Monroe

Bob finished his shower and equipped his armor before scooping Monroe up out of the sink and settling him onto his shoulders, the Makres quietly clicking as it secured his buddy in place.

"Ready for some breakfast, buddy?" Bob asked as he rubbed Monroe under his chin, which started the big cat's purr motor.

Bob stepped towards the door and abruptly halted.

A huge rat, easily four feet long, was lying in front of the door. It had clearly been clawed and bitten to death.

Bob reached up mechanically to stroke Monroe's ears.

"You are a mighty hunter," Bob praised his buddy softly.

With a shudder, Bob stepped over the rat and out the door.

He was definitely going to have words with someone about that. Not only should rats not get that big, they absolutely should not be in his room.

Bob descended into the tavern and stopped at the base of the stairs as he looked out over the chaos.

The tavern was full, but not of people, or even the normal arrangement of chairs and tables.

No, the tavern was full of ovens, stoves, racks, what appeared to be tables from the kitchen, given their length and height, piled with cookware.

As Bob looked out at the chaos, a large man with a ruddy face turned and, catching sight of him, pointed and said, "You!"

Bob glanced from side to side, identifying that there wasn't anyone else around him, and looked at the man who was rapidly approaching him.

"Sally," the man bellowed over his shoulder, "a bowl of diced cod for our mighty hunter."

Bob tilted his head, nonplussed.

"You must be Bob," the man said as he reached Bob, his mouth turning up into a grin, "I'm Frank, and I'm in charge of the kitchens."

"The kitchen looks a little displaced," Bob said, following Frank as he gestured towards a table.

"It would," Frank allowed as he sat down with a sigh, "being as I'm having to pull everything out of it and scrub it down, thanks to him," Frank nodded at Monroe.

Bob slid Monroe off of his shoulders and held him protectively in his lap as he said, "And what did Monroe do?"

"Oh, not to worry," Frank said, hands raised in surrender, "he's not in any trouble."

Frank leaned forward and grinned conspiratorily, "In fact," he said, "I suspect he's gained a few admirers."

He leaned back and gestured towards the kitchens before going on, "Early this morning, my preparations for breakfast were interrupted when that handsome fellow," Frank pointed at Monroe, "took it upon himself to hunt down a few mice in my kitchen, which I can assure you, is a place mice have never been found."

Frank shook his head and continued, "it turned out that somehow the wall in the larder had developed a crack, and as the Guild is situated just above the cistern that serves the upper city, rodents found their way in from the sewers."

Letting out a full belly laugh, Frank finished by saying, "I thought I'd need to send someone in after him when out he came, dragging the biggest rat I have ever seen."

He wiped away a tear as he laughed, "Should have heard some of the folks carrying on when they saw that rat, with Monroe just dragging it along like it was nothing," he shook his head, "I don't know where he put it though, and that's a bit of a concern."

Bob moved Monroe up onto the table as Shelly approached with a bowl of fish.

"If you have someone available, it can be found in my room, right in front of the door," Bob said with a sigh as he ran his hands through Monroe's ruff.

"He likes to leave me trophies," Bob said by way of explanation.

Sally set the bowl down, and Monroe started in on his breakfast.

"What a mighty hunter," Sally cooed as she rubbed Monroe's ears.

"That he is," Bob agreed, while Frank concurred with a chortle.

"I'll have someone get it off your floor," Frank said agreeably.

"Thanks," Bob said dryly, "as much as I appreciate his hunting prowess, the trophies are a bit much sometimes."

"I don't suppose you could sort me out a bit of breakfast in all this mess?" Bob asked hopefully.

Frank grimaced and replied, "I could have some sandwiches done up, but I'm afraid it'll be a few hours before everything is properly cleaned and put back into place," he shrugged helplessly, "we don't have anyone on staff in the kitchen who is a real spell caster, let alone a ritualist, which is what I'm afraid it would take."

Bob nodded, "Sandwiches would be fine, and I wouldn't mind casting a few spells for you, but I'm not sure if I know any that would help."

"Don't suppose you know cleanse?" Frank asked hopefully.

Bob shook his head sadly, "I'm afraid I don't, although I've heard it mentioned before."

"Figures," Frank said with a sigh, "I assumed we'd have to scrub everything down by hand, but the truth is I need the stoves scrubbed down first, as they take a while to warm back up, and I don't really have a good way to get clean, hot water in the quantities that I need it."

Bob furrowed his brow.

"I might be able to help with that," Bob said slowly.

He absently pulled a piece of rock from his inventory via his satchel, and formed the mana pattern for a persistent effect Control Air Spell, and then stretched it into a trough shape.

The chunk of stone was now hovering in midair, resting at the bottom of the trough.

Bob concentrated, shaping his mana into a persistent effect Control Earth Spell, stretching the stone paper-thin, covering the lower few inches of the trough, and then perforating it with tiny holes. He shaped small funnels that dropped a bare inch as they narrowed.

"Can you fill this most of the way with water?" Bob asked Frank, who was looking at the five-foot-long trough with curiosity.

"Fill what lad? That's a nifty piece of stone you've made there, but it's full of holes," Frank chuckled.

"A barrier of compressed air contains it," Bob replied offhandedly as he started to move his mana into the pattern of a Control Fire Spell, having dropped a lump of glowing coal into the center of the trough where it hovered several inches above the stone.

Frank's eyebrows rose, and he shouted, "Sally! Grab a few others and get me a dozen gallons of water."

Bob scrutinized his altered terrarium.

Sally arrived moments later with a bucket of water which she carefully poured onto the stone grate at Frank's gesture.

Her surprise was evident when it settled to the bottom of the curved trough of air.

Bob began to push his mana into a Control Water Spell, working delicately to ensure that water would flow down through each funnel and then rush back up through the fine mesh of the grate.

By the time he was done, the water had enveloped the coal, which was producing a considerable amount of heat.

The water was rushing down to the funnels and then back up through mesh, further agitated by the coal's heat, resulting in what looked like boiling white water rapids.

Bob nodded to himself.

"Just add some soap," Bob said to Frank, "and the funnels should carry any filth to the bottom of the trough, and the mesh should keep it there."

"Damn," Frank said as he looked over Bob's improvised dishwasher, "how long will it go for?"

"Well," Bob said, "I can leave it here pretty much indefinitely," he raised a hand in caution, having seen the glint in Frank's eyes, "but it reduces my available mana by eighty, and at some point, I will need that back."

"I'll make good use of it while it's here," Frank promised, "we used to have enchanted sinks that cleaned dishes, pots, and pans, but when they split the tavern," he jerked his head towards the raised floor and railing beyond the servant's tavern, "they moved them over to the other side, and we've been making do with a single boiler which only heats enough water for three out of our seven sinks."

Frank shook his head, "I ought to get off my ass increase my level, but life gets in the way, so I'm stuck with everyone else."

Frank gave Bob a nod and stood, "I'll have some sandwiches out for you shortly," he promised before turning and heading off with a bellow to one of the servers taking the racks out of the oven to scrub them.

Bob was pleasantly surprised on two fronts when he reached the Under Cathedral.

All four of his freshers were now wearing armor, and they were all carrying weapons.

Voren smiled at his approach.

"May the light of Vi'Radia illuminate your path," the large man said, "I take it you're shepherding your charges once again?"

Bob nodded as he replied, "I have planned to spend another four hours with them on the first floor of the Dungeon."

Voren nodded and pulled out his ledger, noting down the delve.

"Go with the light," Voren said and gestured towards the stairs.

"Thank you," Bob rejoined as he motioned for the freshers to follow him down.

He stopped at the base of the stairs and once again cast his control air spell as an area effect, halting the motion of the air, effectively creating a bubble that prevented sound from passing in either direction.

"I'm pleased to see that all of you arrived with not only a weapon but also armor," Bob said.

"Hopefully, everyone remembers the rules of delving," Bob went on, "and is ready to accelerate their kill rate."

Bob saw Nora and Charn both grimace, and he smiled.

"I'm going to expect each of you to take a pool of light and work the four corners where the monsters appear," Bob stated.

Wayna and Orson joined Nora and Charn in a wince.

Bob smiled grimly and raised his voice, "Are you ready?"

Orson and Nora nodded, while Charn and Wayna replied quietly, "Yes."

"Let's get moving," Bob shouted as he motioned the kids forward, "it's time to PUT IN THE WORK!"

Bob dropped his control air spell and followed the kids as they hurried down the corridor.

"The first rule of delving is caution! The careless Adventurer gets themselves, and their team killed!" Bob bellowed.

"The second rule of delving is humility! Better to retreat than to take on a fight you're not sure you can win!" Bob continued.

Nora was trying to control her breathing, but she was nearly running from corner to corner.

Bob went on, "The third rule of delving is skill! If you're not capped on your skills, you're going to get yourself, and others killed!"

"You may notice that there is a pattern to the rules," Bob yelled, "namely that if you don't follow them, you end up dead!"

"And Adventurers ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE WITHOUT PERMISSION," Bob screamed, "because when you fuck up and die, it's not just your ass, it's the people who were depending on you!"

"The fourth rule of delving is knowledge! Find out what you're fighting! If you're investigating a naturally formed Dungeon, scout slowly! Fighting blind gets you killed!" Bob roared.

"The fifth rule of delving is gear! I'm damn pleased to see that everyone brought A FUCKING WEAPON TO KILL MONSTERS WITH," Bob continued, "because yesterday was a damn sad day on Thayland, seeing freshers show up to delve without even a damn stick!"

"The sixth rule of delving, the golden rule, is that you can never have enough mana crystals! By the Stars above and the Stones below, I won't let you join the Adventurer's Guild if you aren't wearing fully enchanted and enhanced armor!" Bob said, pausing to drink from his canteen.

Nora panted as she crushed another centipede with her club.

Despite her determination to keep track, she'd lost count of how many centipedes she'd killed a while ago. She was pretty sure that Bob was on his sixth reiteration of the rules, though. Or maybe the seventh.

"Strike, move, strike!" Bob yelled, "keep moving, keep killing!"

Nora reached her next corner and engaged the monster that lurked there.

"You've never seen a wave, none of you!" Bob shouted harshly.

"So many monsters they cover the ground as far as the eye can see," Bob roared, "all rushing towards your town for only one purpose: to kill everyone you know and love!"

"The only thing that is going to stand between your loved ones and a horrific death is you!" Bob bellowed, "Remember Bob's Motto! ABK - Always be killing!"

Nora dodged a set of pincers and brought her club down in an overhead swing, splattering chitin and centipede blood and brain matter all over her legs.

"Move, people move! We were only given four hours, and you need to have enough crystals to take your first level! And you have to have enough for the King's twenty percent and a ten percent tithe to the Church!" Bob stated loudly.

Nora's arms were trembling as she rushed to the next corner. She knew that she was killing the centipedes more quickly today, but she didn't know how much more quickly.

"Eighty is your magic number," Bob said, "That's sixteen for the King, eight for the Church, five for me, and at least one for Voren."

"Personally, I'd recommend moving fast enough to get more," Bob shouted, "because keeping the healer at the gate happy is a damn good strategy for staying alive when one of you inevitably fucks up!"

Everything hurt. She'd been sore this morning, and today was even worse than yesterday.

Nora kept going, moving and striking.

She was determined to succeed. She would not go back to her family in disgrace. She'd heard her older brother talking to his friends about delving into the Dungeon. He had talked about standing by the area that a monster would appear and killing it, then waiting for the next.

He clearly wasn't a real Adventurer, she thought. Not like Bob was. Bob might not look like much, and his deference to the higher-tiered citizenry was disturbing, but...

She could tell that he believed what he was saying. That the rules he repeated were the ones he lived by.

No, she wasn't going to fail, she thought as she rushed across to the next pool of shadows.

Nora nearly lost her balance as her knee threatened to give out when she abruptly had to halt her momentum and hop backward as the centipede lunged for her.

Smashing her club into its side, she hurled the monster into the wall next to her before stepping up, ignoring the twinge in her knee as she brought her club down to finish the centipede as it turned to strike her.

No, she thought, she was going to succeed. She was going to put in the work.