Jungle Rocks Dungeon, foot of Mount Gursway, 21st day of Sol, 1661

(Two hours before sunrise)

“So, Brwumph, you happy with our contract now?”

The chief of the goblin tribe shifted from foot to foot. By now Jessica new what that meant, he was feeling really greedy, wondering if he could squeeze something extra, but was also starting to get really nervous of what Jessica could do to him if he crossed some line. He was smart enough to realise that there was a line there, but he wasn’t smart enough to be able to tell where the line was.

Fancy started to allow her frustration to show. The deal was a good one, allowing both parties to get what they wanted. The goblins would get employment, safety, food and an income, while the Dungeon would get a trainable workforce. All the required parts were in the contract, what the Dungeon expected from the Goblins, what the goblins expected from the Dungeon, plus the practical stuff, like the maximum population that the Dungeon would support, standards of accommodation, dispute handling procedures, wage scale, retirement benefits, maternity and paternity leave and health benefits.

Brwumph finally gave in. “Yes, me sign.” Fancy signed on behalf of the Dungeon and the tribe now became (officially) the Jungle Rocks Dungeon Goblin Tribe.

The whole tribe were given a potion. There had never been an issue with the average goblin’s intelligence, but their normal life was so focused on just surviving that the average goblin never had the chance to learn. Plus, poor nutrition had its normal affect in crippling adult skills, intelligence and concentration. The potion reversed all of those effects, allowing the goblin to reach their full potential, although how well they would do depended in the end on the goblin’s willingness to stretch themselves. Most goblins came out the other side of the process with about a ten percent physical, emotional and intellectual improvement.

They had been holding try outs for a number of jobs and they had some forty percent of the tribe earmarked for various types of employment. They now got issued their uniforms and assigned their jobs and shifts. Those who had to have contact with the ‘public’ were given a book to read. This magic book gave them a passable skill in four languages that were used locally and also numeracy.

Some of the musically inclined were rostered on to the huge magical horns that were mounted in the bowels of the Dungeon. These allowed them to add random background noise to the various Dungeon instances. Horn calls, mumbled conversations, spooky noises, odd sounds of footsteps or rocks falling, all of these and more would now grace Jessica’s Dungeon. Jessica’s evil laughter could be heard fading off into the distance…

Others were trained up and would now be handling the food stands, while still others served on watch at the various fortifications that now graced the outside of the dungeon. Then there were a small group that were happy to clean and maintain the ablution blocks. Jessica calculated that the tribe could grow to four times its current size before she would start to run out of jobs, but by then there would be additional levels in her dungeon to soak up the excess.

The final group were the ones that had Fancy laughing till her sides ached. A small groups of the best cooks did nothing else but practiced and honed their craft, especially the baking of bread. Once the third to fifth floors were opened, there would be a special bakery that would bake all of the bread for the whole complex. It would be designed so that the smell of freshly baked bread would permeate the whole area around the rest stop – and also at random other locations throughout the levels.

“That is just cruel. Really, that is just so cruel.”

Jessica replied, “Hey, it’s not like I’m not going to allow the Delvers to purchase from the bakery. They just have to find it first – and the entrance will randomly change each day. Plus the chefs will be able to set their own menus, just to add to the fun. There just has to always be fresh bread.”

Fancy had come up with what the guards would be. All of the Goblins on shift would have a pendent. Touching it (so long as they were on Dungeon ground) would cause two guards to be teleported to where they were. These would be animated suits of armour, which at level 5 were the strongest monsters that Jessica could currently make. The troops on the battlements would be a mixture of elvish archers and hobgoblin soldiers, all dungeon monsters.

By the time that the Dungeon opened at sunrise, there were already over fifty people in the area of the Dungeon entrance and the goblin food carts were doing a roaring trade. All of the food was dungeon generated at the moment, and that would not change for at least another month. Jessica would make more profit off it once the goblins were raising and cooking the food, but it would just take time. Until she and Fancy were confident in the quality and supply, she would continue to just generate the food herself.

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“I am expecting that we will be open continually from now on until we have some maintenance we have to do. Working around having teams in our dungeon for most of the whole day and night, I’m estimating we’ll rake in about 150 Dungeon points a day. This does not allow for deaths. This will allow me to level in about a week.”

“Good, that is better than I expected. We will just have to see how things go.”

There was a disturbance at the entrance about two hours after opening. A group of warriors burst into the entrance area and muscled their way into the Vestibule.

The overseer looked up from his table and said, “Chief Fangslayer, I am sorry for your loss.”

“We are going next.”

“Hmm, and why would that be, Chief Fangslayer?”

“I’m going to tear this Dungeon apart and shatter the crystal for its cowardly killing of my son.”

“Hmm, I think that will be problematic for you in a few ways.”

“And what ways are those?”

“Firstly, that would require me giving my blessing to the change in order, and I am not going to do that. I have investigated the incident thoroughly and the only blame was found with Sarchan Fangslayer himself.”

Mark Fangslayer tried to interrupt, but the Overseer just spoke over the top of him.

“Secondly, the Dungeon has already killed one team of Dungeon Raiders, and while they were not as high a level as you are, I am not authorising one of our main Chiefs to throw his life away.

“Thirdly, there are at least two very experienced people who would feel that they would be required to defend the Dungeon, were you to attack it, either of which would be able to wipe the floor with your party, see second point.”

“I am not scared of some baby Dungeon and its nannies.”

“I am, since one of them is Sun Maiden and the other is Death’s Shadow.”

“As I was there, in the Dungeon Core Room, when the terrible incident occurred, I would also feel that honour would require me to stand with my two friends, were you to attack this Dungeon.”

“Ah, She-Who-Shatters-Bones, I was expecting you to turn up about now.”

“Overseer, I hope all finds you well.”

The overseer nodded back to Marta.

“You were there? Then why did you not stop this insanity!”

“You misunderstand me. I was in the Dungeon Core room, with the Adventurer Evaluation Team, Sun Maiden, Death’s Shadow, the Dungeon Core and her Assistant, as this mess unfolded. The Dungeon was projecting the scenes from all three instances of her Dungeon for us to watch at the time.”

“Your son caused his own death. Both through his actions and also by attacking his second for no valid reason.”

“Where is that traitorous coward? I will see him dead at least.”

“Again, no you will not. He is under my protection. Plus, there is a claim of wergild against your son for the death of another member of his party.”

Mark Fangslayer’s grief finally overcame his anger. “Will you deny me all of my justice, all of my revenge?”

“Dismiss your people and let us sit down like civilised members of The Tribes and seek understanding.” The Overseer sighed. “Chief Fangslayer, there were no winners here.”

There was a pop, and Fancy appeared behind the Overseer.

“Overseer, I am Fancy, the Dungeon Assistant. Perhaps seeing the events would assist Chief Fangslayer to understand what happened?”

The Overseer was surprised by Fancy appearing like that but did not show it. “Would that be possible?”

“Surely.” Fancy fluttered over to a section of wall behind her and opened a concealed door, leading into a meeting room.

The Overseer turned to one of his assistants and said, “Please stand in for me while I mediate this.” Turning to another assistant, he said, “Mophi, please bring Cardon to the room, as well as the Truth Magi.” Then the Overseer led Mark and Marta into the room and closed the doors.

Fancy turned to them and said, “The Dungeon will be listening in for any instructions that you give about the replay. I have set the image to the first time we saw Sachan. Also note, that while he was terribly rude and disrespectful to the Dungeon, she chose not to enact her revenge on him and those with him. What happened was without any direct or indirect influence of the Dungeon. You will find commands like ‘skip forward, skip backward, mute sound, unmute sound, pause projection, stop projection, and so on will all work. If you require more, just ask the Dungeon. Do you require refreshments?”

The Overseer said, ‘Yes, please.”

Fancy nodded and opened a concealed panel on the side of the room, displaying a modified vending machine (no coin slot, just buttons). She pushed the button for the drink twice and levitated the drinks that appeared over to the table.

“Goodbye.” Fancy disappeared with a pop.

Once she was back in the Core Room, Jessica spoke into her mind, *Thanks, Fancy, that was well handled.*

*Well, I was a little worried, as that party was of high enough level that they may have got to our Core. Let us see how this plays out.*

“Cardon has volunteered to submit to a truth spell, in fact he has already been subject to one last night when the scribes recorded everything. He should be here shortly.”

“Can we drop the formality here?”

The Overseer looked at Chief Fangslayer and removed his outer robe. “Certainly, old friend.”

“Mercier, did he really have to die?”

“Once the events started, we were all concerned that this would be the outcome.”

Marta added, “I knew him as a younger boy, one who was respectful and hard working, when did he begin to get so arrogant?”

Mark sighed, “It started a couple of years ago, when he became friends with the sons of Chief…”

*This looks like it is going to work out. I think Marta is turning out to be a good friend.*

Fancy answered, “I agree.”