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

“Heard some stories about this particular dungeon,” said the first.

“About the core in it.”

“Bad stories,” said the third.

They each took another drink.

“Heard there’s another dungeon in Fosfleet. An easier one. If we score a cart ride, we’d be there in a day.”

“We could class our trip to Yondersun as a holiday, p’rhaps?”

“We’ve earned a break.”

“Aye,” they all said.

They finished their drinks.

Willy, who was wiping the bar counter with a cloth, as innkeepers tended to do more often than was probably necessary, called over. “Another drink, lads?”

“What do ya reckon?” said the first. “Few more beers? Skip this dungeon and go to the easier one in Fosfleet?”

“I promised Sandra I wouldn’t get hurt this time, so mebbe, aye.”

“Works for me,” answered the third.

“Aye,” they all said.

I floated by them. When they saw me, they watched me with wide-eyes and were visibly relieved when Willy walked over with fresh tankards of beer and gave them something else to focus on.

I headed over to a man sitting in the corner of the tavern, opposite from where Brecht tapped his tambourine and Gary played his lute. The man wore a ridiculous hat, ridiculous shirt, and even more ridiculous winkle pickers.

“Beno!” called Gulliver. “Didn’t expect to see you here! Come on, pull up a…have a nice float next to me, my friend.”

The kobold and spider monster finished their song, prompting Gulliver to break into wild applause. “Keep ‘em coming, boys!”

Before I could reach Gull, a man appeared in front of me.

The man was almost a giant, and his tanned scalp was as bare as the wasteland. His apron was covered in stone dust, and his muscled arms hinted at a lifetime of hard graft.

“Ten-Toes?” I said.

He scratched his chin nervously.

“Er, Core Beno. I just wanted to say…I think lots of us want to say…we don’t know what came over us. With all that No-Core stuff, I mean. The songs, and all that. I…er…makes me feel ashamed, when I think about it. I know other folks wanted to say the same, but they were…er…scared to go into your dungeon. Not that we think it’s dangerous…that is to say, we do think it’s dangerous, but we know you wouldn’t try to murder us or nothin’…”

“A person who keeps chasing a grudge runs straight by the good things in life. I learned that from the tragedy of a man named Cael demons-damned Pickering. Forget it, Ten-Toes.”

“Can I get you a drink? Do cores even…er…can you…”

“Thank you, Ten-Toes, but I’m fine. Get back to your apprentices and enjoy your evening.”

The stonemason ambled back to his table, where his three gnome and orc apprentices lifted their tankards to me.

“Good to see you, Beno. I thought you’d be busy,” said Gulliver, when I joined him.

“Never too busy to chat with my pal.”

“Well, I plan on being unable to talk intelligibly very soon, so you picked the right time.”

“I just wanted to thank you, Gulliver.”

“Oh, come off it.”

“I mean it. For your advice, for listening to my rants, for kicking me up the arse when I needed it. And for your propaganda, obviously.”

He shrugged. “What friends do, isn’t it?”

“There was something I want to do for you, actually,” I said. “Not that it’s a favor; I can’t think of anyone else better suited than you. With Mimic Dullbright in place as my proxy, I want to start changing things in Hogsfeate. Try and make the populace more receptive to cores, kobolds, angry elemental jellies, and the like. But it’s going to look strange, Dullbright having such a sudden and strong change of heart. I’ll need someone to ease the people into it.”

“Ah. More propaganda.”

“Yes, but not just leaflets. I’ll need someone in charge of that kind of thing on a more regular basis. I'll require a head of public communications, in other words.”

“Me?”

“Who else? There’s nobody more qualified, and you said you wanted to start taking easier jobs, but you still needed a challenge.”

“Beno,” said Gulliver, smile beaming, “I accept your offer. And now, I’m going to get a lot drunker than I had planned. It’s time to celebrate! Brecht, Gary…play on! Willy, keep my tankard topped up until I start singing saucy ballads!”

Two guards were standing either side of the door to the Yondersun meeting room. One stared straight behind me, trying desperately to maintain the level of concentration Reginal and Galatee demanded of their sentries.

The other was a teenager with green skin and three eyes and was considerably more muscled since the last time I had seen him. This guard made no effort to appear stoic, and instead grinned wide.

“Core Beno! This one is delighted to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too, Warrane. How are things?”

“This one was promoted, Core Beno. He is now a part of the chiefs’ sentry unit.”

“Ah yes, that promotion every man dreams of; getting chosen to keep a watchful eye on your do-nothing higher-ups.”

“This one sees great honor in such service, Beno. Perhaps one day the core will understand what honor means.”

We stared at each other then.

I was the first to crack, unable to keep myself from laughing. “Ah, I miss having you around the dungeon, Warrane. Wylie and Tomlin would love to see you.”

“When this one gets time, he will come.”

“Good.”

“And Beno…this one sees that you can float!”

“You know what, Warrane? You’re only the second bloody person to notice.”

A voice spoke to us from behind the door.

“Beno? Get your arse in here! We’re waiting to start the meeting.”

 The stoic guard opened the door, and Warrane nodded at me as I floated by and into the meeting room. It was my first visit to the chiefs’ meeting place, and I was surprised, to say the