“Life is a journey that must be traveled no matter how bad the roads and accommodations.” – Oliver Goldsmith

  It was not long after I’d completed that quest that I had my very first sapient, humanoid (non-dungeon fairy) visitor. The hawk-eagle had given me the first alert, her sharp eyes having noted a small flying skiff setting down near the edge of the sky island less than a kilometer to the north in the late afternoon. My quick glance through her eyes revealed only three individuals on the ship, and I assumed I was the target of their visit, largely due to the proximity of their landing.

  All three males had a classically elven look to them, standing about 1.6 m tall, with pointed ears, relatively long, braided hair, and almond-shaped eyes. Two wore what looked like a simple naval uniform in shades of blue-grey and remained near the skiff, which they had secured to a large granite outcrop near the cliff edge. The third had a more interesting, camouflaged look, in shades of green and brown and with a tattered texture likely helping to break up his silhouette. That one nimbly scaled the outcrop to take visual stock of the surrounding terrain. It seemed clear that my general direction, at least, was known, as his focus was partly towards the central mountain, and partly southward toward my surface zone.

  The weather seeming clear and relatively warm, they set up camp, making do with a small, smokeless fire, simple bedrolls, and sporadic nervous glances towards the central mountain peak. The odd elf out, presumably accustomed to scouting work from his garb, diversified his nervous glances with some occasional glances in my direction. I gathered that it would not be until the morning that any attempt would be made to contact me, though I obviously couldn’t be certain of that.

  Not to jump to any conclusions, but I suspected this was the dungeon inspector Aven had warned me would come; I was only surprised it had taken them this long to turn up. Either new dungeons weren’t all that rare or interesting, or getting to the sky island at all represented a significant challenge. Or, I guess, the magic/technology for detecting a new dungeon might be uncommon or not very sensitive. I sent the Hawk-eagle to get a little closer, hoping to get within earshot of the camp. Once it had soared in to within about half a kilometer, though, it drew immediate attention from the ranger elf, who called out to his companions and gestured at the Hawk-eagle. I had it immediately pull up, not wanting to set off a conflict. The elves eyed it for a while, but as it settled into a roost, they did the same, breaking out some rations and preparing a meal. I did send a ground squirrel in closer in order to listen; either they didn't notice, or ignored it as obviously no threat to them.

  The Learn Languages skill appeared to be quite broken, as coupled with my eidetic memory, I picked up the grammatical structure of the language quite rapidly, added vocabulary seamlessly, and could even somehow identify loanwords from other languages. By the time the group turned in, leaving a single member on a rotating watch, I had a working grasp of the language.

  I spent some time making sure I had my mana light system fully set up, with at least three small lights in each room, with a classic red-yellow-green pattern. I couldn’t really assume they had the same cultural traditions I did, but I decided we could establish some meanings easily enough. Otherwise, I went through and set my traps to a disarmed state and notified my various creatures what was coming. I couldn’t communicate with them, exactly, but I could at least convey the sense that they could defend themselves but should not initiate any conflicts. As night fell, I had the shade owl take over watching the camp, doing so more discreetly from within the forest edge to the east of the camp.

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  **** POV – Ornthalas ****

  I settled in for the night with a sigh of relief. I ran a hand through my carefully ragged hair and rubbed my temples. Having eaten a simple meal of dried rations with the last of the fresh fruit and set out a basic array of ward stones, I lay back in my bedroll, looking up at the stars.

  It’s been a long day on top of a long month. I really could use that vacation about now.

  It’s not that the journey to the sky island had been particularly dangerous or even all that difficult, but it WAS hugely inconvenient, with long stretches of waiting interspersed with periodic episodes of excitement and hustling. There had been the need to sign out the standard package of new dungeon materials, as well as the meeting with the guildmaster to review proper procedures.

  I think she needed it as much as I did – we haven’t had a new dungeon in our region for over 20 years. And the last one reported on a sky island was a couple of centuries ago, before any of our time – and it didn’t seem to last long according to the records.

  Then there was the need to requisition a sky skiff and arrange for some sailors from the royal air fleet. It had taken me several days to work my way free from the guild, then another week to reach, and secure permission to enter, the closest airbase; it wasn’t enough of a priority to warrant faster, more expensive modes of travel. The sailors needed supplies for the trip and a presumed multiple day stay (to be on the safe side), and it had taken another couple of days to get that all together.

  I can probably run through all the procedures in a day, given the limited time the dungeon’s been around, but it’d be a nightmare to run out of time and have to come back! I’d never hear the end of it. Besides, who am I kidding? I’m legitimately excited to check out the new dungeon; it’s almost certainly going to be a letdown, probably a core room with a tiny tunnel to the surface and a goblin with a rusty knife, but you never know! That’s the exciting part of the whole job – no two dungeons are alike, and they change with every new visit! I’m hoping there’s enough going on with this one to make the whole trip worthwhile.

  I caught myself smiling like a fool and refocused my attention on the job at hand.

  Of course, one way or another, this dungeon is going to be a massive problem for anyone to visit. I had to talk the navy and the individual sailors down about the damn dragon. I mean, I get it, but the dragon hasn’t made an appearance in several years and isn’t likely to get upset about a brief visit to inspect a new dungeon. I hope. Gendras, Protector of Rangers, let the dragon sleep through my visit! At the very worst, we’ll have to hope it’ll settle for just slaughtering the three of us – and probably the dungeon, too – if we annoy it enough; I really don’t want to be remembered as the idiot who brought a dragon down on the kingdom.

  It was a hopeful sign that the dungeon was active enough to be spying on us. Odds were against it being sapient, of course, but that Hawk-eagle had clearly been a dungeon creature sent to observe us. The sailors couldn’t tell it from a normal bird, but you don’t spend decades moving in and out of dungeons without getting a sense of when they’re watching you! There was no indication that the dragon, or any other monster for that matter, had registered our presence. That doesn’t mean much, of course, but I’ll take what I can get!

  Well, I will get this show on the road at first light. A quick meal and a deliberate approach to the south should work fine. Just like the dragon, really, there’s no percentage in surprising the dungeon or giving it a hostile impression... No sudden moves!

  I gave one more yawn, and rolled onto my side, forcing my mind, through long practice, to let go of the concerns of the coming day. With the ease of a practiced explorer, I slipped into the dreamless, comforting embrace of Xevia, goddess of slumber.