The Dungeon Gives, the Dungeon Takes

“Otoosan, I’m back.”

    Sitting near the entrance to remove my shoes, I heard distant voices, music. I guessed the TV was on.

    Once in socks, I straightened up and made silent steps, peering into the living room. My father was sitting on the sofa, staring blankly at the large screen. ‘Blankly’ was an assumption of my own, though, since I couldn’t see through his glasses.

    He had his routine he followed every weekend. These were the only days there was someone at home whenever I returned from an outing, since he used to cumulate extra hours at work.

    Not lingering there any longer, I decided it was useless to interact and headed to my bedroom. It was only the two of us since my mother left before I was old enough to etch the memory of her face into my mind. For several years, I thought that he tried to protect me from some sad reality, imagining she died from a tragic accident or from a long illness. But then, I stumbled one day upon an old letter basically saying she was leaving. I stopped imagining another story.

    Once cosily crashed into my bed, I started playing my favourite video game. It was these moments that I enjoyed the most at home. When I could hear the melody of that RPG filling the silence, spending hours amazed by the pretty chara design displayed along with the dialogues, the endless activities in-game, and simply the love put in the game. I could feel it in the effort put in such tiny details as items’ descriptions. They made me giggle. How such a silly thing could? I wanted to craft a game that way too…

    The sound of a notification.

    Pausing my game, I glanced at my phone and read the message displayed. It said, “It was funny today! Keep guessing what your present will be, you have until tomorrow.”

    I chuckled. Shinji kept teasing me with that, threatening to keep my gift if I wasn’t able to find what he planned to offer me for my twelve-year-old birthday. Silly Shinji.

    Even if I never got along with my father, at least we didn’t fight. I assumed I was lucky enough. A family, how could it even work? People you’re assigned to at your birth. They didn’t choose me, I didn’t choose them. How was such a thing supposed to work, anyway? At least I had friends. I had Shinji. They were my chosen family. They were.

***

    Come to think about it, I guess that I gave Tyffeon what I thought would allow him to have, at least, the happiest childhood possible. One he could remember along with a warm feeling. One spent with an adoptive father who chose him, and never regretted nor changed his choice to keep him by his side.

    The moment I hear the echo of the knocking from the outside, I know that morning has come. Letting out a silent sigh, I discreetly straighten up, trying not to wake Timoria.

    A glance through the window allows me to catch sight of a small silhouette outside. Seems that Beluacor is already awake.

    Sneaking out of the room, I leave the cottage and approach the Knocker standing near a fence. In his hand, what resembles a huge yellow berry he waves in front of him.

“Good morning, Beluacor.”

“Oh.” He glances at me. “I thought you would have slept longer.”

“I… had some difficulties sleeping last night, I guess.”

“Mmm.”

    As I lean near him against the fence, I catch sight of the creature which approaches lazily the giant berry. It has all the traits of a beetle, to which are added horns resembling deer antlers. Oh, and it is the size of a cow. A Deerbeetle.

    The monster grabs the fruit with its mandibles.

“This autumn again, it will lose its horns.” Beluacor comments, noticing my stare at the iridescent reflections. “The minerals they are made of are quite appreciated among our folk.”

“Huuuum.” I muse, listening to him.

    A pause.

    I glance at him.

“Doesn’t it bother you to have us all at your house? You don’t even know us, and your ruler doesn’t exactly hold me in a high esteem.”

“If it bothers me?” Beluacor turns his head to observe me. “My son chose to travel with you. This means he trusts you, and that’s more than enough for me.”

    My lips unsealed, I search for an answer, a joke to make. But, finding none, I simply smile at him. Hoping it’s not too awkward.

“They are over there.” A voice encloses, and I recognise Timoria’s soft tone.

    Beluacor and I turn to greet her and Tyffeon.

“Yohh! Since you’re all there, it’s high time for us to go.”

“To go? To go where, dear father-in-law?” I ask.

“Don’t call him like this.” Tyffeon scolds.

“Part of the condition under which you were released from your cell is that I ensured that as long as you are in Toll Dubh, you work along with me in the dungeon.” Beluacor explains, turning away to walk towards another enclosure. “And for this task, we’ll take my fellow companion…”

    Beyond the fence, a massive wooden chest, its metallic parts being golden.

“…you haven’t seen my Mimic King yet, did you, son?”

There is a glint of pride in his gaze while the chest opens to reveal its sharp teeth and long tongue.

***

    Knock knock.

    All along the galleries, stones are tracing the path to follow. Moss, herbs, and blocks of stones cover the ground otherwise. Roots hanging here and there from the ceiling, supported by arched stone pillars.

    Knock knock.

    All along the galleries, the metal resonates against the stone, the minerals. If only a few Knockers work along the galleries of the first levels to ensure their maintenance, as soon as we reach the next open level, we can see them here and there. They dig into the stone, into colourful crystals protruding from the walls with the edge of their picks.

    Lianas outstretched like paws from underneath, the Mimic King runs all along the way. We remain pinned to its upper part by a long leather band, ensuring we do not fall from Beluacor’s peculiar prancer.

“The first levels of the dungeon have become mostly safe,” Beluacor explains, “and if our main occupation is to gather stones and minerals, you can be sure to find many things down there. Even some crops. But we won’t stop there today, we still have a way to go.”

“Still..?” Timoria becomes paler.

    I think she’s not fond of Mimics.

“It’s lower, where wild monsters often appear, that I work.” Beluacor continues. “As a Tamer, my mission is to avoid accidents and ensure the safety of the diggers.”

“He wouldn’t admit it,” Tyffeon completes, “but he’s the most important one in Toll Dubh.”

    His father glances briefly at him.

“Every Tamer is important. They allow the Knockers to keep digging without needing to defend themselves, and they prevent many monsters from being unnecessarily killed.”

“What does your name mean?” I decide to help Tyffeon.

    He remains silent for a while, probably feeling our trap to force him to recognise his value.

    An ominous neigh.

    His gaze instantly shifts. Beluacor shakes his reins, adjusting the trajectory of the Mimic King.

    Sudden shouts of surprise, more neighs.

“W-what is happening?” Timoria asks Beluacor.

“Monsters have appeared.”

    As we bypass a bunch of natural stone pillars stretching to the ceiling, we finally catch sight of them. Two… no, three grim equine silhouettes, their manes burning with cold, purplish flames. One of them is approaching a Knocker holding his pick in defence.

“Don’t move!” Beluacor orders, jumping off the Mimic King.

    The moment he does, the Knocker and the monster turn their gazes towards him. The latter draws back its chops. A long, sharp horn protrudes from its forehead.

    Not even drawing the war hammer he keeps on his back, he runs to the Unicorn closest to the dwarf before any of them attack.

“No need for blood today. Be a well-behaved monster, would you?”

    The violet sparks in the Unicorn’s gaze glint as it neighs in a threatening way, scratching the ground. Light sizzles around its horn, almost ready to unleash a magical attack.

    But Beluacor doesn’t flinch. He holds its gaze, the horn already charged when… suddenly the energy dissipates.

    The grim horse snorts, takes a step back.

    Until, finally, it lowers its gaze. The Tamer approaches it, giving the Unicorn a stroke before approaching the two other ones.

“Beluacor is an original name.” Tyffeon comments. “I’ve already told you about it, but these are seldom to be bestowed. Belua Cor is his name, and it traced his fate as a Tamer. It means… Beast’s Heart.”

    As the remaining Unicorns are soon rendered harmless, we dismount from the ambulant wooden chest and join Tyffeon’s father.

“There’s supposed to be a Tamer at this level.” Beluacor turns to the Knocker he rescued. “Where is he?”

“Domiteo isn’t there today.” The dwarf shrugs, shaking his head and, in the process, his messy brown beard. “He accompanies his son to the edges.”

    Beluacor frowns, a solemn expression over his features.

“I see… Today is the day he departs to the depths of the dungeon.”

    Silently listening to the dwarfs for now, I glance at them, thinking about a way to orient the conversation without giving out what I already know. Finally, my eyes settle on Beluacor.

“I guess by your looks that this is more than an innocent travel.”

“Nay.” Beluacor meets my gaze. “That is one he may not return.”

“Why?” Timoria wonders, worried.

    For a brief moment, Tyffeon’s father remains silent.

“Each Knocker reaching his 35th year of life is sent alone to the depths of the dungeon. That is a tradition we all bend to, the rite of passage. Only once we return from the depths are we recognised as a full member of the community.”

“Ahh! Yes, you said something about it last night, that they return with eggs.” Timoria chimes in.

    Beluacor nods.

“They bring it back with them… for those who return. But if initially our young ones were bound to spend 35 years down there before being allowed to return, the last centuries the number of them who returned each time dropped. It went to such extents that we considerably reduced that amount of time.”

“That reminds me…” Tyffeon frowns. “When I left Toll Dubh, Curreo was about to be sent to the depths.”

“Curreo, you say…” His father trails off.

“Yes, we used to spend much time together back then. I guess I should pay him a visit.”

    Beluacor seemed uneasy, avoiding to answer.

    Of course, it makes Tyffeon frown. And of course, he asks the question.

“Did something happen?..”

“Curreo… Curreo did not return.”

    Upon hearing these words, Tyffeon’s eyes widen. His lips unsealed, he says nothing. Until finally averting his gaze, turning around and walking away.

    I take a step forward to follow him, but then I feel a hand upon my shoulder. Beluacor shakes his head, spurring me to stay.

    Worried, I follow Tyffeon’s silhouette. Depending on the turn the events take, he might get too engaged. What if being by my side only makes him suffer… What if there’s a better choice for him to make…