The City and the Dungeon: And Those who Dwell and Delve Within

by Matthew Schmidt

  "An herb cafe where the herbs themselves taste good is unique," I said.

  "Believe me, I've gotten many competitors now. So, what's the Core like?" Mical asked.

  "Remember that first time we went into the Dungeon?" Sampson said. "When we could die at any moment, and it was all so hopeless—or so we thought? Imagine that, except everyone is in a massive, insanely high level superparty, except it's still deadly dangerous, and there's no Elevatarch, and no way out. And every single thing is horrible. Even the treasure is trying to kill you, or worse..." Sampson cut himself off.

  "Shardgear?" Mical asked.

  "How did you know?" I asked.

  "High level parties," Mical stated.

  "Strategic leaks," Elise said. "They'd rather the public believe the worst thing down there is shardgear. It's the best conspiracy theory, in their eyes. Then they'll make bald-faced denials, then sheepishly admit that there's truth to it, ram legislation through the Council, and therefore attempt to keep the status quo. It turns out it's working faster than they expected."

  "Every high level party that's gone through here has been mumbling about something, if not saying it outright," Mical said. "I don't know if the secrecy will last the week."

  "All according to plan," Elise said.

  "Which brings us to what you saw," I said.

  "By the way," Elise said. "Alice Black is probably watching us at this very moment. I don't think even the wards of the Courthouse could stop her now."

  "The fact she isn't trying to stop us is implicit permission," I said. "Spill the beans."

  "Are you prepared? You might be better off not knowing."

  "You're as bad as Alice Black now," Xavier said.

  "What are you talking about?" Mical asked.

  "We ended up having to fight the 75th Boss," I said, "and survived, somehow."

  "I didn't," Sampson growled.

  "Anyway, we found something evidently so horrifying it's turned someone who normally detests the High Houses into a confidant," I said.

  "What? Is it what's below the 75th?" Mical asked.

  "Worse," Elise said.

  "The 76th Floor apparently begins the Deepest Core, which is what it sounds like," Xavier said. "We might have gotten wiped by that Deepest Core Prismatic Hydra." At Mical's insufficiently horrified look, he continued, "We almost were instantly killed by a wandering monster. And we doubt it was an out-of-depth."

  "But Elise's thing is worse," Mical said with a raised eyebrow.

  "Yeah, just get to it," I said.

  "Fine," Elise sighed, but not in exasperation. "Once we killed the Boss, I opened up one of the Boss chests while checking it for traps. I looked inside and found something so important the High Houses decided to hide it from everyone. They paid everyone literally two thousand violet apiece to forget about it. And you know what I saw?

  "Another Cornerstone."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine:

  Power and Wealth

  "You can't be serious!" Xavier said.

  "I am deadly serious," Elise said. "I used my N-Type Identify, and Alice Black used all of her N-Types, then an Absolute Knowledge. It's a Cornerstone. Which means that Cornerstone over there—" She pointed in the direction of the Square. "—Isn't unique. And that opens up a whole array of awful questions. If there's more than one, can they be destroyed? And what does that mean? Everyone stays dead if they die? Or does everyone just die instantly?"

  We were silent as we considered the possibility. Having faced death so many times, and actually died, too, I didn't know it what it would mean to die, permanently. Even if I was lost, shattered, or turned into shardgear... There was still hope, right?

  But if there wasn't?

  "And think what it means now," Elise continued. "There's a reason what I saw is the political equivalent of a summonstorm in a box. We have to follow the Law because we agree to it the moment we receive a heartstone, right?"

  "So a second Cornerstone would produce delvers who never followed the Law. But how is that different from..." Sampson caught himself.

  "Believe me, I know what happens in the Deep," Mical said. "I had to yell at someone who brought a disrupting crystal inside here." I could picture Mical's staring down a hapless, quivering blue.

  "Crystals aren't permanent," Elise said. "But someone who never agreed to the Law would never be tracked."

  "But you would know that they never agreed to the Law, right?" Xavier said. "Unless they had some spell to create a fake aura."

  "Oh, that's not what they're concerned about. They told me," Elise said. "Remember, there's no evidence that the Dungeon is actually below the City. What if some surfacer city got a hold of it, and made their own Private Entrances, or their own Elevator? The shallow levels would be full of their delvers, who didn't follow the Law, or followed their own. And what would the City do? Declare open season on innocents?"

  "Ugh," I said.

  "There's no way the High Houses would let that happen," Xavier said. "There's not a surfacer army in the world that could stand up to them."

  "Houses, plural. But a single High House could create this second City and gain immense political power. Or provoke a civil war. Or both. Like I said, it's a summonstorm in a box, completely encrusted with Deepest Core Humongous Summongus Lords on the sides, atop a replication trap. I don't know what they did with it, but I guarantee you every High House is sweating on the inside. The Council, too."

  "If I was in charge," Xavier said. "I would deposit it in the most secure vault of the Bank and get members of every High House to guard it."

  "You're awfully trusting of the High Houses," Elise said.

  "I'd just be worried of setting off a civil war, considering that there are more High Houses than ours."

  "It's times like this I am very glad I settled for this herb cafe. Except..." Mical trailed off.

  "What?" I asked.

  Mical didn't reply.

  "Hey, it's OK," I said. "We're friends here, right?"

  "We've already spilled our secrets," Sampson said.

  "I should have read their contract more closely," Mical said at last, and pointed at the menus above the counter. "What's the difference there?"

  It's one of the benefits of high Intelligence to see freshly painted numbers and immediately spot the pattern. Xavier spoke first. "Everything for low-level delvers is more expensive, except for Dungeon-going necessities. Your red and orange customers will have to pay more, unless they delve deeper."

  "Precisely," Mical said.

  "They ordered you to do this?" Elise asked.

  "In so many words. Very forceful words, earlier today."

  "What are they trying to do?" I asked, knowing what would be the reply.

  "Shift the demographics," Elise answered. "Force the reds and oranges to delve more, so that more break past the 5th Boss, and a few more will reach the Deep. They figure that will mean a larger pool to eventually form superparties, to start regular Core expeditions."

  "This isn't just me," Mical said. "Every other shopkeeper I've talked to has either implied or outright said the same thing. The High Houses want this to happen. I can see why. More shardgear. More treasure. Maybe even more Cornerstones."

  "Why isn't the RDU screaming about this?" Sampson asked.

  "It's only happened today. But still, either they're in on it, or they don't have the clout to win the fight and they know it. There's nothing illegal in raising one's prices. There is a certain clause in my loan agreement about such things."

  Xavier shook his head. "This is going to backfire, somehow. I know it."

  "Be that as it may, I still have to obey the contract. And yes, I've talked to a lawyer. Legal 4. I'm certain your House's lawyer has Master Legal, correct?" I couldn't help but notice the tone of the words your House.

  Sampson coughed. "Shall we change the subject? I have something to show you all." From his Bag of Holding he withdrew a small black pot with a transparent lid. Inside, a green liquid swirled.

&n
bsp; "What is that?" Mical asked.

  "That's the stat increase cauldron, isn't it?" I asked.

  "Of course. And I'm going to drink it," Sampson announced.

  "You're going to drink the whole thing?" Mical asked.

  "No, only to hit the cap," Sampson said. "I've done the math. It'll be enough."

  "Wait, Sampson, are you sure—" I began, but there was no stopping him.

  He drank. As he drank, his muscles bulged, then more, and then changed again, smoother, then stronger again, then harder, then it stopped. Perfect. When he set the cauldron back down, I felt a sense of pure power in him, as if there was no longer anything he could not move or hold. His Strength? 1,000.

  "That was... unexpected," Sampson said. His voice had depth to it, like a tiger. "I feel like lifting something. Something massive."

  "Maybe you and Alice Black can arm wrestle," Xavier suggested. "Would it automatically be a tie?"

  "Or try using black gear just to see what your attack is like," I said.

  "Speaking of gear," Elise said. "Aren't we all a little underequipped now?"

  I looked at myself. "You know, aside from those new shoes, my robe and the staff Seth Black gave me, I don't think I have any violet gear. I have the money."

  Mical sighed. "Here I am, working hard hours running a business, and you go talking about spending violets as if it's nothing."

  "Yeah," I said. "Were my net worth to be measured in red, it would be in the sextillions—didn't mean to brag."

  "I'm not jealous. I'm just amazed, to be honest."

  "Of course," Sampson said. "You don't risk dying on a daily basis. Or being shattered."

  No one had a word to say to that.

  * * *

  There's a handful—but more than you'd think—of high spectrum gear stores. Part of this has to do with the variety. Anyone can buy or use the lowest level gear, but nearly everything high level is Class Restricted, sometimes to just one subclass. Many stores serve but a handful of delvers, and on the whims of those delvers do these stores live or die.

  These stores don't advertise—maybe a tasteful listing in Blues, but nothing more. The really, really high end stores are invitation only, and make the mere invitation a status symbol. The only thing you can't find there is the personal gear of the highest level parties.

  I didn't plan to use my invitation as a status symbol. But I knew I was woefully undergeared for a violet, and I didn't want to wait. What I was looking for would eventually turn up in the Auction House, sure, but it could be a while and the price was often jacked up... by these very stores' bids, as they hoped to resell them. Though I suppose that can only mean they are even more jacked up when you go to said stores. You just can't win.

  I held the black, lacquered card. The black-windowed, several storied building had no external decoration except a gold Ivan's above the doorway. Rather than a hostess, two guards stood outside it in Time Dragon scale. They were just blues—no chance of stopping a violet, but enough to make the place seem rich and unapproachable. Of course, Ivan's catered to support classes. The Dragon Knights (or possibly high level Dragon Squires) could take an upset Master Healer if need be. If they had drain resistance, they could probably take me.

  They opened the door and bowed as I approached. No need to ask for my invitation when there were only so many young violets. I strode in, feeling suddenly that I knew perfectly how to play my part.

  The interior was luxurious: panels of fine, shining wood; spotless carpets; couches; gilded tables; and pearl-handled doors. It was even scented—roses. No, several scents, blended into one.

  Ivan himself bowed at my entry. He was a short, white-haired man, although I can't imagine he was actually that old, deliberately drinking cursed potions of youth, perhaps. "Welcome, welcome. Thank you for gracing our store with the presence of a deepest delver. Do have a seat."

  Pretty, finely robed ladies guided me to a couch. Did they have a set of high Charisma guys for the women who came in? "May we get you anything to eat? Or drink?" asked one.

  I felt as if I should ask for wine. "Grape juice," I said, compromising. "And some cinnamon rolls."

  "Of course, sir." One hurried off, while the other stood by me.

  The couch beneath was so soft. Made by a master craftsman with high Perception, I decided, as he must have known how to make every cushion, every texture feel just right.

  "To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?" Ivan asked me.

  "I'm looking for cloaks," I said. "High resistances, zero Encumbrance. Significant Wisdom increase, or Power to drain. Indestructible, if possible."

  "For Boss battles, sir?"

  "Of course," I said.

  "I will bring out our exclusive collection."

  The lady came back, leading a trio of other pretty ladies bearing a platter—one cup and a plate of perfect cinnamon rolls. Master cooking, I was sure, with a kitchen in a time-altered DA bubble to make it in minutes. I had one bite, and I paused in ecstasy.

  Another pair of ladies placed a violet chest before me—they must have bought it off a Deep delver just to use as a prop—and opened it to reveal a number of carefully folded cloaks. One removed them in turn, while the other cast Greater Identify and sent the stats over telepathy.

  One caught my attention.

  The Rising Sun's Cloak

  Violet Gear

  +0/+100/+200

  Requires: 60 Intelligence, 50 Dexterity. Class Restricted.

  +30 Wisdom, +2 7th Spell Slots.

  Indestructible. Blindness Immunity. Perfect Sight.

  I could barely keep from staring; Ivan must have seen that for he made a subtle gesture, and the ladies held it in place. I knew it was one-of-a-kind—because I had heard of it, a drop from the 50th Boss. I had imagined some delver had it as personal gear—unless he had been on our Core delve and swapped it out.

  "Good," I managed to say. "That one. I'm also looking for something for prebattles. Zero encumbrance, negative encumbrance even, and..."

  They went through the rest of the cloaks. There was no reason to make haste, especially when I had food right in front of me. And, of course, I could afford any of it.

  I decided on another, an indigo cape that cast Haste on the wearer. It wouldn't last after I took it off, but I would take less time casting prebattles. Having been in the Core, I knew that the rules we delvers had decided were true—such as having a time to cast prebattles before being attacked—might soon turn out not to be true.

  "Gloves," I said. "I'm looking—"

  A distant female voice gave a most exasperated and lengthy sigh from upstairs. I wondered what it was, and if anyone would be offended if I sought the source (probably). But I didn't wonder long. A white-robed girl with long golden braids, each ending in metal shapes, marched down the stairs, trailed by five apologetic attendants. High Charisma guys, all of them.

  "My good Lady Ambrosia," Ivan said to her.

  "Don't you 'good lady' me," she snarled. "This... great dunce told me my choice was a suboptimal build for a multitype. A suboptimal build! Says an orange with stat abuse!"

  "I'm sorry," the "great dunce" in question said, "I didn't mean—"

  She walked out the door.

  "Your pardon, sir," Ivan told me, then beckoned with an angry finger at the offending attendant.

  With my Perception, I could hear the argument through the corridors and behind the door perfectly. Even through the vibrations their voices made in the floor, I could feel enough to know.

  "How dare you offend a customer?" Ivan demanded.

  "Sir, she wasn't—"

  "I don't care what she wasn't. She is one of our most important customers. And you know what will happen if she doesn't come back?"

  "Um, well, I didn't mean—"

  "You did. You're gone."

  "What?" I could hear every note of his agony. "Sir, I have to—"

  "Gone. Leave. I don't want to see you again."

  "Sir—yes, sir."

>   One of the ladies must have noticed my stiffness. "Sir, would you like—"

  "Nothing," I said, and pushed the platter away. A drop spilled from the cup on the perfect couch. I didn't care.

  Ivan emerged from the corridor. "My apologies for that incident, sir," he said.