Ranus leaned back in his chair. He had contacted the Dungeon during a break in his daily schedule. He found it hard to deal with the intelligence on the other side of the crystal connection. It sounded male, and its words reinforced this. But the way it talked and approached questions was so… strange.
Yes, the note he received with the crystal was accurate.
Ranus wondered if the Dungeon had understood how much was sometimes revealed during their conversations. He thought about it all again, remembering strange things the Dungeon said.
He was sure the Dungeon was concerned about the gathering monsters in the End. He noted the slight concern in his voice when he learned about the monsters. There was also another hint of weariness in it as well.
The warning he received for asking about the source of the twisted was a terrifying moment. In those words, the Dungeon had become severe and frightening. He had spoken of and was dealing with something horrible that had happened. But he admitted that he might fail, which chilled Ranu's soul the most.
Ranus's mind speculated on what that could be. It had not taken long to conclude that it involved the Folly in some way.
That was all interesting and terrifying, but it was when he said, "Your Gods." That had been something that Ranus did not expect. He had learned that the Dungeon was no fan of the Gods, but he had clearly stated he was apart from them. Ranus could understand how the Dungeon could think this.
All within the realms fell under the Gods. Some rejected them but acknowledged their divinity. The Dungeon had drawn a line saying they were not his. This was an open invitation for the Gods to remind the individual of their divine power. But here, nothing had happened, and the Dungeon even went as far as to claim that the Gods had avoided him.
Ranus was deeply unsettled by this. The implications were still revealing themselves to him as he thought about them. He had to turn his thoughts away as he began speculating things he should avoid. The failure of the appearance of a basic agreement notification of their verbal contract was another.
"I need to get a rat, " he said to himself, focusing on this to stop thinking about the other thing. Getting one would be easy, but getting it to the Dungeon would raise more questions from Albrot and Elian that he would avoid.
He continued to seek out things to think about, but the die was cast, and a rebellious thought, a question, was now haunting the back of his mind.
If not his, who were the Dungeon's Gods?
## ## ## ## ##
"Well, I have the Black Rat design now."
I watched Larry strut around the entry room. Below, a group of adventures was fighting on the second floor. The window shutters were open, and much to my surprise, a rough wooded cage flew in through one. Inside was a large black rat. The impact stunned it as the cage landed on the large table in the room. I set Larry in to kill it. Ranus could come through on his side of the deal, it seemed. But then again, this request was easy.
Larry had reached the cage, and the rat had been squeezing through a broken section. The rat tried to escape, but Larry caught it. The fight was short and brutal, with Larry winning and the rat supplying me with a new design. I absorbed the cage and body to hide the evidence.
Larry continued to strut. If I had eyes anymore, I would be rolling them. I had to settle on the mental version.
It had been only yesterday since we spoke. The rat's arrival was novel, but it was the completion of the first deal we had arranged. It hinted at a good working relationship going forward. I had the wire design image of the rat open, and I was planning on upgrading it. The spiders and snakes taught me not to rush and to build on each successful design until I created the minion I wanted.
I still had to finish my shield project. Past the floating design in my sight was one of the internal doors that led to the tower.
"Shame I could not just…."
Then it hit me! I had an option: the doors! The ogre was large, and a regular shield was useless, not even the tower shield I could make. So why not use something else that could act as a shield?
I dismissed the rat's design and focused on the door. Could this work?
The door was thick and reinforced. I looked at it closer. I could make a shield from it by adding handles to one side. The door had studs in it to help protect it from someone hitting the door with a weapon. Could I place an iron band around it to strengthen it further?
The rest of the day was spent thinking about options for a shield made from a door. I tested my thoughts by experimentation in the night and was upbeat by the results I received.
"This could work."
I absorbed the last of the shields I had created. I needed to test more when the ogre was made, but the theory was sound.
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"Tonight, I will have some of the guardians attack them to see how they hold up."
Things were looking good.
## ## ## ## ##
Trixis walked among the people travelling along the street. She carried a basket of laundry with both hands balanced on a hip. Her arms were getting tired as she walked from the laundry to the tavern to which she was returning the linens. She greeted those she knew as she walked. The air was colder today, and many noticed the snowline creeping down the mountains again. Winter would be coming soon.
As she walked, the gravel under her feet crunched. The streets were now covered with it to prevent them from turning to mud. Everyone was happy until they realised they needed shoes with thicker soles to prevent injury. Many grumbled about the gravel now over the dirt and mud.
You could never please some people!
She smiled at this thought as she walked. It was sad but true. The tavern she was delivering the laundry to was ahead. Glad to see it, she made the final push to reach it. As she approached, it was louder than usual.
As she approached the open doorway, two men came tumbling out. She, with a squeak of surprise, jumped aside. The two men hit the ground and traded blows. Others were following or at the windows, cheering on the violence. From what she could see, it was two adventurers beating each other. The fight was now in the street, causing others to avoid it.
"Stand aside for the watch!" A loud voice came from behind the growing crowd of onlookers. This elicited a groan as many were enjoying the spectacle. Two large Watchmen pushed through the crowd.
They quickly looked over the scene and laid into the two with wooded sticks, which excited the crowd as the violence continued. The problem was that the Watchmen had skills that allowed them to pacify the brawlers quickly. The fight was soon over, and the crowd let a groan as it began to disperse. Trixis had a front-row view as the crowd blocked her from leaving.
Now that they were breaking up, she was able to enter the tavern. Many of the crowd returned with her and went back to eating, drinking and gambling. The days were getting shorter, and the adventurers saw the number of people able to enter the Dungeon dropping. This made many irritable as money was getting more challenging again as winter approached.
"Demna!" Trixis called out as she saw the tavern owner.
Looking around, she spotted Trixis. "Trixis! Thank the Gods. You are here with my linins."
She waved Trixis over to the bar she was standing behind. Demna was standing at the end with one of her barmaids. The stout older woman with greying brown hair was thirty years older than her. The tavern was one of the lower-end ones in town, but she ran it with grace and a flirtatious attitude. This hid her sharp mind from most of her patrons. Trixis placed the large basket on the bar.
"Here you go, girl." Demna held out her hand. Trixis took the five coppers from her. They were the coins that came from the Dungeon and represented the week's wages from this employer. Demna never fooled around when it came to money.
"Thank you, Demna. Another fight?" Trixis indicated to the last few, sitting back down as the staff moved around the room.
"Two young bloods again. I swear that it is the same as last year." Demna shook her head at the minor damage caused by the fight. All of her plates and mugs were wooden to prevent damage in fights like her furniture, but they could still break.
"I heard that the team allotment was cut." As Trixis spoke, Demna watched the room. Trixis knew this was not a means of being rude but how Demna worked.
"Yes, I heard that too. The adventurers are not happy." Demna agreed. "So, more fights until the snows come."
"That happened last year. Is Silma around?" Trixis asked.
"Yes, she is in the back." Demna indicated the door leading into the back of the tavern and the kitchen area. Trixis moved through it, greeting the cook and two other staff members in it. She continued to the back door. It was open, and she stepped out.
Silma was sitting on a stool with a large bag of potatoes in front of her. Two buckets sat on either side, one with the peeled skins and the other with water and peeled potatoes. She was peeling using a knife and looked up as Trixis stepped out.
"Good new day, Trixis." She said, not stopping working, her hands moving from memory alone.
"Good new day, Silma." Trixis returned the greeting. "How are you today?"
Silma shrugged. Trixis watched the other woman. She was in her early twenties. Brown hair and eyes, standing a bit shorter than Trixis. She was often the butt of cruel jests as her appearance was not that of a beauty of any type. Trixis had gotten to know the woman and discovered her as a kind soul. She was happy to call her a friend.
"I cannot complain." Trixis heard the sadness in her voice as she spoke. "I left my village because I had no prospects and came here for a better life. I'm not there yet, but I continue to work."
"How soon are you to finish?" Trixis asked.
"Nearly done. These potatoes are the last of my tasks."
"Let me help you, and we will be away."
Trixis took another peeling knife from the kitchen, and the two quickly finished the bag. Demna paid Silma for her work, and they left. The two young women went to the market and walked amongst the stalls. They were excited to see the wares on offer. They bought cheap pies and watched a few entertainers seeking the crowd's favour.
Eventually, they ended up in Trixis's small lodgings with a small bottle of cheap wine. They drank from it, grimacing at the sour taste and laughing at each other's reactions. They were soon not drunk but far from sober.
"Trixis, can I ask you something?" Silma was hesitant as she asked.
"Of course, Silma." Trixis had a feeling about what she was going to ask about.
"I-I… have heard the s-stories of what happened to you in the Dungeon… Are they true?" It took a little time to come out, but she asked the question that most asked Trixis when they learned who she was.
"What have you heard?" The question was simple, but the answers she got seemed to grow over time.
"I-I heard that you were a [Slave] and were taken into the Dungeon. The group you were with were killed, and the Dungeon broke your contract." Not the worst version of the story Trixis had heard.
"Not all the group was killed. One fled, leaving me behind." She took a swig from the bottle before talking again. "I thought I was going to die, but the Dungeon broke the slave collar around my neck and the contract along with it."
"How is that possible?" Silma's eyes had grown wide as Trixis spoke.
"I have only one idea…"
"What is it?" Silma was getting excited about the mystery and danger. Trixis had never uttered these words to another living soul, but the alcohol was loosening her tongue.
"The Dungeon is a God." There, she said it. Silma went white from shock and slapped her hand over her mouth before she could utter anything.
She took a few moments to compose herself before speaking. "Is that not blasphemy?"
"No. The [Slave] path is enforced with divine and magical contact. Only a divine being can even think about breaking it." She spoke with a confidence she rarely showed.
"What does that mean?"
"Well, I have come to….." Trixis explained her beliefs, showing her friend the images she had created. As she spoke, a strange aura surrounded Trixis. The two women talked late into the night. By dawn, another believer was born.