Chapter 48: Captain’s Caution

Chapter 48: Captain’s Caution The Dungeon Manager ignored the subtle hostility radiating from Captain Luma. Orkesh and Mina, standing beside him, felt the tension in the air, a palpable pressure between the stern Lupen and the unmoving undead. The Manager’s masked face remained serene. "I am the one that manages this establishment," his synthesized voice stated, calm and even. "If you have any questions regarding this fine establishment, I’m sure I can... entertain them." He gestured politely with a gloved hand, inviting her to speak. Luma, however, just stared coldly at the undead dressed like a noble. His tailored suit, his polished demeanor – it all felt like a trick. There was no way she’d believe that this place truly brought harmony and coexistence with the living, even if it was on the surface. Undead are undead, she thought, her grip tightening on her sword hilt. They crave death, not commerce. This is a facade, a trap, or something far more sinister. She was still deeply skeptical about this entire journey. "I am the Knight Captain of Stonehorn Crossing," Luma stated, her voice sharp, cutting through the Manager’s politeness. She held her sword, not drawing it, but letting her hand rest firmly on the scabbard, a clear warning. "I am tasked to make sure that these people behind me aren’t harmed in any way. My responsibility is their safety." She expected a reaction, a defensive posture from the guards, a flicker of anger from the Manager. But nothing. The undead guards didn’t even budge. The Manager’s mask remained impassive. "Of course, Captain," the Manager replied, his voice still smooth, completely unfazed. "The only harm we intend is to their pockets, or perhaps, to ours. We refer to it as a peaceful transaction, a mutually beneficial exchange." A faint, dry chuckle, almost imperceptible, seemed to emanate from behind his mask. Luma eased up slightly, her shoulders relaxing almost imperceptibly. The Manager, seeing this subtle shift, continued, "But please, Captain, don’t let your curiosities stop you. You and your convoy are most welcome to enter." He gestured invitingly to the convoy of beastkins who stood outside the gate, their faces a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The beastkins, hearing this direct invitation, hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside the gate. Approaching the beautiful exterior landscape of the dungeon, seeing it up close, was even more incredible than just seeing it from a distance. The vibrant colors of the flowers, the intricate patterns on the iron fences, the gentle murmur of the fountain – it was all breathtaking. The Ursaroks, or bearfolk, were the most ecstatic. Their eyes, usually calm and steady, widened in childlike wonder as they took in the landscape and the gardens. They were already amazed after they saw the wooden carvings on the tree trunks beside the dirt paths, running their paws over the smooth, sculpted wood. "By the gods!" one Ursarok exclaimed, his deep voice rumbling. "Look at this! The detail!" Another Ursarok, a female with a keen eye for art, stepped forward, her large paws almost trembling with excitement. She approached the Manager, her voice earnest. "Is your establishment up for commission? We have a new function hall being built, and a grand statue of our hero would be... magnificent." The Ursaroks loved art more than anyone, and seeing a dungeon’s front yard so full with it was like heaven for them. They loved every little detail that was poured into it. The Manager’s head tilted slightly. "At this time, esteemed guests, we do not accept external commissions for our large-scale exterior works," he replied. "However," he added, his voice dropping slightly, "I assure you, there is much more art to see inside. Our interior displays may well pique your interest further." The Ursaroks, hearing this hint, their eyes gleaming with anticipation, followed the Manager inside, eager to discover more artistic treasures. Meanwhile, Orkesh and Mina were swarmed by the other beastkins. A group of curious Goatfolk immediately started asking about the food, while a few Foxkins, their eyes shrewd, inquired about the general market operations and any exclusive deals. "Are the meals really that good?" a plump Goatfolk asked Orkesh, his belly rumbling. "They are beyond good, friend," Orkesh replied, a genuine smile on his face. He remembered his own first taste. "And surprisingly affordable. You must try the ’burger set’." Mina, meanwhile, was explaining the market layout to a curious Lupen merchant. "The main hall offers a variety of goods – from finely crafted weapons to intricate wooden artistry. Further in, you’ll find our accommodations and other services." Orkesh and Mina had been trained by the Manager on how to handle inquiries and how to answer all kinds of questions, but entertaining so many eager beastkins at once was way beyond what they expected. Still, they performed better than what the Manager had anticipated, their newfound confidence shining through. They answered questions patiently, guided visitors, and kept the flow of traffic moving smoothly. Luma, observing all of this, felt her burdens ease a bit. The undead, not only employing but seemingly training these kobolds, was a strange sight. They weren’t enslaved; they moved with purpose, spoke with confidence. She sighed, a long, drawn-out breath. "How did I end up here?" she muttered to herself, shaking her head. "I’m the Knight Captain. I should be fighting monsters, not escorting traders to... this." Despite her internal grumbling, she signaled her elite soldiers to follow them inside. She approached Orkesh, who was directing a group of curious Gryphons towards the weapon stalls. "Are my men allowed inside with their weapons?" she asked, her voice still firm, but with less edge. Orkesh, realizing she was asking if armed soldiers were permitted, nodded confidently. "Yes, Captain. All visitors are welcome, and we understand the need for personal security. Just ensure weapons remain sheathed unless absolutely necessary." Luma nodded, a flicker of grudging respect in her eyes. This was a level of order and acceptance she hadn’t expected from an undead-run establishment. She then followed the beastkins, with her elite soldiers forming a disciplined line behind her, up the grand staircase towards the main entrance. She was glad they were allowed inside, thus gaining a sliver of her trust in this weirdness. Who would’ve thought that a market was so meticulously designed to welcome commoners and traders alike? But more than that, she knew this was her chance. Inside, she could find out who the true owner of this dungeon really was. She wouldn’t leave until she had answers. Inside, the bearfolk were welcomed by a cool, consistent air emanating from the hallway, a stark contrast to the outside world. But this comfort was overshadowed by the sheer amount of artistic design of the dungeon. They were too stunned to say anything. An Ursarok finally said something "By the Ancestors’ paws!" one Ursarok gasped, his voice a low rumble. "This isn’t a dungeon, it’s a palace!" "Indeed, Look at the carvings!" another exclaimed, pointing a thick paw at the walls. "Every stone tells a story!" The others, though not as overtly enthusiastic as the bearfolk, were equally stunned. The silence from the usually boisterous merchant convoy was loud enough to speak volumes. As they approached the center lobby, a massive stone pillar erected at the center, its surface intricately carved with swirling patterns that seemed to glow from within. Lush green plants spilled from its base, and smooth stone benches curved around it, inviting everyone to rest. The walls were even more stunning, intricately designed and carved, with what looked like light elemental stones struck in ornate holders that acted more like magnificent chandeliers. It was so bright inside, a warm, inviting glow that banished any thought of dungeon gloom. The air was consistently cooler, a perfect temperature that made them sigh in comfort. The transition hit them, making them wonder where the cool air came from, how it was maintained in such a vast underground space. Nevertheless, it was comfortable enough to make them forget the outside world. Then, the aroma of the canteen hit their noses. It was a powerful, irresistible smell of seasoning and delicious food. Their stomachs growled in unison, a chorus of hunger. Even Captain Luma and her soldiers, usually stoic, were equally stunned, seeing the place. Though most of it was material made of stone, it was carved in a way to make it more welcoming, with vines and potted plants on the walls, as well as light stones to illuminate it. Luma had thought inside would be dim and dark, filled with the smell of corpses and damp, old stone. But she was never more wrong. Instead, she smelled that aroma lingering in the air – the rich, savory scent of venison meat, grilled to perfection with an array of seasonings, mingling with the comforting aroma of stews and other meals. Her own unique Lupen physiology, with its amplified sense of smell, made it so that she could detect every detail, not just the faint, tell-tale scent of undead, but down to every subtle nuance that a normal beastkin couldn’t detect. The smell of the food was so good, so overwhelmingly delicious, that it made her paws let go of her sword hilt. She felt a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure wash over her, a state of euphoria brought on by the sheer intensity of the aroma. It was a smell far superior to anything from the inns on Stonehorn Crossing. It was too good to ignore, too good to question what was real and what wasn’t. Her soldiers also felt the same, their disciplined postures slumping slightly as their stomachs growled loudly, betraying their hunger. Hearing this collective rumble of stomachs, the Manager chuckled, a dry, soft sound from behind his mask. He gestured towards the bustling canteen. "Please, esteemed guests," he said, his synthesized voice carrying clearly through the hall. "Our establishment offers affordable meals that everyone can enjoy. Don’t let me stop you from experiencing our culinary delights. Please, enjoy." The beastkins, their hunger now overpowering their awe, walked towards the canteen, a hungry procession. But even as they moved towards the promise of food, they were still amazed by the wonders of the dungeon’s interior, their eyes constantly darting around, taking in every impossible detail.