Chapter 3: DEATH 2: SLIME QUEEN’S CAVE

An amazing thing about The Capitol is that selling equipment was a simple process. As a member of the Surveyors’ Guild, regulations dictated we moved goods through the approved stores. These were owned and controlled by families of the founding members. They claimed to offer deals where we could trade in trinkets and treasures for our uniforms, but they inflated the prices by thirty percent.

My master ignored those stores, at least for selling. Multiple second-hand goods stores existed, and none asked questions, though they paid below market rates. That was fine. Every one of the fifty-five gold coins was a step closer to my goal of ranking up.

One last thing needed to be done, however, before completing the lizardkins’ report.

After checking several stores, a back-alley florist agreed to answer my questions in return for shifting his excess stock. A fair exchange in my book, and so we chatted about exotic flowers and what tools she needed to care for them. It turned out only a single type could grow somewhere so hot and dark — Tulopry. More weed than flower, it came in countless colors and was beyond hardy.

Perfect.

Half-wilted tulips didn’t make the best donation, but Greensors’ acolytes took them, regardless.

“They, who are the plants, look after them,” A high priest remarked as an acolyte bundled them into a basket. With a cheery wave, they departed, neither caring about my bewildered look at the statement. Gardening gods were weird.

Ferris, my landlord, was nowhere to be seen anywhere on the apartment stairs. Lucky for me, he would have demanded any money he saw, and then lectured me about being worthless.

The wooden door scraped shut, and my chair gave a comforting creak as it took my weight. Time passed as various rough drafts of the lizardkin’s report filled my trash bin, each bearing various attempts at getting Minnius what she desired most.

Her mural danced behind my closed eyes, a symbol of our first meeting. Of all her pieces, it would always be my favorite, linked to my first time seeing her smile. My fingers tapped a steady rhythm against the table as that meeting raced through my mind. Her strength, her joy. How could anyone find weakness in that?

The jolt of realization shot through me, before curses fell from my lips. Adventurers like the lizardkin wouldn’t respond to any obvious pleas. It would have to be snuck in. Difficult, but not impossible.

Ink spots splashed my hand and stained the parchment with the speed of my quill. It didn’t matter, no one read the scenic description section, anyway. Adventurers wanted two things, the map and the monsters’ bio.  

Both of which would be a faithful recounting of my experiences. Until they reached the section about equipment requirements.

A quick read over my handiwork caused my grin to widen. It wasn’t a lie, more of a clever rewording of the truth.

Special Equipment: Exotic Flowers and Colorful Paints

Effect: Entrances target and forces her to show off a special move set. This includes a jump that causes a miniature earthquake and a grapple that leads to suffocation.

Without a doubt, the Barbarians would want to prove themselves against both attacks.

Time for the finishing touches. My silver badge sunk into the sealing wax, leaving a small winking fox head behind. A sign of official guild business that worked better than any signature. A visit to The Guild’s record keeper was the last step, followed by waiting in the basement. Waiting was my second-biggest complaint about my job, beaten out only by a single other complication.

Said complication waited for me on the bottom step, lips curled back to better show off his tusks. Tremors filled my legs, as the muscular orc’s scarred arm reached out towards me to collect the Thieve’s Guild’s Fee. They claimed to offer us basement dwellers protection. Though from what they didn’t say.

One of the younger members asked, once. His broken nose making it obvious.

No one dared miss a payment after that display. With a satisfied grunt, the orc weighed the bag in his hand before tossing it casually into his large sack, where it jingled against the rest.

“Glad to see ya still paying up, surveyor. But I got news, ya late, so ya missed it.”

He cut off my bowing apology by flicking my forehead. The blow, though small, stung. A savage smile appeared at my pain filled grimace before he continued.

“Moneys tight for us in The Guild, what with the King’s new taxes. Means more desperation out there. So ya fees going up, starting from the next round of ya monthly payments. Double. Don’t forget.”

The sheer force he used to shove me into the wall on his way past emptied my lungs of breath. My back throbbed as my breathing came out in shallow gasps. Double? My groan was less about the physical pain than the financial. With two weeks of rent left in my savings account, something spectacular needed to happen, and soon. My landlord was not patient, and he would never agree to another extension.

Tears welled in my eyes, both from pain and the sheer injustice of it. Only the wall held me upright as my legs quivered at the thought of it. Nothing good happened to the homeless of this city, especially those that were immortal. Flesh doctors, organ harvesting, and maybe worse. Was that to be my fate?

Lutheris, The Goddess of Luck, apparently noticed my plight, as clanking footsteps echoed from the stairwell. A client? Guild protocol forbid business outside designated areas, but no upper floors residents came down here to check. With the door shut, nobody should know if we stayed quiet.

If she witnessed me standing in the hallway, tear streaked and disheveled, my master would have killed me. She always claimed that first impressions were important, usually while drunk before noon.  

As the thought hit me, an elven woman strutted around the corner. Posture perfect, with flowing blonde locks, and wearing a sneer that deepened at the mere sight of me. A noble, for sure. Though, when she stepped closer, the illusion of perfection shattered.

Stains covered her ornate armor, as well as mud, and some kind of potion spill. Her blonde hair contained twigs, and her makeup appeared smudged and ruined. A common sight down here. A noble’s second daughter, most likely who believed that joining the Adventurers’ Guild, would be easy. Except that Guild didn’t care about family names, and so you started off at the bottom. No handouts, no help.

Any worry about my appearance vanished as she stood in front of me. Obviously, we were in the same boat, both down on our luck. My opening smile was kind, but as soon as she opened her mouth it vanished from my face.

“You’re available,” Her imperious tone implied there was no chance it would be otherwise.

She didn’t wait for me to retrieve the paperwork before she started dictating terms.

Her job would take me to the Grey Morass, a swamp named after the water’s color and the skin of the bodies able to be recovered. Fun. Once there, she requested a thorough investigation, and up-to-date maps of the Ooze Caves. In passing, she also mentioned needing The Slime Queen’s weakness, a fact that surprised me.

Any non-rookie adventurer could have told her that: fire. Slimes were such an easy enemy type, recruits for the city guard trained against ones bred for that purpose. Not my problem if she didn’t think to ask around. Thus, we struck the deal.

It made her newly lost noble status even more obvious, as instead of asking for my price, she tossed a bag at my feet. Double? No, triple my fee at minimum. My bow stayed rigid, and the bag didn’t leave the ground until her footsteps receded. A shaky laughed escaped me at the luck of doing this here.

By regulations, we were to rectify such transgressions, least the customer learn about it and feel overcharged. My fellow surveyors would have asked for a cut to keep quiet, but now? All mine.

My jaunty whistle filled the air. A donation to the temple of Lutheris was in order before my journey began.

***

Unlike my previous trip, the roads remained empty of threats during the three days it took to arrive. Few travelled this way, and so the monsters stuck to their swampy home. At the edge, though, things transformed. Broken arrows and burned corpses littered the area, proof of an adventuring group’s recent visit.  

Good, in that they killed the creatures, making the road safer for the rest of us. Bad in that the destruction focused on weaker beasts, forcing stronger ones to travel further a field when hunting. Growls of those monsters were audible, while performing a check for trinkets. None materialized, which was a shame. Someone else’s loot was the best kind.

With nothing to gain, it was time to press on.

Lukewarm water filled my boots with every step taken to dodge bogadiles, leachounds, and an unfamiliar monkeybat monster. My gaze locked on to the last creature while hiding behind a rotting log, the monstrosity’s fumbling gait somehow endearing to watch. Though, the stinging insects that called my hiding place home acted on their displeasure at my presence.

It seemed lost, maybe frightened, as it flapped small wings and splashed in puddles. A wizard’s escaped experiment, or a new creature? If the latter, the Zoological Guild would pay out the nose for sketches.

Without a single crease, the finished sketch slid into my water tight case. An expensive item, but worth it when exploring anywhere with water. One couldn’t be sure if a puddle would be deeper than they appeared.

Multiple monster attacks later, the entrance to the cave system loomed out of the murky waters. Vines climbed the rocky outcropping as pools of water formed a pond at the mouth of the cave. Eyes popped out of the water before vanishing from view a second later.

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They looked like frogs’ eyes, but bigger. Much bigger.

After navigating around the puddle, giving it a wide berth, a glowing ring of mushrooms came into view. Their yellow and purple head told me they were poisonous, not that touching them would be wise, regardless.

Rings like that denoted a fae circle, and if so, powerful magic dwelt inside. Though, the location was worth gold to the right buyer. Rumors spoke of stupider noble daughters trying to hunt the fair folk for wishes and favors. It didn’t end well for the ones who succeeded.

Sticky puddles of goo started appearing further into the cave. The sludge sticking to the bottom of my boots and making it hard to pull away. It was during a struggle to pull myself free that the first monstrous denizens arrived. A rounded slime bounced forward, its light pink body illuminated by the glowing moss on the walls.

This one was watermelon sized. It possessed no genuine desire for aggression, not having enough brain to understand the concept. Most non-humanoid slime attacks occurred due to people not spotting their presence before stepping into them. Often this resulted in nothing more dangerous than a burned-off pants leg or a sprained ankle.

Some mage apprentices adopted the smaller slimes as familiars, storing metallic items inside their round bodies for protection. One created an acid proof material, so his slime could sit on his shoulder. Adorable. They come in more than their small, mindless forms, however.

Transparent cubes and static boulders were the giants of the breed. They often filled dungeon corridors, and everyone knew walking into them was a death sentence for the unprepared, as their corrosion rapidly stripped flesh from bone.

The humanoid ones were smart, using manipulation and stealth to get the drop on prey. Sculpted to mimic people, they hid in shadow to mask their translucent forms. They acted charming, or pretended to be lost travelers to draw you in before pouncing to consume your flesh. Whispers told of their power to shrink or grow individual limbs, allowing them to attack from unpredictable ranges.

My stomach burned with guilt as my sword flashed out to dispatch the nearing slime. While no threat, upon their defeat, they dropped ooze, a common potion component. Apprentice alchemists used it in basic brews, and would happily purchase the material for pocket change.

With three vials worth stored in my backpack, it was time to move on. Slime fell from my sword, which bobbed on my hip, splattering the floor with each plop. It created a trail, but so did the gooey footprints. These puddles grew larger during the brief stops to record features of the caves: a moss formation, odd markings, larger piles of bones.

After turning a sharp right because of an odd-looking boulder, a cracked femur protruding from one mound caught my eye. Perfect.

The femur pulled free from the pile easily, barely dislodging any of the other bones that sat around it. Held in the crook of my elbow, the bone protruded forward like a lance. Ready to poke into any invisible foes, giving me the seconds needed to jump backwards. Hopefully.

Passageways filled out the map with each turn in the stone corridors, leading to a tangled mess of lines on the page. While double-checking my notes, a casual glance around the area revealed something of interest. A cave in. And peeking out behind the mound was a large stone, a slightly different shade from the surrounding walls.

Excitement bubbled inside me as its nature became apparent — a secret door. This was a huge find. Adventurers bragged about hidden nooks filled with jewels, magical items, and even the bones of saints. Technically, my job was to mark its location and leave it for the adventurers to sort out.

But what if it held gold? Enough to pay the Thieves Guilds new tax? Or dreaming bigger, enough to win the contest? Protection money would no longer be required when The Council once promoted to the upper floors. Besides, what was another rule broken in a mission full of them? It wasn’t like the Elf would know, provided nothing looked too disturbed. A finder’s fee, of sorts. That’s what some rogues had called it, when they discussed plundering ahead of a party.

Yes, that was fair.

Without the proper tools, shifting the mess of stone came down to brute force. Stone dust covered my uniform, as several slimes came to investigate. None attacked, apparently content to watch me uncover the simple lever that stuck out of the wall. It slid down with a click, and a grinding sound loud enough to rattle my teeth reverberated through the cavern as the door slid slowly open.

Adrenaline coursed through me as the door fully opened, my posture set to run on the off chance of horrendous monsters. What could be inside? Dreams of magic swords, a treasure map to a King’s ransom, enough food to last weeks. The sight that lay before me shattered those unrealistic expectations. Rusted weapons stuck out of crates, and barrels filled with multicolored ooze were the obvious contents. Though, searching netted me with a small pouch of coins that sat between them. Twenty in total, so not the worst haul. No other secret doors revealed themselves during the search. A pity, a hidden passageway to skip ahead, was valuable intel.

The room held potential of a sort. None, but the most determined slime, could melt the stone door, making this a safe zone for weary travelers. That thought had me yawning. The walk had been long. Why not rest here?

Sleep came, restful for a change.

***

As my brain sluggishly regained consciousness, two fundamental facts became obvious.

One: There was no feeling in my lower body at all.

Two: My report now contained a second secret entrance.

An impish grin threatened to split the transparent blue face that hovered mere inches from my own. Dark eyes twinkled mischievously, promising something my addled brain couldn’t comprehend. My thoughts scattered to the wind as the figure leaned back, allowing me to take her in fully.

The Slime Queen herself, in all her gooey glory.

Her thin hands cupped her face as she stuck out her tongue. That, combined with shoulder-length hair that molded to her body, she reminded me of a statue. A living statue made of syrup. A crafter’s best piece after struggling with an unusual medium.

It made me laugh to envision a man standing next to a giant mold, surrounded by empty jars, still marked with the grocer’s logo. She laughed too, though, at what wasn’t clear, but her entire body quivered in ways no humans could ever imitate.

Odd. Pretty.

“My legs.”

She reached out to place a finger to my lips, killing any desire inside me to speak. Words were hard. They required focus, and her touched drained mine. A mind-altering property of the slime? Neat. My facial muscle spasmed and locked into place, leaving me with a stupid smile.

She laughed again, covering her mouth with a hand. A need filled me to poke her nose, but before my finger could reach, she leaned down to nuzzle my hand. Her transparent form making my hand appear distorted, and each time her eyes moved, my skin seemed to ripple.

Eyes were the window to the soul. Was that causing the effect? My brain spasmed. Did that mean she didn’t have a soul? Or had my hand become her soul? Her words derailed my train of thought.

“You shouldn’t have fallen asleep in my cave.” The Slime Queen said. Her voice was cute, sassy, holding no trace of regal arrogance. Weird for a queen. She had no crown. None. Should she have one? Was that a thing? Once again, her voice snapped me back to reality.

“Before I finish eating you. Tell me. Why are you here? Did she send you to spy on me? You don’t wear her colors, a mercenary?”

My brow furrowed. Did she know the elf? If so, then yes. Technically, she sent me? My lips were numb, but the need to answer her overcame me. She was a ruler, cute and soft, and needing answers. Answers were good. Details were murky, but generalities should be fine.

“I-I. Quest. Yes. F-F-Find weakness. Map cave. You’re pretty.”

“Aww. Thank you,” She reached out to pat my head, causing my hair to flatten against my skull.

“You’re here to find my weakness? She’s growing bolder.” Her cheeks puffed up as she pouted. “She really should let it go. They encroached too close. Stupid flying bugs should know how this works by now.”

That was important. Probably. Something upset her, and that was bad. No ideas occurred to me on how to fix the issue, however. Her shoulders deflated, and she collapsed to rest against me. Her hair dissolved my throat, but that was great. No need for me to speak. She didn’t need me to voice my confusion.

My arms tried to encircle her, and she snuggled deeper into me. Far deeper than anyone should reach without a weapon. Each movement she made tingled and tickled. This was fine.

She was so soft for a slime.

---

A/N - Slimes. Soft, round, acidic.

Which type do you prefer? Cubes, round beans, or the more human among them?

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