13
Keaton brandished his dagger, for all the good it would do, and put himself in front of the dragonkin.
“If this gets dicey, make a run for it,” he told her. “I’ll be fine.”
“I—”
She wasn’t able to complete the thought. A party of goblins lumbered into the hallway, led by a larger, fatter one that Keaton assumed must be a hobgoblin. It did have a more elongated snout, and its mouth foamed with a putrid stench he could smell from where he was standing. Its dry, scaly skin was slick with it, too. A massive bone mallet was in its hands, the impacting ends made of skulls that had been shaved down — or beaten down — to a smooth surface.
“You make the wrong choice, human,” it said, its raspy voice carrying through the tunnel.
Keaton’s instinct was to create a distraction and then run for it, but it wasn’t just him here. He’d asked the dragonkin to accompany him. He couldn’t put her in harm’s way. He just needed some kind of exit strategy that he could communicate to her, and then—
“You not hurt master! I kill!” came the hiss of his new minion, the goblin leaping in front of him and brandishing its torch, since the club was still with the dragonkin.
“Whoa, okay little buddy, calm down there,” Keaton began.
“A traitor? We gut you and feed you to the mushrooms like the filth you are,” the hobgoblin snarled.
Maybe this was an opening. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he could talk his way out of this.
“He’s not a traitor. Not by choice. He’s now under the command of Dungeon Lord Keaton, a minion of The Labyrinth.”
The hobgoblin’s eyes widened, his gaze snapping to Keaton. He gave him a once-over, though, and laughed. “You? You not dungeon lord. Too scrawny.”
“Mages don’t have to be bulky,” he said, extending the gauntlet-clad hand.
Please let this work, he thought as he concentrated on somehow making that same aura from before.
There was a gasp through the crowd of goblins, and they were all looking at his arm. Because of the gauntlet, or…? Ah. Nope. It’d worked. His whole arm radiated dark energy.
The hobgoblin was still just staring at him, though, his muscular arms tense; ready to swing that mallet for all he was worth.
Keaton needed more to sell this particular grift. Looking back at his companion, he said the first thing that came to mind.
“And it’s not as if I need bulk. You probably don’t even know what you’re looking at right now, do you?”
Her eyes widened, but Keaton turned back to the hobgoblin.
“Pair of outsiders whose bones aren’t even fit to grind,” the large creature said, letting out a bellowing laugh. The other goblins joined in a nervous fit, sounding almost like the cackle of hyenas.
“You fool,” he said with gusto. Maybe too much gusto. “She is the granddaughter of the very Ancient Dragon who roamed these swamps, and she’s come to reclaim her territory.”
He turned to the dragonkin, whose eyes were still wide. She looked from him to the goblins, and Keaton was pretty sure he’d just doomed them both.
“Um… Yes! Yes, I am the granddaughter of Xeiryniss, Lord of the Swamp, and I bring a, um… a terrible curse! Rawr!”
She “sold it” by curling her hands as if they were claws and baring her teeth, her tail thrashing out behind her.
Yep. They were doomed. Time for plan B.
He heard nervous whispers coming from the goblins, though. They’d hunkered together, some of them clutching necklaces that were made of various teeth.
“What if it true?” he heard one “whisper” to the hobgoblin.
“Humans lie,” their leader snarled in return.
But Keaton saw the fear in his beady little eyes, and that was enough. It was a way in. He could sell this for just a little longer, and maybe…
Maybe he could do it his way.
“I came here in search of strong minions. You all know how that works, right?” Several of the goblins nodded. One cowered behind the hobgoblin. “This one was easy to overpower. I’m sure almost all of you would be, too, but I have another idea. A better idea, if you’ll listen. One that can help appease the Ancient Dragon.”
The hobgoblin’s gaze narrowed, thick brow ridge pushing down over his eyes. He looked to the dragonkin, and Keaton silently prayed to every god he could name.
“He is far more generous than I would be, mortal,” she said, in a voice that was level and surprisingly intimidating. “Take what he offers. You will not get a second chance.”
The hobgoblin gave a derisive snort, but Keaton could see he wasn’t willing to meet the dragonkin’s eyes. “I am listening.”
“Come work for me,” he said. “Become a minion of The Labyrinth, by choice. Help me build the dungeon from the ground up, and you’ll be rewarded. Provided food, shelter, and a portion of whatever the dungeon brings in.”
The hobgoblin looked at him suspiciously. “You could do what you did to him,” he nodded to the goblin who still stood between then. “Maybe harder to do it to me, but possible. Why this?”
Yes, why was he doing this? He had the power to have minions who followed him unquestioningly, and he was turning it down in favor of… what? Paid labor?
“Because this…” he looked at the pathetic creature who stood in front of him, willing to harm his family. Willing to die for someone he didn’t even know or care about. “This isn’t how I want to run my dungeon. These aren’t the people I want helping me. Everyone who works in The Labyrinth will do so by choice, or not at all.”
Keaton held his breath as the hobgoblin looked at him, gaze unwavering. He extended his skeletal-clad hand for the creature to shake and arched one brow in question.
After what seemed like an eternity, the hobgoblin reached out and grasped his outstretched hand.
“We work for you then, Lord Keaton. So long as there is food, we stay. Food is gone, we are gone.”
“That’s fair,” Keaton said, letting out a breath of relief.
It worked. His plan actually worked, and he was gaining a lot more minions for his trouble.
…Now he just had to figure out what to feed them.
14
The Labyrinth has gained new minions.
The Labyrinth has acquired the allegiance of:
1 hobgoblin
2 goblin warriors
2 goblin scouts
4 goblin workers
The Labyrinth has reached level 1.
The information was revealed to him as soon as he set foot in the dungeon with his minions. He was almost afraid it wouldn’t work — that Anima wouldn’t recognize minions he hadn’t actually mind controlled — but no. A verbal agreement was apparently enough, which made Keaton feel a lot better about the whole thing.
He walked with a lighter step, the dragonkin at his side. She hadn’t stopped staring at him since they left the cave.
“What?” he finally asked, glancing over at her.
“N-nothing, my lord, I just… I didn’t expect this.” She looked at him with a softness in her eyes that Keaton couldn’t make heads or tails of. “You’re like no dungeon lord I’ve ever met.”
“Oh. Well. Thank you?”
She giggled, pulling that bottom lip between her teeth again. “It’s a compliment, Lord Keaton. I assure you.”
He accepted it as such, then, and brought his new minions to the heart of his burgeoning dungeon. The hobgoblin, Orbon, had a few things to say about all the amenities it lacked, but he barked orders to the others, and they started building beds from the materials the drones had continued to gather once they woke up.
They built so quickly, in fact, that Keaton had a hard time staying ahead of them. He interfaced with the crystal and put in an order for more beds. Once the first two were put into the chamber he’d assigned for them, he was told by Anima that a Small Bedchamber had been created. Raising that to four beds made it a Medium Bedchamber.