“Why does it look so stupid?” I say, scrapping yet another of my failed designs. “Pop, can’t you make this thing a little more user-friendly?”

  Pop’s screen changes from its normal blue to red.

  Error: Please clarify the issues with Blueprint mode.

  “I need some preset golems, or some drawing aids.” I say with a huff.

  Pop’s screen clears and remains blank for a few seconds.

  Blueprint mode allows for user Unnamed Dungeon to prototype new minions. Using existing designs is counterproductive.

  “Yes, but I have to draw them freehand.”

  Error: Please clarify the issues with Blueprint mode.

  “For the love of God.” I say through my nonexistent teeth. “I can’t draw Pop. Everything I do looks like crap.”

  Error: Please clarify the issues with Blueprint mode.

  “Oh, you’re asking for it, young man. Keep it up, and I’ll reset you and start again.” The sound of footsteps getting closer interrupts my empty threat. “Why are the girls coming to get me? Is it the king’s birthday? No, that happened a few months ago, didn’t it?” My eyes dart back to Pop’s screen. “Don’t think we’re done here, young man. I’ll deal with you after I’m done with whatever foreign noble the king wants to impress.” A buzz rings through my head as the little green screen disappears, leaving me alone to wait for the girls.

  I let out a long, sad sigh. “God, I hope it’s a foreign noble this time. If I have to listen to one more rich dirt farmer who’s desperate to raise their rank, I’m going to lose it.” I clear my throat, and adopt the whiny, nasal tone the people around here think makes them sound fancy. “Your Majesty, I hear there is an opening in your court. I beseech thee. Grant me the honor of cupping your balls while you pee.”

  My chest creaks as it opens, and the same girls from all those years ago peek inside. “Quickly now, we mustn’t keep the king waiting.” The older of the two says with a gentle smile. “Hello dungeon core, it’s good to see you again.”

  “Good to see you too, Mel.” I say with a giggle. She can’t hear me, and I’m fairly certain her name’s not Mel, but I was always a sucker for a cute girl. The two have grown up rather well, all things considered. It’s been over 80 years since they became the royal stave bearers, and the two of them have grown into a couple of beautiful young women. Their beards are down past their chests now, and they always have flowers woven into them. Fun fact for the smart kids down the front: all dwarfs have beards. From what I’ve overheard, male dwarfs go crazy for long beards on lady dwarfs.

  With practiced elegance and skill, the two pick me up, slide the bag over my core, and, as they have many, many times before, rush me to the king’s side. “Ah, thank you, girls.” The dwarf says with a hushed voice. “Now hurry back to your chambers before someone tries to steal you away.”

  “My king, do you still see us as girls?” Mel asks, her tone respectful with just the slightest tinge of sass.

  The king chuckles. “I’m an old man, my dear. Anyone less than a century old looks very young to me. But you’re right. You’re young ladies now.” Mel leans in and whispers something that I will NOT be repeating here, then leaves the throne room with a giggle. The king rips the bag off my core, his voice cracking as he orders the doors to be opened.

  “Presenting the delegation from the forests of the wild land.”

  “Nobles from another land? Thank god.” I say, my attention now fixed on the group of 7 walking through the massive doors. “Interesting, they’re pulling 2 covered carts behind them. People normally leave their crap outside.” The king interrupts my musing with that grunting thing he does when he gets excited. “Crap, I forgot he’s got a thing for elves.”

  In his defence, which is a phrase I’d never thought I’d say. 6 of them seem to be very good-looking elf women wearing extravagant clothes. Even the ones pulling the carts are beautiful enough to give Azone a run for her money.

  The last member of their party is a male dwarf, and unlike the elves, he appears to be dressed as a blacksmith. His clothes are simple and burnt, his beard covered with burnt hairs and dirt. “Did these elves forget to bring a dwarf to talk for them or something? This guy looks like they just plucked him off the street.” I focus on the odd man out. He really doesn’t want to be here. I can see he’s shuffling his feet and picking at a hole in his apron. “Something’s not right here, and I love it.”

  “Come in, come in. You ladies are most welcome here.” The king says, unable or unwilling to acknowledge the only dwarf in the group. I turn my attention back to the king and, to no one’s surprise, his transfixed on the elves. In case anyone needs a reminder, the king is very fond of elf women. Very fond. So fond, in fact, that the walls of the 4th floor have been decorated with, shall we say, erotic art of them.

  The group walks almost all the way to the throne before bowing to the king. One elf takes a step forward and speaks. “Good tiding to you, oh great king. We come before you today to seek trade rights and friendly relations with this magnificent land.”

  If this were anyone other than an elf woman, they’d be thrown into prison for speaking without permission. But the king is the only noble here, and as usual, he’s forgotten his rules because, drum roll, please. Hot elves. “Honestly, how is this guy still in power? I can see him trying to keep his shit together and failing.”

  The king clears his throat and puts on his best voice. “Of course, of course! You are most welcome here today.” He chirps, almost bouncing off his seat. “I must ask, however, why have you brought carts into my thrown room?”

  The head elf bows a little deeper and smiles. “Forgive us, your grace. These carts and their contents are tribute to you. I am under strict instructions from our lord to deliver them to you personally.”

  The king smiles the widest smile I’ve ever seen from him. “Tribute, you say? Your leader must be a man of great generosity.” He says, no longer hiding his excitement.

  The elf takes a step back and gestures towards the carts. “Not at all; we only wished to offer a fitting tribute. If you permit it, it would be my honor to present it to you now.”

  The king straightens and regains a bit of composure. “Of course. Please do.”

  The first cart glides forward, and the elf speaker pulls the cover off the top. The cart holds elaborate golden items, and nearly all of them have a dragon motif. Seriously, what’s with this guy and dragons? They’re the only thing he decorates anything with. “Your grace, our first offering is treasures recovered from a bat like creature we subdued. We believe it once belonged to a long-dead dungeon. The beast had been bringing its spoils to a cave on the outskirts of your land. Our wise ruler found the creature and captured it recently. When we discovered its hoard, it seemed only right that we return it to you.”

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  The king, no longer trying to hide his emotions, laughs and bounces on his thrown. “I’d thought this stuff was gone forever. You’ve done me a great service here.” The king declares, his eyes now fixed on the second covered cart. “You’ve got me curious now. What’s in the second cart? More stolen riches?”

  The elf smiles, gesturing for the second cart to be wheeled forward. “No, your grace. This is our tribute.” The Elf flicks her wrist and with a dramatic flourish, pulls the sheet off the cart.

  “By the gods.” The king and I say in unison. Gems tumble to the ground, forced free by the ornate weapons, gold and jewellery piled high in the cart.

  The elf speaker’s smile grows as she continues. “This is our tribute to you, the best swords and magical items money can buy.”

  “How? Where?” The king says, looking more like a kid on Christmas than a monarch. With a grunt, he abandons his thrown and rushes over to the second cart. “Beautiful. It’s all so beautiful.” The king runs his hands over a few of the pieces, his face beaming at his newfound fortune. “They’re all masterpieces. Where did you find them? Are they relics?”

  “No, Your Grace. They are the work of this dwarf here, the master smith Darron Drodro.” The elf answers, gesturing to the sole dwarf in their party.

  Darron takes a step forward. “I apologize, Your Grace. I told these elves that such things wouldn’t be up to the standard of a great and noble king such as yourself.”

  “They are all works of art!” The king barks back as if someone had insulted his mother. “I’ll hear no more about these not being fit for a king. Why, one of these alone would have been a fitting tribute.”

  Darron lowers his head and takes a step back. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”

  The elf speaker takes a step towards the king. “Sire, this talented craftsman has spent his life seeking rare and precious materials. If I am not mistaken, doesn’t the best ore in the world come from your kingdom?”

  The king, realizing what the elf is getting at, straightens his back and, for the first time, looks at Darron. “Your companion here is correct. My kingdom is a wonderland for craftsmen such as yourself.”

  Darron lowers his head further. “There are rumors you have a mythril mine, Your Grace.”

  “We have two, my dear boy. My kingdom is new in the grand scale of things. Many years ago, this land was barren and filled with monsters. Only the poor and desperate would live here. However, I carved this city into the earth itself, and found many rare materials and treasures. With time and effort, I became responsible for almost ? of all the rare materials in the world.”

  Darron’s eyes grow wide as the king speaks. “I would do anything to get my hands on something so rare.”

  The king smiles a greedy smile. “No need to sell your soul for a few scraps of mythril. Come work for me, and I’ll make sure you get your hands on any materials you want. You can work with the finest ores this world has to offer.”

  “I accept.” Darron shouts without a moment’s hesitation.

  The elves all bow their heads, and the elf speaker raises a hand. “Oh great king, do these gifts please you?”

  “Please me! These gifts are the finest I’ve ever received, and to bring me a man of such talent as well.” He pauses for a moment and turns to face the elves. “Tell me what happened to the bat creature?”

  “We imprisoned it underground. The beast can respawn, so it was the only way to end its suffering.” The elf says with an odd smile.

  “What a brilliant idea!” The king says with a clap of his hands and a little jump for joy that makes his fat face ripple.

  The elf emissary bows deeply. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  The king returns to his new pile of treasure, and grabs a large ruby from the top. “I must say, I’m impressed. Your lord seems to be a man of power and good taste. I’d be a fool not to have him as an ally.”

  The other elves join the elf emissary’s bow. “We thank you for your kind words.”

  The king answers with a laugh. “Your trade rights are granted. I’ll send an envoy to your lord in the coming days to discuss the terms of a future alliance as well.”

  The elf raises her head and smiles. “You are too kind, Your Grace.” Her eyes dart to me, her fake smile turning into a smirk. “We are humbled by your generosity.” She says in a soft, slightly indifferent tone. “Our leader will be overjoyed.”

  The king holds his ruby to the light and whistles. “That’s one hell of a cut.”

  The emissary gives me a wink before returning her attention to the king. “Forgive me, Your Grace. We have taken up enough of your valuable time. We shall leave at once.”

  The king’s face drops. “Leave? But you just got here.”

  “We must return home with all haste to report and make preparations. It wouldn’t be proper for us to impose on you further.”

  The king slumps against the cart, spilling more of its precious cargo onto the floor. “Yes, of course. Please don’t let me keep you. I wish you could stay for a while to regain your strength.” The king says, sounding slightly deflated.

  The elf speaker bows so deep, she could touch her toes if she wanted. “Truly, your kindness knows no bounds. Nothing would make us happier, but our lands will need time to receive an envoy from your great kingdom.”

  The king nods his head and lets out a sigh. “A shame. Elves are far too rare in my lands.”

  “You’re not fooling anyone, you old perv.” I say, shaking my vision from side to side. “You’re sad you won’t get the chance to see them naked.”

  “Very well, leave here today with my blessing and my gratitude.” The King says in a loud, commanding voice.

  The elf speaker leads the rest in a dramatic bow/dance. “Thank you, oh great king, may your days be long in this land. May you find peace in the embrace of Lady Fluffy Butt.”

  “I knew something didn’t feel right.” I say with a giggle. “These guys are working for my beautiful girl. I could kiss them!”

  The king freezes and slowly turns to the retreating elves. “Who’s Lady Fluffy Butt?”

  The elf speaker turns back to the king, and I can see a touch of malice on her face. “Our patron deity, Your Grace. Surely a man of your position would know of them.”

  “Oh yes, of course. I’ve heard of them.” The king clears his throat and straightens. “As I said, elves are far too rare in our lands, so I’m afraid my knowledge of their gods is somewhat lacking.”

  “They are the god of plenty and justice, Your Grace. With your permission, I could recite their prayer.”

  The king nods. “Please do.”

  The elf holds her hands together as if in prayer. “We offer our prayers to Lady Fluffy Butt. May our cups be filled with her great red light until the great one returns and the world is made whole once more.” The elf speaker chants every word with a quiet reverence.

  The king clears his throat and fiddles with my stave. “Not a very long prayer, is it?”

  The elf speaker bows again to the king. “No, Your Grace, and the identity of the great one has been lost to time.”

  The king smiles and returns to his treasure. “Ah, I see. We have our own customs and sayings whose meaning has been lost over the years too.” The king says, pulling a sword from the pile and examining its edge.

  “Isn’t culture a wonderful thing?” The elves bow once again before leaving, the doors closing behind them.

  “Pop, did you hear that? Lady Fluffy Butt is coming to save us.” I say to the empty space around me. “Wait. How did Lady Fluffy Butt learn her name? I distinctly remember her not being able to hear me.”

  Pop’s yellow screen appears in front of me.

  The fourth message included information needed to reply to user Unnamed Dungeon. System Pop determined that a code word would be the most efficient way.

  “Yes, I get that. I’m not stupid. I’m asking how she found out her name?” Before I have a chance to take it back, Pop’s yellow screen clears and shifts to black.

  System Pop told her in the message.

  “Yeah, realized it just after I asked.” I say with a groan. “The black screen is a bit much, don’t you think?”

  Do you wish to adjust the brightness of the WEEB systems screen colour?

  “You’re an asshole, Pop.”