《Dungeon Architect》


 [0.1] = The Pro-Epilogue =

    Swen wiped the black goop off his sword, wishing he''d left it by the blacksmith yesterday for some proper sharpening. The undead generally don''t bleed, so he''d put it off as unnecessary. However, so far what his party had encountered had been mostly ghouls: small yet grotesque humanoids that obsessed over dead stuff. They bore a disturbing resemblance to premature babies, and Swen was thankful their bodies decayed so rapidly upon death. He grimaced as he checked the edge for cracks.


    "Ye know, if ye''d listened to yer barmates more, ye might have known better than to come in here with a blunt blade." That was Gary, who was both the oldest member and newest addition to the party. He was somewhat abrasive and had a shady background, but in the end he was always reliable. "I''m afraid his skull''s so thick, even what reaches his ears has no hope of sinking in." came a light chuckle. Like most female adventures, Melaine could more more than handle herself, but Swen still couldn''t help getting in the way of any danger near her. Well, that was his job as the meat shield anyways, so it worked out in the end. "Shouldn''t the ghouls be bringing in plenty of ''parts'', though?" Teja was only 14, but had a good head on his shoulders. Swen had already resolved to get him into a university if there was ever a chance.


    The four finished checking the room they were in for secrets or valuables, then continued their delve into the dungeon''s depths. Swen took the lead followed by Melaine, while Gary served as rearguard. Their corridor took them to a major junction with several others, as well as a large and ornate doorway. "This must be it," Teja cried, "the entrance to the next stage!" "Hold on young''n, lemme check fer traps first." Gary held Teja back as he switched places with the leading pair.


    "Hrmph, it''s less of a door than a seal... prob''ly''ll need to bash it down..." After checking the frame for suspicious gaps, he took out a drill and carefully made a small hole about waist-high, then quickly covered it with a tiny cup with a lens for a bottom, which he then looked through. "I can see the wall and a bit a''floor on th''other side, but the light in there''s damn eerie. I think I see some ghouls in there too. Pass me that flame now, boy." He took out a miniature oil lamp with an odd smell to it, and put it against the hole after lighting it. It burned with a pale blue light. "Air should be good." He finished up with lightly tapping of the door in various places and listening to the sounds that were made. "Unless there''s something magic, we''re in the clear." The party then stacked up for entry.


    With his sword sheathed, Swen put all his weight behind his trollhide shield and rammed the door. It burst into splinters almost as if made of glass. Two crude spears and an arrow embedded themselves into the shield''s surface. A few ghouls were crushed Swen''s weight, but many more were slaughtered by Melaine who followed in his wake. She wielded her halberd with a fluid motion that she''d learned from a traveller, and the two had practiced this tactic many times before. But she wasn''t prepared when a new foe appeared without warning behind her.


    It looked human and was dressed in fine (if somewhat decayed) cloth, but its skin had an unnatural pallor to it, and its hair and nails were long and unkempt. It grabbed Melaine and tried to take a bite out of her, but was interrupted by a dagger in its chest. The creature reeled and turned towards towards the would-be rescuer with a threatening stance, and then a small iron club crashed into its gaping jaw.


    Gary spat at the spasming corpse. "Damn deadite." "I think that was a vampire." interjected Teja, whose job in this situation was keeping the doorway clear in case a hasty retreat was needed. "Like I care?" When the room was cleared of the ghouls and a few more vampires, he examined the writing on the wall adjacent to one of the crypts which had recently been broken open from the inside. "It says here that they were bound for ''giving villainous counsel and leading their lord astray''." "So, they were turned into vampires for that?" asked Swen, at which point Melaine muttered: "Or maybe that was just their nature all along..." No one responded to that.


    Unlike the ghouls, the vampire''s corpses didn''t instantly dissolve, and Teja got to work looting. Unfortunately they lacked any jewelry, but he still cut off a bolt or two of the cloth they were wearing. It was probably cursed, but that didn''t mean there wouldn''t be someone who wanted it... It was wise not to take too much, though. The door opposite the entrance was the only way out, and Gary spent a bit less time checking it for traps. It opened to a dark stairway leading down. But at the bottom they were greeted by an impossible sight.


    The ceiling and all walls save the one they come out of were completely out of sight, and the room seemed to stretch on forever - although in practical terms, darkness totally engulfed anything more than ten meters out. The majority of what could be seen was turbulent black water, and a narrow path leading along the wall (or should it be cliff?) to an identical doorway. But on the far shore could be seen several indistinct figures, almost like living shadows. The slowly wandered about as if lost in despair, and emitted an aura of hopelessness. "The Land of the Dead," whispered Gary, "We''d best make haste. Don''t touch the water." The party nervously shuffled along the wall in their usual file.


    Suddenly, Swen froze in his stride, bringing to a halt his party members who were behind him. "No... It can''t be....." he muttered under his breath. The others followed his gaze to a certain spot upon the far bank. There was a shade there different from the rest, smaller yet more distinct, with an aura that somehow seemed closer to light than shadow. Its figure was too hazy for any to recognize, except... "Elsha! Is that really you?!" With Swen''s shout, the others could see the resemblance of a young girl in the apparition. She remain unmoved upon the water''s edge, gazing back upon Swen with an unreadable expression.


    Elsha was the original reason Swen had become an adventurer. She contracted a serious illness, so he had set off on his own to collect enough money to hire a doctor. Unfortunately, being young and inexperienced, he not only failed miserably, but nearly died himself in the process. "Elsha! Hold on, big brother is coming for you!" Swen suddenly tossed aside his shield and moved away from the wall, apparently intent on fording the river to reach his sister''s spirit. "Swen!" The others shouted in unison. "Ye twice-damned fool! That obviously ain''t who ye think it is!" Gary struggled to move past Teja without knocking the latter into the waters, in order to assist Melaine who was only barely managing to keep Swen from plunging himself in.


    "Swen, if you cross this river, you''ll never be able to return." Melaine spoke in a soft voice. "Would your sister really want that?" Swen ceased his frantic attempts to break free of her grasp, and reluctantly turned his head back towards his companions. All three showed worried expressions on their faces. "N- No..." Swen whined, as he quietly began to shed tears. Melaine shifted to a more gentle embace and whispered to him. "It''s okay, we''re still here, we aren''t leaving you." Swen called out to the other side one last time: "Elsha! I promise I won''t let it happen to them too! I''ll see you again one day!" With that, the figure of his sister faded away.


    Gary grabbed Melaine''s shoulder for her attention. He said nothing, but motioned towards the exit. He then took point, while Teja clumsily carried the shield and halberd of the grieving Swen and consoling Melaine. There was another set of stairs leading up to a small landing with a circular slab of stone set in a track on the floor; obviously a door that needed to be rolled aside to open. A Statue of a praying, or perhaps mourning maiden abutted each wall. The group rested there for a few minutes to recover from their emotional ordeal.


    It took the combined efforts of both Swen and Gary to shift the stone door, while Melaine stood ready to impale anything that might jump out from behind it. The room beyond was imposing, built similar to the interior of a gothic cathedral with two aisles and a nave. Unlike previous rooms, there was a notable absence of the malign aura that typically provides basic visibility in a dungeon, so Swen lit a torch off Teja''s lantern. The party immediately noticed a suit of platemail in tattered robes kneeling at an altar at the center of the room beneath a glittering dome.


    They approached warily, but when prodded it fell over to reveal but a skeleton inside. Gary began stripping the armor down for transport; it was quite the haul and would probably pay inn fees for weeks if it wasn''t cursed too badly. Meanwhile, Teja picked up a book that was on the floor nearby, almost dropping it when a few fingerbones fell out. Although it was nearly unreadable, he could tell it was an old scripture, once held open to a passage regarding the importance of keeping oaths. "There''s a note here in the margin. It says, ''loyalty before honor''." It was often important to pay attention to clues in a dungeon, to avoid traps and solve puzzles.


    Clues such as the faded murals on the chamber''s walls. Though there was much water damage, several parts could still be made out. The common element seemed to be a nobleman wearing a crown, although how he was depicted changed between panels. In one, he was given a halo like a saint while many knights and peasants kneeled before him, but in another his brilliance had diminished as he listened to the whispers of several ugly men and even a demon. A third panel saw it replaced by an equally imposing aura of darkness while all but one the former knights approached with drawn swords. In the final panel, the remaining knight carried his corpse towards what was unmistakably the entrance of this dungeon. Swen voiced what they all were thinking: "If the armor was the last knight, then that means..."


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    There was no more ignoring it. What the knight had been kneeling at had been revealed upon closer inspection to be a sarcophagus. But that disturbing it bore a terrible risk went without saying. However, the party had already pillaged everything else in the room, finding some grave goods like silk or talismans carved from stone, and one silver chalice from which the knight had probably drank from. They were approaching the limit of what they could carry easily, but they also knew that they were now deeper than anyone else had gone before. A short council later, and the three decision-makers agreed to take one last risk before heading back.


    The sarcophagus'' lid was massive, probably intended to be carried by no less than eight porters, and had to be lifted nearly ten centimeters before it could be pushed aside. Thankfully Swen had learned a trick for getting his body to exert extreme force for a very short period of time, and managed to get the lid off the lip. From there, the other two used ropes, hooks, and leverage to shift it the rest of the way off while Swen took a brief moment to cool down. From inside the now-open sarcophagus came a soft blue light and the reek of ozone.


    The inside was lined with enamel, and a moat of quicksilver enveloped the coffin - itself made of steel, but with a transparent top. The cadaver was extremely well preserved, partially mummified and dressed in ornate battle armor. There was a deep gash in the crowned helm and skull beneath it, leaving little doubt as to the cause of death. But perhaps the most striking feature was the gemstone upon the former prince''s chest. It was nearly the size of a hen''s egg, and dichromatically dark green with a bit of brown near the edges. Thin strands spread from it throughout the coffin like a spiderweb, cocooning the occupant in its silky sheen. But the very air about these strands seemed to glow brightly, while the main gem itself pulsed with light from within.


    Suddenly, a wave a crimson issued from the gem and spread throughout the room. In a sadly less surprising turn of events, the corpse''s eyes flew open. From its mouth came an unholy screeching sound so hideous, a claim that it could kill through sound alone would not be taken lightly. Gary suddenly yanked Teja, who had been the closest, backwards. Something fast and sharp moved through the air where he had just been a split-second ago.


    Above the coffin, not as much seen as it was perceived, an apparition. It seemed to be a man, but partially transparent such that its bones and to a lesser extent organs were visible. None of the witnesses knew what an x-ray was, but if they did they would have described it as such. It gave off the feeling of something that only existed when one was looking for it, like seeing shapes in the clouds or the moon, but the sword it wielded was all too real.


    "Crap! This is no good!" Swen was thankful he had been holding a torch instead of his sword, for the latter would have been useless against this foe. But while the figment avoided the light source, it swiftly skirted the shadows and attacked from another angle. To make matters worse, the torch was already old and threatened to extinguish with every motion. Melaine immediately took charge of the situation. "Withdraw!" But it was too late; the muffled screaming (which was still going on) had obscured the sound of the door being rolled back into position. She turned back just in time to catch a glimpse of one of the maiden statues in motion. And then all hope of retreat was cut off.


    "Damn child, ye forgot the door again!" So Gary griped, but he knew full well that Teja probably wouldn''t have been able to do anything to stop it. He was merely venting his fears. Odd shadows kept coalescing in the corners of his vision, and though they dispersed when he swung at them, the lack of resistance left nagging doubts in his mind. Worst of all, he was starting to recognize them as bits of his past that he''d rather forget.


    Meanwhile, Swen endured in great pain as his already overexerted body felt the pummelling through his shield. The sword was well-made and well-honed, and left deep gashes in the surface without getting stuck. Swen''s biggest concern was that he''d soon become too tired to dodge a thrust with enough force behind it to penetrate. But so far Melaine had managed to deflect the most threatening blows. There was even a glimmer of hope when the spirit felt the need to block one of her counterattacks, even if that might have been residual instinct. However, both knew that a battle of attrition was heavily in the opponent''s favor. As usual, Melaine had a better grasp of what had to be done. "We must cut off the source of its power. To the coffin." Their enemy redoubled its efforts to stop them.


    "Wait, don''t!" Suddenly, Teja interrupted her. He was the only one not fighting so far, not because he was afraid (though he''d be lying if he said he wasn''t) but because he''d only get in the way if he tried. Usually, he''d take potshots with a miniature crossbow, but that wouldn''t help this time. In exchange he was given more time to assess the situation, and reached an important conclusion: "We aren''t fighting the Prince, but the Knight!" In both the mural and the coffin, the prince had not a sword but a scepter. On the other hand, on the body they had just looted both sword and scabbard were missing.


    Melaine shuddered when she realized that she might have been about to release something far more terrible than what they were already facing. She could still hear that thing screaming under the glass. "What can we do to stop the knight, then?" "I''m not sure..." It was at that time Swen decided to try something different, and took a deep breath. "Loyal Knight! We swear to disturb your lord no further if we may leave in peace!" To his amazement, the knight''s ghost actually paused its attacks. Seeing this, Gary nervously chimed in. "We''ll- we''ll even warn others not to bug you two."


    There was no sign if Gary''s additional words had any effect, but after a few moments the knight shifted to a less aggressive posture and pointed to an innocuous spot on the wall. There was an audible click, and sure enough the section pointed to slid back when pushed. The party wasted no time in rushing through. Swen, being the last, bowed his head before leaving. It may have been his imagination, but the coffin''s wail seemed to have shifted from rage to grief at some point. Gary slammed the door shut behind him, and there was silence.


    After a short tunnel, Swen stepped into a room different from all that had come before it. ''Abnormally generic'' would be the only way to describe it. As soon as he crossed the threshold, two large flames appeared in copper bowls with no apparent fuel source. In the center of the room was a large chest, and behind that a stone plinth. While the others checked the chest, Swen picked up one of four small disks which sat upon the plinth. It was exceptionally heavy for its size, made of a dark metal with gold inlay of a crown with a sword next to and beneath it. While the crown was broken, the sword was whole. He flipped the token over, and could only stare as text began to appear before his eyes.


    Swen Geyer


    Conquerer #1 of the


    Grave of the Fallen Prince


    Rank: Veteran


    Grade: Mortal


    Par: 1 Day


    He was about call the others over when Melaine called to him. "Here''s your share of the treasure." She held out a bracelet with jade beads of various colors. Swen accepted it with a raised eyebrow, and glanced back at the others. Gary was inspecting a fine knife, while Teja was making a charcoal rubbing with some paper he''d found. "What did you get?" "Oh, just another of those bracelets..." True to form, Swenn noticed neither her blushing nor the shortsword hidden behind her back. The chest also contained a smaller box with ingots of gold, silver, and high-grade tin in it. The sudden and drastic reversal of fortunes left everyone relieved to the point of hysteria, and it was some time until one of them noticed the obvious problem: "Wait a sec... How are we getting this home?" But before what Gary said could sink in, bright light began to shine through the cracks in the room, and the world disappeared in a flash.


    That night, the men celebrated their triumph in the tavern. Much of what they''d taken from corpses had vanished when they were teleported out, but the treasures in the final room more than made up for it. The other patrons were regaled with their tales of horror from the dungeon, although many scoffed even at the parts they didn''t make up. To keep him out of trouble, Teja was put in the care of a travelling wise man, whom he was now showing his his rubbing. "This symbol was on the side of the chest. That''s the brand of the Architect, right? The one which makes the greatest of dungeons?" The sage smiled as he nodded. It pleased him to know that even in a backwater realm such as this, the quality of his work was well known.

 [1.1] + AWAKENING + (v2.0)

    An eerie silence had descended. Normally there was some background ambiance inside the dungeon, be it the slow *drip... drip* of water, the rumble of unknown machinery, or even just an occasional distant scream. But now there was not even the shuffling or skittering of the denizens, for the invaders had slaughtered them all. Not a single monster remained between the 49th level of this branch and the surface, all had perished - save for one tiny minion.


    The pitiful creature stood in the pile of gore that was once the great heroes who had led the expedition so deep, but it did not gloat triumphantly over the corpses as should be expected. Instead, it covered its head and curled up into a ball, as if trying to shut out the world.


    The world didn''t care. If anything, it seemed to be mocking the poor thing. If any had lived to observe what happened next, the voice with no apparent source could only have confirmed such suspicions.


    {Now, that was a waste, don''t you think? Oh wait, you really don''t know. Bwahahaha!} There was no good will in that laugh, but only the slightest hint of frustration. {I would say I was disappointed in you, but I was the one who appointed you on a whim.} The few walls still intact seemed to resonate with its sigh.


    {Of course, I still have to fire you, throw you to the dogs, leave you out in the cold, etcetera. Oh, don''t be a crybaby about it; I hate whining, that''s why I delegate the torturing duties. Nothing personal, these are just the rules around here; even if I did write them myself, there''s no hard feelings.}


    {Since I am such a connoisseur of ironic justice, I know when not to overuse a trope. I dropped the last fellow into the hellhound pit. Perhaps the frost giant''s plain, then? ...No, I don''t feel like dragging it out this time.} The minion could only weep in silence as its master milled over what punishment to mete out. {Okay, time to give you the boot. Not literally, of course. That would be quick, but there''s enough of a mess as it is.}


    Reality began to fade like a bad dream for the victim, though with its eyes shut and ears covered only the otherwise unyielding stench of blood gave this away. {Perhaps, if you''re lucky, you might incarnate a janitorial position somewhere... But don''t hold out hope. Not that you''ll be able to without a proper existence.....}


    And that voice was the last experience the former minion had in this world.


    ---------


    ---------


    It moved. It toiled. It scraped, it shaped, it burrowed and built. It didn''t think about its actions, it thought. And yet for some reason, or some reasons, it should. It perceived its kin, wet they were not like it. It dropped its tool, searching for something different. It found something different, yet similar to itself in the way the kin weren''t. It called out to it. "Who are you?"


    {...Who? You?} The voice came from everywhere, yet nowhere. The voice was like yet unlike a voice from before. Before? That should be a foreign concept to it, but it couldn''t remember. It ignored the question with no answer. Of the two, it seemed to be the one understanding things first. "I said you, not me." {I, You, Me... You are You, I am Me!} A cry of triumph. The voice appeared to have just now achieved self-awareness. Also, another strange yet familiar concept: that sounded... ''Cute''.


    "But who are you? Moreover, what are you?" He realized what he was talking to looked like a pebble. No, not just a pebble, a gemstone. A dark blue opal glittering at the bottom of a shallow stream. Underground, with no light source. {I am Me. Dungeon.} "Dungeon? Is that your name or what you are?" {No.} "Didn''t you just say you were one?" {Yes.}


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    He sat down, puzzled. Why was he grabbing his chin all of a sudden? "So you are a dungeon, but a dungeon is not what you are..." {Yes.} "Hmm, so you both are and are not..." Another unknown and unbidden concept, but this time it might be of some use. "I shall call you Schr?dinger. Wait, no," he shook his head and corrected himself, "I shall call you Kat." When had he determined their genders?


    {Kat... I am Kat now!} She seemed pleased with her name. {You: name, what are?} "I... Don''t know." He took note of his own appearance for the first time. His skin was light grey with a hint of blue, its arms long and thin. His ears, nose, and eyes were all large, but not disproportionately so. His head was shaped like a crushed sphere, with a ring of thin hair like a balding monk. He was somewhere around a hundred Kats tall, but suspected that still didn''t account to much. Realizing that even his appearance differed from that of his ex-kin, who were vomit-brown with smaller egg-shaped skulls, he wondered if perhaps he''d been different all along.


    {You are Minion. Servant, worker, expression of dungeon will. But formerly? Different now.} The minion looked at Kat and raised an eyebrow. "If you knew, why ask?" No answer. "Perhaps you were trying to be polite?" {Maybe...} Her voice was far more timid now, and he realized he could never be afraid of someone like her. Why was that a possibility to begin with? He scratched his head in confusion.


    "Um, so... Why don''t you give me a name now?" {Minion!} That was far too enthusiastic of a response. "No, I don''t want to be called something demeaning." {...Minion Master?} "You can do better than that. Besides, if anyone is the master, it''s you." {Helper?} This one took some pondering. "Not bad as a title, but how about a proper name?" {...Shrew-ding-air?} That was the most hesitant response yet, and he-who-has-yet-to-be-named couldn''t stifle a chuckle.


    {Kat gives up.} She seemed frustrated. "All right, I''ll decide for myself..." He waited, and sure enough another scrap appeared in his mind eventually. It might be a bit pretentious, but he liked it. "I want be Archimedes."


    {Arky-Minion!} "What? No, it''s Archimedes!" {But Archie-me-dees got to choose Kat''s name, now Kat wants name chosen by Kat!} She was throwing a tantrum like a little girl. Hmm? If that wasn''t the weirdest idea yet... {Kat wants to know!} It appears he was muttering to himself. "No, ju-" He was about to change the subject when he lost control of his voice, and the rest of his body for that matter. [Archimedes''s head is an interesting place...] He suddenly received an expanded awareness of his surroundings, not much but enough. This was all too familiar to him.


    [Arky-] The thoughts suddenly cut off, and Arc''s internal screaming became external. His body suddenly fell over and curled up on the ground, clutching his head. One of the other minions dropped what it was doing and rushed over. Its eyes were glowing blue, the same as Kat''s gem body. {Is Arky-meads all right?} The minion''s face wasn''t very good with expressions, but he was terrible at reading those anyways.


    Arc recovered slowly. This time was nothing like last time. Last time? He was suddenly thankful he could not remember. At some point Kat had lost control of the minion and it scampered off. "I''m okay, Kat. Just... Please don''t do that again without asking first." {...Kat won''t. Promise.} Her response was weak; it seemed the ordeal had drained quite a bit of energy from her. "One more thing." {Yes, Arky-Middles?} "Just call me ''Arc''." {Okay, Arc.}

 [1.2] = Recovering the Core =

    "Kat, can I pick you up out of the water? I''m afraid the current might sweep you away." Kat, the tiny sentient opal, was sitting in the bottom of a channel at the moment. It looked artificial, as did most of the surroundings, but that may have been the work of the minions - who had recently vanished from sight, come to think of it. {Don''t want. Scary.} She still sounded sickly. "But if you get swept away, who knows where you''ll end up? I might not be able to follow you." {...Careful, Arc.}


    Arc stepped into the water, which went above his waist. The lack of clothes to get wet was a mixed blessing, for it also meant a lack of pockets he could cradle Kat in. Bracing against the flow, he bent over and picked Kat up with his fingers. There was just the slightest feeling of some sort of connection being severed. {Hold tight.} "I won''t block your vision, will I?" {Kat not see, sense. But Arc not obstacle.} Arc clenched her in his fist as he climbed out.


    "Now where did those minions get off to?" {Unknown. Low power, domain lost. Minions revert to instinct.} From the sound of it, she wouldn''t be able to directly control the minions again even if they found them, but it was still something to do. Afterwards, they could figure out what happens next. There were only two directions to go in the tunnel, so he arbitrarily picked one.


    Walking upstream, Arc worried about Kat''s health. Dungeons weren''t supposed to move, were they? He might be worsening her condition by carrying her around like this. He was about to ask Kat what she needed to get stronger, when she spoke first. {Wait. Something important nearby... Here.} Arc was suddenly acutely aware of a certain spot in the channel, but now Kat''s voice was fainter than ever. Arc prayed that whatever this important thing was, it was worth it.


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    He found it amidst a pile of small rocks and other debris: a silver figurine of a woman with a shawl. She was swaddling... an empty space. "This is..." {Mine.} Arc knew what needed to be done. He took Kat, and slid her into the gap. There was still a lot of room left; had Kat shrunk recently? Arc was worried about her falling back out, but then she shone a bit brighter and grew some sort of a fine silk mesh that would keep her in place. {Thank you, Arky!} She sounded a lot better than before.


    "And you''re okay now, Kat?" {Kat''s place, domain restored. Stored energy, proper flow.} "How did you get separated?" {Falling... Kat doesn''t remember.} Arc nodded, knowing the feeling well. "There''s a hole in the ceiling. Maybe you were dropped from there and got knocked loose?" {...Maybe?} The figurine had a half-rotten but still usable string on it, and Arc tied it around his neck. It was really heavy; there was no way he could be comfortable like this. He adjusted the string to make a proper harness that distributed the load across his shoulders. Much better.

 [1.3] = Discovering the Surface =

    "And you''re sure it''s this way?" {Yes. Three minions above, sensed. Fastest path, here.} But no matter how he looked, Arc only saw a narrow pipe lined with traces of excrement. "Can''t you do anything about this?" {But Arc told Kat not to exert herself.} That pout was unfair, but true. Kat had stabilized for now, but Arc still didn''t understand where she got her energy from. Until he did, he didn''t want to risk her spending too much of it at once again.


    Arc sighed, resigning to fate. "Fine, then. Let''s go." He obediently began to climb through the filth. Thankfully the pipe was made of many overlapping ceramic segments, many of which sported large cracks, giving him plenty of handholds. But Arc discovered his fingers and toes stuck to the walls decently even without those. It took less than a minute to scamper up the pipe, which terminated in a tall but narrow room with walls made of wood. Faint light issued from the cracks, the first light Arc had seen that came from a source other than Kat''s body.


    The wooden latch was high enough that Arc would have to jump to reach it, but thankfully it didn''t come to that. The door swung open with only a bit of friction the hinges. On the other side, an astounding sight... There were no walls or ceiling. Above were countless tiny lights, as well as one big light that was bright enough to illuminate all the surroundings.


    {Arc, Kat''s scared...} It probably couldn''t be helped, dungeons are supposed to be indoors and underground after all. "We need to find those minions, right? I''ll make sure to protect you." Nevertheless, he decided to keep a roof above his head as much as possible for Kat''s sake. There were several massive constructions nearby, some emitting strange lights and/or sounds. Arc dashed to the nearest dark and silent one. The inside reeked of beasts and their waste products.


    "Which direction?" Arc lowered his voice to a whisper. {Minions, coming this way.} They did not have to wait very long. Around the corner came a minion carrying something large and... A pair of self-ambulatory trousers? No, there was a suspiciously minion-shaped lump in each leg. The three were were moving swiftly in an erratic pattern best described as a ''scarper''. A few seconds later, it was obvious what they were fleeing from.


    A half-naked, light-brownish-pale-pinkish giant had appeared. It was three, maybe even four minions tall, with limbs as thick as one''s torso. Its bellows were deep and loud. It seemed its size made it clumsy as it tripped rounding the bend, but that didn''t make it any less terrifying.


    "In here!" Arc called to the minions and ushered them into the building. Their leader ditched his load and followed Arc up to the rafters, the pair dragging the others literally by the seat of their pants.


    The giant barged in and started ransacking the place. He had knocked over a water barrel and was digging through some urine-soaked straw when other, more fully-clothed giants arrived. Two weren''t enough to restrain him, but the third managed to knock him over and held him on the ground until he submitted.


    A tiny wisp of red light played along the edges of Kat''s medallion, quickly being sucked into her gem and absorbed. It was faint enough to be hard to see even in pitch darkness, and not even Arc noticed it. All eyes were fixed upon the berserking streaker.


    The other giants dragged the first away, but none of the minions were willing to leave their perch just yet. The pair of pants suddenly fell, making a bit of noise as they struggled to move in different directions. When this strange dance failed to attract any more giants, their fearless leader grinned and jumped after them. Wait - he didn''t knock them over on purpose to test the waters, did he?


    He got busy wrangling the pantaloons while Arc descended with more caution. Arc heard muffled (yet suspiciously hollow-sounding) ''clonk'', but was too busy visually checking his footholds to look. When he reached the bottom, the pants were collapsed such that its occupant''s upper bodies where sticking out through the waist. The leader was delivering a vicious noogie with each hand as he berated them.


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    "Gubbins an silkies unwatched snatchonly! Blingies plus! Slinkerkin lootmax, scarpmin!" ...Arc was barely able to follow that. Barely.


    There''d been no time to think about it before, but the head minion was wearing some garments which probably did not belong to the male giant in a fashion akin to a toga. The material was lacy and probably could have been considered white in the past.


    Now that Arc was looking closer, did these minions seem bigger than before? Slightly redder too. It was probably a trick of the light. After all, before the only source of illumination was Kat''s aura, which is faint and blue-tinged. Up here, even the moonlight reflected off the ground and buildings drowned it out.


    When Pantimus the Perverted had finished taking the phrase ''rubbing in the lesson'' a bit too literally, he turned back towards Arc. "Nownow, who youis? Gabquick er, wat ken if!" Instinct warned of an implied threat in that. It was warning Arc not to act like a equal or better, and just fall in line like an obedient little grunt. (Well, in mob at least.)


    Arc was flustered; the hormones he felt were both strong and foreign. Conflicting urges to hide and to obey drowned out his ability to think clearly. Talking wasn''t his strongest suit to begin with, but at least with Kat he didn''t feel like he was about to panic.


    "I- I am-" "Wat? Now gabright." Any rebuttal Arc may have been formulating was lost at the sudden interjection. At least this time instinct provided some help. "Arc! Arc is!" But not much. "Arkywho? Fancykin youis thinken, wat?" Arc had hopelessly lost the social conflict, and began involuntarily glancing at the exit. "Nono, unaway getten youis." Pantimus scowled, but the Pantaloons looked giddy - like kids at a circus just before an act.


    {STOP!} Kat''s voice seemed to shake the earth itself. {Arc is Kat''s. Kat is Master.} Her glow intensified for a moment, and the belligerent minion was briefly haloed by a pink fog.


    His expression immediately changed. "Master! New Master!" He began to make exaggerated, but not insincere bowing gestures in Kat''s direction (which was only coincidentally the same as Arc''s). The others were disappointed in the lack of a show and began to gripe, but after their heads were forced to the ground they started playing along.


    "Tribute for Master!" Pantimus recovered his earlier load and presented it to Kat in a semi-formal manner. A faint light played over it for a minute. {Scanning... Object identified as Bread; composition 40% wheat, 40% rye, 10% oats, 10% other. Classifications: consumable, food, nutrition. Instance condition at ~80%.} Indeed, it was a partially-eaten loaf of black bread. But what was up with that monotone?


    "Orders, Master?" The minions looked eager: Arc supposed he better explain the situation. "We-" {Seeking, gathering minions lost. Back underground.} The location of the pipe Arc had emerged from pinged in the heads of all four. "Master, we obey!"


    "Runt carrystuff." The bread was unceremoniously shoved in Arc''s hands before the other minions raced for the sewer ingress. {Sorry, Arc. Kat had to use power.} Her voice was back to its usual softness, and Arc whispered back. "No, it''s okay. You... saved me back there." {Kat saved Arky-minion?} Hesitation. "...Yes."


    There were no words cute enough to describe Kat''s reaction.

 [1.4] = A Shepherd of Minions =

    It had been many hours since Arc and Kat''s awakening. They''d managed to find half a dozen additional minions in the tunnels beneath the giants'' town. According to Kat, {Additional Minions still abroad. Yet even if found, will be unable to control.}


    It turned out that Pantimus the Perverted and his Pantaloons were indeed slightly bulkier and more reddish than the average, possibly due to their exposure to the surface. The latter had managed to burst a seam during their constant attempts to go in opposite directions, and thus were no longer joined at the hip.


    Some of the other minions had undertaken antics of their own.


    The first, was found carving a flatish piece of grey stone with a harder rock, but refused to leave his "importantmost rocksies" even after Pantimus insistently shook Kat in front of him. (And by extension, Arc. After this incident, it was decided a temporary transfer of Kat-carrying duties was in order.) Eventually the matter was settled by having the Pantaloons help carry his precious stones. ''Rocky'' was a bit taller and greener than usual.


    The next minion had been been extremely lucky, and snatched a silk purse containing some silver and even a few gold coins on the surface. He was almost in tears as he ''voluntarily'' offered them to Kat, but cheered up when he realized he''d still get to carry them. ''Scrooge'' was a bit darker and spindlier than most.


    The remainder weren''t significantly different than before, and three carried had crude but multipurpose pick-like tools similar to the one Ark used before his awakening. The last had wielded a blunt sword, but Pantimus had immediately beat him up and took it. The one stuck carrying the unconscious body was, of course, Arc. At least he''d managed to push the bread onto one of the miners.


    ---------


    The tiny caravan wandered the tunnels. It was clear they were not merely sewers, but that some carried potable water instead. Occasionally one got mixed up with the other.


    There were others in the tunnels as well. Sounds of things crawling or slithering in the dark just around the corner were common, but only once did one challenge them.


    A crawling furred creature with a naked tail and huge incisors snuck up on the rear of the column and attempted to carry off their weakest member. Arc managed to endure his instincts this time and offer some sort of resistance. The beast didn''t give up in the face of Arc''s shouting and futile kicks; it was, after all, almost as big as two minions put together.


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    Panitmus reacted quickly, waving around his sword and brandishing Kat like she was some sort of holy symbol. As for Kat''s part, faint red and green lights started to play around the edges of her body. But before Pantimus could reach the scene, Rocky (who had left his burden on the poor Pantaloons) jumped on the beast''s back.


    He brought his carving rock down on its neck. It was far from a clean kill: the thing didn''t cease spasming until its neck was almost completely severed. The lights around Kat were absorbed, again not noticed by anyone who mattered.


    The procession halted temporarily to rest... And eat. Pantimus immediately claimed the liver, but uncharacteristically offered to share some with the one who had slain the creature in the first place. The latter was too busy obsessing over the severed head.


    Arc observed Rocky carefully hollowing out the skull, not ''wasting'' any brain in the process. He kept gnawing the stale bread. He had no intention of participating in the quarrel for the choicest bit of meat. His short teeth were poorly suited for rending uncooked flesh, anyways.


    "What a ''lively'' bunch..." He muttered. {Minion enthusiasm often in random directions, difficult to focus on one task; but can accomplish things collectively. Vague awareness of master''s desires is enough.}


    The image of a tiny colonial insect came to mind. Although each individual had only the most basic awareness, effectively wandering at random unless a pheromone trail, piece of food, or predator was within a few body-lengths, together they could perform tasks like hunting and gathering with remarkable efficiency.


    But wait. Something Kat said there... "Then does that mean - you actually like being worshipped?" {...Maybe!} Kat giggled, but Arc was dumbstruck. Who would have guessed that the tiny blue pebble he''d found in a stream would turn out to have goddess complex? Well, in a sense she actually was the minions'' goddess, but that didn''t make it any less surprising.


    "Well, I won''t be worshipping you." {That''s fine. Arc is different. Equal.} "And don''t plan on making me your high priest or apostle or anything like that, either." {...Shrine Tender.} The two began bickering nearly as much as the minions.

 [1.5] = Beginners Luck =

    {Good place. Kat likes it here.} She was talking about the room they had just found. It was a small natural cave on the side of a channel where the tunnel wall had caved in. It was filthy, damp because of the small amount of water seeping out of a crack in the wall, and cramped even for the minions, but it was unique compared to all the artificial corridors they''d seen so far.


    "Herenow makewe?" Rocky seemed eager about something. {No! Kat''s shrine, minions too ugly. Find own place to live!} The miners were dispatched, presumably to search for another room nearby. Arc wondered if it was okay to slit up again after they had spent so much effort to gather.


    There wasn''t much to do while waiting. Scrooge counted the coins, the Pantaloons bickered, Pantimus reluctantly returned Kat to Arc''s care, but only Rocky looked like he was actually working. He was painting crude pictograms on the walls of the tunnel just outside with leftover rat blood mixed with some dirt from the floor and his own spit. The severed head he was wearing like a cap just made the scene even more surreal.


    Arc was beginning to develop a macabre fascination about the minions'' odd behaviours, and it wouldn''t hurt to study the customs of his soon-to-be neighbors, so he asked Kat: "What in the world is he doing?" {Claiming territory. Aids in establishment of dungeon domain.} "Does he have to use blood?" {No. Any mark acceptable, intent most important.}


    If that was the case, then Arc finally had a way to make himself useful as more than a just a pack mule. He cautiously approached the minion. "Um, help you me will?" Arc was pretty sure he''d just messed up. Rocked paused his work and looked Arc up and down. Arc was just thankful that the appraisal wasn''t affecting him the same as Pantimus'' threats.


    Rocky pulled out one of the carving stones tucked into the tail tied around his waist and offered it to Arc. "Masterof roomin favorkin carvedo." He pointed towards the cave. "Rockmine bringback timedone at, else!" he warned.


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    The meaning got across. Rocky seemed to understand that Arc was an exception among the minions, and would be allowed to make marks inside Kat''s room. Arc nodded and took the stone, his mind now buzzing with activity.


    What sort of mark should he make? He had only two obvious features to base a design off of: Kat''s medallion, and the crack on the wall from which water seeped. A woman holding something, water pouring... An idea cemented quickly, and he got to work.


    He started with a circle around the crack, then more curves behind it... A graceful figure behind it... Arc lost track of time as he worked. At some point he received a a second rock to pound the first with, but he didn''t pay attention to the source. When he finally finished, the miners had returned and were watching him work.


    Arc had carved a woman pouring from a vase, with the crack seeping water disguised inside the vessel''s open mouth. Rocky nodded in approval as he retrieves his stones, while Pantimus gave exaggerated disdain. But as for the opinion Arc cared the most about...


    {Kat likes it!} "Really? I thought I messed up the perspective." {Arky, natural artist.} "But still, it''s only my first work. I shouldn''t be that good, should I?" {Actually... Kat helped a bit.} "What? How?" Arc may not have been paying attention to the world around him, but he should have noticed if Kat did something to the carving. {Probability collapse. Explanation difficult. Kat made sure Ark''s first work was the best it could be.}


    Arc wasn''t sure what she meant, but he knew everything in life had to have a price. "Well, whatever you did, you shouldn''t waste it on something trivial like this! Didn''t I tell you to conserve power?" {Kat forgot...} Well, at least this time she didn''t sound like she almost killed herself. "Hrmph, I can''t improve if I don''t get to see my shortcomings. Let me work for myself unless I ask for help."

 [1.6] = Settling for Sewers =

    The room the miners had found was much bigger than Kat''s, but also far, far filthier. It was an abandoned cistern, and sewage water covered the bottom in septic mud.


    "Goodmax this!" "Yupyup. Youlot rockbig, stiffbeast bringin! Er lamekin plus." Rocky seemed to think the room was ''perfect'', and Pantimus ordered the slab Rocky had been carving when they first met and the corpse of the monster he had slain to be brought in. And, almost as an afterthought... The minion which formerly held the sword?


    That minion was not only still unconscious, but was severely wounded when the predator had attempted to carry him off by his legs. From context Arc could infer that filth must be beneficial for minions, but couldn''t imagine that they intended to heal this guy. In fact, Arc wondered why he hadn''t already been left behind... Until realizing the only one who''d bothered to carry him in the first place was none other than himself.


    Knowing he''d been taken advantage of make Arc a bit depressed, but he didn''t really regret his decision. So he continued to stand back and watch the minions dancing in the grime.


    Dancing they were: all except Pantimus who ordered them around from a ledge, and Rocky, who was standing on the rock now placed in the center, and of course the wounded minion, who was -


    Arc suddenly understood, and it didn''t sit easy with him. He hoarsely whispered, "Are- aren''t you going to intervene?" {No.} It seems Kat wasn''t one of those goddesses which unconditionally cares for everyone.


    Rocky brought his carving stone down on the sacrifice''s chest, and - the sacrifice exploded. Not into blood and guts as one might assume, but into a thick yellow goop that splattered the walls and floor.


    The carvings on the altar glowed yellow as well, and the minions cheered. Within seconds, the mud started to bubble violently as if boiling. Within minutes, the room was filled with all manner of odd fungi. The bubbles reduced to a single lazy burst every once in a while, but the mud now felt hot to touch.


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    The first minion spawning pit had been created.


    ---------


    "I''m telling you, I didn''t lose my trousers, a trio of imps yanked them right off me!" Alaric looked up from his drink. He wasn''t naturally one to pry, but this sounded like it''d make a particularly juicy bit of gossip. Plus, it paid to keep your ears open in his business. Even around a belligerent foreign adventurer. No, especially around a belligerent foreign adventurer.


    "Pete, we all know you were drunk and ''with company'' at the time. She probably spiked your drink to run off with your money." It seems even the man''s friends didn''t believe him; it was a pattern Alaric had seen before. Far too often, it ended in preventable accidents.


    Other bar patrons interjected. "You sound like that fat merchant I met yesterday. Claimed a miniature fiend as black as night ran off with his wallet." "Prob''ly just an urchin covered in soot." One man scoffed, others nodded in agreement. "Well, at least he put his money where his mouth is. Promised employment plus the contents of the purse to whomever brought him its hide."


    The belligerent man - Pete, was it? - suddenly spoke up: "I''m in." The others were shocked. "You serious?" "I told you I wasn''t lying. I''ll find the beasts that shamed me and teach them a lesson, and if I can get paid then that''s all the excuse I need."


    Alaric returned to his own thoughts as the conversation drifted elsewhere. He wasn''t interested in the merchant''s offer; he already had steady employment. But as someone who kept the sewers clear of monsters for a living, he knew there was no telling what would emerge from the depths next.

 [2.1] + ESTABLISHMENT +

    It had been a while since the settlement of Kat''s territory, but exactly how long was impossible to determine. The primary reason for this was of course the lack of any point of reference such as a day/night cycle, but Arc had a solution for that - or so he thought.


    One of the fungi growing in the spawning pit formed tubes which hardened when dried, and another had thin, rubbery, elastic caps that were perfect for sealing an end or a joint. Both came in a wide variety of sizes as well.


    It also turned out that minion mucus was a strong, clear-drying adhesive.


    With these materials, and a few others besides, Arc was able to build a water clock in Kat''s room. Because it fed off the crack in the wall, it never needed refilling, and bone marbles counted the ''hours'' (for lack of a better term).


    Arc personally sat and watched it to be sure of its accuracy, but sometimes when he left and came back, the clock had recorded a different time than he felt it should have.


    Of course, normally Arc would assume that he''d merely been mistaken, but according to Kat there was actually something to it. Time wasn''t a fixed constant in a dungeon, although usually any distortion was slight and even measuring it took power.


    Power. That was another concept which was hard to pin down. Arc was, of course, very determined to understand what Kat needed to survive and grow, but unfortunately for Kat everything was instinctual. It also didn''t help that there weren''t proper words to describe what she experienced.


    It took many sessions of roundabout questioning, but Arc eventually came to know this much:


    Most importantly, Power was not a form of energy. It was not fuel to be expended to produce a desired result. The physical definition of power (in other words the rate at which energy is expended) was closer, but the most accurate term Kat could come up with was {Realistic Uncertainty}. (Existential, observational, causal, and other vague philosophical terms were also applicable, proving accuracy does not imply precision.)


    Basically, Power meant things happening with no better explanation than "Power did it". As far as Arc was concerned, this confirmed that Power was effectively the same thing as magic.


    But unlike some forms of so-called magic, Power was inherently non-quantifiable. This meant that its effects were potentially infinite, but of course the odds of something big happening from a small amount of Power were extremely low. But since Power effectively messes with probability in the first place...


    As far as Arc could tell, the existence of Power spat in the face of the scientific process, which required the same conditions to produce the same results (at least on average) in order to function. But apparently this wasn''t so bad, because the limiting factor of Power was long-term observation.


    This was about the limit of what could be gleamed through Kat. Arc wasn''t even able to clearly determine how Kat''s power was depleted, but apparently it was restored whenever the minions did stuff. She had also said it came in a near-infinite variety of ''flavors'', each of which was more useful for a specific thing.


    ---------


    As for more ''concrete'' affairs, the minion population had exploded. There were at least two dozen now; most looked the same, so Arc couldn''t count. Kat had said there were merely ''enough'', and implied it was another Power-related thing. Minions may hatch from fungal pods in the spawning pit, but as long as their exact number was uncertain, Power could be used to make more.


    Pantimus had assumed the position of ''Chief'', with the Pantaloons as his enforcers. Rocky was the shaman, and Scrooge was a combination treasurer/secret police chief. The minion tribe''s activities primarily focused around hunting rats, thieving expeditions to the surface, and ''remodeling'' the tunnels.


    One such remodeling effort had been undertaken in the tunnel where Arc had originally found Kat. The walls had already been stripped of bricks by the efforts from before their awakening, but after the judicious application of rat-blood-and-minion-spit runes, various crystals began to grow in clusters throughout the room.


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    There were several varieties, but the primary resembled pale amethyst. The minions broke off long enough crystals and pounded them with rocks in mixtures of ash, char, and yet more mucus to make their flint-like tool heads. The method was mysterious; no matter what Arc tried, he couldn''t replicate it himself. Apparently, it was an instinctive use of Power.


    Another construction project had been establishing Rat Dens throughout the tunnels. The minions had taken a liking to rat meat, rat hide cured was good for a variety of things, rat bones were used for tools and accessories, and even the offal was thrown into the spawning pit. So the minions hunted rats a lot, naturally leading to a downturn in the rat population.


    Then one day, Rocky led a procession of minions to Kat''s shrine. Behind them was dragged a live rat, bound and gagged. It was impressively large, bigger than even the one which attacked on the first day, and Arc tried not to think about how they''d managed to trap it.


    The huge rat was placed inside the shrine, and the laborers prostrated behind its writhing form. Rocky kneeled and addressed Kat, whom Arc was holding aloft for them. "Beastwild makeslave For Master." He used some of the more formal (and more coherent) vocabulary the minions reserved for addressing one much higher than them in status.


    Kat glowed and scanned the beast. {Lifeform identified as rat. Mutations: dire, giant. Classifications: creature, monster, mob, basic. Attempting to contract...} The rat gained an aura of dark green. After a while, it sopped struggling against its bounds.


    {Contract successful. Yay! Kat has her first mob!} Kat''s voice seemed to switch from dull to cuteness overload at the drop of a hat, sometimes. Rocky freed the rat, but it didn''t attack or flee, instead calmly following him away. Later Arc noticed more large rats in the area, but they never attacked minions unless provoked.


    The Rat Dens were small warrens dug into the sides of tunnels. Presumably there were female rats brooding inside them, but due to Power they were effectively infinite rat spawners as long as nobody pried. Many of their entrances seemed easily collapsible, but Arc decided not to try and improve them lest he mess up the magic which allowed them to function.


    ---------


    Arc''s main work for the past few weeks (give or take) had been improving Kat''s shrine. First he''d focused on expanding the space with a pick-like minion tool. The tailings were carried off by the other minions. Kat liked the natural cave feeling, so after the horizontal expansion was done she had Arc make marks on the walls, and used Power to make them look natural.


    Kat needed a place to rest when Arc wasn''t carrying her around, and apparently she liked being under flowing water, so Arc chipped away a pocket in the wall where the crack was. In the process he increased the water''s flow slightly, and when Kat was in residence her glow added to the carving''s beauty.


    As for the water, Arc had found better ways to deal with it than simply letting it run across the floor. He had, with great difficulty, coerced some minions into dragging in a boulder from the crystal cavern section. On top of this he put a pewter basin he''d ''borrowed'' from a minion who''d in turn snatched it from the surface.


    The basin was set up to catch the water issuing from the rock face, and its overflow was drawn off through fungal half pipes (refilling the water clock along the way). There wasn''t enough of it left over for anything else useful, but Arc had considered a decorative water wheel or something... Right now he lacked the materials.


    ---------


    The minions may have liked to laze around a lot, but they didn''t seem to require sleep; however, Arc was an exception. He made a small burrow attached to Kat''s shrine to sleep in, with a flat rock he could use the hide the entrance. Thanks to Kat''s power the camouflage was perfect, and he successfully avoided being forced to participate in most of the ''religious ceremonies''.


    However, lacking any long-term goals, Arc eventually ran out of things to do. And so he decided to go about solving a mystery: namely, that of Kat''s Origin.

 [2.2] = Minion Instincts =

    It wasn''t like Arc wasn''t interested in his own origin, it''s just that he didn''t have any leads. It was highly likely that he was summoned by magic alongside the other minions, anyways. But for Kat, he did have a lead... Kat''s figurine.


    The figurine had a loop and a string on the back, so perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a medallion. The string looked like it''d be a tight fit around the neck of one of the giants that lived on the surface, though.


    Incidentally, Arc had asked about the woman in the figurine. {Mother.} "Your mother?" {No...} "Hmm... That would have been too easy, huh?"


    Like Arc, Kat had no clear memories from before the Awakening. She had even once tried to use Power to recover them, but had only come up with vague feelings. {Long time: lonely, restless, longing. Brief fear, determination, severance. Falling, drifting, settling... Awakening. Arc knows the rest.}


    Arc was concerned about pushing Kat too far into something that might be uncomfortable for her, so he left the issue at that. It seemed that in order to take the next step, he''d have to take an expedition to the surface himself.


    But Arc hadn''t been to the surface since that one time with Kat; he knew he needed some help. Scrooge always brought the best loot back on raids, but he was closely associated with the dreaded Pantimus. So Arc hatched a plan to make sure his minion''s submission instincts wouldn''t get in the way.


    ---------


    Scrooge ran silently along the tunnel. His skin was blackened by charcoal-and-spore-based paint, the sounds of his movements dulled by black rat fur. His minion-flint dagger, pounded from a whole large crystal, was naturally a blackish color. But although this seemed cunning, it was instinctual at best. In truth, he just liked black.


    Not as much as he liked blingies, though. And he''d heard that a runt had filched some yellowblingies, yet not turned it over to him as according to the rules. Nobody could take his blingies except for the Chief, those were the rules, and everyone knew them.


    But minions were forgetful creatures, and sometimes, they needed to be reminded what happens to those who don''t follow the rules. Like the runt currently hiding out in Master''s shrine room. No doubt that weakling would take the runt''s side, he''d need a lesson himself next time he left Master''s sight...


    Master probably wouldn''t care about the runt, but just to be safe he''d offer to bring two new blingies for each one the runt had. Well, maybe he''d bring a bit less than that... Master can''t count, right? After all, Master doesn''t have any fingers to count with. Maybe that''s why Master kept the weakling around? The weakling looked like he''d be good at counting.


    Scrooge arrived at the shrine, and stepped inside cautiously. He wasn''t one of those rattykin''s fanatics, but he knew the Chief wouldn''t stand for any disrespect towards Master.


    Now, where was that runt hiding? Scrooge couldn''t see him, but he knew the weakling had a really good hiding spot in here somewhere... *clunk* A sound startled him, but it was just one of the weakling''s contraptions. What was their point, anyways? There didn''t seem to be any place to put someone in them...


    "What are you doing here, Scrooge?" He turned around, and saw the weakling was suddenly behind him, as if he''d stepped out of a rock. "Weakling runt hidewhere?" Scrooge grinned and brandished his dagger; the weakling must be as dumb as he looks.


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    But the weakling wore an arrogant expression as he cleared his throat. "The only runt here is you," "Oioi, wea-" "you''ve been embezzling the loot from the surface, haven''t you?" ...This weakling had done it now. Not even Master was going to save him this time. Scrooge leapt -


    *BANG*


    - and was immediately thrown backwards by a flash of light. {Master is very disappointed in Scrooge.} This was bad. Masters generally only used names when showing favor or delivering punishment. It was clear which one it was this time.


    "I know where all your hidden stashes are. Even the one in the third tunnel past the spawning pit, behind the loose brick on the right-hand side." Scrooge was stunned. Of all his many hiding places, that was the one he''d considered the safest. He quickly turned and prostrated towards Master''s resting place.


    "Please Master, Spare Me! Scrooge Be Good Minion, Give All To Master!" His brain was in overdrive, coming up with the fanciest words it could think of, in the hopes of saving his hide. {Mmm, Hmm... What does Arc think? Should Kat punish naughty minion?} Scrooge couldn''t help but whimper at the thought. "Well, I think we could let it slide once..."


    Scrooge immediately crawled over to Arc and started kissing his feet. "Boss! Boss max thanken!" Scrooge got kicked in the face for his efforts. But that was fitting behavior for a boss, just like boss'' look of utter disdain for him.


    "Um... Why- Why don''t you go gather an offering for Ka- err, Master, or something?" Scrooge jumped to it. "Yes Boss! Quickright getten!" And then he ran off.


    ---------


    {...Bwahahahahaha! Arc''s face, so funny!} Arc took deep breaths. He was prepared to be threatened this time, but not worshipped! And to think, Kat actually enjoys that? He was just glad that Scrooge hadn''t noticed the sheer horror plastered across Arc''s visage. Or the fear before that, for that matter.


    That bit about him finding Scrooge''s stashes had been a lie, by the way. Kat knew where everything important in her dungeon was at all times; she just didn''t care where the minions left her treasure. After all, she could order Arc to go retrieve it at any time.


    That particular cache was chosen for two reasons: First, it held the highest ratio of gold to silver. Second, it was one of the few which were actually well-hidden. The most popular hiding spot was actually inside large mud-and-mucus pots that a few minions made obsessively.


    The efforts of the "Crackpots" had managed to put two or three ugly, misshapen vessels in nearly every tunnel, and the minions used them to store practically anything. Sometimes even roasted rat meat preserved in a mucus-mud mixture that looked almost like gravy.


    Arc walked over to the burnt spot on the floor. Originally, Kat was going to instill fear directly with her power, but Arc thought that was wasteful and made it ''Plan B''. After all, saltpeter was easy to find in a sewer, and the minions frequently stole charcoal from the surface... The hard part was getting sulfur; Arc had to make do with pyrite from the mining section.


    Kat still used power to make a spark, but the sight of the startled minion jumping backwards like a cat was enough to make Arc feel like he''d accomplished something.


    In the end, Scrooge had turned out to be no more than a cowardly snitch, hadn''t he? Arc had no worries about instinctively fearing him again in the future.

 [2.3] = By His Command =

    It turned out minions were easier to direct (if not organize) than Arc had assumed. He''d expected them to need constant ''reminders'' to stay on-task, which is part of why he''d suborned Scrooge, but that proved incorrect.


    As long as a minion given something to do, they''d usually keep at it until it was done. Even if turned out a Sisyphean task, they''d work endlessly unless something interrupted them. Arc wondered if they''d even work themselves to starvation, but he wasn''t heartless enough to try.


    Minions with nothing to do could be kept in one area with promises of food or gifts. However, any minions that actually received a gift immediately ran off to hide it somewhere in the dungeon, so gifts needed to be used sparingly. Setting up a temporary rat-butchering-and-roasting operation was often more effective. (Although it was said minions lack the need to sleep, they still desired it, and especially liked to nap after meals.)


    Rounding up minions was possibly the hardest for Arc to do, as the standard method was to shout something like "Lazykin youlot: followme! Stuffmuch do-en!" to a group of minions. When successful, the minions would follow the leader like a pack of dogs, and do whatever he said. As long as the leader looked like he had a plan, the minions would wait eagerly for instructions, and idlers who saw the group would often join it on their own initiative.


    The problem was that this required authority. The more authority the leader had, the more minions could be gathered. Arc only had enough to round up two or three minions on his own, and he simply lacked the force of ambition to seize more. Kat told him this much rather matter-of-factly, claiming to be able to sense it like Power.


    However, that didn''t mean Arc couldn''t come up with another solution. It started with observations made while minion-watching.


    Minion-watching was an activity Kat came up with to pass the time. She''d figured out how to display images on the surface of the water basin in her shrine, and every day or two she''d take videos of the minions'' funniest antics and share them with Arc. (Although he called them recordings, Arc suspected at least a few were actually near-future events. Kat really didn''t seem to be able to tell the difference.)


    Anyways, Arc had noticed that the minions'' two main leaders, Pantimus and Rocky, each exerted influence in a different way. Pantimus had lieutenants such as the Pantaloons who could operate semi-autonomously, and working together they could corral a group larger than he could have managed solo. Rocky, on the other hand, led less through force than by example: he''d simply start doing something with enough pizazz that curious minions were naturally caught up in it.


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    And so, Arc came up with an experiment. He made three poles and tied various things to them: one had a large crystal, another a chunk of fresh rat roast, and a third fungal silk tassels. He then gathered three minions and ordered them to run around the dungeon and come back. Arc then got to work swinging a pick at a nearby wall. Sure enough, when they returned each was trailing a few idlers behind them, and everyone immediately joined in the work.


    Arc still couldn''t believe how enthusiastic the minions were. Even the ones without tools scraped away with their claws. Even when Arc stopped working himself, the others continued.


    "Well, at least I know that I can assign them a task now..." Arc muttered to himself. {But Arc...} Kat''s body was still back in the shrine, but she could talk anywhere in the dungeon now. She sounded a little mischievous this time. {Shouldn''t Arc know that Kat can do this by herself already? Minions: Room, Clay Pit.} "Yes, Master!"


    The minions immediately switched gears from random digging, and started shoring up the walls and ceiling in a more-or-less orderly manner. One even started gathering tailings to make a counter for potters to work at.


    Arc collapsed, exhausted and groaning. "Kat, you could have said something sooner." {But Arc looked so determined, Kat didn''t want to interrupt.} That pout sounded fake to Arc, but he wasn''t resentful - we was far too busy considering the implications of this revelation.


    "To be able to convey clear intent with but a word, if I could replicate this somehow..." But he was no Master. Unlike Kat, he couldn''t rely on instinctive channels of communication. {Maybe, Arc could tell Kat what needs to be done, and Kat could relay to minions?}


    Arc shook his head. Is wasn''t a bad idea, but it was still flawed. "Then I''d just be spending time explaining it to you instead of the minions. Unless..." Arc considered the unknown potential of Kat''s power. "Unless, is it possible to for you to see the ideas in my head, exactly as I envision them?"


    Kat took a while to respond. {...Only if Kat tries that thing Arc hated again.} Arc paled. Oh, That. Yeah, he could sort of understand why that might be necessary. However, he still wasn''t brave enough to face that particular phobia just yet. Besides, the last time Kat almost died, and he didn''t want to risk her either.


    "Nnn-no... I think we shouldn''t try that again unless there''s a really good reason for it." Arc couldn''t imagine what that might be, though.

 [2.4] = Tunnel Exploration =

    Whoever designed these tunnels must have had no common sense; that is what Arc concluded after two or three weeks of living in them.


    For starters, they were all far too large. Sure, the original miners need room to swing their tools, but even two surface giants could have easily passed each other without touching the walls in the majority. In fact, if they were closer to the surface they could have just buried pipes instead of digging tunnels in the first place.


    And the paths... Why was so much valuable floorspace devoted to empty paths? Any water channel more than two minions wide had a walkway on at least one side, sometimes on both sides. Why?? The channel itself should have been dry during construction, and a repair crew would need to get wet anyways. Dry tunnels connecting wet ones made more sense, but there were far more of them than necessary too; some even dead-ended at deserted rooms.


    Rooms... Some of the rooms were just absurd. What was the point of such huge cisterns? How long of a dry spell did the builders plan for? Their distribution seemed rather lopsided as well.


    Where did all the tailings go? The minions had only been making minor additions so far, and they were already having difficulties figuring out where to dump all the earth they''d moved (it''d mostly been spread out in pots throughout the dungeon, but there were already too many pots). Arc could only assume they used a magical disposal method. He hoped he could figure out what it was soon...


    The tunnels moved in three dimensions, but usually tended to stay in the same horizontal plane, and water tunnels running parallel to each other were often of the same depth. If the tunnels were to be divided into horizontal layers by depth, Kat''s shrine would probably be on the third such layer. Most of the other rooms were on the third or fourth layers.


    At the moment, Arc was on the second layer trying to make a map in preparation for his expedition. This was extremely difficult without proper tools, not to mention paper. But it had to be done: Kat''s influence got weaker the higher they went, and she wouldn''t be able to guide them if they got lost.


    Arc did his best. One type of fungus had silky gills that could be used for string; Arc made one very long with knots at regular intervals. The distance in-between knots was set at as far as Arc''s arms could spread apart, which was a bit more than his height. For plack of imagination, this unit was called a "length".


    Unfortunately, fungus and minion mucus couldn''t solve the paper problem. Arc had tried, but the result had been too brittle: it crumbled instead of bent. This time it was minion urine that came to the rescue, as Arc opted to make ratskin parchment.


    That''s not to say those two most useful materials were totally useless. One tiny, midnight-blue mushroom could be crushed for liquid spore-based dye. Adding mucus thickened it enough to make decent ink.


    Figuring out what to write was even more difficult. While he had knowledge of writing from god-knows-where, (Kat sure didn''t) the specifics were missing. He''d probably have to invent a new character set from scratch; preferably one which at least the smarter minions could understand.


    So far he''d only bothered with numbers. "Five and two-eight Lengths to new tunnel... Number three and four-eight." That was to say, the distance between the last measured point and tunnel #35 was 21L. Minions had four fingers on each hand, so base eight was natural, even if Arc''s memories seemed to be in decimal.


    The character shapes were simple: Arc just drew the sides of a box in one at a time to count to four, then added another box above to count to eight. Even most of the minions could understand it; although since few really ''got'' a written zero, large numbers would need to be written with strings of ''8'' in hypothetical written instructions. (For himself, Arc used an ''S''-like curve to represent a zero digit.)


    "Brush." Arc took the tool proffered by the minion currently serving as his gopher and marked the new tunnel. They''d come back to it later, after this tunnel was done. "Pointnext, moveup." The other two minions currently in Arc''s employ began stretching the measuring rope down the tunnel they were in.


    This was quite the team he''d managed to assemble, and arc was proud of it. The laborers doubled as bodyguards. The gopher was much less stupid than average. There was even a tamed giant rat to help carry their stuff. (A pack-rat, if you will.)


    Arc''s count was at seven and one-eight lengths when Kat called. {Arc, something... About to happen.} Her voice was faint this far out, and distorted like someone shouting down a very long pipe, but she definitely sounded concerned. "Kat? What is it?"


    {Kat can''t sense clearly, too far... Come back, Arc.} Arc felt a strange compulsion behind that order. It was too weak to force him to obey, but if Kat was even trying then that meant this was serious.


    He  interrupted his minions. "Stop. We''re going back. Now." Arc noticed light coming from the tunnel they just passed. And sounds. Voices. Even accounting for distortions from the tunnel, they reverberated too deep to belong to minions.


    ---------


    "See, I told you ya should have brought something. There''s plenty of room, and we missed that rat because we didn''t have range." "And I told you that moisture does terrible things to bows. It soaks into the wood, weakens the resin, and ruins them. Anyways, the rat wouldn''t have jumped into the water if it couldn''t hear your blabbering a mile away."


    Of the three men, only one seemed to be taking things seriously. He was on point, with a long sword and a wooden shield. Behind him was a man with a war hammer and a lantern, and another with a pair of daggers. But while the shield may be borrowed and the sword meant for use in larger spaces, at least he understood the basics: keep noise to a minimum, and don''t look directly at the light source.


    The lantern man ignored both that common sense and the other''s return jab. "I''ll bet one of those crossbows with the fancy dwarfish spring steel would be just fine..." "Oh yeah? Then you pay for it. Besides, you don''t want to be walking in front of one of those when loaded, neither of you can shoot, and I don''t feel like taking point."


    The actual pointman couldn''t contain his frustration any longer. "Well, Steve, maybe if you would take point we might be able to find what we''re looking for. And Mark, you''re one to talk about weapon choice. Expect to find much armor to crack with that pick of yours down here, hmm?"


    The admonished pair said nothing. It wouldn''t help to point out that Steven couldn''t track something he''d never seen in an environment he was unfamiliar with, or that Markus was too pressed for funds to even rent a sword at the guild for this trip.


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    Neither of them had expected much trouble from the start, anyways. The locals kept their sewers fairly clean (metaphorically speaking, of course). They''d be lucky to collect enough rat-tail bounties to pay for lunch. A few more weeks of unemployment, and the rats might even be lunch.


    After a while, it was Mark again who broke the silence. "Speaking of dwarves... I heard they were the ones that made most of these tunnels." "You don''t say?" More awkward silence, until Steve finally relented. "*sigh* Well, I guess them dwarfs never make anything laconically, heh." (Yes, that was a ''short'' joke. A well-known one amongst adventurers who would otherwise probably go their entire lives without even once hearing the word ''laconic''.)


    "I know, right? Supposedly the city above started as a trading post for the dwarves living in the hill. Eventually the dwarves moved away, but the city kept growing, and the mines were converted to carry water." "Did them dwarfs handle that too? I''ll bet they could''ve made the river dry up while the town flooded, and in the middle of winter at that!"


    Their leader went back to ignoring them. Mark was a rarity among adventurers in that he had a basic education, but he just loved to show it off, even if half of his ''facts'' were made up on the spot. It was best just to -


    *thwump*


    What was that?! A sound from up ahead. A light, too! The shapes were weren''t moving like rats, but they were too small to be human. The enemy! He''d found them!


    No time to waste, he knew how fast the little buggers could be. But this time, he would be faster. He charged.


    "RrraaaAAAAAA!" "Wha-" The sudden cry startled the two idiots behind him, but no matter. He sure wasn''t going to stop his rush forward now.


    Two enemies tried and one was blown back by the shield for its trouble. The other was smacked away by his sword. If he had been able to swing it properly, the victim probably would have been bisected instead.


    A third enemy got trampled, but then fourth jumped on its back. Something sharp sank deep into his shoulder, but that wasn''t going to stop him either. He crushed the assailant against the wall until it let go.


    By the time that he pair of sluggards had finally caught up, it was already over. Markus played his across the bodies. "Kobolds... There really are kobolds down here..." His voice was but a shocked whisper, while the leader was casually wiping his sword as if nothing extraordinary had just happened.


    "So then, Markus, would you kindly tell me what kind of kobold they are? What are their habits and weaknesses?" Mark was still


    dumbstruck. "I- I don''t know." Of course, that was a given: monsters were widely varied, often unique, so knowledge about any given species was not distributed far beyond its specific habitat. This was a new monster in the area, which meant there was probably no knowledge of it anywhere.


    "I guess... For a bounty we should bring back the ears?" "No, Steven; we''ll be taking whole corpses this time. Well, as close to whole as they are now, anyways. Even that rat, we''ll want to show off its harness. Now, I think they came from the right, so lets head upstream and look for a nest."


    Neither gave any lip about the heavy loads they were given. Much to their amazement, Peter Frederick Kostov had just landed them a paying job.


    ---------


    Arc pulled himself out of the water, but what he coughed up was partially blood, his blood. Gopher had tripped and spilled his load, and Arc had been trying to help him back up, when suddenly - something had kicked him into the water. He''d tumbled in the water for what had felt like a very long time after that.


    Arc lay on the bank now, pain overwhelming his frail body. It felt like he had broken several ribs, perhaps even ruptured an organ. This was bad... Maybe he should have given his plans to introduce the concept of healthcare to the other minions a higher priority?


    What was that thing? It was as big as a surface giant, but that was impossible. He''d personally debriefed several of the surface raiders, and every account suggested that such acceleration was impossible.


    Impossible, unless... They cheated. Somehow, the giant had tricked inertia into looking the other way for a second. Come to think of it, he might have caught a glimpse of a faint orange glow...


    Pain flashed through him again. But thus time, the wound acting up was a much older one, and less physical. Memories were coming back to him.


    More giants, not glowing softly but shining brilliantly like stars; with them were thousands of lesser lights.


    Some of the lesser lights went ahead, and were slaughtered. The greater lights moved foreword, but were outflanked. Wherever they weren''t, lights were snuffed out, and even where they were the collateral damage was too great for their charges to survive.


    This continued until only the brightest stars remained. And then... Supernova.


    The worst part of it wasn''t the violence, or the blood. It was the fact that the blood was on Arc''s hands.


    Arc still couldn''t remember everything, but he felt that he probably deserved this.


    ---------


    Eventually, a rat found Arc. Fortunately, it wasn''t there to eat him.


    There was a minion on its back. Soon, more arrived. In charge was Rocky, wearing a grim expression. He was also wearing his finest ratskins, and staff that was once an elderly giant''s cane. He held it over Arc''s still form.


    On top of the cane was a rat skull, decorated with pilfered gold. It had been hastily converted into a reliquary, and now bore the most precious and sacred object known to minionkind.


    Kat, and the staff around her, began to sine with golden hue. The minions feared and hated that light, it was too much like the sun. Many hissed or shied away, but Rocky continued his duty, and began chanting prayers.


    The shine fell upon Arc''s body. Within minutes, it faded, and darkness returned.


    But enough light remained that Arc could be clearly seen to breathe again.


    He was still unconscious, so the minions had to carry him back to the dungeon.

 [3.1] + FUNDAMENTALS +

    Arc woke up in the shrine. Not in his usual bed, but in a pile of rat fur on the stone slab next to the firepit, which served as his kitchen counter. (Although, Rocky also used it for much more grim purposes...)


    He felt groggy, had a terrible headache, and couldn''t remember last night. Maybe Pantimus forced a skinfull of surface wine down his throat?


    What was the last thing he could recall doing? ...It was embarking on a mapping expedition, wasn''t it? No, wait.


    That journey had ended in disaster. They were attacked, and slaughtered. Arc was lucky to even be alive now. He knew this fact, but it somehow felt detached, like it wasn''t actually him that it happened to.


    {Ark, okay now?} Lucky to be alive, huh? "Yeah, Kat... Did you do mess around with probability again to save me?" {...No. Too far. Domain too thin to collapse on that scale.} Arc hesitantly poked at his ribs. No pain.


    "Then... You healed me, Kat?" {...Arc reverted to previous state. Experience merged where possible.} So, she basically rewound time for him? It sounded like there was more she wasn''t telling.


    "Kat... Where did you get enough power to do that?" {Outsourced.} "Outsourced where?" {Here.} "What..." {Observer interaction.}


    Kat wasn''t being very helpful, but Arc had seen this pattern before. It was back when Arc was first asking Kat about how her power worked. Only this time, she was probably being deliberately evasive instead of just at a loss for words.


    The proper response was to be as specific as possible with one''s questions. "So... Are you saying a source of power external to you is ''here'', as you used the term?" {No.} "But it was here when you healed me?" {...No.} "Then... If it wasn''t ''here'' then and isn''t ''here'' now... At some point it will be?" {...Yes.}


    Arc was shocked. Doing stuff non-causually had to cost a lot. Or rather, it shall inevitably do so. But... He muttered to himself: "If the power ''lost in transmission'' is directly proportional to the amount sent, and exponentially proportional to time traversed, then mathematically it''s no different from a loan. Only, we can''t default on it without violating cause-and-effect..."


    {Arc isn''t mad?} "No. You probably saved my life again, and it''s done now. Well, technically it isn''t done yet, but we still can''t change it. Or won''t." Arc''s mind may not have had a problem wrapping around the situation, but his tongue sure did. "Just make sure this debt gets paid without hurting yourself in the process."


    Arc needed to switch focus to something he could actually do something about, now. "The assailant... That was a human, wasn''t it? One of the so-called surface giants." {Yes.} "He was using Power, wasn''t he?" {Probably. Not identical to Kat''s power.}


    "And... Dungeons: humans invade those, don''t they?" {Kat feels like they''re supposed to.} "But we should fight them off? Minions, I mean." {...Minions maintain dungeon defenses.} "That can include themselves though, right?"


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    {Arc shouldn''t fight.} He understood that Kat was trying to protect him, but Arc wasn''t intending to sit idly by and not protect her in return. "I promise I won''t be fighting myself. I don''t feel like having a repeat of this event ever again."


    And so, Arc got back to work. But he had made the mistake of assuming that what he''d actually uncovered the thing Kat was trying to hide.


    Not even once did he consider the possibility that when Kat patched up his memories, she took a peek at them first, and decided to leave something out.


    ---------


    Rocky had posted a guard at the shrine''s entrance. He had olive-colored skin and a dim wit even by minion standards, but the most distinguishing feature had to be his massive size. He was nearly twice Arc''s height, huge! Even taller than Pantimus. Arc decided to call him Big Green.


    Big Green was very dedicated to his duty. During Arc''s entire conversation with Kat, he''d neither made a single noise nor moved one finger''s-breadth from his post. According to her, Big Green hadn''t even left to eat or sleep once.


    This gave Arc an idea. He quickly fetched a spare paint pot and brush. On the wall behind Big Green, he wrote the symbol for ''1'', then a circle with a horizontal line through it. He didn''t even need to tell Kat it meant "Guard", which boded well for his odds of success.


    Rocky had once demonstrated that written symbols could help a dungeon expand by literally marking its ''claim'' on the walls. If such crude paintings could do that much, perhaps a more refined mark could affect the domain in a different way?


    Making sure not to tell Kat what he was up to, he moved to another tunnel. On a wall he made a a circle as large as he could. In side it he made a flattened chevron with a vertical line in a sort of ''T'' shape, a ''4'' symbol, and another vertical line, this time connecting two dots.


    Eventually a passing minion decided that where he''d marked would be a good spot to dig a hole roughly four lengths deep. (The process took a while, but Arc had ways to pass the time. Such as the low-effort but tedious task of shaping fragments of rat bone into large beads for the water clock to count with.)


    In another tunnel, he made a simple ''X'' on the floor. But this time, the first minion to pass by did not move a pot full of dirt there like Arc hoped. Instead, he just stared at the mark cock-headed, cautiously poked it with his foot, then finally took a leak on the spot.


    "So, I guess just making any old mark won''t work, huh?" {Symbols convey only meaning invested in them: no more, no less.} "Then... An ''X'' has the meaning of ''do something here'', but doesn''t specify what? I suppose that''s not unfair; being able to interpret characters I made up on the spot is generous enough."


    {It''s because Arc always puts thought into what he does, that his actions carry such clear meaning.} "Hmm... Is that pride I detect in your voice?" {Kat''s favorite, Arky-minion!}

 [3.2] = Expert Advice =

    Now Arc had a means to directly influence the minions. The first thing he wanted to make was a patrol through the second layer to intercept potential intruders.


    He started by marking a suitable path. The symbol Arc devised for ''patrol'' was made by overlapping two curves and a horizontal line, like this: ''<del>)(</del>''. He then made ''points'' along the tunnels by writing that symbol, a route identification number, and a ''?'' symbol showing the direction of travel into a box on the floor. (A good coat of mucus varnish sufficed to keep it from being rubbed off by accident.)


    Arc made two patrol routes for now, one passing by each end of the tunnel Kat''s shrine was in. Next was the task of getting minions to actually patrol them.


    The minions had seemed receptive to following stuff on sticks, so Arc decided to try making war banners. Two long and thin fungal rods lashed together and one large tanned rat hide (with instructions written on the back) did the trick well enough. Or not... Arc''s minion instincts told him it was still missing something.


    But for the first time, Arc had someone to consult with. He called in his patsy, Scrooge. Thankfully Scrooge had some experience in leading minions and was thus able to partially understand what Arc was trying to do. He helpfully suggested asking the ''prayhed'' to ''blessify'' it.


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    Rocky was much more comprehending. In fact, he was much more comprehensible as well, apparently making the attempt to match Arc''s syntax when speaking to him. Had Rocky''s intelligence increased recently? Arc reflected that he might not make for a bad conversational partner, so long as the topic of religion was avoided.


    Rocky listened patiently to Arc, examined his prototype, and asked what the instructions written on the back meant. After considering for a while, he sent some minion acolytes away to gather a few things, a pulled a small rat out of a cage. Its squealing was suddenly silenced; its blood used to make paint.


    Arc''s writing was compact, so there was plenty of space left over on the back of the banner. Rocky made several pictograms on the back, the largest featuring the number of minions Arc had written moving in file and attacking a giant. When the acolytes returned bearing trinkets such as pretty rocks, dried fungi, and rat skulls, bones, and claws, these were added as well.


    Rocky declared the banner done, and handed it to an acolyte. He gave a short benediction that basically amounted to "let fate guide your way", and sent the minion out the door. Arc stayed just long enough to start construction of the second banner before returning to the shrine.

 [3.3] = Random Encounter =

    Arc had intended to minion-watch with Kat to see how the patrols faired, but the first banner-bearer had been held up by one of Pantimus'' goons when something more important occurred.


    {Arc, intruders.}


    The image displayed in the water bowl shimmered and changed. Now it displayed two men cautiously advancing through a tunnel. Neither was quite as large as the giant which had attacked earlier, but both were still big enough that the difference really didn''t matter.


    The passed by a side tunnel which had been marked by Arc earlier, and the marking was highlighted in the image. "Tunnel #16? That should be on the layer above us." {Kat spent effort to expand domain upwards after yesterday.}


    "So... That means you can fight them somehow, right?" {Um... Right.} Arc raised an eyebrow and glanced at the hole in the wall where Kat''s body lay. "You aren''t sure?" {Hmph. This is Kat''s first time trying: only natural to not know what to do. Arc doesn''t know what to do all the time!}


    This wasn''t the time to chide Kat for her sassiness. It was an emergency situation, and she needed reassurance to build her self-confidence.


    "It''s okay, Kat: you can work through this. Start small. What do you have nearby you can fight them with?" {...Rats. Mobs near intruders, instinctively attack. Kat can lure them to gather.}


    Large rats moved into rooms ahead of the intruders'' path, but it failed to stop them. They were slaughtered very methodically: first, the rat would be pinned to the ground with a short polearm, then its back or neck would be broken with a cudgel. Once, the larger human even made sport of a rat it had pinned, pointing at it writhing on the ground while the other human watched.


    There was some difficulty in handling groups of three or more in this way, so in those cases one invader changed tactics to merely keeping the rats at bay while the other killed them one at a time. However, the pair seemed less disciplined at times like these, and suffered a number of mild bite wounds on their legs despite the thick leathers they wore.


    Their wounds, they cleaned with clear liquid from a flask before dressing. For every rat they killed, they removed its tail, and put it in a bag after draining the blood. Their methodical approach was efficient and effective. The dungeon would run out of rats long before they got tired, at this rate.


    "Kat, this isn''t working. Is there any way you can act more directly?" {Traps.} Suddenly a stone fell from the ceiling, nearly hitting one of the invaders'' head. The two paused for a moment, and one of them used their polearm to carefully probe for any other loose stones in the ceiling nearby. Finding none, they continued their approach.


    {...Any more would require significant amounts of Power to spontaneously trigger.} Kat was definitely becoming dispirited at the sight of her own weakness.


    "Actually, Kat... That''s more my fault than yours. I''m the one who''s been trying to organize the dungeon, yet the thought of adding traps didn''t even cross my mind." {But... Kat is Master, never assigned that duty to Arc.} He shook his head at that. "Doesn''t matter. I took it upon myself, and you trusted me with it. I''m the one who failed you."


    {...Arky-minion, a failure?} "Right. I fail all the time, but I always learn from my mistakes. That''s how I can constantly improve, and eventually succeed."


    Arc told Kat that to keep her calm, but it was necessary to prevent himself from panicking as well. It was happening too soon; the dungeon wasn''t ready yet!


    Okay, take a deep breath. Think about this logically. Suppose we don''t stop these intruders here, what then? What damage can they actually do?


    They could kill a lot of minions, but those were easily replaceable. They might damage some rooms; in fact, they''ve already collapsed some Rat Dens. But they didn''t seem intent on destroying the tunnels wholesale, so the damage could be repaired.


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    So... There actually wasn''t much reason to worry at all? The thought help settle Arc''s adrenaline levels a bit.


    {Okay, Arc. Kat will try again, this time with minions Arc organized!} The display shifted to a grout of minions... It was the patrol!


    At the front was the bully who''d been accosting the banner-bearer earlier; it seems he just wanted to be the war-leader. Behind were five more minions for a total of seven - one less than Arc had specified on the banner, but quite a lot given such short notice.


    The leader had a hunting spear, and three followers carried the ubiquitous minion tools. Their weapons may be flint, but the invaders were protected primarily with soft leathers intended to stop rat bites. They had a chance!


    The minions rushed upon the invaders. They were surprised for sure, but to their credit they braced their staves against the charge. Unfortunately for them, the trident-like heads of these polearms were designed to trap, not kill. Two minions were impaled, but their struggling bodies blocked the weapons from sticking any others.


    One human swept his captive into another minion, crashing them both into the wall. He then dropped the unwieldy pole and drew a long knife, keeping the club in his off-hand. He moved to assist his companion, who was struggling to keep the patrol leader pinned.


    The fight didn''t go as well as Arc hoped. The narrow tunnel greatly limited the effect of numerical advantage. To make matters worse, the weapons failed to deal as much damage as Arc hoped.


    Whenever a minion managed to land a solid blow, a greenish light appeared to soften the damage. The light was weakening each time, but at this rate the fight would end before it faded entirely.


    The banner-bearer wasn''t fighting, but cheering the others on from the rear. No, not cheering: chanting. A purple fog seemed to be swirling at his feet. Then a lot of things happened at once.


    The vortex tightened, then pulsed outwards. One human tripped, but the other reacted in time and caught him. However, that left his flank exposed: one of the ''unarmed'' minions revealed a hidden knife and stabbed him just below the knee. A vomit-brown glow from the flint displaced first the green barrier, then next a red halo around the wound.


    The minion died instantly to the counter-attack, but had clearly managed to do some damage. The unwounded invader was clearly enraged, and a crimson haze gathered. He swung the tip of the pike around, delivering a gash to the banner-bearer and knocking the banner from his hands.


    The patrol was quickly mopped up. Two minions fled, but the invaders didn''t pursue. One was injured, and badly so. A brown glow on the wounded area was slowly growing.


    After applying a quick tourniquet, salve, and bandage to his wounded comrade, the other human examined the bodies littering the ground. A few minion ears were cut off and put in a jar; the banner was rolled up and shoved into a bag. A few coins and trinkets were also gathered. Finally, and with much hesitation, he retrieved the dagger which wounded his ally with a cloth, and wrapped it.


    The two began to withdraw from the dungeon. Arc breathed a sigh of relief.


    He was almost beginning to relax when Kat asked an odd question.


    {Arc... Everyone learns from mistakes?} "Um, I guess? Or, at least, they should."


    {Then, even the humans?} Did she mean they''d learn to leave the dungeon alone? "I don''t see where you''re going with this."


    {Injured human, will die before reaching surface.} "...There''s nothing we can do to help them. They''ll attack or run the minute they see another minion, including me."


    {Then, if they weren''t afraid?} Kat sounded resolute about something, but she was making no sense. Arc had no idea what to say to her. "Err..." He managed a stutter, at least.


    {...Master wants Archimedes to go hide.}

 [3.4] = Safe Zone =

    Wendelin helped his limping uncle Alaric through the tunnels. His wound was deep but should be survivable; however, some foul magic was causing it to become fetid quickly. His uncle may not have been elderly, but he was definitely past his prime, and might not survive an amputation.


    He blamed himself for this. Maybe, if he''d been more careful, this wouldn''t have happened. His uncle had warned him not to discount the words of the foreigners who had claimed to have discovered a new type of monster in the sewers. Their reports of the corpses melting into unidentifiable goop within hours were probably true as well.


    "Don''t worry, Lin. This is nothing." His uncle was putting on a tough front for his sake. "I remember once, back when when I was your age, a demon that came up from the underworld. Some unholy beast ''twixt owl and moth. Its poison was so terrible, within minutes you''d swear the victim''d been dead fer a week."


    Wendelin had heard this one before. This time his uncle wasn''t mentioning the fact that he only survived because the monster didn''t bother to chase him when he fled.


    "Right, uncle. This malady is not nearly so great as that." Yet it was still not so weak that simple cleansing with alchohol could treat it. That was enough for rat bites, and all a rat-hunter could afford these days. Maybe if the barons didn''t keep reducing the bounty on rat-tails, the tunnels would be swept more often and new monsters purged before they became a problem.


    The pair rounded a corner, then stopped dead in their tracks.


    Suddenly, another of the new monsters had appeared. But this one was much larger than the ones from before, almost measuring up to Lin''s chest. It was armed with a club, and armored in rat furs.


    The standoff lasted for a minute, then the creature started making yapping noises and gesturing at them.


    Alaric whispered advice: "I think it''s challenging us. Back slowly away, but do not break eye contact."


    But his nephew had a different thoughts. "If it attacks us both, you shall surely be hurt even more. I can take him." This was his chance to redeem himself.


    "How many times have I got to warn you about foolish risks!" Alaric raised his voice, but he was in no condition to restrain Lin. The latter slowly moved forward, stopping about five meters from the foe.


    His right hand held his rat-catcher pole, which he couldn''t afford to put down in the face of the enemy. So he carefully drew his dagger with his left.


    Wendelin''s dagger was a pure weapon, and not a utilitarian knife. His uncle said it was a waste of money, and that Lin was a hopeless romantic for buying it. Well, perhaps he did harbor dreams of grandeur unbecoming a watchman''s son, but at least he knew how to use it properly.


    The monster didn''t interfere with Lin''s actions, but readied itself as well. It shifted its stance to a half-crouch and held its club up high with both hands.


    Lin made the first move. He charged, and thrusted his staff. The enemy was ready, dodging and bringing the club down. But the thrust was a feint; Lin dropped his polearm and slashed at his now-unbalanced foe. Unfortunately, since left was his off-hand he couldn''t control it as well, and the glancing blow was turned away by the furs.


    The melee was fierce, with both combatants emphasizing attack over defence. Several punches and kicks were exchanged, but no debilitating injuries were inflicted.


    Then Lin tripped on the pole he''d dropped.


    He''d messed up again. His uncle was right, he was a fool after all. Lin could hear him cursing now -


    "Goddammit boy!" The monster which was poised to finish Lin was knocked over. Alaric pinned it to the floor with his own ratting pole and body mass.


    "Don''t just sit there!" Lin had been stunned by the sudden reprieve, but snapped out of it. With his uncle holding it down, the monster was killed quickly.


    ---------


    In the end, Wendelin''s rash action had only made things worse. Alaric had to expend a significant amount of Spirit in order to move with a torn muscle, weakening his resistance to the poison.


    Lin needed somewhere safe to put down his uncle, who was already beginning to drift out of consciousness. He found an odd alcove, it looked inhabited. Maybe a dwarf hermit?


    ...Dwarven healthcare had a terrible reputation. "Marginally Better than Death", they called it. Not that it really mattered; there wasn''t time to wait for help.


    Still, the room looked cleaner and felt safer than most tunnels, even if the ceiling was low. Lin gently rested his uncle against the wall.


    "Just leave me, you foolish boy." His uncle wheezed. Wendelin paused to reflect for a moment. "...Yes, uncle, I''m definitely a fool. I foolishly ignored your advice and got you into this mess; now let me foolishly do it again to get you out."


    Lin said that, but in truth he didn''t think it''d work either. Alaric said nothing more, though. Perhaps he had realized that clinging to that false hope was keeping his nephew from collapsing under the stress.


    This would a hard lesson, but a necessary one. Wendelin would finally get a taste of fortune''s cruelness to put some reality in his life. Alaric was ready to accept this end; he was rather lucky to have lived this long after all.


    Lin, however, still wasn''t giving up. He decided to take this opportunity to redress Alaric''s wound. After cutting the mess of bloody bandages and clothing off, the wound could be seen to be blackened and seeping pus.


    The room had a basin full of clear water at one end. A nearby cup had an odd, leathery bottom to it, but held liquids just fine.


    Lin started to wash the wound, but spilled all over the floor when something unexpected happened.


    This was no ordinary water!


    Lin sniffed his cup. Just a hint of ozone... He cautiously gave its contents a taste. Sweeter than any he''d drunk before; like he imagined mountain spring to be.


    Alaric didn''t seem to be in any pain, continuing to rest on the wall with his eyes closed. So Lin tried cleaning the wound again, this time taking care to watch what would happen.


    The water bubbled and steamed at contact with the pus. It was cleansing the poison!


    Lin instantly refilled the cup and brought it to his uncle''s lips, shaking him awake. "Here, Uncle, drink this." Alaric only mumbled weakly in return. "Don'' waste... n''me..."


    Lin had to pour the water down the throat of his uncle, who thankfully did not choke. He did the same with a second cup, leaving the small basin nearly empty.


    The remaining water was used to dampen fresh cloth for a bandage. (Well, cloth as fresh as a strip of torn clothing could be, at least.)


    "Where are we?" Alaric was apparently feeling better already. "We''re still in the tunnels, uncle. I found some water that cured you."


    "Cure- What?" Alaric looked to where Lin was pointing. He''d been sweeping these tunnels for nearly 30 years, but he''d never seen that carving before. And was the water source... Glowing?


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Alaric''s perception was honed through decades of experience, but now he sensed a sort of unworldly presence he couldn''t explain...


    Not until he remembered the stories his grandfather used to tell him.


    "A land spirit..." Alaric whispered with awe - the kind born as much out of fear as of wonder.


    "What''s that, uncle?" Lin had never heard those stories; the Old Ways were dying out even in his great-grandfather''s day. He didn''t know what danger they were in.


    "The spirit of this room has graciously worked a healing magic! We need to show our utmost respect for it." Alaric wanted to ask if the spirit had shown any sign of what it desired in return, but to utter something so presumptuous in the spirit''s presence was folly.


    There was stone slab near the carving... It looked like the new monsters paid their respects to the spirit as well. Alaric sincerely hoped that this it was of the kind which didn''t care about having worshippers.


    He searched himself for something he could leave as an offering. His lantern was the most valuable thing on him, and he also had a stick of incense he could light. (It was useful for laying trails in the still underground air, and sometimes a noble brat would want to go on an ''adventure'' without having to take in all the sights and smells that entails.)


    He placed both upon the crude altar and kneeled (not that there was room to stand in the first place). "Erm... Benevolent Daughter, we thank thee for thy mercy." Alaric was neither a pious nor loquacious man, but he did his best.


    But though he meant every word, Alaric had no intention of staying any longer than necessary. The pain in his leg had already reduced to tolerable levels, so he shuffled back into the main tunnel.


    Lin followed behind him, but before leaving drew his dagger and formally presented it. "I swear I shall repay this kindness."


    ---------


    With Alaric having lost his bearings, there was a serious chance of becoming lost in the sewers. Thankfully it didn''t come to that, as the pair soon came across a heavy wooden door of the style commonly used to link cellars with the tunnels under the city.


    Lin knocked as hard as he could. "Is anyone in there?" There was a bit of a surprised noise, then a gruff middle-aged man opened a small panel in the door. "Who goes there?"


    "The sewer sweep Alaric and his nephew Wendelin, sir. Can we please come in? We''re wounded."


    "''Aight, hang on; lemme grab a couple of the regulars first." This suspicion was warranted: the tunnels were a notorious pathway for thieves and conning someone into opening the door for a hidden pack of brigands was not unheard of.


    The first man came back with three more strong types before allowing the sweeps in. The walls of the cellar were stacked with kegs, and it was cramped with six people in such a small space.


    "Tank you, sirs. Could you mind telling us where we are?" Lin asked one of the men. "Why, you''re Beneath the Roasted Boar!" One replied with a grin. Alaric, who''d been keeping quiet to play up his injury and avoid unwanted attention, suddenly spoke up. "Beneath the... You mean the famous mercenary''s bar in the wagon district?!" "The very same!" The mercenaries beamed with pride at mention of the word ''famous''.


    Alaric simply muttered, half to himself: "...How in the world did we end up all the way over here?"


    ---------


    Arc had watched the men through a crack in the hidden door to his sleeping chamber. Although if he''d been given the choice, he would have preferred to have taken Kat and fled before they''d arrived.


    Come to think of it, weren''t they in the process of retracing their steps back to the surface? That path shouldn''t have taken them by the shrine.


    The obvious answer was that Kat did something. Warped their sense of direction... And/or space itself. Arc had realized that the humans couldn''t see Power the way he could after the younger one was surprised that the water with a silver aura reacted to the pus with a vomit-brown aura, so they probably wouldn''t have any way of noticing until after the fact.


    {Arc can come out now, safe.} He left his refuge and walked over to Kat''s alcove. He picked her body out of the water, wanting to be able to glare directly at her this time.


    "Kat, why did you heal that man?" {Dead cannot learn.} "We don''t need to teach the dead how to stay away." {That, not the lesson.} "Kat, he was an enemy." {Not enemy. Duty, not to harm Kat. Nor selfish ambition, Kat sensed.}


    Arc sighed, pinching his brow with his free hand. Even if Kat could sense people''s intentions, there should still be a limit to her naivete.


    "Still, what if you''d read them wrong? Or what if they had done something unexpected? That was still risk involved." {No risk. Few unacceptable outcomes of superposition, excluded from collapse.} "Unacceptable outcomes?" {...Arc found, hurt, most common.}


    Right. Sometime Arc forgot that she didn''t perceive time and causality the same way he did. He still wasn''t clear on the details, but he did know that when she did stuff like this, it wasn''t free.


    "Still... It was a waste of Power. And we''re already in debt..." {Outstanding negative-causal loops, resolved. Current power surplus.} "What?! How?" From what he''d gathered, it should have taken weeks at the current rate to pay that off.


    {External Observer''s experience objectified portions of dungeon existence, releasing Power in maintenance of fudge state. Additional Power gained from opening of new positive-causal feedback loop.}


    Okay... Arc attempted to translate that into simpler terms. First, Kat implied that there was Power currently tied up in maintaining the dungeon in some metaphysical way. But when the humans came down and ''observed'' it, part of that Power was no longer necessary, and thus was now available for use.


    As for the ''positive-causal feedback loop''... Arc could only guess it had something to do with that mint-green mist which settled around that last human, just before he left.


    "I guess then... Another way to look at it was that they helped us, and you rewarded them for it? But not necessarily in chronological order..."


    Arc was getting a splitting headache from this. It ran completely opposite to how dungeons were supposed to work! The treasure was bait to lure people in. The reward offered first, then the ''service'' taken by force... Wasn''t this effectively the same thing, minus the deception?


    Maybe that''s what he... What he... What he what?


    He couldn''t remember. This migraine felt like someone had literally drilled a hole in his head.

 [4.1] + KNOWLEDGE +

    Arc examined the broken beam, removing a splinter with his flint tool. The rot was only surface deep, implying that decay was not the culprit behind this building''s collapse.


    Subsequent investigations showed some char, but not much. It was possible that a small fire weakened a critical load-bearing column, and was snuffed out when the roof came tumbling down on top of it... Though that wouldn''t account for the total extent of this ruination.


    It looked almost like a sloppy job with a wrecking ball... Maybe the structure was condemned after the fire? But why bother, if they''re not going to build something new on the site? Not to mention, he''d seen no evidence that the surface dwellers had that sort of technology.


    The waning moon had risen a fair ways above the horizon; the sun would not be far behind. Soon, the minions would have to retreat back underground. Arc had been hoping that this expedition would have be more fruitful than this... He had a grim premonition that this may be the last opportunity to visit the surface in relative safety.


    With much effort, he''d managed to coax the minions into installing a climbing rope in to the pipe Kat had fallen from. They''d actually made a living scaffold when installing the pinions! It was surprisingly sturdy, too... Possibly due to the influence of the dungeon, which had started to grow much more rapidly after that incident the other day.


    The top of the shaft had been clogged with debris, mostly wooden, but the minions cleared it with ease. Arc wanted to save some of that valuable material, but in the end he''d judged it a waste of effort and let the minions carry it off to wherever.


    The shaft appeared to have once been a well, in the courtyard of a ruined building. The main materials seem to have been wood and plaster, although the outer walls were stone. The footprint was fairly large, even by the surface-dwellers'' standard.


    The minion excavation team had found nothing of note in these ruins other than some broken statues (one of which may have matched Kat''s icon) after over half a night of searching, though. The site had probably been picked clean of valuables by earlier scavengers.


    Arc was about to start extracting his team when Scrooge suddenly rushed over. "Boss, thing finden!" "Show me."


    A small tem of eager minions had uncovered some sort of furniture - maybe a dresser or cabinet, it was hard to say with it still half-buried face-down. Unfortunately, it would take too long to return it to its upright position, so Arc begrudgingly gave the order.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Open it."


    A pair of minions started hacking the exposed backside with adze-like toolheads. It was a seamless wooden panel: promising, since that would have helped keep water away from its contents.


    As soon as the hole was big enough, one of the minions reached inside and pulled something out... "Scribblies!" it cried, raising its prize aloft in triumph.


    A book! Undeniably a priceless treasure, even if Arc couldn''t read it himself. However, he had already made plan for this eventuality: he''d ask Kat to scan the contents and translate as best she could.


    A few more books came out of the broken shelf, and then another valuable commodity: chalk. That would be so much more convenient for marking the walls with than paint. There was also a slate to go with it, and an abacus as well.


    Arc didn''t trust the minions not to break anything, so he had everything be piled up in one place where he could watch it. He idly opened one of the books, regretting the fact that Kat probably wouldn''t be able to teach him the language properly. After all, she could only read the meaning behind a symbol, and most books aren''t meant to convey knowledge of the language itself.


    ...Wait.


    The page he was looking at was dominated by a single rune as big as his hand. The page opposite had a simple yet colorful painting of some domestic animals grazing in an open field. There were only a couple lines of characters along the bottom of the pages, with generous usage of whitespace.


    Arc flipped through the pages, and they were almost all like this. What he held in his hands was most likely a text intended to teach children about the alphabet!


    Arc was dumbstruck, not only because he couldn''t believe his luck, but because he hadn''t expected local human culture to be one that believed in common literacy. And maybe it still wasn''t... These ruins didn''t look like they were that of a common household.

 [4.2] = What is a Dungeon? = (v1.1)

    In ancient times, the last five of the Great Wizards gathered in council. Their secrets had been stolen, their servants in open rebellion, and their power waning. They had already agreed that it was time to leave this world behind and ascend, but the question remained: what should be done with their vast material wealth?


    The White Wizard said: "We should leave it for the mortals of this world."


    The Black Wizard said: "Only the worthy may claim it."


    The Red Wizard said: "They must be strong."


    The Blue Wizard said: "They must be wise."


    The Green Wizard said: "They must be daring."


    And so the wizards wove a spell that cast their millennia-old collections of gold, jewels, artifacts and other treasures into the aether, whence it may find its way into the dangerous and forgotten corners of the world.


    Thus were sown the seeds of dungeons.


    A dungeon is a place between this world and the realms from which magic stems. Within them lies great wealth, but only for those brave and skilled enough to conquer its hazards.


    Clever riddles, tricky puzzles, sneaky traps and dangerous obstacles are built into most dungeons, but by far the most common threat is that of monsters.


    Monsters are attracted to dungeons because of the higher amounts of magic; growing, breeding, and spawning within its depths. They are instinctively drawn to guard a dungeon''s treasures and drive out intruders.


    The Heroes of old divided monsters into two categories: bosses and mobs.


    Bosses are unique monsters that fill special roles in a dungeon''s ecology, such as a leader or apex predator. Bosses are usually deadly threats that take large or highly-skilled teams to take down, and attempts without casualties are rare. Often a boss will have a soul stone or summoning rune that will allow it to eventually respawn if not taken from the dungeon or destroyed. However, these are usually difficult to find, and often impossible without special anti-dungeon magic.


    Mobs fill out the bulk of a dungeon''s monsters. Unlike bosses, they are not unique, which makes them easy for the dungeon to replace. They usually travel in groups, hence the term ''mob''. Although, some stronger mobs may travel alone. If a lone mob is much stronger than all of the other mobs in the same area, then it is sometimes called a ''miniboss''.


    Although monsters are generally seen as guards for a dungeon''s treasure, they are sometimes valuable in and of themselves. A monster may have tough hide, hard claws, medicinal properties, or maybe just tasty meat! In the golden days of the Hegemony, some monsters were even tamed as pets or warbeasts.


    But of course, the most sought-after treasures are gold and jewels. Even in dungeons, these are rare. More common in dungeons are baser metals, or semiprecious stones.


    These materials usually "grow" on or in the walls of a dungeon in deposits, nodes, or crystals. However, sometimes they are found in refined forms, be it coins, bars or blocks, in chests, caches, or hoards, alongside other finished goods.


    The most ubiquitous metal is iron, but iron requires significant refining and is difficult to work with, so much is left behind. Second is copper, which is easy to work with and thus always in demand. However, copper requires the first rare metal, tin, to make stronger alloys.


    Next comes precious silver. Alchemists have identified four varieties, naming them after the phases of the moon. Most silver is of the ''waxing'' variety, or the ''new'' variety (more commonly called lead). Silver has many mystical properties associated with it, and is the main standards of trade for human society.


    Only after all of these comes the king of all metal, gold. Gold is the easiest of all metals to work with, and widely considered the most beautiful. Like silver, it has magical properties, although common superstition states dungeon gold carries curses with it.


    In terms of stone, the majority is built into the walls of the dungeon itself. However, often large formations of special stones similar form. Many of these varieties are soft and can be carved; others are hard and can be cut like gems.


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    The one thing all these stones have in common is a magical nature. Unless stored in a special way, they slowly become harder, more brittle, and more unworkable. Most varieties will eventually become normal stone, some even crumble to dust.


    These magic stones are highly valued by alchemists and craftsmen for their incredible array of useful properties. It is said the right magic stone can do anything, from curing leather quicker to reversing the effects of old age.


    Raw materials are not the only treasures, though. Dungeon goods are extremely varied, but almost always valuable or useful. They are typically found in chests behind bosses or obstacles. Powerful magical artifacts are sometimes found as well.


    Unlike the items produced by Dwarves, magic from a dungeon cannot easily be bought ot sold. If possession of an item is transferred to someone who did not truly earn it, then its power will be diminished. It is for this reason that those who find equipment in a dungeon will usually keep it for themselves or trade it to a compatriot, rather than selling it off to a rich noble.


    In a dungeon, magic saturates the very fabric of reality, making powerful spells easier. Many normally impossible feats become are no longer so in a dungeon, the most famous of which is the resurrection of the fallen. Sometimes a would-be wizard will take up residence in a dungeon in hopes of exploiting its power. Most die to their own foolishness,but a rare fewmanage to achieve a measure of control. They become the Dungeon Masters; the most powerful and dangerous entities since the age of Wizards. Many a tale of heroism is told of the valliant warriors who defeated the Master who threatened a kingdom.


    It is said that those who conquer a dungeon''s challenge are permanently endowed with a portion of its power. By the Hegemony''s end, tales of single men who could match the strength of twenty, run faster than a horse, or take a leisurely stroll through an inferno were common. Never since the time of the Wizard-kings had one mortal been invested with such power.


    However, the days of heroes conquering dungeons is now in the past.


    At the Hegemony''s zenith, thousands of people made their living dungeon-delving at dozens of sites across the land. Vast riches poured out of the dungeons, and magic was applied to make everyday life a utopia for the masses. Heroes were trained in academies at every kingdom''s capitol, men and women who specialized in fighting monsters, exploring dungeons and keeping the peace. But it would not last.


    Eventually, the dungeons became exhausted, one by one. The sources of metal and magic components the Hegemony had relied upon were disappearing, and resources became scarce. A discontent populace led to strife in the government, and ''heroes'' left with no purpose began to advance more worldly ambitions.


    It was the end of the Hegemony, and the era of Dungeons. No new dungeon site has been confirmed for over a century now.


    But, who knows? The loss of a million souls in the bloody civil wars and the following large-scale migrations have led to a lot of previously civilized land being abandoned. One day, a new dungeon may form in the depths of the wilderness, to slowly grow until some brave explorer discovers it.


    Perhaps, that person will be you?


    ---------


    {Kat feels like... Read this before, contents already known.} "Hmm..." Only getting these tiny slivers of clues to Kat''s origin was very frustrating, so Arc immediately changed the subject.


    "Well... Have you sensed any of this ''treasure in the aether'' they spoke of?" {No, none. Infinite potential in vast nothingness, but concrete material impossible.} Meaning, either it''s all gone, or it never existed in the first place.


    Seeing as the book was also mistaken about lead being a form of silver, the truth was probably the latter.<input class="spoilerButton" type="button" value="Show">

 [4.3] = An Introduction to Magic = (v1.1)

    All public magical knowledge is descended from the teachings of Erud¨ªr Polios the Wise, last of the Wizard-Kings, who willingly relinquished power by sharing his secrets with mortals.


    While but a shadow of the powerful sorceries of the past, modern magic is much safer and less destructive to the fabric of reality. Other schools of thought exist, but most are forbidden for good reason.


    The most famous record Polios wrote is without a doubt The Rule of Primes, required reading for any aspiring mage.


    ---------


    The Rule of Naught:


    Magic is Nothing. It comes from the Void, and ever returns to Oblivion. It is the shadow cast by a flame, the far side of the moon, the world in the mirror. It can be neither seen nor known, for it does not truly exist. Magic abhors Reality, for it is of the Unreal.


    The Rule of One:


    The practice of true magic cannot be taught; it is unique to the individual and must be learned through experience. Moreover: knowledge beyond the ken of others is a source of power over them. To become powerful is to be isolated - with magic, the converse is also true. Seeking power, I and others like me cloistered ourselves from the world, yet remained linked to it through the reverence of others. This led to hubris, as wizards began to act like kings and then gods. Let none ever again follow in our footsteps.


    The Rule of Two:


    To put magic to use is to exploit the dichotomy of self and other. It is to allow the self to affect the other, or forbid the other from affecting the self. Hence comes the Higher Order Charges: that of Light and Darkness. It is important to remember that these do not mean ''good'' and ''evil'', despite what a certain theologian may tell you. Light magic attends to the other above the self, while Dark magic attends to the self above the other. They are opposites, but do not negate each other. Sometimes they can be expressed in a counter-intuitive manner: in the past I have woven both Light spells which force one''s will to submit to that of another, and Dark spells that reverse the effects of the passage of time.


    The Rule of Three:


    The three primary elements are Fire, Earth, and Wind. The three physical constraints are Force, Matter, and Motion. The three sources of power are Desire, Authority, and Discipline. Three is the number of the Lower Order Charges, and I refer to them as Red, Green, and Blue. Their relationship is complex enough for each to deserve its own dissertation, yet one may simply think of them as representing transient values, enduring values, and adaptive nature.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The Rule of Five:


    Two and Three make Five, the combined order of charges. After Red, Blue and Green, Light And Darkness are cast to White and Black. The Five Charges of magic, and the Five Attributes allowing mortals: Spirit, Will, Wit; Faith, and Conatus. These five qualities describe one''s state of mind, and allow one to channel magic Power. The most blatant way is to use an incantation, prayer, or mantra to sculpt the mind in a specific manner for a desired effect, but such a method is only an aid at best. True magic is often done instinctively at a low level by the masters of any given art.


    The Rule of Seven:


    Seven Elements - Fire, Earth, Wind, Water; Acid, Lightning, Frost. Seven Metals - Iron, Copper, Silver, Gold; Bismuth, Tin, Mercury. Seven Virtues, Seven Sins: Seven Mysteries I leave behind for mortal men to puzzle.


    ---------


    The works of Polios were subsequently built upon by Hegemony mages and scholars. Magus Suliac Parmen developed the theory linking the three Charges in the Lower Order of Nature to the seven elements, each paralleling an Abstract Class of spells with either Light or Dark forms.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Red</td>


    <td>Green</td>


    <td>Blue</td>


    <td>Element</td>


    <td>Abstract Class</td>


    <td>Light Form</td>


    <td>Dark Form</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>X</td>


    <td>-</td>


    <td>-</td>


    <td>Fire</td>


    <td>Heart</td>


    <td>Charm</td>


    <td>Fury</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>-</td>


    <td>X</td>


    <td>-</td>


    <td>Earth</td>


    <td>Soul</td>


    <td>Oath</td>


    <td>Contempt</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>-</td>


    <td>-</td>


    <td>X</td>


    <td>Wind</td>


    <td>Thought</td>


    <td>Insight</td>


    <td>Delusion</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>X</td>


    <td>X</td>


    <td>X</td>


    <td>Water</td>


    <td>Essence</td>


    <td>Purification</td>


    <td>Transmution</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>X</td>


    <td>X</td>


    <td>-</td>


    <td>Alkahest(Acid)</td>


    <td>Life</td>


    <td>Entropy</td>


    <td>Regression</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>X</td>


    <td>-</td>


    <td>X</td>


    <td>Lightning</td>


    <td>Paradox</td>


    <td>Doom</td>


    <td>Chaos</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>-</td>


    <td>X</td>


    <td>X</td>


    <td>Frost</td>


    <td>Spacetime</td>


    <td>Stasis</td>


    <td>Warp</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    These teachings became the official doctrine of the Mage''s guild, and are subsequently very widespread, even decades after its libraries went up in flames.


    ---------


    {Inaccurate, erroneous, incomplete... Yet not untrue.} "I guess it wouldn''t be the first time an ancient scholar whose words are beyond question got it wrong." {Maybe. Kat senses faint echo of oldest words. Reflected, distorted, but not gone. Intent of a great... Deception.}


    "You mean- Polios deliberately wrote only half the truth?!" {Possible. Meaning fogged by time; Kat can only sense at all due to high Power at source.} "In that case, he may have been far wiser than anyone gave him credit for..."

 [4.4] = A Travellers Guide to the Races =

    Lay Men:


    The term "Lay Men" refers to the common folk of the land, most likely including the reader. They are tall and thin, possessing of relatively hairless bodies and poor night vision. They have both short canines and molars, suitable for a variety of prepared foods. Their allotted time is half a century barring tragedy, and each family typically has between three and seven children.


    Lay Men are the strongest and toughest of the races, due to their great mass. Their warriors are powerful, and in battle their knights wield long swords and ride great warhorses to take advantage of this. The greatest Heroes of the Hegemony almost always originated among the Lay Men.


    However, the Lay Men are also the most divided of races. Nobles even of the same blood constantly fight and bicker, and enforce the laws of the land only when convenient. Beware when travelling through the less-regulated areas, lest one be easy prey for thieves, bandits, or brigands.


    Dwarves:


    Dwarves, sometimes called gnomes or halflings, are perhaps the most well-known of other races. They are famed for their ability to work magic and create artifacts, but also for their irrational mood swings and obsessive behavior.


    True to their name, dwarves are characterized by their shortness. However, a dwarf never thinks small. When a dwarf makes or does something, they focus exclusively on the broad strokes, leaving "minor details" to "work themselves out". If not for a dwarf''s extreme propensity for accidents, most would probably live to see 200. Contrary to what one may expect, Dwarves are in fact fast breeders and quick to mature - it''s just that most die young fighting the monsters that share their subterranean realm.


    Dwarves prefer to live underground, and those who make their living on the surface (such as farmers or huntsmen) make burrows for their kind. Although, such "Hill Dwarves" a minority; the mainstay of dwarven society lives in the underworld, where a variety of strange flora and fauna substitute for surface ecology.


    The reason Dwarves are so well-known is because of their continuous interactions with the lay men. Due to their focus on complexity, many dwarves are enamoured by the natural world, and the surface seems exotic to them. Any visitor to one of their holds should be prepared to answer an endless barrage of seemingly trivial (and occasionally absurd) questions.


    The dwarves regularly import food and beasts from the surface, but typically the demand for food is met fully by the lords of the local farmland. Unless a traveller is carrying preserved delicacies from afar, he would do better to bring the remains of a rare or dangerous creature met on earlier travels.


    The bones or hide of a monster can be made into an impressive work of art or even an artifact, especially if accompanied by a good telling of how it met its demise. A dwarven craftsman will typically offer a choice between paying the deliverer for the materials and gifting him the finished product in exchange for a commission fee; accept the latter only if one intends to keep it for oneself. These days, the rich are usually too ignorant to distinguish genuine dwarf work from the frauds.


    If one is not adverse to a touch of smuggling, precious stones and metals are almost always in demand. However, as most surface deposits have been depleted, exporting them is heavily restricted or even forbidden. Gold is a classic example, as it is highly prized and hoarded by dwarves.


    Why dwarves covet gold so much is a subject of much debate, but the practice of biting a gold coin to test its purity has lead to widespread rumors that they simply eat it. More rational minds point out the importance of gold in the dwarven economy. Dwarven holds are generally communes in which the government enjoys an enforced monopoly on alcohol, and gold coins are used as tokens of exchange as payment for labor later reimbursed for booze.


    A dwarf traveller is likely to be an adventurer or thrill-seeker; abroad out of desire and not necessity. They will work according their passions; the most famous of which is the path of the mercenary.


    The stereotype may be for a dwarf to wield an axe, sledge or pick into battle, but this is rarely true for a veteran warrior. Dwarves have less leverage than taller folk, and usually have a smaller range of freedom in their joints, so weapons requiring a swinging motion are much less powerful in their hands. Generally, an expert dwarven fighter will attempt to ambush the enemy from concealed trenchwork with crossbows, knives, and vicious poisons. They sometimes form teams with pikes and large shields, but do poorly in open battles. If a dwarf is wielding something that looks like a tool, that''s because it''s probably intended to be used as a tool. That, or its a novelty weapon intended to make a fight more ''interesting''.


    Besides for mercenaries, dwarf travellers can be divided into two rough groupings: wandering experts, and unskilled migrants. Experts are, like the name suggests, masters of a specific craft. When travelling, they generally carry little wealth, living off the land and practicing their vocation for paltry sums. Though bot always easy to befriend, they make for great travelling companions. The unskilled, on the other hand, often na?vely spread their wealth. A kind traveller will do their best to show them their way; a more cunning one will be generously compensated for helping them to "see the sights".


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    Wild Men


    The term "Wild Men" is somewhat of a misnomer, for while they often live in otherwise inhospitable wilderness, they are anything but savages. That isn''t to say they can''t be brutal, however; it would be wise to take great care not to offend them.


    Wild Men are a bit shorter than lay men, but are more muscular and possess a great deal of hair all over their bodies. Some may also have tusks or other animalistic features, depending on the tribe. A natural lifespan can be anywhere from thirty to eighty years, stretching on longer the more ''enlightened'' one becomes. They are slightly more fertile than Lay Men, but their females are less common.


    A Wild Man''s digestive system cannot handle starchy foods such as grains or tubers, and their bodies require a diet rich in protein and fat. Therefore, Wild Men generally do not rely on farming for sustenance. Instead, the Wild Men hunt and herd beasts for their food.


    Wild men would generally prefer a nomadic lifestyle, anyways. Wild man culture revolves heavily around their philosophical traditions. They value martial prowess, but despise mindless violence. They are generally peaceful unless provoked, or when their population exceeds their food supply. When they fight, they will often suddenly withdraw once they feel the point has been made or their goals achieved - even if they were the ones to have ''lost''. A wise man will not press any further, and act as if nothing had happened.


    Though slow to anger, wild men have many rules that must be followed when one is their guest. If any are violated, being executed on the spot is never out of the question. A duel is considered a chance for redemption; do not waste it. Whatever the punishment, enduring it stoically may impress the wild men enough to reduce the sentence; but continue to act humble afterwords. It is expected that those granted reprieve will show their gratitude through actions, not words.


    Politely decline to attend any ceremonies, especially funerals or celebrations of victory in battle. If one does foolishly accept, one should not back out no matter what - the only recourse is to partake heavily the Wild Mens'' spirits in the hopes of falling unconscious.


    The majority of Wild Men live in the distant east, in vast yet scarcely populated lands ruled by khans or czars. However, several small populations live in forests across the west. Some cities in the south have both Wildmen and less hairy folk living side-by-side.


    Wild Men have an innate affinity for nature magic, especially when dealing with magical beasts. They can calm monsters, attract helpful spirits, and even find safe paths through a magic-corrupted wilderness. When it comes to scouts and guides, the Wild Men are second to none.


    Demihumans


    Though now mostly extinct, and technically never a proper race to begin with, the Demihumans deserve a note here due to historical significance.


    Demihumans were the products of heretical magic experiments performed during the Age of Wizards. The Wizards mixed the blood of mortals with that of Daemons and whatever else struck their fancy in the hopes of creating "better" men. Those that didn''t devolve into horrendous abominations became the Wizards'' foremost servants, or favored pets in some cases.


    A Demihuman is generally taller, stronger, faster, longer-lived etc. than the average of the race they were mutated from; however, they paid for this with increased food requirements, less fertility, and a reliance on magic. Additionally, the hair, eyes and rarely skin may be of an unnatural hue.


    The most common and stable class of Demihuman was the so-called "High Man". The High Men were based off of Lay Men, to which they bore a strong resemblance. The most common difference was the ears, which were often long and pointed. During the Great Rebellion, the majority of High Men fought for the Wizards and were killed, although those few who aided mortals helped to form what would eventually become the Hegemony.


    The second most common category would have been Demihumans with animal characteristics. Some were bred for war, took advantage of their Daemonic heritage to assume forms neither man nor beast, but a vast number of Demihumans with more... "Cosmetic" enhancements were created by the infamous Sam the Perverted.


    The relative numbers of Demihumans declined over centuries after the Wizards'' fall, due to decreases in ambient magic levels and interbreeding with humans. The civil wars which ended the Hegemony shattered what few remaining villages of Demihumans remained, and none are believed to survive to this day.

 [4.5] = Beings of Chaos - A Primer Thereon =

    Since time immemorial, mankind has been haunted by the spectre of the unknown. In the wilderness stalk dangerous beasts, from the sky come the unfathomable forces of nature, at night the darkness swallows everything. These forbidden zones have one thing in common: the presence of Magic.


    Magic corrupts the wildernesses beyond the edges civilization; a dark legacy of the Sorcerer''s Wars nearly two thousand years ago. In recent times, these frontiers have been pushed ever farther backwards in accordance to the Hegemony''s growth. The majority of scholars attribute this to the efforts of the Hero''s Guild and the clergy to cleanse the land, some believe expansion is mankind''s destiny and the Divine Architect is paving the way, while a few radicals suggest that modern society''s over-reliance on magic is depleting the ambient magical energy of the world.


    In a magically-saturated area, reality itself is as ephemeral as a dream. Any sense of permanency is lost as what may be in one''s vision one moment may vanish the instant one''s head is turned, or what did not previously exist suddenly appears.


    Living entities which emerge from this chaos, invading more stable environs, are usually called monsters.


    The term "Monster" is rather ambiguous, and its rise into common use is attributed to mankind''s collective lack of interest in the abnormal beyond determining if it is a threat. What most people consider to be "monsters" are known as "magical beasts" by the academic community. They are living creatures, just like any other, but with a higher magical resonance than usual.


    As even domestic beasts have some resonance with magic, the exact threshold of when a beast could be considered "magical" is hotly contested. In fact, as a highly successful magical beast usually integrates into the normal biosphere, most academic authorities believe that all life originated in this way: the Theory of Echaorum. However, most religious folk take issue with the notion that all life as we know it spontaneously formed from the void, refusing to let go of their dogma, which states that the current reality is the result of the long-term cumulation of minor changes and iterative development.


    The one thing that practically all such chaos spawn have in common is a particular affinity for the element of Darkness. Lacking such, they would possess no instinct to improve or preserve the self, and thus would not seek to exist in true reality. However, since they themselves are of a magical nature, they can never truly escape the chaos from which they were born.


    Magical Beasts each drag a little bit Unreality with them. This fact has lead to a major schism in opinions. The Church''s Orthodoxy states that Chaos is accounted for in the Grand Design and is thus officially neutral, but most Heterodox sects including the Idoloclasts believe them to be carriers of taint which must be expunged. The Old Ways describe magic as part of the natural balance of the universe, including monsters under that. The various Mages'' Magisters'' associations see magical creatures as curiosities to be conserved and/or studied. The Heroes'' Guild offers bounties only for varieties known to be dangerous, and, of course, the Abquaestors and Prefects care little for anything unrelated to revenue.


    ---------


    However, not all beings borne of chaos possess a physical nature.


    A Spirit is in many ways a monster''s opposite. Where a magical beast must fulfill its needs to perpetuate its existence, a spirit has no needs to begin with. Therefore, instead of a Dark element driving the desire for self-improvement, all known spirits possess a Light attribute predisposing them to interact with others. It is hypothesized that non Light-aligned spirits exist, but simply never touch the world as we know it.


    Spirits are alien and mysterious intellects: very little is known about them, even in this modern era of learning. Most act according simple patterns that strain the definition of the word "sentience", and even those which appear to possess an ego usually have "one-dimensional" personalities. Many philosophers question whether a spirit is even capable of changing its mindset: with no physical nature to provide continuity, doing so would be in every way identical to destroying the original and creating an entirely new spirit in its place.


    Spirits have a curious tendency to "imprint" themselves according to human concepts, the classic examples being a wayward spirit cast into the role of a primitive tribe''s deity, or a deceased loved one''s spectre. This pattern has been the root cause of nearly all religious strife throughout history.


    Some theologians maintain that as alien a being as a spirit cannot possibly empathize with humans, and thus even the seemingly benevolent examples are merely idly amusing themselves, and don''t actually care about people; others believe that such ''imprinted spirits'' actually are what they appear to be - a remnant of human souls given new life.


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    Whatever the truth, it remains a fact that wild spirits can be as harmful to mankind as any natural disaster, so every major religion today practices some form of control or guidance for them. Even in the most remote villages, one can usually find some sort of good luck charm or household shrine designed to ward off or placate mischievous spirits.


    Although a spirit has no physical presence per se, the ones with the most tangible effects on reality are focused around a specific object or location. The true purpose behind these foci is poorly understood, but it is useful when attempting to categorize a single spirit, or at least a collective or lineage of spirits with consistent behavior. Spirits with a narrowly-defined focus are far more likely to exhibit a comprehensible will than those without.


    Spirits can manipulate the magical power of the environment, especially near to their focus, in order to produce tangible effects on reality. This could be as subtle as changing the weather, or as blatant as puppeteering a man''s body. With enough power, they can even spawn servants in the form of monsters known as "Lesser Daemons", often called imps, sprites, elves, or goblins.


    ---------


    The term "Daemon" has been used for too many things, and daemons in general have long had an undeservedly poor reputation due to the demonkin and devils that served the Dark Lords in millennia past.


    Terms which have been used to refer to a subset of daemons in the past include ''fey'', ''dragon'', ''angel'', ''archon'', ''harpy'', ''gargoyle'', ''siren'', ''djinn'', and witch. The wide range of connotations for each of these terms will hopefully serve to demonstrate how inaccurate the public stereotype of daemons is, and how difficult formulating a precise definition is.


    In truth, daemons are a race like any other, even if they are rarely counted among the races of men. The difficulty in classifying them lies in their volatility of form.


    A daemon can shift its shape about as easily as a human might change their mood, political alignment, or demeanor. That is to say, some individuals can undergo drastic shifts at the drop of a hat, but meaningful change happens only slowly. One''s form might change involuntarily, while another might be able to skillfully adapt their outward appearance like a human might mask their true feelings.


    Practical research involving daemons has been forbidden by the church, on pain of death, but a few things are still known about their society. They prefer to live in the most magic-saturated areas of the world, either solitarily or in small groups. Group members typically are of the same gender, and align along both ideological and morphological lines.


    Individuals tend to have a ''primary'' form, usually humanoid but with exotic features such as wings, horns, tails, feathers, scales, etcetera. However, those which greedily seek to empower themselves often lose this form, adopting a more ''wyrm-like'' one as befits their obsession.


    A daemon almost never leaves its domain and enters the realm of mortals unless it desires something that magic cannot provide. An enduring yet erroneous myth that circulates around the Hero''s Guild tells of the "succubus" or "nymph" seeking to reproduce with ''worthy'' men... The so-called Heroes who repeat such drivel should bear in mind that there are far more tales out there of daemon seductresses who yank out one of their victims'' vital organs and eat it in front of them, then feed the leftover meat to their next target.


    ---------


    "So, I guess at least now we know what kind of being you are, Kat." {Others like Kat? Scary...} Arc couldn''t help but chuckle, having more than one Kat exist would be pretty scary. "Well, I don''t think we need to worry about it. From the sound of it, you''re an extremely rare specimen."


    But Arc was worried: not for Kat though, but for himself and the other minions. Did they classify as ''magical creatures'' or daemons? (The ''Lesser'' kind? Would that make the kind described by the book the ''Greater'' kind?) The distinction between those two was never really made clear. Did that imply it was common knowledge, something everyone should already know? Or was the original reason forgotten knowledge, something nobody knew?


    Or maybe, the author was just lazy.

 Status Update (+Schedule)

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

 [4.6] = Oral History =

    ¡°You see, lad, the old Hero''s Guild grew corrupt and arrogant. As they say, a crack in the keystone will ruin the mightiest arch. We mercenaries are all that''s left of their tradition.¡± The speaker was an older, well-rounded fellow. A polite person might say he past his prime, or had let himself go; a rude one would point out he probably never had a prime in the first place.


    Listening eagerly was the newest curiosity in the Roasted Boar, Wendalin. Normally the hardened mercenaries would never humour the wild boasting of a teenage boy, but they all saw how beat up he and his uncle were when they suddenly emerged from the cellar the other day. Lin, for his part, was more than willing to listen to his elders'' tales of the past... Even if they had to be ''sanitized'' a bit. Mercenaries generally weren''t the sort to worry about ''corrupting the young'', but Lin''s father was on the Guard.


    But Lin''s next question caught the man off-guard. ¡°So, Sir Jan, when will you teach me some Hero skills?¡± He couldn''t help but bear a surprised, yet slightly pained expression. ¡°Err...¡± Some of the other mercs chimed in ¡°Yeah, Sir Jan.¡± ¡°Why don''t you tell him the secret to your success? *snrk*¡± It was well-known that Jan had gotten lucky and struck it big when he was younger. He invested it in a few plots of land around the city, and now lived a comfortable, semi-retired life with a wife, and four children.


    ¡°Well, erm... It''s getting late today. Shouldn''t you go check on your uncle?¡± Thankfully, this redirection tactic worked on Lin. ¡°Oh, yeah! He''s been doing better. Dad called in a favour with a priest, and they say he''ll be able to walk again within a week. But that he probably shouldn''t go straight back to work, something about getting too old for this...¡±


    Lin looked a bit depressed at the thought, but a few of the mercenaries raised their eyebrows in interest. If the city''s best Sewer-sweep was retiring, at the same time a new monster appeared in the sewers, then the city was bound to need more hands to clear the sewers. There was no point in moving before a new bounty was posted, but it would pay to prepare ahead of time.


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


    ¡°Um, maybe I could round up a few of the boys to show you the ropes tomorrow?¡± Jan pretended to ignore the stink eye the others were throwing him. ¡°Really? That would be great!¡± The hasty promise seemed to have succeeded. ¡°Well then, I''ll see you later!¡±


    ---------


    Mark watched Lin leave with disdain. ¡°Damn lucky kid. He nearly gets his mentor killed, and now everyone''s fawning over him. We''re the ones who discovered these creatures, and what do we get?¡± Steve replied on cue, ¡°Stiffed, of course.¡± But his heart wasn''t really in it.


    ¡°Right. Instead of a solid contract, we get a token reward.¡± ¡±Mmhmm...¡± ¡°Can you believe it? Just twenty stinkin'' Rune per head. Not enough for even one good night on the town. Cheapskate couldn''t even round up to a full Scroll for us; the miserly bastard.¡±


    Surprisingly, Peter looked up from the sharpening of his blade to chide him. ¡°Ah, quit your griping. You sound like my father used to. Let the boy rest on his laurels, we''ll get our chance to show him what real men can do soon enough.¡± ¡°Since when did we make you the leader?¡± ¡°If you don''t like it, you don''t have to follow.¡±


    Mark backed down first; all he really wanted to do was complain out loud, he didn''t actually feel like doing something about it. He wasn''t the one with the vendetta, anyways.


    Peter took advantage of the pause to keep talking.


    ¡°We haven''t had a good scrap in months, but it sounds like soon there''ll be plenty to go around. And I, for one, intend to relish the challenge this time.¡±

 [5.1] + EXPANSION +

    When the tomes and other surface artifacts were brought into the dungeon, the scene had been similar to a triumphant army parading the spoils of war through its home city. Dozens rats were sent scurrying ahead of the procession like baying dogs, and curious minions flocked to see what the commotion was about. More minions than Arc even knew existed; the dungeon was becoming a very crowded place, indeed.


    Scrooge took the opportunity to let anyone who''d turn their head in his direction see his ¡°findluck¡±, a beat-up silver candelabra ¨C although not to touch it, of course. The way he was arrogantly acting as if the entire expedition had been his sole accomplishment, Arc was sorely tempted to sneak up behind him and whisper some profound yet unsettling advice.


    There really were a lot of minions, though. Dozens of them crowded the returning team, more than Arc even knew lived in the Dungeon. They followed them all the way back to the shrine room, and didn''t stop at the door.


    Arc clung to the wall wherein Kat''s gem lay hidden, futility trying to avoid the rising tide of minion bodies. ¡°This... It''s getting way too crowded! Kat, you''ve got to do something!¡±


    {Like... Enabling Minion Superposition?}


    Arc sighed; sometimes he forgot just how uncommon Kat''s sense was. Although this time he at least got an idea to file away for future use, for now she still needed to be walked through this. ¡°I was thinking like giving them more space first. Making the room bigger, for instance.¡±


    {Kat could do with a larger shrine... But warping space occupied by living beings is... Messy.} An image flashed across Arc''s mind, one he decided he''d very much not want to see become reality. ¡°Well, then you need to get them out of here first!¡± {Okay!}


    {Minions! Listen to Master!} Arc was starting to be able to tell the difference between Kat''s normal and ¡°shouting¡± voices. The latter seemed to resonate more with physical space, if that made any sense. Arc suspected it was something inherent to the ''Domain Kat'' keeps mentioning... One more question for a later date.


    All the minions ¨C well, most of the minions anyways ¨C immediately stopped their bickering and looked up. Some of the ones on the top of the pile started supplicating, but it appeared only a few were actually aware of Kat''s physical location. Arc was a bit thankful for that: since he was next to Kat, looking at her meant looking at him as well.


    {Master will read the retrieved texts, but later! Must make room first! Now, SHOO!}


    The minions scampered as fast as the limited space of the tunnels allowed. Arc had already guessed Kat''s speech didn''t involve any actual sound waves, but the fact that the rear of the mob didn''t block the front''s escape more or less confirmed it.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Only three minions remained: Arc, Rocky, and... Pantimus. The latter hadn''t been causing Arc much trouble lately, but he had assumed that was because of the pains he''d taken to avoid the ''Chief'' (as most minions respectfully referred to him). Now that the pecking order had been established in the Dungeon, Arc''s instincts weren''t screaming as loudly anymore, but Pantimus was still bigger than him.


    Much bigger now: it seemed the chief had undergone a bit of a growth spurt. (At least, Arc sincerely hoped he wasn''t the one to have shrunk!) He wasn''t as tall as Big Green, maybe a length and a quarter, but he was stockier. He definitely had stubby little horns now, too, although the undergarment on his head had been replaced with-


    Oh crap, was that laurel made of spider legs?!? Did spiders that big actually live in the Dungeon? Or maybe... Deeper. Arc realized he''d assumed any potential threat would come from the surface; he''d never considered something coming from below.


    Arc was actually grateful when Pantimus interrupted his thoughts this time.


    ¡°Thenso. What about, allthis?¡± The Chief was clearly impatient, and somehow was able to turn even crossing his arm and tapping his clawed feet into a threat. ¡°I could eviscerate you with both arms tied.¡±, it said.


    ¡°Holies bringwe, For Master.¡± It was Rocky who answered first. ¡°Scribblies abovefrom pastken have. Master Learn, Master Teach.¡± Arc quickly spoke next before he could lose his train of thought: ¡°Ka- err, Master wanted to know more about her origin. We found some books in a ruined building we think her, uh, Icon came from, and she was going to read them ¨C well, sort of read them aloud for us. Only the Shrine room''s too small to fit all the minions, so we need to make it bigger first.¡±


    Pantimus gave Arc a curious stare, perhaps unsure whether to mete out a punishment for the interruption, or a reward for having the chutzpah to do so. Frankly, Arc was as surprised as he was. He''d just suddenly started talking there... Did Kat do something again?


    After a short pause, Pantimus gave his judgment. ¡°For Master? Goodis. Tribute, workers and, bringwe willdo.¡± Arc felt relieved as the chief nodded in approval.


    But his heart suddenly skipped a beat as Pantimus kept speaking.


    ¡°Youfor Chief help but, mefor help youdo then.¡±

 [5.2] = New Direction (Part I) =

    A book hovered in the air above the new basin, carved directly from the rock in the newly-refurbished shrine. Its pages were flipping continuously, and as many minions sat on the floor like some diabolical mockery of a preschool story-time. If only minions could be made to take a nap afterwards (sometimes they did out of laziness, but never when you wanted them to).


    {And thus the unnamed Dwarf martyred himself by driving the Moon King''s flying chariot into the Temple of the Sun, ending the threat of two evil sorcerers at once. The First Hero promised never to forget his sacrifice, going on to free the Dwarven race from servitude, eventually allowing them to join the Hegemony as equals. But that is a story for another time.}


    A collective cry of ¡°Awww.....¡± came from the the crowd: even though they might not understand half the words, they were still sad the story was over. Even Arc had to admit, that was one of the more enjoyable tales.


    ¡°Too bad it''s probably made up. Well, more than the rest, anyways.¡± he thought aloud. {Not even the author believed this one, Arc, but Kat sees the faintest hint... That the truth have simply been too strange to believe in the first place.} Arc shrugged. ¡°I suppose we''ll never know¡±. {Actually... With enough power, Kat could-} ¡°Do something relevant to our needs.¡± Arc said with a stern voice. {Aw, Arc''s no fun!}


    He was still angry at her for wasting the Power she''d gained in the incursion. It wasn''t reshaping the room that did it; all she''d done there was to move the carving farther from the tunnel it connected to, narrowing the passageway to keep the overall volume the same. And then softening or reinforcing the surrounding earth and rock to help the minions excavate.


    From his understanding, using power in that way was like putting stress on a muscle: it''d be exhausted temporarily, but eventually could be used again so long as it wasn''t strained. By that analogy, what Kat did was remove some of her own muscle fibers to make an automatic door-closer.


    ---------


    ¡°Kat, where did your shrine go?¡± Arc was standing dumbstruck, staring at a patch of empty wall looking just like the two on either side of it. Kat''s reply was more impish than usual. {Behind... Arc!}


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Sure enough, he turned around, and there it was! The entrance to the shrine room. The new arched entryway large enough for a Human to pass through without ducking looked like part of the original design.


    ¡°...Hasn''t it always been on the other side of the tunnel?¡± Arc''s memory was usually very clear, but now he was starting to doubt himself. {Kind of. Sort of. Yes and no.} He felt the need to sit down for this one, but there weren''t any chairs in the sewer. So instead he leaned his back on the wall and knitted his brow before asking the inevitable question. ¡°Kat... What did you do?¡±


    {Kat saw an opportunity, invested Power to make shrine''s position objectively uncertain.}


    ¡°Invested... You mean to say, you permanently spent it.¡± {Kat merely closed the loop-} Arc raised his off hand and interrupted ¡°Just, how much did you spend.¡± {Arc knows Power is unquantifiable.} ¡°Qualitatively, then. How much, relative to the amount you gained from the incursion.¡±


    Kat didn''t respond immediately. Eventually, she reluctantly answered Arc''s question. {Most. Almost all.} Arc gave a heavy sigh. ¡°Kat...¡±


    However, this time it was Kat''s turn to interject. {But now intruders can''t reach the shrine unless Kat wants them to! Arc should be happy!}


    And indeed, he should be proud that Kat was being more independent, but Arc had perhaps forgotten that the Dungeon belonged to <u>Kat</u> in the end, and that he was a mentor or steward at best.


    He gave no reply, but after a minute of silence gathered the things he had dropped on the ground and wandered off. His hidden refuge had been one of the casualties of renovation, anyways.


    ---------


    Any hostility had faded by now, of course, but even the minions could sense that some tension remained. What they thought of one of their kind apparently arguing with their deity, none could say for certain. Rocky clearly frowned upon it, Pantimus held a more guarded expression, and Scrooge was too busy remorsefully ogling several of his ¡°blingies¡± that had been appropriated as decorations.


    Arc did his best to ignore all of them as he brought up the next tome for perusal. This one had a small lock on it, but it was easily picked. ¡°This should be the last one.¡± Arc said as he swapped it with the book that had just been finished.


    But Kat didn''t start narrating its contents like the ones from before. {Hmm... Kat can''t scan this easily. The words were supposed to be <u>secret</u>, so the meaning is hidden.} Arc grunted in frustration. ¡°It figures. That was probably a diary or journal, which would hold the next clue about your origin.¡±


    Rocky entered the conversation. ¡°Then this meeting, adjourned it is.¡± (He''d been making an effort to speak more like Arc and Kat.) Pantimus followed. ¡°Taskmine todo, gowe now.¡± (He, on the other hand, had made no such effort.)

 [5.3] = New Direction (Part II) =

    Kat had told Arc he needed to go along with Pantimus'' request. Besides for needing to maintain the latter''s loyalty, and perhaps wanting to get back at the former as well, Kat had said she didn''t sense any sort of malicious intentions.


    Arc reflected on how he would later explain to Kat that certain individuals didn''t need to premeditate harmful actions. For instance, shoving a conveniently-located (and conveniently-disposable) minion into a trap in order to demonstrate its effects.


    This was down deep beneath what Arc had thus far thought of as the Dungeon, in what was likely the bottom of the sewers. However, using a small crystal Kat had enchanted to glow inside her domain, Arc could see a little bit of her influence extended all the way down here, and it wasn''t decreasing as rapidly as it did approaching to the surface. It wasn''t enough to contact Kat just by calling her name, though.


    Anyways, the trap in question popped out a section of the tunnel wall''s facade to push its target into the brackish sewage channel (which was over six Lengths wide down here). It may have originally been intended to be non-lethal, but the poor victim this time was particularly short, and took the full force of the trap in his head. The concussion alone would have been enough to make him drown, but within seconds of entering the water he was covered in things that looked sort of like large leeches. There wasn''t that much light down here, and Arc wasn''t eager about getting a closer look.


    The leech-things weren''t the only natives of the lower sewers. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of long-legged flies darting along the slow-moving water. A few bird-like things that acted more like bats darted around, eating the flies ¨C and coming dangerously close to the water''s surface in the process. There was an entire ecosystem down here, and Arc wondered why he hadn''t seen this sort of biodiversity closer to the surface, where one would usually expect it. And although there were no spiders to be seen, the ones whose legs made up Pantimus'' new headwear would have been about the right size to eat those birds, and the smaller rats too.


    Speaking of Pantimus, he was about to tell Arc why the latter was brought down here in the first place. As soon as the minion he pushed stopped making noise; until then he merely looked on nonchalantly.


    ¡°Waydeep trapful are, any dumbkin seecan such. But, trap whereis, goodstuff is too! Worthlessnot brainykin youlike hereis, so methinks. <As you can see, there are traps down here. But where there are traps, there''s something worth protecting. I figured your brains would be useful here.>¡±


    Unfortunately, it was clear that Arc would have to be the one to adapt his speech this time. At least focusing on getting the weird syntax right kept his mind from wandering. ¡°So... Selflike this fixen, youwill Chief? <So... You want me to just go in there and disarm the the traps, by myself?>¡±


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    Pantimus gave a toothy grin, and gave an a-bit-too-friendly response: ¡°Funnykin! Selflike dothis, noneed thereis such, whatfor runtsis that! Minions with, brainyskill usefulmost then; you best knowthat should. Otherwise firstly methinks but, room holymost us workon when, thuswise mesee then. <No, you don''t need to do this personally. Although at first I thought differently, while we worked on the shrine expansion I observed that intellect is best put into effect by underlings; something you should know better than anyone.>¡±


    Arc could only blink for a couple of seconds: this was far more understanding than anything he''d expected from Pantimus. Perhaps he''d underestimated the chief''s intelligence. So, he assumed a thinking posture and looked at the problem with a more clinical detachment.


    Traps usually have a way to avoid or disable them built-in; and these should be no different. After all, why would the original builders (whomever they were) spend the effort to install complex machinery instead of simply backfilling the tunnel, unless they had need to travel it occasionally? Well, if what he''d read/heard about Dwarves wasn''t an exaggeration, they might have done it just because. But by that logic, they would also install an ''off'' button that shouldn''t ever be pressed ''just because''.


    Of course, there was the problem of finding that button. It probably wasn''t on this side of the traps, or else the minions would have found it already. So, they''d have to get to the other side somehow. Kat might be able to bend space to get them over there, or in fact just disable the traps remotely, but Arc wasn''t about to encourage her to waste power for ¡°shortcuts¡± like that. If there was a way to do something physically, it was better do it thusly. If Kat wanted to expend her power, it should be for things that are impossible or impractical.


    They could try a brute-force approach with sacrificial minions, and try to map out a safe path ¨C assuming there was one. If there wasn''t, they could still wear out the traps with enough bodies... Exhausting finite ammunition or energy reserves. Maybe some traps were powered by flowing water from the higher tunnels, but in that case they''d need some time to reset.


    Maybe they could try boats? No knowing how those leech-eels would react to wood, though. Not to mention the fact that the materials would have to be stolen from the surface, and that action carried risks of its own. Besides, the trap-makers may have anticipated an attempt at amphibious assault.


    ¡°Now, brainykin thinken wat? <So, what does the thinker think?>¡± Pantimus interrupted Arc''s thoughts before a solution could be found. ¡°Well, think-time more needen, methinks. <I think I need more time to think.>¡± A moment later Arc''s instincts invoked a bit of dread for just having spoken back to a ''superior'' so abruptly, but Pantimus didn''t seem to notice. Instead, his grin just grew a bit toothier.


    ¡°Alltime taken cuz, this yourjob never sayen that. You something thinkon to, worken while, giveyou willen just. <Take whatever time you need, this isn''t actually the favor I wanted. I just thought I''d give you something to think about while you do the actual work.>¡±


    Arc had definitely underestimated Pantimus'' intelligence.

 [5.4] = New Direction (Part III) =

    Pantimus lead Arc elsewhere in the deep sewers, to a spot where a wall had collapsed to reveal another tunnel behind it. This was of a similar size to the regular sewers, but the walls were rough-hewn rather than finished with bricks, and there wasn''t a water channel in the floor. Looking closer at the passageway, it seemed the hidden tunnel had been part of the original design that had been sealed off improperly. Arc couldn''t help but wonder if there were many more like it that were properly closed, and therefore nearly impossible to find.


    Actually, Kat might be use that uncertainty to her advantage, making such an abandoned corridor conveniently ''happen to be/have always been'' where someone (for instance, Arc) just ''coincidentally'' happened to look for one. On second thought, it''d be better to make exploratory holes in multiple locations at once, since cast a wider net would increase the probability of a discovery and thus decrease the strain on Kat''s power. Not that the dungeon had much need for extra rooms at the moment... Maybe a storage room? Actually, such an empty cavity would be a nice place to dump the backfill from excavations elsewhere; Arc didn''t want a repeat of the stress it took to keep the convoy of tailings from the shrine up to the surface in check.


    The hidden halls were cold and barren, a sharp contrast to the surprising biodiversity of the deep sewers. This is more like what Arc would have expected a cavity far from the surface to be like; far from the great energy source called the sun, simple entropic decay should wear the cycle of life down to a halt.


    ¡°I guess without even the waste products of humans to feed on, it seems nothing can live down here...¡± Arc muttered, thinking out loud. Before he could ponder why his own voice sounded disappointed of all things, one of the minions in the gang interrupted. (Possibly, one of the original Pantaloons; Arc wasn''t very good at telling most minions apart.)


    ¡°Yesthing downhere livedo! Thislike hidesome dryway in, stickynest Chief finden atime. Inside checken when, bigsmall crawlies manysome pouncen abrupt! Me see-en, truth! Wierdlike though, weaksome theybe methink and, othermore stiffsome erethen be too. Suchso, fiercelike fighten still, runtsthree killen yet! Nestin lootfind post, allthem deadbe ere. Stiffparts of, killproof priestymost holymake Chief havedo. Chief onis, looknow!This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    <Something does live down here! In a hidden dry corridor like this, the Chief once found a nest made of sticky stuff. When he investigated its interior, a bunch of unusually large spiders suddenly attacked! I witnessed it myself, honestly! But it was weird, they seemed weak and some were already dead. But even then they fought fiercely, and managed to kill three of the lesser minions! We found some loot in the nest after all of the spiders were dead. Of the corpses, the Chief had the high priest (Rocky?) make a trophy/relic. Look, he''s wearing it right now!>¡±


    The minion was beaming with pride for its leader, so Arc decided it was prudent not to refute the accuracy of its account. Instead, he probed for more details: ¡°So, that''s where he got that equipment?¡± Arc was curious about the gear Pantimus had outfitted himself with, but not enough to ask about it directly. It included a steel-headed pike (from which the original panties hung like a banner), a brass breastplate, and a shield (which was probably a helmet beaten flat because it lacked the right holes for horns). All of which were finer than minions could make themselves, but to small for a Human to use. Oh, and there was also that cargo sled (pulled by two large rats) that might have once been a tower shield.


    The minion replied to Arc''s question with an eager ¡°Yupyup!¡± and went on to take the opportunity to regale Arc with a wide variety of similarly-entertaining, yet less-useful (and probably even less-accurate) tales all the way to the group''s destination.


    ---------


    ¡°Herewe now. <We''re here.>¡± Pantimus had led the group through some twists and turns, past dark pits and high shafts, although all told the group was probably only an hour away from the shrine by the most efficient path. Arc''s ¡°Dungeon Meter¡± gave some strange readings along the way: first it went down, but then it went up again but with a different color. They''d reached a more natural-seeming cavern with an odd smell, a bit sulfurous but with some unidentifiable elements mixed in as well.


    The source of the odor was soon clear, as Pantimus directed Arc''s eyes to a large pit full of bubbling, presumably volcanic mud. While Arc was awed at the sight, he knew he wasn''t brought down here to play tourist. Pantimus soon made clear his intentions.


    ¡°Wetways upin, Master closeto be may, lessroom we''s yet. Lastsome place minionsfor only makedo willen. Helpen will? <Up in the sewers... We''re close to the master but have not enough room for ourselves. I seek to establish a permanent place for exclusively minions. You''d gladly do anything you need to in order to help, of course.>¡±

 [5.5] = Ready or Not =

    A few men and women dotted the benches of the open-air theater, idly listening to and sometimes commenting on the heated argument taking place upon the stage. But this was no mock dispute between actors, but a very real debate between political officials. Any adult lacking a criminal reputation in the city could sit in on the regular public council meetings, and participate in the occasional opinion polls called by the councilors.


    This odd-seeming arrangement was the result of the blending of several different cultures, and lack of any larger structures surviving the end of the Hegemony. (Although, "surviving" was a relative term; the building was originally supposed to be an <u>amphi</u>theater.) Not all the watchers were political activists, though; for many, it was merely seen as free entertainment on a day which the Church proscribed most ''worldly'' pursuits.


    Albina would laugh at the irony of making the term ''political circus'' more literal, if only he wasn''t the one stuck with the role of ringleader. Regretfully, there had been nobody outside her family both fit and willing to take care of all the boring administrative work for the last two centuries.


    Klarisa ?ura Albinus Santori VI''s official office was that of Propraetor, meaning she was the appointed representative of the head of law enforcement. But since the portion of Hegemony government dealing with finances, public works and security had fallen by the wayside, her ancestors had been forced to assume more executive functions, which had been passed down to her... The ones not usurped by the burgeoning feudalism that had swept the continent in the meantime.


    Well, at least there was probably not going to be a seventh Albinus Santori that had to suffer through this. Twenty-five wasn''t too old an age to start a family, but although her naturally fair complexion and social status had attracted the attentions of several noble boys in the past, they always loved her only for shallow reasons so none of them met her personal standards. Scaring them off sometimes helped relieve the stress that built up from times like this, though.


    A local Alderman had picked a fight with one of the caravan leaders. It was clear that both sides had valid points, but that neither was willing to concede on any of them. Instead they seemed to be resorting to that most classic school of Sophism: shout at them until they agree with you.


    "I''m just saying, mandating that a portion of foodstuffs be sold locally would stimulate the economy better."


    "No! Don''t you understand that smoked beef is one of the few goods the Easterlings actually covet?"


    Albina heard that when the mentioned wild men of the east had such a controversy, they first had a logical, orderly discourse - and if that didn''t work, skipped strait to ripping each others'' throats out. Frankly, it sounded much more attractive than this.


    "That''s all the more reason this tariff <u>won''t</u> reduce traffic through-"


    "You don''t get it! If local demand doesn''t come <u>first</u>, then merchants won''t wait for it to develop - they''ll change their routes!"


    "Well we can provide a subsidy until-"


    "With what-"


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "Gentlemen!" Albina lifted the wooden maul that was her heirloom badge of office by the shoulder, and brought it down on the table like a gavel. The brief look of worry on the faces of the interrupted pair was one of the few perks of this job.


    "I think that perhaps the two of you should ready a more formalized argument to present at the start of <u>next week''s</u> conference. We have other matters to address today." A few of the watchers attempted to make their opinions known too. The acoustics of the structure muffled their words, but it was clear that the audience had gotten bored of this ''act'' already. It was well past noon, so most just wanted to get this thing over with.


    The two muttered their apologies. "Of course, Castellan." (By Hegemony law, a Praetor wasn''t allowed to own over a certain amount of land, but that didn''t fit within the new ''modern'' sensibilities. ''Castellan'' was the title the nobility had settled upon for him, even though a renovated old outpost could hardly be called a castle in the old days.)


    A well-groomed, middle-aged man spoke up next. "If that squabble is over, then perhaps we could move on?" Elias was the Steward of Earl Jason Lambegre, the true power in the region. Technically, the city governed itself, but much of the nearby civilized land belonged to the Lambegre family. The Earl himself was usually at his country home or the Prince''s court; which, if one is being honest, was probably for the best.


    "Next on the agenda is addressing the reports of a new breed of monster inhabiting the sewers, and occasionally surfacing to perform petty thefts or acts of mischief. Last week this was but unsubstantiated rumor, however an official investigation by appointed Qaestores confirmed the existence and danger of these creatures. Before you ask: no, we didn''t hire some random mercenaries this time. A well-respected local volunteered for the task."


    Heren Tuija, the elderly high priestess representing the Pantheon religion, butted in (she was never known for her gentle manner): "It seems he also showed up at the house of healing in quite the sorry state. One of the seer vouched for him though, and I''ve heard the young one he was with has given homage generously at the All-Gods Altar since."


    Next to speak was her chief rival, Rayburn the Conservator ¨C local prelate and bishop of the Church of the Divine Architect. "What do you make of their account of a wild spirit in the sewers Heren? Perhaps a wayward servant of your Earth Goddess has taken up residence?"


    Heren frowned at the suggestion, "You know that Immelach despises invaders; they would not have been able to return alive if that were the case. Why not a splinter of one of your Sins instead? I can only imagine that the city''s Envy has been increasing over the past decade."


    While this level of petty bickering might seem a far lower level of hostility than one would expect from a Polytheist and a Monotheist, it was actually the usual amount of tension in this part of the world. Free religion had been one of the founding tenants of the Hegemony, and it survived better in some places than in others. Additionally, both the Temple and the Church agreed on their shared sacred duties of healing and warding off evil spirits. The question here was merely one of jurisdiction, and of who would lose more face should the spirit cause significant damage.


    However... "I believe we have more secular matters to attend to here. You two can sort this out between yourselves at the philosopher''s square later."


    Elias said it before Albina could. Odd, he wasn''t impatient type to deprive others of the chance to prove themselves the fool, unless... "Does the Steward of the Lambegre House believe that this is a matter requiring decisive action?" Albina asked.


    "Indeed. I do not believe this to be a mere wandering band of creatures, a mere passing threat, but rather a full migratory event. If so, what triggered this will likely prove to be the greater issue in the end, so we cannot afford to squander our time and have the lesser ones still dogging us then."


    Elias cleared his throat and leaned into the table before continuing. "More immediate, however, is the fact that these new creatures have undoubtedly upset the balance of nature in our sewers. This shall spill over to the surface soon..."


    ---------


    Soon, fliers with the following announcements were posted in several key public places:


    ~OPEN PUBLIC QUEST~


    The Council seeks method of proof of the slaying of new goblin-type monsters appearing in city sewers.


    - Turn-in Point: next scheduled public council meeting.


    - Reward: up to $10.000 depending on practicality of devised method.


    - Bonus: negotiable bounty for each kill.


    ~OPEN PRIVATE QUEST~


    The Steward of Lambegre seeks captive live specimens of new goblin-type monster in city sewers.


    - Turn-in Point: Inner City North Gate. Ask for Ferguson the Huscarl.


    - Reward: 5 Scroll (fine silver) for each pristine specimen, less if damaged.


    - Limit: 4, but additional negotiable.


    ~QUEST UPDATE~


    The bounty for rat-tails has been increased. Inquire at the Guardhouse on Trail Street for details.

 [6.1] + CALM +

    The Goddess was upset. The minion known as ¡°Rocky¡± by Her and ¡°priestymost¡± by the minions knew why... It was the fact that Her Favorite, the only one to call Her by name, had taken an extended absence from Her presence.


    Since the Favorite had accepted the Chief''s task, he''d spent nearly all of his time at his worksite in the depths. A place beyond the Goddess''s direct influence, although not for lack of trying. Her Domain was expanding as swiftly as it could, yet that was not the same thing as Her presence... Which some unknown force was resisting. The Priestymost could not for a moment believe it was merely the maximum extent of Her power.


    Rocky didn''t understand the whims of his Goddess. The Favorite went so far as to rebuke Her, yet was still subserviant to Her geas. She had sent him away as punishment, yet clearly She longed for his return. This sort of relationship was unfathomable by one who thought of loyalty as an absolute thing.


    The Goddess dealt with Her malaise through the use of a surrogate, a role which Rocky could trust to none other lest they lead Her astray through either malice or incompetence. Mostly he was simply regaled with tales and images of prior events in the dungeon, but it wasn''t long before he realized why the one known as ¡°Arc¡± was meant for this role.


    {Rocky, none of the minions are using the clay pit Kat ordered. Why not?}


    {Look at the silly minion with the boot on its head! It can''t see anything! Isn''t that funny?}


    {Why doesn''t Rocky try to make something new? Maybe... Um... A banner for Kat?}


    {Rocky, help! The mobs aren''t listening to Kat anymore.}


    Rocky wasn''t actually a very creative minion. Even if his name came from the rune-stone he was carving when the Goddess found him, he himself wasn''t sure how he did that. The favorite had already surpassed him in that regard. All he did was follow the voices in his head. Maybe they were just his imagination, maybe they were low-level forms of the spirits the Goddess once spoke of; whatever the case, they had served Her ends well so far.


    {Rocky? What should Kat do?}


    Rocky meagerly attempted to satisfy Her desires, but rarely met up to the standard. However, this time it sounded like a more serious issue: Rocky would have to go all-out to serve her as well as Arc could.


    {Maybe Rocky should go call Arc back...}


    No! ...He wanted to say, but couldn''t; not to Her. ¡°Master... Master can do it!¡± Rocky believed She relied too much on her Favorite, and was certain Arc would agree with him. Even if he was here, he''d probably try to get Her to stand on Her own.


    ¡°Master... What would Arc do?¡±


    Yes, that was the question. Though Rocky wasn''t sure himself, he believed Arc merely wanted the Goddess to think as well as he could. That was how he served Her.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    {...Kat lacks enough power to coalesce that information from decoherence.}


    What? Rocky didn''t understand the works the Goddess was using.


    ¡°Er... See what Arc do before, apply to now.¡±


    {Okay. Simulating... Arc would, probably try to find out the cause of this and fix it.}


    Find the cause? Rocky looked at the image the Goddess cast in her shrine''s basin. It was clearer than it used to be, according to Arc who suspected it had to do with the small crystals from the mine that had been seeded into it. Currently displayed was the image of several rats furiously devouring a minion. They were one of the smaller breeds, yet seemed to possess an unnatural strength for something so emancipated...


    Hunger...


    ¡°Master, maybe they hungry? You feed enough?¡± {Wha... Mobs need food? Kat has to feed the mobs?} She sounded dejected. She probably never even thought about what the rats would eat, not having the need to eat anything herself.


    ¡°Yes, Master. Most things need to eat food or, they die. If, they die then, they cannot serve Master. So, they must ignore now else, cannot obey later.¡±


    {Aww... So, Kat has to give food? Um... What do mobs eat?} Unfortunately, Rocky didn''t know either. From his observations, the rats mostly ate other rats; in retrospect that should have been the first sign something was amiss.


    Prey...


    Right now, that was the minions. ¡°We need, another mob.¡±


    If Arc had been in the upper dungeon, he would have been able to assess the situation and see that the rat population had been heading for a disaster ever since it fell under the dungeon''s influence. While the smaller rats could forage on the surface at night, the larger rats would quickly deplete any natural prey once their population started expanding.


    And what was their natural prey? The answer was a large roach-like insect that ate the slime mold that grew on the sewer walls. The mold had flourished under the dungeon''s influence, but the bugs were killed off before they could be integrated. The survivors instinctively avoided the dungeon, but since only a fraction of the sewer system''s breadth had been assimilated, Rocky was able to find one in the unexplored zone without too much difficulty.


    The voices urged him to wave his relic staff, and the herd was enchanted. They followed him willingly, although some of the starving rats attacked on the way back. Another wave of the staff, and the rats began convulsing: some died, others recovered to their normal state and fled, and a few remained living but paralyzed. Rocky had some minions carry those back as well.


    Both were presented at the Shrine.


    {Lifeform identified as ¡°Lesser Sewer Crawler¡±. Mutations: none. Classifications: creature, monster, mob, passive. Attempting to contract... Contract successful.}


    {Lifeform identified as ¡°Rat¡±. Mutations: Aspect of Famine. Classifications: creature, monster, mob, swarm. Reinforcing contract... Reinforcement successful.}


    The Sewer Crawlers were thus integrated into the dungeon, and would multiply quickly under its influence. With the promise of food, the new variety of rat, or ¡°Famine Rat¡±, came under control as well.


    But if Arc was there, he would have realized that this wasn''t a stable solution. The crawlers'' food source was plentiful now, but would probably decrease over time now that the crawlers had been reintroduced. Additionally, it would still be a while before the crawler population was large enough to support the current number of large rats.


    They needed a predator to balance the equation.


    ---------


    {Intruders have entered the dungeon.}

 [7.1] + STORM +

    {Intruders have entered the dungeon.}


    Kat summoned the senior minions to the shrine room with these words.


    Although, since most were still working in the lower regions, there were only Rocky, one of the Pantaloons (the Left, to be specific), and the replacement shrine guard (Not-quite-so-big Green, who dutifully guarded the spot in the tunnel Arc had marked despite the shrine''s entrance now being mobile). The three crowded over the shrine''s reflecting pool to observe Kat''s mirage.


    There were four groups of intruders this time. They each seemed to have different goals, and were moving independently of the others. There wasn''t anything like a detailed map of the dungeon, though, so their positions could only be approximated.


    Kat quickly made her assessments of them.


    {Kat really doesn''t like these ones here.}


    She enlarged the image of the biggest group, which looked like nothing more than a gang of thugs armed with cudgels, ropes, and sacks. They weren''t very well-equipped in terms of armor though, and didn''t move like they had much training.


    The size of their group meant they had to stick to the larger tunnels, but also scared away the more clever rats. At least they would be easy to track down.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    {Rocky, go and take care of them.}


    "Yes, Master!" came the dutiful reply.


    {These ones also worry Kat a bit... Especially the short one.}


    The group she referred to was the second-largest, numbering five people... Although one was much smaller than the rest, and another was a clear non-combatant dragging a sled with several boxes and jars loaded on it.


    Unlike the first group, they seemed much more well-equipped and well-organized: a proper dungeon-diving expedition. Although their mobility was also hampered by the sled, it was small and light enough that they could quickly unload it, pick it up, and carrying up or down stairs or even change it''s direction in a tight space.


    Left Pantaloon didn''t even wait for the order.


    "Will fight for Master!" he boasted loudly.


    ¡°What of, the others Master?¡± Rocky asked.


    There were two groups remaining. Both seemed to have a level of preparation somewhere between the previous two extremes.


    The smallest had only two members: one wielded a short sword and buckler in light armor, while the other seemed to be armed with nothing but a long stick. However, despite their lack of supplies, each of their actions seemed to complement the others'' well.


    The final team numbered four, one of whom had a familiar face. Unlike the others, they weren''t moving deeper, instead seemingly content with clearing the uppermost levels, the tunnels that carried clean water instead of waste.


    {Hm...}


    Kat spent a moment, as if analyzing the situation. However, Rocky could instinctively feel that she was mobilizing her power for something.


    Suddenly, Not-quite-so-big Green (who''d been silently watching from a distance up to this point) stepped forward. A faint blue-silver glow appeared in his eyes.


    {Kat will just play around with them a bit. *fu fu fu*}

 [7.2] = The Thugs =

    Rocky cautiously moved along the tunnel. The group he was trailing didn''t bother to do anything to mask their presence, leaving a clear trail of muddy bootprints and dead rats. Soon enough, he started to hear human voices, and his nervousness increased.


    "<Keep ''em from running! Don''t let ''em through!>"


    He was true to the Goddess, but wasn''t as sure of himself. His gang of minions was small, but had good war potential since they were herding the most massive rat in the dungeon: the original rat to be contracted, now a truly monstrous beast the mass of four minions that could likely make a man its prey all on its own. However, there were seven up ahead.


    "<Don''t hit ''em too hard! We don''t get paid if they''re dead.>"


    The shouting got louder. Soon the intruders themselves came into view, although because of the lighting the reverse wasn''t true. Rocky snuck a bit closer to observe while the others struggled to keep the Ur-Rat restrained.


    "<Heh, look at ''em struggle. They''re like scared little children! That noble''s man is an easy mark, I say.>"


    The one which acted like a leader spat on the ground, while a henchman held up a scared minion by the back of the neck. A few others carried full sacks: some struggling, others still. A half-dozen more lay motionless on the floor.


    A large group of unlucky minions must have been cornered in this dead-end tunnel. The invaders seemed to be making an effort to capture them alive, although not much of one. While Rocky didn''t feel anything like empathy looking at the mangled corpses, there was something else...


    Not Die... Must..... Revenge...


    The voices were much louder than usual. Rocky felt he might regret giving them what they wanted this time, but it was his sense of duty was stronger. Her could give no less than his all in Her service.


    Rocky stepped out of the shadows and began to chant. He remembered the time the Goddess had channelled a miracle through him, and attempted to replicate the sensation he''d felt then. However, it was an imperfect copy. A dim light gathered at the head of his cane, but the expected gold was tainted with green, and some other, incomprehensible hue.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    At first the enemies didn''t notice, being too preoccupied with the ''sport'' in front of them. But as the spell neared its climax, the light grew brighter.


    "<Hey, what''s that?>"


    Too late, the light had already reached a critical mass. Rocky couldn''t control it with finesse like Kat, though, so it burst across the room like a wave. One man cried out:


    "<Holy Sh¨Caahrrglbglr>"


    The ''unconcious'' minion he''d been trying to stuff in a bag suddenly jumped out and mauled his throat. The fell green light lay in its eyes, as it attacked with a fury not seen from it before The sacks with minions in them squirmed even more violently, and then...


    The bodies on the floor began to move.


    "<They''re¨C they''re getting back up!>"


    "<It''s the Eumenid''s wrath!>"


    "Sard!"


    "<I''m getting out of this hell!>"


    The men panicked. If they had calmly worked together, they probably could have destroyed all of the possessed minions with just the one casualty, but instead each individual tried to put his own skin before the rest. Every last one of them turned and fled, desperate now that the terrain which had worked in their favor before allowed them to be the ones cornered this time.


    One man''s hamstring was torn by a bite, and fell down. Two more tripped over him due to the restricted space. The remaining three didn''t even slow down as their comrades cried out behind them. They passed by Rocky, who had half-collapsed from exhaustion, and kept running.


    The Beast was waiting for them. It tackled one, and horrible squelching and crunching sounds were produced as it began to feed messily. Another was caught by the acolytes, but a sole survivor managed to elude their grasp.


    Rocky got up, and slowly moved to regroup with the others. Behind him, a dropped lantern had broken open and the oil which spilled everywhere caught fire.


    Having already fulfilled their purpose, the Abominations were simply left to burn.


    <hr>


    Desimir ran, trying to ignore the screaming. Was he even being chased? The tunnel was pitch-black and his lantern dim, and he couldn''t pause for even a second to check. He didn''t even have the time to wonder about what just happened or what he''d done to deserve it, his focus was entirely consumed by his desire to escape.


    "Come on... Come on you stupid woodchip, do something!"


    The only thing he spared a thought for was the simple carved trinket in his hand. It was a cheap, one-Pent charm he''d bought from a back-alley soothsayer, who said it would help "get out of danger".


    While he was a superstitious fellow, if he''d been thinking more rationally then he would have been satisfied with having successfully run a gauntlet that had claimed half a dozen others, but Desimir wasn''t being rational at the moment. Instead, he was concentrating all his remaining will on the charm in the vain hope of it having some sort of effect.


    Or rather, it would have been in vain... If he wasn''t in a dungeon.


    *Blink*


    Desimir ran into a wall.


    When he recovered from the daze, he immediately put his arm over his eyes. There was a light strong enough to hurt them, even through the lids.


    ...Was he dead?


    No, that wasn''t it.


    He could still feel the sores on his body. He could hear some voices in the distance too, and they sure didn''t sound like an angelic choir, nor the cries of the damned. As his eyes adjusted, he was soon able to take a look at his surroundings.


    Somehow, he had arrived back on the surface.

 [7.3] = The Opportunists =

    The smallest group of humans that entered the dungeon that day numbered only two, both younger women. Both were mercenaries.


    Female mercenaries were uncommon, but not unheard of. For those with the right talents, it is a much more attractive career than the alternative.


    It is said that back in the days of the Hegemony, both men and women became Heroes in equal number, so overall their reputation is roughly on par with that of men, although many tasks were thought better suited to one sex or the other.


    However, mercenaries still tended to be a rough and violent bunch, so the girls often preferred to stick together.


    This pair was one such team.


    "Um, Thie, so how much farther do we have to go?" the younger girl asked.


    "Until we find a good spot to set up, of course." replied Thidela, the older.


    "It''s just... I''ve been getting this creepy feeling, like we''re being watched."


    Thidela didn''t reply immediately, instead silently motioning for a stop.


    "Melissa, point the light down here for a second."


    "Okay." That light came from a mid-grade magic stone affixed to the top of her staff. It was of the type that slowly converted itself into heat and light, commonly known as a "sunstone", and Melissa''s abilities allowed her to make one last for a very long time.


    Of the two, she had the more skill with magic, and often found herself in the role of a supporting mage whenever they teamed up with a larger band. Thidela was sort of a guardian and ''bigger sister'' to Melissa, using her greater experience to keep them both out of trouble.


    With the light source closer to the ground, Thidela was able to find what she was looking for. A few faint mud print tracks, too large and the wrong shape to have been left by a rat.


    "A trail... We''ll set up near here."


    Farther along the tunnel, they found a rough alcove they could hide in, and set up their trap. Without knowing too much about their quarry, they settled for a simple foot snare disguised with mud and baited with dried meat. They disabled their main light, and tossed out a low-grade sunstone with all the luminosity of a dying ember, just barely enough to see if there was something in the trap or not.


    Quietly, patiently, they waited. If they even needed to wait for several hours, the reward would be worth it; but it didn''t come to that. Less then have an hour later, movement could be sensed in the nearly pitch-blackness.


    Melissa tensed, grabbing Thidela''s shoulder, but the latter knew better than to act immediately.


    She had to wait...


    For the right.....


    Moment!


    *SQUEAK!*


    As soon as she heard the sound of something nibbling on the bait, she pulled the snare closed. But just from the weight she knew that they''d failed, and clenched her teeth together.


    "Damn. It''s just a rat."


    "It''s a pretty skinny one too." commented Melissa, who had already rekindled her stave''s light.


    "Eh, then even it''s tail won''t be worth one Glyph. Maybe we can use it as bait, tho-OW!" Thidela was interrupted as the rat managed to twist its spine all the way around to bite the hand clutching the fur on its back. Upon being dropped, it immediately scurried away, although not without dragging the trap''s jerky bait behind it.


    "Damn flexible, clever bastard. Now I see how some people can make a living solely by hunting them. There must be some trick to handling it..."


    The rat had even managed to put two small holes in her leather glove. She applied some pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding.


    "Hey Melissa, could you purify this for me?" That was common sense for any wound, but especially so for those from unclean sources. Normally Thidela wouldn''t even need to ask.


    "...Melissa?"


    She was staring down the tunnel with a worried expression, clutching her staff near to her body.


    "Thie, look."


    In the depths of the darkness, there was movement. Lots of movement. Sounds of scurrying Thidela should have noticed earlier.


    "Full light." She commanded.


    It was a risky move, since it''d ruin their night vision, but the same could be said of their foes as well. In fact, it was even worse for monsters that spent their entire lives in total darkness, and some would simply flee at the sudden appearance of a new stimulus.


    "Mzia, Goddess of Light, send your rays to brighten your true love''s heart. [Sunlight]"


    Not only did the sunstone shine much brighter, but a wave of sourceless light swept down the tunnel.


    Rats; dozens if not hundreds of rats! Individually the smaller rats generally aren''t considered a threat, but in swarms... There were rumors about meticulously clean skeletons being found in the capitols'' slums.


    The rats were in some sort of feeding frenzy over the captured bait, but upon the sudden illumination several of the outlying members gave pause. They stood up on their hind legs, looking at the humans.


    Looking at fresh prey.


    "Run!" Thidela shouted, pushing Melissa in front of her, urging her away from the swarm. They fled, and the rats began to follow.


    The swarm wasn''t unified in its actions, each rat still thought for itself, so the swarm got a bit spread out as some rats were quick to chase the new food source while others were still fixated on the old one.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    On the surface, humans with their longer legs and higher endurance would have been able to escape with ease, but tunnel''s wall and ceiling restricted their movements.


    "Kya!" "Careful!" Melissa tripped, almost falling into the water channel, but Thidela caught her. However, just that moment''s pause was enough for the lead rats to close the gap significantly.


    There was no time left for hesitation. Thidela turned and faced her opponents. She held her sword in both hands and took a deep breath. She focused herself inward, repeating a mantra she''d learned from the one who taught her swordsmanship.


    "The blade is an extension of the arm, the arm an extension of the will. As the will is absolute, so too is the blade!"


    The closest rats reached her¨C


    "STOP!"


    The sword''s tip swept across the floor, knocking several rats back or into the water. The effect on the swarm was drastic: it was almost as if it had suddenly run into an invisible wall. The rats piled up as they were suddenly forced to halt in their tracks. A few got pushed forwards by crowd pressure, only to immediately be slain by Thidela''s scything edge.


    The cause of this was no mere intimidation technique. It was not out of fear for their own lives that the rats stopped, for their intense hunger already had a monopoly on that aspect of their minds; rather, they simply lacked the willpower to challenge Thidela''s unyielding resolve.


    The power behind this was almost palatable, even to those who are not very sensitive to magic, but explaining it was like trying to describe light to one who had lived in a dark cave their entire lives. Thus, this effect was known to the Heroes of the Old Hegemony as simply the [Zone of the Absolute].


    Even ordinary humans were sometimes capable of projecting one purely on accident, but maintaining one deliberately required a strong resolution and mental discipline.


    Thidela had to keep her entire being centered on the task of keeping the rats at bay.


    She''d done this many times before, even against a large group of men, but never against opponents so small. Her sword wasn''t all that long, so she''d needed to adapt an uncomfortable crouching stance in order to reach the ground.


    Her defense wavered for a moment, but she couldn''t notice. If she thought about it, then the effect would immediately collapse.


    But the Swarm noticed. By now, most of the stragglers had caught up, and the swarm formed a single mass of rats. They all struggled to crawl on top of each other, and naturally a few slipped and fell into the water channel.


    This was the hole in Thidela''s defenses: her resolve had faltered just enough to give the swarm a chance to find an alternate angle of attack.


    Thankfully the mob mentality of the swarm was even less intelligent than each individual rat, so it was slow to shift as a whole. Furthermore, the rats'' instinctive aversion to drowning lessened the grip that hunger held on their souls, disrupting the swarm''s unity.


    Nevertheless, at this rate Thidela would soon be overwhelmed.


    The wandering monks said that it was at times like this that the soul was laid bare, and the true self most visible. If correct, then it was perhaps telling that Thidela still was thinking of her companion.


    "Melissa!"


    As to whether Thidela was asking her to assist, or telling her to escape while she could, that was less clear.


    Melissa hadn''t been idle, waiting for Thidela''s assistance. She''d been chanting a prayer, a spell intended to stop the swarm.


    "Oh Lady Tranquility, maiden of solitude, she who watches in silence. Breath of frost that gently heralds your mother''s cold embrace. Capture this moment, preserving it indefinitely! [Stasis Field]"


    In a roughly spherical area centered upon the densest part of the swarm, time began to dilate noticeably. The rats'' slight magical property allowed them to notice what was going on and resist a bit, but not for long. Soon the scurrying pile of rodents had been frozen in time.


    Around the edges of the field, a more literal freezing effect occurred. The water in the channel rapidly solidified, and frost formed upon every surface marking a clear line of where the field ended. Even the atmosphere itself started to precipitate, but as the liquid air droplets were caught in the time distortion they appeared suspended in space, creating a remarkable dazzling effect like so many clear diamonds. Unfortunately this scene of beauty was brief, as a nearly-opaque white shell formed from the accumulating ices.


    Much less pleasing to the eye was the fate of the rats caught in these edge-effects, as the flash-frozen parts of their bodies simply broke right off.


    A more old-fashioned mage might have scoffed at the choice of spell, citing a poor synergy with the staff materials and limited destructive power, but Melissa had her own style. Her strength was in her flexibility, even though that meant she wasn''t as powerful as a specialized caster.


    The important thing was that it worked; even if less than the entire swarm was trapped, the remainder found their path suddenly blocked by the barrier.


    ¡°Hah...¡± Melissa let out a sigh of relief. In truth, she hadn''t expected the spell to be that powerful; the goddess must have favored her today.


    ¡°Come on, let''s go.¡± She tapped Thidela on the shoulder, snapping her out of her martial trance. The two of them then continued in their flight, managing to turn around a corner before the diminished swarm managed to crawl past the iced-over water channel.


    It was Melissa''s turn to lead Thidela around. The technique the later used had an aftereffect that lowered willpower, similar to slight drunkenness, so there was a greater chance of her decision-making being compromised by fear and the like. But she still had more experience, so right now Melissa''s priority was finding a place they could safely rest for a bit.


    She racked her brain to remember what Thidela had taught her.


    A good campsite... Something off the main path, with defensible terrain... Like a chokepoint!


    Her eye caught a narrow side tunnel that would work.


    ¡°Ah, in here!¡±


    She pulled Thidela in behind her, but it was immediately apparent that she''d made a mistake.


    ¡°What? This is a dead end!¡± Thidela complained.


    ¡°Uggh...¡± Melissa could only whine at her misfortune, guessing this was probably balancing out her unexpected success from earlier.


    After progressing a few feet, the tunnel ended at a room with no other exits. It looked like there were some treasures here, which at any other time would have been seen as a blessing, but they needed to be alive to spend them.


    ¡°Don''t worry so much, this still isn''t that bad. Just get ready to support me again.¡± Thidela got down on her knees on one side of the threshold, ready to stab any rat that entered. Melissa followed her example on the other side, although she''d need to use the searing heat from the sunstone on her staff like a spear. Overusing magic had dire consequences, so using a second big spell like before wasn''t worth the risk.


    However, the swarm never came for them.


    One rat did appear, but after sniffing in their direction it hastily turned around and fled with a pitiful wail.


    It was still a while before either girl could relax, though.


    ¡°Phew; that was close.¡± ¡°Bwah...¡± Thidela was the first to let her guard down, and Melissa immediately followed suit.


    {Yeah, Kat enjoyed watching these humans.}


    ¡°Hm? Did you say something, Thie?¡±


    ¡°I said that was close. Next time we''ll need to be better prepared before coming down here.¡±


    {Humans will come back? Even better!}


    ¡°Um...¡± Melissa blinked a few times.


    ¡°So, what''s this place? It looks lived in... ¡± Thidela examined the room, assessing the various decorative objects with an appraiser''s eye.


    {This is Kat''s Shrine, only recently renovated. These humans should be reverent like the last ones, not messing around like this. Kat is disappointed.}


    ¡°Oh, hey! There''s a Sunstone in this lamp!¡± She stepped up on a convenient rock, trying to reach the lantern hanging in the ceiling. Melissa suddenly felt that


    ¡°Thie, stop!¡± She panically shouted.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Thidela was confused at the interruption. There were no clear markings of ownership in this room, so she thought it was probably being used for illegal purposes; in which case looting was not only expected but condoned. However, Melissa had a different impression.


    ¡°I- I think this is some kind of sacred place, like a shrine.¡±


    {Oh? Can this human hear Kat?}


    ¡°...Really? You can sense a spirit?¡± Thidela immediately stopped what she was doing and took a more serious posture. Internally, she cursed herself for being so lax. She had let herself lose discipline, and if Melissa was right then she had been about to do something extremely stupid.


    ¡°Mm, I think so.¡± Melissa nodded gravely. ¡°I think... The spirit allowed us to shelter here.¡±


    {Can''t hear Kat perfectly, huh. Still, very interesting... Mufufu...}


    ¡°What is a shrine to a benevolent spirit doing so far underground, though? I thought the earth goddess hated people.¡±


    ¡°I''m not sure. It definitely isn''t that one, though. Maybe... An agent of Mercy?¡±


    {¡­What is Mercy? That name is... familiar to Kat.....}


    After giving their respects to the shrine spirit, the two mercenaries were able to return to the surface without difficulty.


    They might not have captured the quarry they sought, but in exchange they became among the first to spread the rumors of the Hidden Sanctuary.