Chapter 72: The Abble Tree Root Cellar 2 – The Return To The Dungeon

  Theo neglected his ‘homework’ for the rest of the night, keeping Grace company instead. Before night fell, he showed Rocky the marked area where the odd stone could be found in a rather large supply, the limits or depth of which Theo himself didn’t know.

  Rocky gawked at the size, claiming he’d be filthy rich—then remembered it was the town’s deposit, and that he worked for the town. Of course, reacting this way led to Theo’s need for proper clarification regarding the man’s sudden gain—and loss—of believed wealth.

  The stone, colloquially called Church stone or sometimes Grace skin—he’d save that for a rainy day—was valued as a pure form of stone. As a miner, Rocky couldn’t see why it would be any purer than anything else, but the churches all over the continent swore by it and claimed it was the closest stone to Arcana, whatever that meant.

  Jemma’s future in Sigil Lake was tossed into limbo, as she’d tied her staying to Rocky and given it a week, but then Theo had found stone for him to work with. As a smith, she had little to no use for stone. Theo would have to see what could be done about that later. He might still find other metals, but iron didn’t seem to be nearby. Maybe he could tweak the range of the ‘Search’ ‘Target’ spell combination, but he’d look at it later.

  The next morning, Theo and Grace both rose bright and early. Theo had been up half the night already, listening to Grace’s nightmares brought back to the surface with Chaste’s surprise visit. While still sharing a room and their relationship heading towards something, they had both slept in their own beds. Things were complicated enough already, and they both had plenty to do that required their attention.

  Grace joined him in watering his plants before they headed for breakfast. Another delicious meal downed in a hurry, they later headed towards the dungeon. It had been a while since Theo was there last, and while the first time had been quite the learning experience, the second time, and this third time, was more leisurely inclined. In fact, Theo only joined now to have some alone time with Grace, as per their bet. She wanted to talk with him in private. There was nowhere else as private as a dungeon.

  Theo admired Grace as she was back to wearing her battle equipment, the pretty blue shirt accompanied by a long skirt with almost equally long slits along the side—a must for her particular combat style which just so happened to show off her body in a way Theo struggled to avoid gawking at.

  They headed down the conspicuous hatch formed from nothing in the forest ground, Grace before Theo as they climbed the staircase.

  You have entered a Dungeon: Abble Tree Root Cellar

  Root Cellar (Dungeon):

  Age: Adolescent

  Growth: Cultivating

  Type: Production + Danger

  Origin: The Abble Tree Root Cellar, grown from a single seed; the last of its kind in the forest above, seeks the renewal of its kind. Danger lurks within its domain, for how else can it protect its future offspring?

  “Do you remember the first time we went down here together?” Grace asked as she waited for his more awkward attempt at descending the tight stairs.

  He landed, accepting her hand as she, just like last time, reached out to support his landing. “How could I forget? I think it was the first time I met the real you.”

  “The real me?” she asked, curious.

  “I remember you wanting to hear my story, seeming genuinely interested in what I had to say and not going out of your way to tease me or Wen.”

  The hatch shut itself behind them, sending dust descending from the rooty roof.

  “What can I say? You intrigued me even back then.” Her lips quirked up. “Funny that now it’s reversed, isn’t it?”

  “How so?”

  “Now, you’re here to hear my story. I might’ve strong-armed you into joining me down here, so I might as well tell it right.”

  “As much or as little detail as you’re comfortable with, remember? I don’t want to force you.”

  “Theo, your ability to force me to do anything is non-existent,” Grace giggled. “Now, let’s go.”

  The pair ventured onward, leaving the safety of the small entrance cavern of the dungeon. Theo remembered the root-filled walls that somehow contained the tons of dirt and stone from collapsing onto them, and the various blades of light that, for some inexplicable reason, got through it all to shine some light on the ground or the walls, allowing some wild growths to bloom.

  Grace had explained that the dungeon itself wasn’t truly a part of the world outside, and upon entering it, they had shifted from Aera—the planet, not the continent, but Theo supposed that, too—to the dungeon. The world, this time not as the sphere of dirt, but the entity behind the odd things and skills Theo was certain was magic, still had access, though. It just shifted its responsibility over to the dungeon.

  As Theo remained nothing but a guest down here despite his Level One dungeoneering skill, Grace had no qualms devastating the poor Treens that stumbled upon them in the ever-swaying tunnels. Like the previous times, Theo ogled Grace as she fought, not for any nefarious or perverted reasons, but to glimpse those flashes of light that occurred when she fought or blink-stepped. Her fighting style was also dizzyingly captivating to watch, and her light and loose clothing allowed him glimpses of skin she’d otherwise not gallivant around to reveal. But, uh, the lights and the fighting.

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  Taking down the first pair of Treens, Grace started her story as the pair harvested the abbles from their sawdust remains. Theo thought she’d been extra hard on her enemies as opposed to earlier, but he could also see she wasn’t too comfortable telling her story. Still, she did.

  “My first few years, I was raised and taken care of in a small church far from Ercheat. I don’t remember where, or even its name, nor what religion it belonged to. I never knew my mother or my father, only the clerics that took care of me. It must’ve been a small city, or maybe a town—there weren’t many other kids there studying that I can recall. I might’ve been four, maybe five, when the clerics handed me off to someone else, and I was brought to Ercheat. They never talked to me on our travels, only left me tied up in the back of a carriage.

  “When I saw Ercheat, my heart skipped a beat, then another. I’d never seen anything so grand, so beautiful. The decorated streets were lined with tall buildings, with spires, towers, terraces and whatever else you can fit high on a building. There were hanging gardens and colourful walls. They brought me to a grand cathedral, a tall statue of Arcana standing guard at its entrance. It was painted, I think, or it was so vivid and lifelike that it seemed to be.”

  Grace stood up, holding the last abble of the pile of sticks and dust in her hand. Theo said nothing as he rose, and they started walking down the winding path once more. He’d otherwise say it sounded beautiful, but he knew enough of her past to know it was anything but. Still, Ercheat sounded wonderful, if he excluded the church…and the queen.

  “Tossing me out of the carriage, the cleric in charge of my indoctrination pulled me up by my hair and held me aloft in front of him. I cried, I think. He scoffed and threw me down on the steps of the cathedral once more, telling me to walk. I did. I bowed to Arcana as I passed her, as I’d been taught to do. Sometimes I hoped she’d wave at me, smile at me, but at that moment, I wished she didn’t see me. I didn’t want her to think her servants so crude.

  “Inside, it was just like I pictured it; so big, so white, so inspiring. If this was my new home, I thought, I’d be happy to serve Arcana despite the other clerics. After they washed the travel from my body, about as heavy-handed as you’d imagine, they examined every inch of me. With their approval, saying I’d do well, I was sent to a room they locked me inside for several nights.”

  As Grace recounted her experience, Theo couldn’t help but look her way, scanning her face for signs of anger, depression, tears—anything. She remained stoic, though her voice wavered now and then before she steeled herself once more, as if she remembered she was tougher than that. Theo hated that.

  “When they brought me outside, I started my lessons. This was another religion, I figured, devoted to Arcana, sure, but another side of her. They spoke of the Voice and Arcana’s connection to the wind that turns the world, claiming it to be Aera’s namesake. As a little girl, I questioned their beliefs, not to be crass, but because I’d been taught differently all my life. They beat me and whipped me bloody, and only after that, they taught me there were many religions out there. The High-Cleric of the Voice of the Wind stopped the other clerics from harming me more that day—damaging it would be detrimental.”

  Theo commented for the first time, and said, “Chaste said they called you it, as well. Why not acknowledge you as a girl, or at least a person?”

  She shrugged. “It’ll become more apparent later. I’ll skip ahead some.”

  Her body blinked away and a resounding crunch of wood exploded from further ahead. Splinters and debris flew past Theo, even from a good distance away. He jogged ahead to catch back up to her and help in collecting the abbles.

  “Is trading children something churches normally do?” asked Theo as he dug through the pile of wood.

  “Not that I’m aware.”

  Finishing the looting, Theo noticed the faintest glimmer in the pile. He’d seen it before, twice: once after Chaste had burned that horrible squirrel to death, and a second time after the razing of Brook Town, though that time, the glimmer was larger. To be sure, he asked if Grace could see it, but as he thought, she couldn’t. So, he reached down and touched it. The glimmering sigil chimed, and Theo felt something inside him stir. He knew a trait of his had activated, but how he knew was what he couldn’t explain.

  A light object appeared in his hand, and he held it up between himself and Grace. It resembled a piece of chocolate based on its dark colour, but egg-shaped and decorated with bulging dots.

  “What’s that?”

  Item: Abble Tree Acorn

  “An acorn.”

  “How does an abble tree drop an acorn? Is it a seed? Aren’t the seeds in the abbles enough?”

  She was right. Out of respect for the dungeon, Sigil Lake hadn’t tried planting an orchard from the abbles dropped in the dungeon, and Grace was sure it wouldn’t work. But would the acorn work? Since it was a drop, not a harvest, it might. How the sigil got involved, Theo couldn’t tell, either, but Grace had never found an acorn in there.

  As the acorn popped into his other-dimensional seed storage, he smiled. “Seed confirmed.”

  “Odd thing for a dungeon to provide us with the means to farm its goods from outside,” she muttered. “Unless…”

  “I don’t have to ask, do I?” Theo teased.

  “A dungeon might provide somewhat unique benefits when it nears expansion to gain an influx of delvers, but it’s too young to do that now, I think. Young, in dungeon terms, meaning inexperienced or sparsely delved.”

  “Well, I’ll take it. I have a nice plot for this.”

  “And if it’s a trap? What if that acorn grows a dungeon monster?”

  “Can that happen?”

  “No,” she laughed, then pulled him along to walk again. “Where was I?”

  “Churches are stupid and the clerics are the worst,” Theo said.

  “Good, you got the gist of it, then. Skipping ahead some, the church didn’t really do anything to me the next few months. They beat me when I acted out or spoke out of turn, and still locked me up at night while limiting my time with other children, but I grew accustomed to it—such was life in the big city churches, I figured.”

  “From a five-year-old child, that’s a grim outlook on life,” Theo interjected.

  “It’s a big world, Theo. Things happen. People and places are all different from one another. I learned it the hard way, but I suppose I could be called scrappy even back then. I tried not to let it faze me. Eventually, most of it didn’t.”

  “The one thing I both admire and hate about you,” Theo said.

  “Not everyone can afford to be as lackadaisical as you, Theo. Some of us—”

  “—spend most of our lives in sickness and pain, knowing we’re going to die sooner rather than later, and just wait for it?” he asked.

  Grace fell silent. She stopped, leading Theo to stop a few steps later. He turned to face her, and she was visibly upset.

  “I forgot…I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t be. I became me, and you became you. We both let it shape us differently. And we’re talking about you now, not me. Come on,” he said. He reached out his hand for her to hold. She took it, smiling despite her guilty eyes.

  “So, what happened next?”

  “Sad childhood out of the way,” she started, looking ahead as they walked. Her thumb fidgeted in Theo’s palm. “Let’s skip ahead to how the church started shaping me into a weapon of mass destruction.”