Dungeons and Noobs

by Ryan Rimmel

  “Did Margwal join in?” I asked. She was a high soprano. Her singing caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up when she hit the really high notes.

  “Only for one song, Some Day my Prints will come,” said the badger glumly. He rather liked the high soprano. Margwal still wanted a Scribe in town to draw up plans.

  We walked in relative silence for another few minutes. As Windfall Manor came into view, Badgelor leapt down and went through the little badger entrance built into the front door. I opened the door and followed him in, only to find Badgelor sitting on his haunches. Sir Dalton glared at me.

  “Kitchen, now!”

  Chapter 8: An Encounter in a Kitchen

  Zorlando was already sitting in the kitchen, stroking his magnificent mustache. The Mercenary was wearing the most innocent expression I’d ever seen on a man. None of my servants were in the building, leaving just the three of us roommates at this impromptu meeting. Sir Dalton followed me in, looking as massive and angry as I’d ever seen him. My loyal Beast Companion followed me in and wandered over to the ice box.

  “What’s going on, Dalton?” I asked, finding a chair in the corner. Part of me wanted to stay standing, in an attempt to be on the same level as Dalton. However, he was already so much taller than me that it didn't matter much. Plus, this looked like it might take a while.

  Sir Dalton looked like a volcano about to erupt. “I have evidence that someone has broken into this house!”

  I immediately checked the house security log, which said that wasn’t true. Then again, a competent thief probably had skills that would prevent him from showing up in the log. Finally, I asked, “What makes you think that?”

  “I found this in Ashe’s office,” stated Sir Dalton, pulling out a small men’s comb and brandishing it like a tiny sword. Ashe had a small office in the actual servants’ quarters, complete with a cot for sleeping. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was very private. Badgelor strode over to Sir Dalton with a large drumstick in his hand and sniffed the air around the comb loudly. He proceeded to chuckle like a loon before turning and vacating the room.

  “Moron,” commented Shart, staring after the badger.

  “Thieves usually don’t leave things,” I said calmly, watching Badgelor’s hindquarters disappear around the corner. I again checked the log. The only men that had been in the house over the last few days were Sir Dalton, Zorlando, and myself. I didn’t see any particularly hairy women mentioned in the log, either.

  “I didn’t say they broke into the house to steal anything!” thundered Sir Dalton. “At least, not something as banal as possessions. No, no, what I’m thinking is far worse.”

  “Sir Dalton and thinking don’t really fit together in a sentence too well,” thought Shart. I growled.

  “What do you believe this thief’s motives are, then?” I asked.

  “Only the most scandalous of purposes,” said Sir Dalton, his lower lip trembling. “I believe that the criminal has intentions on my daughter, Ashe.”

  “Ashe? My maid?” I asked, considering the situation. She didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d sneak someone into the house. I was under the impression that her main hobby was digging up dirt on SueLeeta.

  “My daughter, who’s virtue I swore to protect, is being molested in this very house.”

  “What if she wasn’t being molested? What if, instead, she had entered into a mutually desired relationship?” asked Zorlando.

  “Poppycock!” exclaimed Sir Dalton. “My daughters know that they are free to date, as long as I am able to meet with their boyfriends first.”

  “Do you have any theories on who this man could be?” I asked.

  “Alas, no,” grumbled Sir Dalton, before a light came on in his very dim head. “Zorlando, she seems to hang around you a lot! Do you have any ideas?”

  Zorlando coughed loudly into his cup. “Um, no. I am unaware of anyone but me.”

  “Curses,” said Dalton, as he pondered. He began to walk maniacally around the kitchen in circles. “Well, that shortens the list of suspects.”

  I nodded. I picked up the small comb and pried a bit of mustache wax from it. Narrowing my eyes, I glanced at Zorlando. A very short list of suspect, indeed.

  “It cannot be Jim, of course,” said Sir Dalton, ticking through a checklist on his fingers.

  “Because the curse has rendered him impotent,” replied Zorlando. I frowned at him. No curse had rendered me impotent. The fact that my housemates persisted in this belief was a continued matter of dismay to me. Yelling about my great potency now would not benefit anyone, though. Least of all, me.

  “Everyone in the town knows that,” continued Dalton, before he wheeled around in a flash of insight. “Zorlando!”

  “I’m sorry, my dear friend,” exclaimed the Mercenary Captain in anguish.

  “Worry not, brave companion! You could not have known,” said Sir Dalton proudly. “Do not fear! You and I will investigate this and find the culprit.”

  Zorlando’s eyes widened. “Yes, the culprit,” he agreed, after a moment. “Just out of curiosity, you are Ashe’s father by. . .”

  “Adoption,” finished Sir Dalton.

  “Is this inane discussion almost finished?” Shart asked. “Now that we have the blind leading the stupid over here, I am sure there are better things to be doing.”

  “That’s your only problem with this?” I asked. “That Dumb and Dumber are teaming up to solve a non-crime?”

  “Yes. Neither of these two bubbling fools are ever going to figure this out. The only good that will come from this is that the two village idiots will be occupied and unable to cause other havoc.”

  “Are you sure that Zorlando is the best assistant?” I ventured, as Zorlando processed what an assistant would be doing in this endeavor. His eyes grew wider and wider. A proper schemer would happily take the role as the person investigating themselves. Unfortunately, Zorlando was just the right combination of honest and braggart that would make such a role hell.

  “Alas, no,” said Sir Dalton. “However, in this, I must choose trust over competence. I know Zorlando has my back!”

  “Wow, the Knight thinks Mustache Man is the incompetent one,” Shart snarked. “Wait. . .”

  “She’s an adult. She can pick her own romantic partners,” I said.

  “I don’t care that she’s having a romantic relationship,” stated Sir Dalton. “She is a good and proper young woman. Her heart is free to anyone she chooses.”

  “”Why go through all this, then?” I asked.

  “She didn’t introduce me,” whined Sir Dalton, stomping his foot like an overgrown toddler. “She doesn’t need my permission, nor my approval. I’d still like to meet the man and give her my blessing. Look, Ashe is the most responsible of all my daughters. I am quite confident that she will choose well. She knows this, yet she is hiding her new boyfriend from me. I want to know why!”

  “Why the rush?” I asked, deciding to stay out of it as much as possible.

  Sir Dalton pulled out a very formal looking letter and placed it in front of me. At first, I thought it was a page off a laser printer. That was a ridiculous thought on Ordinal. Looking closer, I realized that a very high-level scribe must have written it. Reading through it quickly, I glanced back up at Sir Dalton.

  “You are going off to war?” I asked.

  “I shall have to depart Windfall shortly after the holiday,” replied Sir Dalton, flexing his hands as if holding an invisible sword. “Fenris brought the summons from Lord Dookie with the last caravan. I’d invite any adventurers in town to come with me, but I would understand if they did not. Not everyone would wish to fight for a kingdom that was not theirs.”

  “Good to know,” I said, nodding. “Do you still have time for the dungeon?”

  Sir Dalton nodded briskly. “I have sufficient time to take care of that, as well as find this ne'er-do-well.”

  “What happens if he’s not a ne’er-do-well?” ventured Zorlando. “Perhap
s he is just a soldier. I mean, what kind of man would you have her choose?” He truly was proving the bravery of a Mercenary Captain.

  “Someone stalwart and dependable, like you, Zorlando,” stated Sir Dalton, totally glossing over the implications of the question.

  “Well, then, I have some good news,” replied Zorlando. Sir Dalton kept on talking.

  “Also,” continued Sir Dalton, “He should have a permanent job. Preferably, he should also be an adventurer, like myself.” The hope that had reared in Zorlando’s eyes died at the second proclamation.

  “Yeah, okay. I get it now,” Shart nodded. “Dumbass dramatic human nincompoops.”

  “Took you long enough,” I said.

  “I pay little attention to trite human sexual interactions,” replied Shart. “At most, they are sometimes good for a laugh. Normally, they are dumb, emotionally-driven nonsense that only serve to cause distractions.”

  “How could any normal man do that? An adventurer with a permanent job?” asked Zorlando, his face downcast. “It's not like any amount of training will suddenly turn a soldier into an adventurer. Maybe she is just looking for someone who treats her well and will make her happy.”

  “Possibly,” stated Sir Dalton, in what would pass for his version of thoughtfulness. “It would take a special man to pull that off, though.”

  Zorlando thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “Well, I will have to find you this special man!”

  “That’s the spirit,” stated Sir Dalton enthusiastically. “For now, I will be Detective Dalton and find the culprit!”

  With that, the big man walked out of the kitchen and vanished up the stairs. Zorlando still stood in the corner, girding himself for the task at hand.

  “You are a crazy man, Zorlando,” I ventured.

  “Love makes you do crazy things,” he replied with a flourish.

  Chapter 9: An Errant Mage

  I spent the evening making toys under Badgelor’s cruel gaze. He had managed to find some more dipping sauce for his turkey leg and was loudly chewing while I worked. The stuff smelled terrible, but Badgelor found some every night. I’d have to talk to Ashe about it eventually. Hopefully, there was a way to stop ordering it. Its odor of ginseng and oysters permeated the air. Bright and early the next morning, I made a quick trip to the Golden Badger. I was still considering what to spend my time on before the dungeon opened. I sat down with Mar and Blots. Both were sitting at the same table but still doing their level best to ignore each other.

  “Sir,” stated Mar, as I sat.

  “Most illustrious mayor,” greeted Blots, as I settled in.

  Mar side eyed Blots, “What are your current brilliant plans for the town?”

  “Yes, someone with your good looks and intelligence must have a brilliant plan!” continued Blots.

  It went downhill from there. Eventually, I decided to change the topic of conversation from brown-nosing to something more productive.

  “How are preparations for Grebthar Day going?” I asked no one in particular.

  Mar chimed in before Blots could. “Very well, Sir! The phoenix’s feast is prepared and everything is going swimmingly.”

  “Didn’t someone mention a parade?” I asked.

  “Of course,” cut in Blots smoothly. “That’s on Badger’s Day, though. It marks the beginning of the celebration. It’s only three days away!”

  “Wait, how does this work again?” I asked, becoming confused. There were a lot of terms associated with this holiday. It sounded like it wasn’t just a one day affair.

  “What do you mean?” questioned Blots.

  “He means the whole thing. He always means the whole thing,” sighed Mar, not quite rolling his eyes. I really dislike that man. “The mayor used to live out in the sticks. He’s not used to civilization.”

  “Oh,” said Blots, looking at me strangely for a moment, “Well, the holiday officially starts on Badger’s Day. There is a parade to celebrate Grebthar going through the Demon Door. It’s also where we show off for Badgelor. After the parade, there is a big party and the kids dress up. We have a demon door set up, so people can jump through it. It's all sorts of fun. ”

  “And that’s not a real Demon Door?” I asked.

  “No, Dum Dum, it's not. It's a big fake demon door, just like the last time you asked,” growled Shart to me mentally. “You can stop rubbing it in now.”

  “No, it's just wood. I had CarpenterJohn fix up the town’s old demon door. It's in tip-top shape for the celebration. We are going to use the entire square. While the adults party, the kids will be going around and getting bait from everyone’s porches,” Mar droned.

  “Bait?” I asked.

  “Candy,” replied Blots, taking control of the conversation. “The kids need to leave out bait for Badgelor.”

  “You like candy?” I yelled out to Badgelor.

  “I fecking love the stuff,” he replied, trying to get his posterior closer to the fire. In the time we had been at the inn, the badger had already eaten his breakfast of electric yellow rat.

  “Well, Badgelor says he loves the stuff,” I said. Both men smiled.

  “Later that evening, Badgelor will break into their houses and steal their presents and candy. Then, he will leave them new presents,” finished Blots, grinning at Mar.

  “Why steal their old toys?” I questioned.

  “Grebthar was all about efficiency. You couldn’t just have a silly old bobble sitting around for no reason,” chuckled Mar, before he checked himself. “In olden days, Badgelor took toys the kids had outgrown. Now, most kids just put out a broken toy, for appearances’ sake.”

  “Well, that’s something,” I said, taking a bite of my breakfast.

  “The next day is the Lag, or Grebthar’s Eve,” stated Blots, “Depending on which kingdom you come from.”

  “The Lag?” I asked.

  “Nothing really happens on that date. There is a bit of a feast in the town square. Most families spend the day together,” replied Blots. “Typically, there is a lot of shopping done, replacing broken items and the like.”

  “Okay, seems odd that you’d wait for a specific day to fix stuff, but whatever,” I said. Both men chuckled politely.

  “Then, on Grebthar Day, we just have one huge party,” stated Mar. “It's what you do whenever anyone ReMorts.”

  “ReMorts?” I asked, sighing. I was coming off as much more of an idiot than I normally did.

  “When Grebthar went through the Demon Door, he’d be dropped back down to level one. Then, he had to do all that leveling up all over again. Wherever he reappeared, they had a huge party for him. That’s kind of the tradition now,” stated Blots.

  “Mind you, almost no one ReMorts in this age. The scribes have histories on it, though. We know it's still possible,” replied Mar.

  “Not even the kings?” I asked.

  “Certainly not,” replied Blots, shaking his head. “It takes years to recover from a ReMorting. While in recovery, you aren't that much more powerful than a normal man. A king would almost certainly be assassinated when he ReMorted.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think anyone has ReMorted in a hundred years, at least,” stated Mar, as he used a biscuit to sop up some gravy. “Imagine being at max level and then turning into nothing.”

  Blots actually chuckled, “Staring down a dragon one day and being scared of a rabbit three days later.”

  I excused myself and wandered out of the Golden Badger. Badgelor waved me off, choosing to stay on the hearth and rest. He had already had a hard day of eating and deserved a break. Shart yawned expansively on my shoulder. “I could have told you all that.”

  “But you didn’t,” I responded. “You were sitting in the corner with your thumb up your butt.” We headed toward the northeastern wall. I had some time before I was to meet up with Glorious Robert for training. I figured I might as well do some mayoring. Shart groaned.

  “More of this nonsense,” muttered the demon. “You know, you
could go other places and level up your skills faster. I mean, it's just a quick trip to Falcon Crest. There are some high-level trainers over there.”

  “And a way to remove you as my companion,” I reminded him.

  Shart growled, “Yes, there is a summoning circle that you could use to break our bond over in Falcon Crest.”

  “Just a summoning circle?” I asked, intrigued. “Couldn’t I make one of those here?”

  From his shoulder position, Shart began growing uncomfortably warm. “No, you couldn’t. You don’t have a high enough rank in the Demon Lore skill to even draw up a simple summoning circle, let alone the kind you’d need to summon me. I’m an Elder Demon! One of only two living on Ordinal! I am great and powerful! Only the mightiest summoning circle will allow me to be summoned.”

  “I thought you couldn’t lie to me?” I asked once Shart finished his spiel. “You aren’t great or powerful right now.”

  Shart grumbled, “I’m more great and powerful than you know.”

  I dropped it. Shart’s inability to lie to me was not as perfect as I had initially been led to believe. That was a by-product of Shart’s attitude. In actuality, Shart was fully able to lie but I could tell instantly that he was lying. The problem was that his opinions were just that, opinions. They didn’t trip up the filter, even when he presented his theories as facts. Also, if he “knew” something that turned out to be incorrect, it seemed to slip by as well.

  It was best to say that Shart couldn’t deliberately lie to me, which was a far cry from Shart not being able to lie to me. Of course, the demon didn’t see it that way.

  Walking past the smithy, I saw a sign posted proclaiming “All out of Nails”. I brought up the town menu and checked the mine. It was producing at normal rates, but our stock of iron in town was lower than I expected. The supply of ready boards was also pretty low, but I guessed that was related to the nails.

  I didn’t see that much unusual construction going on in town, except for the dock to the south. Making a note for Mar, I kept on walking. We had enough for the critical projects, at least. A temporary bottleneck wasn’t going to kill us.