(Lyra POV)

“So Virgil, it’s almost time” I tap a thick sheaf of paper on my desk, straightening them out before placing it in the finished tray.

“Yep. Seems like it was only yesterday we set up shop...” Lazily went my silver-haired assistant who was lounging on the couch.

“Can it! You’re making me feel old just by association.” Honestly! Any chance he gets, he spends it bumming around on my couch! That I bought with my own money, not one provided by the A.A.

Lackadaisical and prone to indulging his own whimsy, yet strangely mature when the occasion calls for it. He’s practically an old man.

Even though I’m older than him.

“Don’t you feel it too, with everything that’s happened? It has only been a month, but it’s been feeling a lot more like a year.” He snuggles even deeper into my couch.

“Well, I won’t deny that... Hahhhh. Well, in any case, hows the voting demographic looking like?”

“Right. Early polling results have shown an almost fifty/fifty split between you and Bargas. You have half the registered adventurers, the construction workers, and the mixed population on your side. It’s not entirely accurate, but it is a good indication.

I gotta say, your change in attitude really helped you pull in adventurer votes. They don’t just see you as the big faceless scary lady behind the chair anymore.”

It was true, I find myself out of the office regularly these days. Showing my face around town, inspecting the shops and stalls, making sure the adventurers are doing okay.

Though It still irks me every now and then whenever a small problem pops up. Whether that be some adventurers getting into a mishap or the staff mixing up files or a merchant setting up their stall on the wrong side of town.

Nope, don’t go regressing back now.

Were they all preventable? Yes. Were they worth the effort to prevent? No. It’s actually more convenient to fix these types of problems when they happen. What was the saying again?

Don’t fear the shadow of failure, no, no. I think it was, don’t fear the shadow of shame, for it disappears as quickly as it came.

It’s a saying I heard recently. A more elegant way of conveying my teacher’s words. It’s a lot more meaningful than ‘Whatever happens, happens, so don’t worry ya panties about it.’ Usually, this nugget of wisdom proceeded him offering to treat me to some booze or food.

That’s how my campaign’s been going anyways. Helping solve the tiny problems in people’s lives, making myself known and automatically getting the support of everyone who has mixed parentage.

“As for Bargas, he has the support of the townspeople, merchants, and the other half of the adventurer populous.” Virgil cut in finishing the report, his voice echoing from between my couch cushions.

I have to say, Bargas is different from the reports I read. Aside from his cold hatred of mixed-bloods, he has been exceptionally charitable to everyone else. During the rough period when the dungeon was closed, he financially supported many of our residents.

For the merchants, he frequented their stores buying all sorts of provisions and tools. It was a two-fold deal, he got to stock up on supplies and earn the merchant’s gratitude. The townsfolk, those looking to settle down here, he more or less to the best of his authority created jobs for them.

Which leads into the other reason why he was called here in the first place, his ability as an herbalist. He is to purify the land of blood and any lingering... bad stuff from the war. To those ends, he has been offering jobs to anybody willing, things like grinding up herbs or fetching supplies.

He even used his guilds connection to pull in some extra requests for the one’s most affected from the shutdown, the adventurers.

“Hahh, he might have the advantage if you really add everything together in the end.”

“Theoretically yes, but we’re not here to disclose theoreticals. We only announce pure data, and the polling says fifty/fifty.” He does make a good point.

“Well, I guess that’s it. Get the criers moving...” I lazily glance over at the silver-haired wonder, half-man, half-couch. “Hard to believe this is the same crying boy that I found all those years ago.”

“Phhhhffttt, I wasn’t crying, I was sulking two completely different things, and it was a phase!” That really got him going. Not wanting to hear about his awkward years, Virgil peeled himself off my couch and bolted out the door.

“Still the same lad. No matter how old he gets.”

(Curator POV)

“Gweh!”

“What do you mean, you want to unionize!?” The one pitching me this idea was a very energetic arm flailing boggart. Devoid of any notable traits that differentiated him from others of his kind. My only guess was that this one drew the short straw and ended up the figurehead.

“Gweh~”

“You want to form this union to raise the living standards of boggarts and bogey beasts everywhere?”

A confirmatory squeak came from the little Boggart.

“Wait, hold up! Where did you even learn to unionize in the first place?”

“Gweh. Gweh! Gweh.” Transforming into a poor imitation of what I’m pretty sure is Fredrica. It mimicked her conversing with Zhenya, played by another boggart who was doing an equally poor job.

“You overheard them talking about it one time. Right, so why now of all times, I thought you guys were fairly well adjusted living here.

“Gweh. Gweh. Gweh.”

“There’s not even a marsh much less mud in sight? Only really dry holes you have to dig yourselves?

Alright, I’ll give you that, but to be fair, you guys never brought this up until now.” They must have somehow sensed all the water on the first floor. Nah, it must have been those first-floor fairies or the wolves.

“Gweh!”

“Everyone else is getting their own place?” The Boggart gives me a nod. “Well, Big Bad was a given. Come on, even you would agree that eating rotten meat is not great. Despite us not needing to quote on quote eat.” Another nod followed by a prodding ‘Gweh’. “And the ember wolves den, but they do need that to live.”

Not quite done calling me out, he once again brings up another example. “Alright and the fairies kingd- hold up. I knew it! I fricken knew it! The fairies did found their own kingdom somewhere in the dungeon. VALIDATION!”

“Gweh.”

“Wait, two? They made another one!? When did this happen?” The little bugger gives me a shrug, tilting its oversized head while doing so. It was adorable in a weird way, but that did little to quell my disappointment. “You can’t divulge that information to me due to the Pinky-Swear accord passed one M.O.E (Month(s) Of Existing) ago?”

An affirmatory sound. Well, you’re no help. They’re keeping the location under wraps, maybe I can keep up with their illusions now that I have the DP eye- ‘Gweh.’ I could, no, no, that won’t work- *mumble* Oh I could shape the DP and disguise it- ‘Gweh!!’ yes, excellent-

“GWEH!!!”

“Hai, yes! My bad it’s just, I have been looking for their kingdom for so long trying to confirm its existence...” The bobbled headed Boggart simply gives me a sharp unconvinced glare and an even sharper remark. “Right, I’m sorry I won’t try to excuse my way out of this one.”

But the little guy wasn’t about to let it go that easily, giving me an earful. “Ah okay, I did neglect Grandma and the Huntsman too.” I don’t know if it’s intentional or not, but this guy is really making a point for the creation of this union. He’s even going so far as to advocate for others, not just boggarts and Bog beasts.

Wait, Grandma, the Huntsman and... yeah, I think that could work. Ideas start forming in my core for the theme of the third floor. “Now that you bring them up, I may have some additional roles they can play in the upcoming floor.”

Letting out a victorious huff, the Boggart already knew he won me over. “Yeah, you win.” But he stayed, waiting for me to praise him a bit more before triumphantly strolling back to spread the good news.

(At an Inn)

“So Kheru, the time draws near.” Bargas glanced at the streets from his table side window. Delightfully sipping on some tea he boiled himself, starting his usual one-sided conversation. “The pre-vote polling has indicated an almost fifty/fifty split.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, Lyra’s change in attitude has rallied many to her side. I wonder what triggered it?” He pondered out loud, keeping his guest in the loop while he attended to his kettle, having heard steam whistling out from it.

“Yeah, instead of what-ifs we should look to purge our guild of the bandwagoners who all the while ignorant of our cause, suck us dry.” Pouring out a cup, Bargas hurriedly got the condiments ready.

“Oh, you’re talking of me swallowing my hatred of the other bloodsuckers... Kheru, I thought you knew me better than this. Those opportunistic half-blooded parasites only know how to take from those that barely have.” As Kheru preferred, Bargas poured in a splash of milk, added a dash of honey, and a pinch of cinnamon to the cup.

Placing the cup of freshly brewed tea in front of his guest, Bargas retook his seat at the table. “Agree to disagree I guess, but moving on. With the vote so evenly split, we may have to take action. The reinforcements we received from central are on standby should that come to be.”

“It is a shame that Sabastian won’t be able to take the stage with us when the day comes. If only I didn’t task him with scouting the dungeon, maybe he would have stuck with the main group...” Bargas’s regretful reflection was interrupted by the soft clinking of glass on wood.

“Kheru?” His guest gives him a reassuring nod, “Of course, we should go visit Sabastian today and tell him the news.”

(Meanwhile at the medical ward)

“Did you hear...-”

“Dear I think everyone heard the news today...- The votes are in...- Lyra win...-”

A man slowly awakens from his slumber, unaware of the time that has passed. Bandages white and pristine cover his whole body, someone has been caring for him. But still, the sensation of his skin crawling underneath ate away at him.

Slowly unraveling his cloth wrappings, he found his hand fleshy and lightly charred. Whoever it was, they did a good job peeling away the dead skin even if some still clung onto the harder to reach areas of his body.

That was it! Memories of what happened that day came rushing back to him.

It was supposed to be an ordinary training camp, something to get the newbies accustomed to dungeon diving life. As an instructor, his task was to gain his guild rapport amongst the newcomers, on the surface at least. His primary objective was to discreetly investigate the dungeon.

With their camp nearing completion, he decided to regale the campers with stories of his exploits.

Several tales later, people were gathered around the fire pit listening with rapt attention.

As time slipped Into the night, actually the sun was still out, but his pocket watch said otherwise. With most of his adoring crowd getting ready for bed, he decided to explore the dungeon under the guise of night watch. What happened next was something... Frantic.

Fire everywhere, the whole floor was on fire. Cutting down any monster in his path, he ran through the woods. The fire was rapidly gaining, gorging itself faster than his two legs could carry him. By the time he spotted the way leading down, it was too late the fire was already upon him.

On instinct, he activated his skill [steel skin] in an attempt to weather the oncoming storm. The assaulting heat proved formidable but not overwhelming, that is until the ground beneath his feet upturned itself. Being thrown into the air was the last thing he recalls before hitting the ground and blacking out.

Staring at the ceiling, he pondered, a man passed up by time. Remembering the words he woke up to ‘Lyra win-’ “Looks like Bargas couldn’t win over the hearts of the people, after all.” A wave of regret washed over him, “If only, I didn’t fail.”

His self wallowing didn’t last long though, Sabastian was always a glass half full type of guy, a man of duty. And there was still something that needed to be done.

His rusted limbs creaked to life as he lifted himself from the bed and onto his feet. Finding his spear leaning against the corner of the room. Along with a set of clean clothes resting, neatly folded on the bedside chair. “That sentimental bastard Bargas probably never gave up on me.” Sabastian let out a slight chuckle.

Popping open the door, he moved with purpose, striding past two nurses who were gossiping to kill time, ‘they were probably the ones I heard’, thought Sabastian. The two tried stopping their patient from leaving, but it was too late. Conviction in his eyes, he was already gone, out the door, lost to the crowd.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you guys down again.”