The Daily Grind - Chapter 390 (Patreon)

Bonus chapter. This is chapter 2 of 2 for this bonus chapter week.

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"A developed country is not a place where the poor have cars.  It's where the rich use public transportation." -Gustavo Petro-

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“So what you’ve gotta understand is, I’m not perfect.”  Three Oh Six said around a mouthful of some kind of meatball sub monstrosity that she’d subjected the ratroach behind the counter to the process of making.  “Also this is good, thanks!  Uh… I still appreciate you not killing me, so…”

James and Morgan were both trying to figure out how the oilslick was actually eating her sandwich.  James, not really focusing on the tenth repetition of a subtle plea to continue not killing anyone, was holding his own sandwich in his off hand while his avian eye tried to pick out details.  Three Oh Six clearly had teeth, but… the oilslicks had previously shown that their base forms were entirely liquid, just formed into a human shape.  And when something hit them hard enough, like a bullet, their bodies reacted like liquid too.  So… was she actually biting anything?  If Three Oh Six put too much pressure on her sandwich would her mouth liquify into its natural black oil state?

“She’s chewing.”  Morgan said to the older human.  “I don’t think you can fake chewing.”

”I know, it’s really weird.  What I’m wondering is, what’s the digestion process like?”  James mused back, leaning his head in toward the teenager.  “Do you think it’s nutritious?”

”I mean, it looks like she’s into it, so she must taste something, right?  But… did you know there’s people who don’t have a sense of smell?”  Morgan asked suddenly.

James nodded.  “I’m aware, yeah.  Why?”

”Well if she mimics someone with that, does she not taste anymore?”

”Ooh, good question!”  James nodded appreciatively, trying to not smile at Morgan’s embarrassment at being praised, the teenager shifting in the salvaged restaurant chair while they sat at a corner table in the recently restored structure near the logisticor plaza.

The place was a bizarre contrast of the Order’s design sensibilities and the idiosyncrasies of the group that had filled the ground floor business with a New York style deli, all blended up with the growing amount of magic constantly at play in Townton.  There was more sunlight than there should be coming through the plate glass of the front, the whole place was flooded with the smell of cooking bread, and James was pretty sure their food had been delivered to their table via ghost.  He wasn’t sure which of those came from what magic, but it didn’t really matter.  It was also very funny that someone had clearly tried to make the place feel like it was a little close-quarters, maybe even intentionally cramped, but it just didn’t work.  There was the perfect amount of space between tables and shelves and the counter and it was like watching a slow struggle played out in the realm of feng shui.

“You guys know I can hear you, right?”  Three Oh Six asked around an annoyed mouthful of sandwich.

”Yeah, we’re putting you at ease by being funny and irritating.”  Morgan told her.  “Or… no, shit, I’m not supposed to say that part.  Okay, Judgment tiers only go so far, got it.  Gotta level that up again, sorry… uh… Three?”

The oilslick looked like she was really uncomfortable, face half hidden by her hands and sandwich.  “I know you guys don’t like using the whole thing, but can you not abbreviate me that way?”

”Oh, sure, I’m used to that.”  Morgan nodded.  “I was just checking.”

James kept his own face as professional as it could be while he was chewing, and set the rest of his sandwich back in his basket.  It was actually kind of impressive how… not good exactly, but how comfortable Morgan had gotten in playing a very specific role with his words.  Like he was a vaguely baffled conversational crash dummy that did a great job diffusing a lot of situations just by agreeably bumbling through them.  It was a tactic James understood, because it was one he used sometimes, especially after going through some of the social side of JP’s Rogue training.  But it was also something he knew he just wouldn’t have been capable of when he was Morgan’s age.

Whether it was Sewer stat point or improved social education or a secret third thing, James wasn’t clear on.  But it was still neat to see.

”So.”  James said, trying to bring things back to a more serious tone without sending the oilslick into another bout of apologies.  “You have a message.  For me, specifically.  Now, I know we’ve met before, personally, but do you wanna explain why the dungeon thinks I’m the person to talk to?  Because I’m pretty sure you weren’t the one backing me there.”

”We have our sources.”  Three Oh Six said cryptically.

James immediately interpreted that to mean we have at least one spy in the Order.  A thing that he kind of knew to be true already; the Order in general and Karen in particular had gotten pretty good at spotting shapeshifters.  Between the obligate friends, constant shenanigans from Prince and Ruby, and now the existence of the oilslicks, it was in their best interest to have robust plans in place for spotting people who just showed up and slipped into roles.

So when the shapeshifter - they went by Clyde which was almost certainly not their real name - had arrived in Townton and then from there started working their way through different projects and departments, frequently ones that took them back to the Lair?  Well, Karen and Planner had spotted the discrepancy.  Not immediately; if someone wanted to just live in Townton they could probably do it without drawing attention.  But joining the Order?  That was going to be trickier to do without some questions.

”Sure.”  James said out loud, while wondering if Clyde was going to vanish in the near future, or if the oilslick liked the Order enough to stick around.  “That’s not an answer though.”

”Well, my homeworld knows you’re not in charge, exactly, but…” Three Oh Six shrugged, cramming the last three bites of her sandwich into her face at once and then talking around the food with muffled words, “myourh ehh irutual oore.”  

James stared at her before pinching the bridge of his nose, wishing he still wore glasses so he could shove them up to his forehead for dramatic effect.  “What.”

Three Oh Six chewed at a frantic pace, answering zero of the questions about her species’ eating habits.  ”You’re a spiritual core!”  She said after swallowing with a gulp.  “Home’s seen it before a few times I guess!  You get people that aren’t in charge, but they drag a group or an organization toward something.  You’re like that!”

”I don’t subscribe to ‘great man’ theory.”  James told her bluntly.

“Oh.  Dunno?”  Three Oh Six shrugged, affecting a false relaxed attitude as she settled into her seat.  It was, she figured, kind of nice here.  A little weird, but she was pretty sure at this point no one was going to kill her.  But she was still worried about fucking up her task.  “The big thing is that you’re at the center of a lot of stuff.  If you agree to anything, others will follow you.  And if they don’t… uh… I mean, you’re pretty scary anyway, you know?”

James tried not to let his face shift as he took that in.  “I’m used to being seen that way.”  He said with a sigh.  It came up a lot.  Ratroaches.  Chanters.  Crocamaws.  There were so many people who were skittish around him, and he couldn’t even really say he wasn’t dangerous.  He was.  He just… never wanted to use that against anyone.  “Well, putting that aside,” he pressed on, “what is the message?”

”I’m really only supposed to talk to you though…”

A casual motion stacked James’ food basket on top of Three Oh Six’s empty one, the simple gesture reinforcing the attitude of enforced apathy he was emanating.  “I honestly do not care.”  James told her.  “Your options are a conversation now with Morgan around, hopefully before any kind of lunch rush happens, or no conversation and you can walk back to Utah.”

”That’s rude.  The Mormons would never make a lady walk.”  She looked more than a little worried though, that James was serious.  “Though… they’d do it to a demon, I guess.  Hey, did I say I wasn’t perfect?”

”Yeah, want to explain that?”  James asked, deciding he’d rather save his jokes for later.

Three Oh Six shrugged, adjusting the sweatshirt she was wearing.  ”Well, prophets don’t know everything.  And I can’t really talk to homeworld, okay?”

Morgan had set his phone on the table and was looking at texts or something, but he looked up at that.  “How’s it work?”  He asked.  “I mean, the mechanics of it.  Like, what are the rules to the magic?”

”Rules?”  Three Oh Six grimaced and shook her head.  “I dunno about rules, sorry boys.  Uh… okay, you know how we’re semi-immortal?”

”…I’m going to try to strangle you and test that if you don’t explain faster.”  James pressed his eyes closed.

”Jesus, calm down!  I mean, my kind of people usually get put back in bodies if we ever get killed!  Also I can’t really be strangled, you’d just rip part of my body away and I’d be pissed.  Anyway.  We lose some time, some memories, but what we get is a dream.”  Three Oh Six went quiet, her voice turning reverent as she looked down at the false skin of her hands.  “Every time we ‘die’, homeworld takes us back.  And it shows us what we’re doing that helps it, what isn’t working, maybe makes some suggestions or gives some hints.  Little things.  Never a chat, just a nudge.  Except…” she smiled to herself, the first genuine smile James had seen on her, and also one that looked more than a little fanatical.  “Except for those chosen to be prophets.  We get a directive.  A mission.  Clear instructions, and the authority to make a decision for homeworld.  And it feels…”

She stopped talking, staring down at the table with that distant, reverent smile.  On the other side of the varnished wood, James and Morgan slowly tilted their heads so their eyes could meet, both of them wearing an expression that said well, this feels kind of fucked up.

”That’s… coooool.”  Morgan extracted several extra seconds from the word.  “That does answer my question.  Uh.  So you can’t die?”

”Don’t know!”  Three Oh Six said happily.  “Sometimes people don’t seem to come back, and the first time is always scary.  But nothing’s kept me dead for long.”  She brought a fist up and thumped it over her heart.  “Or, what, you think I’d just challenge a group of invaders for fun?  No safety net?”  She raised mimicked eyebrows at James.

“Three Oh Six, I’m not gonna lie to you,” James partially lied, “I’ve seen humans decide to try to rush a heavily armed delver team with a knife.  Dungeon creations are often - possibly deliberately - a little more reckless, a little more self destructive, and a little more antisocial.  If you told me you had an inbuilt pleasure response to being shot at, I wouldn’t disbelieve you.”

She pulled a face.  ”That’s a weird thing to jump to?  Have I just been hanging around puritans too much, or is it weird that you jumped to gunplay as a kink?”

”It’s called tr-“ Morgan bit down on his lip, cutting himself off sharply as he looked away.

James smothered a laugh and elbowed the teenager.  “No no, I wanna hear this one.”

”No way.”  Morgan shook his head.  “I cannot make jokes like that around actual adults.”  He insisted.

”Ouch.”  James laughed through the strange mood.  “Okay.  So, Three Oh Six, you’re saying you respawn?  That’s insane.  Not that I don’t believe you, but that… I mean, I wonder if other dungeons do that!  There’s…” there was a cat he’d owe an apology to.  But at least he’d be able to give one.  “There’s a comfort in that kind of safety net.  Especially for someone like me.”  James shook off that thought.  “Okay.  So, you get a revelation from a literal higher power when-“

”Oh, we’re pretty sure homeworld’s heart is in the depths.”  Three Oh Six said.  “I only tell you that because I don’t think anyone can find it anyway.  I love my home but it’s a lot, you know?”

”I’m aware.”

”You’re not!”  She laughed.

James had a lot more questions now.  But one was the important one.  “So what is the message then?  You literally died to bring me this, and you…” he paused.  “Hang on!  Why the hell were you worried about us killing you if you can’t die?!”  He asked loudly, drawing a concerned look from at least one of the people who’d come in and were ordering lunch.

”It still hurts!”  Three Oh Six shot back indignantly.  “And… actually you don’t need to know!  Look, divine prophet!  Special message for you!  Isn’t that more important?”

”She’s bad at being evasive.”  Morgan muttered.

James nodded at his younger knight.  “I’m getting that.”  He muttered back.  “Tell me I’m not wrong about what I’m thinking.”

”She was a little less panicked until we came here, even if she knows we won’t hurt her now.  Distance from the dungeon, I guess?”  Morgan whispered back just barely loud enough for James to hear and certainly below Three Oh Six’s range of hearing.  “Why tell us this at all?  Oh.  She’s just… oversharing.”  Morgan leaned back, nodding to himself knowingly as he recognized the… was it an emotion or a panic response?  He didn’t know.  But either way, he had a lot of experience shooting himself in the foot by talking too much when he could have just said nothing and no one would have noticed.  He was, after all, a teenager.

It was really weird to him to be able to recognize that from an outside perspective with his Judgment stat.  But kind of reassuring somehow.

James didn’t make any sign of having heard Morgan while Three Oh Six was distracted, but he did really want to get to a thing she wasn’t saying.  “I’ll admit the last one was my fault, but can you please deliver your message.”  He said directly.

”Oh, yeah, right, I can do that.”  She frowned at Morgan again, and then gave a nervous look to a human and umbral pair that had sat near them before continuing on to stare at the formation of chanters that had just entered and were silently putting off an aura of hunger that made James want another sandwich.  “But we could-“

Crossing his arms, James shifted himself to a solid position in his chair.  ”I know your full name if using that against you works the same way it does for humans.”  He threatened.

”Fine, Christ.”  She took a deep breath, and her voice changed.  Not unnaturally, just in the way that people’s voices did when they were saying something with more weight than casual conversation.  “Homeworld, Saint’s Lot, The Pylon Motoric, formally extends an offer of alliance and cooperation to you, Paladin Lyle.”  Three Oh Six said, eyes half closed as if she were speaking words she didn’t really remember all the way.  And James froze, a deer trapped in headlights.  “This prophet is vested with the authority to negotiate terms, with the aid of several others.  We have a lot to offer each other, and a lot of problems closing in, and maybe together we can be more than we are apart.”  She opened her eyes and met James’ own, a solemn look that suddenly made the setting of a sandwich shop full of refurbished furniture from a doomed city somewhat out of place.  “Homeworld wishes to safeguard its people.  And you wish to save everyone.  And it is willing to make a trade with you to accomplish both goals.”

For a minute, James sat in silence.  This was… out of nowhere.  But it also wasn’t.  The Pylon had always been one of the more strangely active dungeons, operating on the same level as Officium Mundi in previous years when the Office had sent out agents and assassins.  And the oilslicks, while not unified clearly, had a lot more agency and drive.  And Three Oh Six didn’t just seem like she was working for her dungeon, she sounded devoted.

It was a shock to be addressed directly.  A shock to be sought out like the dungeon knew him personally and wanted him on its team.  It was also weird to think that the Pylon itself wanted an alliance.  Not the shapeshifters in it, but the whole dungeon.

Only… not the whole dungeon.  Because James had noticed a distinct absence of any non-oil-based life forms making this offer.  And he had a gnawing concern about where, exactly, the ratlings fell in this equation.  Hell, he wondered what the dungeon thought about its pangrollins and hazard cones and its dragons too.  But once he started on that train of thought he realized he wanted to know a ton more things about the dungeon and its ecosystem and design and thoughts and everything.

Through Kiki, the Order could talk to Clutter Ascent, but it was very obviously a young dungeon that was still growing up in a lot of ways.  And also those conversations could be measured in seconds.  Clutter didn’t do prophetic dreams or soft catching of the souls of stuff animals - not that any of them had died, though, so maybe she did - and she didn’t understand her own choices in terms of what she was making either.  She made things because they excited her.  There was no broad strategy or defensive tactic behind it; she didn’t even generate her rewards with the intent to help the Order, she just made things that she thought were beautiful.

So the opportunity to learn more about the why and how of a dungeon?  From the dungeon?  James was tempted to agree to that alliance on the spot with the only condition being that he wanted an interview.  How did it make life?  Why did it design the terrain that way?  Where did the magic come from?  What fed it?  How was a dungeon impacted by life being removed from it the way the Order kidnapped ratroaches or camracondas?  Could a dungeon starve?  Be killed?  Be chained?

Maybe those were inappropriate questions to ask someone who you were interviewing.  James dialed back his hypothetical curiosity a notch.

”…There’s no definitive article.”  James said as Three Oh Six kept staring at him waiting for a reply.

”W-What?”

“In Pylon Motoric.  We don’t use a ‘the’.”  James said, buying time for himself to sigh and look out the front window to where the grey evening was rapidly turning into a murky night.  The drizzle of rain dying off and leaving everything damp as the sun gradually slipped away.  “I’m going to need to talk to a lot of people.”  He said quietly, realizing his precious potential free time was slipping through his fingers like sand.

Three Oh Six stared at him.  “That’s your takeaway from this?  Are you… wait, is homeworld not… is this normal for you?”  She demanded.

”Oh!”  James realized how this looked while Morgan gave his best impression of a sensible chuckle.  “No!  Sorry, I’m just having a day.  We’ve never had an offer like this before.”  He said, giving away a little information for free.  Because, well, if they were going to figure out any kind of alliance or even just open some kind of line of trade, then they were going to need to be honest.

The Order’s standing policy was that openness and honesty in diplomacy was going to be their operational default.  And if anyone took advantage of that, they’d just stop dealing with them, and explain loudly why.  Because they had teleporters, and there were very few situations they couldn’t  just walk away from.

”Okay, hey,” Morgan leaned his elbows on the table, pushing past James and speaking up over the sound of conversation and broadcast feeling of savoring flavor filling the little restaurant, “what’s up with the people that kidnapped me then?”  He asked.  “Are they also gonna respawn?”

”…did you kill them?”  Three Oh Six asked with a sudden worried look.

”Not this time.”  James said.  “Though they seemed actively determined to disrupt you, personally, now that I think about it.  So…?”

”They’re not with homeworld.  But they’ll still come back.  Uh… you know, if they come back.”  Three Oh Six shrugged again, turning away to not meet anyone’s eyes, her face actually rippling and shifting as the black oil of her body covered some of her features.  Which was a good way to hide a reaction, James figured, but it did sort of give something away.

“What about those of you that actually join the Mormons?”  James asked.  “Any faction, I mean.  Or, like… I mean the religion.  If an oilslick converts, what happens?”

The shapeshifter gave him a curious look.  “I mean… they can, I guess?  That feels weird though.  Homeworld is already kind of our god in every way that matters, right?  Why wait to gamble on something when we’ve already got everything that something is offering, you know?”  She frowned.  “I guess they’ll still revive.  Probably.  Unless their new god takes over the process?  I'll be straight with you, I don't think Mormons use the word 'god' like we do, if you know what I mean.  Anyway, I know there’s some out there, I guess, I just don’t talk to them, they seem weird.”

”Can I ask something?”  Morgan said in a subdued voice.

”What?  Yeah, sure kid.  I thought we were already doing the interrogation.”  The oilslick raised eyebrows, but only partly at him.  She was definitely looking up toward the counter and considering a second serving of food as the constant clashing waves of appreciation and hunger and satiation crested over her from the chanters that were currently mowing through a laden plate of cucumber sandwiches like they were afraid the food might vanish if they took too long.

Morgan’s smile was a little sheepish, but his question wasn’t.  “What’s it like?”  He asked.

”What’s what like?”  She replied.  “Being like this?”  Three Oh Six held up a hand where skin rippled and slid away to long black liquid fingers before reforming in a more human form.

”No, that’s normal.”  Morgan disarmed her without even really putting effort in.  “I mean, what’s your homeworld like?  The Pylon?”

”There’s no-“

”Pylon Motoric is its own thing, if it’s just the Pylon then it gets the the.”  James intercepted.

Three Oh Six rolled her eyes and looked like she was going to argue, but the question from Morgan caught up to her, and she found herself staring over his head with a far away look in her eyes.  “It’s such a cool place to be.”  Three Oh Six said, smiling.  “I don’t wanna say that your world is bad or anything, you guys have, like…” she trailed off.

James waited maybe too long for that to keep going.  “We have… a sky?”

”Your sky is lame.  The sky in homeworld is so much cooler.  What does yours have?  Blue?  Fuck off.  Sometimes, the soarers fly through the clouds in flocks, and their eyes bring out colors that you’d never know were there otherwise.  These long trailing streaks of red and purple and green, all glowing for hours after if it was a big enough flock.  And it curls around like whole new dragons.  Sometimes we’d sit and watch that for hours, like the world itself was bleeding color into the sky.”  She smiled, lost in her own memory.  “There’s so much else in there that I haven’t even found yet, you guys.  Every time you find the top of a tower, you can see taller ones around you.  There’s always something deeper or higher or further to explore.  I once followed a painted trail for a week just because the style homeworld was playing with looked so cool and I wanted to see what was next.  Lost that one when Three Oh Seven got a little trampled when we stumbled into a tapper’s territory, but no one died so it was fine.  And, okay, I’ll give you this, you guys have some good food.  But for me?  I’ve never had anything as good as the first time I got taken to a wellerbeast.  It’s… it’s like… I don’t know what it’s like, but our tower found one that was active and there was a party for days when we got the pumps working and got to drink.  Have you ever tasted something that was made for you?  Made by something that loved you, that created a whole food just for you?”

”Not really.”  Morgan said, listening attentively.

”You should come over for dinner sometime.”  James offered.

Three Oh Six ignored them.  ”Well that’s my home.  That’s homeworld.  My tower and a few others have secret homes built out of the best parts of a thousand bits of useful resources.  We’ve got everything we need, and the whole world literally works to give it to us.  If we want adventure, there’s so much to explore, but if we don’t, the village is there for us to be safe and make music or learn to paint like homeworld does.  If I ever get tired, maybe I’ll go farm rubbernecks or something.  Or go find another tower to roam and meet.  That’s home.  A place where sometimes there’s a whole garden growing out of the walls, and then I can sneak through and see a camp of my kin that will give me directions and stories and maybe a little blending.”  Her smile slipped as she looked at James.  “And that’s what’s on the line.”  She said more somberly.

It was interesting to hear this kind of thing from the other side.  Because, James figured, she probably sounded like how James sounded when he was talking about Townton.  She sounded like someone who loved her home.  Not just a casual resident, but like the sort of person that would never not describe themselves as a New Yorker, no matter where they moved or how long they were gone.

“Can you explain the Mormons then?”  James asked.

The oilslick blinked with eyes that rippled black for a moment as her eyelids peeled back.  “What, in general?  I dunno, that’s a human thing that was around a long time before me.  I’m not fresh, but I’m not that old!”

”No, I mean, explain their whole ark project.”  James elucidated while his hands gestured lightly over the table.  “From what we understand, that was kind of put there by your people.  So what’s up with that?  There’s still a pretty big faction working to stockpile a lot of humans inside the Pylon.  And from what I personally know about dungeon ecology, having delvers living inside a dungeon can be really bad for it.  So what’s up with that?”

”Oh!”  Three Oh Six shrugged.  “I wasn’t prophet for that one, but I know what you’re talking about.  Uh… not sure how much I’m supposed to tell you.”

Morgan pointed a friendly finger gun at her.  ”You did say your homeworld was trusting you to negotiate?”  He said.

”Fair enough!”  Three Oh Six shrugged again with a light chuckle.  “Well.  I know it started because homeworld made a deal with someone scary.  But it does feed on the whole thing!  The thing that we’re supposed to make sure to deal with is if anyone… you know, starts living in there.  But not even just living, it’s more like, if someone who doesn’t belong tries to conquer a part of homeworld, that hurts it.”

”So in this case, it’s different, because they’re people you’re… tricking is the wrong word, enticing in?”  James was really curious about this mechanism.  “Like because you’re doing it from the inside, it’s good for the dungeon instead of poisonous?”

The oilslick fidgeted with the stack of red baskets on their table as she answered.  “It’s probably also because they don’t actually have control of the tower like they think they do?  Like we’ve got a lot of people in there.  We’re getting good at sneaking into organizations.”  She widened her eyes slightly before trying to downplay that sentence.  “I mean, mostly just one organization.”

James could almost feel Morgan vibrating with the need to say something sarcastic.  Fortunately, the younger human held back, and James got to continue.  “Sure.  Just kind of trying to understand dungeon feeding mechanisms.”  He really, really wanted a clear picture on it.  Especially since there was definitely a voice within the Order that wanted to kill the Sewer or, better yet, the Underburbs before it struck again.  He also hadn’t missed that little tidbit about ‘a deal’.  Aku hard at work, most likely.  A Necessary Evil doing something ominous behind the scenes.

James needed to remember to ask JP if he’d ever found that bastard’s home office, just for future reference.  And maybe a future heist.

”If people spending too long in dungeons is bad,” Morgan started to ask with growing concern, “does that mean we might be messing with Clutter?”

”Surprisingly no!”  James said happily.  “I’m guessing that it’s working somewhere on the same level as the ark thing here.”  He explained with a motion to Three Oh Six.  “None of us are claiming chunks of Clutter, and we’re technically being drawn in by the things that she’s doing, so it probably ‘counts’.  Though it does feel weird to think of a life process as operating on technicalities, but that’s magic I guess.”

Three Oh Six made an uninterested noise.  “You gonna say anything about the actual offer?”  She asked James.  “I kinda spent a lot of effort looking for you, and if you’re going to kidnap me halfway across a continent the least you could do is ask about the deal and not just background questions!”

“I’ve got more questions.”  James said with a vicious smile.  He wasn’t trying to be mean, and he did actually make an attempt to not be too smug about how Three Oh Six’s face fell.  But this was an opportunity, and even if it wasn’t going to be a unique one if the dungeon itself as well as the partisan oilslicks were serious about an alliance, it was still hard to pass up getting some of the easy stuff out of the way.  “How does the dungeon view delvers?  Like us?”

”You guys make a mess, but homeworld actually likes you I think.  Like, you mess stuff up but then leave… I think the Earth term would be… what, fertilizer?  Like after a big forest fire stuff grows back easier, right?  Is that your world, or is that just the pairworld?”

”Oh yeah!  Let’s talk about the Garden!”  James slapped his forehead.  “Explain that!”

”…What do you mean? What’s to explain?  It’s not our place, but homeworld loves it, so we do too.”

”What do you mean what do I mean?!”  James laughed.  “It’s a binary dungeon!  How does it work, how did it happen?  I guess you kind of confirmed that it’s not just one dungeon with two sides, so are they communicating?  How much did they plan out the magic system?  Is there any life that overlaps the two?  Actually, tied into the arkist thing, if the Pylon gets a huge amount of nourishment from something like that, does it share with the Venture?”  He took a deep breath.  “Oh, and you’re sort of right about forest forest but they reduce biodiversity, and I assume that doesn’t happen to the dungeon.”

Three Oh Six looked like she was reconsidering if she really was that averse to being killed.  “It… doesn’t?  The last one, it doesn’t.  Adventurers or assholes come through, and homeworld has an easy time repairing what they break but it’s also a chance to make easy changes, so it likes that.  It’s why there’s so many doors.”  She stared ahead with a tight look around her eyes, a tiny amount of skin slipping into rippling oil from the stress as she tried to focus.  “I don’t remember anything you just asked.  Can you write that down?”

“Absolutely.”  James was already making her a list on a napkin.

Three Oh Six took a minute to try to figure out where the pen he was holding had come from before James just tossed it aside and it vanished.  ”Okay.  Explain that first.”

Morgan gave her that look he was getting a lot of mileage out of, like it was incredibly obvious.  “It’s a Townton pen.”  He told the oilslick.  “If you need a pen, just focus on it and grab one.”  He made a motion with his hand, prompting Three Oh Six to try it, the shapeshifter finding an enchanted pen appearing in her fingers as she brought her hand in front of her face.

”Where do they go?”  She asked, throwing it into the air and then grabbing another pen, noticing that they were different pens.

”Oh.  That’s a good question!”  Morgan smiled.

“Holy hell you guys are weird.”  Three Oh Six said as James finished writing out his questions.  “Okay.  Let’s go.”  She took the napkin, sliding it around to face her with one finger.  “Uh… no idea how it happened.  I don’t think homeworld knows either.  They do work together, we know that much.  Pairworld doesn’t have anyone like us though, it’s more… I don’t know, it’s different.  I know they connected the magic on purpose so we could use each others, but we can’t use our own anyway.”  She shifted her fingers to frame the next question, and smiled.  “Already told you about the soarers.  Though yeah, sometimes things slip from one side to the other and never come back.  There’s some weirdos I used to know who wanted to live in the green.  Oh, the goblins I guess.”

”The ratlings?”  James asked with a frown.  “It is kind of weird that there’s so many in the Pylon when they don’t seem like they’re made for it.”

Three Oh Six shrugged.  “They kind of suck, yeah.”  She said, which was not what James had said at all and his frown deepened at the words.  “But actually?  No idea what side they’re from.  They don’t really belong anywhere, I dunno why whichever world makes them at all.”

”But it is deliberate cooperation.”

”Well yeah.”  Three Oh Six said.  “I think that’s how both places got so big.  It’s not like they tell us about it, but sometimes one of us will get a dream about new places.  And it’s not like anyone’s ever gotten to the edge of the world or anything yet.  So they must be doing something right!”

James took in the information, already shoving it into a poorly organized text file through his skulljack that was going to be launched into the Order’s midst as soon as this conversation was over.  Along with a more general clarion call to summon people to actually figure out what they were doing.  It wasn’t every day that a dungeon itself decided to say hi, after all.  In fact, before now, it was exactly one day, once, and that dungeon was a lot less dangerous.

“So the Pylon wants to ally.”  James gave the increasingly frazzled looking oilslick a lifeline.  “What’s that look like?”

”I have no idea!”  She actually laughed at the absurdity of it.  “I know I’m supposed to find you, and make it happen, but that’s it!”  Three Oh Six caught James’ incredulous look, as well as Morgan’s more open mouthed disbelief, and shook her head while holding up her hands defensively.  “I mean I‘m not totally stupid.  I’ve got some ideas.  But I didn’t think I’d get this far!”

Morgan pinched the bridge of his nose in a way James found suspiciously familiar, the teenager sounding a little too sarcastic as he said, “You know I’ve got experience with weird religions, and normally if your object of worship tells you to do something, you go into it with a little more confidence than this?”

”Morgan, be straight with me, have you been telling camracondas to do things?”  James asked.

”Nah, they stopped asking a long time ago, it’s cool.”

”Okay, I just ask because of… everything you just said.”

”I did ask Outline-Of-Green to bring me food once when I was sick, but I don’t really know if I realized it was a thing at the time.”  Morgan admired.

”Your life is so fucking weird.”  James told the kid.  Morgan just stared at him mouth half open and eyes squinted, until James looked away like he’d said something totally normal.  Ignoring the psychic damage he’d inflicted on the aspirant to instead look at Three Oh Six, who also appeared to be having the most confusing conversation of her life.  “I have a few suggestions to start with.”

She smiled.  ”Hit me.”

”The first option is that we just… get along.  Casual affiliation.  We kind of do this with the Northern Oklahoma Proud Grandparents Adventuring Society already; we’re friends, but we don’t have a treaty or shared command structure.”  James ignored her mouthing the words Northern Oklahoma… with a baffled expression on her mimicked human face.  “The next step up, and probably what your homeworld intended, is that we do codify what we’re exchanging.  Figure out what specific ways we’re willing to commit to helping each other, start working on a mutual defense agreement, trade lines between your home and ours, that kind of thing.”

”We aren’t a nation.”  Three Oh Six pointed out.  “You’re talking like you’re a country, but you’re a small town.  The city our homeworld is stuck in the middle of had more people than this.”

”For now.”  James nodded.  “But not forever.  And a dungeon is a nation waiting to happen.  Especially if you describe the home you’ve spent your whole life exploring and you say you’ve never seen the edge.”  He pointed across the table at her, maintaining a steady gaze.  “Things are falling apart.  It might be an unnervingly near future where small states are the only states, and our alliance might mean more than you’d think.”

”…I’m clueing in to why homeworld wanted me to talk to you…”

”Oh I’m bad at this.” James said, knowing he wasn’t one of the actual experts in the Order, just someone who did his best to keep educated.  “I’m not even sure where we’d start on negotiating.  North Smiths is almost a warzone, just with less bombs and more daily skirmishes.  And what would we even trade?  What do you want?  We don’t really sell magic, but that might be the biggest resource your dungeon has to offer us, and we already know the Pylon likes us delving it so just letting us in isn’t exactly a deal, you know?”

Three Oh Six scowled.  “You dick.”  She accused James, thinking of the litany of questions he’d had.

”Honesty is the foundation for any good deal, don’t be a dumbass.”  He shot back.  “Or, what, you want to sell us something that you’d give away for free and then deal with everyone being pissy when the truth inevitably came out?”

Morgan propped his elbow on the table, abandoning his idly fidgeting as he tried to not get bored to raise his hand.  “I’d hate that!  Lying is a great way to make people assume you’re always lying.”  He said apropos of nothing.

”Fine.  Whatever.  So what do we trade then?”

”Well that’s the thing.  We might not have any specific resources or tools right off the top of my head, but we can offer education, training, and an embassy of sorts out here on Earth.  And you can offer guidance and information about the deeper parts of the dungeon.  So that’s a start.”  James tapped at his chin.  “Helping keep each other safe is another thing.  We know there’s hostile groups in the world that kill dungeons, and we’re willing to fight them alongside you guys.  That gives you all the assurance that we’ll be on your side if that ever happens to your homeworld, while also giving us more manpower for operations where we need to deal with those kinds of groups.”

”I think that might be more what homeworld was thinking, yeah.”  Three Oh Six admitted.  “I’m not saying we’ve had to deal with anything like that, yet, but it sure does feel like there’s jerks with guns running around the Earthside of the breaches hunting down anything magic.  It really started getting bad around the time the ark thing almost fumbled.”

”Oh yeah?”  James raised his eyebrows.

”Yeah, I don’t know the specifics, but whoever homeworld was dealing with left the city.  I think there was a fight or something?  Dunno.  I’ve been outside a lot, but there’s so much.  Your friends were barely scratching at it, there’s thousands of people picking at each other.”

That was interesting information.  Typically if someone shot James, he didn’t just leave, though he might be weird.  It was strange that Aku - and he knew it was Aku - had pulled out after being confronted.  If the timeline actually matched up that things had started to backslide once he was gone, that was almost worse.  That meant something weird was going on.  Maybe something that had disrupted Aku’s pillar ability-slash-requirement to find a necessary action to take in the Utah city.

“So the Pylon is looking for protection, is what I’m hearing.”  He prompted her.

Three Oh Six thought for a second and then shook her head.  “Nnnno.  No, I mean, I know that if I can get that, it’s welcome.  But it’s not the reason.”  She looked down at the table.  “It feels like you’ll either hate this, or understand better than anyone.  What I remember from the dream?”  She paused for a moment to glance at the umbral that had come in and seemed like he was staring her direction.  “My home wants to be more powerful.”  She said quietly.

”Oh.  Yeah, okay, that makes sense.”  James nodded.

”I was really sure you’d be mad about that.”  Three Oh Six said.  “You’ve got that kind of self-righteous vibe.  No offense.”

”I’m a little offended!”  Morgan chimed in.

Pulling on an ancient memory of someone that he wished were here now, James tried to give a charming smile.  “Power isn’t evil.”  He told the oilslick.  “In my capacity as a paladin, I have an absurd amount of personal power.  The Order has a lot of organizational power.  Your home dungeon has a lot of magical power.  None of that makes any of us bad or harmful or even really dangerous.  But it does give us a responsibility.”

”Power wants to be used.”  Three Oh Six nodded solemnly, cadence of someone quoting something.  “I heard that before from one of the ark spies.  He said that the worst thing you could do was nothing.  I think that’s kind of stupid, because the worst thing you could do would be to start pushing people over edges, but…”

”Yeah, no, you’re right.”  James barked out a laugh.  “The worst case is using power like an asshole!  But your Pylon, well… I dunno!  What would it do with more power?  What would you do with more power?  I already know there’s points I want to argue about, like how you talk about the ratlings.  But before I start giving you fireballs and health potions, I want to know.  What do you want?”

”Me?”  Three Oh Six paused, and then straightened her spine, a strange thing for someone who was mostly liquid to do, James muse.  “I want to protect homeworld.  I want everyone to just relax, so I can get back to exploring the far towers and maybe even the pairworld sometime.  That’s about it, I guess.”

”What about your enemies?  The godeaters, or the various Mormon factions?”

”I don’t fucking care about them.”  Three Oh Six said.  “The godeaters are idiots but they aren’t gonna succeed.  They think they can control homeworld, like it’s a tool.  So I guess I’m asking you to help fight them too.  And the Mormons can keep coming in if they want, but if they try to take any of my people as slaves again I want the ability to blow their heads off.  But I’ve already got a shotgun and I know that works.”

“And what does the Pylon want?  Not just power, but what would it do with that power?”

”Grow, I hope.”  Three Oh Six said wistfully.  “Get bigger.  Get weirder.  Get cooler.  Make more doors in more places?  I hope it wants it so it can keep itself safe.  The dreams sometimes tell us about these monsters out on Earth that I never want to see, so maybe it wants something for that?  I don’t know why it wants you to help.  I met you guys once, but… maybe home just knows something I don’t.”

James tapped the tabletop.  “What if that doesn’t sound like enough?  What if a condition was using any shared power to do good for more people?”

”What, like the go- ratlings?”  The mimic asked.  “Or you mean humans?  No, you’re not like that.  There’s too many weird shapes around here.  You mean people from other worlds.”

With a smile, James nodded.  ”Well, humans too.”  He added.

”So, what.  You’ll agree to be allies as long as we risk our asses being heroes for you?”

It was a bit of an uncharitable way to frame it.  Not wrong, just a little hostile.  James laughed it off.  “It would help.”  He said.  “Power isn’t always zero-sum, but if we’re giving resources and magic and labor to you, then it does need to at least line up with our goals of building a glorious future for the world.  And every world.”

Three Oh Six ducked her head down, pressing her palms into her forehead.  ”Oh hell, you’re one of those.”  She muttered.

“I am.  The Order in general is.  Which leads me to option number three.”  James said, holding up his hand and tapping an extended finger as if he’d been counting this whole time.  “The Pylon is, clearly, both thinking and awake, yes?”

”Well awake enough, it does mostly talk through dreams, so…”

He did not refrain from rolling his eyes this time.  “You want to protect your home.  Your home wants to protect itself too.  I want to protect everyone’s homes, and also, make every home a wonderful and comfortable and safe place.”  James set his hand on the table, unfolding his fingers in an offering gesture.  “Our goals aren’t misaligned at all.  And so I’m going to offer something else, that isn’t exactly an alliance.”

”Holy shit.”  Morgan breathed out as he figured out what James was about to say a moment before James continued.

”I’m not saying that you wouldn’t have to adapt.  I’m not saying that your homeworld has to say yes, or that this is something we’re familiar with and have a plan for.  I’m also not saying that I know what exactly it would mean…”

”Are you saying what you’re saying at all?!”  Three Oh Six demanded, leaning away from James.  “What the hell are you saying, aside from being cryptic?!”

Morgan couldn’t help himself.  Enhanced Judgment or not, he needed to express that he was smart enough to have put it together.  “James is saying that Pylon Motoric is invited to join the Order of Endless Rooms.”  He said with a stunned voice.  “How would that even work?”

”I have no idea!”  James said happily.  “But it is what I’m saying!”

”…you mean…” Three Oh Six’s expression shifted through understanding, to confusion, to disbelief, to something that might have been annoyance, before looping back and starting over, her skin and flesh rippling as her emotions got away from her and she let her true form come out.  Eventually she gave up on holding onto her human form at all, black liquid fingers splaying across her glistening pool of a face as she rubbed at a form that James was certain didn’t feel the same way a human did.  Maybe it was just an affectation.  “You… what?  No!  That’s not what I’m… I can’t even…!”

James shrugged.  ”I’m not asking you to say yes or no now.”  He said, not really expecting a comprehensive response to being invited to join the Order to have been something the dungeon would have planned for.  “I’m saying, this is a point we can start from.  We have options, and you have some time to think about them.”  He pushed his chair back, not standing up but clearly signaling that this chat was coming to a close.  “Now.  You’re welcome to hang out here in Townton for a few days.  We can put you up somewhere, and I can get together the people to have a more serious talk about whatever this alliance might mean.  And also figure out if we even want to be in it.  But my offer is my paladin’s prerogative.  If the Pylon wants to join the Order, and also, if you want to, then that’s an option.”

”I’m not… like you.”  Three Oh Six said, sunken pools of her eyes staring up at James.  “I’m not a hero.”

”Most of the Order isn’t.”  James nodded.  “You’d probably love being a scout.  Maybe a delver?  But we don’t just expect people to sign up and pick up a magic sword to start smiting evil.  Being in the Order is being subjected to the process of continual self-improvement, community building, and maturing.”  He shrugged.  “It’s still happening to me.”  He told her.

”It’s definitely happening to me, even if I don’t want it to.” Morgan grumbled.

The oilslick looked at the young human.  “Wait, are you a prisoner or something?”

”Oh, I’m… sorry that was supposed to be a joke.  I like it here.”  Morgan smiled awkwardly.  “Being in the Order gives you magic too?”  He tried to recover, adding to James’ offer.

James nodded more vigorously.  “That’s true!”  He said.  “Would any of it work on a dungeon? I don’t kn- wait, I do know!  We do have things that affect dungeons positively!  I can actually say that we have something to offer you!”  Green orbs and heard cubes, which were often erratic and more often weren’t that useful.  But it was still something.  “The point is, the Order has a hundred different roles.  And the important part of all of them is that they give us a way to use our power for something that matters.”  He stood up, stretching his sore back and wincing at the pinch of pain in his side from where he’d apparently been injured in Three Oh Six’s home dungeon.

She gave a slow nod.  “Okay.  Okay man.  So… you want us to… work for you?  I don’t know if I can agree to that.  I dunno if homeworld can agree to that.  It might be too close to you claiming a chunk of it?”

”Oh, bodily autonomy is important to us.”  James said seriously.  “You’ll get to see some of that staying here, unless you want to go back with the next batch of Recovery operatives.”  He told her.  “There’s an incredibly weird aspect at play here where I know dungeons have to be some level of dangerous, so I know I can’t ask the Pylon to be safe for us to delve.  But all our delvers are trained and consenting, so if your home wants to manifest farther and weirder and wilder reaches, that we may only see in short moments before running away from some kind of massive concrete slug demon thing?  Radical.  No notes.  A+.  There’s just a weird overlap with how it creates people like you who are people, who also deserve autonomy, you know?”

”Yeah, well, we might have a little too much autonomy.”  Three Oh Six said with what might have been a scowl, a bubbling line across her oil face where her mouth should have been.  Actually, James realized, she wasn’t using her mouth to talk anymore, which was weird.  He had so many biology questions, and not just because of his Lesson.  “Look at the godeaters, right?  A little freedom and they do that.”

”Freedom means that’ll happen.”  James confirmed with a solemn nod.  “People are going to sometimes fuck up.  The best we can do is to take away the reasons to fuck up badly, and minimize the harm when it happens.  Better than just making everyone slaves, right?”

”…Okay, yeah.”  She gave a bubbling brackish sigh.  And then in a quieter voice, looking away from them like she didn’t expect James or Morgan to be listening at all, she muttered to herself.  “Christ. Join up?  I don’t even… but it would be… we could…” Three Oh Six shook herself out of her stupor, and looked back at James.  “Okay.  Not okay okay!  But I’ll stick around for a bit.  Uh… I don’t have a phone though, so…?”

James smiled.  “A recovery agent will be by in about ten minutes to talk to you.  We have a lot of extra phones, you can get one.  I’ll also make sure you get a copy of the operations manual so you can learn a little about us.”  He reached out a hand, fearlessly taking her own grip even as Three Oh Six hesitated, the sensation of thick fluid sliding against his skin and somehow peeling away without leaving a mark strange, but far from the weirdest other species James had handled before.  “Welcome to Townton.  Next time don’t lie to my paladins.”  He said.  “Now!  Morgan and I need to escape!”

”What?  Why?!”  She jolted in panic.

Morgan shoved his chair back under the table with his hip, one of his long arms reaching behind them to slide the stack of food baskets into the bin by the restaurant’s front counter.  “Because,” he told her, “if I’m here for another ten seconds the chanter’s eating is going to make me want another sandwich.”

”Oh Jesus it’s not just me!”  Three Oh Six exclaimed.  “Wait!  Can I…have another…?”

”Yeah, food’s for everyone here.”  James said.  “You’ll need to get in line though.”  He informed her as he followed Morgan, the teen fleeing from the local empathy field of the chant.  The conversation, and initial ‘negotiation’, now well and truly over as Three Oh Six was focused more on further dinner than any kind of technical details of an alliance.

”That was weird.”  Morgan said as the two of them got outside, taking a breath of the fresh and sharply clean air of Townton.  At least, this part of Townton, where all the building debris full of asbestos had mostly been cleared away.  “Right?”

”Which part?”  James groaned.  “I wasn’t expecting this.”

”You should have.”  Morgan said smugly.

James looked over at the teen as they started walking across the logisticor plaza.  “Explain.”  He ordered.

Morgan grinned back at him.  “What, you think I don’t know things?”  He challenged James.  “I hang out with crocamaws all the time.”

”That doesn’t explain.”  James pointed out.

”You don’t…” Morgan’s grin turned into a worried frown.  “You don’t know?”  He asked James.  “It’s you.”  He said, and it was James’ turn to be confused.  “That thing Three Oh Six said, about how you were at the center of things?  That’s, like… I mean it’s true, but it’s not what they noticed.  You were in Utah for a week the first time and you saved a bunch of people and made half the city terrified of you.  Every time you go into the dungeon you do something weird.  The ratlings like you.  The crocamaws like you.  The Mormons think you’re a demon.  I bet the oilers know about you too!  And a lot of the stuff you did happened down there where rumors and stuff can spread!”  Morgan’s grin was back.  “The Pylon is probably talking to other people, too, but it talked to you because you act like you’re a superhero who breaks rules.”

”That’s… no that can’t be right.”  James chuckled.  “I play by plenty of rules.”

”Our rules.”  Morgan said, still smiling.  “Not the rules that say a dungeon can’t play basketball.”

”…Morgan how old are you?”

”Nineteen, why?”

”Morgan what year did Air Bud come out?”

”What’s Air Bud?”

James decided he was going to turn to dust.  “That’s what I thought.”  He sighed.  “Well hey.  Thanks for hanging out for this, you actually were helpful.  But I need to compile all this stuff, and get a diplomatic team put together.”  He looked up at one of the apartment balconies nearby, on one of the structures that was shifted with a recent orange totem trick so that he didn’t have to keep craning his neck until his head fell off, and spotted someone waving to him.  “Also,” he said as he waved back at TQ, “it’s an important time to go on a date with a camraconda.”

”I know the Order is weird and Townton is weirder and I like it, but it’s still kinda uncomfortable when you talk about my personal life.”  Morgan admitted.

”I meant me.”

”Oh.  Oh!  Sorry!”  Morgan blushed.  “Good luck?” He offered.

”Thanks.  I’ll need it.”  James said.  “Dungeon diplomacy?  Easy.  Fascinating, even.  Surviving Cheha, who knows that it’s my fault TQ got shot in the face?  Impossible.”

”You could… escape?”  Morgan asked as they stood on the damp stones of the plaza, lingering in the way that neither of them was good at dealing with, conversation stretching well past where both of their tolerances for socialization was.

James found a lot of kinship in Morgan for that, honestly.  It was kind of cool to watch the kid grow up in real time.

”Get out of here.”  James ordered the teenager with a chuckle.  “Oh, and if you come back here from the Lair later, bring Three Oh Six a phone from Momo’s stash!”

“I dunno what that means!”  Morgan called back over his shoulder as he walked off rapidly, flipping up the collar of his coat in a way James knew the kid thought was cool.

James closed his eyes, standing there and letting Townton flow around him for a minute.  It was cool and the rain was probably going to come back soon and he needed to sit down and actually use a keyboard to type out some stuff.  Also Anesh was making dinner at home tonight and James didn’t want to miss it, or his partners.  Maybe he’d invite TQ and Cheha along, actually.

And then there was more magic.  And more dungeons.  And more danger.

But at least, for right now, in this moment, he felt like the massive surprise was swinging in his favor for a change.

James held onto that feeling with both hands and an iron will.  Because he knew it probably wasn’t gonna last forever.