I Hate Dungeon School

I took the drink that Witty offered me. I sniffed it. It smelled like coffee. Kind of. Like the memory of coffee. I gave it a test sip. The taste was almost like it, but not quite.

"Is drink made of grain. Keep for guests. Not poison us by accident, though." He explained.

"An attempt to ingratiate us to you, outsiders. Pfah! Foolishness." Auntie was at the table, still sitting in the same seat, as if she hadn't moved from the spot the entire evening.

Witty woofed something at the elderly kobold and turned back to the meal he was cooking, which smelled heavenly. The others sipped at their drinks and chit-chatted amongst themselves about one thing or another.

Meanwhile, the elderly kobold, simply called Auntie the best I could tell, just stared right at me, and I locked eyes with her in return.

We sat there, each of us sipping our brews in a tense silence before she leaned forward.

"I know what you are, elf. I smell it on you. These pups do not know, but I smell the dungeon stink on you." She growled lowly at me.

I resisted the urge to cough, spraying the drink all over.

"What?" I managed to say, after getting the scaling liquid down my throat.

"The dungeons stink. I smell it. I don't know what you are to have such stink. You do not look like monster, don't smell like one either, but you stink of the dungeon. I hate Mortals. I hate elves especially. And a dungeon stink elf most of all." She jabbed a paw in my direction with each word to emphasize her point.

Could Kobolds smell mana? Especially the strange mana that sat inside me?

"Have you smelled this on a person like me before? Please, I need to know. I've been, I guess, cursed for lack of a better term." I learned towards her.

Her ears perked up.

"Curse you say?" She stared at me for a long moment. Her ears twitched this way and that, her tail slapping the floor a few times before looking around at the others. "Smitty! Borrowing your...friend."

She said that last part with thick sarcasm.

"Auntie do not be mean to friend Alta. Is Auntie being mean to friend Alta?" She looked at me, concern showing in her face and the slight tilt to her ears.

"I'm fine, Smitty, thank you! Auntie just wants to show me something." I said trying to reassure her.

"If Auntie does something bad, make noise, yes yes!" She said and shot Auntie a look that I only could interpret as some form of warning.

Auntie barked something at her, and motioned for me to follow her. She led me to a small room that looked something like a pantry. She creakily bent over and opened a hatch in the floor. She pointed down, and I saw a ladder.

"You go first. I do not trust elf." She huffed at me.

I sincerely hoped this wasn't some kind of trap, but if it was, I'm pretty sure I could handle it. Not the best way to start a morning. Especially not after having nothing but a non-coffee for breakfast.

I obliged her and climbed down the lady into the, thankfully, lit basement area. It was a simple thing, walls carved from dirt and stone, roots sticking out in a few spots. Lining the walls were shelves with some kind of preserved food in jars. There was a lot of it too.

Kobolds like to be prepared, it seemed.

As I scanned the room, I noticed a large chest in one corner. It was ornate, much more ornate than any of the craftsmanship I had seen so far in the village.

"From my youthful days," Auntie said as she hopped off the last rung of the ladder, as if sensing the forming question in my head. "Was not always old. Smitty not the first adventurer from this village."

"Is that were you learned to speak Mortal Common so well? You speak it much better than others." I noted, turning to face her.

"Yes. I also had a mage give me a gift. It is a long dark story, and you have little time, cursed elf. To satisfy your mind, I was a sword-slave." Her ears flattened as she said it.

Sword-slavery was a dark part of Burgotovan history, where our people bought and sold slaves to be soldiers for nobles, but only for those races not considered part of the Mortal Races. The practice had been banned for over a century at this point, as the races considered Mortal grew. Auntie was venerable indeed.

My heart ached to think of the horrors she had been put through in her time.

"I'm very sorry," I muttered. I couldn't think of what else to say. I knew my family had been guilty of this. Every noble house in Burgotova was guilty, but mine was especially so. Sword-slavery was how they made much of their fortunes after the unification war. I tried not to think about it, but I was ashamed of my family for this. Many other reasons, but that is especially.

"It is an old hurt. Before your birth. Sins of the parents should not stain the young, but they do. I cannot stop my hate of your kind. You are Marchesi, Smitty has said so. A hated name." I could tell she was holding back an old and deep anger.

"Yes. I cannot apologize enough for-" She held up a paw and cut me off.

"It is not your place to apologize. Your blood and your name do not smell the same. Your sins stand apart from theirs." She said before turning back to the chest.

I stared at her blankly, not entirely sure of what I heard, but I decided that now was not the time to dig into that further.

"Sooooo what is it you wanted to show me?" I decided a change of topic was the best play right now.

"You said you have curse. You stink of dungeon. Only one curse like that, yes yes. You found a baby core, yes? Baby core soon to die, yes?" She looked over her shoulder at me.

"Yes! You've run into this before?" I asked. It boggled my mind that my teachers, who had never heard of such a thing except in deep archives, but this elderly kobold in the deep forest, halfway up a mountain, had encountered this exact situation.

"Worked with, what is word, dungeon research man. He developed this problem. I not understand how it works, but since you are connected to baby core, you must be careful." She let out a small woof as she found whatever it was she was digging around for. She held up a small amulet and showed it to me.

"If core binds to ruin, and you are too close, you will be trapped. Become, how you say, boss monster. Whatever monster is closest when dungeon binds becomes boss. The dungeon stink will break you, remake you, into something it wants. Your souls are connected, so even if you run, you will be doomed." She explained. I think she looked at me with pity, but I wasn't entirely sure I was reading her body language correctly.

This was a lot to take in. How had no one recorded this before? Was it a secret? Did no one who survived know what happened? How did Auntie know?

"And you saw this happen?" I asked.

"It is why I am free. The dungeon devoured him, and his spells of control. The dungeon core cracked after, the dungeon never being fully born. I stay here; other Kobolds enslaved by him stay. That is the birth of this village." She held up a familiar-looking sphere with a deep crack in it.

"It cracked and didn't turn into a Chaos Dragon?" I was astounded. How much did we not know about dungeons? Were my teachers and Calderon and Danica just guessing all this time? No. They couldn't. But it made me wonder how much information had been lost due to accidents, improper records, and such things.

"It did not. I know not why. Take this talisman, cursed elf." She handed it to me. It was an interesting thing. What I had thought was an amulet was a combination of an ancient coin, a crystal, a bit of bone, and a feather.

"What does it do?" I asked, as I put it on. It looked rather fetching I had to admit, even if it wasn't my usual fashion taste.

"Keeps soul safe. It will remind your soul where it belongs when dungeon tries to steal it." She shrugged.

"How does it do that?" I was fascinated. I had never heard of such magic.

"Pfah! Elves! Mortals! You all need reasons for magic. Just trust in the magic. The spirits of the mountain are on the side of Kobolds, and our ways work because of it! Trust!" She jabbed me in the chest with a paw.

I felt I had no choice in the matter.

"I shall. Thank you, Auntie!" I resisted the urge to hug her.

"Do not thank. I do this for Smitty. You are her friend, and she would be sad. I do not want my old friend's daughter to feel sadness. I do not trust you, elf. I do not trust any but Kobolds. But for Smitty's sake I shall do what I can. Speak nothing of this to her." She growled at me to emphasize the point.

"You have my word." I reassured her.

"Words of Marchesi elf worthless to me. Your blood smell does not match name smell though. I will take your word, for what little it is worth. Now go, eat food. You need strength to keep Smitty safe. If she is not safe, I will chase you into the hells and tear out your throat for eternities." She then sniffed the air. "Ooh! Bacon!"

She then shooed me back up the ladder as she stuffed trinkets back into the chest.

Auntie was a strange Kobold, but her gesture was strangely touching. I would do my best to keep her threat from becoming reality.