Theo woke the next morning feeling refreshed. Good experiments within the Dreamwalk, a new ability, and the waving away of cloudy thoughts found him eager to meet the day. Whatever happened, he was happy to face it with a smile. Experience gain from the night was good, but not enough to push anything over. The [Governance Core] was a sponge that absorbed all actions within the town, hurtling it forward every second. The damn thing would overtake his alchemy and herbalism cores any day.

Tresk was in rare form. As they made their way out of the lab, waving at passing citizens, she talked about their new skill. Even after she devoured her leftover swamp-style biscuits and gravy, she went on. Theo let her ramble on about the skill, even after they ate their fill.

“You could come to the bottom of the [Swamp Dungeon]!” she shouted.

“How would we get out?”

“Damn. You’re right.”

Fenian came to collect his [Hallow Ground] potions, bringing with him a live plant. The [Starbristle Flax] was exactly what Theo needed to get the sails for his future shipping industry going. It would take time to cultivate them high enough to be worth planting at the farm, though.Fenian stopped being standoffish and returned to his normally jovial self. The Elf described the massive profits he’d made so far and promised to remain within the Broken Tusk until the end of the day. That gave Theo time to think of the other things he’d forgotten he needed. Alise and Gwyn should have handled the [Administrator Core] situation, and the citizens were capable of buying whatever they needed for their own businesses.

After meeting with Fenian, and watching Tresk depart for the dungeons, Theo considered his growing list of things he needed to do. He planted the [Starbristle Flax] plant in his garden before finding Aarok by the square, claiming they needed to have a meeting with all the higher-ups. Xol’sa had something dire to portent. The alchemist also needed to sort the butcher situation, a task generated by Gwyn’s swift attention to the food problem. Then there was his new mushroom cave, more [Mana Constructs] for his golem army, upgrading his herbalism core, and more things that didn’t come to his mind immediately.

As the portal in the center of town flickered to life, blurred edges like broken glass with a sheen of impenetrable darkness in the middle, Theo decided Xol’sa came first. Aarok was still rambling when he stepped through the portal, the world spinning for only a moment before he appeared in the wizard’s tower. The wizard himself stood awkwardly on the far side of the room, staring into Zarali’s eyes.

“Awkward,” Zarali said.

“Not really. Let’s discuss whatever you have for me,” Theo said, gesturing to the stairs.

Zarali joined them, always in the know for whatever horrible disaster awaited them. Xol’sa summoned the array of magical symbols on the roof, creating a tangled webwork of angry red symbols mingling with happy blue ones. Theo had a basic understanding of what was going on, but only by instinct. He couldn’t read the symbols or make sense of them, he just got a feel for what they did. Even then, it was vague.

“Look at this,” Zarali said, poking her finger into one symbol.

“No touching,” Xol’sa said, smacking her hand away. “This is an active array.”

From what Theo understood, the symbol in question was part of the formation that dealt with the dungeon system at large. It was the sinew that held the network together; the thing that relayed information. The symbol pulsed between red and blue, slow and with purpose. Unlike the other fluctuations in the array, this seemed deliberate. There was a pattern.

“A signal,” Theo said, boiling down an absurdly complex problem to a simpleton’s estimate.

“He’s so smart,” Zarali said, grinning.

“He has eyes,” Xol’sa said. “The pattern is too constant to be anything other than a message. A signal.”

But that gave way to a problem none of them could solve. From Theo’s understanding, dungeon cores worked in a mysterious way. They were part of a collective that shared information and energy, and might be at least a bit self-aware. They grew in level when raw power was introduced and could generate creatures, money, and items. But that’s where the alchemist’s knowledge on dungeons ended.

“That’s cool,” Theo said, nodding. He studied other parts of the array, finding it to be mostly like he remembered. There were small alterations that could have been anything. But, they were just symbols preserved in memory by his [Wisdom]. “What would it mean if the other dungeons were sending a signal?”

“Anything,” Xol’sa said. “My working theory is that this is a response to the changes we made.”

“Which brings us to a point,” Zarali said. “Mister Feintleaf—”

“Oh god, no,” Theo said, groaning. He thought about how Khahar could think a thousand steps ahead, and how Sulvan could see 10 steps ahead. The alchemist could see two steps ahead without effort. “What did you promise him? Where did he get the core?”

“He doesn’t have it, yet,” Xol’sa said. “I would need to compromise my morals, and some ethical issues, but he promised to put me in contact with a [Priest of Tworngoth].”

“We consider Tworngoth to be an ally of Lord Drogramath,” Zarali said.

Theo ran his hand over his horns for comfort, then switched to stroking the egg. An egg engineered by the Demon Lord Tworngoth. Or was it a Demon Lady? The trustworthy lords and ladies of the Demonic Pantheon could be counted on a single hand. Drogramath the Potioneer, Uz’Xulven the Queen of the Bridge of Shadows, and Tworngoth the Master of Artifices. What was one more Demonic entity in the town?

“Alright,” Theo said. “Tworngoth offers you a core and you take it. Where does that get us?”

Besides another step toward someone else’s plan, Theo thought.

What? Tresk asked.

“Even my thoughts aren’t safe anymore,” Theo said. Somehow, that was comforting.

Nothing.

“What? Well, a legendary [Dungeon Engineer] core would help my current studies,” Xol’sa said. “I already consider myself the foremost expert of dungeons on Iaredin. Not to rival the True Elves in Tarantham, but I’m getting there.”

“Think of a child’s playground. Like the school in town,” Zarali said. “Outsiders are already paying us to hit the dungeons. If we can control the process more closely, we can tailor their experience.”

“You see this as a money-making opportunity?” Theo asked. His hand hadn’t left the egg. The alchemist did enjoy having large sums of money.

“More than that.” Xol’sa swiped through the web of arcane symbols. “I would have better control of this network. We could understand things better.”

Theo nodded, realizing what they brought him there for. Xol’sa wanted permission to do this, which was fine with the alchemist. The planar wizard already handled most of their issues with the dungeon, so that wasn’t a concern. Any accidents that happened was a chance to strengthen their adventurers for whatever disaster Fenian foretold. No matter what, it was a win.

“Go for it,” Theo said with a nod and a smile. “Find me some damn shipwrights while you’re at it. And some sailors.”

“That’s on you. Esteemed mayor,” Xol’sa said, punching Theo in the arm. The Elf was far more playful than normal. He must have been sitting on this for a while.

The group fell into theorization of how the class would work, coming to no solid conclusions. Having scorn the Burning Eye, Theo was happy to welcome another Demonic presence in town. It would have been nice if someone from the Prime Pantheon wanted to sponsor the small town, but no one had approached. The largest presence of that Pantheon was Zaul, who didn’t seem to care what Tresk did. By the end, the alchemist was scolded by both Zarali and Xol’sa. He hadn’t been practicing his mana control, and had put off upgrading his herbalism core yet again.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Theo darted through the portal before they could convince him to upgrade the core right there. He couldn’t miss his meeting with the administration staff.

Town Hall aws buzzing with activity. The spacious atrium was filled with people, talking amongst themselves. Theo found his way to a meeting hall, stuffed with familiar faces. From the administration staff, Alise and Gwyn were seated at the far end of a long wooden table. They had several new people with them that he didn’t recognize. Aarok had the representatives from the adventurer’s guild, including Luras, Zan’kir, Zan’sal and a smattering of others. Azrug sat with Fenian, Salire, and Miana. There were others, but the alchemist’s study of the room was cut short when all eyes snapped to him.

“Packed house,” he said, clearing his throat and taking his seat at the head of the table.

“All other business aside,” Alise started, “we received a letter from Alran Cherman, representative of the Trade Coalition from Rivers and Daub.”

“Fancy title,” Azrug mocked.

Alise stared him down, forcing him to wither under her gaze.

“It’s a proposal of a formal defensive alliance,” Alise said. “Between Broken Tusk, Rivers and Daub, and Gronro-Dir. We’ve already sent our formal acceptance, but we want to hammer out terms.”

“The summit will take place in Rivers and Daub,” Gwyn said, taking the floor ceded by Alise. “Where we will propose that Broken Tusk shall be the seat of power.”

Theo wanted to say something goofy to break the tension, but nothing came. He knew nothing about the people in Gronro-Dir, but what he knew of Rivers said they were unlikely to accept it.

“This is, of course, overreaching,” Alise continued. “We’re hopeful that they’ll offer equal power.”

Thank god.

Alise and Gwyn went back and forth, detailing their strategy. They had already sent spies to Gronro-Dir and Rivers to determine their abilities. Rivers was the biggest problem, with their prolific corruption and support of the merchant class. Gronro-Dir was the real gem in the alliance deal. They were a mix of Toora bear-people, Half-Ogres, and Humans that were hardened by their namesake. Murder Passage held several dungeons that seemed to spew creatures at a rate faster than Broken Tusk. Thanks to this quirk of the area, they were flush with magic items, monster cores, and hardened soldiers.

“They’ll only grow stronger with what we can provide,” Alise said.

“In terms of trade, we’re talking about cores, items, and that’s it for Gronro,” Azrug said, taking the floor for their financial interests. “They desperately need stone, metal, lumber, and motes. Those walls get beat harder than a cursing Half-Ogre child.”

“Gronro will accept, then,” Theo said with a nod.

“Rivers is going to accept. Now that we have a port,” Alise said. “Once we have sailors and ships? Every town from here to Veosta is going to want to enter into a formal agreement.”

They went back and forth for a while before Fenian spoke up.

“I feel as though Theo doesn’t trust me as much lately,” Fenian said.

“I trust you plenty,” Theo said, narrowing his eyes. “Stop being so shady, though.”

“I’ll be as shady as I need to!” Fenian declared, standing for a moment then sitting down again with an awkward cough. “I may have a solution to your boat problem, but it comes with strings.”

No one responded. The Half-Ogres were rowdy at the best of times, but something about a formal meeting calmed them greatly. Everyone just watched and waited until the Elf spoke again.

“The strings come in the way of… Ah, what’s the best way to put this? War criminals,” Fenian said.

That got a laugh from the group.

“Nothing untoward. No murderers or anything like that… The civil war in Tarantham is reaching an end,” Fenian said. “A house I’m quite familiar with is losing. Would you care to know what they’re famous for?”

“Ship building,” Throk grunted. Theo didn’t even see him glowering in the corner.

“A sweet for the sweet Marshling!” Fenian said, producing a square confection from his inventory and tossing it at Throk. He caught it in his mouth, nodding with approval.

“We’d be taking refugees?” Theo asked. “Fine by me.”

The administrative staff voiced their approval, then a wave of agreement spread through those gathered.

“We’re happy to have as many Elves as you think need safe haven,” Alise said.

“I’m glad you mentioned that!” Fenian said, grinning. “I said ‘strings’ not ‘string’.”

Fenian produced a sack from his inventory. He tossed it across the table. It landed with a rattling thud, the items inside shifting. Theo opened the sack, finding exactly 100 [House Seed Cores].

“I hope your 100 Elves enjoy the taste of wolf meat and Zee,” Theo said, narrowing his eyes at the trader.

“They’ll be executed by the empire, so I’m sure they’ll learn to love it!” Fenian said. “Calm down, my dear alchemist. The 250 Elves I’m bringing have all been primed on their new home.”

The color drained from Alise’s face. She stammered. “250?”

“Yes, the civilians are separate from the ship builders. But they’re part of the same deal,” Fenian said.

Theo slumped in his chair, falling into thought. No, 250 new citizens was a great boon. Fenian wouldn’t lie about their willingness to integrate into Broken Tusk society, so they’d make great workers. His mind swirled with the possibilities. Everything he’d heard about the Elves painted them as artisans of the highest quality. A town could only hope to have that many of the people show up at once, even if it put a strain on the town. If the alchemist had learned anything about managing this place, it was that with the system’s features he could expand rapidly.

“We’re happy to take them,” Theo said.

“What’s the split?” Aarok asked. “Manual labor, artisans, adventurers?”

“Uneven split favoring workers,” Fenian said. “Most of House Wavecrest was annihilated. I have what’s left, roughly 260 souls, sequestered in a… Ah, well don’t worry about that.”

“Workers are good,” Azrug said with a nod. “We can always find something for them.”

“Agreed,” Theo said. “Are they shy about working the mine? The farm? The lumber mill?”

“Absolutely not. Despite our completely gorgeous appearance—soft hands and fair faces—the Elves of Tarantham are no strangers to labor.”

“What’s the chance we can feed 250 more mouths?” Theo asked, turning his attention to Alise.

“How soon are they coming?”

“Four days… Make it five days,” Fenian said.

“If we can get the butcher going,” Gwyn said. Her eyes went glassy as she consulted her administrator screen. Theo smiled, happy that they’d sorted the core problem on their own. “We’ll enter a rationing phase.”

But only if they tried to produce all the food themselves. Drogramath blessed the lands with absurd growth rates, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t lean on their allies for help. Theo turned his attention to Azrug and smiled.

“Then I ask the Lord Merchant Azrug,” Theo said, nodding his head to the young man. “Contact whoever you can and work out a deal for the food. Alise and Gwyn, work on zoning these new [House Seed Cores]. Get the information from Fenian on what these people are going to be doing and zone them accordingly—I don’t want an enclave of Elves, Marshlings, Half-Ogres or whatever. I want them to integrate. Also coordinate with our gorgeous trader here to make sure they have the right cores for their jobs. Questions? Comments? Concerns?”

“I think it’s foolish to rely on Rivers,” Throk grunted. “Grow the food here. That’s what I say.”

“The administration’s number for food is based on current [Marsh Wolf] meat rates,” Luras said. “We’re forming a special team of adventurers that collect their corpses to be butchered in town.”

“Broken Tusk was already defined by multiculturalism,” Azrug said, shrugging. “Another culture isn’t going to harm us. I mean… Do they speak Qavelli?”

“Most do,” Fenian conceded. A grin spread across his face. “Taranthian isn’t that hard to learn, though.”

Theo barely had a handle on Qavelli and Bantari, let alone another language. He worried about it for a moment before he realized that Fenian had made a joke. He laughed.

“Oh my!” Fenian said, fanning himself. “What a coincidence! Your refugees will arrive on the exact last day of the season. Hmm, strange.”

Another ripple of laughs spread through the room. The meeting went on for hours after that, everyone working to hammer out details that really didn’t matter. Alise and Gwyn had formed a new group within the administrative staff meant to weed out bad administrators. The Junior Administrators were a group of sheepish youngsters that looked equal parts eager and scared. But when the meeting ended and everyone cleared out of the meeting hall, Alise and Theo remained.

“I just wanted a word,” she said, blocking the door.

Theo had a lot to do today. He hadn’t even touched any alchemy for the day and was itching to do so. But he smiled and sat back down at the table, finding the look on her face worrying.

“Please,” Theo said, gesturing for her to take a seat.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said. She couldn’t look at him.

“For what?”

“When you trusted me to run things for you, I thought I could do it. I really wanted to do it,” Alise said. “But when things slipped through the cracks, I couldn’t forgive myself. I can’t find a way to make it up to you. How can I live with myself if I fail again?”

Theo tried not to laugh. It came out as a stifled chuckle, which drew her attention.

“Allise Plumm…. Lady Administrator Alise, you stumbled. I’m not about to rake someone over the coals because they messed up. If we punished people for messing up, I’d be locked away in a cell.”

“But the food,” Alise started, trailing off.

“You gave the job to someone else because you were busy,” Theo said. “Remember that if the work you assigned falls to you, it ultimately falls to me. Let’s dust our hands off and think about those refugees. You and Gwyn have a better system now. We fail, we learn, we move on. That’s it.”

Alise sat there for some time. After a time, they both stood. She had her eyes locked on the floor, but approached and pulled Theo into a hug. He placed his hand on her back and waited for her to stop, but she didn’t. They just stood there for a long while, letting whatever fear and anxiety she had built up over the weeks fade away with a hug.