The walled city of New Frausta had been the home of the Department of Dungeons for the past 400 years. Between the countryside and the sewers, the abundance of dungeons appealed to both new and veteran adventurers. The city's position near the center of the continent and neutral politics made it a major hub for commerce, so it had become a popular place to begin staging expeditions and start adventures.

  White stone buildings rose from the center of the city tall and proud, with shorter towers surrounding those, and even smaller ones around those. From afar they appeared to make a large dome. You could see them from anywhere in the Frausta Plains surrounding it.

  The silence of the journey had been exactly what I wanted. With Ferrisdae drawing up the papers for Sevensleg I was free to lose myself in my books, meditation, sky watching, or whatever else I wanted to occupy my time with. There had been times where she obviously wanted to ask about my books or some such, but she upheld her end of the deal.

  The line to get into the city was long and full of adventurers, merchants, and other travelers. We trudged alongside them like royalty, and I assumed some must have thought that we were after seeing the magic steeds and Ferrisdae sitting regally in the back. Others scowled at us skipping the line, not caring one bit about anything other than they had to wait and we didn't.

  We showed off our badges at the gate and, after a cursory glance, we were let inside. I could see Ferrisdae shaking. The very moment the carriage cleared the gates, she burst. "That's very sneaky of you, saying that all your talk is small because you are," she blurted, as if that had been on the tip of her tongue for the past day and a half.

  "Maybe you should have read the contract first," I said cheekily.

  In response, she stuck her tongue out at me. Her attention then immediately returned to the city. This close to the wall didn't feel as claustrophobic as it did deeper in, but we were still surrounded by three story buildings on all sides. The streets were lively and bustling as people came and went along with their business. A group of children ran alongside our carriage, awestruck by the magic. One of them was brave enough to touch one of the Astral Horses before the whole lot of them ran off, laughing.

  "This city is amazing," Ferrisdae sighed wistfully. "Every time I come through here, it's like… how could someone build something as awesome as this?"

  "Poor city planning," I told her. She laughed like I had told a joke, and I continued. "When the Gnomes came from the southern continent, they helped rebuild Frausta into New Frausta. Since the walls were still strong, the Humans living here decided it would be easier to build up than expand."

  "Why didn't they just build communities outside of the walls?" Ferrisdae asked.

  "The Gnomes wanted to, but Humans are stubborn and refuse to look past their own lifespan, so they told the builders to stay within the walls," I answered.

  "Ah. That… that does make sense," she admitted. "Okay, so it's thanks to poor city management. Still amazing to look at."

  “Only from the right angles,” I said with a shrug. "Take a right up at the next street."

  As the buildings got taller, the streets began to split with ramps to accommodate. The tallest building in the city was twelve stories tall, and that was where King Kezler and the royal family lived. The ones around it were ten stories, except for one. There were three levels worth of roads and the higher you went, the more opulent things got. The affluent and influential lived on the Top.

  Of course, the opposite was true, and those who lived in false sunlight instead of the real deal had it hard. There was always something to strive for, I suppose. Plenty of great adventurers pulled themselves up from the Bottom. No one liked to mention all the ones that didn't.

  The second tier of New Frausta was called the Middle, which was where the Department of Dungeons’ main office was located. People tended to get out of your way if they thought you were someone powerful, and the ostentatious magic Ferrisdae cast to make our transport was certainly that. We made it to headquarters faster than I ever had before, so maybe riding with Ferrisdae wasn't so bad. This time.

  We disembarked in front of the open doors of the department and Ferrisdae dismissed the spell. The carriage disintegrated into stardust that slowly faded out of sight along with the horses.

  The lobby of the Department of Dungeons was wholly unremarkable. The first view one saw was a plain black desk. Sometimes there was a Human behind it. Sometimes, a Dwarf. It didn't look out of place with the dark gray carpet and the light gray walls with two white doors to the left and right.

  I greeted the receptionist, Merlk the Dwarf, with a nod and turned to Ferrisdae. "You go ahead and turn in the paperwork to the archives and get things moving with Sevenslegs. Just because his provisional license needs to be backdated does not mean we get to sit on our heels. The sooner it's done, the better. Meet me in Brackenhorst's office once you're finished."

  "You got it!" the chipper Elf said with a sloppy salute. She went left and I went right.

  I opened the door and the relatively quiet lobby was filled with the sounds of shouts, screams, and someone crying. Several rows of desks filled this large room, each hosting either inspectors or aides helping out. Either way, each one was filled with paperwork. Darting between desks was a mousy Human woman, her light curls bouncing as she was constantly being pulled in several directions at once.

  "Hang in there, Millicef," I called as I walked past the zoo. She lifted her head and glanced at me, but quickly went back to work.

  I walked towards a set of double doors near the back of the room, and it was here that I knocked.

  "Unless you have the answer to how the exiled son of Sultan Jareet turned his father's palace into his own personal dungeon, I don't have time for you!" Brackenhorst yelled from his office.

  I thought about that for a moment. "It's the Laroda Jareet Desert, so it has to be item based,” I yelled through the door. “Rituals wouldn't work because it's been a magic starved zone ever since the Third Sultanate tried to summon their dead god to prove it was still alive. He probably got the item from the neighboring kingdom of Alashroe, if I had to wager. They’ve been pissed ever since the sultan said a Banshee’s singing would be more palatable than their queen’s."

  Silence. Then, "Badger?"

  "Yes," I confirmed. "I am Badger."

  "Well, come in already!"

  I opened the door and walked into the office. Papers littered the desk, appearing to be tossed on top of it haphazardly. A stack had fallen onto one of the chairs meant for guests. It looked like no effort was made to clean it off; or any part of the office, really. Behind the desk and taking up the entire wall was a parchment map of the continent with several small, glowing dots indicating where dungeons were. The Chief Dungeon Inspector was in the middle of this dump.

  Brackenhorst was old even considering the long life span of Dwarvenkind. His face had much in common with a bulldog, jowls and all, and his bald head was waxed with nothing hiding his many liver spots. The magnificent white beard he proudly showed off, however, commanded respect. Nine braids dangled from his chin, one cut short, and the others split into more and more braids to signify his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.

  He squinted at me. "Have a seat, Badger," the Dwarf said, taking a seat himself. "How is it that you always have these tidbits of knowledge in your head?"

  "There's trivia night at The Bottoms Up every Wednesday and Saturday," I explained with a shrug. I didn't sit down.

  "Weird place to learn things, son," he said. His eyes flickered to the closed door and then to me. "Where's the rookie?"

  "Authorizing a provisional license for a night in the forest for Sevensleg," I answered. "I sent the Green Union rep back to his headquarters to figure out what's going on, so that paperwork should be coming through within a week or so. Until then, we're sending food for the spider to eat."

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Brackenhorst nodded. "Sure. And how is the kid doing? Keeping up with you?"

  I thought the question over. Ferrisdae certainly showed promise, but I only saw her in action twice. While she could have made some unnecessary calls in Krad's dungeon, she clearly retained most of her training. The bravado she showed Sevensleg could have backfired spectacularly, but I had no idea how strong she really was. These were all things that could be rectified with time.

  "She needs experience," I told him honestly. "I'd recommend pairing her with Justisius or Liddy. Both have extensive knowledge of de-escalation and have written some of the best dungeon critiques I've seen."

  "Both are excellent choices," Brackenhorst admitted as something on his desk caught his attention. He signed a document with a flourish before setting it aside on another pile before looking back at me. "But, no; she's staying with you. There's no getting away from it this time just because of your record. It has to be you."

  I scowled, then schooled my face so that it was just a frown. Despite wanting to protest, I didn't say anything. I knew it wouldn't do any good.

  "Don't get all twisted, Badger. You are literally the only Dungeon Inspector without a rookie under their wing. Hell, most have two. Justisius and Liddy both have four because they're so reliable, you know that."

  I sighed. "Should have just said she was terrible."

  "That wouldn't have worked," Brackenhorst said with a chuckle. "I vetted her personally. She's a diamond."

  I didn't say anything to that, and the Dwarf slumped in his chair.

  "That bad around here?" I asked after the silence settled.

  "Bah." Brackenhorst waved his hand. "The sultan is one thing. We haven't seen this many spontaneous dungeons in nearly four centuries. That was when the Southern Continental Dungeon that forced the Gnomes to flee here popped up."

  That made me pause. The Southern Continental Dungeon had been an extinction level event that left the whole landmass barren for centuries. The latest colonization effort to reclaim the land was less than a half century old and news coming back had not been good.

  The worst part was that the Gnomes made terrible witnesses. We had no idea what caused the dungeon or who its owner was. The reports all varied wildly from a dragon who exhaled poison, to an exploding man clad in leather, to a gigantic walking volcano. Everyone had a different story, and not a lot of them made sense. As someone who thrived on facts, I found in infuriating.

  Brackenhorst must have sensed my thoughts because he barked a laugh. A fake one, but he tried. "Don't you fret, Badger," he said. "We're a lot more prepared for something like that than they were. We're coordinating and—" A knock on the door interrupted him.

  "Brack, it's Ferrisdae," she called through the door. I scoffed at the use of her name for the chief.

  "Come in!" he instructed, and she entered the room. She had a big smile on her face that only grew as she looked at me, like she wanted to say something. Ferrisdae sat in the lone unused chair as Brackenhorst waved to it. "Straight to business, then I've got to kick you out and get back to work."

  The chief leaned against his desk and looked to Ferrisdae. "Are you familiar with the Land Pirate Raitheus Razorbeak?" She shook her head, and he looked at me.

  "Raitheus Razorbeak is a high level scoundrel," I answered. "Him and his crew of brightly feathered Avians, a humanoid bird race, circle the continent in his caravan. They're one of the few mobile dungeons. They are under strict orders to only steal money, goods, and cause property damage, not take the lives of citizens. They've been unusually cooperative for the past year or so, though. We would have gotten rid of him, but he's the distant cousin of the northeastern continent's emperor. Not close, but related enough that it could cause an international incident."

  Brackenhorst nodded. "Some time in the past month, we're not sure exactly when, he added four more dungeons to his caravan." He looked at Ferrisdae. "Each wagon is a separate dungeon in its own pocket dimension. The way he has them set up, you have to enter the rear car, find the key in that to the next one, then the next. Normally he has 8 wagons, but this brings him to 12."

  "That doesn't seem like too much trouble, though," Ferrisdae said, looking between the two of us.

  "Normally I'd agree with you. Per the rules, he has been eligible for a larger caravan for a while now, as reluctant as we may be to grant it," Brackenhorst replied. "Unfortunately, reports from a few days ago state that the caravan is back down to eight. Four of the carts are missing. Would you like to take a stab at which ones?"

  The answer dawned on me immediately. This was not good. "The lead wagons," I said. "The Land Pirate Raitheus Razorbeak has gone rogue."

  "That's right," Brackenhorst said. "As I was telling Badger before you arrived, Ferrisdae, everyone is busy. I've got people looking into the Zaruv Dungeon Cluster because two of them evolved on their own recently. I've got people trying to dive to the bottom of the Crurak Reef because a local fish god had a dungeon form around it. There was a complaint about adventurers being attacked with numbers by some blue haired Human woman. Can you believe that? Numbers! Sounded like a hoax but I sent Deresca anyway, and that turned out to be nothing at all."

  After shaking his head, Brackenhorst looked at Ferrisdae. "Badger is going to be your permanent mentor. And," he paused, turning his head to me. "He won't complain about it in my presence."

  Ferrisdae clapped her hands. "I'll keep him in line, chief," she claimed. I rolled my eyes.

  I pursed my lips in an attempt to show how unhappy I was with this arrangement. It didn't have any effect; they already knew I was. "So we're trying to find Razorbeak and, what?" I asked. "Return him to his caravan?"

  "No," Brackenhorst said, scowling. "We've subjugated the parts of his caravan that he left behind, and it’s been decided that you'll do the same with him. He stole something from the city-state of Berald and left a lot of bodies in his wake. He's going to be removed, politics be damned. The royal family has already signed off on it."

  "Hold on a moment," I said, bringing a hand up. "You want me to take a rookie out on a subjugation run to destroy the dungeon of someone as high powered as Raitheus Razorbeak? I'm complaining, sir. I'm not taking an unknown into a battlefield."

  "I can take care of myself," Ferrisdae returned defensively. "You'd be surprised at what I can do."

  "What you can do doesn't matter," I snapped. "Subjugation runs are the most dangerous part of being a Dungeon Inspector. We are going to strip away a man's power, prestige, and limited immortality. They don't just take that lying down. It's called subjugation for a reason."

  "Badger," Brackenhorst said slowly.

  "Chief."

  "You're taking Ferrisdae, and that's final," he continued. "You'll keep her safe."

  "I can keep myself safe, too," she insisted.

  I stared at him for a few moments, but I could tell from the look on his face that I wasn't about to get my way. It was something I could fight, maybe even win, but subjugation runs came with both bonuses and mandatory time off. Not to mention, if I didn't go, then someone less equipped to handle things would have to be sent.

  With a huff, I crossed my arms and gave the barest of nods. I didn't like it, but I accepted it.

  “What did he steal?” Ferrisdae asked slowly, leaning forward when it became obvious that I wasn't going to throw a tantrum.

  Brackenhorst shrugged. “Berald didn’t think it prudent to tell us. They were being very nervous about the subject, though, so it can’t be anything good.

  "If his caravan is gone, then do you have any clues of his whereabouts?" I asked.

  "We followed his tracks into the Thousand Year Blizzard," Brackenhorst said, pointing to the very top of his map. "This is only the 757th year, so we can't wait it out, obviously."

  Ferrisdae had a strange look on her face, so I explained what it was. "The Thousand Year Blizzard was a spell cast by the winter witch Scelara. It was meant to cover the world in snow but she was betrayed by her mother, and now it only affects the northern region of the continent. It's such a huge magical storm that tracking of any sort is nigh impossible."

  A pause. "So Razorbeak's a needle in a haystack?" Ferrisdae asked.

  "I wouldn't say that. The eye of the storm is supposedly habitable, according to the Mage's Guild researchers, so that's likely where he'll be. The problem is getting there. Expeditions through the blizzard are time consuming and costly," I explained.

  "But there is one who could help get you there faster," Brackenhorst said. "Oristrella."

  I groaned. "Noooo."

  "It's the only option, Badger," Brackenhorst said. He turned to Ferrisdae again. "She lives in the Ice Caverns of the White Wyrm."

  "Because she is the White Wyrm," I huffed, turning to Ferrisdae. "Chromatic dragons are some of the worst dungeon bosses to talk to. Most won't negotiate until you've beaten their dungeon and often them. You can swing the Doorknocker until you die and, after telling you to sod off, they'll ignore you until your corpse dissolves."

  "It's also after the Winter Solstice, which means her annual kidnapping has taken place," Brackenhorst added. "Oristrella always captures a noble around this time of year. Then adventurers are sent to get them back. She may be too busy and want to send you on your way quickly. Either way, her blessing is the fastest way to get through the storm. Unless you want to rely on the Mage's Guild, that is."

  "I'd rather quit," I spat. The Mage's Guild was full of elitist pricks who looked down on people without magic. Any chance to avoid them was one I'd take. There were good ones, sure, but workplace culture was hard to change.

  "I've always wanted to meet a dragon," Ferrisdae said at the same time as me. We both looked at each other, then back to Brackenhorst.

  "Great, then it's settled," Brackenhorst said with a clap of his hands. "I've already talked to the Mage's Guild, they'll be able to teleport you to the city of Crystal Snows tomorrow morning. Be there at dawn. You're both dismissed."