alexanderwales
patreon
This Used to be About Dungeons, ch 183, Influence
🕑 Added 2023-06-20 16:50:32 +0000 UTCThis chapter is a day late, sorry. The schedule will be shifted one day over, so Thresholder will be Friday rather than Thursday. I've gotten in the bad habit of writing longer chapters, then also writing Thresholder and TUTBAD at the same time so that when Monday rolls around I don't have a completed chapter of it, or it's still in need of editing, or whatever else.
~~~~
Priya Voyt was standing at the door with a mild expression on her face. She was dressed in a wrap the color of turmeric with flowing white fabric underneath, her gray-streaked hair twisted into a knot behind her head. According to Alfric’s mother, she had been a superb dungeoneer in her day, but she was now thin and unimposing, at least going by her looks. She carried a sword that was so long she was using it as a walking stick, digging the point of the sheathe into the soil.
She started with a sigh. “You’ve been experimenting with the fundamental nature of the dungeons,” she said.
“Priya,” said Alfric. “Are we … not doing greetings?”
“Fine,” she said with another sigh. “Alfric Overguard, lovely to see you again, how are you doing this fine morning?”
“I’m doing well,” said Alfric. He shifted his footing. “We just had a large breakfast. There’s more food, if you’re interested, but we’re going to be moving the house soon. Did you want to come in?”
“I’ve had my breakfast,” said Priya. “But if you have who I’ve been told you have in that house, yes, I’d like to enter.”
“I’d like to insulate you from her,” said Alfric. “At least until we’ve had a moment to explain.”
“While my curiosity burns, I suppose that I can make that allowance,” said Priya. She pursed her lips. “Do I need to give you a moment?”
“Not at all,” said Alfric. “I’m ready for you.”
“Second or third time through the day?” asked Priya.
“First,” said Alfric. “But my mother said to expect visitors. We’re no longer technically in your zone, but I did imagine that it would be you, given the League likes to stick with prior professional relationships … and that you’re a more skilled combatant than the other zone overseers.” He stepped to one side to allow her in.
“Buttering me up already, are you?” asked Priya. “You have some inkling of how much trouble you’re in?”
They made their way into the living room. Priya couldn’t resist peeking into the other rooms, and she no doubt saw Quinn, but there was no more than a half step of hesitation before she came to sit down in the living room chair, sword resting against the side of it.
“I actually don’t know how much trouble I’m in,” said Alfric as he took a seat of his own. “When we started having trouble with dungeons, pulling things from them, I sent dozens of letters about what was happening, hoping that someone would have some kind of answer for me. Everyone chalked it up to variance, or just said ‘that is odd’ and didn’t actually help us or give any advice. We weren’t given a path forward, so we tried to make our own path.” He shrugged. “I’ve really tried to keep the League informed, and I’ve stayed within the letter of the law as best I was able to.”
“Technically, you haven’t,” said Priya.
Alfric frowned. “In what way?”
“The woman,” said Priya. “She’s out and about.”
“Er,” said Alfric. “You mean … I’m sorry, I don’t follow. The best practices for bastlefolk are to remove them from the dungeons and place them into the care of someone qualified.”
“She’s not bastlefolk,” said Priya. “She’s human, or so close to human it doesn’t matter. I believe under certain readings of both League guidance and the law, it’s mandatory to keep her sequestered in extradimensional space until you’ve spoken with the beastmaster, especially given that we have to assume she can crossbreed.”
“Crossbreed?” asked Alfric. “That’s ridiculous. She’s a thinking, talking, person. I’m not going to go to a beastmaster for that. And to even talk about a ‘breeding pair’ is —”
“Are you annoyed with me?” asked Priya. Her voice was dry, words crisp.
“Yes,” said Alfric, very simply. “We didn’t intend to do this. We’re trying to make the best of a bad situation. She’s taking it well, but treating her as though she’s a baby, like the bastlefolk, or worse, like an animal, is unacceptable.”
“I’m only saying that it’s a legal gray area,” said Priya. “We don’t have the laws to deal with this, because it’s never happened before. You need to look at this how others are going to look at it, and while I know you a bit, especially through your exhaustive reports to the League, you have essentially no reputation to go on aside from your family name.”
“The demiplane?” asked Alfric.
“Well, yes, the demiplane,” said Priya with a wave of her hand. “But you should be thankful that your role in that was made relatively small. Here, you’ll be dealing with people who are most well-versed in dungeons and the things that come from them. They have different ideas honed by sharpening their swords against each other.”
“Will they understand that this is something entirely new?” asked Alfric.
“Some will,” said Priya. “Others will treat it as happenstance, at least until you do it again. You know there are all sorts of tall tales that come out of dungeons, given that there are only five people who need to agree on a story and usually no evidence of whatever it was they claimed.”
“I know,” said Alfric. “We pulled out a hundred lutes from a dungeon that was much, much larger than it should have been, and most people laughed about it, thinking that it was just an exaggeration.” He sighed. “So we’re in trouble, is what you’re saying? Actual trouble, or the kind of trouble that we can explain our way out of?”
“Knowing you, and your family, it’s trouble that you might be able to talk your way out of,” said Priya. “Stay out of dungeons for the time being though, until this is settled. Most likely there will have to be new rules.”
“‘Most likely’?” asked Alfric. “This was an accident, but I have very little doubt that we could do it again. And if we can do it, that very likely means that other people could too. It would require a rewriting not just of the rules for taking ‘creatures’ from the dungeons, but of dungeoneering as a whole, and Inter’s relationship with it. That’s to say nothing of Tarbin and Kiromo.”
“And you believe that this is something that can spread to others?” asked Priya. She leaned forward and brushed a strand of gray hair from her face. “It’s difficult to believe it wouldn't be a disaster.”
“People would need to be trained on how to handle it,” said Alfric. “There’s no one to do the training, because we don’t have decades of experience and best practices.” He was clenching his hand into a fist, nervous energy flowing through him, and he forced himself to release it. “We would, naturally, like to keep this as quiet as possible for as long as possible.”
“You’ve already told your people,” said Priya. “The chrononauts.”
“I have,” nodded Alfric. “Obviously, because my mother contacted you. And yes, that’s an avenue for word to get out. But as tempting as it was to sit on the secret, you did come in here saying that I was in trouble, and obviously the trouble would be amplified if you found out weeks after the fact.”
“This is true,” said Priya. “I do wish you’d come to me directly. There will be a limited number of people who are allowed in the inner circle, I only wish that so many chrononauts weren’t among their number.”
“We’re raised with an understanding of and obligation to sensitivity with information,” said Alfric, but this was one of those stock lines that nearly tripped coming out of his mouth. His opinion of the other chrononauts wasn’t what it had once been, and when he thought about the specific individuals who were in his guild chat, he did second guess his decision not to keep the circle of trust smaller. “But your objection isn’t that the chrononauts will let the information out, it’s that there’s power in them having this knowledge when no one else does. Right?”
“It’s part of it,” said Priya. “Perhaps your sundry relatives can be trusted, but even if they are, some of them might begin rearranging their relationships with the dungeon bards they know, or might start shifting their financial arrangements. Certainly they’ll work on crafting policy ahead of everyone else, helping their own interests.”
“They might,” said Alfric with a frown. “I don’t necessarily think that’s wrong.”
“I know the values you were raised with,” said Priya. “Self reliance is a watchword, no?”
Alfric gave that some thought before replying. “I can see the contradiction. I’m not immediately sure how to resolve it.”
Priya nodded. “This is neither here nor there. What we need to worry about first and foremost is the woman, and once that matter is settled, we need to worry about what comes next. It’s good that you’re taking this seriously, and family aside, are keeping this close to your chest. It will make everything else much smoother.” She pulled, from within her tight wraps, a small silvered device or entad, a clamshell like a lantern. She frowned at the inside for a moment, then waved a hand over it and returned it to wherever it had come from. “We have an hour before my colleagues show up. I’d like to speak to the woman, if that’s alright with you.”
Alfric nodded and went into the dining room, where a low conversation was ongoing.
“I’m to meet the woman from your version of the Frignungcirice,” said Quinn. She was somewhat pale.
“I’m trying to make sense of this,” said Pinion, who was flipping back and forth through the book with such speed that Alfric wondered how he could possibly be getting anything useful from it. “From what I’ve read here, no, the Frignungcirice is very much not the same. That particular organization is, from a very brief read, ah,” he looked up and around at the faces. “For us, I would say that they’re essentially a Red Ages operation, though that takes some reading between the lines.”
Quinn frowned. “And for me?”
“For you, I would say that our government is just … not like that,” said Pinion. “There is almost no chance that you’ll be imprisoned, let alone interrogated like the book seems to imply or, ah, this thing that gets called ‘education’, which feels like a euphemism.” He looked down at the book then up at her. “This book was supposed to be complete?”
Quinn looked troubled. “The Frignungcirice has some say in what it contains. It’s not a euphemism though, when you say that someone has gone for education, everyone knows what you mean. The same goes for interrogation.”
“Which is … what?” asked Pinion. “With the understanding that the Frignungcirice not only cannot ever reach you here, but arguably never actually existed except in your memories and this book.”
Quinn took a trembling breath. “The Frignungcirice ensure a prosperous society, and the means by which they do that are, sometimes, uncouth. Interrogation means projecting the mind out into the world and looking at its secrets.” She looked at Pinion. “Some of this is in the book. It should be under ‘mingle room’.” Pinion immediately began flipping pages.
“That sounds horrible,” said Verity. “I’m so sorry.”
“They don’t have that here?” asked Quinn, brightening somewhat. “That’s a bit lucky, I think, but I’m worried about what they might have in its place.”
“Nothing like … this,” said Pinion. “This magic is … ah. We don’t have anything like it.” He looked up at her. “Inter does not rule through fear. It doesn’t enforce compliance like this. It’s not in our governance, and certainly not in our culture. You will be protected from anything like this, not just by the law, but by the people.”
Quinn let out a breath. “Well, that is a relief.”
“You thought we were handing you over to some Red Ages interrogators?” asked Isra. “Why would you go along with that?”
“Sometimes they show mercy,” said Quinn. The tension had gone out of her, and her face was regaining some color. “If you run, you have to look over your shoulder, but —” she looked around at the faces around her. “I’m thinking now that you’re just fanatics, which is unfair, I know, but it’s hard to trust that you just have nothing.” She frowned. “How do the courts work, if they can’t use the mingle room?”
“They use what they find in your mind as evidence, where you’re from?” asked Alfric.
Priya had given a polite cough, and when Alfric looked, she was standing near the door. “I’m sure that you’re in a conversation you all find fascinating, but I need to speak with Quinn, please. We have relatively little time until my colleagues are here, and I would like to have everything in order before then so I can advise them.”
“Of course,” said Alfric. “My apologies. Quinn, this is Priya Voyt. She’s one of the zone leads for the Adventurer’s League in Greater Plenarch, and an extremely accomplished dungeoneer, now retired. Priya, this is Quinn.”
“A pleasure, I hope,” said Quinn.
Priya eyed her for a moment, then took one of the empty seats at the table. “I only need to ask you a few questions to see for myself that the things that have been related to me are true and accurate.” She looked around at the party. “For this, I don’t need an audience.”
“I’d like for her to have an advocate,” said Alfric. There was little question that it would be him. “And a translator, given that there are some concepts and organizations that we haven’t had a chance to explain.”
“Very well,” said Priya. “The rest of you, out.”
There were some grumbles, and the rest of the party filtered out of the dining room, with Mizuki making a quick stack of dirty plates and Pinion stealthily stealing the book away. Soon, they were alone, and Priya had her hands folded on the table.
“Hi,” said Quinn.
“Hello,” said Priya. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” said Quinn. “Still reeling, but I have my tent, I didn’t lose my laundoncraft, and I’ve been treated well.” She frowned. “I keep having to amend every thought I have. I think of my mother, and I have to say ‘oh, but she doesn’t exist anymore, never did’. I’m pretending that I’m a visitor from another land, that the world I remember was real, but … I do believe them when they say that it wasn’t.”
“I imagine that must be awful for you,” said Priya.
“It is,” said Quinn. “But … I’ll soldier on, I suppose. I’m more worried for my future than for my past. And that’s what you’re here to talk about, isn’t it?”
“I’ll have input, yes,” said Priya. “My authority rests largely with the dungeons and those who delve them, but since there’s no precedent for what’s happened, we don’t know whose shoulders the decision will ultimately land on. There was a proposal this morning for a committee of three, with myself, the Keeper of Secrets, and the bastlemaster of Greater Plenarch being involved. I don’t know if that will stand, but my recommendation will hold some weight. However, with that said, three people alone can’t make the law, especially if two of them aren’t elected.”
“I have no say in my own fate?” asked Quinn.
“I didn’t mean to imply so,” said Priya. “If you had your say, how would this go?”
Quinn looked at Alfric for a moment, then back at Priya. “I suppose I would never have anyone know that I was from another world, aside from friends and family. I don’t think I would mind practicing laundoncraft in Plenarch, depending on how the city is, with a little shop that I could live above.”
“Laundoncraft is … your ability to make entads?” asked Priya. She looked at Alfric. “Sorry, I don’t think I had enough information about that.”
“They’re not entads,” said Quinn. She slid a small cup across to Priya, the one she’d been using to drink from. “It’s its own sort of magic.”
Priya looked into the cup, which was indeed bigger on the inside. “It’s repeatable and structured,” Priya said. She set the cup back down on the table. “How do you propose that you practice this profession without anyone knowing your origins?”
“I haven’t worked that out,” said Quinn. “But explaining, over and over, that I was pulled from a dungeon, that I have memories from a world that never existed, that I’m perhaps not technically human … the prospect of that doesn’t thrill me, and that’s without actually having experienced it yet.”
“I can understand that,” said Priya. “We’ll attempt to make that work. I think, assuming that a cleric of Qymmos and a druid both check you over and give the all clear, there shouldn’t be anything stopping you from living as a normal citizen of Inter.”
Quinn drew back. “You mean that?”
“Yes,” nodded Priya. She looked at Alfric for a moment. “I don’t know if you were told, but there are bastlefolk, who are treated as full citizens, at least within Inter. Similarly, there are the dwodo, who largely dwell on their moving mountains, and feil, who have their forests. They, too, are free to become citizens of Inter, though very few choose to, and the process is somewhat involved given the understanding that dwodo who come down off their mountain are choosing to remain a part of that community. It’s a complicated issue that I don’t think would apply here.”
“I assume there will be some papers I need to fill out?” asked Quinn.
Priya blinked. “No, I shouldn’t think so.”
“I’ll be free to simply go into the world, not tracked or watched?” asked Quinn, leaning forward slightly.
“I don’t know if they told you,” said Alfric. “But there’s a censusmaster in every hex, and they have information on everyone who resides there. Similarly, every province has a census overmaster, and the nation itself has the census endmaster. I guess I’ve been assuming that you’d show up there, but it might be something that we want to confirm for certain.”
“They just … record me?” asked Quinn.
“There’s no record unless they work hard to make one,” said Alfric. “Some of them do, but you’ll be there when they use their view of the hex. Nothing too private, just information that people could guess by looking at you pass by on the street.”
“Oh,” said Quinn. “I suppose that makes sense.” She scratched her arm. “It’s so odd what you people take for granted.”
“I wish we had a primer for you to read about this world,” said Alfric. “I’m sure there are things we’ve simply glossed over because it never occurred to us that it would be different for you.”
“It’s a difficult transition,” said Priya. “I hope that we can make it easier for you. The problem we have, I think, is not that you were pulled from a dungeon, it’s that others might now be pulled from dungeons too. But as far as discussions go, that’s not one that needs to involve you. Whatever we decide about the fate of the —” she turned to Alfric, “— do you have a name?”
“Bastlefolk, I guess,” said Alfric.
“There will need to be another word, in time,” said Priya. She turned back to Quinn. “But whatever we ultimately decide, I don’t think it will have an impact on you. Now, while there’s some time remaining, I’d like to ask you a series of questions, in part to test the boundaries, if any, of your personality and memories.”
“I would be fine with that,” said Quinn. “Ask away.”
What followed was a more comprehensive set of questions than the party had asked Quinn, in part because the format was so stilted. Priya had produced a pen and a bound notebook from within her wraps and as writing speedily, using a shorthand that turned a sentence or two into a few pen strokes. Some of what she asked was simply vital information, while other questions were about her tastes and experiences. Quinn endured it, not seeming to give too much thought to most of them, and paused only occasionally, usually when there was something she didn’t quite understand. There didn’t seem to be much direction to the questioning, and the topic would sometimes switch quickly from Quinn’s family to her favorite foods.
Quinn didn’t seem to have a problem being candid, perhaps because she was aware that it was all a figment. She seemed to draw the line at talking about past partners, which she answered with a simple ‘I’m not comfortable with that line of questioning’, but Priya dropped it instantly and didn’t return to it.
They were eventually interrupted by a knock at the door, and Priya folded her notebook closed. “I believe that will be my colleagues, who took a less direct route. Alfric, if you could?”
When Alfric opened the door, he found two people standing behind it, one of them a gray-haired man who was wheezing slightly, the other a younger woman who was looking very prim, the collar of her cloak quite nicely pointed.
“Is Priya here?” asked the woman.
“You’re the Keeper of Secrets and the bastlemaster?” asked Alfric. He didn’t know which was which. “Come in, they’re in the dining room.”
“Such ghastly way to travel,” said the man. He had spectacles, which he’d taken off and was wiping with the inside of his shirt. “Gods it stinks.”
“Don’t mind him,” said the woman.
The air did smell faintly of sulfur, perhaps a side effect of their travel, but it wasn’t as overpowering as the man seemed to suggest. If they had traveled quickly from Plenarch, covering miles in moments, it must have been by entad, and there were all kinds of side effects those had, along with different sensations.
They came into the dining room and sat down, then went around for introductions. The woman was Jenny Lenx, the new Keeper of Secrets, curly hair tied back in a bun. She was in her thirties, Alfric thought, young for what was a prestigious position, and probably not a dragon. There was something Chelxic in her complexion, but it might just have been time in the sun. The man was Nigel Festring, a slightly pudgy man and the bastlemaster for all of Plenarch. He had been doing the job for twenty years, which was a long time for an elected official, and while the first impression had been one of a doddering old man, once he began talking it was clear that he came with a wealth of experience, knowledge, and opinions.
Some of the conversation was simply repeated from earlier, questions about Quinn’s history, confirmation that she was who they’d been told she was. Alfric paid attention, but he wasn’t engaged with it. He didn’t want Quinn to have to endure these conversations too many times, but worried that this was just the start of things. Priya was right that these three people couldn’t make new laws on their own, and while it seemed easy enough to fold Quinn into existing arrangements, there was the larger question.
“It really ought not be possible,” said Nigel. “The dungeons have never given us anything like this before, and people have run millions of dungeons, hundreds of millions. Dungeon madness was considered a universal truth.” He looked at Alfric. “And this is a technique, not just random chance?”
“Yes,” said Alfric. “We believe it to be repeatable, at least by us. We obviously won’t be saying how. It’s also possible that it’s repeatable by others, though we have no way to test that yet. For what it’s worth, we weren’t trying to pull a person from the dungeon, we were trying to get entads with certain qualities to them. We just happened to miss the mark and get someone who could create something like entads.”
“That’s quite a bit worse,” said Nigel. “People coming from dungeons would be one thing — not a bad thing necessarily, just a complicated thing — but if the dungeons can reliably — or unreliably — create people while in the pursuit of other things then I suspect we’re not far off from having a great many people pulled from the dungeons.”
“That would be a bad thing?” asked Quinn.
They stopped and looked at her. “In some circumstances, no,” said Jenny. “There are different lenses through which to view people like you, and one might be as refugees. For most of its existence, Inter has welcomed those who have escaped from harsh environments with only the clothes on their back. The policy on immigration has paid obvious dividends over the years. But depending on what scale dungeon immigration happens at, it might start to put some strain on the systems we have in place.”
“It’s also going to come with things like laundoncraft,” said Alfric. “We already have entads for food, they just depend on random luck for a dungeon to generate them. If the method can be taught, it’s a revolutionary change in how dungeons are run. That would have its own revolutionary impacts on every single industry.”
“This,” said Priya. “This is the place where I think my role as an elder dungeoneer is to say that these things come and go, that the dungeons spit out strange things sometimes, and that you haven’t actually proven repeatability and consistency. Yet at this point, I think the balance of evidence is such that I must accept that you might be right. At any rate, it won’t hurt to prepare for such an eventuality. So long as we’re not burning through any budgets, it’s fine to think through what this would look like at scale.” She looked at the others. “That would be a private conversation for later though.”
“And myself?” asked Quinn. “I’m just … free to go? Free to practice my craft?”
“Technically,” said Nigel, coughing into his hand. “Technically we should look you over first, in a formal capacity.”
Quinn looked between them. “I was told a druid and a cleric of Qymmos?” She looked over at the door to the living room. “But we already have our own druid.”
Nigel raised a hand. “I am, in fact a druid.”
Jenny raised her own hand. “And I’m a cleric of Qymmos — though my preaching days are far behind me.”
“Oh,” said Quinn. “Then … you can tell things about me? Just from looking?”
“Easier with a touch, I’ve always found,” said Nigel. He was cleaning his spectacle again. “Just on the hand, nothing invasive. And I’ve never done diagnostics on a person before, in all my time.”
“Similarly, some consent would be necessary for ethical insights,” said Jenny. “There’s much I could tell just by looking at you, but a cleric of Qymmos restricts their reach unless told they can probe further.”
Quinn looked at Alfric. “They can’t read my mind?”
Alfric smiled. “No. If they could, I would keep them away from you.”
Quinn held her hand out for one, then the other. Jenny looked into her eyes as she did the reading, while Nigel sat with his head bowed, one finger tapping on the back of her hand.
“Jenny, would you prefer to go first?” asked Nigel.
“She’s human enough to qualify for entads,” said Jenny. “But the entad definitions aren’t entirely accepted as being ‘true’ definitions by those who follow Qymmos.” She frowned. “Internally, she has an extra stomach, and one fewer chamber to her heart. I’m not sure what that would mean, exactly, and will defer to Nigel about that, but my recommendation would be to limit physical activity, or at least slow it.”
“Your hearts have four chambers?” asked Quinn. “How does that work?”
“We have two ventricles and two atria,” said Jenny. “Your single ventricle has a slight division in it.” She shrugged. “It’s been some time since I’ve done medical work, but there’s a small chance that it’ll cause problems for you.”
“I’ll be honest, I didn’t understand most of that,” said Quinn. “But I’m not … sick?”
“No,” said Jenny. She looked at Nigel with a raised eyebrow.
“No,” said Nigel. “Sorry to put it in a beast’s terms, but your diet should have more leafy greens and a bit less meat, you’ll need to be exercised with some regularity, and an expansive home with a place for activities and stimulation.” He smiled at her. “I suspect you can see to your own needs.”
“Can I,” said Quinn, before pausing. She lowered her voice somewhat. “Do you imagine that I could bear a child?”
Nigel cleared his throat. “That’s very difficult to say, given that your partner would have some biological differences. There might be complications, especially with the heart.” He pointed to his chest. “But that’s beyond what even a druid and a cleric of Qymmos working together can determine.”
“I see,” said Quinn. She nodded. “I suppose that’s a question for the future.”
“There are prognostic entads,” said Alfric. “If that’s important to you. And there are options other than hybridization, which would also be assisted through entads.”
Quinn waved a hand. “I had just wondered. It’s unimportant.”
Alfric kept quiet. It didn’t seem to him that she’d have asked if she felt it was unimportant. He supposed that he would like to know, if he were sterile.
“I think we can be finished for today,” said Priya. “We need to speak in terms of laws, and expanding the circle of knowledge, but this is a discussion that doesn’t need to happen here, in this house.” She looked at Quinn. “You have my word that I will do everything in my power to keep your identity safe, and to ensure your fair and equitable treatment under the law. In due time, I imagine we’ll have something of a budget to deal with people like yourself, funds to get you settled, but in the meantime, I’d like to offer a donation to your settlement.”
“A … donation?” asked Quinn.
“Enough to get you on your feet,” Priya explained. She reached into her wraps and pulled out a pouch, which she slid across to Quinn. It clinked with the weight of thousands of rings, many pounds of metals.
“Thank you,” said Quinn, taking the pouch reluctantly. “I don’t know what to say.”
“If the Settlers haven’t offered it to you already, welcome to our world,” said Priya.
Quinn gave her a small nod.
“And you,” said Priya, turning to Alfric. “Are hereby banned from stepping foot in a dungeon until the legal issues have been worked out. That goes for everyone else in your party as well. Until we’re ready, the method by which you’ve done this is a state secret, known only by those at the highest levels. I’ve already had your mother compose a message to your guild on the subject. Even those who know won’t know the details, which you aren’t to share with anyone. Speculation will be shot down.”
“We’re dungeoneers though,” said Alfric. He’d been worried about this from the start. “That’s — I mean how long is this going to take?”
“I would guess that months,” said Priya. “There’s no pressing need for new laws, not unless other people know this technique, and the technique might not be replicable, for all we know.”
Alfric felt his heart sink. “This is what we do though.”
“You’ve been taking a sedate pace for your dungeons,” said Priya. “This will slow you down, but you can wait — under penalty of law.”
“You said yourself that we’d done nothing illegal,” said Alfric. His cheeks felt flushed.
“You can get in trouble for breaking the law,” said Priya. “You can get in more trouble for breaking things that aren’t laws yet. It’s an entirely different magnitude of crime. But of course, I wouldn’t even say that you’re in trouble, because this is the only consequence. It’s nothing too dire.”
“With respect,” said Alfric. “We understand to some extent how and why this is happening, and we can ensure that no more people are created by the dungeons.” Verity could sit out, for example. “You’d effectively be putting an end to important research and penalizing us for something that we can just … not do. We can do the dungeons without this.”
“No,” said Priya. “You cannot pull a person from the dungeons and then blithely continue on with your independent ‘experiments’, not so long as there is even a small risk that you could bring more people through, and not so long as there exist no laws in place to handle such people. When the dust has settled, I imagine that you’ll be able to try again, but it will be under the watchful eye of the League and democratic processes that decide on the moral and ethical ramifications.” She peered at him with hard eyes. It was the way his mother used to peer at him when trying to determine whether he’d done anything wrong.
“Understood,” said Alfric, voice tight.
“Good,” said Priya. “I’ve always enjoyed your dungeon reports, and I trust you well enough not to ask for your keys back.” She sat back in her chair. “For the time being, I ask that you help Quinn get wherever she wants to go, and to the extent you’re able, help her settle. I can’t guarantee that you’ll ever be allowed to do another dungeon again, but I’ll try.”
“Alright,” said Alfric.
“Quinn, I’ll speak with you later,” said Priya. “I have an office in Plenarch.” She rattled off an address. “You can also get in touch with me through the League offices if there’s anything you need. My hope is to keep you from having to speak to anyone else from the government, but it’s possible that some of them will take convincing, and hearing you talk is the best way for that convincing to get done — it’s what erased any doubts from my mind.”
“Okay,” said Quinn. She had her hands folded in front of her.
“And with that, we take our leave and get to the hard work of governance,” said Priya. She looked at the other two. “Yes?”
They nodded agreement and said their goodbyes, and soon swept out of the house, leaving Alfric alone, feeling a little broken.
“I take it that didn’t go well?” asked Mizuki.
“No,” said Alfric.
“I actually listened in on the whole thing, sound carries pretty well between the rooms if you’re being quiet,” said Mizuki. She patted him on the back. “Sorry about the dungeons.”
“I don’t know what we’re going to do,” said Alfric. “This person creation thing was a setback, nothing more. We could have figured it out. But we’re not going to figure it out if we don’t get into the dungeons.”
“I know,” said Mizuki. She kissed him on the shoulder. “We could go into the dungeons anyway. They’d never know.”
“I’m really not going to do that,” said Alfric.
“Yeah, I know,” said Mizuki. “And the house is going to be in Plenarch like … tomorrow.”
“Not quite,” said Alfric.
“I meant it more as … what are you going to do with yourself? Especially since your awesome girlfriend is going to be in wizard school.” She was giving him a pitying look.
“I’ll figure something out,” said Alfric.
“Sorry,” said Quinn. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”
“Not a private conversation,” said Alfric with a shrug.
“I really do think that I could teach you laundoncraft,” she said. “If you have time on your hands, why not?”
Alfric regarded her for a moment. “I don’t expect that it will work,” said Alfric. “But I do have a lot more time on my hands, and I suppose it’s worth trying.”
Comments
Kyle
Agreed! I think we are starting to see the shape the characters' future lives will take, once the story is concluded.
Jdosnoen
My favorite part is when Alfric said this used to be about dungeons and then started throwing dung for eons
Gábor Kozár
Feels like the start of the final chapters of this story!
