"10! It's 10!"

Istvan shouted with great conviction, a smile filled with relief stretched across his face as he met the saintess' gaze, which was quickly dampening his fervour as she was sporting a frown.

 

"WRONG DUM-DUM!" 

 

Dolos expressed great joy as he swatted his cane like a golf-club, one of four ropes immediately tore as Ian's footing destabilized, causing him to choke and gurgle upon his own saliva and air before he managed to find his footing once more.

 

"6."

 

The cane fell, banging and clanging around as his prior exhilaration was immediately killed off. Dolos' ability to instantly shift between moods and persona sent shivers down Robin's spine as she continued to observe him, finding it increasingly difficult to learn which face was real and what exactly were his intentions.

 

"Meh, whatever, that was only the warm up stage anyways~" With the tips of his leather monk shoes, he toe-punted his golden cane out of sight, his brows clenched as if greatly annoyed, uncaringly grinning whilst saliva leaked and dripped down his chin, his sanity became evermore crooked as Istvan failed to read the man's body language.

 

Stomping and smearing away the puddle of spit, as if it were a cigeratte butt, a new golden-cane emerged out of the equally golden ring that snugly fitted his thumb.

 

"Silver, brass, bronze, gold,

Given, bought, stolen, sold,

Symbols of wealth, power, or love,

Forged like a sword, fits like a glove.

What am I?"

 

Robin Sol shot a deathly-stare towards Istvan, making it extremely clear to him that he should keep his mouth zipped.

 

"This isn't an answer, but, can we talk between ourselves? To discuss?"

 

"Yes Madame and monsieur, you may talk amongst yourselves~" Dolos's golden cane was balancing upon itself, as fine china wobbled around on top of it, Dolos casually sipped upon a cup of tea as he ignored the struggles his cane was going through. Watching, patiently observing the two who whispered to one and another as if he couldn't hear.

 

"Well. What do you think?"

"It's clearly money isn't it? I do remember reading old records that spoke of old kingdoms utilizing brass and bronze as their currency, before we started using copper and silver. As for gold... whilst they aren't in the form of coins, the kingdom's treasury has stocks of gold-bars, which is used exclusively for trade with other kingdoms, or for the royal family's furniture. Which symbolizes both the kingdom's wealth and power."

 

"Okay... But, is money or gold forged like a sword? And fits like a glove?"

"I guess, when the coins are minted, we do hammer it similar to how a blacksmith would hammer and beat swords. As for the glove..."

 

"What of accessories?" Robin continued to gaze into the templar's eyes, analysing the emotions and thoughts spurring within. Equally, she kept an eye on Dolos through the corners of her sight, occasionally catching the man in the top-hat grinning, smirking and frowning.

"A ring?" Istvan questioned, quite certain as he had seen rings crafted during his past routine-inspections, but wasn't confident enough to risk another piece of rope. Looking to the saintess in hopes that she would have an input herself.

 

Having kept an eye on Dolos, Robin felt quite confident as the man was grinning from ear to ear, as if he wanted them to conclude upon a ring. 

 

"The answer is a ring, correct?"

 

Dolos's fervour returned, as he revealed a dastardly smile that exposed his fangs, he plucked the cane away, leaving the fine china to its fate as gravity claimed it. Laughing, chuckling and knocking his arms back to perform another golf-swing, he swung his cane once more. However, as Istvan held his breath in wait, no rope tore as Dolos immediately turned around and broke his cane in two upon his knee.

 

"YOU TWO ARE THE WORSE FUCKING GUESTS I'VE EVER FUCKING HAD!"

 

 

His voice so loud, it slapped hard bass into their chests and ear-drums, forcing them a few steps back regardless of footing, as his vocals echoed through the great-hall. The hall shook in response to its master's emotions, throwing the two off-balance as they were forced to stabilize themselves. When the rumbling was over, and they were free to return their gazes back upon Dolos. The man in the top hat was once more pristine, fresh, calm and enjoying his cup of tea that now had fractures creeping across its fine-white surface.

 

 

As if his prior outburst had never occurred, he continued to sip upon the empty cup, pretending to enjoy a delicacy that soothed him.

 

 

"Einhoren, Vena, Montt, Draftt, Par'Talucca, Armenes and ahem*... What building has the most stories?"

 

 

Dolos continued to casually sip upon nothing, as the cracks no longer leaked any substance, not knowing whether the man in the top hat was knowingly and deliberately showing them such details, Robin could only look to Istvan to once more bounce ideas upon one and another.

 

"The royal palace, the castles, manors and villas Whilst they're high, they're more focused on creating underground living-spaces and dungeons... I apologise Lady Sol... Perhaps it is one of the towers in Via Marea?"

Robin nodded, taking in his input whilst thinking of her experiences as she had the opportunity to travel with Asai to visit every kingdom known thus far. Crossing out the academies, colleges and spiral towers from Via Marea and Ignis, and ignoring the stone structures from Draftt, Robin's answer landed upon Par'Talucca's royal palace. Which stood higher and provided more floors than every other building she had flown around thus far.

 

"The royal palace of Par'Talucca." With a stoic face, void of emotion, she gave her answer as she continued to try read Dolos'.

 

Exhaling deeply, exaggeratingly long, Dolos hid the fractured tea-cup inside his top-hat before nodding his head in defeat. 

"I-I guess, that was too easy for you huh?" Picking up one half of his golden cane. "BANG! GOTCHA!"

 

Another rope tore as Ian was once again struggling to breath, gurgling upon spit and oxygen as his toes dangled around like a ballerina to stabilize itself upon the remaining two pieces of rope.

 

"WRONG DUM-DUM!"

 

His lethargic expression backflipped, vaulted and performed a clean 180, as smiles and laughter filled him with joy. A single tear of happiness leaked from his eye as he once more fixed his monocle into position.

 

Robin tightly squeezed his mithril daggers, as she was honestly hating every minute of this dungeon. Preferring to fight dragons and monsters over enduring the bipolar man in the top hat and his crazed shenanigans. 

 

"A library?" Istvan weakly spoke, before realizing he had spoken his answer out aloud, throwing his palms over his mouth in fright.

 

Seeing Dolos' sudden pause, as if he were a video-tape stuck and in need of a gentle blow, or a TV that required a punch, and the saintess' sudden realization as her face lit up like a light-bulb, Istvan double-downed on the answer.

 

"Library! A library is a building that has the most stories! Not floors but story books!"

 

Dolos's fervour vanished, his skin paled and wrinkled as if he had just aged centuries more, his back crooked as he became unable to stand without summoning a new walking-stick. Holding back his urges to swear and threaten the man, a wooden stool appeared behind him as he took a seat. His bones cracking and aching as he did so.

 

 

"I come in many shapes and sizes, within every kingdom you shall find me there.

No matter the species, human, elf, dhan or dekan, I am honest, and I am fair.

Feed me, cherish me, as I do not mind living upon the floor.

I hate baths and showers, try to wash me and I shall leave, forevermore.

 

What am I?"