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

hero covered in blood. Would you give a damn about the hero’s personality? Would you overlook facts and say it wasn’t in this particular hero’s nature to kill kobolds?”

“You’re awfully quick to condemn him.”

“Damn it, Beno! Gary is my friend. He read the first draft of my new book and said glowing things about it! It isn’t even my best work! That should show you how nice he is, and how much I think of him. It isn’t like I want him to be guilty. That’s not fair of you to say.”

“I know. I know. I’m not thinking logically, am I?”

“You’re thinking like a human, Beno. Wracked with emotion. You’re a bloody core! Isn’t a cold, hard logic supposed to be one of your redeeming features?”

“I’m not sure of the redeeming part, but you’re right.” I stopped floating in circles. “I’m sorry, Gull. You’re right to think of this logically.”

“Do we know what happened?”

“We can find out.”

“I’ll be right back,” said Gulliver. “Need to go to the little boy’s room. Or little kobold’s room, I suppose you’d call it around here.”

Gulliver left the core chamber. I used my core voice.

“Jopvitz?” I said.

Soon, there was a knock on the door. A kobold entered.

“Jopvitz!” I said. “You’re looking dashing.”

He was wearing a dark tunic topped with a hood that covered most of his face. He’d paid for it using his dungeon wages. Ever since I’d tasked him with using my core visions to spy on people, he’d taken to wearing it. He’d also started talking in a hushed voice. So quiet it was sometimes hard to hear what he was saying.

He carried a ledger almost as big as he was. This was where he wrote down all his observations. “You need me, Dark Lord?”

Checking my core information, I saw that while Jopvitz was improving as a spy, he hadn’t really earned the right to act like he was the greatest snoop in Xynnar. He still had a long way to go.

Jopvitz

Race: Kobold

Class: Spymaster

Level: 3

Skills: 

Eye for Detail [The spymaster can see seemingly inconspicuous details that others may miss.]

“Come in,” I said. “So you’ve been watching core visions all morning, as I asked?”

“Yes, Dark Lord. We know who was in the Scorched Scorpion that night. The innkeeper, obviously. Ditsy, the barmaid. A pot boy. A few other drunks. There was also an old bard, but nobody has been able to find him.”

“Bards usually leave town after a show,” I said. “I don’t think he had anything to do with this unless he sang them to death. Which I admit is possible, depending on how you feel about love ballads. What else do we know?”

The kobold tugged on a string, drawing his hood a little snugger around his face. “I have watched the core visions, Dark Lord, and I…”

His voice trailed off, so hushed it sounded like he was just breathing.

“Cut it out, Jopvitz!” I said. “Stop with the mysterious voice stuff. Being a spy doesn’t mean talking so quiet nobody can hear you!”

“I would ask that you do not use my name, Dark Lord.”

“I’m sorry?”

“If I am to be effective in my role, I must assume a new name. A new identity.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“You have asked me to be spymaster, Dark Lord. I do not plan on doing it half-heartedly.”

“Fine. What’s your spy name?”

“Anvil.”

“I’m not calling you that. Now, get on with it. What have you learned?”

Just then, Gulliver entered the core chamber again. He saw Jopvitz and spread his arms out wide and gave a beaming smile.

“Anvil!” he said. “How’s it going, buddy? Been busy spying?”

Just like with the rest of my kobolds, Jopvitz was incredibly happy to see Gulliver. “Very busy, Gulliver.”

“Come on then, Anvil,” said Gulliver, smiling in his ridiculously good-natured way. I sometimes envied the way he had with people. “What did you learn?”

Jopvitz opened his spy ledger. “I have observed the private conversations of the people who were in the Scorched Scorpion last night. They say Gary lost his temper. Smashed his harp against the wall, stole a barrel of beer, and left.”

“That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“You said he was blind drunk,” said Gulliver. “This fits. A full bloody barrel of beer! Wow. The beer in the Scorpion is strong enough as it is. Two pints is enough to get me singing.”

“Why would Gary lose his temper? He’s the most amiable person I ever met,” I said.

“Everyone has their string. If someone finds it and gives it a pull…” said Gull, imitating pulling a piece of string.

“What made him get so mad? Jopvitz?”

“I didn’t hear anything about that, Dark Lord. People were too busy discussing the murder itself, and not the events before it.”

“And most of them think he did it?”

“Everyone seems to.”

“Great. Right now, Riston is probably meeting with Galatee. Whispering in her ear. By the end of the day, I’ll be so far at the bottom of the polls that I’ll have to start kissing babies and promising to give every townsperson 5000 gold coins if I’m to have any chance of being chief.”

“Is that really what worries you?” asked Gulliver.

“Well, I don’t really like babies. They’re annoying.”

“Not that. Are you only bothered about this bloody election?”

“Of course not. I’m worried about Gary. But it doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned about myself, too. This chief vote affects the whole dungeon.”

“Whether we believe Gary or not,” said Gulliver, “It doesn’t change what the masses think. When an idea gets ingrained in so many people, it gets stronger. It’s like chainmail, and every person who believes it is another link being added. Reinforcing it.”

“There’s something they haven’t realized yet,” I did. “While I was in the bakery, I