I held Starlight Grace aloft as I led the way through the dark corridors of Aquina Castle's dungeons.
The postern door was classically situated, leading to the bowels of a castle inhabited only by needle spiders, giant mice, cyclops bats … and the things that ate them.
Indeed, as Coppelia and I swept through the unrelenting darkness, we passed by more than mere cob webs and lifeless braziers here.
There were skeletons.
I stopped, peering down at the remains of a skull that once belonged to a human. Its jaws were missing. And yet its teeth were conspicuously present, fallen on the cold floor as if slowly plucked out.
Or perhaps spat out.
As I took in the yellowing, fractured skull, I heard the scattering of tiny feet.
Lifting up Starlight Grace, I illuminated the iron bars either side of me, their vertical shadows painted against the stone walls like an unbroken fence.
Between the bars, I saw the rags of those who'd once resided here.
I pursed my lips. Strewn buckets and chipped bowls were littered here, now home to the critters which fled from the light. More than once, I saw something slithering beneath a broken tile. And every so often, eyes blinking in the corner, vanishing amidst cob webs as Starlight Grace sought to reveal them.
All around me, the darkness weighed heavily against the light of my sword, muffling my steps as I continued onwards.
Yet even if my blade could cut the black fog, it could do little against the whispering chill which came with it. As I strode onwards, my skin was struck by a cold draft stripped bare of any hint of warmth. And I knew that no cloak could have protected me against it.
I reached into the unrelenting darkness with my sword. And as I did so, only one thought came to mind.
“3.5/10,” I declared.
Yes.
This was indeed one of the most unoriginal dungeons I had ever seen.
Ohohohoho! A Duke's castle! And yet one glance around this lazy caricature of a dungeon was enough to make me think that I'd just waltzed into a baron's holding after they'd run out of crowns halfway through the design!
Was this supposed to frighten intruders? Why, it was not only empty of inspiration, but also props!
This! This right here was the difference between nobility and royalty!
It was more than wealth which separated us. It was good taste!
A dungeon was not merely a mass of cob webs and iron cells. It was a warning. An opportunity to cower rivals and allies alike as rumours spread of what awaited those that defied the owner's ambitions.
This … This was simply drudgery!
“That seems like a low score,” replied Coppelia, her cheeriness physically repulsing the darkness more than Starlight Grace ever could. “I mean, it's bad, but it's not 3.5/10 bad. There's creaking. Creaking's always good.”
“Really now,” I said, waving her generosity away. “Creaking is the minimum standard of atmosphere to adhere to. We cannot possibly give points for not failing the basics. But we can take them away for not having them.”
“What about the random claw marks, though? I don't think they're too overdone. With a bit of blood, those might even make this place become scarier than an attic.”
I was inclined to agree. And there resided the heart of the problem.
“Quite so. There's clearly opportunity here. This is an old castle that was once inhabited by more than vermin. If there wasn't clear room for, oh, I don't know, a skeletal lich bursting through the wall, I wouldn't feel so dissatisfied.”
“Guess the Duke is pretty dumb for not keeping a skeletal lich in his basement, eh?”
I nodded.
Dungeons needed investment to maintain a fashionably imposing state.
Had I made a grave error? Had the Duke somehow beggared himself and now lacked the funds to even afford proper monsters? In what world were a few needle spiders supposed to deter an invader who didn't suffer from squeamishness?
“Not even a fruit slime to slow our passage,” I said, my sigh languishing in the still air. “Truly, the Duke can't even do uninspired right.”
“To be fair, I think you've punted away most of the fruit slimes.”
“Even a fruit slime can make a slightly ominous noise in the distance if they bounce hard enough. There's been nothing to deter our steps. How many groans have we heard since we've entered here? One?”
“Two. You didn't hear the first one. I'm pretty sure that was just a test.”
“Well, I'm thankful that my expenses will be modest, then. Clearly, the troll door guard will be the only staff I'll be headhunting today.”
“Is the castle staff responsible for interior design?”
“No. But they hold responsibility nonetheless.”
Coppelia paused.
“Because they're peasants?”
“Because they're peasants.” I nodded as Coppelia raised a fist for herself. She was learning. Excellent. “And also because someone should have at least suggested using all this wasted space on the ceiling.”
Of course, I didn't expect hanging chains boasting carefully constructed mannequins cycling fake blood with a fountain system. Those could only be found in the Kingdom of Dunes. Or perhaps Clarise's workshop.
Suddenly, I shivered as I recalled the last time I'd stepped in there. It was more than this dungeon would ever elicit from me.
Every so often, something my sister invented was released outside the walls of the Royal Villa. And when all the peasants in the nearby villages had run screaming for their lives, someone from the garrison had to be forced to retrieve whatever that was. And hopefully not be killed by it.
“Wait.”
I came to an abrupt halt. Coppelia peeked her head past my shoulder.
Around a corner, the row of disappointing dungeon cells ceased. The corridor suddenly narrowed, and the fog of darkness noticeably rescinded along with the sound of scattering critters.
What didn't disappear, however, was my amusement.
Here was a straight, unembellished corridor at odds with the dimensions of the rest of the dungeon, leading to a set of ordinary wooden stairs that promised access to the wealthy underbelly of the castle.
And atop those stairs was doubtlessly a lever, designed to prevent the traps laden within this corridor from activating for anyone wishing to escape down this path.
How did I know this?
Why, I'd seen a picture of this exact same corridor in the brochures we were given by the Stonemason's Guild!
“Ohohohohoho! Behold, Coppelia! The true depths to which this dungeon's lack of inspiration sinks!”
I pointed at the stone wall with my sword. Coppelia leaned forward a few more inches, inviting danger despite the fact she could see perfectly clearly.
“The first trap,” I said, smiling. “And a terribly poor one, as well. This is one of the most recommended corridors available—meaning the Duchy of Aquina has clearly opted for affordability over flourish!”
Coppelia gasped, her hands covering her mouth.
“You mean … there are people who don't design their own death corridors?”
“I know! It's maybe, just maybe acceptable if you were a merchant building your first estate. Perhaps a baron with a shoddy wooden keep. Stock corridors are designed to be usable with most housing types. But for higher nobility to use anything less than a bespoke corridor is simply embarrassing.”
“Soooo … I'm guessing that yours is the one with the giant rolling ball of doom, then? Because I don't think this corridor is big enough.”
I shook my head.
“Sadly, no. It's not just about corridor space. We'd need to extend the doors to get the giant rolling ball of doom inside in the first place, and Mother didn't want the mess.”
“Oh, I see. It was an actual conversation. That's … interesting.”
“Naturally. We strive for only the finest in bespoke installations. In fact, many of my summer picnics were spent happily discussing with my parents which manner of poisoned cloud traps we'd utilise.”
I smiled as the nostalgia hit me. Those were some of the most normal times I had with my family.
“Huh.” Coppelia tilted her head slightly as she sent a thoughtful glance to the corner. “I don't have any childhood memories of talking about how to weaponise my home. I wonder why?”
“Perhaps that's because you're a clockwork doll, thus making yourself the single most effective deterrent possible?”
“True. Although I'm not sure if I'm more effective than a bespoke death corridor. Are those things really a lot better than stock death corridors?”
“Not exactly,” I admitted. “In fact, the efficacy of stock corridors is quite high. They're the most tested, after all, and there are only so many fire acid traps you can install before the fire acid starts becoming a problem with infrastructure.”
“No way. There are drawbacks to storing huge amounts of fire acid in your basement? I can't believe it.”
I nodded as I took a step forwards, gingerly poking the first tiles on the floor.
“You wouldn't think so, would you?” I said, as I began to expertly demonstrate how to navigate the stock corridor with my highly trained foot poking manoeuvre. “Also, you can navigate the corridor like this. There's a lever atop the stairs. It can be pulled to deactivate the traps.”
“Really? That's great!”
“Indeed. I require you to pull it in order to turn off the highly lethal traps for me.”
Coppelia brought her hands together and smiled.
“I have a better idea! How about we take it in turns?”
“Turns? Why, that sounds wonderful. Why don't you take the first turn, and then once you've proven your remarkable agility, take the second turn as well?”
“No, no, no. My idea is much better. Listen, listen to this … you navigate the first corridor filled with whatever decapitation instruments exist behind the walls, and then we'll never take another trapped corridor again because it's filled with traps and we've already learned our lesson.”
“Now, now, Coppelia. As my future handmaiden, it's necessary that you enthusiastically offer your life in defence of me at all times. It would look appalling if I navigated the corridor filled with fire acid traps over my own attendant, wouldn't it?”
“It'd look even more appalling if I was sprayed with fire acid traps. My insides don't melt as good as yours. Plus I'm actually really bloated right now. If I stumble because I ate one apple too many, you're the one who has to foot the bill, you know?”
I was appalled.
That was … completely true?
If I ordered Coppelia onwards and she melted because of me, there was no escaping the fact I'd be liable for the repairs.
I'd just hired a troll guard. That was surely all my disposable expenses used up. If Coppelia became a talking fruit slime due to being hit by a spray of fire acid, all my hard work to recover the kingdom's finances would be undone.
… Even so!
“Rock, paper, scissors,” I said, laying down the gauntlet. “Are you perhaps familiar with this g—”
“One round, winner takes all.”
To my horror, Coppelia immediately curled her hand into a ball, a gladiator's determination scribbled on her face as she met my challenge.
For a moment, I only stared at her, unblinking.
And then—
“Rock, paper, scissors, go!!”
I looked down at the results.
“Oho … ohohoho … that's … that's fine! Then I … I shall bravely navigate the corridor of fire acid traps! If … If only to demonstrate to you how it's done!”
“Yay~”
Coppelia raised her open palm over her shoulder.
I smiled, the picture of valour as I slowly, ever so slowly, dipped a foot forwards.
“It … It should be fine! Indeed, the liquid naturally degrades whatever container they're stored in given enough time! Judging by the state of the dungeon's disrepair, the castle is not able to pay for its exorbitant maintenance costs!”
“True. I'm sure stuffing the walls full of toxic and flammable material with little regard to upkeep must surely make this place safer to navigate.”
“Quite so! … You will take the next corridor of traps, yes?”
“Pinky promise,” said Coppelia, without raising her pinky.
“Excellent! Then, watch closely as my feather foot poking technique feels for any and all trapped tiles on the floor!”
“I'm watching, I'm watching~”
Emboldened by my captivated audience, I took another step forwards.
Immediately, I found a tile which dipped.
Somewhere behind the grooves of the stone wall, the promise of sharpened steel awaited … but not for me!
Ohohohoho!
When my death came, it would be a glorious fanfare of colour and trumpets! An entire volume in the storied history of my family's legacy! I was too important to die to something as idiotic as traps!
Thus—the tile slowly returned to its position.
I stepped over it with a feline grace and turned around.
“Ohohohohohohoho!” I laughed, pointing at the tile behind me. “Behold! My angel's touch doesn't merely extend to my fingertips! Even my toes are gifted with a softness which makes the softest of pillows cry out in envy!”
“Ooooh ...”
Coppelia broke into applause.
I accepted it. And why not?
I was the picture of delicateness! Professional acrobats could only aspire to having the elegance I could display with my movements! Why, what was having the poise of a seasoned rogue if I didn't wish to display it?
Indeed, the vulnerabilities of a stock death corridor were already clear!
By only utilising pressure tiles, it was practically guaranteed that as long as I progressed with my heart as calm as the lake beside the Royal Villa, I would reach the safety of the stairs unhindered and without incident!
Ohohohohoho! Nothing now stood between myself and the untaxed riches of Aquina Castle just one mere stairwell away!
Quack, quack. Quack, quack.
I turned my head.
There, waddling up the corridor behind me, was a duck.
I blinked.
Once. Twice. Three times.
And yet … it was still a duck.
For a single moment, it stared between myself and Coppelia, its bright, yellow beak and equally bright red scarf competing to be the most colourful thing in all of Aquina.
And then—
Click.
It stepped onto a dipping tile.
My mouth widened, my breath caught in my throat as … nothing happened.
“..................”
For a heartbeat, a spark of hope ignited in me.
And then I heard the sound of gears and cogs clanking into place, before highly ominous slots suddenly opened up on the walls either side of me.
I looked at the duck. It looked at me.
“Pray that what happens next kills me,” I said to it. “Because otherwise, I will eat you with sautéed mushrooms and potato dauphinoise.”
I held Starlight Grace aloft as I led the way through the dark corridors of Aquina Castle's dungeons.
The postern door was classically situated, leading to the bowels of a castle inhabited only by needle spiders, giant mice, cyclops bats … and the things that ate them.
Indeed, as Coppelia and I swept through the unrelenting darkness, we passed by more than mere cob webs and lifeless braziers here.
There were skeletons.
I stopped, peering down at the remains of a skull that once belonged to a human. Its jaws were missing. And yet its teeth were conspicuously present, fallen on the cold floor as if slowly plucked out.
Or perhaps spat out.
As I took in the yellowing, fractured skull, I heard the scattering of tiny feet.
Lifting up Starlight Grace, I illuminated the iron bars either side of me, their vertical shadows painted against the stone walls like an unbroken fence.
Between the bars, I saw the rags of those who'd once resided here.
I pursed my lips. Strewn buckets and chipped bowls were littered here, now home to the critters which fled from the light. More than once, I saw something slithering beneath a broken tile. And every so often, eyes blinking in the corner, vanishing amidst cob webs as Starlight Grace sought to reveal them.
All around me, the darkness weighed heavily against the light of my sword, muffling my steps as I continued onwards.
Yet even if my blade could cut the black fog, it could do little against the whispering chill which came with it. As I strode onwards, my skin was struck by a cold draft stripped bare of any hint of warmth. And I knew that no cloak could have protected me against it.
I reached into the unrelenting darkness with my sword. And as I did so, only one thought came to mind.
“3.5/10,” I declared.
Yes.
This was indeed one of the most unoriginal dungeons I had ever seen.
Ohohohoho! A Duke's castle! And yet one glance around this lazy caricature of a dungeon was enough to make me think that I'd just waltzed into a baron's holding after they'd run out of crowns halfway through the design!
Was this supposed to frighten intruders? Why, it was not only empty of inspiration, but also props!
This! This right here was the difference between nobility and royalty!
It was more than wealth which separated us. It was good taste!
A dungeon was not merely a mass of cob webs and iron cells. It was a warning. An opportunity to cower rivals and allies alike as rumours spread of what awaited those that defied the owner's ambitions.
This … This was simply drudgery!
“That seems like a low score,” replied Coppelia, her cheeriness physically repulsing the darkness more than Starlight Grace ever could. “I mean, it's bad, but it's not 3.5/10 bad. There's creaking. Creaking's always good.”
“Really now,” I said, waving her generosity away. “Creaking is the minimum standard of atmosphere to adhere to. We cannot possibly give points for not failing the basics. But we can take them away for not having them.”
“What about the random claw marks, though? I don't think they're too overdone. With a bit of blood, those might even make this place become scarier than an attic.”
I was inclined to agree. And there resided the heart of the problem.
“Quite so. There's clearly opportunity here. This is an old castle that was once inhabited by more than vermin. If there wasn't clear room for, oh, I don't know, a skeletal lich bursting through the wall, I wouldn't feel so dissatisfied.”
“Guess the Duke is pretty dumb for not keeping a skeletal lich in his basement, eh?”
I nodded.
Dungeons needed investment to maintain a fashionably imposing state.
Had I made a grave error? Had the Duke somehow beggared himself and now lacked the funds to even afford proper monsters? In what world were a few needle spiders supposed to deter an invader who didn't suffer from squeamishness?
“Not even a fruit slime to slow our passage,” I said, my sigh languishing in the still air. “Truly, the Duke can't even do uninspired right.”
“To be fair, I think you've punted away most of the fruit slimes.”
“Even a fruit slime can make a slightly ominous noise in the distance if they bounce hard enough. There's been nothing to deter our steps. How many groans have we heard since we've entered here? One?”
“Two. You didn't hear the first one. I'm pretty sure that was just a test.”
“Well, I'm thankful that my expenses will be modest, then. Clearly, the troll door guard will be the only staff I'll be headhunting today.”
“Is the castle staff responsible for interior design?”
“No. But they hold responsibility nonetheless.”
Coppelia paused.
“Because they're peasants?”
“Because they're peasants.” I nodded as Coppelia raised a fist for herself. She was learning. Excellent. “And also because someone should have at least suggested using all this wasted space on the ceiling.”
Of course, I didn't expect hanging chains boasting carefully constructed mannequins cycling fake blood with a fountain system. Those could only be found in the Kingdom of Dunes. Or perhaps Clarise's workshop.
Suddenly, I shivered as I recalled the last time I'd stepped in there. It was more than this dungeon would ever elicit from me.
Every so often, something my sister invented was released outside the walls of the Royal Villa. And when all the peasants in the nearby villages had run screaming for their lives, someone from the garrison had to be forced to retrieve whatever that was. And hopefully not be killed by it.
“Wait.”
I came to an abrupt halt. Coppelia peeked her head past my shoulder.
Around a corner, the row of disappointing dungeon cells ceased. The corridor suddenly narrowed, and the fog of darkness noticeably rescinded along with the sound of scattering critters.
What didn't disappear, however, was my amusement.
Here was a straight, unembellished corridor at odds with the dimensions of the rest of the dungeon, leading to a set of ordinary wooden stairs that promised access to the wealthy underbelly of the castle.
And atop those stairs was doubtlessly a lever, designed to prevent the traps laden within this corridor from activating for anyone wishing to escape down this path.
How did I know this?
Why, I'd seen a picture of this exact same corridor in the brochures we were given by the Stonemason's Guild!
“Ohohohohoho! Behold, Coppelia! The true depths to which this dungeon's lack of inspiration sinks!”
I pointed at the stone wall with my sword. Coppelia leaned forward a few more inches, inviting danger despite the fact she could see perfectly clearly.
“The first trap,” I said, smiling. “And a terribly poor one, as well. This is one of the most recommended corridors available—meaning the Duchy of Aquina has clearly opted for affordability over flourish!”
Coppelia gasped, her hands covering her mouth.
“You mean … there are people who don't design their own death corridors?”
“I know! It's maybe, just maybe acceptable if you were a merchant building your first estate. Perhaps a baron with a shoddy wooden keep. Stock corridors are designed to be usable with most housing types. But for higher nobility to use anything less than a bespoke corridor is simply embarrassing.”
“Soooo … I'm guessing that yours is the one with the giant rolling ball of doom, then? Because I don't think this corridor is big enough.”
I shook my head.
“Sadly, no. It's not just about corridor space. We'd need to extend the doors to get the giant rolling ball of doom inside in the first place, and Mother didn't want the mess.”
“Oh, I see. It was an actual conversation. That's … interesting.”
“Naturally. We strive for only the finest in bespoke installations. In fact, many of my summer picnics were spent happily discussing with my parents which manner of poisoned cloud traps we'd utilise.”
I smiled as the nostalgia hit me. Those were some of the most normal times I had with my family.
“Huh.” Coppelia tilted her head slightly as she sent a thoughtful glance to the corner. “I don't have any childhood memories of talking about how to weaponise my home. I wonder why?”
“Perhaps that's because you're a clockwork doll, thus making yourself the single most effective deterrent possible?”
“True. Although I'm not sure if I'm more effective than a bespoke death corridor. Are those things really a lot better than stock death corridors?”
“Not exactly,” I admitted. “In fact, the efficacy of stock corridors is quite high. They're the most tested, after all, and there are only so many fire acid traps you can install before the fire acid starts becoming a problem with infrastructure.”
“No way. There are drawbacks to storing huge amounts of fire acid in your basement? I can't believe it.”
I nodded as I took a step forwards, gingerly poking the first tiles on the floor.
“You wouldn't think so, would you?” I said, as I began to expertly demonstrate how to navigate the stock corridor with my highly trained foot poking manoeuvre. “Also, you can navigate the corridor like this. There's a lever atop the stairs. It can be pulled to deactivate the traps.”
“Really? That's great!”
“Indeed. I require you to pull it in order to turn off the highly lethal traps for me.”
Coppelia brought her hands together and smiled.
“I have a better idea! How about we take it in turns?”
“Turns? Why, that sounds wonderful. Why don't you take the first turn, and then once you've proven your remarkable agility, take the second turn as well?”
“No, no, no. My idea is much better. Listen, listen to this … you navigate the first corridor filled with whatever decapitation instruments exist behind the walls, and then we'll never take another trapped corridor again because it's filled with traps and we've already learned our lesson.”
“Now, now, Coppelia. As my future handmaiden, it's necessary that you enthusiastically offer your life in defence of me at all times. It would look appalling if I navigated the corridor filled with fire acid traps over my own attendant, wouldn't it?”
“It'd look even more appalling if I was sprayed with fire acid traps. My insides don't melt as good as yours. Plus I'm actually really bloated right now. If I stumble because I ate one apple too many, you're the one who has to foot the bill, you know?”
I was appalled.
That was … completely true?
If I ordered Coppelia onwards and she melted because of me, there was no escaping the fact I'd be liable for the repairs.
I'd just hired a troll guard. That was surely all my disposable expenses used up. If Coppelia became a talking fruit slime due to being hit by a spray of fire acid, all my hard work to recover the kingdom's finances would be undone.
… Even so!
“Rock, paper, scissors,” I said, laying down the gauntlet. “Are you perhaps familiar with this g—”
“One round, winner takes all.”
To my horror, Coppelia immediately curled her hand into a ball, a gladiator's determination scribbled on her face as she met my challenge.
For a moment, I only stared at her, unblinking.
And then—
“Rock, paper, scissors, go!!”
I looked down at the results.
“Oho … ohohoho … that's … that's fine! Then I … I shall bravely navigate the corridor of fire acid traps! If … If only to demonstrate to you how it's done!”
“Yay~”
Coppelia raised her open palm over her shoulder.
I smiled, the picture of valour as I slowly, ever so slowly, dipped a foot forwards.
“It … It should be fine! Indeed, the liquid naturally degrades whatever container they're stored in given enough time! Judging by the state of the dungeon's disrepair, the castle is not able to pay for its exorbitant maintenance costs!”
“True. I'm sure stuffing the walls full of toxic and flammable material with little regard to upkeep must surely make this place safer to navigate.”
“Quite so! … You will take the next corridor of traps, yes?”
“Pinky promise,” said Coppelia, without raising her pinky.
“Excellent! Then, watch closely as my feather foot poking technique feels for any and all trapped tiles on the floor!”
“I'm watching, I'm watching~”
Emboldened by my captivated audience, I took another step forwards.
Immediately, I found a tile which dipped.
Somewhere behind the grooves of the stone wall, the promise of sharpened steel awaited … but not for me!
Ohohohoho!
When my death came, it would be a glorious fanfare of colour and trumpets! An entire volume in the storied history of my family's legacy! I was too important to die to something as idiotic as traps!
Thus—the tile slowly returned to its position.
I stepped over it with a feline grace and turned around.
“Ohohohohohohoho!” I laughed, pointing at the tile behind me. “Behold! My angel's touch doesn't merely extend to my fingertips! Even my toes are gifted with a softness which makes the softest of pillows cry out in envy!”
“Ooooh ...”
Coppelia broke into applause.
I accepted it. And why not?
I was the picture of delicateness! Professional acrobats could only aspire to having the elegance I could display with my movements! Why, what was having the poise of a seasoned rogue if I didn't wish to display it?
Indeed, the vulnerabilities of a stock death corridor were already clear!
By only utilising pressure tiles, it was practically guaranteed that as long as I progressed with my heart as calm as the lake beside the Royal Villa, I would reach the safety of the stairs unhindered and without incident!
Ohohohohoho! Nothing now stood between myself and the untaxed riches of Aquina Castle just one mere stairwell away!
Quack, quack. Quack, quack.
I turned my head.
There, waddling up the corridor behind me, was a duck.
I blinked.
Once. Twice. Three times.
And yet … it was still a duck.
For a single moment, it stared between myself and Coppelia, its bright, yellow beak and equally bright red scarf competing to be the most colourful thing in all of Aquina.
And then—
Click.
It stepped onto a dipping tile.
My mouth widened, my breath caught in my throat as … nothing happened.
“..................”
For a heartbeat, a spark of hope ignited in me.
And then I heard the sound of gears and cogs clanking into place, before highly ominous slots suddenly opened up on the walls either side of me.
I looked at the duck. It looked at me.
“Pray that what happens next kills me,” I said to it. “Because otherwise, I will eat you with sautéed mushrooms and potato dauphinoise.”
