DEATH 9: MIMIC’S CITY

It turned out that drunken ravings as a greeting weren’t exclusive to the basement floors.

None of the other surveyors who shared the common room bothered to hide their irritation. Their frowns were on full display as they backed away from the dwarf, who barged through the door carrying a large chest under one arm. Like they didn’t get drunk if no clients arrived before noon.

At least this adventurer was classier than my previous ones. Scents of raspberries, cinnamon, and rosemary filled my nose as he came near, instead of stale beer and cheap perfume. The subtle jewels that decorated his armor lit up at my approach, causing me to sweat. None cast any wayward protection spells, but my stomach didn’t stop churning at the possibility until he was in his seat.

Pitch flew into the air as he slumped onto his side, his blonde beard long enough to flow off the couch and pool on the ground. Jewels decorated that as well. The majority were diamonds, but rubies peppered the piece to give the ensemble a bit of color.

It was one of the prosperous clans’ more subtle designs for showing off their wealth. Poorer clans often botched their attempts at mimicking the style, trying for images that went over the top. One dwarf walked around town with each gem perfectly placed to form a picture of his own face.

Downright creepy was the common remark whenever he came into The Guild.

“You want to hear a secret boy?” He slurred, while his bloodshot eyes tried to focus on mine. They missed, instead, staring at my badge.

“How may I help you, sir?” My tone was pleasant, with the barest hint of interest.

Without warning, the dwarf reached out and grabbed me, pulling me so close our noses were almost touching. From the corner of my eye, Pitch started making kissy faces. Little shit.

“I found one!” His bloodshot eyes widened as he spoke, pupils darting about the room as though he was worried about eavesdropping. “I found a new one. Right in the city!”

“Found what, sir?” My attempt to push him backward didn’t work. It was like trying to shove a boulder.

“A new dungeon.”

The whispers surrounding us died. A quick study of his face told me he was being honest, or at least he believed he was. This was big news. New dungeons were extraordinarily rare. Several factors needed to happen for one to generate: something big was required to claim it as a new home, other monsters needed to make it larger, and whatever god dropped in treasure needed to get to work.

Nobody knew what else was required.

The wizards running the nearby teleportation gate were studying how to make their own. No such luck yet, even with The King’s rumored funding. With this news, Adventures would flock to us, meaning downstairs would gain a brisk trade from newbies wanting a boost.

New Dungeons were great for that. With the potential for unique magical gear and monsters inside them, they were perfect dens for profits and training. And with one in the city that anyone could reach? It was going to cause a massive uproar.

His smile matched mine. This would be a perfect chance to push my luck with the Thieves Guild. There was no doubt they would send representatives to scout. Dungeons offered them a great place to commit an assortment of crimes. Any issues that arose were easy to blame on a doppelgänger or humanoid monster.

Plans swirled about in my head, focusing on the best way to draw one out. If the urchins continued to follow me, they could be useful? Maybe flash some gold or find some treasure near the entrance to pique their interest?

No, that would be too obvious.

Something simpler then. Make it obvious where the entrance was, and see what they did. If they sent a runner to fetch someone, go in and wait. If they didn’t, then start flashing gold around.

This was going to be fun.

“Tell me everything you can, sir. I’m sure I can be of assistance.”

Everyone was listening in, with two bolder surveyors settling down behind him. He burped and ran a hand over his face before continuing. The dungeon was near the docks, located underneath an abandoned enchanters shop, an overlooked casualty of the dragon attack. The heat caused him to seek shelter, and once inside, he noticed a trapdoor behind the counter.

As a respectable citizen, he investigated. Someone needed to check, no vagrants took advantage of its state of disrepair. Someone might have used it as an excuse to take up residence or to steal any remaining wares. A good thing too! Behind the counter was a trapdoor to the cellar, ajar and emitting strange noises. Without knowing if the owner was alive or dead, he took it on himself to investigate in case they required aid.

He didn’t find the owner, though something found him.

Monsters attacked! Not two steps inside, a giant stone worm burst out of a nearby hole and tried to swallow him whole. He made a fighting retreat into the store, acquired some money, and came straight to us.

The chest he shoved into my arms, alongside vague instructions, was heavy. Pitch caught my eye, and together we lugged the chest home, leaving him to snooze on the couch. One of the other surveyors could deal with moving him.

It was time for us to explore a new dungeon.

***

Pitch rode on my shoulder, nodding emphatically at my loud explanation about what was going on. Our tails, a noticeably smaller group, eyed each other with excitement as they listened in. Even ones as young as them understood how important this discovery was.

A taller girl with messy brown hair bolted away from the group as we stopped in front of the store. Her pace not slowing, even as she knocked over a sign that read Exspellerious Enchantments. The door was ajar, and my client’s footsteps were visible thanks to the ash that covered the stone floor. No glass remained in either the windows or cabinets, their contents pilfered by anyone who could get past the protection spells.

We followed the footsteps behind the counter, where we found evidence of my client’s investigation to find the trapdoor. A three-legged stool and a collapsed shelf lay across it, a clear sign that, drunk or not, my client didn’t want to be followed.

That matched his story.

No monster tracks appeared in the ash. Either nothing made the attempt, or his makeshift barrier stopped anything from climbing out. A sign of weak monsters, or ones who needed to stay underground. No way to know without heading down.

A glance showed the girl was still missing from the group of urchins outside. A pity. That meant we needed to kill time. Notes about the shop and the location filled my parchment, as Pitch monitored the children in between rooting around the ash and dirt on top of the shelves.

With a joyous cry, she held up a ring in two hands. She held a plain copper band that lit up, shooting out a steady beam of light as she waved it around the room. A torch spell. It was a common enchantment for shops like this that catered to adventurers.

Not everyone could use my dark vision spell.

Her pleading face met mine, and her cheer caught our watchers’ attention when she saw me nod. The owner returning was unlikely, plus she wasn’t the first to loot the store.

At least she was happy.

My focus returned to note-taking as she waved the beam of light around. Her whispered swearing caught my attention, dragging me away from my intricate description of the broken glass. A sign for the new arrival. Part of me wanted to check if it was Torug, but no. It wasn’t worth the risk. If he suspected a trap, they’d scarper. Better to start our descent and pretend we didn’t know.

The trap door pulled up smoothly, and my dark vision spell allowed me to see that nothing lay in wait to jump me. Pitch followed me down, and we found ourselves in a storeroom, though with several odd additions. While the haphazard placement of boxes and barrels was normal, the multiple human-sized holes that punctured the walls were not.

A check of the boxes made my heart sink; uncommon minerals. What did that dwarf claim he saw, a giant stone worm? That was bad. If true, this dungeon wasn’t an accident. Stone worms grew by eating rarer and rarer materials. At a guess, whoever owned this store found one and started feeding it. A competent enchanter could use the monsters’ excrement in all kinds of powerful enchantments. The stone-covered bastards grew fast.

Now that its free meals were over, it would hunt underneath the city. No one mentioned seeing the owner since the dragon attack. Maybe they didn’t remember to take off any jewelry during feeding time.

That idea triggered another one. Was that the reason it attacked the Dwarf? If so, the worm should leave us alone unless we provoked it. This might be the safest trip we’d ever done.

A quick peek down the nearby hole revealed nothing but more tunnel. None were any different, so we’d have to pick at random. Pitch took that observation as her cue, choosing one at random and lighting her way with the ring still looped around her waist. Each movement shifted the light beam across the packed dirt that made up the tunnel’s walls.

After twenty minutes of walking, we found ourselves in a circular chamber where the stone worm stopped to feed. Massive chunks were missing from the walls, and colorful stones littered the ground. After examining the walls, we found flecks of gold.

Overwhelming relief filled me over the fact that it wasn’t my job to report this to The King in person. His anger at losing a fortune in resources would be immense. It would be fortunate for the store’s owner if the worm got them, or else they would wish it did.

Two tunnels ran from this room, aside from the one we’d used to enter. Pitch picked again, and we walked until we found another circular chamber. This one was smaller, with something odd sitting in the middle.

A treasure chest.

Not what anyone would call a grand treasure chest, mind you, one made of golden bands and solid unpickable locks. No, this was a more basic box with cheap iron bindings.

The lock was wide, meaning it would be easy for anyone with the skill to stick in a lock pick. My hand moved to grab Pitch before she could go investigate the obvious trap. We both stared at it from a distance until the box shifted.

With an overdramatic creak, the lid lifted, displaying first teeth and a long, thin tongue that tasted the air. So a Mimic, one of the classic dungeon monsters. Not dangerous for anyone who knew what they were doing. New adventurers and drunks, though? Those would feed it well.

It made no move to grab us as we stuck to the outside wall of the cavern, instead settling back down with a soft click as we left. Creepy. The caverns remained similar in size and shape as we traveled further inside. Up ahead, we could hear Rumbles, but my map was completed by the time we found the worm itself.

Coiled up like a snake, the rocky tube filled the cavern before us, its resting state an attempt to camouflage it as some sort of sculpture. Slight tremors ran along its length, the single telltale sign the beast was still alive.

We stayed nearby to sketch it until the map was complete, and we could leave. A strange sensation settled on my shoulders at the realization: this was the first time we’d mapped an area without dying.

Neat.

This time everything was going as planned.

***

No monsters bothered us on the way back, and though we were careful about making too much noise, neither did we hide our presence.

Part of the plan was to run into anyone who followed us down here. We wanted one of their scouts, someone simple to deal with. If they sent an assassin? Harder, but not impossible. That would mean they were trying to kill me, which would mean my plan of getting everyone badges would be less effective. An issue, but not an insurmountable one.

Upon returning to the mimics cave, we found ourselves face to face with a small bandaged figure who waved at our entry.

“Fancy meeting you here,” said our Thieves Guild Guide as he stepped forward, a dagger appearing in his hand. “Yes. Yes. Quite a surprise. Dark down here. A bit like before. Not as dangerous, though. No. No. Not as dangerous.”

Before either of us return a greeting, he continued. “New badge. Shiny. Nice. You should go. Can’t start up with you. Off you pop. Others coming.”

That was it, confirmation of my protected status. Though from the way Torug acted at our last meeting, we’d known that already. Now we needed to confirm the limits of those protections. It took an effort to keep my face straight. A part of me hoped for a high-ranking member of the Thieve's Guild, Grimm's right hand.

He was what they sent, so we would make do.

The question now was how best to utilize this opportunity. Outright attacking him would be too obvious, the same as having Pitch do it. She wanted to, and she wanted it badly. A constant stream of muttered swears and the way she lowered her Pitchfork as though to charge was evidence of that.

No, we needed to trick him. Though, if he was Soulbound, a lethal accident wouldn’t be a problem.

“I’m surprised they let someone normal down here. The King’s rules dictate that only someone Soulbound should traipse around a dungeon,” My words bounced around the room, the cave walls causing a miniature echo.

It was true, though not a rule anyone smart required. Every dungeon discovered before today, adventures stumbled upon out in the wilds. Few normal people bothered to chase down glory in their dark, dangerous depths. Those that chose that path didn’t survive to face The City Guard, anyway.

His front teeth showed in his smile. “Well, Grimm wouldn’t want us breaking the rules. No. No, she wouldn’t. I’ll be fine. Get sent outside sometimes. Scout. Good one too.”

No concerns about confirming his status. Good. That meant nothing stopped me from going after him, and hard. He continued to blather on about his job, his squeaky voice more confident than when he’d led us through the underground tunnels. A pity how his shaking hands and darting eyes gave him away.

A dungeon novice. New surveyors all wore the same look. A clinking sound behind me drew my attention, as the lid of the mimic lifted a touch. Could it sense his fear? If so, that might work.

“Would you like to split some gold?”

Pitch glanced at me, her eyes glaring as we moved to the side, revealing the treasure chest behind us. The ratfolk licked his lips and stared at the chest that was now shut tight. Good monster.

“No one else needs to know. Just, well, my skill set isn’t with locks. Even ones as easy as this.”

An air of malice, muted but present, surrounded me. The creature’s way of showing it didn’t appreciate being insulted. Though it stayed shut, which was something. Pitch caught on, ducking behind my neck, so her wide smile wouldn’t give the game away.

“You’ve heard the rumors of rare treasures in new dungeons, right?” My voice remained calm, even as he nodded so fast it looked like he might break his neck. “There’s a stone worm further down whose been eating gold. There’s a high chance whatever treasures we find will be as valuable.”

Total bullshit, what you found in dungeons was random until dying adventures could fill out the rest of the stock. His widened eyes and tentative footsteps forward told me he didn’t know that. My voice rose to cover Pitch’s giggles.

“So, you willing to help?”

He didn’t even agree. Instead, walking to the chest and pulling out a set of lock picks. Any warning he received from Pitch’s full-on burst of laughter was far too late. The box flew open with a slam, drawing everyone’s attention back to it. Teeth of varying shapes and sizes lined the boxes’ edges, as a woman surged out from the middle.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful to be natural. Everything about her was on the edge of perfection, similar to the succubus. An artist’s creation. Designed to captivate an audience that is no longer satisfied with anything real. Pink hair fell close to the small of the back. Not, not hair. Parts of it lifted, twitching and writhing in the air.

Tentacles then. The same ones we’d seen before. Clever.

Her angelic face housed a smile so wide we could count each of her perfect teeth. And her figure under the almost translucent summer dress fluttering in a none existent breeze?

Well. That was impossible to miss.

Ample would be the best way to describe it. Every part of her appeared to be the right amount of soft and firm. Anytime she focused on someone new, her proportions would shift by subtle amounts.

A Venus Flytrap made flesh.

The Ratkin didn’t get time to scream, as the mimics smile widened, and as though on a hinge, everything above her bottom lip flipped up to reveal a gaping maw. We all could guess what would happen next. The burp once she was done, however? That was unexpected.

Her eyes fell on me next, and her hair flowed forward.

Pitch was a step behind me as we ran. The Mimics chocking rasp of a laugh following us through the tunnels.

Our job was done, and without dying, for a change.

A nice bit of luck.