The Dungeon Traveler

by Alston Sleet

  Gesturing to two of the soldiers the leader gave his orders, “Jos, Welton, you two take this ‘Hall of the Fallen’ we will hold here. Report back in no less than ten.”

  The two indicated soldiers nodded and turned to my memorial hallway; weapons at the ready. They quickly checked out the nearly empty hall, though they spent a moment at Jorgen’s plaque. When they passed through the looping hallway which I had set up to take them back to the vestibule, I enjoyed the look of confusion that they had. They went in a hallway and left from the far side…and now they were back in the vestibule from the ‘Hall of Champions’ side.

  Fun.

  “Uh, sir?”

  Man, I know it’s not nice, but that look was just amazing. It was like seeing a monkey try and understand calculus. I was never really the smartest man in the room when I was human. I was going to enjoy the fact that I got to be the smart one with these people. Petty and small of me, but so very satisfying. Knowing that I could just make them run around in circles and that none of them would ever get a chance to hurt me, that I could play with them like toys, it was intoxicating.

  Once the leader understood the report itself, he had his team repeat their movements and watched for them from the entrance of the ‘Hall of Champions.’ From his point of view, they seemed to slip from the wall and expand into full people almost instantly. From their point of view, their captain was just standing there looking through them then was suddenly looking at them.

  Oh man, I was loving this. The dwarves and kobolds had just seemed to accept that things were screwy in my dungeon, but these humans, Oh man, they wanted to figure it out. The captain's face was flushing red as he marched around trying to figure out what was going on. He looped around at least six times trying to find the point where he snapped out of the wall, or where the wall opened up. His men kept trying to yell to him to stop as he came out and he would turn to try and back up only to have the wall behind him. I could have told him that it would never work, the space he was passing through was razor thin from both directions. The hall side narrowed down from the walls to that razor edge while the other side just bluntly went from the wall to the narrow gap. The warped space was shaped like an arrow slit, sharp and thin on one side and wide to narrow on the other. He wasn’t slipping through.

  Finally, he marched over to the challenge doorway, though he included Jos and Welton with him. I just turned the hallway back to the Hallway of Champions. For right now I was only allowing single person challenges. This constant training period of trying to get people to just go in one by one said I needed to add more plaques with instructions. I had thought the big words that read ‘Physical,’ ‘Mind,’ ‘Hall of Champions,’ and ‘Hall of the Fallen,’ would be enough but it apparently wasn’t.

  I should have known it wasn’t enough though. I had been too lost in seeing things from my own point of view. I had been tied up in the idea of this being a game to think it through. These people worked in teams, the world was just too dangerous otherwise. I bet some people went out and killed monsters by themselves, but I bet they also called those people insane.

  They either ended up really strong or really dead.

  Eventually, the captain seemed to decide that they weren’t getting through and decided to wait in the vestibule. Outside I watched five more men in armor walk up while a tall blond man marched in the center of the formation. When he reached my entrance, he continued in while three of his guard waited outside with only two following him inside.

  “What the hell is this Galand?”

  The captain stood a bit straighter before answering, his men looking away from the confrontation.

  “Lord Mayor, this is some kind of dungeon,” pointing to the plaque he went silent as the blond man read the plate.

  “So, have you tried one of these challenges?”

  “No sir, the Challenge doorway just…it…well, it’s some kind of magic fuckery. It keeps sending us back here.”

  The crude words and exasperation didn’t seem appropriate to me when talking to some big wig like the ‘Lord Mayor,’ but he didn’t seem to care either way. The Lord Mayor ordered his team to form up and try one of these challenges, more soldiers was better, as the thinking goes. Of course, the exact opposite of the solution, but I had to expect that. Even in my human days, the idea of ‘more power!’ being the solution was pretty rampant.

  After the Lord Mayor’s troops repeated the same loops that the captain’s had, they collectively seemed to shrug in confusion and march out. The captain left two guards to watch the doorway with orders to stop people from going in and to report if anything tried to escape.

  I thought this would be the end of things for the next thirty days. Boring, but it would give me a chance to keep growing further down. The lack of lives would probably have been a severe hindrance to a regular dungeon core, the lack of experience and memories, but for me, it didn’t matter as much. Though I did miss the memories of life, the taste of food, even the sweat of hard work. All those memories and sensations.

  The two guards waited outside my entrance bored while the city around them slowed then fell to the silence of the night. My attention was drawn to my entry though when I watched two men, one small and furtive while the other was overweight and dressed in expensive clothes, approach the soldiers. The large one quizzed the guards about my dungeon, with a few coins exchanging hands before they walked down the stairs into my entrance room.

  The large man glanced around the room then relaxed.

  “Mern, check out the looping rooms please,” the large man said in a dismissive tone while ogling the portrait.

  The shorter man nodded then hunched over further drawing two long daggers from his overcoat. His blades were in that odd range between short swords and long knives. The blades were a matched pair, sharpened on both sides and slim with wicked looking points. The blades had been hidden within his coat in cloth sleeves sewn into the jacket. They appeared to be designed to be pulled downward with a cross draw. Whatever this man did for a living, he was prepared to gut someone on short notice.

  He marched into my challenge hall but stopped at the two main gateways between physical and mental. He paused when the hallway didn’t loop around as the soldier had claimed, but it didn’t seem to be the real issue. I watched his lips move as he tried to sound out the two signs over his two options. Once he figured out one was ‘physical,’ he turned that way. He barely slowed when he reached the next room where the different options were available. He merely picked a doorway - in this case, agility - and continued on.

  As I had come to expect, the copper agility challenge was simple and easy. This man appeared to be all about agility anyways, he practically moved through the room at a walking pace. The short man’s movements were smooth as he hopped across the divides. Once he touched down on the side with the pedestal, his prize, two copper coins, clunked down. The man’s movements switched into hyperdrive, his body dodging away from the noise as his two daggers scissored in front of himself reflexively. He kept moving as he sidestepped, his legs never crossing in front of each other, his strafing more like low bounds instead of steps. Once he determined that nothing was about to attack, he smiled, his rotten teeth poking out of his lips. With the rotten teeth, the scraggly beard, the two daggers, and his body bent in a pose ready to lunge, he made the nonexistent skin up my spine crawl.

  Stuffing the two coins into a hidden slip of leather that was tucked behind the strap of leather he called a belt, the disgusting man scampered to the exit door. He bobbed his head out the door to check if the coast was clear before he exited but compared to the lizards he had been careless. Still hunched over he walked through my Hall of Champions until he exited into my vestibule.

  The entire time his compatriot had challenged my arena the large man had just looked around my vestibule, the portrait had taken up most of his attention, but the columns, ceiling, and other god's paintings had also had his scrutiny. The sound of Mern’s shuffled steps drew his atten
tion, but he waited for his minion to approach, his focus once again on my goddess.

  “So? Magic loops was it?” asked the large man dismissively.

  Mern’s accent was horrible, his words slurring and stuttered a bit with odd pauses.

  “No Sur. Was…broken floor place…made some coin…got ‘chievement…came back here but…here shouldn’t have been here?”

  The last was said with a bit of confusion on the man’s face although his confusion faded when the larger man smiled indulgently at him.

  Mern just stood placidly, seemingly perfectly fine with waiting as long as his boss wanted. The larger man stared out into space while he tapped his lips with his beringed hands. I felt a bit of a chill when I watched the well-dressed man smile and pat his shorter compatriot on the back then turn to leave my dungeon. Mern put his daggers away, as he fell back behind his boss, the action well practiced.

  Outside the rich man passed a few more coins to the guards, instructing them to forget he had visited, a request the two guards seemed happy to oblige.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Scammer Going to Scam

  Sometime around four in the morning, maybe five, a cart packed overfull of bricks rolled up to my gateway. The donkey hauling the cart was struggling mightily, but the beefy man walking in front of the animal never slowed. The man had a shaggy bowl haircut, looking like someone chopped his hair with a knife, his attire was just as dull. He wore a slightly stained tan tunic, darker brown pants with cord drawstring, and light leather footwear, all with a hint of brick dust. Behind the large laborer were two further haulers with wagons, these with wood and large paving slab stones.

  The two soldiers commanded them to halt, which the bricklayer did, even as he signaled his two following carts to move around beside my gateway. The soldiers started querying what the bricklayer was doing before the large, rich man from the night before walked around from the back of the group to meet them.

  “Gentlemen, good morning,” the merchant’s smile was genial, but neither soldier seemed confident that it was, in fact, a good morning.

  “Mister Saltfelt,” one of the soldiers started before he seemed to reconsider how he was going to continue, “Uh…we will have to report if you start dragging all manner of things into the dungeon, sir.”

  I think the soldiers were considering how they had taken a bribe before when no one would know, but now it was morning, and this was a bit more blatant than what they had been expecting.

  “I own this land. I have my land claim right here, I will be building a shop right here. Yes, I think this will be a lovely spot. Been leaving this land unused too long. Never really had a use for it before. I just let the Lord Mayor use it for hangings before, seemed like a public good and all, but he never paid rent so, well, I am an [Merchant] I need to make a profit!”

  The rich man was talking right over the soldier, and at significant volume as well. Some of the passersby had stopped to see what the fuss was. After all, three overburdened carts, three donkeys, two soldiers, a bricklayer, two carpenters, a merchant, and a sizeable free-standing stone gateway were all situated in what was an open area the day before. It was a bit of a spectacle.

  “No, No, it’s perfectly fine. I’m sure the Lord Mayor didn’t want you to stop me from building my shop, he just wanted you to guard here. It’s fine gentlemen, not a problem, not a problem. Just scoot over a bit and stand guard and we can get on with our day, yes? Good, good.”

  This guy was amazing. He was steamrolling these guards perfectly. I wasn’t sure of the dynamic here, but apparently, the Lord Mayor and the guard captain by extension were not so in control of the city that they could just stop this [Merchant] from doing what he wanted on his own property. If it was his private property. I had doubts about that.

  Eventually, the two soldiers moved away a bit, a bit befuddled, before one whispered to his partner and ran off, I assume to report. The [Merchant] noticed the entire byplay but didn’t seem worried. The bricklayer and carpenters got down to the business of laying out a foundation around my gateway. First, they chalked out an outline for a small area, then they used picks to rip up the large cobblestones that surrounded my portal. They actually left a beautiful pattern of stones around my gateway, a pretty touch.

  While working on clearing the stones, one of the carpenters casually lobbed a rock through my gateway and into my vestibule. The stone had a long piece of cloth like paper wrapped around it. When I consumed it, I could see the message written on it.

  The rich man serves me and my interests.

  - Denda.

  I would have to ask Coldona later what was going on and what Denda’s plan was, but for now, I would let them build their shop without moving my gateway. Though the temptation to wait until they were done and then move was almost unbearable.

  By this point, the captain from last night marched up with a small troop of men.

  “What is the fucking meaning of this you leech!”

  Oooh, first contact with the enemy, no plan, no intel, and a direct attack. Someone didn‘t read their Sun Tzu; it was published in another universe, so perhaps he could be forgiven.

  “Lord Vertan, it is a good morning don’t you think? Leech? Did you have some ailment? I might have medical leeches in stock, I could probably find some for you. I hear they are good for hemorrhoids.”

  Damn! I’ve never seen someone turn purple like that. He needs to take a deep breath...or any breath. I honestly was feeling worried about Saltfelt, wordplay is all well and good until the other side decides to move on to using steel. From the white-knuckled grip he had on his sword hilt, Lord Vertan was considering it.

  Stressing the merchant's lack of title, Lord Vertan responded, “Mister Saltfelt, what are you doing? This dungeon is a danger to the city, and you will remove yourself.”

  Saltfelt just waved away Lord Vertan’s comment, “Oh, nonsense. I’m just putting up a shop on some land that has been sitting fallow for far too long. I’ve been meaning to use this land for a long time, but I just haven’t bothered yet.”

  Saltfelt then whipped out a rolled up scroll from inside his jacket and passed it over to Lord Vertan.

  Lord Vertan took the scroll and took a short step back and to Saltfelt’s left before opening it and starting to read.

  “This purchase grant claims to be a year old, but the ink is still wet on it!”

  Lord Vertan seemed to be ecstatic to have something to use against the [Merchant], but Saltfelt smiled placidly in response.

  “Oh, yes, that is just a copy of the claim. I have a few more here with me. The original claim you will find is in the city claims office, in last years book, appropriately aged, and I’ve even paid taxes for this land even as others have used it for the last year. All legal and on the up and up, of course.”

  Saltfelt then started to move back towards the laborers, calling out instruction on where to situate the door of his new ‘shop’ before turning back to Lord Vertan.

  “You may keep that copy, you might wish to let the Lord Mayor know that he may no longer use my land for free. I've let it go without issue, hangings are so useful for the public moral after all, but I will require rent in the future. Let him know I’m agreeable to negotiate on that when he has time.”

  Josedus slowed his horse as when he noticed the latest private to his guard detail sidling his horse up to his. This same routine had played out throughout the years, but it was never easy. With the king riding along in his carriage on this excursion, it wasn’t a particularly good time for it though. The young man, no more than seventeen at most, had taken all the same elite training as every other member of his, or the king's, guard. Josedus had learned throughout the years of being what was primarily the visible half of the [Spy Master] team that it wasn’t the young men who asked the questions which needed to be watched, it was the silent ones who never seemed to question things. Maybe it was anxious thoughts, or perhaps suppressed worries about a guilty conscious, but they always wante
d to know the same thing.

  “Sir, I was wondering,” asked young Kendun, “um, that is if I’m allowed to know, um, how exactly does the king's skill work?”

  Trying to resist the urge to sigh Josedus pulled closer to Kendun’s horse before replying in an even tone.

  “When someone acts against the good of the kingdom the king knows about it. The more severe the act, the more his skill reacts. If someone acts in such a way that his skill considers it a rebellion, then the bonus for his high-level skill kicks in. Then he can track the person involved.”

  The [Royal Diviner] stopped here and hoped the young man would take the hint from his slightly chilly voice and ask no further questions, but he did not.

  “So, wouldn’t that mean his skill would be tracking every bandit or cutpurse? That would drive me nuts.”

  “Private,” Josedus snapped at his guard causing him to straighten in his saddle, “the king is made of sterner stuff than either of us. He has leveled his skill to a high level and can track a rebel from anywhere in the kingdom. His skill is so high it will even track the best course to the rebel scum!“

  The diviner congratulated himself for his pious words; the king was right there, even this little exchange was being sensed as low-level rebelliousness. Later he would send a message to the [Spy Master] reporting this conversation asking to have private Kendun, and his family investigated. It would come to nothing and would be a waste of time and resources, but the king's paranoia had grown since the death of the old mage.

  Kendun rode silently next to the older mage for a while, the number of the king’s outriders making this trip relatively relaxed and informal versus the strict formation riding the [Royal Diviner’s] troop leader would typically require. After a few minutes of silent riding, enjoying the cold fresh air, the young man asked another question. This was probably the question that had been on his mind.

  “Sir…Some rumor says we are going to destroy Vermild? That’s not true though right sir? I have family there…um…”