Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series)

by Alex Oakchest

  “A fair point. As it happens, dungeon morale was the very reason I was using my core vision.”

  “Not to check they weren’t planning an insurrection of some kind?”

  I saw no reason to lie. Gulliver and I were alone in my core chamber. “That was part of it, yes. I forgave the scene in the remembrance chamber because I understood their motivations. That doesn’t mean I’ll stand for it again. When the dog growls at you once, you train it. If its growls get louder and it starts to bite, you have to step up your discipline.”

  “What did you learn from your espionage?”

  “That a few simple actions might go a long way.”

  “What about Shadow? She was their spokesperson, Beno. I don’t pretend to know about leadership matters at all, but it seems to me that all your problems would go away if she did.”

  “Kill one of my own dungeon mates? Are you mad?”

  “Hells no, Beno, not that. I was thinking about banishment.”

  “I need her talents. I can’t begin to tell you the number of times her stealth has proven useful against heroes, and her canines are like little demons when it comes to battle. I have it in mind to get armor for them, at some point.”

  “Then perhaps not banishment,” said Gulliver. “You could send her on a task that gets her away from the dungeon for a while. Perhaps a journey of a few weeks or so, until you have murdered Cael and sailed the good ship Beno’s Dungeon into calmer waters.”

  “As I said, I need her. Especially against Cael. No, I have something else in mind.”

  “Then what?”

  “You’ll see presently. Ah, here they are!”

  Shadow, her dogs, Tomlin, and Wylie walked into the core room. “Dark Lord wanted to see Wylie?”

  “Yes. Wylie, I am promoting you to Dungeon Enforcer.”

  “Enforcer. Dark Lord?”

  “Henceforth, you are not responsible just for the discipline of your miners, but for the whole dungeon. I don’t want you to change a thing about the way you work, Wylie. Don’t think that this means you have to start banging heads against walls. I want you to work exactly as you currently do, but with the dungeon as a whole instead of just your little team.”

  Wylie’s smile beamed so wide I could see his tonsils. He stuttered, tried to speak a few words but ended up just making a series of unintelligible grunts.

  Shadow patted him on the shoulder. “Well deserved,” she told him. “I’m glad you’re getting recognition, Wiles.”

  Tomlin hugged his kobold friend, slapping him on the back with his cultivator gloves. “Tomlin congratulates you, Wylie!”

  “Recognition…promotion…thanks…discipline…” babbled Wylie, before falling into a series of grunts.

  “We’ll discuss your new authorities and rewards later,” I said. “You can go tell the good news to whoever you please.”

  Wylie scampered off, his feet padding on the ground and quickly becoming faint echoes as he made his way out of the chamber and down the tunnel.

  This left Shadow, her dogs, Tomlin, Gulliver, and me.

  “Shadow,” I said.

  “Dark Lord,” she said, nonchalantly.

  “Tomlin.”

  “Dark Lord,” said Tomlin, trying to be even more nonchalant than Shadow.

  “I need everyone in the dungeon to be multi-skilled. Tomlin, I’d like you to help Shadow improve her archery. Our ploy with the last heroes shows how valuable projectiles can be.”

  “I don’t need a gardener’s help in improving my-” began Shadow.

  I cut her off. “Shadow, I’d like you to teach Tomlin the basics of stealth. You kobolds are built for sneaking, both in physique and nature. A little cross-training won’t hurt.”

  “Tomlin doesn’t want-”

  “That’s enough,” I said. “You have your orders.”

  When Tomlin, Shadow, and her dogs left the chamber, Gulliver grinned at me. “Forcing them to spend time together, eh, Beno?”

  “As much as the idea of kobold romance makes me want to vomit my gemstone innards, I can’t abide any more of their games. As far as I’m concerned, both will be happier if they put their differences aside, and this will improve morale and perhaps shut Shadow up for a bit. Meanwhile, they both learn new skills that will come in handy for the dungeon.”

  “Wylie certainly seemed happy with his promotion. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kobold smile so much, I thought you’d broken his brain.”

  “He’s earned it. The promotion, I mean, not a broken brain. I have to admit, he’s the kobold who has surprised me the most. I took a chance in making him supervisor of the miners in the first place, but it’s like watching a beautiful weed grow large enough that it smothers the roots of all the pretty flowers around it. That’s what Tomlin is - a lovely, thorny, weed among roses. Now, I have one last thing to do.”

  For this, I projected my core voice all the way to the level below us. “Razensen?” I said.

  Using my core vision, I saw Razensen sitting beside his pool in his vast chamber. He was looking all around him as if he’d seen a spirit. “Beno? Was that you?”

  “Yes, Razensen. It’s me.”

  “Where the icing hell are you?”

  “You’ll have to get used to this,” I said. “But it’s not important. I’m going to move down Kainhelm to your level, if that’s alright with you.”

  “Alright with me? Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “When it comes to Kainhelm, you’d be surprised at what people think.”

  “I wouldn’t be so surprised, stone. Let the poor bugger move to my chamber, by all means.”

  “Good. Thank you.”

  Now, I projected my voice to another part of the dungeon. “Kainhelm?”

  “Yes? For poxes sake, what do you want, Beno?”

  “I’d like you to move to the lower level, please. I think it would be best if you patrolled down there.”

  “Taking pity on me, is it?”

  “Not at all. This is strategic.”

  “Strategic, eh? Then I would be glad to follow your directives, Core. If only because Razensen is the only one who talks any sense around here.”

  I turned my attention back to Gulliver. “There. Done.”

  “Everyone’s happy,” said the scribe.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s a start.”

  That evening found me in the meeting chamber, floating above the oval oak table. Chief Reginal was sitting at the head of it, and Chief Galatee was at the other end, about as far away as she could get from him without breaking decorum.

  “Both chiefs coming to visit me at once,” I said. “I’m honored. Or should I be wary?”

  Reginal banged his fist on the table. “I don’t want to hear your quips, you damned gravel nugget! You’ve landed us in a pit of cow turds, Beno.”

  Galatee lifted an eyebrow. “Such a temper, Reginal. Why not try and discuss this in a more civilized manner?”

  “Don’t give me that, co-chief. Your mask doesn’t trick me, woman! Trust the anger you can see, my father always said, and keep an eye out for the anger well-hidden.”

  “Your father was a genius, obviously,” said Galatee.

  “As much as I’m glad you came here to bicker, what do you want?” I said.

  Reginal pounded the table again. “Tell me something, you miserable pebble. How does Yondersun grow its food?”

  “Core Jahn has begun terraforming the earth. I believe your crops are harvesting nicely.”

  “Terraforming? Pah! I’d barely call it that. Whatever you want to name it, as of now, we still need to buy fertilizer from Hogsfeate. High strength alchemical fertilizer, the only compound that will get anything to grow in this pit of hell.”

  “And the mana oil for our forges,” said Galatee, cutting in. “Where do you suppose we get that? And the hay and food for our livestock?”

  “Hogsfeate, by any chance?”

  “Correct,” said Galatee, calmly clasping her fingers together and leaning
on the table. “Do you understand now, why Chief Reginal and I would be so troubled to have a messenger come to us from Hogsfeate and deliver this?”

  She took a scroll from her pocket and placed it on the table. I hovered over it, understanding Reginal’s anger more with every sentence.

  “What is it?” said Gulliver, from the corner.

  Reginal pounded the table. “I tolerate your presence, scribe, but you are to be silent!”

  “Don’t talk to Gulliver like that,” I said, “and don’t pound my table again unless you come here with the gold to pay for it.”

  “You wretched lump of-”

  “You are in my dungeon now, chief. You will not utter a single more derogatory comparison between me and a stone, you wrinkled old frog. You will not be rude to Gulliver, and you will not be so disrespectful to my fixtures and fittings.”

  “Or what, Beno?”

  “Gentlemen, we are forgetting ourselves,” said Galatee. “We are here to discuss the almighty turd that Beno has landed us in.”

  “I ask again, what does the letter say?” asked Gulliver.

  Reginal kept his lips closed while staring at Gulliver with the look of a man trying to crack an egg using only his mind.

  “Dullbright has written to Reginal and Galatee,” I said. “Explaining our recent…troubles. He writes that as long as the chiefs tolerate me living in my dungeon so close to Yondersun, they will not consider completing a single trade deal between the two towns. Any travelers from Yondersun will be turned away from the Hogsfeate gates, as will any merchants suspected of being covertly employed by Yondersun.”

  “So you see,” said Reginal, his voice barely controlled and his tone dripping with anger, “No more fertilizer, which means no more crops, which means we can barely feed our people. Most settlements are but a few missed meals away from collapse.”

  This was bad enough, but something occurred to me then. Reginal’s ridiculously angry reaction was the clue.

  He was holding something back. A weakness that he didn’t want to show in front of me or Galatee.

  This wasn’t just about crops for Reginal. If Hogsfeate wouldn’t trade with Yondersun, then Reginal couldn’t get the chemicals he needed for Cynthia to create his son’s lifesaving orbs.

  I understood why he was so angry now. Crops were one thing, but Dullbright’s letter cut even closer to the bone for Reginal. His anger was that of not just a father worried for his son, but a father who was expected to hide it and put his peoples’ interests before his personal ones.

  This was a problem indeed.

  And a delightful opportunity. I just had to work out a way to use it.

  “Why not just have Cynthia make the fertilizer? She’s one of the best alchemists around.”

  “The greatest chef in the world can’t bake a cake if all he has in his pantry are rotten eggs and curdled butter.”

  “It’s a matter of supplies, then.”

  “Damn it, Beno,” said Reginal, “Until we’re completely self-sufficient, everything is a matter of supplies.”

  “Then what do you expect me to do?” I said. “Move my dungeon across the wastes just to keep that old fraud happy?”

  “Not provoking fights outside of his town would be a start,” said Galatee.

  “Dullbright attacked me, actually.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “The man is demented. He hates cores more than any hero I’ve ever seen.”

  Lacking Galatee’s subtlety, Reginal eyed me with blatant suspicion now. “What were you doing in Hogsfeate, anyway?”

  I saw no reason to lie. “Getting something that I needed to help me murder heroes more efficiently. What do you expect? That I was sightseeing?”

  “None of this matters now,” said Galatee. “Because it gets worse. You haven’t read the other side yet, Beno.”

  Gulliver, sensitive to my lack of arms yet subtle enough not to draw attention, turned the letter over in the pretense of wanting to read it. There was just a single paragraph on the other side. It didn’t make for happy reading.

  “He knows that Core Jahn lives here, too,” I said.

  “Yes. Core Jahn, who builds all of our houses, our shops, our wells. Core Jahn, who is working on a personal project of mine; a memorial to commemorate the lives lost in the forging of our town. Core Jahn, who helps with our farms, who actually contributes to our town, and is a large part of why we have been able to grow it so quickly. Lovely Core Jahn, who doesn’t lurk below ground only concerning himself with slaughtering heroes.”

  Reginal spoke at almost a growl now. “You’ve gotten poor Jahn into a bind, Beno. You should do the decent thing.”

  I read the last paragraph of the letter again.

  To settle matters and restore relations with our fine towns, I would request that one of your cores – it matters not which – is given to Hogsfeate. I must show my people that cores cannot run amok, slaughtering guards unprovoked.

  If you fail to send one, I fear that our trading relations are irrevocably ruined. My own standing in my town may suffer, and perhaps I would have to do something drastic to recover it.

  Yours expectantly,

  Sir Dullbright

  Reginal raised his fist above the table, caught my eye, and then stopped himself. His anger had faded now, and I saw something else in his eyes. Fear, perhaps.

  “Do you see, Beno? It’s you or Jahn. One of you must face up to this so we can keep this dunce happy. And if not…”

  “His threat is quite clear,” said Galatee. “I expect that he’ll bring his full force upon our town.”

  Reginal got up. “I have things to do, and I don’t want to spend another second in this grubby little kobold guesthouse. Beno, I expect you to do the decent thing. I’ll give you three days.”

  Reginal left the dungeon, but Galatee stayed. She put on hand on the table and placed her other on top of it and she sat there calmly, her gaze never lifting from me. When the sound of Reginal’s feet trailed off, she spoke.

  “You aren’t winning many friends in town,” she said. “Starting feuds with trading allies will likely plummet your popularity further. I would say that right now, Beno, you rank somewhere between chronic sunburn and a plague in terms of how much people like having you around.”

  “You can’t, and shouldn’t, be friends with everyone.”

  “Neither should you make an enemy of everyone.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “Come on, Beno. You aren’t stupid, nor do you keep yourself ignorant of what happens in Yondersun. You know there is a movement growing.”

  “Ah,” I said. “The No-Cores.”

  “A troublesome bunch of big mouths who flap their gums just to feel the breeze on their teeth.”

  “Then why let them gather? You’re the chief. One of them, anyway. You need Core Jahn to build your town, and however much you deny it, you rely on me and my dungeon as defense. Why let a movement opposing Jahn and I grow?”

  “Because no power is absolute. In fact, most power is but a figment. An illusion of light and smoke dispersed if one were to try and touch it. Even as chief, I need the support of the people. If they chose to oust me, if the hundreds of Yondersunians decided to gather as one and physically remove me from town, do you think I could stop them?”

  “That’s why you have soldiers.”

  “Even they are people. Power is just a story that we tell each other. I tell the townsfolk I am their chief, and they tell themselves it is true. But when an influential enough person successfully changes the narrative, power is gone.”

  I thought about the scene in the remembrance room. When an influential enough person successfully changes the narrative, power is gone. Not the most reassuring thought to have.

  “What does that have to do with a bunch of morons who hold up anti-core signs and sing songs?”

  “Some of those morons are valuable to us. Take Ten-Toes, for instance. He’s the best mason in town, and he’s training
five apprentices. Without him, our stonework, such as we need, is shoddy.”

  “So you couldn’t get rid of them even if you tried.”

  “Nor could I afford to lose you and Jahn completely, as you point out. I must balance both sides of the scales without breaking them entirely.”

  “I can’t help but think this is another threat.”

  “A friendly warning this time, Beno. When a fire is burning, don’t throw wood onto it. Let it burn out, even if you must watch the flames tower above you for a while. Because burn out it will, believe me. Just make sure you don’t get yourself completely engulfed by it in the meantime.”

  CHAPTER 10

  The morning sun had no mercy for Gulliver and me after we left the dungeon and headed toward Yondersun. A mosquito bounced into me in midair and then hovered, confused about the giant gem floating above the ground. Gulliver walked with his usual strut, though I could tell from the sweat beading on his forehead that he was far from comfortable.

  “Why not wear something more suitable?” I said. “You’ve visited us here before, Gulliver. It’s not like you don’t know how hot it is. Why do you always dress like you’re going to a ball?”

  “It costs nothing to take care of yourself.”

  “Only twenty pounds in bodyweight sweated out from your pores.”

  Gulliver shrugged. “I told you about the merchant caravan that I joined as an apprentice, hoping to record the story of the travelers of the desert. Two hundred and six days in the blistering heat under an unforgiving sun. Men with lips more cracked than a mirror after my dear grandmother looks into it. After that, a wasteland like this is a refreshing change.”

  “That doesn’t mean you should punish yourself to look good.”

  “It’s no punishment, Beno. While some might grumble at the slightest discomfort, I certainly don’t. Besides, I grew up the sixth of eight brothers. If you include my parents and my father’s half-sister, that was eleven of us sharing a three-bedroom hovel in the beggar’s district in Idoford. I grew up wearing hand-me-downs that had been handed down to one too many hands, from brother to brother, until mine were just shreds. Now that I’m a master scribe I don’t need to beg and borrow, so I don’t.”