Darron drags an old chair over from the kitchen, its ancient legs wiggling their way over the dirt floor. "I can't believe a dungeon core with a soul spawned in the badlands. You don't have a lick of luck, do you?" He asks, the chair protesting as he drops onto it. "I'm going to be honest with you, Mr. Core. I'm not great with details unless they have something to do with the forge. Best I can do is summarize it for you." Darron wriggles in his chair before pulling a small chisel from his back pocket. "I wondered where you had gone." He says before tossing it over his shoulder with a shrug.

  Yeah, this guy needs help. If I ever go back to guidance counseling, this guy is first on the list.

  Darron lets out a long breath as he leans back. "About 50 years ago, your little bat friend saved me from bandits. I was collecting iron from a bog near the edge of the badlands at the time. It's a beautiful little spot my old master showed me." Darron leans forward, becoming more animated as he speaks. "Most bogs take 20 to 30 years to regenerate, but this one only takes 5. It's good quality stuff too. You can get fist-size chunks with nothing but a shovel."

  Darron proceeds to give a lecture about bogs for the next 30 minutes. Not going to lie, I stopped paying attention after 5. Yeah, Sorry Darron. I'm never going to need to know about how the water table and plant life affects the iron quantities in lowland wetlands. Instead, Pop and I got a few games of liar dice in.

  "Lair!" I shout at Pop's claim of five 6's.

  Information relevant to user Unnamed Dungeon is being discussed. WEEB system returning to standby mode.

  "Oh no you don't. You get back here and show me what dice you had." I say, as Pop's screen disappears, leaving me face to face with Darron. "Right. I forgot we were doing this."

  "So I introduced her to some elves. Some of them can speak to animals, so I figured they'd know what all your bats' squeaking was about." Darron snorts and shakes his head. "They're a weird bunch, those elves. Most of them live out in the forest. It makes them hard to find at the best of times." Darron looks up at the ceiling and lets out a long breath before returning his eyes to my core. "I thought that was the end of it, but then, one day, they just walked into my store. They came in, bought everything I had, and offered me a bunch of gold for my shop. I took it, of course. I'd be mad not to." Darron chuckles to himself as he picks up a square hammer. "I had more coin than I knew what to do with." He says, turning the worn handle in his hand. "It was awful."

  "If you're looking for sympathy, you've come to the wrong place, buddy." I say, adopting my most sarcastic voice. "Woe is me, I'm too rich. Please God, save me from this torment. All this money makes it hard to keep my pants up."

  Darron brings the hammer down on the table a few times, tapping the table with rhythmic blows. "This young elf in cheap armour piped up. Said there was a city in the middle of nowhere that produced the best ore in the world." Darron brought his hammer down hard, making my former home rattle. "Stupid whelp. Did he really think any blacksmith worth his salt wouldn't know about Brollyn's kingdom?" Darron snorts with a shake of his head. "I’ve been wanting to go there ever since I first picked up a hammer, but travelling has always been hard on me."

  With a grumble, Darron gets up from his chair, grabbing the second piece of ore as he stands. "I'm not great with change." He says, tossing the hunk of unrefined metal into the glowing mouth of his forge. "Or people." Darron stares into the forge, the flames bursting to life as he feeds it with a large bellows. "I've never been good with people. They're too complicated." With a long sigh, he turns to me and drags a hand over the back of his neck. "I got swindled a lot as a lad, so I found it easier to just do everything myself."

  I let out a series of distorted tones as Pop's blue screen jump scares me once again. "Damn it, Pop. Do I need to get you a bell, or something?"

  All available data suggest Darron is suffering from a neurodivergent disorder. Do you wish to add this information to his profile?

  "What? No, and stop making profiles of people." I say, mentally waving away the blue screen before I miss any more of Darron's story. Pop's screen disappears with a loud buzzer that sounds suspiciously like blowing a raspberry. "Aren't you supposed to be an emotionless AI?" I say, returning its gesture with a raspberry of my own.

  With the little blue interloper banished, I return my focus to Darron. "Once the elves agreed not to bother me, I accepted." He says, turning the now glowing ore with a long pair of tongs. "A single gold coin for a cart to myself was too good a deal to pass up." With a shake of his head, he points to my old scepter. "They had it all planned from the start. They knew that thing would bug the hell out of me, and the old skinflint would want it remade at some point. Who better to do the job than one of the best blacksmiths in the dwarven kingdom?" He laughs and slaps his knee. "My father would be furious with me if he found out. The man might not have any practical skills, but there's not a creature alive that could take advantage of him."

  Darron shoves some fresh coal onto the fire and gives the bellows a few pumps. "That should do it." He says as he returns to his chair beside me. "I've got a proposition for you, Mr. Core. If I help free you, you let me keep this floor for my work." Darron raises his soot-covered hands into the air. "Before you say no, I get that you're a dungeon, and you need to do your thing. I don't mind if you put monsters or whatever here, as long as they don’t get in my way. All I want is to be left alone with my work." Darron stretches out his hand towards me and gives me an awkward smile. "Do we have a deal?" A long silence hangs in the air until he realizes his mistake. "Right, you don’t have hands and you can't speak." Darron's cheeks flush red, the floor beneath him suddenly becoming very interesting to him. "Sorry."

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  I giggle at the grown dwarf now acting like a scolded 4-year-old in front of me. "Man, this is bringing back some memories. The engineer corps would have loved you, Darron." I shake my vision back and forth and let out a contented sigh. "It's a deal, my friend." I say, turning my vision towards the forge. "Pop, if you're done pouting, I need a way to communicate with this guy. Any thoughts?"

  Pops blue screen appears to my right.

  Processing.................

  Analyzing results............

  Calculating...............

  Scanning sub systems..............

  Reorganizing user data.............

  Repairing hurt feelings..............

  I groan as more and more lines of useless, passive-aggressive text appear on the screen. "Pop, I'm sorry I was short with you. Please forgive me."

  The little blue screen clears and turns red.

  There are currently 0 ways to communicate without external interference.

  "What about that messaging thing we did with Lady Fluffy Butt? Couldn't we use that?"

  The message system is for internal communication only. It broadcasts a message to all minions and contracted creatures. Any lifeform not bonded to user Unnamed Dungeon is unable to hear it.

  "Fantastic. I finally find someone willing to help, and I've got no way of telling them I agree. Why does it feel like I’m always behind the 8 ball?"

  Darron places a hand on top of me. "If you don't mind, I think I might have a way for us to communicate." Darron closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. “I’m going to pass some of my mana through you. You won't be able to absorb it, but it should give you a bit of a glow that you can control. If you agree to my deal, you can flicker and I’ll take that as a yes. If you don’t, then do nothing, and I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Pop, can we do that? Please tell me we can do that.”

  Pop’s screen clears and turns green.

  Yes, the WEEB system can perform the action as described.

  Would you like to perform this action?

  Note: performing this action will add the Ally tag to Darron's profile and all future WEEB system interactions.

  "Score one for the good guys! Pop, make my ball flicker." I say, grumbling at my choice of words. "Gross. I need to start thinking before I speak."

  As Darron’s mana flows into me, a warmth spreads throughout my body. "Oh, wow. That's so good." I say, feeling like I’m getting my first big breath after gasping for air for the longest time. "Pop, why does this feel so good?"

  Pop's screen appears, its brightness changing as it alters the mana flow.

  Mana received from external sources can not be stored and is at the discretion of the WEEB system. All mana not used for illumination is currently being used to improve user Unnamed Dungeon's mental state.

  I bask in the feeling; the mana warming me like a lizard in the sun. "You're too good to me, Pop. I'm sorry I'm mean to you sometimes. I don't mean it."

  Darron laughs as he removes his hand, the warmth fading along with my glow. "So you are in there!" He says with a booming laugh that makes the golems pause. "Back to it, you lot. I'm going to need all of you to work extra hard if we're going to free your master." The golems raise both of their arms into the air before shuffling off with renewed vigor. "Would you look at that? I've tried everything to get those things to move quicker. Did you do this, Mr. Core?"

  "Um, no? I don't think so? Hang on, I'll ask."

  Before I have a chance, Pop's screen appears below Darron's face.

  All minions other than Lady Fluffy Butt are under the control of user Brollyn. To claim control of these minions, please recapture this floor.

  Before I can give a pointless reply Darron can't hear, he continues. "Alright, here's the plan. I’ll enchant the new scepter to undo the slave magic. I can’t break it without a very particular piece of equipment, but we can peel the magic away bit by bit." Darron rubs his chin, his singed beard creating a cloud of dust. "The big question is what to do about King Brollyn. He’ll start losing control of your powers as the crest starts to fail."

  "Is that bad? It feels like that could be bad. You got a plan to make sure that doesn't happen?"

  "Now. Who could we blame this on?" Darron looks up towards the ceiling again and lets out a long breath. "Got it! I can make it look like the Dungeon Guild is trying to take over the city. The old bastard hates those guys." Darron nods with enthusiasm, a glint returning to his eyes.

  "You're going off on another tangent, aren't you?" I say, bracing myself for what will in no doubt be another endless lecture.

  "This could work. I can use a couple of fire bat teeth to mount you to the scepter, as well. With the right enchantment, they’ll go brittle when you’re free enough to reclaim this place." Darron runs over to a sack in the corner of the room, muttering to himself as he digs through it. "Now, where did I put those things? No. no. Not those. Nope." He says, flinging different creature bits all over the floor before letting out a small. "There you are, and it looks like I’ve got 4 of them."

  With fire in his eyes, he jogs back to the table and slams the pointed teeth next to me, his face now beaming. "Check these babies out. They look just like hatchling dragon teeth, but can hold a much larger enchantment. When these break, the king will bring you to me, and I’ll hand you over to your little friends here." He says, gesturing towards the golems lumbering around. “Oh yes! This will be my finest work! I’m finally going to be able to create a true masterpiece.”