The Dungeon Traveler

by Alston Sleet

  Clenching her hands while still holding the now wide-eyed and ecstatically smiling woman’s hands she continued, “I will return to the Church, it must know of this perversion and that the dark ones are moving against the world. With this letter, we have permission to cleanse the kingdom of this evil and the ones who deal with the darkness. I can not delay, and you must travel even more swiftly than I. Take this pouch; there are few coins, but use it to travel as quickly as you can. We must destroy this evil before it spreads.”

  Nodding, the silent armored woman tucked the coin purse away, adjusted her pack, and left.

  The old woman smiled and watched her protégé walk away before she turned toward the now uncomfortable [Courier].

  The old woman slowly walked towards the orphanage's gate and the now silently laying horse. The young [Courier] followed beside the woman even as he kept a more than respectful distance. Before he could inquire as to her message to the king, she turned toward him and smiled.

  “Since the Church can no longer recruit from the orphanage, She has no more use for it. Please let the king know he will need to find someone to administrate and pay for it,” said Mergen as she stepped out of the gateway and turned away, leaving the [Courier] the only adult standing on the orphanage’s grounds.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Great Balls of Fire

  These humans are nuts! Even crazier than the ones from the last city! Part of that might be that there was only really two factions in that city, this city though, they are just…argh! Nuts! I’ve seen a box of kittens more controlled than this.

  Things started out roughly the same as it had before. Scream! Ahh! Something strange has happened! Run for the hills! Oh, look, something weird! Perhaps I could make a profit from this! Investigate! You know; monkey see, monkey run, monkey try to profit. That is how the saying goes right?

  I wasn’t watching for much of this since I was spending my time trying to figure out what was going on with the king. I was using [Far Seeing] to watch the different interactions while I could. My attention was drawn away though when I started having memories crammed through my gem.

  Ding!

  New pattern, Skill [Guarded Stance].

  Ding!

  New pattern, Skill [Dodge].

  Ding!

  New pattern, Class [Soldier].

  …

  Two groups were standing in a guarded stance, swords and spears pointing at each other. One group wore a green tabard along with a horribly clashing light yellow trim, the center of their tabard marked with an odd wheel symbol and sword. The side with more spears had a blue tabard that only had a single black line across the front. It was more of a minimalist design that I heartily approved of.

  Those two were relatively calm even as they stared each other down, their stance slowly shifting into a three-way standoff as a third group descended the stairs in a fighting retreat. The group mostly backing down my stairs lacked tabards, but they were decked out with far more metal. Each of those in team three had chainmail, daggers at the waist, a short sword of steel, and oddly shaped helms.

  The helms really stood out to me. I’ve drawn every kind of helm that I think I had ever heard about in all of history. These matched nothing I had ever seen, and I had absolutely no clue why anyone would ever want one like it. Nose bridge guard, ok, useful…but it was combined with this odd circular top bit? Almost like a larger one of those religious cap things, the name eluded me at the moment, but it looked odd when made out metal. So that was odd, but not beyond the pale. No, it was the two freaking wings on either side combined with artistically done sideburns made of metal and ending with a leather strap to hold them on. These capped monstrosities might save you from a blow directly to the top of your head, but the rest just screamed ‘impractical.’ It was the helmed equivalent of a chainmail bikini.

  On the foot of my stairs were two men of the helmeted number who had died to deep puncture wounds, one to the throat and the other to the heart. Their remaining member had tried to hold the door but had been stabbed and thrown down the stairs onto the ones holding the stairway. Those outside were now moving in to finish the disagreement.

  All of this would have been morbidly fascinating for me when I was human. At the moment though I was almost indifferent to the entire thing since I was far more engrossed with the fact that I had been paying attention to it the whole time while at the same time as I had been watching for the king.

  I had noticed this off and on for the last few weeks, I would find myself paying attention to multiple things, and then my focus would seem to switch, and I would be narrowed in on something I had felt like I was focusing on before. It was…odd to put it lightly. Most of my focus had been drawn not by the death but by my consternation about if I should add a plaque for the deaths or not and what material to make them from. It was definitely me that was upset around the problem, but also I wasn’t thinking about it at the time, but I remember thinking about it the moment I focused on it. A very odd sensation.

  The first time I had noticed this was when I started to pay attention to my intent to refill my treasury whenever it was starting to get low. The moment I decided to shift my focus to my treasury I remembered checking before and making treasure as I needed. Even as I remembered what I hadn’t remembered before, I remembered that I had refilled my treasury the day before and I made plans to expand…and had done it already. The memories were all there, I know what I was planning to do and I even remember doing it. Heck, I remembered the decision to make a few extra orbs with the common language and the decision to drop one at each place I moved to.

  So the idea of humans dying in my vestibule to their own craziness? Not really a surprise. But finding that I could remember having thought of a snarky comment over their garish tabard? That I was interested in a confrontation when the antagonistic groups met? Even being aware that the third group had arrived and split up in an ill-fated attempt to hold the entrance and so making themselves the cork in the bottle of my dungeon entrance? All of that coming to me naturally and instantly without any disconnect of memory even as I was obviously focused somewhere else? Even the non-disconnect was weird, not because I didn’t remember any of that, but because I did even when I couldn’t have possibly have been focused on those things. All of that? That freaked me out.

  It was like having a partner inside my brain who was exactly like me, communicated through memories and had an internal dialogue that sounded exactly like me, did everything as I would…and wasn’t me. It was like having a twin that was closer than my own skin. The entire thing felt utterly normal and natural and insanely abnormal at the same exact time. All of that drew my focus pretty strongly compared to just some humans dying in an apparent attempt to monopolize my entrance. They could kill each other all day long as far as I was concerned.

  Mentally I tried to call out, “Hello? Anyone else there?”

  …

  Nothing, it was odd, but I knew it was just me in my head, or rather gem. I may have been slightly insane, which would be appropriate, all things considered, but I wasn’t experiencing the equivalent of multiple personality disorder either. It was more like when you drive somewhere and discover after you get there that you can’t remember the drive. That you had followed the traffic laws just like you usually would, or wouldn’t as the case may be, and that you got where you were going, but that the memory of the trip was gone. Total autopilot. This was the same, only more focused and the memories are all there when you go back to focusing on whatever you were on autopilot over. Useful, and it felt safe and safe but weird from a human perspective. As a test, I focused on a problem I had been meaning to solve and then focused back on the soldiers.

  Eventually, the ones trying to retreat down the stairs gathered at the base and huddled up with weapons pointing both towards the other group as well as up the stairs. While they had the better gear, except for the stupid helmets, they apparently lacked the skills of the other groups. When a single man strode down towards
my vestibule, possibly from a fourth unseen group, the helmeted weirdoes moved over making it a four-way standoff. The lone man was imposing, broad-shouldered, wearing dark leather armor with many stitched repairs, a sword held naked in his left hand, but as imposing as he was, I doubt he could take all those arrayed against him.

  Even while I thought that I watched the man’s sword shine lightly, a spell embedded deep within the sword lighting up while his right hand was wreathed in a black flame which crawled along the fingers. Normally words like ‘danced,’ or ‘flickered’ would come to mind when thinking of fire. Not in this case. This flame was pitch black, an absence of light more than it was a source even as the fire lashed out towards the other people in the room. The scary magical swordsman stood calmly not even pointing his blade at anyone while his fire kept trying to reach for anything living in the room.

  Using [Far Seeing] to check those waiting outside, I noticed the fourth group looked nothing like the man who walked in. They had yet another tabard, red with grey stars, the look they had while standing around was more angry and upset than I would expect from those with such a powerful fighter.

  “The House of Gardflow has been brought to task for harming the Merchant Coalition,” he said as he glanced at the two corpses.

  One of the men with the awful tabard stood up and put away his sword. His attempt at being unruffled was undermined by his shaking hand failing to sheath his sword. Moving to stand in front of his group he nodded at the scary flame guy who I was now insanely curious about.

  “Good, as an heir to the House of Lakefellow I will be claiming control of this dungeon,” he said even as the other group began to shout over him.

  Both sides went silent when the man snuffed out his flames with a clenched hand.

  “As always, The Guild remains neutral on all internal affairs. I was hired simply to make clear the Merchant Coalition’s stake in case an altercation may come to pass.”

  Hmm, no clue who the ‘Guild’ was, though they had a corner on the pretentious market. Whoever they were, they had some heavy hitters if this guy could just be hired out on short notice like this. I had only been sitting here for a few hours, and the ‘Merchant Coalition’ was ready to hire this guy just to make a point? Maybe he was on retainer for such a situation, or perhaps he hopped in seeing an easy payday? I would have to spy on the Merchant Coalition later and see how this played out.

  A better question had to be, who was this ‘Guild’ and why were they neutral ‘as always’? How and why is a group of merchants able to so obviously stick it to a group of the kingdom's nobles? These guys didn’t look particularly important, and even the guy who claimed to be ‘heir’ said he was ‘an’ heir not ‘the’ heir. The rest of his gear matched the group of soldiers he was with, the only difference being his sword was more ornate. Maybe a third cousin or something like that?

  Too many questions, not enough answers, but I would ‘investigate’ later. The ability to spy all over the place was a significant source of entertainment but also a great way to find out about who was who.

  Those with a blue tabard seemed unwilling to speak up without some kind of important spokesman, but they also seemed willing to shout down Lakefellow’s claim.

  The man with the still glowing sword appeared to agree with those shouting since he stepped forward a single step before responding.

  “The Council would be the place to argue that. Let us agree to allow entry to any who wish, one by one until the Council decides. A simple solution; for now, we have all heard of how this trial works. There is no need to waste and bicker.”

  We all have heard how this trial works? Excuse me? I know that Coldona’s family had promised to spread the word about me, but I hadn’t expected to be recognized here before I arrived. The poor people who had tried my trials in the last stop had needed instruction on what I was and how I worked, but these noble’s soldiers knew about my challenges? This guy in the Guild knew? My snooping suddenly shot up to a higher priority.

  The scary dude's proclamation seemed to be begrudgingly accepted by the two other groups, probably because the Council was far more on the nobles side than the merchants, which made me wonder what the merchants had planned. In the end, they eventually agreed. The green tabard group left under the eye of the swordsman, followed by the blue tabard people after a few minutes of waiting. The weird helmeted Merchant Coalition group acted very subservient as they left, almost afraid of their ally.

  While I spent some time moving my [Far Seeing] viewpoint around, arbitrarily deciding to keep an eye on the Lakefellow group, I tried to pay attention to the swordsman at the same time. I didn’t seem to be able to focus directly on two things at once, but just planning to focus on Lakefellow appeared to be enough to let me follow him while I watched the swordsman.

  Sheathing his sword, the scary, leather-clad warrior walked around my vestibule. He stopped in front of my plaque and painting, reading the challenge ‘Coldona’ gave. Interestingly, he snickered and smiled when he read Denda’s words.

  Reaching up to his leather armor, he slipped a few buttons and bared his chest to the room. His chest was crisscrossed with marks which looked like whip lines, and in the center of his chest was two circles joined with an arc. The light of the room dimmed as the black flames he had held in his hands before began to drip and snap from his eyes. The man's voice was suddenly echoing and filled with a pain I couldn’t imagine. It sounded like hundreds of voices crying out in suffering, some male, some female, most though were oddly young.

  “Denda asked if I would perform a service for Coldona, a way to atone for an act of my followers done against her while they were in pain and suffering.”

  The possessed man smiled sadly even as his voice continued to scratch against my mind.

  “Of course I would help my little sisters.”

  Crap, does every damn person know I’m sapient? Why does everyone want to do cryptic shit? Can’t they just come in and feed me? I’m offering awesome prizes for trials, come on!

  I watched as the man’s eyes stopped spitting flames and returned to their normal brown color. Buttoning up his armor, he then nodded towards the portrait of Coldona on the wall.

  “I am Melca, [Warrior Priest] of Hamndel, I bid you strength. I have done my god’s bidding, but I must not remain.”

  Taking an about-face, he walked out of my dungeon with a casual stride.

  Well, ok then. Hamndel. I will have to break down and ask Coldona about this. I need to get a basic primer on the god’s and goddesses, and if I need to watch out for any of them. It would help if I knew an ally before I accidentally killed them, or any enemies I may or may not have.

  Checking my rooms, I remembered focusing on setting up basic pictographs outside each room that ‘described’ in a clear way what the goal was for each challenge. I say I ‘remembered focusing’, but it was more of that odd not-attention thing again. My memories of actions I took but didn’t remember taking appeared like usual the moment I turned my attention to them. Useful, amazingly so, but still so odd from my point of view. This left my experiment a success. A creepy weird success.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Turn Your Problems Upside Down...or Inside Out

  Well, these humans aren’t as insane as I initially thought. They are just moderately mad. I don’t get to watch groups of guards forming up to attack each other, but they have now switched to working in nastier ways. I watched one guard get randomly shanked while exiting my champion hallway by a rival noble's guard who was waiting to use my trial. I was perfectly fine with this; more memories for me, and I even cleaned up for him. But the lack of a new plaque caused all kinds of anger and accusations that he blatantly ignored, insisting the guy, Sedron, must have just failed and the dungeon didn’t report it. Sure, buddy, they all believe you.

  After that little altercation, the different groups worked as teams hanging out in my vestibule to watch each other. This didn’t stop the problems, it just changed the nature o
f them. My personal favorite was watching one of the stupid helmeted guys stab another helmet head in the back and then walk away. I had to use [Far Seeing] to view his later actions, but he went to one of the nobles' houses, got paid and just straight up left town. I stopped spying on him at that point. The point I’m trying to make here, though, is these people are freaking nasty and nuts. More nasty than nuts.

  If it had just been the different groups of nobles fighting with each other, I wouldn’t have been worried. I was gaining all kinds of interesting patterns. Some of these people had fought some fantastic stuff and had exceptional skills. Apparently, most of them were culled from regular adventuring teams, but they were not powerful enough to join 'The Guild.' I still thought the name was pretentious as heck, but I could at least get it. The Guild killed nasty stuff to protect sapients. Pretty brave and noble if you ask me. I wonder what kind of evil crap they got up to without witnesses. Every group here seems to be chin deep in some kind of shit.

  The Guild affiliate house was the only place in the capital which was entirely blocked from scrying. I couldn’t see an inch of it. I had found other sites with scrying shields, magical viewing blockers, but it was apparently expensive and challenging to pull off. The Guild didn’t seem to care. Although their affiliate house was small and as far as I could tell just allowed information exchange from members to the guild office. I wasn’t a world-ending terror, so it wasn’t any of my business. I still had to worry about a member who might want to rampage through my dungeon just for fun, but I seemed to be beneath their notice so far.

  No, my real annoyance was the damn muttering wizard was back. The old guy managed to get here quickly which suggested a pretty powerful transportation spell. The king was only about halfway back to the capital. Sure, the king was riding in his carriage taking his sweet time about it, but still. This guy was slow and hunched over, and I can’t imagine he would enjoy riding a horse at a breakneck speed. Yet, somehow, here he was. Still wandering around my dungeon poking at things left and right, muttering as he magics my hallways and doors open. He has so far contained himself to poking at my dimensional doorways and avoiding any of my actual challenges, but it’s still driving my instincts nuts.