I Hate Dungeon School

The week passed by as it usually did, the same repetition of classwork, simulator training, exercises both physical and magical. Study, workout, rinse, and repeat. Finally, however, it was the weekend.

For most, a reprieve from academics and two days of relaxation and recovery. That was not a luxury I allowed myself, for I had a secondary job. I was a waitress at a maid-themed café in the Petals District. A lovely little place called Atelier du Maiden. While it was situated in a less-than-reputable part of town, the business didn't ask anything illegal or debauched of us. We dressed in outfits and we served food and drinks, letting customers live out the fantasy of being waited on hand and foot.

Needless to say, it was far from the actual experience, but people paid to live a dream, and to that end, I was more than happy to help liberate them of their money.

While I had made a decent amount of money from the duel, which I admittedly bullied out of Togalli's purse, an act which I didn't feel even the slightest remorse for, it wouldn't last for ever, and I wanted to build up enough funds to live as independently as possible after graduation. The patrons were generous and not too lecherous, so it worked out for me.

I had developed a resistance to the embarrassment of the short skirt and generous décolletage of the outfit, and after the incident that got me somewhat of a reputation in the district, no one lay on hand on me they didn't mind losing. A few broken fingers saw to that.

I waved to familiar faces as I walked through the district, shrouded in a thick winter fog, a fresh layer of fallen snow crunching beneath my winter boots, thankful for the winter cloak I had saved up for. It was my favorite color, a lovely blue, that made my hair stand out even more. I won't deny I have a streak of vanity about it.

Nothing was properly open quite yet, as the Petals District was very much a place for the nightlife. During the night, it was loud, boisterous, and chaotic, but in a way that felt more like a party than a riot. Sure, fights broke out, but the guard was usually on top of things. The Guard Captain, a stern woman named Vesht, kept things in line. Formerly a worker in this area, she made it her mission to protect those of us who worked here, no matter what exactly we did.

I eventually found my way to the staff door and entered, welcomed by the sounds of the girls I called my coworkers.

-

It had been a straightforward evening, not as terribly busy as it could have been, but good enough that my coin purse was heavier with the weight of welcome coinage. It was also nice to have made it through the night without being flirted with too often. The incident that eventually led to the duel gave me a bit of a reputation as a girl with a temper, and while that was attractive to some, they knew better than to test me, and found leaning into the grumpy maid suited the tastes of our regulars.

Giving my coin purse another heft, I realized I could likely invite the girls out for drinks. Hopefully, this time we wouldn't be waking up at a random in again in a big old pile again. It wasn't a bad experience aside from some awkwardness and some shame at our behavior the night before.

The thought made me miss the Jeweler's Bower again. I then realized that it wasn't that far of a walk. Why not enjoy my good mood and be a little spontaneous tonight? I didn't have plans for tomorrow, so it didn't seem like that bad of an idea.

I made my way down the street, through the thinning crowds of happy drunks, smiling and blushing at the subject matter of some of the bawdy drinking songs that floated through the air. I was pleasantly tired and was looking forward to getting back to my dorm room and getting to sleep.

As I left the district, I pulled my cloak tighter against the deepening nighttime chill and walked toward the Jeweler's Bower.

It was a plain inn from the outside, unassuming, no different from myriad others that dotted Revenstahd and the surrounding countryside. It was the inside that counted, and the memories of the sadly short stay there kept me company when sad thoughts threatened to creep into my mind. I traded cleaning services for food and a bed until I could get into Dungeon School, became friends with the innkeeper and her son, and was saddened when I left.

I had decided to focus on my career as a dungeoneer, and if I had stayed, I just knew I would have found excuses to continue there. Try as I might, I couldn't imagine myself spending the rest of my days working at an inn. Warm feelings aside, I had my ambitions, and I was certain chasing those would be better than any other possible future here.

As I approached, I noticed they had finally fixed the streetlamp that my cohorts had drunkenly destroyed during the autumn season. It was amusing in retrospect, but at the time, the entire incident had been massively embarrassing. Thankfully, the rumormongers at the school hadn't figured out the culprits there.

I could just see Manya, the owner, through the window. The stout, lively woman noticed me too under the street light, and with a beaming smile, she waved me in.

How could I refuse an offer like that? I smiled and quickly entered, the warmth and smells filling my soul with delight. Manya scooped me up in a tight embrace, nearly lifting me off my feet. I had forgotten how strong she was. She finally released me when I let out a squeak.

She set me down and patted my shoulders warmly.

"Sit, sit! You haven't been by for an age, girl! Get your winter stuff off, warm yerself by the fire, and I'll get you some food! You're just getting off work from that fancy britches cafe, I imagine! How you can stand working there, I'll never know." She tutted as she scurried about in her kitchen.

I did as she said, letting the roaring fireplace warm my frozen body. Even with the cloak and all my other winter things, nothing really kept me truly warm in the harsh Revenstahd winters.

She brought me a delightful helping of stew, which I was beginning to learn was just the staple food of Revenstahd in the winter months. There was likely some reason for it, but I didn't really care enough to look into it. In any case, it smelled heavenly, and I dug in.

After I devoured the offered bowl, I realized I was hungrier than I thought. I asked for another, and while she delightedly fetched me one, I looked around and noticed it was just her. No boarders, and no Markus.

"It's a bit quiet tonight, isn't it?" I asked, suddenly very aware of the quiet.

"Aye 'tis I have ta admit. Markus is out courting, despite the chill, so honestly I'm not expecting him back tonight, if'n you get my meaning." She winked at me, and I couldn't help but smile. Good for him.

"Isn't winter usually a good time for boarders, though? Not much call for mercenaries and adventurers this time of year, so they tend to stay put. And I couldn't think of a better place to stay put than right here, if you don't mind my saying so, ma'am." I meant it, too. Jeweler's Bower was the best inn I had ever stayed at, and as far as I was concerned, Manya was a living saint.

Manya sat down with a weary sigh. "Aye, tis true. Normally, this would be the time of year for steady business with long-term boarders, but something is going on up north. The dungeon boom down south near that train thingy hasn't helped either. Haven't heard details, but almost all my regulars amongst the fighting folk packed up and left town. That and there have been a few issues causing concerns amongst the locals in the neighborhood."

"Issues?" I asked, my spoon clacking against the empty bowl, my second helping devoured as speedily as the first. Her stew was so good!

"Aye. There's been some unusual problems lately, and-" She stopped and looked me up and down for a moment with a sudden, thoughtful frown. She leaned towards me conspiratorially. "Alta, you trust me, yeah?"

"Of course I do!" I said before, leaning in as well. "What's going on?"

"You know Mrs. Jarlsen across the street? Rumor has it her basement has turned into a dungeon. A literal dungeon, can you believe it!" She scoffed.

I searched my brain for some kind of precedent. Dungeons didn't often occur in populated areas, but it wasn't unknown. Prime evidence being the Corridor Dungeons in the school. It usually only happens in abandoned buildings or in places that have been left uncleaned for a long time. Something about dirt and darkness.

"That's really odd, though. Mrs. Jarlsen keeps a tidy shop, so I have no idea why one would form in her basement. What does that have to do with your lack of boarders, though?" I asked. I wasn't putting the correlation together in my mind.

"You know how it goes. Rumors filter through the vines: they say she has a cult in the basement, she's hiding dead bodies, or she secretly stores everything in filth. Others are worried the dungeon will expand and cause monsters to start showing up once it swallows other basements. We've all been trying to keep it hush-hush, but, well-" She shrugged sadly.

"She hasn't hired anyone to deal with it?" I asked quizzically. Surely someone could deal with it.

"Can't afford it. With the fighting folks leaving, either north or south, and those that stay behind are too expensive for us common folk. The city won't help until it becomes a big enough problem, and we're just not important enough, not like the Petals District and all them fancier type businesses. Not 'critical to the economy,' they said." She clicked her tongue with disgust.

Typical. Even Revenstahd, which was kinder to its citizenry than most other nations and city-states of the Mortal Kingdoms, was still fraught with this sort of derision towards the so-called lower classes. They wouldn't lift a finger to truly help until things got desperate, hoping the problem would sort itself out. But with the mysterious happenings draining the talent pool, it wasn't likely to do so.

It was such a shame, and without a proper dungeoneering certification, which was over a year away from being attainable, I wasn't sure I could do anything.

I couldn't do anything, legally that is. A wicked thought crept into my brain. A wicked and risky thought.

As much as money meant the world to me right now, positive word of mouth would mean just as much in the future. If I played my cards right, this could prove to be a delightful boon to my post-graduation dungeoneering prospects.

The balancing act was doing it and getting away with it, because dungeoneering without a license was technically speaking a crime. Oh, but there were loopholes. There were always loopholes.

It took all my willpower to keep a wicked grin off my face.

"I think I have a solution, Manya. Let me talk to some friends, and I'll be back tomorrow to let you know. Don't tell Mrs. Jarlsen yet, I don't want to get the poor woman's hopes up." I said, pulling my winter clothes back on. I had to tell the girls about this before they went to sleep, or in Myth's case, got stoned insensate.

"I think I know what yer thinking, and I want it on record I don't approve," She winked at me with a big smile. "Just ain't none of my business, donchaknow."

I winked back at her and opened the door, wincing at the sudden burst of cold air against my face. I gave her a friendly wave and shut the door behind me.

I dashed into the wintry night, my head swimming with ideas. I giggled with delight as the idea crystallized further in my head.