Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series) by Alex Oakchest (book suggestions txt) 📕

“Very funny. I’ll just write ‘traveling prat.’ And you? A core of some kind, no doubt?”

“You’re wasted on gate duty,” I said. “You should be the town’s lead investigator.”

“A right pair of comedians, eh?” said a guard.

The other one leaned closer to me. “Listen, core. Hogsfeate knows how to deal with lumps of rock like you, oh yes. We won’t be tricked again. One word out of place, the faintest whisper of wrongdoing, and we have places we can keep one like you. Dark places, places where the sounds of screams never escape.”

“Sounds lovely,” I said. “I need a holiday. But let me ask you, do you treat all visitors to this speech?”

“Don’t need to. Most bipedal folks can be trusted to behave.”

“Bipedal, eh? Interesting phrasing.”

“Are you saying I’m prejudiced, Core?”

“Tell me something, man. Are cores outlawed anywhere in Xynnar? Is there any special writ that says you should threaten to put me in a dungeon? Which, by the way, is ridiculous, and you’ll understand why if you think about it.”

The guard stared at me for a while, before dismissing us with a wave. “Go on then, core. Bugger off and enter the town, by all means. But don’t expect smiles and hellos.”

“Thank you. One last thing; your town will have a charter of laws that everyone is entitled to see, even visitors, yes?”

The guard scratched the corner of his eye. “That’s right.”

“Do you mind if I have a look?”

“Bloody hell. It’s around here somewhere, are you really going to make me search for it?”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“Fine,” he sighed.

After the guard had procured the town’s legal charter and I had found what I needed, Gulliver and I crossed the gate threshold and headed into town. “What was all that about?” he said.

“Cores don’t have the best of reputations. If people don’t understand us, they fear us. The people who do understand us have the sense to fear us even more. I didn’t expect a better welcome.”

“At least we’re here.”

Hogsfeate was built on a steep slope, with the fancier houses sitting at the top of it and the quality of dwellings getting worse the further down you went. Their plumbing system consisted of trenches that ran down the sloping road and then were diverted out of town. Here in Hogsfeate, crap quite literally flowed downhill.

On the level ground was the town center, a giant plaza filled with shops and taverns and cafes and smithies. After spending much of my second life in the Dungeon Core Academy and then a dungeon, I wasn’t used to the kind of crowd that I saw milling before me. I watched people stumbling out of taverns, patrons haggling with fishmongers, potion brewers, and herbs sellers, couples strolling arm in arm and stopping at market vendor’s stalls. I didn’t like the smells of bread and beer and dirt, and I liked even less the sounds of laughing, chatting, and singing. It made me miss the solitude of my dungeon. The best I could do was to mute most of my core senses so that the smells and sounds of the town were dulled.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said. “Where’s this mage?”

Gulliver was looking in the direction of a tavern across the plaza, which had a sign hanging outside that read ‘The Lazy Urchin.’

“No, Gull,” I said. “We’re here to see Mage Hardere and ask him to track Cael and his portal. I still need to get back and fix this business with Reginal and Galatee.”

“Surely we can have a little drink, Beno? Come on! Two drinks wouldn’t take us long at all. I mean, don’t be such a stick in the mud. Having three measly drinks? That wouldn’t add too much onto our trip.”

“The mage, that’s our task. Being in this crowd makes me remember why I love slaughtering people so much. Now, where would a mage be?”

“Probably tucked away from the central merchant’s district. Mages don’t like people. You two should get along perfectly. Let’s try over there…”

“You!” shouted a voice.

It took me a second to locate its owner, which was a man strutting across the plaza. He looked battle-worn in his old, scratched leather armor. His hair had receded so far over his scalp it was as though it was trying to run away from him, and half his face was covered by stubble. Around his right eye was a runescript tattoo. I had no idea what it said, but most runescript tattoos meant nothing like what their owners had intended.

“Can I help you?” I said.

“You’re a core?” he asked me.

“Gulliver, you never told me Hogsfeate was home to so many geniuses.”

The old man pressed his palm on his sword hilt, which swung from a sheath on his waist. “By order of the heroes’ guild,” he said. “You are trespassing in our town.”

“The laws of trespass don’t apply to a public space.”

“They do to you, you grubby gem,” he said.

“Ah. You speak for the whole heroes’ guild, do you?”

He puffed his chest proudly. “I do. My name is Pvat, and I represent the Hogsfeate chapter.”

“A chapter that should have been removed on your first edit,” I said, and stared at Gulliver. When he didn’t respond, I said, “That was a writing joke, Gull. You’re a scribe.”

“Scribe or not, a bad joke’s a bad joke. Sorry, Beno.”

“Fine. What’s the heroes guild got to do with me visiting the plaza?”

“You’re not allowed, not wanted, and not welcome, in that order,” said Pvat.

“There’s not a single law in the land that prevents me from visiting a town just as anyone else would.”

“No? Let’s see about that. Guards!”

Gulliver leaned close to me. “Let’s just leave the plaza, Beno. We’re wasting time that could have been spent in a tavern.”

“No, I want the hero to have his fun.