It was the middle of the night when the incessantly frantic knocking came from the door to my quarters.
“ONE MOMENT PLEASE” I call out across the room making sure to draft a moderately annoyed tone to get the point across that I was not going to be happy when I got to the door. The knocking stopped and I could feel the diminutive presence curl in on itself. Damn servants, always being pests in my presence. I lean out of bed and slip on a pair of trousers followed by a simple tunic before making my way to the entrance and press my best scowl as I throw open the door to be faced with a rather well garbed house elf, he cowers behind the leather binder in his hands as if I were going to cane him.
“You better have a very convincing reason for waking a court wizard at this hour.” I say smoothly making sure to let the bitterness drip from my words like rain.
“Yes, sorry, Head Master Gideon, I have an urgent message from the college, and an emergency summons to to discuss the matter. Once again you have my sincerest apologies. As he says this he steps into the doorway, reaching out with the leather binder which I take and promptly close the door, there was a satisfying thud as the house elf was hit with the solid oak slab. I thumb open the binder as I trudge to my desk. Right on top is the summons by the dean, how Mastidon ever made it to his position is beyond me but I can't outright deny how capable he is in manipulating mana. Removing the summons there is a detailed report of a consultation from a small city named Hoagen near the outskirts of the imperial domain. The date was labeled as only a few days prior, so it must have been transported by courier hawk, skipping the droll and boredom of reading a report like this; I drop the papers to the side and extract the copied scrying medium while preparing a dish.
Everything seems rather normal and admittedly I was beginning to become more and more agitated by the lack of anything so urgent to need to wake me until the miscellaneous trait revealed itself the amorphous blobs of powder suspended on sticks and floating in an invisible container. This was curious and I haven't ever seen it before, but that still shouldn’t have warranted a need for me personally. Next, I hold a small divining rod over the dish to emulate the dungeon artifact and the shape of a human forms, clean lifeless features of the medium powder slowly etching themselves into fine details, showing curious patterns on the skin of the arms much like how the tribal savages in the south decorate themselves with inks and dyes but the pattern was much like elven paintings of vines and Ivy's, twisting and cascading elegantly; however with a decidedly dwarven element utilizing harsh angles and lines. I suppose if races were defined by designs this blocky vine-like pattern would describe humanity quite well, a garish mix sitting between elves and dwarves. My train of thought is interrupted as a realization finally clicks through my tiredness. A human? A dungeon with a HUMAN avatar?
“This can’t be real.” I mutter to myself as I pick up the stack of papers and begin reading through the report. The first half is the findings of the alchemist who performed the consultation, one Erb Deulaney for an unnamed hobbit who was in possession of a medallion for this dungeon. It being a medallion explains the intense clarity in the media but, a hobbit? I’d have expected a human to make a decision as rash as dealing with a dungeon for a contract but not a hobbit. I can already tell this is going to stir up a migraine or three in my relative future so I press on with the report. The next two pages are boring as I'd expected, and apparent in the penmanship, frantic writings of one of the collage archivists, they had even forgotten to sign the report in their haste before running it to the dean. I place everything back into the binder and begin getting dressed for this decidedly urgent meeting.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
As I make my way through the courtyard of the royal holdings the air is crisp and the lack of wind makes everything feel eerily still, as if I were walking through a painting. The only noise to be heard is from the occasional cough or whisper of a guardsman patrolling the ramparts above or the ones standing at the closed portcullis. I head down the East stairs from the courtyard and make my way out of the main estate through a side entrance, ignoring the door guard offering a greeting; I hurry on my way continuing East towards the second tallest building in the capital, the Royal College of Arcane Studies. The streets were devoid of pedestrians and being in the upper ring of the city the lanes were smooth and even, well groomed hedges lined the fences between noble's houses, few of them having faint candlelight glinting out the fine grain windows casting even deeper shadows on the already dark exterior of the artisan made buildings.
Finally making my way out of the housing district I pass an imposing iron barred fence into the college holdings, a great tiered stone courtyard with a single staircase from the bottom to the final tier, each layer a lighter shade of stone until you reach the top where it’s an almost pearlescent white marble that seems to glow with radiance in the moonlight. The towering building is made of the same white stone and blends seamlessly into the foundation it sits on as one homogenous piece, as if it was carved from a massive stone spire. Of course, it was just built with some form of stone magic but this was more than five centuries ago before even I was born and the methods used in its construction were lost sometime shortly after it was finished. I push open the massive stone doors aided by some unseen magical influence that permeates the structure causing the hinges to swivel completely silent and the doors feel as if I’m simply pushing aside a cloth curtain. No matter the number of times I do it I always feel as if even with my power I’m dwarfed by the energy pulsing through the runes scribed across the borders of the door. An immensely powerful spell created by an equally powerful mage, the first dean of the college, some few hundred years ago and after her death the runes never faltered.
Finally pulling myself out of my reverence for the same runes I’ve seen a thousand separate times I’m greeted with the sight of the college lobby in disarray and general chaos. Being the typical sight for most of the week I make my way through the lobby, dodging interns and errant enchanted papers making their way to their recipients until I make it to the receptionist desk located in the center of the floor. An exceptionally old looking elven woman, the same woman who was the receptionist here when I attended the college over eighty years ago; was catching enchanted papers, signing and stamping them before tossing them over her shoulder letting them flutter away in terror of her presence before floating off to their destination.
“Morning Eufrosina.” I say in a generally disinterested tone.
“Archive room 3, your late, Naefrel.” The old elven woman says without looking up from her papers and stamps.
“Charming as ever.” I try to make the tone in my voice flat but as I say this her clouded white eyes fall on me sending a shiver down my spine.
“Archive. Room. 3.” She says again her voice like an icy cloud that redirects foot traffic around the back of her desk as if it would freeze the interns solid if they walked in front of her gaze and even the flapping papers quiver a moment before turning around and finding a nearby pillar or file cart to hide behind. We hold a light glaring match before a thin frown forms on her face for only a moment before she returns to her papers stamping, signing, and throwing them, effectively dismissing me from her presence. I take my leave and head up the staircase to my right still dodging oblivious interns and ornery papers along my path.
Stopping outside the door I can hear arguing and a general sense of unease from within. The dean's gruff voice penetrates the door like it's paper and I'm not the only one stopping to listen. Some students are peeking out from the doorway to the next archive room over. I pretend to not notice them and straighten my collar after flattening out my coat before opening the door to what I'm assuming will be the first migraine for today.
“We can't just march on in with an army of scholars, it's a DUNGEON for peat's sake.” one of the advisors sitting across from the dean says, adjusting his glasses before turning his gaze towards me.
“Headmaster Gideon, maybe you can talk some sense into the dean. He wants to send a cart of scholars with no aid into a dungeon.”
“Now now, don't twist my words, Caverden.” The dean says, while eyeing him with a slightly predatory grin. “I never said with no aid. What I said was I wanted to send a cart of scholars into a dungeon WITH a guide. Preferably the Hobbit noted in the report.”
“Would you two stop your incessant squabbling, you can be heard from down the corridor.” I say, tiredness and no small amount of disdain for this conversation evident in my voice.
“Come now Gideon, don't be like that.” says the dean as he rotates his body towards me from his chair, “It's just, shall we say, an energetic discussion.”
I just glare at him trying my best to burn a hole between his eyes before finally relenting and massaging the bridge of my nose. “Whatever you say Dean Mastidon.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Now, back to the issue at hand.” The dean says while clapping his hands together and leaning his massive form forward propping himself up on the table with his elbows as I take my seat a few chairs away from him. “What is your take on this dungeon Gideon, more specifically the avatar.”
“Well, as unbelievable as it may seem, we all know that scrying medium can’t be faked without a considerable amount of skill, the likes of which I doubt would be found out in the middle of nowhere. Which means we must assume this is indeed real." At this I let my frown deepen while I think more about the human figure I was observing in the medium less than an hour earlier. “I would recommend an expedition of three scholars, one being an archivist, the second a specialist on dungeon studies, and the last a general studies mage; then I'd recommend a retinue consisting of two porters and four armed escorts. We don't know if this… thing is sentient, and if it is we don't know how civil and or hostile it may be.” As I finish talking I look up from the papers I had pulled from my binder. Both of the advisors present are looking over their own papers, and the dean is just looking at me with one of his wolfish grins; instantly making me feel uneasy.
“Well then Headmaster Gideon, it sounds like you have the right idea, I leave the rest to you.”
“Pardon?” I say, hoping this conversation isn't going in the direction I feel it is.
“You seem to have a good grasp on the situation so I'm leaving it in your capable hands.”
“What? I have my duties as the head court wizard in the keep.”
“Yes yes, don't worry about that I'll send over a suitable substitute while you're away.”
“You can't be serious Mastidon. You can't actually believe I'd go out into the… The boonies over some dungeon for goodness sake.”
“Well even with your position as Headmaster in the royal holdings you are still a constituent of the college under the dean.” one of the advisors says, the tone of his voice seems to betray the fact his head isn't really in the conversation and is only now looking up from his papers to find me glaring at him with only subtly contained anger. He freezes like a rabbit then clears his throat and pretends to review some more of the writings in front of him hoping the flimsy parchment might shield him from me.
“Okay, you say you're leaving it in my hands and I take it that means I'm in charge of building my team correct?” I say turning my attention back to the dean.
“That would be correct, and the college will fund any provisions you may be inclined to bring such as food and tools along with a carriage.”
“Excellent.” I say looking back to the advisor “Caverden was it?” the now pale looking man was practically shaking in his seat.
“As a Constituent of the college under ME; you are now part of this little expedition as my archivist.
“I-I, uhm, I mean….” Caverden stammers out clearly not enjoying his new position.
“If I have to go you better damn well expect to come with me after that little quip.” I say before a lolling silence falls over the table. The other two advisors refused to look up from their notebooks to avoid the same fate as their colleague; the dean's grin had widened into a deep toothy smile before he burst out into a hearty laugh.
“Well then Caverden, it seems you should go prepare your things. I'll have new travel cloaks with the college seal sent from the tailors in the next few hours. I want your team on its way shortly after first light. Geoff, Avery, head up to my office. I believe we have a few more matters of importance to go over before the day starts.” With the dismissal, the three advisors hurry out of the archive room and softly close the door behind themselves.
“Is there anything else you need my assistance with?” I say through clenched teeth holding eye contact with the dean.
“Yes actually. Firstly, Take the scroll from the lectern to the right of the door on your way out. It's your orders from the college and as I'm sure you know will let you bypass any travel taxes on your way to the city of interest, Hoagen I believe it was. And second. Do look after Caverden while you're gone. My nephew has a habit of getting into trouble while away, much like you in your younger days, and I think he needs this little bit of life experience, he shouldn't keep himself locked away with nothing but books and parchments while he's still young.”
“Nephew?” I say, looking at him slightly perplexed but not letting it show through, at least not too much. “He seems a little young to be your nephew.”
“He is my sister's granddaughter's son, and referring to someone as your grandnephew just sounds… well It doesn't roll off the tongue well.” he says while rolling his wrist dismissively.
“Fine, I'll keep an eye out for him. And only because you're an old friend, not because you're the dean.” I say finally letting my anger and annoyance fall away leaving only tiredness and a mild apprehension for getting the necessary things packed. I turn and make my way towards the door, stopping to pick up the rolled parchment and unwrapping the cloth tassel keeping it closed. I read through the contents until I reach the bottom where my name is already signed above a few other blank lines still requiring signatures.
“You had planned from the beginning to send me out there, didn't you.” I say and shoot him an unamused glare. Mastidon simply grins and I look back at the parchment. The number of empty lines also matches the number of people I had chosen to send on the trip initially. I open my mouth to ask how exactly he could have predicted how many people I'd have chosen for an expedition but close my mouth as I find the room empty aside from me. Of course he'd use his favorite party trick to leave me before I could ask more questions. Rerolling the scroll and stowing it in an inner coat pocket I make my way back down to the main lobby and pull a request form from the stand next to the reception desk. Eufrosina doesn't pay me any mind as I fill in the page and stamp it as important, placing it in the bin marked ‘pending review’. This does however get a response from the old witch as she flicks her wrist at the bin making the paper spring to life, flapping over to her where she catches it and leans back in her seat to read it. Her clouded eyes were unmoving as she took in the full page at a glance.
“Are you sure you want to put in a general request instead of hand picking some mages?” she says in an unnervingly contemplative tone
“Yes, it's on short notice and I don't have the time to comb through anyone available, I still need to pick up some guards, pack my things, and acquire a few personal provisions for myself, as well as post a job looking for porters at the guild. We are leaving shortly after first light and I trust you can get the required papers filled, notarized, and dispatched before I can even make it back to the keep.” I say matter-of-factly.
“If you say so, just don't get mad at me if you don't like the people you're traveling with.” her mouth opens into a bone chilling smile of pearly white teeth. I shiver and turn towards the door, walking myself out of the college, stopping to turn and look at the towering opalescent structure once more before making my way back towards the royal holdings. The first thing I do when arriving however is stop by the guardhouse to talk to the captain of the guard, I did after all still need to grab a few. The night captain was someone whom I had never actually met before, as I was generally still asleep when the changing of the guard happened he did however ooze an aura of authority much like his daytime counterpart, and if I had to choose I honestly preferred the day captain. She at least doesn’t have a foreboding, brooding feel about her.
“How may I be of service, Headmaster Gideon.” The captain says without looking up from the reports strewn about his desk, the way he said it was in a tone more of a statement than a question. Something about him just felt… off, and I was getting a creeping uneasy feeling up my spine. The same feeling I'd imagine a bee might get when it lands on a web covered flower.
“I am heading an expedition under the orders of the College. I require a small unit of guards.” I retrieve the scroll from my coat and he glances up at me as he takes it in his hand, the white parchment contrasting deeply against his ashen gray skin. His eyes are also dark gray like thunderclouds, but have an unsettling luminous quality that shimmers in response to the dancing flames of the candles on his desk, as if absorbing and simultaneously reflecting all the light that hits them, a quality only found in night orcs
“How many, what skill sets, proficiencies, and how soon do you need them.”
I need four guards, melee fighters would do fine, ranged combat can be handled by the rest of the party which will be a retinue of mages, I don't have a preference for rank as long as one of them is a sergeant to keep the rest in line.” The captain just grunts at this as if amused. “We are scheduled to leave shortly after first light.” He looks up at me from his seat and passes the scroll back after carefully wrapping the tassel to seal it.
“That can be arranged.” He says with a nod as he stands from his desk and pulls a sliver of paper from a stack behind him writing something on it, before turning to me again.
“Where will they be meeting at.” His tone once again was more of a statement than a question.
“Have them report to the college, the receptionist will direct them from there.” I say and he absentmindedly nods while he continues writing on the slip of paper. Walking to a window attached to his office he throws it open and whistles, shortly after a messenger hawk lands on the sill and looks into the room with an inquisitive look only birds can manage before the captain takes it into his free hand and places the now rolled paper into a small cylindrical pouch strapped to the birds chest along with a small key. Then he pulls the window almost closed and pushes open a slat on the inside of the window labeled ‘barracks’ revealing a bright blue board where he shows the bird the color and gives it a small strip of meat. Then opening the window again he gingerly tosses the hawk out the window where it glides for a moment before making a sharp left turn and hurries over a wall. All the while I'm just giving the orc a perplexed look.
“We trained the birds to fly to different buildings by using colored messenger flags. Blue is the barracks, red is the front gate, this guardhouse is green, and the royal guard's commander's office is white. That way we don't have to train a single bird for a single location, we can have fewer total birds and they can all travel to any place we've trained them to, that way if we need to change orders before the bird has come back we can send a second bird after it.”
“Makes sense I suppose.” I say, thinking about what he had said, and the silence begins to turn awkward. “I think I'll take my leave now, I've taken up enough of your time, captain, it's been a pleasure.” The night captain simply nods to me and sits back at his desk, returning to his reports as I walk out the door back into the nighttime air and the unsettling feeling at the base of my spine fades away. On the horizon, I can see the first hints of lighter color returning to the sky so I turn towards the keep to retrieve my things.