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other miners. That wasn’t really a surprise, given that in Yondersun there existed a thing called a tavern, which served a chemical composition known as booze. There was also a cuckoo clock shop that the kobolds were strangely enamored with. They could spend hours watching through the window, celebrating every time a cuckoo popped out of a clock. I was planning to buy them some, actually.

“If you go to Yondersun, then keep a low profile,” I said. “Some of the townsfolk are still iffy about us. Stay away from the No-Cores, and don’t make drunken fools of us. I won’t have you bringing shame on our dungeon.”

“Yes, Dark Lord.”

“We go to Scorched Scorpion,” said one. “Then to the Sand Rat. Then…”

Wylie blocked the tunnel archway, arms folded. “Not so fast. What Wylie tell you?”

“Store tools in inventory chamber before shift ends.”

“Correct.”

“Yes, supervisor Wylie.”

My kobolds scuttled away, leaving me in the freshly-excavated chamber on a completely new level of the dungeon. This newest part of my dungeon was also the largest, and it had taken Wylie and his crew – minus Maginhart who was now studying with Cynthia – three full days to dig it out. That spoke a lot about how laborious a job it was, given how experienced Wylie and Tarius were in their mining craft.

This chamber was on the level beneath the main chambers of my dungeon, accessed by a slope that led down from the loot room. Much of this first chamber on level two was taken up by a pool of water sourced from an underground spring. The water was murky and uninviting, but it was impossible to find crystal-clear waters in a dungeon.

“Will this suit you?” I said.

Razensen lumbered toward me, decorated with dung poultices spread over the half dozen of his battle wounds. He surveyed the chamber.

“It’ll do, stone. Better than going to the ice.”

“Better than being on the wasteland, too. It should be cool enough for you down here.”

“I shall not be staying forever. Mark that.”

“You can come and go as you please. Use this place as a base while you search for your brother so you can send him to the snow, or whatever. But if any heroes attack when you’re here, I expect you to defend the dungeon.”

“Yetz. Clear as frost.”

“And when I am ready to attack Cael, you will come with me, no matter what you are doing at the time. No refusals, no objections.”

“Yetz, Stone. I understand. A worm baking under the sun doesn’t have much choice than to accept the shade he’s given.”

“Good, then we understand each other. Tell me, why exactly do you want to kill your brother so badly?”

“I don’t.”

“If you don’t want to kill him, there are easier ways of not killing someone, than by chasing them around the wasteland and trying to kill them.”

“I don’t want to kill him, Stone. I have to. It is a matter of honor. Parricide can only be righted by murder.”

“Your brother killed one of your parents?”

“Both of them,” said Razensen. “Sent them both to the ice after I was laid up with lungworm and couldn’t stop him. My skin was aflame. Every breath was fire in my heart. He took it to mind that it was the perfect time to send my parents to the ice, and then send me to follow them. Clear the line of succession.”

“Succession? So you are…what? Royalty?”

“Yetz. My mother was the Grand Star of our lands.”

Demons below, the things that power does to people. I’d like to say it astounded me, but in actual fact, I would have been more surprised to hear a story where the promise of power didn’t corrupt someone.

Using my well-honed emotional intelligence, I decided this situation called for something described as empathy.

“I am sorry to hear that your brother murdered your parents, Razensen. That must have been upsetting for you.”

Was that enough empathy for the situation? Had I said the right things? It was so difficult to gauge.

He stomped over to the pool of water, sat next to it, and put his toes in. He kicked his legs gently, sending ripples through it. “Well, Stone, once an avalanche has fallen you can’t put the snow back on the mountain. Nothing will change what I must do.”

“But if you were ill when your brother tried to kill you, then what happened? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t look dead.”

“You do not treat going to the ice as sacred like most people, do you? I like that very much. There is no room for sadness in leaving this world. We will all do it sometime. ”

“When you’ve already died once, it loses its intrigue.”

“You went to the ice, Stone?”

“Cores can only be made with resurrected souls. Didn’t you know?”

“We do not have such things in the south. No cores, no resurrection. When you go to the ice, you stay there for good. My brother thought he had done for me, but he did not make sure. When you decide to murder someone, have the brains to make sure they are dead, I always say.”

Razensen lifted his great paws and parted his fur on his neck, revealing pink skin with a terrible looking scar besmirching it. Holy underworlds! It looked like his brother had tried to cut his damned head off completely.

“You were lucky to survive something like that,” I said.

“Yetz. But he will not be. Now, Stone, I wish that you leave me. I will swim for a while.”

Razensen pushed himself forward, plunging into the pool. He disappeared into the water, becoming a dark shape under the surface before reappearing amidst a spray of water on the other side. Then he dove again, before re-surfacing. Diving. Re-surfacing. It became clear that this wasn’t just for exercise, but

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