"The one real goal of education is to leave a person asking questions." -- Max Beerbohm

  Abandoning excavations for the time being, I returned my focus to the main dungeon and set about planning my second floor. I was envisioning two main chambers. The first one representing the farming part of the site and occupied by warhorse skeletons, feral boars, and probably some straight up dungeon chickens for comic relief. Might experiment a bit on the domestic chickens to see if I could make them at least a minimal threat... The second one would be focused on the main residence and occupied primarily by Aubesan skeletons. There I might see if I could use the house mice to attempt some minimal thievery from the unwary. Each main chamber was likely to have some subareas – ranging from a horse paddock and farrier shop to a kitchen. It wouldn’t be particularly accurate, but I’d probably throw some traps in as well; I’ll try to make them at least tangentially related. I’d likely need to expand beyond that eventually, but I’d like to have a broader archaeological sample to work with before adding rooms beyond that.

  To do so, I started by expanding the main hallway to the site – radiating outward from both sides and extending downwards. I dedicated roughly 2/3 the distance to an open pastureland surrounded by open oak forest, with the pastureland loosely enclosed by fieldstone walls. They weren’t really convincing environments, given my limited scale, but a 50 m X 50 m paddock would be enough for the three Greater Warhorse skeletons I was planning on. I tried for narrow gallery forests on either side of the paddock extending another 25 m or so on each side; I figured two Feral boars with four regular domestic pigs on each side (mostly to add some realistic chaos) plus a flock of 20 chickens with free range of the whole chamber. I had first installed enough mana lights to provide an approximation of a day/night cycle then added the vegetation and the walls. I was just getting around to messing with the chickens when Aven finally returned with an audible *pop*.

  *Well, someone’s been a busy dungeon. Care to give me an update and walk me through your plans?*

  That, obviously, took quite a while as I needed to run through the visits from the dungeon inspector and the dragon, as well as the goblins before addressing my quest progress, archaeological work, and immediate plans.

  Aven, for their part, nodded along as I recounted the dungeon inspection with minimal, generally approving comments. The dragon’s visit warranted a long, low whistle, encouragement to abide by the agreement fastidiously for the foreseeable future, and general admiration for the way I’d handled the conversation. The goblins seemed like a complete non-issue to Aven, and I didn’t get the sense I should expect more than sporadic visits to the first floor from them.

  *They’ll want the herbs and weapons but will likely only risk the dungeon under fairly dire circumstances given their initial results. That’s fine, though; you’re not likely to get anything really worthwhile out of them.*

  Aven was more interested in the archaeological quests and their rewards than the others.

  *It’s the skills it’s giving you that are interesting, really* they said, when questioned.

  *Getting skills is pretty uncommon, really, especially at lower levels – normally they aren’t that useful when starting out, so the focus is on gaining blueprints for monsters and loot. Clearly the system feels like you’re going to need them to progress in that quest line, though the blueprints you ARE getting suggests it approves of your thematic idea.*

  Aven gave a little headshake and a shrug.

  *Those are just some very weird, very specific skills, and I’d bet quite a lot on the notion that you are the only being to ever receive them – or at least in a very long time. Well, it’s likely that someone got Aerial Survey before, but probably not a dungeon. I know I’ve never heard of any of those skills, and I spend my days reviewing dungeons’ status sheets. For a traditional dungeon, they’d be completely useless, but you are anything but traditional... It’s fascinating, really, though it probably limits how useful I can be to you. I can still help on these early levels. And until you figure out what exactly the God who put you here wants you to do, you might as well focus on some standard dungeon building.*

  *Well, I appreciate any help you can offer and frankly, I just enjoy having someone I can talk to who isn’t utterly terrifying. The dungeon inspector seemed nice enough, but being limited to yes, no, and unsure is pretty restrictive. And you know the goblins weren’t great conversationalists!*

  *I don’t terrify you, huh?* Aven teased, *Clearly you don’t appreciate my eldritch powers, properly! Don’t underestimate me, just because I’m small!* Aven darted around striking theatrically menacing poses for effect, with a shark-like grin on their face.

  Aven’s mental tone made it clear they’d taken no real offense. It was quite possible there was quite a lot of power there, but they were also invested in helping, so actually trying to intimidate me wasn’t really necessary or helpful.

  *Can’t really speak to your eldritch powers, of course, but at least you aren’t radiating a constant aura of menace and barely restrained bloodlust like my neighbor. Pretty sure she came in with the intent of destroying me initially. Think she decided there was no need to piss off some deity, and I seemed appropriately cowed. Which, you know, I totally was. Terrifying and somehow utterly majestic at the same time.*

  *Ha ha! Sounds like someone’s got a crush...*

  *Maybe a bit, though in an utterly nonromantic kind of way. How should I put it? It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff and admiring the view – gorgeous, and terrifying, and with no intention at all of taking that next step! No, I think I’m going to concentrate on being a good neighbor who requires no attention. I’ll play the gracious host if she comes back, but I’m going to work on making that unnecessary.*

  Aven shrugged their agreement. *Yeah, probably your best move. Making friends with her would be ideal, but you don’t really have much to offer her at the moment, aside from some potentially interesting conversation. And dragons aren’t generally particularly social – or so I understand. If that changes, you could try to move to a different basis – but I wouldn’t do any pushing at all currently.*

  I decided I should ask a few of the questions I’d come up with since their last visit. I thought I’d start with the most pressing one.

  *So, now that I have a good start on my second floor, I’ve been meaning to ask... How do I move my core down to the second floor? Do I have to jury rig some sort of gravity-driven pathway and roll there? Can I get one of my dungeon creatures to pick me up and carry me? Is there some sort of spatial magic I can do to simply pop from one spot to the next?*

  Aven chortled at the image of me simply rolling down to the second floor along a carved pathway. *Ha! I suppose you could do it that way, but can you really imagine a sub-sapient dungeon figuring out how to do that? No, you’re overthinking it. Once the second floor is mostly complete (at least from the system’s perspective), then you’ll be given the option to relocate instantaneously within a specific room of the new floor. From there you’ll need to make direct adjustments if you want to move from their default placement. I’ll warn you, though, there are some rather inflexible rules about placement of cores. The system will require your core to be within one level of your deepest level; you’ll need to have continued access to the surface with no restrictions smaller than 1 m X 1 m at any place between you and the open air (though you can make that access as winding and inconspicuous as you’d like). You’ll be able to absorb more mana if you keep a larger and more direct pathway, as well. You'll also need to be within 150 meters of the center of your surface territory at the time of placement and you can only move it upon completion of a new level and only when no intruders are present. Basically, you can’t simply hide your core and make it completely inaccessible to intruders, nor can you move it away from them during an active delve, though decoys and traps are permissible.*

  *So I could make the main dungeon essentially separate from my core, as long as I have a 1m X 1m shaft to the surface?*

  Aven cocked their head quizzically. *Well, yes and no. First, anyone happening across that shaft who is sensitive to mana would likely recognize it as a short cut to your core, and that could be very bad. One featherfall potion and a good shield and you’re in a real risky situation. More to the point, without direct connection to your core room, the other rooms you have created would enter a state of mana starvation fairly directly, and your spawned monsters and traps would be unable to respawn once cleared – depending on how self-sufficient they are, they might even despawn directly. As you may have guessed, you also can’t actively change the layout of your dungeon while invaders are present. The God of All Dungeons has to enforce some basic rules or no one would ever enter a dungeon!”

  I sighed, mentally, no easy gaming the system for me then. *Just a thought, I guess. I think my dungeon instincts are pushing me to focus on core defense, even if you tell me it isn’t likely to be necessary, really. I mean, unless I become an inordinate danger to the world at large.*

  Aven nodded *Yes, that’s likely true. To be fair, while the current era is generally safe enough for dungeon cores, that hasn’t always been the case, and there’s always the occasional bad actor. And as with any living being, the most successful individuals are those who manage to stay alive when others fail. Dungeons don’t reproduce in the same way as most beings, but the system does seem to adapt to those external pressures*

  I moved on to my next question, unrelated though it felt. *Maybe I should ask a couple of my simpler questions before we come back to some deeper ones? Do mana lights work to support natural plant growth like sunlight? Or does it not matter for dungeon spawned plants? Or is there some other mechanism involved? I notice that what plants I do have don’t seem to suffer from a lack of sunlight, though they do need access to soil and water.*

  Aven seemed to find that one a bit of a poser. *Frankly, I’m not really sure how it works. I will say you don’t really need to worry about that one. I’ve seen surface plants transplanted into deep dungeon levels and they seem to do fine; I don’t think it’s the lights, since as a dungeon you can make plants thrive in complete darkness. I’d guess having suitable lights, water, and soil would drop the mana cost of supporting them substantially, though. And it might be an issue for some of your more delicate, magical plants.*

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

  I suppose there’s no reason to expect a dungeon fairy to be knowledgeable about UV light, photosynthesis, and plant growth, as long as it’s not really an issue. *I guess you’re right. I do like to know how things work, but that’s not really a pressing concern at the moment. I’ll just be happy it works and worry about WHY it works later.

  So skipping around, my next question is what exactly is a Field Boss? Specifically, I got a quest that says if I expand more on the surface, I’ll get a T2 Field Boss. I was curious how strong that would be and whether it would be tricky to maintain or support. What can you tell me?*

  I’m not sure what it was exactly, but Aven’s body language suggested they were pleased to be back on solid ground as an advisor.

  *Ah, well, THAT I can talk to you about. Generally speaking, standard dungeons normally gain a boss monster at level four or five; it’s not unusual to see sapient dungeons get them earlier, though. They’re not all that different from regular monsters of that level, usually, though they tend to be substantially more dangerous (the equivalent of a regular monster from several dungeon levels lower). Field bosses are the equivalent for surface dungeons, though I’d expect you’d be challenged to support one until you hit at least the third level, just on the basis of mana expenditures. I know how you’re theming the second level; is there a theme for the surface and first level? That will likely structure the kind of field boss you are given.*

  That made perfect sense to me, though it did raise another question. *Yeah, I wasn’t really planning to work on that quest just yet, anyways. My default theme for the first floor is just to have it reflect the current occupation of the island – you know, minus the dragon... So mostly the native wild creatures I’m being provided blueprints for. How does the system know what kinds of blueprints to give me? Is it just based on the local flora and fauna?*

  *At least to start with, yeah, pretty much. Once the system gets a better handle on your theme, it tends to start trying to predict the things you’ll need. Until then, though, you’re likely to get blueprints for species it considers local and ones that match your affinities. Also ones that seem like a logical progression from species you already are familiar with. Not sure how well it will predict your historical themes; I’m not entirely sure if it will have access to the history of the sky island before you uncover it. There’s a lot of debate in the dungeon fairy community as to whether the system is run by a sapient, omniscient deity or runs mostly on autopilot, or both. I lean towards both, personally – most dungeons don’t seem like they warrant a lot of attention, but the ones that do seem to get it! With divinely placed dungeons, in particular, the assumption is that the sponsoring deity has SIGNIFICANT input into quests and rewards.*

  *Oh. Not sure if that’s reassuring or worrying... some of both there too, I guess. Is it possible for me to adapt the blueprints I’ve been provided to create something new? Fire-breathing chickens or something like that?*

  *Snort. No doubt that would be entertaining to see. Short answer is probably not any time soon. You can learn a skill that would enable you to make some significant alterations, but you’d need to both gain the skill and level it up before you can make chickens breathe fire. The first few levels would likely allow you to make them a bit bigger, a bit meaner, a little smarter, or a bit more colorful, but that’s about it. By the time your level is in double digits, you should be able to do more substantive alterations – maybe sooner given your unusual knowledge level. You can secure new blueprints by constructing objects from your existing materials, as sort of a shortcut, but living creatures are another matter entirely*

  *Ah well, something to look forward to, I suppose. Just imagining some low-level adventurer being chased around by fire-breathing chickens warms my (apparently) cold, crystalline heart! Anyone who ever worked where I did in my old world would know that chickens can be nasty, aggressive beasts at heart! When left to fend for themselves, they take no nonsense if they manage to survive.*

  *Oh, trust me, given my default size, I can assure you they’re the same way here. No real threat to fairies, of course, but the few instances I’ve come across chickens in this world, they’ve immediately tried to eat me!* With a flash of their predatory grin, I felt safe in assuming any chicken that survived the experience wouldn’t try THAT a second time.

  I tried to rack my mind for other questions that had been bothering me.

  *I know I have some other questions, but they’re slipping my mind at the moment. Well, before I forget, can I get you to issue me another quest? I’m all for the extra incentives! Oh, and is there any way to contact you without you having to come here?*

  Aven pondered that for a moment, before visibly coming to a decision. *Well, the quest is easy enough – issuing them is a standard part of the dungeon fairy class*

  Quest Reissued: Complete 5 quests and begin 3rd floor; Reward – T3 creature blueprint and loot blueprint.

  *It’ll be a while before you finish that one, I’m afraid, but as you get more practiced and more capable, the quests get harder – more work, but better rewards – you know how it goes. As for contacting me, that’s rather less standard since many dungeons can be quite needy – but I’ll take a chance on you. Do keep in mind that the deity who placed you here likely wants you to figure things out on your own (or they’d have given you more information). As such, I’m going to give you a message stone that will allow you to ask one simple question per week and to let you signal me in an emergency. Just note that if your questions get too complicated, you won’t get good answers.* Aven gave a gentle shrug, giving the basic vibe that he didn’t really expect me to be a problem, really.

  I gave a mental chuckle with a shrug of my nonexistent shoulders. *I’ll try not to pester you, but I do appreciate the vote of confidence. I keep expecting more visitors, but it’s been pretty slow. I think, anyways. I have no idea what kind of traffic most dungeons get. I just assume my general inaccessibility and the grouchy dragon are discouraging.*

  Aven gave a hesitant nod and ambivalent hand gesture. *Yah, that’s an issue, no doubt - though it’s pretty variable. Some dungeons are slammed from Day 1, while others get almost no visitors beyond a semi-annual inspection. Convenience is a factor, but so are the themes and rewards. Plus sapient and divine dungeons are generally a draw for specific sets of visitors. You’ll get some visitors, despite the dragon, but they’re likely being delayed by logistical concerns – few people have ready access to flying ships, for instance, and if you’re chartering a flight, it makes sense to wait until the sky island is at its closest. Hadn’t really thought about it, but you may see new visitors and new inspectors every time you cross national borders – well, excepting some of the less developed realms. You will pass over some fairly wild areas, and the ocean-based realms may not bother with a dungeon flying over; you’d be a whole extra level of inaccessible for merfolk, after all! Contrarily, you might get extra visitors when you pass over some of the mountain kingdoms – they tend to be popular with flighted races. They tend to have fewer dungeon explorers, though – a lot of flying beings are uncomfortable underground – the field part of the dungeon should see more traffic then, at least.

  And I’d bet, once your theme becomes clear, you may get visits from interested scholars – though in my experience that’s a mixed bag at best. Scholars in the field cover a broad range of knowledge, capability, and levels of annoying pedantry. The good news is that they likely won’t expect a dungeon to have a truly accurate representation of ancient cultures – they'll just expect you to be looting what was already present. That might change, over time, of course.

  The central mystery of your divine quest is also likely to draw curious investigators from a variety of religions as well. If it is ever determined WHICH deity put you here, that’ll narrow the focus. You’ll get more visitors from that pantheon and fewer from all the other ones.*

  Aven shrugged its shoulders and flitted about. *Now, how about you talk to me about how you plan to expand the second floor. Also, what’s with the secret library? I thought your plan was to set up a more accessible library for scholars?*

  I’d have flushed a bit in embarrassment, had I the wherewithal. *Yeah, not entirely sure why I’m keeping it under lock and key for the time being. At the moment, the point is moot, since I don’t have any visitors interested in scholarly pursuits just yet. I’m going to go ahead and blame that on my dungeon instincts wanting to keep valuable knowledge as a reward. I’ll probably be continuing to flesh out my collection as I get a spare moment; currently I’m focused on non-fiction that might be of interest to scholars, but I may crank out some other books just for fun. Any requests? Pretty sure it’ll get faster and easier as I get some practice, and the eidetic memory I was given seems to include everything I ever read that doesn’t include forbidden knowledge. That causes some weird redactions in the post-apocalyptic fiction I sometimes read – the details of most of the apocalypses are wholly obscured leaving only hints. I could possibly figure out some of the things I’m not supposed to share, but frankly I don’t want to risk being sanctioned and a lot of that genre wasn’t really that well written. A few were excellent in providing social commentary and others had great character driven plots, but the bulk were thinly veiled male fantasies. Sadly, without the hormones racing through my system, those don’t hold up well to scrutiny. Hell, I knew that at the time, even with the hormones!*

  Aven nodded along. *Yeah, faerie reproduction doesn’t work through sex, so while we recognize it as important to most sapient creatures, it’s an intellectual curiosity and a source of humor for us. Sex is frequently pretty absurd, when viewed purely from an intellectual stance. We’re generated from ambient mana when the system feels it’s necessary; it doesn’t happen very often, so it’s celebrated whenever it does.

  Anyways, we’re off topic! How are you going to expand this second floor?*

  I accepted the change of topic willingly. I could, after all, remember being a human being, even if a lot of the details were hazy; I remembered being foolish in pursuit of sex when young, and even occasionally thereafter. *Hmm, I suppose if I don’t want to be too repetitive, I need to find additional ruins from this time period. I’ll probably start by going back to excavating nearby while sending my eagle out to scout around with that aerial survey skill. I’ll also try sinking some test pits in the existing excavation area to see if there’s anything to be found deeper. People will often reuse the same location because the resources available – whether water, agricultural soil, natural resources, etc. -- are important to most settlers. I’d imagine that’ll be a bit different in this world, just because the various races have varying needs, but flat areas with good soil and access to water are valuable to any agricultural society and locations that have those while being defensively useful and free from flooding are likely to be reoccupied. Not being able to really survey the mountain itself will probably prevent me from finding all occupation traces; I can see flying sapients or even other magical races that don’t have to perform agricultural tasks manually being more likely to focus on the higher altitudes. And of course, if my fantasy tropes hold up, it may be a while before I find evidence of subterranean occupations. Those I may turn up, but I'm guessing they’re more likely focused deeper and more centrally.*

  Aven nodded along. *Sure, that makes sense, even if it’s not something I would have considered. You might also find that some residents were more focused on being hard to find, plus the simple scale of sapient beings is going to be more variable than in a world of nothing but humans. Dragons and giants at one end of the spectrum down to gnomes and some intelligent invertebrates at the other. All that’s going to affect the kinds of evidence they left behind. To say nothing of those that aren’t really wholly material – air elementals and genies through spectres and extraplanar entities. Those don’t tend to settle in specific locations or in large numbers, in any event.*

  I found myself rather excited, from an intellectual perspective. No idea how I could study some of that, but I was looking forward to finding out. Possibly at higher levels I’d get new skills to help me fill in my analytical gaps.