The news of the war effort coming in was good. According to the reports I received, so many people had shown up at Port St. Grandus that the Mage’s Guild there had to divert manpower in order to create temporary housing for them. It was easy enough to account for all of the soldiers and government workers who were going, but there were no concrete numbers on how many adventurers and dungeon owners to expect.

  That was good. So far, it was shaping up to be the biggest expedition to the Southern Continental Dungeon in history. There were always opportunities to slip spies into the ranks with a larger force, but there were people working on rooting them out.

  But right now, my mind was on something else. We had finally received the call I had been waiting for, and our time to meet the Dungeon Master had come.

  Ferrisdae had decided to stay behind, not quite ready to meet with the Dungeonborn. She had made leaps and bounds through therapy, but this was a trip for Tabitha and Dalsarel. I still hated the idea of it, but I wasn’t so proud that I wouldn’t ask for help if it meant making sure my wife was safe.

  I glanced back at the Dark Elf as we walked through the bowels of the Department of Dungeons. We also needed to see if there were going to be any lasting effects from the Blackwood Queen’s seed. If we got to the Southern Continental Dungeon and CC could abuse it somehow, that would lead to a lot of trouble. Dalsarel looked down at me, catching my gaze, and gave me a questioning look. I simply shrugged and continued to our destination.

  The only way into the Department of Dungeons was the entrance in the Middle, but the part of the building in the Bottom wasn’t pure stone like the Royal Tower or Mage’s Guild. There were holding cells, storage rooms, and places to hold meetings. That said, it was usually deserted except for a select few people who had reason to come here. We descended all the way down into the basement, under the city itself, where vaults lined the hallway.

  “I had no idea the DoD went down so far,” Tabs remarked, having apparently been counting the flights of stairs.

  “Because no one talks about it,” I explained. “The lowest level is one floor that’s been cut off from the system under the city through concrete that has been reinforced with both metal and magic.”

  “Wow, what needs all this protection?” she asked, slowing down to inspect one of the heavy vault doors before catching up.

  “Dangerous dungeon related items, whether they were taken from them or used to make them, and the director’s office,” I answered.

  At the end of the hallway was a plain wooden door. The only thing of note about it was the brass nameplate for Director Ortaephaen. I knocked, and it quickly opened, revealing the man in question. The Elf was positively ancient, with white hair and wrinkled skin. He was definitely well past retirement age even for such a long lived race, but hr almost looked youthful with how energetic he seemed.

  “Come on in,” he greeted, his voice strong despite his looks, and he waved us through the door.

  I stared at the double door frames and the scene behind Director Ortaephaen. Closing my eyes for a moment, I shook my head. “You let the Dungeon Master turn your office into a dungeon?” I asked with a scowl. “And then let him take it over?”

  During the whole debacle inside the Thousand Year Blizzard, the Dungeonborn had made doors that led to other areas he had control over. It didn’t surprise me that the director had allowed it, he always did have an overpowering thirst for knowledge, but that didn’t make me any less disappointed. My scowl was only exacerbated when he gave me a knowing smile and remained silent.

  The area was one I easily recognized despite not having been here in months, and I heard both Tabitha and Dalsarel suck in a breath at the view. We were high in the mountains overlooking a mix of green forests and blue lakes in the valley below. I honestly had no idea where we were, but it was one great view.

  Nearby, outside of a modest cabin, was the White Wyrm Oristrella herself in her Human form. She was unclothed as she lounged on a reclined chair, that stone rectangle the Dungeon Master had given her still in her grasp. Her alabaster skin was almost hard to look at from how reflective it was in the sunlight. There was no way she was getting a tan.

  The Dungeon Master emerged from the cabin, no longer wearing the garish purple and green outfit but a simple cotton shirt and pants that were much easier to look at. He was a wide man, though not fat, with messy black hair and brown eyes. I had always thought he looked like a Human, and this was the confirmation I needed. His face was a little chubby, as though he still had a lot of baby fat. Now that I was seeing him, he reminded me a bit of Keith Carr, the man he had called his father.

  I blinked, tilting my head as I looked at him. The last time we had met, his face had been all blurry. I literally could not make out anything but the vaguest of features. Our eyes met, and his widened slightly.

  “You’re not going to punch me again, are you?” he asked, almost looking like he was going to wake up Oristrella as he took a step towards her.

  “Depends,” I answered, crossing my arms. “Are you going to mess with my wife and second junior the same way you did my first?”

  The Dungeon Master chewed on his lip, his eyes darting to the two women flanking me before landing on who I assumed was the director behind our group. Tabitha sighed and approached.

  “Hi, I’m Tabitha Rhodes,” she greeted, offering him a handshake. He took it slowly, disarmed by her smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Badger and, let me tell you, you would have gotten a lot worse for what you did to Ferry if I had been there.”

  His eyes went wide, and he laughed nervously. “Oh,” was all he seemed able to muster.

  “Don’t you threaten him,” Oristrella demanded, one eye on Tabitha as she stretched languidly in the chair. “If you upset my sweetheart, I’ll freeze you from the inside out.”

  “Oh? The lizard speaks?” my wife replied, not cowed in the slightest. In fact, she grinned. “I’m sure little Ferrisdae wouldn’t like you threatening her adopted mother like that.” The Dragon’s eyes narrowed at her before she smirked, closed her eyes, and went still again. Tabitha looked back at the Dungeon Master. “And I’m glad that’s settled.”

  “Why are you causing trouble?” I sighed. Usually I enjoyed watching my wife throw her diminutive weight around when she was being protective, but this was hardly the place. “We didn’t adopt Ferrisdae.”

  “We did in spirit,” she answered before looking back at Dalsarel. “And we have two more daughters than we did last year. Were you unaware?”

  “How can I be spiritually aware of it when you don’t tell me these things,” I replied.

  “Anticipate, husband,” Tabitha chided teasingly. “Anticipate, and accept.”

  I looked up at the sky in mock exasperation before tilting my head towards Dalsarel. “Welcome to the family, I guess.”

  “Thanks, I think,” she said, furrowing her brow in thought. The Dark Elf seemed to keep casting glances at the sleeping Dragon. She looked like she wanted her sword in her hand.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Director Ortaephaen clapped his hands, gathering everyone’s attention. “I have a meeting to attend with the war council, but I shall be back. You may leave whenever you like through the Dungeon Master’s door. Is there anything you require of me before I go, Badger?”

  “No, everything is fine,” I told him.

  “Then good luck,” he said with a smile before stepping out of the door, leaving us.

  “I guess we should begin?” the Dungeon Master asked more than said.

  “This is your show, so if you’re ready then we can,” I replied. “Did they tell you why we came?”

  That made him perk up. “Yes! You’re going to be the leader of one of the teams, and your wife and new apprentice are coming along. You were so impressed with the buff Himia and I gave you that you wanted to pass it on to them.”

  “That’s not right,” I immediately said. “While what you did could be called impressive by some, sure, it was unwelcome at the time. These two came here knowing what you can do and accepting it because we’re about to get into very dangerous situations and they want to keep up.”

  “Need to keep up,” Dalsarel corrected, grimacing. “That girl can barely run to save her life, but I don’t doubt her magic could crush me if we fought.”

  “Honey, that girl’s name is Ferrisdae and she’s only about four years younger than you in the grand scheme of things,” Tabitha said. “That may mean many years to you, but that is not an insurmountable gap. Plus, spellcasters and martials are on different power scales. You know this.”

  “Yeah, I do,” the Dark Elf replied. For someone who acted so mature, it almost sounded like she was pouting. Her face, however, was like stone.

  “If it makes you feel better, you’re definitely going to get some magic,” the Dungeon Master offered, and she perked up. Yeah, she had definitely been pouting. “You’re the one who got the seed in her hand, right?”

  “That’s right,” she confirmed with a nod.

  The Dungeonborn gestured her over, and she approached. I did as well, joining the group. He seemed a little nervous at that, but when I didn’t make any threatening moves he loosened up.

  “Let me see your hand,” he said, and Dalsarel offered it to him.

  The Dungeon Master took it in both of his, massaging it. He leaned in and took a closer look at it, looking for something the rest of us couldn’t see, before placing his ear against her palm. Dalsarel quirked an eyebrow before looking at us, and we shrugged. This was new to us, too.

  “Oh, yeah. This is a pretty nasty combination,” he murmured, nodding to himself. “The seed is still in there, though, which means it can be used against you.” After about a minute of poking and prodding, he cracked the knuckles on one hand and pressed his fingers onto her palm.

  “This will hurt,” he warned. She grimaced as his fingernails dug into her, and his digits followed. Blood spilled from the wound as she squeaked in pain before suppressing the noise. It only took a second, and he withdrew.

  In his hand was a small, spike covered seed. He brought it up to his eye, looking it over, before conjuring a potion and a handkerchief in his free hand. “Here, drink and use this to remove the blood,” he said, offering it to her.

  Dalsarel, cradling her hand, looked at it before nodding. She removed the stopper with her teeth before imbibing it, and the wound on her hand closed up. When the empty vial was offered back, he ignored it and she simply kept a hold of it.

  “Yup, this definitely has CC written all over it,” the Dungeon Master said with a nod. “Your holy magic—congrats, by the way—reversed most of what it had done to Dalsarel. The seed is normally used in the Blackwood Queen’s necromantic, moldy thing that she does, but there was a curse placed on this one. That’s what turned your hand to wood. There were also traces of someone visiting your dreams using this as a focus, but that just made you an easy target. Well, easier.”

  “Aside from the curse, we knew most of that,” I told him.

  “Well, I’m sorry, I’m a little out of the loop out here,” he replied, gesturing towards the view. “I know bits and pieces of what’s going on, but the vast majority of my time has been spent going over things with the old man. Dungeon magic, my old home down south, CC. Hasn’t really been a lot of time to keep up with how my favorite Inspector and his party has been doing.”

  “I sorely hope you mean Ferrisdae,” I said flatly.

  The Dungeon Master shook his head. “No, I meant you.”

  “I flat out punched you when we first met,” I scoffed.

  “Yeah, and now I’ve seen the error of my ways.”

  “You flinched when you thought I might do it again.”

  He shrugged. “You might have. It’s kind of easy to notice that Ferrisdae isn’t here, you know. I’m glad you didn’t just replace her with an older model, though,” he joked, nodding towards Dalsarel.

  “That’s our daughter and our other daughter you’re talking about,” Tabs warned.

  “And this one has really wanted to deck me since she saw me,” the Dungeon Master said, pointing down at my wife. “Which I think is pretty unfair because this is the first time we met, which means you’ve been saying nothing but bad things about me. That’s actually kind of hurtful.”

  “Are you reading our auras again?” I challenged with a glare. “Because I distinctly told Himia not to do that and I assumed you’d realize that meant you, too.”

  “No, I’m not reading your auras,” he replied quickly, putting the seed into his pocket. “I can tell because I have a combination of eyes and empathy and she nearly crushed my hand when shaking it.”

  I looked at Tabitha, who shrugged innocently. “I don’t like people who hurt my girls,” she defended.

  That made me sigh, but that was my wife all the way through. “We need to move on. CC and Ulrich can’t reach Dalsarel anymore, right?”

  “I’m assuming Ulrich’s the dream guy.” The Dungeon Master turned to the Dark Elf and looked her up and down, stroking his chin. “Ulrich probably has a bead on her dream signature and can reach her if he really wanted to, but her class upgrade should remove that weakness pretty handily.”

  “You said that I would be receiving magic, right?” Dalsarel asked hopefully.

  “Yeah, I believe so,” he answered with a nod. “Not the same as you had, though. That was kind of just planted inside of you and granted you magic like an item would. This would be 100% your own, but how it manifests could vary. I would say you would probably turn out as some kind of magus or spellblade.”

  “As long as I have magic, I will be happy,” she said curtly. “When can we start?”

  “Himia?” the Dungeon Master asked.

  The blue haired secretary appeared beside him. She appeared as a Human, but everyone here knew she was not. This was an Information Elemental, and was the only one of her kind that I knew of. As usual, she was in a yellow sundress that clung to her unnecessarily curvy body.

  Resisting the urge to glance at the naked Dragon, it occurred to me that the Dungeon Master definitely had a type. Then again, if he had been telling the truth then Himia predated him, which means he probably took after his father. I remembered the version of Keith Carr from the story dungeon and how lecherous he was, especially when it came to Ferrisdae.

  The memory made me frown, and he gave me a nervous smile.

  “I am here,” she announced flatly, her voice as devoid of emotion as ever.

  “Could you take Tabitha Rhodes and Dalsarel and adjust our system so they can get their class upgrades, please?” he requested, turning away from me. “I have some things I need to talk to Badger about.”

  I pursed my lips but said nothing as Himia nodded. She turned to the two women. “Please, follow me,” she requested before turning and walking into the cabin.

  Dalsarel followed immediately, but Tabitha gave me a quick kiss on the cheek first. The look she gave me afterwards told me to be careful, and I would heed it. Not that I thought it was necessary; The Dungeon Master may have been powerful, but his bearing was that of someone in their late teens or early twenties and not nearly as confident as he should be.

  That thought meant I wasn’t surprised when he sat next to Oristrella, throwing a blanket over her body to preserve whatever modesty he might have thought she had, and gestured for me to sit across from him. I did so.

  “So,” he started, looking me in the eyes. “Let’s talk about how the Dungeon Inspector class is progressing, and how you’ve already moved on to the next stage I had planned without needing me to unlock it first.”

  My mind wandered back to the string after Abara’s death, and I nodded. Himia had been confused by what I could do, and this was a power that would most certainly be necessary in the Southern Continental Dungeon.