Chapter 159: Chapter 151 – Farenlight’s Den

Chapter 151 - Farenlight’s Den

Tossing and turning, Claire shifted around in her bed, moving to and fro until she found its most comfortable position. Only then did she finally open her eyes and look upon the dark, grey ceiling. It was dimly lit by the morning sun, which flooded through the window unrestrained and illuminated the room with its piercing bright beams; the wooden divider positioned between the chamber’s two beds did nothing to stop the rays from reaching her eyes. Sitting up, she turned her gaze on the unbubbled fox at the foot of her mattress before slowly looking towards the tacky, checkered floor and the unfortunate wolf-turned-carpet that decorated it.

She matched its cold, taxidermied eyes with an unrelenting stare of her own before unfurling her body with a stretch. She had slept well, but the previous day’s events were still fresh in her mind—and just as annoying as they’d been upon their inception. Returning to town had come hand in hand with a less-than-pleasing discovery. The inn the pervert had booked was full. The staff was able to accommodate her by providing extra bedding, but they had to share a single room. At her insistence, the innkeepers had put up a partition, but it was a paltry defense at best.

The temporary barrier cut her off from easy window access. The chamber’s far side had been claimed by the catgirl, who had insisted that she needed the cool night breeze to fall asleep, and Claire had acquiesced. Being the more intelligent of the two, she knew that the door was safer. Any potential assailants were more likely to enter through the aperture than they were the building’s shabby, dreary halls.

As was made clear by its less-than-excellent decor, the inn they lodged in was not a luxurious hotel. Lia had insisted that it was of a higher quality than most, but Claire knew the truth. The hundreds of taxidermied wolves placed in and around the building proved that the owner was insane, and that his abode was the sort of place frequented only by travelers down on their luck. Its name was another dead giveaway. There was simply no reason for any higher class establishment to name itself The Starving Pup.

Recalling the pub’s name brought Claire’s attention to her own empty stomach. She wasn’t exactly hungry, but there was no reason not to get breakfast out of the way while her roommates were still asleep. Quietly, without waking either, the rogue slipped out of bed and turned her leather coat into a casual dress. Because of the pervert’s proximity, she had slept not in her usual nightgown, but a thick layer of protective hide. It was a necessary measure, in the case that she was approached with ill intent. She knew little of Natalya’s character and the efficacy of Alfred’s curse had been the biggest standout; trading comfort for safety was a more than reasonable choice to make.

Closing the door behind her, she walked past a number of creepy dead wolves and made her way into the building’s foyer. At the front desk, she saw the same old shrimp that had greeted them the previous night. He was leaning back in his chair, chewing on a piece of grass and reading a book on canine behaviours. He noticed her immediately and greeted her with a wave, but otherwise paid her little attention. His eyes were immediately returned to his gravely important prior commitment, even before she acknowledged his salutation.

She was tempted to call both the man’s tastes and life choices to question, but dismissed the thought as soon as it popped into her head. He hadn’t questioned her fox-shaped hat. It wouldn’t have been fair for her to judge.

Conclusion begrudgingly made, Claire strolled past him and waltzed her way into the building’s dining hall. The bar was just as shabby as the inn it was attached to, but it was full nonetheless, swarming with both its overnight customers and a fresh set present only for its supposedly reputable food.

Looking over the scene filled her with a strange sense of unease. It didn’t feel right to know that there were no seats reserved for her, to have to stand at the back of the line and wait for her turn to be served. She knew that she was a lady no longer, but the fact did little to ease her anxiety. It bothered her greatly to know that she had slipped out of society’s purview. Just because she had lost her last name. It was as if she had no value, that people had only ever seen her because she was her father’s daughter.

Shaking her head clear of the thought, she exited the queue and went back upstairs, a decision driven not by her mental state, but a quick glance at the menu on the wall. Everything was made of wolf meat, and she somehow doubted that it would serve to please her palate.

“Oh, Claire. Don’t be so silly. It’s all very delicious.” A deformed pony appeared on her shoulder as she entered an empty corridor. “You were just spoiled, when you lived in the manor. We won’t be getting any more meals like that, so you’ll have to just get over it.”

“I’m trying,” mumbled the halfbreed. “Why else would I have eaten all of that stale bread?”

“Because you haven’t killed anything worth eating yet, of course,” hissed her imaginary snake.

“Now you’re just being ridiculous. Nearly everything she’s killed is worth eating,” said the horse. “I’ve been waiting to try hellhog bolognese for weeks.”

Claire heaved a sigh. “Why do the two of you have to show up every time I have a moment to myself?”

Shouldersnake rotated its body and turned its head upside down. “Because it’s the only time we can, without making you seem mentally ill.”

“She’s right you know,” said the deformed pony. “But we can drop in more if you’d like. I know you just love seeing me, with my form being as beautiful as it is.”

“No thanks.”

She popped open her authority skill as she turned another corner and traced her eyes over the options. The list had grown so long that there were nearly a hundred different choices, almost all of which had gone untried.

“You should have some of the mechanical huskari macarons. They sound delicious.” Shoulderhorse waddled forward and pointed a hoof at one of the most expensive selections.

Claire sighed. “Are you stupid? I don’t have enough mana.” The supposed desert in question was marked with a cost of 50000MP, just over twice her maximum. “And I can’t eat machines.”

The horse raised its head, as would a limbless lunatic filled with pride. “Yes, but I can, and you can taste it through my perfect palate.”

“Your palate is dysfunctional,” said Claire.

“Agreed,” said the snake. “Don’t listen to that stupid pony. Try the eldritch eclairs instead.”

“No.”

“But we can afford them, and they come from one of the few that nearly killed us. Feasting on its flesh will make us stronger.”

“I said no,” grumbled the lyrkress. “That has frog in it.”

Having decided that neither imaginary friend was of much help, Claire stopped just shy of defaulting to bread and picked something random by closing her eyes and waving her hand haphazardly.

When she opened them again, she found the tip of her index finger hovering just in front of the Red Rabbit Rangoons. Recalling that the red rabbits were one of the many species under the strange deers’ control, and that they were not too disgusting to eat, she confirmed her selection and walked into the room as it formed in her hands.

“Welcome back, and good morning. I’m guessing it was a bit too packed downstairs?”

Lia greeted her from the other side of the partition, her shadowy silhouette revealing that she was sitting cross-legged on her bed with her hands resting on her knees. Her fuzzy feline ears, which poked just over the edge of the screen, were occasionally joined by her tail. It was moving in a predictable, wave-like pattern, slowly twisting from left to right and back.

Claire eyed her shoulder beasts and waited for them to vanish before raising her voice. “Is it always like that?”

“Almost. Their stuff is really good, but I think we should try and grab a bite somewhere less crowded. Farenlight’s Den is only a few hours away, but with all the detours we’re taking, we’ll need to set out soon if we want to make it by nightfall.”

“No need.” The lyrkress seated herself next to the snoozing vixen and played with one of her ears.

“We can’t just skip breakfast, Claire. It’s the most important meal of the day.” Getting up from her bed, the catgirl slid the screen aside, just in time to see the magical lump in the mage’s hand turn itself into a plate of fried goodies.

She blinked a few times before retreating behind the partition, closing it, and re-enacting its opening.

“It’s not your imagination,” said Claire.

Lia pinched one of her cheeks and shook her head. “I thought Sylvia was joking when she said you could make food out of magic.”

“She wasn’t.”

The blueblood handed the plate to the runaway soldier. “T-thank you.” Lia brought it up to her face and carefully scanned its contents.

“It’s not an illusion.”

“R-right, I’m sorry for doubting you. It just… seemed so ridiculous.”

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“Because it would eliminate the need for farmers and serfs,” said the halfbreed.

“That, and it would solve just about every logistics problem I can think of,” said Lia.

Claire shrugged. “Maybe. But it isn’t something that can be learned.” She patted the fox as she spoke, but kept her eyes focused on the plate. “Try it.”

“Are you sure? Isn’t this supposed to be your breakfast?”

“I can make more.”

The catgirl raised a morsel to her face, glanced at the supposed cook, and smiled as she brought it to her lips. “It’s delicious. Very aromatic,” she said. “You’re a great cook, Claire.”

The lyrkress narrowed her eyes and took a long, careful look at the taste tester. Her tail was raised, her eyes were shining, and her smile was natural. It didn’t look like she was just trying to flatter her. Either that, or she was an incredibly talented actor. Thinking the former far more likely, Claire summoned another identical plate, tried it for herself, and concluded that the cat’s tongue was never to be trusted.

___

The group headed to the job board as soon as Sylvia woke. Lia reported her task’s completion and handed over the bandit chief’s deflated corpse, while the other two went through the process of revoking their request for a maid. They were fortunate enough to avoid a fine because no one had signed up for the job, but the clerk lectured their ears off nonetheless; she didn’t stop until the catgirl stepped in and explained that she was responsible for the accidental destruction of the pair’s estate.

Once all their administrative duties were out of the way, the trio headed out the town’s eastern gate and made for Farenlight’s Den. They spent half the day walking through the forest, but the scenery barely changed. The only apparent difference was a slight increase in humidity, noted only by the fox and her magical tail.

Mild changes in the environment aside, the trip had only a pair of highlights, both of which involved getting the jump on a group of unwary victims. The hideouts that the fox and the cat worked together to find each contained a small number of bandits. Lia had once again suggested bringing them to town, but Claire refused and executed every poor soul she came across. But while she didn’t capture any of the outlaws, she did capture their weapons. She shoved her findings into her magical cloak whenever the catgirl looked away and came out of each base with another thirty pounds on her person.

Unlike the two-legged snake, the Paunsean deserter took only their coins and wallets. Being on the more destitute side themselves, the outlaws didn’t exactly have any chests filled with treasure. There were only a few dozen silver pieces between each group, and that was accounting for the contents of their stashes. Neither Claire nor Sylvia thought much of the pitiful coinage, but Lia was over the moon, claiming that they very well may have struck gold. She was put in such a good mood that she even joined their resident bard in singing through the last leg of their journey—a decision made to the lyrkress’ dismay. The cat’s voice itself was undeniably pleasant, but her pitch had all the control of a tiny boat in a world-ending storm.

“Is that it?” Claire interrupted one such sequence as she crested a hill and looked upon what was supposedly their final destination. Spread out beneath her was a small settlement protected by a shoddily constructed wooden fence, just high enough to be easily surmounted by a child. It housed only a few dozen buildings, but the streets were just as packed as Vel’rulm’s.

“I think so,” Lia’s eyes moved between the compass in her left hand and the map in her right as she spoke. “We’re in the right place.”

“I thought you said it was a dungeon.”

“It should be,” said the catgirl.

“It is a dungeon! Look!”

Sylvia stood up on her hind legs and pointed at the well in the village’s town square. From afar, it looked like an ordinary watering hole, the only prominent feature of which was its gaping entrance. The mouth was so large that it could have easily fit a turberus with a carriage in tow. That, however, was all the lyrkress noted. She didn’t think anything of the centerpiece until a group of armed men leapt inside of it. A different group emerged shortly after, climbing up its side in a hurry, whilst transporting a wounded scyph on a stretcher.

“I see it now,” said Claire. “But why is there a town?”

“It’s technically an outpost, and it’s extremely convenient,” answered the brunette. “Having all these businesses here makes it a lot easier to buy supplies and sell loot.”

“It’s not convenient. It’s insane.”

The half-cervitaur’s concerns were not unreasonable. It was not uncommon for monsters to wander outside the magical domains that housed them, and some species were more proactive about it than others. Goblins in particular were known for leaving their confines, starting colonies, and doing their utmost to ascend, all whilst chanting the names of the plague gods they served and ruining the land atop which they built.

And yet, there was a village set up around the magical well. There was not even a gate sealing off the entrance. The only sturdy-looking structure even remotely nearby was the job board; there was nothing to stop a monster from stepping out into the open and eating all the children it could find. 

“And I thought you said entry was exclusive,” said Claire, as she watched another three parties come and go.

Laughing awkwardly, the catgirl scratched the back of her neck. “Anyone can enter the first ten floors, but you need authorization to go any lower.”

Sylvia gasped. “Woah… this place has over ten floors? It’s gotta be huge!”

“It is, and it’s also very dangerous. So be careful, and do your best to stay safe while we fight, okay?” The retired soldier got up on the tips of her toes in an attempt to reach the fox, but Claire took half a step back and left her fingers grazing only the air.

“If it’s so dangerous, then why are people allowed in?” asked Sylvia.

“Dungeons are like mines. Heading in blind can be risky, but it isn’t hard to make a decent living.” The catgirl looked back down at her map. “Permits are supposed to help people. You can’t stop them from exploring dungeons altogether, but you can minimize casualties by restricting just the really dangerous parts.”

“Oh, I get it! It’s ‘cause people aren’t gonna try as hard to do stuff they shouldn’t if they can already do other stuff.”

“That’s right! You’re very smart, Sylvia,” said Lia, as she marched straight into town.

“Thanks!” said the fox, with a giggle.

Unlike Vel’rulm, the outpost was completely unguarded, but it wasn’t insecure. Most of the townspeople had weapons equipped; they were walking around in broad daylight armed to the teeth, often more literally than not.

Even the various vendors had swords and bows. Some wore them on their waists, like the greedy explorers flooding the city, while others had them hanging on their walls. The menacing shopkeepers often greeted their customers with more suspicion than hospitality, and not for no reason. Many of the visitors were only in town to visit the dungeon; there was little need for any of them to care about their behaviour or any of the locals. One particularly obnoxious customer even went into an apothecary with a broken arm and came out with two, after picking a fight with the clerk.

“Would you rather figure out our lodging situation first, or grab a bite to eat?” asked Lia.

It was still the middle of the afternoon. Their trip had gone smoothly; they had found and subsequently cleared out both hideouts in less than half the projected time.

“Neither,” said Claire. Taking the lead, she walked straight towards the middle of the town, towards the landmark they had spotted from atop the hill.

“I really don’t think we should be dungeon diving just yet,” said Lia. “We don’t know enough about it, and it seems a little too late in the day to start.”

“It’ll be fine. We can sleep inside.”

Ignoring the overly cautious complaints that followed, Claire glanced over the job board, which was covered in requests for specific materials, and jumped into the well.

Log Entry 5445
You have entered the dungeon known as Farenlight’s Den. Some but not all of the monsters that lurk within this dungeon outclass you.

Her heart was pounding with excitement. It was finally time to explore a normal dungeon, to challenge a domain that belonged not to a perverted demigod, but the predator that served as the local apex.

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