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

by Alex Oakchest

  “Can’t you see I’m preparing?”

  “Reginal…must you fight today?”

  “You are, so why not me? I’ve been a soldier all my life. When I go too long without it, I feel empty, like a sack of skin with my vitality sucked out. We are their chiefs, my love, and if they look to us and see that we won’t risk our own lives, then why should they risk theirs?”

  “Because, as you rightly say, you have been a soldier all your life. You’ve already put in the hours on the battlefield. Nobody could doubt that. And your heart…”

  “My heart is fine. That damn healer is a worry wart!” said Reginal.

  He suddenly covered his mouth. He turned around, his back to her. His shoulders trembled.

  “And that cough of yours. Don’t try to hide it. You aren’t well.”

  “I’m fine, damn it!” he said, waving his sword. “I will fight. Nothing you can say will persuade me otherwise.”

  “I’m scared, Reginal.”

  The chief lowered his sword. He stared at his wife. “Scared?”

  “For you.”

  “I…” and then he stared deeper into her eyes, and he realized the truth.

  “You harlot!” he said. “You always know how to prod me. To tease the guilt out of me.”

  Galatee smiled. “It was worth a try to get you to see sense.”

  “You’re like a block of stone, woman.”

  “And you’re rock-headed. We make a fine pair.”

  “We will still make a fine pair when this is over, and we’ve slaughtered that damn duke and his men. I ask you, Galatee, where were people like Smit when this was just a wasteland? Did a single one of them think about trying to settle this place?”

  “It was too much work for them. Without a core, it would have been impossible.”

  “Aye, a core, two clans’ worth of good, determined people, and months upon months of sweat and persistence. Now that we’ve built something here, they have finally decided there’s something in the wasteland worth having.”

  “Wanting something isn’t the same as getting it,” said Galatee.

  “So you see why I wear my armor and carry my sword again. I’m not so old I can’t swing it, and I’m not so settled in the chiefly life that I expect others to fight when I will not. One day this could be Devry’s land to rule. I won’t let anyone take it from him.”

  “Devry’s?” said Galatee.

  “Of course. Who else?”

  “You know I love the boy as if he were my own son, but we never said Yondersun was ruled under a monarchy.”

  “I didn’t think it needed to be said.”

  “That’s quite a decision to be left unspoken, the system of rule of an entire town,” she said.

  They were silent for a minute.

  Reginal spoke. “Let’s make sure there’s a town still left to rule before we worry about who gets our job when we die.”

  Duke Smit dismounted in the middle of the street. There were rows upon rows of wooden shops and houses either side of him. It was honestly more than he’d expected from a town all the way out here, and it showed a remarkable inventiveness on the townsfolks’ part that they’d made it work. That inventiveness would serve him well when they fell under his banner.

  Above a blacksmith shop was a sign that read Jahn’s Row. That would have to be renamed, of course. New rule, new names. He would have to purge any record of the town’s old leadership and customs.

  The weathermage dismounted and waddled over to him. “Well we are here, Duke. You promised payment when we reached Yondersun.”

  “Something’s wrong. Where is everyone? This was a thriving town, by all accounts, yet there is not a single soul here. Are you sure your fog worked?”

  “The elixir I brewed for you and your men allows you to see through it,” said the mage, “So, I understand your suspicion about its existence. The fog is there, alright. If it wasn’t, this mercantile street would be full of traders and patrons, would it not?”

  Smit pointed at Lerner, the head cavalryman who was sitting on his horse in front of his men. “Check every building. Five men to each one. Inspect every room and be careful.” He turned to the mage now. “Fog or not, they somehow knew we were coming.”

  “I promised you fog, good Duke, and I gave you fog. I did not make any guarantees as to its results. Perhaps the Yondersunians grew suspicious.”

  “Aye, well they can’t have gone far. This is the bloody wasteland, after all.”

  “Whatever your next move is, Duke, be quick about it. The fog will soon lift.”

  An hour later, every single dwelling and shop in town had been checked, without any sign of the occupants. It was as though the entire town vanished into the ether.

  The duke paced up and down Jahn’s Row, his unease growing.

  “Duke!” said Lerner.

  “Yes?”

  “The men are wondering…since the town is ours now, can they have something to eat and a little rest?”

  “Ours?”

  “Well, nobody is here to stop us…”

  “The people didn’t just vanish! And if they did, what good is a town with no people in it? We need the town’s gold and its economy… not just the terrain. We need the traders to run the shops, and we need the townsfolk to work the land. What good is a bunch of abandoned shops? You must have found some sign of life around here.”

  “Strangest thing, sir. There were signs in every house of people being here recently.”

  “So they’re hiding somewhere. They have to be. Check every single house again. Make a perimeter around the town, say a mile, and search every inch of the place.”

  Two more hours passed, and Smit felt like his stomach was a wet rag being squeezed to shake the drops from it. He had to relieve himself three times, and even then, he still felt poorly. His mind kept flashing to his children’s faces, and then to Lord Dresden’s face, and that made him feel worse.

  Why couldn’t I have been born the son of a blacksmith or a fletcher or something like that? Comfortable, yet not overly so. No responsibility. Just a quiet life in a quiet place, with Shayna still alive, my children growing up without the stress I have had to face…

  “Duke!”

  It was Lerner, the head cavalryman, returning from his search.

  “Yes?”

  “We found something. Two doors are hidden in the ground. I think I know where they are.”

  “Two doors?”

  “One on either side of town, Duke.”

  He sighed. “Our cavalry is useless, then. Dismount, and we’ll smoke these moles out of their hole.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Smoke poured into my dungeon, pumping in from the door that led to the surface and filling the first chamber. Upon seeing it in my core vision, I immediately contacted the Yondersunians, using my amplified core voice.

  “Reginal? Galatee?”

  “The crafty bugger is trying to smoke us out, as we’d expected,” said Reginal. He huffed as if he were moving around.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  “Just practicing my form.”

  “Right. And the paste Cynthia made for us?” I said.

  “Doing its job. Cynthia was sent to us by the gods, I swear it.”

  “Don’t forget Maginhart, I’m told he did most of the work. Cynthia sprained her wrist apparently.”

  “Your kobolds have hidden talents, Beno,” said Galatee. “What next?”

  “In an hour, the duke will start to wonder what’s going on and why his smoke didn’t draw us out. Until then, we need to be patient.”

  “I wish I could say that was Reginal’s strong point,” said Galatee. “Luckily he can borrow some patience from me.”

  “Good luck,” I told them.

  “Same to you, Beno.”

  “Is Jahn with you?”

  “He’s in the emergency tunnels with the rest of the non-combatants. We can’t risk him.”

  “Good. At least I know he’s safe. When the duke c
ommits some of his soldiers below ground, you and Galatee will need to take a tunnel to the surface and attack from the rear.”

  Turning my attention back to my core chamber, I saw Maginhart standing there, grinning. He wore a burn-proof apron covered in splotches and stains, and his hands bore many cuts and burns that had healed over.

  “That’s a smug smile if ever I saw one,” I said.

  “Yesss, Dark Lord.”

  “You did well today, with the paste.”

  “It wasss nothing.”

  “No, it was something, alright. It shows how much you’ve progressed under Cynthia’s teaching. This alone makes me sending you to become an apprentice worthwhile.”

  “Pleasssed that my learningsss can help the dungeon, Dark Lord.”

  Using my core vision, I watched the duke’s smoke filling up the first chamber, only to be absorbed by the chamber walls and leave much of the space clear.

  It was nice to see one of my plans working as I intended. Before the duke even got here, I had tried to think about all the things I would do if I was Duke Smit and I had arrived in town only to discover the residents were hiding underground.

  I decided that I wouldn’t just charge in. First, I’d try to make the residents come to me. And how would I do that? Well, the fog surrounding the town was a clue. I’d smoke them out.

  To combat this, we painted the chamber walls using a chemical made by Cynthia and Maginhart, allowing them to absorb smoke. The Yondersunians had done likewise with their cavern, meaning that Smit’s ploy was useless.

  So, what would Smit do next?

  If I were him, I still wouldn’t come charging underground. Next, I would probably send some of my stealthiest people to scout things out.

  Duke Smit resisted the urge to pace, well aware that all eyes were on him. A leader’s attitude transferred to his men, and he didn’t want them agitated.

  Lerner approached him. “Nothing, Duke,” he said. “No sign of the townsfolk at either door.”

  “They’re not coming out. You don’t suppose the smoke killed them?”

  “We lit only small fires, Duke. They could not produce enough smoke to be deadly.”

  “Then this clearly isn’t going to work. Send in Argyle and his team.”

  “Yes, Duke.”

  A kobold sauntered into my core chamber. Four hounds walked beside her, being unusually quiet and well-behaved.

  “You have them well trained, Shadow,” I said.

  “It wouldn’t be much help if their excitement showed itself in times like these.”

  “It’s good to have you back, you know.”

  “Thank you, Core Beno. It’s…it’s good to be back.”

  “Why do I sense you’re holding something from me?” I said.

  Shadow stared at me. I couldn’t help but feel she was working out whether to trust me with whatever she wanted to say.

  “It’s…Redjack. Sometimes, I remember what I did. I get flashes of it. I close my eyes and see that horrible witch’s face. That smile, that laugh she makes. I hear her voice and how it told me to do things.”

  “You’re free from her now, Shadow.”

  “Not if I still remember what I did.”

  “It will just take time, that’s all.”

  “How did…how did the academy get the memories of your human life out of your head, Core Beno?”

  “Only the forgers know that. The academy guards its secrets tightly.”

  “I thought so. Forget it, Dark Lord. I came to tell you that we have movement in-”

  “In the first chamber. Yes, I see the duke’s men sneaking in like thieves in the night. We’re ready for them. I have made sure they can make their way to the loot chamber without a single trap going off, and without meeting any of our dungeon mates. We have closed off all alternatives routes through the dungeon, giving them only one, clear path.”

  “And when they get to the loot chamber, we kill them?” asked Shadow.

  “That would completely ruin the point. I have a surprise waiting for them in the loot chamber. A bunch of townsfolk. At least, that’s what the soldiers will think…”

  “Ah. An ambush! They’ll reveal themselves as soldiers and attack the duke’s scouts.”

  “No, we let the soldiers leave unmolested.”

  “What? With all undue respect, have you lost your mind, Core Beno?”

  “I know, I know. I hate the idea of it too, but sometimes you need to be patient. Imagine a banquet is awaiting us. A royal feast with the most splendorous food.”

  “Like garlic-friend mushrooms?”

  “Yes. Now, imagine that the scouts are plain old biscuits. Would you really fill your belly on them and ruin the banquet because you are too full to enjoy it?”

  “Ah,” said Shadow.

  “They’ll leave the dungeon, and they’ll tell the duke that they’ve located the townsfolk and that there are no dangers down here. And then…”

  “And then he will send his men into the dungeon.”

  “Like pigs to the slaughter. That’s when we open up every passageway. Let them get lost in the warren of tunnels, let them stumble into our trap-strewn chamber of horrors. Introduce them to Kainhelm, Razensen, and all our other delightful dungeon mates. Reginal and Galatee are ready to do the same in their cavern.”

  Duke Smit paced incessantly. His throat was like sandpaper, but he hadn’t had a drink in hours. He didn’t dare. He’d already had to relieve himself eight times, and his men had noticed. Some of them appeared to be making bets on it, and Smit had half a mind to join them. His guess was he’d need to go another five times before he finally expelled the nerves from his body.

  Finally, Argyle and his scouts emerged from under the wasteland, their black uniforms covered in dust and dirt. They formed a line in front of the Duke and saluted him.

  “What did you find?” asked Smit.

  “Tunnels underground, Duke. It must have been a mine of some sort. The townsfolk are hiding in the middle of it.”

  “And the other door?”

  “A large cavern. More townsfolk are taking shelter in there, too.”

  “And you weren’t seen?”

  Argyle gave a smug smile. “We are scouts, Duke. Not even the gods could see us. Besides, they had their backs to us.”

  “Very good. Then I suppose there’s nothing for it. Lerner?”

  The head of the cavalry saluted. “Ready for your orders, duke.”

  “You, Argyle, and Yulpity from the infantry need to divide your men and send them underground to bring the Yondersunians out. Use force but do not kill any of them, for gods’ sakes. I need them to understand that their town is mine, but I need them to continue their lives. I need their smithies to make things and their merchants to sell things, neither of which they can do when they’re dead. I also don’t want to stir a rebellion of any kind. The harsher we treat these people now, the more they’ll want to rebel once my banner hangs above their town.”

  “Yes, Duke. If I may say,” said Argyle, “The townsfolk are clearly cowards, hiding underground. A small force would be sufficient to drag them out.”

  “No. Take no chances. I want them to see a sizeable force so that they understand this is serious. But again…no killing. Yes?”

  “As you wish, Duke.”

  Fifty-two of the duke’s soldiers filed into the first chamber of my dungeon. I waited a few minutes and then, satisfied no more were coming, I ordered the surface door to be closed behind them. The resulting slam caused a clamor among the armed men and women.

  One of them ran up the steps to check it. “Locked!” she said. “We’re bloody trapped!”

  “Can’t be. It’s just stuck, is all.”

  “Then get up here and help me!”

  Seven of them pushed against the door, but it wouldn’t move.

  “Light your torches and move your arses!” shouted an officer. “The townsfolk are in the center of the mine. They’ll know the way out. Argyle? Lead the way.”
r />   The procession of soldiers walked down the passageways of my dungeon. Their uniforms, unmarked before now, became dirty when the dust fell on their shoulders and when they brushed against the tunnel walls. Every fourth man held a torch up high, lighting the channels of mud and stone. The passageway forced them to walk single file, which made some of them clearly uncomfortable. I could tell that none of them envied the man they called Argyle, who lead the way at the front.

  I used my core vision to watch them. I looked at their faces, and I saw the fear in their expressions. As I’d thought, they were soldiers trained for battles on the open plains. The dread of an underground tomb was new to them, and the discomfort showed on their strained faces. Soon, it would become deadly.

  Thwack!

  One soldier stumbled over a tripwire, falling face-first to the ground.

  “Keep your bloody eyes open, fool.”

  “The walls! What the hell is-”

  Panels opened on the walls either side, firing a volley of arrows into their midst. Soldiers fell clutching their necks and shoulders, gurgling on their own blood, gasping for air that refused to answer their call.

  “Shields up!” shouted an officer.

  “How?” answered a woman. “There’s barely enough room to raise our arms!”

  Their voices rose into a chaotic babble. Some crouched, others tried to draw their swords but found they were standing too close to their fellow soldiers. One man fell into another, forcing him to drop his torch. The flames lit on the trousers of yet another man and quickly spread up his leg, causing him to barge into the men in front of him even as one of his comrades tried to douse the flames.

  The fear in the air was delicious, and all the more so because these men and women were soldiers. It made it a much stronger kinder of fear, coming from these people who were trained for battle. It was so strong that it became a current in the air, reaching me all the way in my core chamber.

  “This place is full of traps!” shouted one.

  “The walls are trying to kill us!”

  “Back! Back! Move out of my way, damn it.”

  One voice rose above them all.

  “Order!”