Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series) Alex Oakchest (list of ebook readers .TXT) 📖

Two guards wandered over to us. Evidently, Hogsfeate didn’t select its guards based on physical fitness. One was red in the face when they reached us, and the other wiped crumbs from his chainmail.

“Everything alright, Pvat?” said a guard.

“Does it look like it? We have a core floating around our town.”

Before the guard had time to say anything, I cut in.

“I already looked at your town law charters. There’s nothing that prevents a core from accessing any part of Hogsfeate. You can check it with your pals over by the gates, but it would be a waste of everyone’s time.”

“Is he right?” one guard asked the other.

“Dunno, mate.”

“Right of entry to Hogsfeate town boundaries,” I quoted from memory. “All civilized people and races enjoy right of entry, subject to criminal records, bounties, and purpose of visit. Exceptions; monsters of sufficient violence, demons unaccompanied by relevant warlocks, and tax collectors.”

“Sounds true, but I dunno much about the law,” said a guard.

Pvat’s forehead scrunched so much it looked like an elephant’s arse. “He’s selling you a cart full of crap. He’s a damned core, for gods’ sakes! He’s the living embodiment of a demon!”

“Really, Pvat?” I said. “Embodiment of a demon? Such superstition from a member of the heroes’ guild…you should know better than that. I’m no more a demon than you are a competent swordsman. Anyway, you can check the charter for yourself. Section 2.5, under Immigration and Freedom of Movement.”

The guards exchanged looks, before one said, “Sorry, Pvat. I never heard of banning someone just because they float and they’re made of rock.”

Pvat walked away, muttering to himself. I watched him thread his way through the crowded plaza, his shoulders trembling with anger.

“You just made yourself another enemy,” Gulliver. “You’re rather good at that.”

“It’s something of a skill, being universally hated. I’d like to say that at least the instructors at the academy liked me, but Overseer Bolton was my favorite teacher, and I managed to make an enemy of him.”

“I think you’re alright, for a core, and I’ve met all sorts of wretched people. I wouldn’t worry about being liked, you know. Trying to dictate what people think of you is like trying to control the weather.”

“Truth be told, a core isn’t meant to have any friends at all. Not even in our dungeon. It’s frowned upon to befriend your own creatures because it makes it harder to send them to get slaughtered by heroes. I think that’s part of why Overseer Bolton has been disappointed in me since I left the academy.”

“That, and you blackmailed him once. Hey, see that?” Gulliver pointed across the plaza. “Who’s the bloke walking over to Pvat?”

He was right; way across the plaza, a man had approached Pvat and was talking to him, taking shift looks this way and that.

“It’s Claus,” I said. “I don’t like that.”

“Let’s find the mage, then. I suppose there will be other chances to visit a tavern.”

Mage Hardere conducted business from a tower, like most mages. His was no construction of ivory or marble, as most of them preferred. Instead, Hardere must have bought the chimney from an old factory, possibly a bakery, and had painted it to give an ivory effect. A sign just above the door read ‘Mage Hardere – Spells, Scrolls, & Scones. No love potions, hexes, or curses. I am NOT a witch. Anyone requesting such services will be burned to cinders.’

“Seems like a nice, rational fella,” I said. “You choose your friends well.”

“He isn’t my friend, Beno. I barely know the man. You’d do well not to get too friendly with a mage. But don’t annoy them, either.”

We stood in front of the door for a few seconds in silence.

“Aren’t you going to knock?” I said.

“What am I, your slave?”

“I don’t have hands.”

“I need mine to write! Would you ask a…uh…mask model...to...uh…use his face to knock on a door?”

“Gulliver…”

“Fine.”

Gulliver blew on his knuckles and gave the door the most delicate of taps. A hatch opened on the top half of the door, and a goblin stuck its head out. It had three diamond studs in its ear.

“Closed!” it said, before closing the hatch and disappearing.

“We’re here to see the wizard,” I said.

No answer.

“Gull, knock again.”

Tap-tap-tap.

The hatch opened, and this time I floated up and rested against it, pinning it back to the door so the goblin couldn’t shut it. The goblin stared at me, forehead furrowed. He had the fluffiest eyebrows I had ever seen, whether that be on a man, goblin, or even an owl.

“We’re here to see the wizard,” I repeated.

“Master is a mage, not a wizard.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Can I refer to you as a lump of rock instead of a core?” asked the goblin.

“Fair point. Could we please speak with Mage Hardere?”

“He’s busy with an appointment.”

“Can we see him after?”

The goblin sucked in his cheeks. “Ooh, might be a while. We are currently assisting a gentleman who needs not one but four cursed nipples removing. Come back when the cock crows five.”

“At five o’clock, you mean?”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you said it in a stupid, and unnecessary way. People use watches and timepieces, goblin. Nobody tells the time by listening to crows cocking these days.”

“Cocks crowing, actually,” said Gulliver.

Just then came the sound of a cock crowing twelve times, announcing to the whole of Hogsfeate that it was midday. The noise came from the roof of the tower, where a magnificent poultry paced to and fro, puffing its feathery chest and shrieking.

Gulliver and I walked away from the tower, hearing a hatch slam shut behind us. “I suppose we’re going to be in Hogsfeate longer than I liked after all,” I said.

“Then that means…”

“Fine.