—Luneil—

When creating a tunnel angled down into the heart of a mountain, it's important to check one thing.

Don't be spherical.

Avoiding this simple state of being was, unfortunately, not an option for Luneil.

The ground disappeared beneath him, replaced by a smooth steep slope descending twenty feet down, terminating in a rounded depression at the far side.

The walls spun past him, before he was brought to a sudden jarring halt by the end of the tunnel.

Okay, let's not do that again.

Zeph flew down to meet him, laughing delightedly, "Embarrassing yourself as usual?" She looked back up at the stone enclosed circle of night sky, "A bit small, don't you think? Actually, wait, nevermind, size doesn't matter." Zeph grinned at him.

Luneil practically turned red, an impressive feat for a crystal. Ignoring Zeph's jab, he looked back the way he came, the tunnel was only twelve inches in diameter and perfectly round. Nothing, except the occasional fat marmot or baby deer, would be able to come down.

Which reminded him of something. His flights of Dire Ravens were outside of his influence. Urgh... Contacting them might be somewhat of a pain, although if worst came to worst he could always create something to drag himself out of the hole he had made for himself.

But first, he had to fix the tunnel, or else any Ravens he created would be unable to fly inside it.

How big are people?

Zeph giggled once again, before answering, "It depends, gnomes can be as short as two and a half feet, while elves can be seven feet. Other creatures like Anolin can be much larger, but very few of them fight since the last Burrow War."

Anolin?

"Sentient clockwork beings that were created by the gnomes for labor. Instead, they rose up against the gnomes to gain their independence. Now, their races are best of friends, ironically. But it makes for an important lesson, the more intelligent you make something, the less likely it is to do what you want it to. That applies for Dungeon creatures as well."

And you?

"Don't be silly. Sylph are special. We are made to serve our creator." Zeph's form shifted to smile winningly at him.

And who's that?

Even Zeph's voice sounded as if it was rolling its eyes. "The Dungeon that created us, obviously. Haven't I served you faithfully?"

Luneil would have mimicked the gesture, if he could, but he settled for creating a pair of Raven eyeballs near the top of the tunnel and letting them do the rolling instead.

"Ewww. What is wrong with you?"

Want a list?

"Yes."

Let's see. What's this? Nothing? Oh, more nothing. And, look, another entry. What's this? It says—

"Let me guess: nothing." Zeph butted in.

No, actually. It says: Sylph. Hmmm. I wonder what that means.

Zeph pouted, leveling a kick at him, "Get back to work, minion. There's still a project or two that you haven't botched yet."

Luneil created a few more eyeballs, just for Zeph, and set to work expanding the tunnel so that it was eight feet high, three wide and with a flat, smooth, down-sloping floor rather than a rounded one.

That should be able to accommodate most people.

Luneil focused his attention on the sulking Sylph.

So. You were going to show me how to make gaseous mana?

"Feel your mana inside yourself and let it seep out past your body. Maintain the sense of connection you have with it once it leaves your surface."

Luneil did as he was told.

Slowly, a blue mist began to envelop him. It was the strangest feeling. He could touch the motes of dust scattered across the floor, taste the sweet coolness of the breeze and the delicious crisp green sharpness of pine needles and mountain grass.

The world as he knew it expanded. He knew the concepts of hot and cold, he knew that things had scents and textures. He had experienced similar things through the patterns he had obtained.

But it simply did not compare. A whole new dimension of sensory vividness and vibrancy had opened up to him, overwhelming him beneath a wave of concepts that had suddenly been given meaning.

He pushed more gaseous mana out towards the entrance of his tunnel, feeling his consciousness flowing up towards the outside world along with it.

He surged out into open, relishing the night air as it gusted against him, tearing away small strands of mana from his cloud.

The loss meant little to him. His mana recovery from the Lifeforce he had acquired was massive compared to the negligible losses he sustained from the wind. While his Lifeforce supply was often precarious and limited, his mana reserves were anything but.

An interesting idea struck him. Had his influence changed now that he was surrounded in a cloud of his own mana?

He pushed the cloud further and further, the rate of loss increasing as he billowed outwards towards his Dire Ravens. He might as well try and bring them back in. It would also allow him to test out his influence.

As he neared, he began continuously ordering them to return to him.

The first tendrils of his mana crept within five feet of the nearest Raven. As if suddenly registering his command, it hopped towards his tunnel.

Okay, so his influence extended twenty feet from his body and five feet from his mana cloud. He could work with that.

He instructed the rest of the Ravens to come towards him, before withdrawing his gaseous mana back to the mouth of his Dungeon complex. If he could even call his basic tunnel a complex.

He could see why Dungeons built underground. While the losses from the wind were minimal, if he had been fully exposed to the wind he would have been stripped of a lot more. The tunnel, however, served to act as a container of sorts for the swirling blue mist, protecting it from the gradual attrition of the mountain gusts.

Zeph was humming to herself, nodding in satisfaction at the mist.

"Very good, you've obviously retained some of your instincts from your past life. Mana manipulation isn't always easy, especially when you're starting out. That being said, I didn't have that high expectations anyway."

Luneil projected the impression of a stony-eyed stare.

Zeph stared right back at him, "Oooh. Isn't this fun? Let's see who can stare the longest. Oh. That's right. You have no eyes. So I guess that means I w—"

The Sylph shrieked as a veritable flood of Raven eyeballs filled the tunnel to the very top. It had cost a fair amount of mana, although no Lifeforce, since they were not actually alive.

You were saying? Luneil projected the thought in as dry a tone as he could muster, unable to keep a slight vein of amusement out of it.

"Pah. Get these disgusting things out of here." Zeph's voice was muffled by the press of jelly-like orbs entombing her.

Luneil chuckled, leaving the eyeballs in place for a couple more seconds before annihilating them, recovering the majority of the energy he had invested in them. Worth it.

So. What now?

Zeph glowered at him for a second before replying, "You've made an entrance, in both senses of the word. Not a particularly graceful one, but it will do for now. It would probably be a good idea to make a room for yourself and any monsters you've created."

Luneil got to work, hollowing out the area in front of him with mana.

He had only extended out fourteen feet, however, when the far end of the newly made cavern collapsed in a burst of rubble and splintered stone.

What happened?

"The apocalypse?" Zeph shrugged, her voice completely deadpan.

He projected a withering look in her direction.

"Fine," the Sylph groaned, "you need to redistribute the load on the room's ceiling. Either redirect it into the walls or maintain a slow trickle of mana into the rock to counteract the excessive weight of the ceiling."

It made sense. His Dungeon complex was like a hollow being with an exoskeleton of stone. Adding too much weight would cause that exoskeleton to collapse, which meant that he would need to adjust how his room bore the weight of the mountain above it.

He spread his gaseous mana throughout the room to ensure that his influence would be able to reach everywhere, even between the cracks in the rubble.

Luneil repaired the ceiling where it had collapsed, strengthening the stone and arranging it so as to transfer its weight onto the side walls.

He cleared the rocks strewn over the floor and smoothed out where there rockfall had pitted it.

However, he couldn't be certain that the parts of the room he hadn't fixed would hold.

His gaseous mana began to seep into the walls through microscopic cracks. They took on an iridescent sheen and he felt a pressure begin to build up inside of him. Whenever he pushed mana into the rock it seemed to interact weakly with his gaseous mana, causing a small backlash of mana to return to him.

However, the backlash was minimal and he tried pushing past it, not particularly worried about any adverse effects. Zeph had said he could infuse mana into the rock, and while she could be infuriating and mischievous, she was never actually malicious. She took far too much pride in her role for that.

The sheen faded away and the stone walls became joined to his consciousness. Like a muscle, he flexed them and they contracted, showering the ground in dust as cracks began to appear.

An aching grew in one area, a sharp tearing sensation that dissipated as soon as he channeled mana towards it.

Luneil examined the area more closely. As he watched, the mana was being expended, swirling down into two ends of a large crack that had been hastily prevented from widening.

That wouldn't do. Not at all.

He plugged it with newly created stone, seamlessly melded to the rest of the wall.

Painstakingly, he began smoothing out the entire room, previously unnoticed tension now making itself known by its absence.

Once finished, he began expanding the chamber again, restructuring his new walls with mana.

He worked in a daze, adding in columns of joined stalagmites and stalactites to help provide extra support for the ceiling.

Finally, he was happy with the room. Shrouded entirely in a faint mist of gaseous mana, it was one hundered feet wide by more than two hundred feet long and the floor sloped gently downwards along that length.

Where the tunnel connected to it, the height of the ceiling was eight feet, at the far end of the room, however, it was a comparatively lofty twenty feet. Occasional pillar-like stalagmites and stalactites would jut out from the ceiling and floor, breaking up the monotony of what would otherwise be a rectangular room with a sloping floor.

Now he just needed to put things in it. He just didn't know what or in how large a quantity.

It was a dilemma of balancing growth with safety. By having a high mortality rate he would be able to personally grow quickly, but it would be counteracted by making risking venturing into his depths less attractive, not to mention that an excessive fatality rate would mark him out as a rogue Dungeon. Furthermore, no one would want to live near an unsafe Dungeon, which would mean less adventurers in the long run.

Comparatively, just letting adventurers waltz in and out with precious treasures and greater power would simply result in him being exploited, thereby stunting his growth.

Which brought up another issue. If he made too many monsters while maintaining a low death rate, he would make large losses of Lifeforce over time, which would be unacceptable.

Which meant he had to be smart.

His monsters didn't have to be the ones killing the adventurers, just the ones assisting in their death.

Which meant he needed to make traps that would use the laws of the world against anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in them.

Sharp objects could impale, long falls could kill and a sufficient number of descending rocks would bury someone until they were crushed or air ran out.

Luneil began placing traps around the hollowed out room, copying the same designs for most of them, but inserting unique ones every now and then. He wasn't sure if all of them would work, but those that did would provide him with promising mechanisms for new traps.

Of course, he wasn't so foolish as to leave all of them out in the open, instead disguising them with dust and sheets of stone so thin that they seemed translucent under close inspection.

Then, he covered a large area in a layer of dirt, planting Razorcoil, shrubs and herbs around the place.

He withdrew his consciousness back to his crystal body, taking in the bigger picture. Spikes of stone protruded from a sea of vegetation, sometimes standing free, other times connecting to stalactites that hung down from the ceiling.

It was fresh and green, a departure from the plain, cavernous room he'd had only a short while ago.

But it was missing something. He added in some Mirages, his insect-attracting flowers, quickly sending word to his Ravens waiting just within the entrance of his tunnel to kill any intruding bugs. He didn't want them disturbing him, even if there were likely not very many this high up on the valley slopes.

The splendid flowers added a much needed splash of color, but, yet again, the room didn't feel complete.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

What it needed was some water, the sound of a babbling stream winding its way around the stalagmites would hopefully distract less experienced adventurers. If they died to something as basic as inattention, in a Dungeon no less, they would certainly deserve it.

How to make water, though? He had no idea, especially since there was no convenient spring right next to his walls...

Wait? Was there?

Luneil probed the walls, pushing his gaseous mana deeper and deeper, infusing them with large amounts of energy to bring them under his control.

He spread out ten feet from his walls in every direction, mentally wincing at how quickly expanding his influence ate up mana, but there was nothing. Nothing but the faintest dribble of water and some strange rocks that he promptly absorbed for their patterns.

He recreated them in front of Zeph.

What's this?

Zeph gave it a cursory glance, before turning her nose up at it, "Nothing special. White Iron ore. It's relatively strong and durable, but it lacks the mana capacity of most other metals. It's used in Anolin manufacture, or birth, if you would rather call it that."

Mana capacity?

"Try letting some of your gaseous mana merge with it, don't push it."

Luneil allowed a small amount of gaseous mana to sink into it , causing the White Iron ore to iridesce ever so slightly.

Mana drained out of him. Then, even though the flow continued, it stopped being absorbed. It was like trying to fill an iced over puddle with a stream. The mana simply skimmed off the surface, refusing to fill it any further.

He stopped providing mana and slowly the sheen of mana permeating the ore died away.

Well... that was confusing.

Why was it shining? The rock walls did that, but they weren't previously under my control. And what even happened?

"You put mana into the White Iron, temporarily rearranging and strengthening its current structure. You couldn't add much, though, since it has a low mana capacity.

"Anyway, the difference was, that when you try pushing mana into something, you're forcing it to conform to you. If a living creature did that, trying to force an inanimate object to become part of them wouldn't work. But Dungeon Cores are different, blurring the lines between animate and inanimate, allowing them to control both."

Something hovered at the edge of Luneil's mind. Something painfully familiar. An echo of a remembered echo, a partially recalled thought pertaining to something he had done so often that it had practically become instinctual.

What would happen if a living being forced their mana into a living being, making it conform to them?

Zeph peered at him, head morphing from side to side in order to examine him from every angle.

Luneil endured the needless inspection, intent on getting an answer.

Finally, Zeph began to speak, slowly. Far too hesitantly for Luneil's liking, but for the sake of knowledge, he endured it. "Necromancy. It's similar to what a Dungeon does. Forcing a once living body to conform to the necromancer's will." Zeph took a breath, even though she had no lungs to speak of, "The body is turned into a husk and the soul connected to the Lifeforce is obliterated, de-individualized, so to speak. It leaves the remaining drained husk under the necromancer's control and gives a greater yield of Lifeforce. The creation of servile corpses, is associated with it, but it's not true necromancy. Necromancy is the corruption of a soul for power."

Does tha—

"No, Dungeons don't obliterate souls. The process is complicated, but eventually the soul is returned to the cycle." Zeph said with an air of finality, still observing him cautiously. As if trying to see some change in his crystal surface.

I was a necromancer in my last life, wasn't I?

Zeph jerked back, as if stung, "So you do remember?"

No. It's more feeling than thought, but it's something.

"What does the name Selgard mean to you?"

Nothi—

Regret, a ghost's tear in a spectral ocean, half forgotten, wholly unseen. A chilling pattern spreading like congealed blood across an entire city. And power. Sweet and sublime as shards of crystalline mana protruded from his...

What was that word?

...fingertips... burying themselves ever so briefly in a victim before the next rush of power. And the next victim.

"Really?" Zeph could hear the lie beneath his silence.

Luneil almost answered in detail, but he held himself back.

Gone, he said simply.

Zeph's head tilted quizzically to one side, before reforming into a nod. Her form jarred for a second, before returning to its normal elegant transition between shapes.

"No use worrying about the past. After all, if not for that, you would never have met me. And your life would have been so much worse off." She smirked, tapping a rhythm on his body, "You wouldn't be able to tell me how amazing I was."

Oh really?

"Most certainly, and I'm just getting started. Start small, finish big, you know how it is"

Luneil couldn't help it, a surge of warmth snatched him from the icy grip of the corpse-like fingers of memory. Everything was perfect as it was.

"Why don't we populate this place with some monsters, and then we can create some new ones for your Boss room."

Boss room?

"Don't worry about that for now, we are going to have so much fun."

It was actually surprisingly enjoyable. Luneil had some Ravens carry him around while they positioned monsters around the room. He could have just used his gaseous mana to sense all the areas at once, but when Zeph was flying around pointing out prime locations, sitting near the entrance and managing everything from afar seemed just a tiny bit too lazy and impersonal.

So instead he had fun. Zipping around, chasing Zeph around stalagmites and brushing against the tips of the grass, watching them bend before bouncing back upright.

It was only hours later that he realized he had forgotten something. It was minor, but it irked him that it had slipped his mind.

The stream.

"What?" Zeph came to a halt, looking at him as if he had suddenly started glowing pink.

I wanted to make a stream, but I got sidetracked by the White Iron. Except I didn't know how to make a constant stream with no water nearby.

Zeph giggled.

What? Luneil asked plaintively.

"You are so ridiculous sometimes."

I don't unders—

"You wouldn't." Zeph cut him off with a mischievous smile, before continuing. "Cisterns." She stated. "One at the top, one at the bottom, fill the top one with water and let it drain via a stream into the bottom one. You can destroy the water in the lower cistern from time to time and replace the top one's level whenever it gets low."

How do you know that?

"I used to be the Sylph for other Dungeons before you, remember. How did you think I knew so much about Dungeons and the patterns for monsters, it was hardly a secret?" She gave a dramatic sigh, "I mean really, this isn't all about you." Her tone brightened suddenly, "It's actually all about me."

Luneil ignored the capricious Sylph, instead pushing his mana further into the mountain above him and hollowing out a basic reservoir, making sure not to stray too close to the surface. He carved out his desired path for the stream, linking it up to the reservoir above, and creating a space for the water to drain into.

Finally, not wanting to encourage adventurers to wade the entire length in an effort to avoid the dangers in the rest of the room, he placed some of his nastier prototype traps along the stream.

There. Done.

He added water to the upper reservoir, feeling a thrill of pride and accomplishment at completing the water feature. He checked the traps. No adverse effects from being submerged? No. Good.

Checking his Lifeforce, he was surprised to find that he had only used around a third of it on the fifty of so Dire Ravens and Blackshell Harvesters he had distributed around the room. The deer he'd killed previously had certainly netted him a truly massive amount of power.

What was it that Zeph had been talking about?

So... what's a Boss?

"It's an powerful monster or collection of monsters that serves to test adventurers for their worthiness to descend to the next floor of your Dungeon complex." Zeph's tone became more cynically amused, "It's also an excellent excuse to kill them for their Lifeforce."

Now that was something Luneil could get behind.

What monster should I use?

"Nuh-uh, that's your job. I won't do everything for you. This is your Dungeon complex, not mine. Choose what sort of place it's going to be. It's your decision of what you want to be. Are you going to be the forge-fire in which the steel of the strongest adventurers are tested? Or will you be the warming flicker of a candle's flame, gentle and guiding, but sharp and searing to any that underestimate you and stick their hands too close?"

That was dramatic, but then again, Luneil suspected that she'd worked out what she was going to say for all these deep and pretty speeches a long time ago.

Uh, can't I be both?

Zeph looked down her nose at him, emanating smug superiority, "And just how are you going to do that?"

Well... I could help the settlers outside my Dungeon complex, but kill them in h—

The Sylph was getting frustrated, her form spiking erratically, "Are you allergic to doing things properly? Just kill them in here and give them stuff. Stop trying to revolutionize Dungeons, it's been the same way for millennia. It works."

But—

"Just make your damn Boss monster." She flew over to examine one of the Harvesters.

Luneil sighed to himself, Women.

"I heard that."

Shit. He hadn't meant to think that out loud.

Anxious to avoid the swift retribution that would inevitably be incoming, he began examining all the patterns he possessed.

There were the standard insects, however, he wasn't sure of their size limit. It might be better to start with something bigger. Then there were the small birds he had obtained, but nothing could rival his Dire Ravens. He could of course enlarge those, but it did little to alleviate the fact that their wings were a glaring vulnerability. They would be useless if they were unable to fly. He needed something strong and durable.

He looked at his mammals. Mice, deer, marmots, rats, rabbits and squirrels. None of them were particularly exciting.

Although...

He brought up the pattern of a deer. What could he mix it with?

Inspiration struck.

An adjustment here, a minor alteration there. Make those sharper, lengthen the teeth, add a bit of Lifeforce to the leg muscles to strengthen them.

An hour later Luneil felt a twinge of worry begin to worm its way inside of him.

No, no, no. That wouldn't do at all. It was completely wrong for his Dungeon complex. Having a creature like that would kill his reputation, he had definitely crossed a line somewhere.

It was a terrible mistake, a truly awf—

"It's so cuuuute!" A squeal of delight split the air. "Can I keep it?"

Fuck...

Laughingstock, here I come, Luneil thought bitterly.

Zeph was lounging between the antlers of what she had, not so tentatively, named the Squirreleer. What's worse, she had flat out demanded that he add the excessively adorable deer-squirrel hybrids to his first room.

The sounds of the room had changed completely, where there had once been only running water the occasional Raven's caw and clack of Harvester legs on stone, now it was a din of lovable barks and squeaks that sounded like, of all things, raspy quacking.

Luneil felt every ounce of self respect he possessed drain away into some unseen abyss, never to return.

Furthermore, they were totally unsuitable as a Boss monster. Even with their sharpened antlers and elongated front teeth. They clambered all over the stalagmites and stalactites, leaping incredible distances as if they were simply jumping from branch to branch. In a nutshell, the Squirreleer were just too small and winsome to be Boss monster.

He also wanted to see them die in great numbers, and that couldn't be so easily achieved otherwise.

Luneil swore a silent oath to himself, if anyone laughed at him for those fluffy monsters, Hell would have to settle for their leftovers.

What he needed was something to shut them up. Something decidedly un-cute.

Time for round two. He brought up the base pattern of the deer, once again.

What he had in mind would give those poor innocent Squirreleer nightmares, and he had the perfect room idea for it.

—Tyl—

As expected, the majority of the Exiles had died within days of returning. Some were killed by monsters, others by starvation and yet more by terrified peasants who had never seen a human in their lives.

Those Exiles didn't worry her. The living ones were more troubling. They had been taken under the wings of various groups looking to exploit the unique potential humans had.

The various parties had done it for the power they had expected the humans to wield. And indeed some members of the newly returned race might indeed transcend Rank IX in time, as they had done millennia ago, only to find that there was no true limit on power, only a limit on a person's ability to imagine it.

That was the true horror of the humans, Exiles no longer. Imagination. A unique way of thinking. Bending the world to their wills instead of finding their place within the world's natural order.

Such a state was anathema. It would only spawn conflict, bring about more instability. They would devise incredible works, with no thoughts to their consequences until after they had been unleashed, creating even grander works with greater potential for harm in order to rescue themselves from their prior mess.

Burning the forest down to put out a campfire, so to speak.

It was a pity. They were an incredible species. It would be a shame to waste them. If only they could all be set upon the right path.

She felt for the Devotions which her followers had bequeathed to her, following the link between the Lifeforce and its contributor, allowing her to peer into the Mortal Plane. It was her preferred way of viewing Era, divination was just too unclear and had a prohibitively high mana cost for general monitoring of the world.

The Devotions were necessary in a very real way, they were the threads holding the fabric of the Planes together, allowing her to easily follow the holes they passed through and see through the eyes of her devotees.

She skimmed through thousands of perspectives in an instant, until the image of a human caught her attention. She took in the blocky buildings with the shallow-sloping roofs, the familiar cathedral and the statue in the city square. Durada.

Tyl made a mental note to warn High Pardoner Fleet, if she wasn't aware already.

Actually...

She would talk to her right now. That woman was practically a saint, compared to the rest of the Pardoners, taking her duties solemnly and seriously. It had been a while since they'd had a conversation together.

She felt for a sliver of her own Lifeforce, feeling for where it was contained within a shard of a Dungeon Core, embedded in the altar of Durada's cathedral.

The altar was not suddenly wreathed in flame or light, she'd left the theatrics to her siblings, when they had been alive. Instead, a deep, dull chime rang out throughout the spacious interior of the place of worship.

Instantly, everyone dropped to their knees, waiting for the sound to fade.

Fleet, true to her name, came running. The diminutive Sol-Elva placed a reverential hand on the altar.

"What is it thou desire, my lady?" Fleet's voice had a pleasant contralto thrum to it.

"How many times do I have to tell you, stop being so deferential, not with me." Tyl said, in a not quite scolding manner, quietly amused at the familiar situation playing out.

"Yes my—Tyl. Yes, Tyl." The elf chuckled ruefully, "What may I do to help you out? I imagine it's been rather busy with the Exiles returning."

"Oh, you would not imagine. They've been keeping their heads down so far, thankfully. It's actually the other races who are causing the problems. They think to believe that I've suddenly gone blind, all because the Veil has been breached and the humans are returning." Tyl sighed, "I've tried my best, but the old rivalries are flaring up again."

"Do you think there'll be another war?" Fleet asked.

"I hope not, it's been centuries since the last one."

"You don't need to remind me, I was there."

"I know, my dear. I know. Just making conversation. You have no idea how lonely it gets up here sometimes. It's nice to have a... friend," Tyl savored the word, "to talk to."

"How do you think it will start?"

"Who knows? Some dwarf will attack a duergar, or maybe one of your people will attack a Jord-elva, perhaps the other way round. Though, in my experience, it's often the ones in the stronger position that start these things, and for the most ridiculous of reasons."

Fleet nodded, "I never understood my race's obsession with bloodlines."

"Me neither."

"So, what was it you wanted to ask me?"

Tyl sighed, "Yes, I suppose you're right. It's just been so busy that—"

Fleet coughed, it sounded suspiciously like she was holding back laughter.

"Fine. There's a human outside, in the square. Should be attracting a large crowd."

The elf nodded slowly, a frown appearing on her face, "You want me to kill it?"

"Ye—No. Make sure nothing bad happens. Bring him inside. Tell him I just want to talk."

Fleet laughed, "Don't we all."

Tyl joined in, her worries falling away, forgotten.

The elf cleared her throat politely, "Should I g—"

"Nah, stay a while. The human isn't going anywhere, it's not urgent, I'm keeping an eye on him. It's nice to chat, it's been far too long."

Fleet smiled, not saying anything.

"So. Did you hear about Loa?"

The High Pardoner nodded, "Yes, I thought it was just sensationalism though. Good on her, I've been telling her to take a break for so long. The king must have been furious."

Tyl chortled, "I've been telling her exactly the same thing. As for the king, you cannot imagine, I watched the entire thing. The official statement is that Loa only ran off with his daughter and half the treasury. What a load of crap. They emptied the whole treasury, including the door."

"The door?"

"Don't worry, I'll tell her to give it back the next time I speak to her."

"And when's that?"

"A year or two."

Fleet smiled, before her face turned serious, "I really should b—"

The Goddess sighed, "Yes. I suppose you should."

"How about next week?"

"What?"

The elf smirked, "Great! I'll put a note down, I wouldn't want to be busy. Talk to you in a week's time."

"Wait, I don—" Tyl's remaining words were wasted as Fleet abruptly withdrew her hand, already sprinting towards the city square and the human.

The Goddess shook her head, laughing to herself. If only her siblings could see her now, outmaneuvered by her own followers.

There were worse things.