Vee was barely halfway back to the gate when the realization of what he’d forgotten hit him: he could have saved some money on his minion purchase if he’d taken the minion discount perk that’d been offered with Crestheart’s most recent level up. It wouldn’t have been much on this order, but with his debt to Sacre still looming over his head like a sword suspended by a single horsehair, every fleur counted, and it would have continued being helpful as time went on.
However, as he walked alongside Alforde and thought about the dungeon’s options, Vee decided that that the stone golem summoning basin was probably the best pick. The miniboss buff aura was nice, but Vee didn’t know how long Nock was planning to stick around, and didn’t want to overcommit resources to the Mister Chills fight in case he decided to remove it sometime in the future.
The basin was probably the safest pick, though the rate of production wasn’t very high. A single golem per day wouldn’t dramatically change the dungeon’s power unless it was extremely strong, but at minimum Vee could stick it in a hidden room somewhere – on the third floor, probably – as a hidden encounter. Maybe tie it to some other bonus loot or something.
Beyond that, the basin could probably be improved by socketing a stronger crystal. He made a mental note to talk to Hanako about that, if she ever returned from her seemingly endless vacation.
An ache between his shoulders took his mind off his duties for the moment, and his stomach growling like a bear caused the [Dungeon Master] to change course and head to the Grinning Pig for dinner instead of the boarding house to sleep.
He sat down at a booth across from Alforde and ordered a bowl of “hearty” soup – defined of course, as having lots of vegetable chunks in it – some bread, and a glass of emberberry brandy to go along.
He looked around, and saw that the place was largely empty. Barely a handful of other patrons were inside eating, and to Vee’s first glance they all looked like they were in a rush to finish their food and leave.
That was a little weird.
Alforde gleefully rocked back and forth on his gauntlets while they waited without saying a word, and Vee had known his friend long enough to know that the onus of asking what had prompted such happiness was fully and completely on his own shoulders. Such was life, and truth be told he didn’t mind.
Taking a sip of his brandy – which burned like someone had mixed cinnamon with chili peppers and lit them both on fire for some reason – Vee leaned back and grinned, “What’s got you all riled up, buddy?”
Alforde was nothing if not consistent; words started spilling out of the armorsoul like water out of a failed dam and Vee sat back for the next few minutes nursing his drink and soaking up his friend’s enthusiasm.
“And then I WHAMMED the ice and it kind of broke funny and didn’t look like it’d support my weight right so I started thinking that maybe if I WHUMPED it instead I could get a more consistent ramp, but then trying that revealed that there’s really not that much wiggle room when it comes to breaking the ice fast enough to be practical so I had to go back to big heavy strikes and –”
The minute details of Alforde’s efforts were eventually interrupted by Big Simon himself, who delivered Vee’s soup before sitting down at a nearby booth.
He looked tired. His ears and whiskers were both slightly drooped, and his shoulders were slumped. Still, his eyes were as bright as ever and he gave Vee a weak little smile.
“When you finish your soup, Mister Vales, there’s somebody that’d like to talk to you,” he said. “If you’d be willing? I’d appreciate it quite a bit.”
There was something in the kitrekin’s tone that made Vee pause, but he took his first bite of soup and nodded all the same. “Sure, Simon. I don’t mind at all.”
A smile spread across the kitrekin’s face. “Aw, thanks. That’s great of you, Mister Vales. Really great. Thanks so much.”
Looking visibly relieved, he got up and hurried to the back of the restaurant, leaving Vee to his meal.
“Well, that’s not ominous or anything,” Alforde said, his voice losing its elated pitch. “Wonder who he wants you to talk to.”
“It’s probably the Don,” Reginald said from his perch next to Vee’s bowl. “Though why he wants to talk to you now is still anyone’s guess.”
Vee looked at his hat, who for once wasn’t smiling. “Should I have said no?”
Reginald thought for a moment, then shook his brim. “Nah, it’s fine. The kitrekins are generally pretty honorable, so I don’t think the don has anything beyond talking in mind. So long as you’re respectful I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, though it’d probably be wise to finish your soup sooner rather than later. Kitrekins don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Trusting his [Majordomo]’s instincts, Vee hurried to slurp down the rest of his soup and tossed back the last half of his drink. That was absolutely a mistake, evinced by a terrible fit of coughing immediately afterwards, and Vee slugged down half his water to ease the raging inferno in his throat.
Once his bowl was cleared away, Big Simon returned to his table and gestured for Vee to follow him. Standing tall on account of [Stiffen Spine], Vee walked behind the kitrekin to the back of the restaurant, ducking beside the heavy curtain that separated the kitchen from the dining area.
Alforde stood beside him, his gauntlets loose and relaxed but his eyes tight and focused. A slight chill radiated from his armor, and Vee couldn’t help but shiver as they continued down a long hallway that led to a room at the back of the restaurant.
There were four other kitrekins inside and Vee recognized three of them as the Don’s other [Enforcers]. The fourth, which by process of elimination had to be the Don himself was a stout kitrekin with dark fur and piercing eyes. He was dressed nicely in an understated suit that looked ever so slightly too tight around the waist. Unlike his [Enforcers], who wore copious amounts of jewelry, his wrists and ears were unadorned. He held a cigar loosely in one paw and had his other paw around a half-empty – or possibly half-full, depending on one’s status as an optimist or pessimist – glass.
“Mister Vales,” he said in a silk-smooth voice, gesturing across his table to the empty seat on the other side. “What a pleasure it is to finally meet you. Thank you so much for agreeing to speak with me. Please, sit down.”
Vee did as requested, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. Alforde took up position right behind him, at ease but alert.
“Before anything else, I’d like to extend my apologies for not greeting you personally sooner,” the Don said. “I’ve been terribly busy – business can be a demanding mistress, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”
“Indeed,” Vee said quietly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mister…?”
“Don Curlytail.”
“Don Curlytail. Right.”
Vee coughed to buy himself a second; he wasn’t sure what to say next, and didn’t want to risk offending the kitrekin by asking him to get to the point, so he was relieved when the don leaned forward and said, “Would you care for a drink?”
Truth be told, Vee would have preferred to pass. On account of the speed with which he’d finished his brandy he was starting to feel the familiar pulsing in his skull that marked the first stages of being Tipsy. Drinking more would only serve to make that worse, but it paled in comparison to the risk of offending Curlytail by refusing a drink.
“Kind of you to offer,” he said, nodding toward the bottle next to the kitrekin’s glass. “I’ll take the same thing you’re having.”
After trying the spirit – which tasted a bit like licorice mixed with honey – and complimenting it, he leaned back in his chair and asked, “Is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss, Mr. Curlytail?”
“There is, in fact. Are you familiar with the work of Carvitawn?”
Vee thought for a moment, the name somewhat familiar but ringing no proper bells. “I’m afraid not.”
Don Curlytail smiled and took a sip of his own drink. “He was a [Philosopher] shortly after the dawn of the First System and a prolific writer. Wrote like he was getting paid by the page. Of course, like most such creators, the overwhelming majority of what he wrote was utter nonsense, but when it came to Balance his work was immaculate.”
The last word hung there in the air, heavy with implication, and Vee nodded. “Balance in what sense? Between classes?”
Such inquiries were common – especially amongst teenage boys, who often have nothing to do but argue with each other about various inanities – and Vee had spent a good amount of time in his youth listening to his friends list off dubiously reasoned points about why one given class was better or worse than another. He’d participated from time to time, but hadn’t ever felt the urge to really dig into the details the way some people did.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Among other things,” the don said. “Anyways, I digress. He believed that fundamentally a world such as ours offers near limitless ways for any individual person to cause havoc and bring mayhem to the people and places around them. Or, perhaps if said person is virtuously inclined and uncommonly gifted, peace and prosperity. Over a long enough time horizon these dynamics eventually lead to balance, but the short term reality for most people would inevitably be chaos. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
Instead of giving Vee a chance to answer, the don leaned forward and continued, “Now, before you arrived here, Mister Sacre and I were locked in a stalemate. Though we schemed and fought, neither of us could obtain any sort of durable advantage over the other. We were balanced. Perfect counterweights to each other. It wasn’t perfect or desirable to me, but it worked.”
“I see,” said Vee, taking another sip of his drink. “Am I to assume that I have somehow thrown that balance off?”
“You have,” the kitrekin said, his smile fading. “Inadvertently, perhaps, but undisputedly this is the truth. Ever since you opened that dungeon of yours things have been changing here in Oar’s Crest. Such is the way of any ecosystem when something new is introduced.”
Vee drained his glass and set it down while the Don continued.
“Of course, some of those changes are for the better, like your domesticated slime cleaners and the various events you’ve organized and held. Certainly the recent surge in business was appreciated by many of our local [Merchants] and [Shopkeepers], including many who pay me for protection and were flush with fleurs as a result of all the extra traffic. However, other changes your presence has inspired are for the worse. The situation between Sacre and me firmly falls into this latter category. No, don’t give me that look, I’ll explain. Of late, Sacre’s cronies have gained new classes and skills that my boys can’t keep up with despite their best efforts. They reek of blood and madness, and while it shames me to admit it the gap between his and my strength grows greater by the day.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Vee said, feeling more bold than he otherwise might have on account of the booze, “but frankly I’m not sure how that’s my problem. I don’t have any interest in the dispute between you two. My focus is on my dungeon.”
Don Curlytail huffed and shook his head. He set down his cigar and fixed Vee with an expression so heavy it had to be some sort of skill.
“Given what I’ve heard about you, Mister Vales, I’d expect nothing else. Alas, life isn’t that simple. You might think that you have the luxury of only worrying about your minions and your little room layouts, but that’s not the case. You came and shook things up, which means that you’re a player in the city now. The bigger your dungeon gets and the more you expand your little Westown activities the more you’ll need the city itself to support you. By default, that means that you’ll increasingly find yourself pulled into the conflict between Sacre and I whether you like it or not. This might not be your natural inclination, but you should accept that responsibility and act accordingly.”
“And how would you define that?”
The don smiled wide, his fangs displayed prominently. “Be a proper counterweight. Help me bring Sacre back into line. Look, the specifics aren’t my business. All I can do is encourage you to act in your own self-interest and hope that you give Sacre a bigger headache than you give me. I promise that you’ll regret it if you don’t; Sacre is not a man you want calling all the shots.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vee said, squaring his shoulders against the sudden contraction of the Expectation. “Thanks, Don Curlytail.”
“You’re welcome, Mister Vales. Simon will see you out. Have a good rest of your night. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”
Vee got up to leave, but before he could open the door the don spoke once more.
“Oh! Forgive me, but there was one last thing, Mister Vales.”
“And what might that be?”
The kitrekin’s eyes glinted and he cut himself another cigar with one of his extremely claws. “Should that other armorsoul interfere with my business again I’ll personally see to it that your dungeon is reduced to a pile of rubble.”
Reginald tightened his brim around Vee’s head once more, and the [Dungeon Master] said nothing. He simply nodded and left the Pig, his thoughts swirling as he led his friends back to the boarding house.
“Mother, I promise that I’ll be fine here,” Vee said as he gently pried Emma’s arms off his neck and took a step back. His cheeks were burning and the [Dungeon Master] was careful not to make eye contact with Luna, who was standing a few feet away next to Alforde. “I’m an adult and can take care of myself. Besides, I’ve got Alforde with me.”
“That’s right Lady Vales! Don’t worry, I’ve got him covered,” Alforde said, saluting with Slammy.
Luna smiled. “I’ll keep an eye on him too, Madam Vales.”
Edukaiser harrumphed and shook her helmet, muttering something about [Witches], but didn’t press the issue. Instead, she turned and loaded up one of Emma’s many bags in the pristine carriage waiting behind them..
Vee’s mother wiped a tear from the corner of her eyes and nodded. “I know, it’s just that cities like this are dangerous, Victorissimo. And no matter how old you get you’ll always be my baby boy. Alright, I think that’s it. Edukaiser, did we forget anything?”
“No, madam. We have everything we need for our return trip, unless the young master has something for you?”
Nodding, Vee reached into his coat and drew out the letter he’d written to his father. “Could you deliver this for me?”
He went to hand it over, but his mother grabbed his hand before he could let it go and squeezed tight.
“One condition. Promise me that you’ll write more often,” she said. “I want a letter at least every other month, okay? Even if nothing is happening, just to let me know that you’re alright.”
Vee coughed, having expected that much. “Of course. Have a safe trip back to Bardis. I love you.”
“Oh, son, I love you too.”
They hugged again, and then it was time to say goodbye. Vee wasn’t sure how to feel about the decidedly fiendish wink his mother gave to Luna before she climbed into the carriage – he couldn’t shake the thought that he’d missed something there – but he pushed it out of his mind and watched the carriage roll away. Not all questions needed to be answered; sometimes it was okay to just leave things be.
He looked up and took a deep breath. It was a warm, sunny afternoon. A proper spring day, judging by the cheerful birdsong and the scent of blooming flowers all around him. The Expectation on his shoulders purred like a cat, tightening and loosening in turns as it slept peacefully. Vee shrugged and it shivered.
The [Dungeon Master] shook his head. Maybe he’d take another day off before returning to the dungeon, he thought. One more day to get his head straight, one day to really give the don’s words proper consideration.
You’re a player in the city now…Accept that responsibility and act accordingly.
Crestheart was his base. His anchor and his first priority. However, after spending most of the night thinking about his future in Oar’s Crest, Vee had decided that the dungeon wasn’t enough by itself. He wanted more.
Naturally, Vee didn’t have everything worked out yet, but the [Dungeon Master] knew what his immediate next steps would be. He could visualize what needed to be done and that he’d be the one to do it.
Starting tomorrow, or the day after of course. One didn’t simply rush into things like this.
After all, he had plans for the rest of the day.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked Luna.
She grinned. “I’m fine with anywhere, lead the way.”
Straightening up, Vee held out his arm, and his heartbeat quickened when the [Pumpkin Witch] took it.
“Let’s go get some candy from Joleimna,” he said. “We’ll figure it out after that.”
DUNGEONS ARE BAD BUSINESS, VOLUME TWO END
THANK YOU FOR READING!
Main Character Sheets (Unchanged)
Vee Vales
Primary Class: Ghost Smith (Self), Level 9
Secondary Class: Dungeon Master (Oar’s Crest), Level 25
Tertiary Class: Guy-Who-Takes-Things-WAY-Too-Far (Self), Level 7
Might: 16
Wit: 42
Faith: 25
Adventurousness: 7
Ambition: 16
Plotting: 21
Charisma: 18
Devious Mind: 30
Leadership: 22
Guts: 16
Intimidating Presence: 11
Citizenship: 24
Public Relations: 8
Determination: 7
Persuasiveness: 6
Bargaining: 4
Patience: 3
Competitive Spirit: 1
Pragmatism: 1
<3<3 Infatuation <3<3
Alforde Armorsoul:
Primary Class: Hammer Specialist (Self), Level 6
Secondary Class: Right-hand man (Vee Vales), Level 19
Tertiary Class: Dungeon Champion (Oar’s Crest), Level 18
Additional Class: Glaciernaut (Sacha Silverblade), Level 13
Might: 60
Wit: 16
Faith: 28
Adventurousness (Bound – Vee Vales): 9
Endurance: 34
Intimidating Presence: 15
Heart of a Champion: 15
Citizenship (Bound – Vee Vales): 9
Vigilance: 11
Vanity: 2
Single-Mindedness: 1
Reginald (Unchanged):
Primary Class: Core Spirit (Unknown), Level ???
#$&Q#$)(@#$#@#$%!@#$##%#%()@#$**@@##
Secondary Class: Loudmouth (Self), Level 43
Tertiary Class: Majordomo (Vee Vales), Level 21
Additional Class: Announcer (Vee Vales), Level 14
Additional Class: Hyperthymesiac (Self), Level 5
Might: 2
Wit: 37
Faith: 17
Ambition: 29
Greed: 24
Deceptiveness: 27
Manipulativeness: 42
$#&*!@!!: !!!
Loyalty: 47
Patience: 10
Irritability: 25
Remorsefulness: 17
Expository Prowess: 23
#%$Pragmatism*#$: @#61$5
Hop@#!! @#$@!@#
@#$@%%^
#4^5#*&_!+++#(@$#
Citizenship (Bound – Vee Vales): 9
"Still I stabbed him with my blade, and still he burned me with his fire"). I wrestled with it constantly, adding scenes and taking them out and rewriting things and trying to come up with a good place to call it that wouldn't require another dozen chapters. I'm not entirely convinced that this is the perfect place to end Volume 2 (I still think Vee's letter to his dad would have worked for that, truth be told), but I think it's a good place and I'm at peace with it. Since Volume 3 will be starting in the relatively immediate future I'm not sure that having a "good" ending spot matters all that much in the grand scheme of things.
another week some time to recharge a bit and get some buffer built up, and then am aiming at posting the first chapter of what I'm calling the "Interlude Project" on Jan 23 31. (Updated Jan 19)
House of Dreams. I thought I was close back in April of last year, but then decided to Rowan it (see what I did there?) and rewrite it from scratch. The jury is still out on if that was a good idea or not, lol.
