It didn't take as long as I thought it would to set up the "forest room" as I'd tentatively labeled it on my blueprint. I turned my attention to the other branch, and the large room at its end, and decided that it would be my next core room. I slapped a label on it and sketched out some preliminary plans: a location for my pedestal, a higher stand than it was currently on, some shelves for glittery treasures to go on, a few plinths for statues, nothing too detailed, but I could flesh it out later.

  I had so much space for little rooms that would get finished first. I set them up off the sides of the long corridors then, once I had five or six on each side, I moved the halls to run through the rooms instead of next to them, zig-zagging back and forth to make a longer, presumably harder, path for any intruders that wanted to get to my core. I started to play around with ice and snow and water, testing the possibility of making a sort of temperature gradient going from the front of the dungeon to the back.

  Earl, I said to myself, you're getting the hang of this "art" thing.

  It made the most sense to start things off chilly, then warm up as the dungeon got deeper. I colored the gradient on my dungeon map so I could see where I wanted what temperatures, and lost myself in math and design.

  ----

  Over at Surveillance Tower Twenty-Seven, Tower Master Hudson was at the ground floor, collecting the mail from a very flustered courier.

  "You, you didn't have to come yourself, sir," the mail carrier stammered.

  "A man in uniform should put on a braver front," Master Hudson said kindly. "I'm not going to bite, and I'm not going to set you on fire with my mind."

  He took the mail and nodded. The mailman nodded back and turned to go. Master Hudson watched him leave and, once he'd gone around the bend in the road, turned back to his tower and walked back up five flights of stairs to his office. Once there, he sat in the plush leather chair behind his hardwood desk, took a deep breath, and opened the bag the mailman had given him.

  There was an assortment of envelopes inside, and a single scroll case, wood and leather, with the Mage's Association's seal on it.

  Mage Hudson swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth and set the scroll case aside. With slightly trembling fingers, he teased open the first envelope. It held an agricultural report - a combination of blight and monster attacks had damaged a number of farms in the south, and food was projected to be more expensive until Spring. He opened a drawer and made a note to talk to Mrs. Lawson about changing the menu for a while, to compensate for the increased cost of produce. He'd need to talk to the men about growing or catching fresh food more often, too. What a mess.

  The next envelope had a note from the Royal Treasury regarding the projected date that his salary would arrive, along with the Tower's budget for the next year, to be accompanied by an auditor. It regretfully informed him that Surveillance Tower Twenty-Seven had not performed any notable services to the kingdom in the last year, and so would not be receiving any bonus, and that no noble families had deigned to provide his Tower with additional funding.

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  The last envelope was a letter from the master of Tower Seventy-Six and contained the next move in their ongoing game of long-distance chess. Master Hudson dutifully updated the chess board to the side of his desk.

  Then, he took a deep breath and opened the scroll case. The parchment inside was fine, smooth and flexible, and when he unrolled it, the calligraphy was crisp and polished.

  {Tower Master 27,

  Greetings from Variswood's Surveillance Tower 1. Your request to send one of your mages to investigate the source of pure mana has been received and is under consideration.

  Adventurer Team Low Flow, comprised of Adventurer Alan, Adventurer Flora, and Adventurer Lucas, has been assigned to investigate the source of the pure mana and perform a preliminary survey. The final decision regarding your request will be made following the receipt of Adventurer Team Low Flow's report.

  Surveillance Tower 27 will be responsible for hosting and supplying Adventurer Team Low Flow for the duration of the investigation. You may anticipate their arrival within one month of this letter's arrival.

  Signed,

  Tower Master 1}

  Tower Master Hudson rolled the scroll up and returned it to its case. He put the case down on his desk, wedged between a pair of paper weights to prevent it from rolling away. Then, he leaned down and opened the bottom left drawer. He reached behind the boxes in the drawer, full of unsharpened quills and bottles of ink, and retrieved a large, opaque bottle.

  Harold Hudson uncorked the bottle, breathed in the fumes for a moment, then took a long slug of hard liquor.

  ---

  Alan leaned back his chair (with an ominous creak), kicked his feet up on the table (dropping clods of dirt on and around his empty plate), and took a swig from his mug of (frankly awful) ale.

  "Could you put your feet on the floor?" Flora asked sharply. "Some of us are still eating."

  "Eh, a little dirt might make the food here taste better," Alan shrugged, but he dropped down anyway (with a loud clunk) and put his feet on the floor like she asked. "It certainly wouldn't hurt the drink. Which reminds me!" He turned toward the bar and waved his (now empty) mug. "More ale please!"

  The server bustled over with a clay pitcher and poured him a refill. He chanced a glance down her bodice, and was rewarded with the folded mounds of a woman whose clothes were too tight but had squeezed into them anyway; she was ten pounds of sausage in a five pound casing, bulging out of her blouse like uncooked dough, risen for hours and left on the counter.

  He looked away too slow. She winked at him, and swayed her generous hips as she walked away.

  Alan slugged back warm, sour ale and tried not to shudder.

  "You do you, man," Luke said, then leaned in over the table and added, "just don't tell me about it after."

  Alan's reply was nonverbal and terribly rude. Flora kicked his shin under the table, a gentle nudge of her boot that might not even bruise. Alan laughed heartily, covering his smile with his mug.

  Luke flicked a dirt clod at him.

  "And you can keep your feet away from my food while you don't tell me about what you do in private."

  Alan only laughed harder, right up until Flora hooked a boot under his chair leg and tipped him over backwards. His ale spilled all over him, into his hair and eyes and, from the spluttering, up his nose.

  "If you broke that chair, you're paying for it!" the innkeeper yelled.

  "Yeah, yeah. We know," Flora waved a calloused hand at him. "We're good for it."

  "That's the only reason I let you people back in here!"

  "And that's our cue to turn in for the night," Luke announced. He stood up, looming over his teammates, before bending down to haul Alan to his feet and up the stairs to their room. "Flora, cover the tab."

  Flora rolled her eyes but pulled out her coin purse and went to pay for their food and drinks while the men went to hit the hay.