they make their way through the water. Are they coming for me? Are there bad things? Here, in the water? Ooh! I press my head tighter against the pipe, listening closely to decide what my course of action should be. But the splashing doesn’t come closer.

Hmm. Maybe everything is fine.

Cautiously, I keep on walking forward, squeezing myself through the dozens of pipes and climbing up several larger ones, until I reach a giant, broken through grate that is set into the wall. The metal bars are ruptured outward towards me, as if a force has broken through from the other side, rupturing it like a demon’s womb during a violent birth. Raw water spills down, trickling into the world below myself like dribbling afterbirth. Gross.

I climb inside and follow the pipe for a while, listening to the sound of the flute growing louder and louder until eventually, I reach a second large opening and I carefully lean forward, holding on to the edge, as I look down into the chamber before me. There is a large, circular room, lined with green-water on all sides except for a straight passage on one end.

In the center, I find the source of the music. There stands a man. Though. I use the term ‘man’ generously. There are rats. Hundreds of rats. They stand in a mound, they stand, piled up on top of each other into a writhing, squirming mass. A hundred small, furry bodies, a hundred tails all knotted together to hold their form upright, a hundred squeaking rats come together to create a mockery of a man. A golem. A person, made entirely out of rats and all around him are more of their kind. A ring of dancing rats spin around ‘him’ as he stands in their center, a long flute pressed into his face, pressing in between a dozen tiny bodies as he plays that melody.

I leap down. Green-water splashes all around myself. I feel like I’ve been here before, honestly. But I can’t really figure out when. Do I hang around sewers a lot? I hope not. Mama expected better of me.

The rat-king looks at me, but then he just continues his song. The rats that dance in a circle around him spare me no mind, as they are preoccupied with their rather strange behavior. But who am I to judge?

Wait… The rat-king? There’s a rat-king? Is the rat-queen married? I mean, good for her, er… them. But I didn’t expect to find this out today. Oof. Awkward.

I scratch my head, thinking for a while, listening to the sound of the song being played and to the sound of splashing water as the rats dance around the flooded, destroyed chamber.

I look up at the rat-king who continues to play his song, apparently indifferent to my presence. I wonder if he’ll be my friend? He looks like an interesting guy. I wonder if we have anything in common that I can talk about? Something fun to break the ice, you know? People in the dungeon are always so tense. Hmm… ah! I’ve got it.

“So, rat-queen, eh?” I ask him, nudging into his side with a pointed elbow. “She sure has a funny taste in underwear, am I right?”

The music stops. Well over a hundred rats look my way. Wait. Shit. Was that a weird thing to say? Oh no. It might have been. Okay. Uh… I lift my hands, explaining further. “Ah, no, I mean. You know? It’s just the first time I saw her, she wasn’t wearing any at all and… ah…”

The rat’s bristle, their fur rising on end as they glare at me and then a second later, the rat-golem swipes towards me. I leap, jumping over him at the last second, landing on the other side as I keep running. “I’m sorry!” I yell as I run away as fast as I can, listening to the furious scampering and frothy screams of a few hundred angry rats chasing after me. Ugh. Why am I such a freaky degenerate? I’m sorry, dungeon-master. Please don’t think less of me! I was just trying to make a friend!