Dungeons Are Bad Business

Back in Crestheart’s office, Vee looked at the guide in his hands. The elkin [Battle Chef] had been in a surly mood after a quick and vigorous thrashing courtesy of Alforde, and had only been too happy to give Vee his guide.

“It’s not like I’m ever coming back to this dungeon,” he’d said. So much for repeat business.

The guide was five pages long, and Vee opened it. The penmanship was neat and elegant, the paper was smooth and silky, and the level of detail contained inside was genuinely surprising. There were plenty of diagrams that showed how rooms were arranged, and descriptions of the monsters one should expect in each one. Both the blue and the red path were covered, and the entirety of the final page was dedicated to Alforde. Strengths, weaknesses, special attacks, everything. It even had a note about the Reflection, though it only offered sparse details.

According to the adventurer, the man who’d made and sold the guide was a toad-looking man named Torres, and he tended to hawk his wares on the southside of the adventurer’s guild. Once Alforde finished up with the day’s last challenger, they’d tally up their earnings and then head over.

With a wild spin attack, Alforde knocked the last adventurer off the platform and with that, the day’s runs were done. The armorsoul escorted the [Leadfoot] out and then came up to the office to help count the day’s revenue.

Of the seventeen adventurers who’d gone through Crestheart that day, fifteen had paid to try and challenge Alforde. Thankfully, despite four battles, the armorsoul’s winning streak was still intact.

As far as Vee was concerned, the potion sales had been pretty good that day too. Seventy-six of ninety was a solid number, and in all, Crestheart had earned almost a thousand silver fleurs after accounting for taxes and expenses. They’d gotten four shards of chaos too.

Not a bad day, all things considered.

Once Alforde put the money in the vault, Vee let him look at the guide. The armorsoul’s gauntlets dwarfed the paper, and Vee noticed for the first time that there were bands of black around his friend’s knuckles. He wondered what they were? Calluses? No, that didn’t make any sense at all. Armor didn’t grow callused. If anything, it was corrosion.

However, when the [Dungeon Master] pointed it out, Alforde simply shrugged. “I’m not worried about it, and you shouldn’t be either. It’s just armorsoul stuff.”

Vee had been about to suggest that it might have had more to do with [Dungeon Champion] stuff than armorsoul stuff, but he didn’t press the issue. Alforde had acknowledged that he was aware of the problem, and that was that.

Instead, they turned their attention to the matter of the dungeon guide. Vee had contacted Casys, the union [Dungeon Analyst] who’d given him her card and asked about the union’s policies regarding dungeon guides. To his surprise and chagrin, she’d told him that the union had no official position, and that the matter of how best to handle guides was solely the domain of a [Dungeon Master]. She’d also told him that in all likelihood, there were multiple guides to Crestheart floating around, and there probably always would be. With the guild’s help, he might be able to reduce the number, but it was far from a sure thing.

The news had been like a blow to the chest at first, but Vee was coming to terms with it. His plan was still intact. Mostly.

“Well, let’s go see if we can find this Torres guy,” Vee said once Alforde handed the guide back. “Hopefully he’ll be trying to sell some guides for tomorrow.”

“What are we going to do if he’s there, boss?” Reginald asked. “Shake him down?”

Vee laughed at that. Even if it would have been effective, he doubted that he had it in him to shake someone down. He wasn’t like Sacre, or even his father, who wouldn’t have hesitated to threaten the man to get exactly what he wanted. But maybe that’s my problem, a voice inside Vee’s mind said. Maybe if I was, we’d be better off.

He shook his head to clear the thought away, and put Reginald on. “Nothing like that. I just want to talk to him. Let’s go.

The hat seemed disappointed, but didn’t complain.

Luck was on their side. When Vee peeked around the corner of the adventurer’s guild, he saw that there was in fact a jowly, rotund man loitering against the back wall. He had a thin black mustache and was dressed in a long, gray trench coat. He also wore a fedora, so Vee disliked him immediately.

“Excuse me, is your name Torres? I’d like to speak with you,” Vee said as he stepped out from his hiding spot and started walking towards the guide seller.

The man took one look at Vee and his eyes grew wide. Perhaps he recognized the [Dungeon Master].

Or, more likely, he recognized Reginald. In addition to being the face of Crestheart, there weren’t a ton of hats in Oar’s Crest that could snarl and curse you out.

Turning as fast as his doughy body could, the guide seller fled Reginald’s colorful tirade and tried to escape into a nearby alley. His attempt was unsuccessful; Vee had anticipated this, and Torres found Alforde waiting for him there.

The armorsoul waved politely and rested Hammy’s handle on the ground.

“Hi there, how’s it going? My friends and I want to have a word with you about those guides you’re selling.”

Vee caught up and walked into the alley with his hands tucked into his pockets. He pursed his lips and squinted his eyes a little bit, clearly trying to look intimidating. The effect didn’t really come across; he just looked like he needed glasses.

“Why are you bothering me?” the man asked. He had a bit of an accent Vee couldn’t quite place. “It’s not like I’m the only guide seller in town. Most of my competitors sell far more copies than I do, too.”

“So we’ve heard,” said Vee. He couldn’t entirely keep the bitterness out of his voice. He reached into his pocket and drew out the guide he’d taken from the [Battle Chef]. “But they’re not as good as yours. You did make this one, right?”

The man’s eyes lit up as he took it. “Yes, of course. I only use Lowoe River paper. It’s been discontinued, but I have a hefty stack of it that should last me for many more years. Do you see these perfect folds that keep the pages together? It takes me almost ten minutes to bind a single guide. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t. That’s very interesting,” Vee said, though he privately wondered why anyone would say such a thing with so much pride.

“Nobody appreciates how hard I work on these,” Torres said. He was starting to talk faster now and Vee had to really try to keep up with his words.

“I struggle and suffer for my art, but people don’t want quality. They want cheap guides, prepared by adventurers who’ve been batted around by your friend here, and I’m left with stacks upon stacks of beauty. Nobody appreciates my genius.”

Vee waited until he was quite sure that the man had finished his thought. In his experience, artistic people – which Torres clearly was – tended to react negatively when interrupted, especially if they were in the middle of their spiel.

“It’s an impressive product, that’s for sure,” he said once he was sure that it was safe. “Your dedication is impressive. Mind answering a question for me though?”

The man scowled at him. “Are you trying to steal my secrets?”

“Not at all,” Vee hurried to say. He’d have to tread carefully. The rapport he’d built with Torres until now was as thin as a sheet of paper – the cheap stuff that he used, not the thick sheafs of the man’s guide – and he didn’t want to risk tearing it in half. “I just wanted to know how you get your information. My memory isn’t perfect, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you inside Crestheart. How do you make your guides so accurate?”

Torres waved a hand and made a soft feh sound, as if the question wasn’t worth answering. “I conduct interviews, of course. Then, once I’ve talked to enough people, I check my notes and assemble the aggregate information from them all. I have no need to ever set foot in your pathetic venue, little [Dungeon Master].”

Vee cocked his eyebrow. He was irked by the man’s emphasis on ‘little’ – they were almost the same height, after all! – but the patronizing grin on Torres’ face really pissed him off. He’d seen that same smile too many times in his life. It was pleasant disdain, polite dismissal, and Vee could almost hear his father’s voice saying “Run along and play now, kiddo. The adults are talking.”

Frustration that had built itself over years boiled over in Vee’s skull. Maybe I should be more like Sacre, he thought, as he clenched his fist tight in his pocket. He briefly fantasized about striking the man, but shook his head and the desire was gone. He didn’t know where it’d come from. I don’t think I need to go that far, actually. Some change might be good, but not that far.

For a moment longer, the anger lingered, and Vee considered abandoning his plan. He didn’t like Torres. Not one bit. Sometimes you just met people that rubbed you the wrong way and this was definitely one of those times.

But did that matter, though? Was it a requirement that he like someone in order to do business with them? Before coming to Oar’s Crest, Vee would have said yes in a heartbeat, would have been willing to miss a good opportunity to stand on principle, but now he wasn’t so sure.

He wanted Crestheart to succeed. Wanted to see it keep growing, and wanted to keep his kneecaps intact so that he could remain at the helm. In order to do that, his gut told him that he needed Torres, no matter how personally unpleasant the man was.

[Leadership +1]

Vee wrestled with this revelation for a few moments more, and then shook his head. “I have a proposal for you, Mister Torres. How much do you sell your guides for?”

“Twenty-five silver fleurs,” Torres said. “And let me assure you, with such high quality materials, that’s a steal.”

“And how many do you sell a week?”

“Six or seven.”

Vee smiled. That was what he’d hoped to hear. “That must be tough to live on, given the quality of care you put into your work. Do you do anything else?”

“I’m a [Stationer]. One of the finest in Oar’s Crest.”

That made sense. Now that he was closer to Torres, Vee smelled the distinct scent of ink and glue.

“Well, Mister Torres, how would you like to sell a lot more copies of your guide?”

Now the man looked interested, and the little smirk he’d had before was replaced by a greedy grin. “You’re not going to try and shut me down? I must admit…I was expecting…never mind. What did you have in mind?”

“If we’re going to be up against guides anyways, Crestheart might as well have an official product we can sell too. I’d like that to be yours. If you accept, you’ll just keep doing what you’re doing, but instead of lurking around here like a criminal, you’ll be able to sell your wares right in front of the dungeon. We get between fifteen and twenty adventurers per day right now, but hope that’ll increase as we keep growing. We’ll even go to the guild and talk about formalizing a penalty for those caught buying or selling unofficial guides. It won’t solve the problem, but it’ll reduce your competition a little bit. All we ask in exchange is seven silvers per guide sold. Not a bad deal, huh?

The man balked a little bit, but Vee could see the wheels turning. “That’s too much,” Torres said. “Three silvers per copy.”

“No chance,” Vee said, enjoying the dickering a little bit. “The minimum we’re willing to take is five. Anything less than that and we might as well go make the same offer to one of your competitors. If we end up selling a suboptimal guide, I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. Would you rather be the one profiting or the one being cracked down on? It’s your call.”

Vee shrugged and shut his mouth. He wanted to keep talking, to keep trying to seal the deal, but something told him that continuing to push would hurt his cause more than help it. Patience was going to be key now.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably no more than thirty seconds or so, Torres nodded and held out a plump hand. “We have a deal, Mister Vales. Five silver fleurs a copy.”

Vee shook the man’s hand with a grin on his face.

[Charisma +1]

Later that night, back at Sculla’s, Vee was fast asleep. Alforde was standing against the wall, resting in his strange way, and Reginald was left with nothing to distract him from his thoughts.

The [Core----- Spirit] looked out at the night sky, and admired the way the twin silver moons gleamed in the darkness, but they did nothing to soothe the unpleasant tickle that consumed his entire consciousness. It was an old feeling, a nemesis that he’d believed long-since vanquished.

Guilt.

Today, he’d used [Suggest Thought] on Vee. It’d been easy.

Far too easy.

He hadn’t wanted to, had promised himself that he wouldn’t, but when he saw the opportunity, he’d reacted without hesitation. Reaching into Vee’s thoughts, Reginald had grabbed a promising thread – Maybe I should be more like Sacre – and pulled it to the top.

It’s not my fault, he thought. The fact of the matter is that the boy’s mind is filled with insecurities and half-formed plans the way a raging river is filled with water. He’s got a million thoughts like that one at any given time! I did him a favor! If I didn’t intervene, he’d never grow.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried other tactics! He’d constantly thrown Vee into tricky situations in an attempt to make the lad realize that he couldn’t do what needed to be done if he remained the person that he’d been before arriving in Oar’s Crest, but so far none of his efforts had yielded much in the way of results. No matter what he tried, Vee simply plodded forward at a pace that envied glaciers.

That settled it! Enough of trying to do things the right way! If Vee wasn’t going to budge…wasn’t going to change…then he’d just have to step in and take –

Reginald stopped himself. No. He’d been down this path before, and he refused to do so again. In his mind’s eye, he saw two smiling faces. One, a young kitrekin with brown fur and a curled tail. The other, a young man who’d just wanted to protect his family and friends. His most recent failures. Decades ago, now, but still as fresh as if they’d happened yesterday.

The hat bit back a bitter laugh to keep from waking his companions.

Master, is this what you meant when you told me that fighting against my nature was futile? Will I always struggle like this? Can’t I change?

He hadn’t been expecting a response – his master was long since dead, forgotten to the world as nothing more than a figure in a children’s tale – but he still felt a twinge of pain when one didn’t come.

Sitting there in the darkness, Reginald was left to ponder his faulty moral compass by himself.

He didn’t particularly like it.

Main Character Sheets:

Vee Vales:

Primary Class: Ghost Maestro (Locksmagister University), Level 21

Secondary Class: Dungeon Master (Oar’s Crest), Level 10

Tertiary Class: Guy-Who-Takes-Things-WAY-Too-Far (Self), Level 3

Might: 8

Wit: 28

Faith: 18

Adventurousness: 6

Ambition: 9

Plotting: 13

Charisma: 5 (+1)

Devious Mind: 15

Leadership: 11 (+1)

Guts: 6

Intimidating Presence: 6

Citizenship: 5

Alforde Armorsoul:

Primary Class: Hammer Afficionado (Self), Level 17

Secondary Class: Right-hand man (Vee Vales), Level 10

Tertiary Class: Dungeon Champion (Oar’s Crest), Level 10

Additional Class: Clunker (Vee Vales), Level 3

Might: 30

Wit: 10

Faith: 24

Adventurousness (Bound – Vee Vales): 7

Endurance: 11

Intimidating Presence: 8

Heart of a Champion: 2

Citizenship (Bound – Vee Vales): 3

Vigilance: 4 (+1)

Reginald:

Primary Class: Core Spirit (Unknown), Level ???

Secondary Class: Loudmouth (Self), Level 36 (+1)

Tertiary Class: Majordomo (Vee Vales), Level 7

Additional Class: Announcer (Vee Vales), Level 3

Might: 1

Wit: 27

Faith: 6

Ambition: 24

Greed: 21

Deceptiveness: 32

Manipulat#$%@: &8

F%^*#@: ~

[*#&$#*#&$--#@$--]

Citizenship (Bound – Vee Vales): 2