No Feet was elbow-deep in magitech grease—literally—when some random guild clerk popped into her workshop, looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. “No Feet, the master wants you,” he said, knowing that interrupting a dwarf mid-wrench wasn’t exactly the safest thing to do in the world. No Feet didn’t even look up.

  “Tell her I’m busy!” She figured the master could wait, especially when she hears that No Feet was doing maintenance on her transport. It was an excuse she’d used before, but it was not acceptable today.

  “Can’t, she’s called a meeting. An important one.”

  Of course it is. With a sigh that probably carried across the cavernous workshop, No Feet wiped the sweat and oil off her brow. She didn’t recognize the clerk, but honestly, she barely recognized half the faces around the guild. She was always out on the road, and barely ever spend time at the Guild Hall itself. Still, duty called—loud, obnoxious, and inevitable as ever.

  “Fine,” she grumbled as she slammed the engine cover shut, already regretting the interruption. No Feet tossed her tools into the toolbox before placing it inside her magitech carriage. Nobody got sticky fingers in the Guild, but there was no reason to take chances.

  After locking the carriage, No Feet followed the clerk. She bounced through the tunnels on her springy metal prosthetics as she felt a headache brewing. Whenever the Guild Master summoned her, it meant something was about to get complicated. This was probably something dangerous, and definitely something she’d rather not deal with.

  Please, let it not be the damn Undead Zone again. That place can rot.

  They made their way into the main hall. Unlike all the other guilds with their various branches everywhere, the Dungeon Supplier Guild had just the one Guild Hall and it, in No Feet’s not-so-humble opinion, was the absolute best in the world.

  Their main hall was massive. Like, ‘how in the name of The Pantheon did they build this?’ massive. Supposedly it sat in a pocket dimension, just off from the real world. No Feet didn’t really get the details, but rumors were the guild struck some deal with a few powerful dungeon cores. In exchange for running their supplies, the cores anchored the Guild House somewhere nobody could just stroll into. Some folks figured the whole place was inside a dungeon though No Feet doubted that. She got why people talked. Anyone who stepped into the main hall could see that it was different but she knew dungeons, and the Guild Hall did not have the feel of a dungeon.

  The hall stretched on and on, built from some weird, dark stone that just swallowed up the light. The ceiling was so high No Feet could barely see them, and supported by pillars as thick as a house. Lastly, there was an electric hum in the air that got into your bones.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Mortals could not build such a marvel.

  Lastly, there were the walkways. Dozens of them, stacked up against the walls like a giant staircase, and each lined with portals going to a different place in the world.

  The portals were the lifeblood of the Dungeon Supplier Guild. It was how the guild stayed in business; one big Guild Hall, with access to everywhere via portals that made supply runs that would have taken months to mere days. Let see if there was an Adventurer Guild that can claim the same!

  As usual, the main hall was chaos. Guild clerks yelling, porters hauling gear, and suppliers arguing with just about anyone near them. Suppliers weren’t the politest of people in the best of times, and in the chaos of the Guild Hall, they were worse. No Feet saw a supplier loudly demanding to know who stationed their griffin on his flying carpet and even spotted a halfling clanging by in a clockwork carriage. No Feet had to stop herself from laughing.

  The stupid thing looked like a wind-up toy!

  No Feet weaved through the madness, bouncing over bulky crates and dodging anybody dumb enough to get in her way. As she navigated her way through the chaos, she spotted a familiar face. Alfred the [Runner], and he’s heading the same way.

  No Feet silently groaned. This was going to be a real treat, a double summons meant serious trouble.

  She and the clerk reached the elevators in the centre of the hall first but waited for Alfred and his own escort. He gave her a nod. It was barely a greeting, but No Feet respected her follow supplier enough to nod back. Unlike No Feet, who was still wearing her grease-stained apron and the same tunic she’d worn for the past three days, the human [Runner] looked like he just stepped out of a recruitment poster. He was wearing polished leathers and had a fancy silver chain around his neck. She always wondered why he ran with a chain around the neck; seem like an accident that’s waiting to happen, but suppliers all had their eccentricity.

  Alfred caught her looking and shrugged. “Don’t know what this is about, but if she’s calling both of us, it can’t be good.”

  No Feet just grunted. The human [Runner] may had taken her glance the wrong way, but the fact he did not know what this was about was concerning. If Alfred didn’t know what was up, nobody did and that was enough to make her stomach twist. Good thing dwarves has good constitution.

  The elevator finally came to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal the opulent and intimidating office that serves as the officer of the Guild Master. No Feet could practically taste the old paper in the air, all of it glowing under this weird, magical lamp overhead. People whispered that lamp was an artificial sun, spewing magical sunlight at all times of the day. No Feet had no clue if it was true, but honestly, she did not want to find out.

  Why? Well, there is this stupid human saying about curiosity killing a cat, but the main reason for her reluctance was sitting behind a massive, dark oak desk. It was the Guild Master herself.

  The woman was a sight—tall, regal, hair so green and long they looked like roots in her skull. The Master did not wear clothes, because she didn’t need them. Her skin was a wild mix of green and brown, and you just knew she wasn’t some regular person. At least, not anymore.

  Naveys hit Level 100 ages ago, stopped being just an elf, and instead had punched her ticket to godhood. Now she was a minor goddess, a demigod called a Dryad, and one of the most powerful and dangerous folks alive. Her presence demanded attention and no one, whether they were [Kings], [Queens], [Generals], or even [Heroes], ignored a summon from her. You get summoned, you show up.

  Simple as that.