“I’m pretty sure that’s not true for chrononauts,” said Alfric.
“Well, either way,” said Verity. “They have a magical ability to go back in time. Isn’t that where the term ‘mage’ comes from? From magical ability?”
“Not sure if it does,” said Hannah. “Seems circular to me.”
“I’ve always found chrononauts a bit creepy,” said Mizuki. On seeing that no one was taking more stew, she had put the rest of it into a bowl, which was then put in the chiller. The pot was then promptly put into the sink, where she started washing it. “Can you imagine someone knowing your future? Or remembering a conversation that you had no knowledge of?”
“They’ve saved cities from disasters countless times,” said Alfric.
“Probably no one would be allowed in the dungeons if the chrononauts weren’t there to prevent the worst of the worst from comin’ out,” said Hannah.
“Aren’t they limited to, like, a day?” asked Mizuki as she washed the pot. “Wouldn’t that prevent them from getting here if something went seriously wrong?”
“Nah, they have travel entads,” said Hannah. “And besides, part of the role of the province censusmaster is to make sure, at the end of the day, that the population hasn’t dropped by a thousand. It’s an early-warnin’ system. Then, if they need to, they call in the chronos, and they’ll call in some of the heavy hitters, the Pyros or the Knives.”
“Blegh,” said Verity.
“Blegh?” asked Mizuki.
“I just wish that when these kinds of things happened, we had something better,” said Verity. “The two main solutions are to burn something to death or to stab it to death. It seems so primitive, and not in a good way.”
“That’s a real oversimplification of what the Pyros and the Knives actually do,” said Alfric.
“Well, if you’re going to talk Inter politics, I’m out,” said Mizuki, holding up a hand. She’d finished with the dishes, including all the spoons and bowls.
“It’s not politics, it’s high-level civics,” said Alfric. “It’s stuff you should know, in case the worst happens. That goes double if you’re a dungeoneer.”
“I know it, I just don’t like talking about it,” said Mizuki. This wasn’t quite true, and she hoped that no one would actually test her on her knowledge. She knew things, in the sense that she had a general idea. If someone told her about the structure of Interim, she was sure everything would sound very familiar. But it also didn’t seem very important, and it was trending in the direction of those kinds of conversations that people got heated about.
“But the worst doesn’t happen, does it?” asked Hannah. “When was the last time the Pyros or the Knives had to be deployed, ay?”
“Three years ago,” said Alfric. He seemed to have the answer at the ready. “Now, granted, that wasn’t a full burn, but they were deployed to contain some kind of rapidly spreading vine.”
“When people talk about deployment, they’re talkin’ about miles of forest turned to ash or a desert made into glass,” said Hannah with a sigh. “They don’t mean the Pyros comin’ in and dealin’ with somethin’ that at most destroys a farm.”
“It was two farms,” said Alfric.
“Wait,” said Mizuki. “Two farms got destroyed three years ago and that’s the worst the Pyros have done?”
“Historically, no,” said Alfric. “But you have to go back a hundred years to find anything substantially worse.”
“Lesser things, though?” asked Verity. “Slow escapes?”
“The fractalwoods are maybe seventy years old,” said Mizuki. “So, relatively recent.”
“But they’re not a risk,” said Alfric. “And I thought you weren’t going to stomach politics?”
“Well,” said Mizuki. “I’m just saying. Things do escape, and the Pyros don’t see fit to burn it all, do they?” She was betraying her ignorance, she knew, and she kind of hated it.
“It’s about impact,” said Hannah. “Half the creatures in the woods are ‘escapes’, deliberate or otherwise, and half of the plants too.”
“Because some of the things that ‘escape’ are tomatoes,” said Alfric. “There are all kinds of fruits and vegetables that have come from the dungeons and, beyond that, all kinds of new and better varieties of fruits we already eat. Inter wants that. They want mounts and pack animals. And while breedable animals are incredibly rare, there are a few notable examples of those too, things that can actually propagate.”
“Those being?” asked Mizuki. Here, at least, it seemed like the conversation had moved on from Inter politics, which she was grateful for.
“Cats and chickens, for one,” said Alfric.
“Bull,” said Mizuki, folding her arms. “I can accept that tomatoes originated in dungeons, but you can’t possibly be saying that fat ol’ Tabbins was, at some point, a dungeon monster.” She picked up Tabbins, who was on the floor, to make her point, and didn’t set him down until she’d made sure that everyone had looked at him.
“Not a monster, maybe,” said Alfric. “Occasionally a dungeon will have something that doesn’t show any interest in attacking you. Dungeon madness isn’t universal.”
“And you think cats are an example of that?” asked Mizuki, turning Tabbins around to peer into his eyes. “He’s not even magical.”
“A lot of monsters aren’t magical,” said Alfric. “Most of them, in fact. You can imagine a cat as a henling, right?”
“Crazy,” said Mizuki. She’d stooped down to pet Tabbins. “I could buy it though, I suppose.”
“There’s actually a theory that everythin’ originally came from a dungeon,” said Hannah. “That humans are from dungeons, released by those who came before, or having come up from the dungeons without needin’ to be opened.”
“Nah,” said Mizuki. “It would’ve had to have happened an incredibly long time ago. Humans have been around for ages. Sounds like feili propaganda to me.”
“Well,” said Hannah. “The feil are long-lived, so if it happened ages ago, maybe they would know.”
“I wonder if Isra knows about feils,” said Mizuki. “How long has she been on her own?”
“Five years,” said Alfric. “She knows a lot, but there are considerable gaps. On top of that, her parents were from Tarbin, so I expect that some of the gaps are cultural, rather than things she just never learned. And being a druid too… from what I gathered, her father was at least somewhat educated, but whatever he was able to transfer to her between woodland lessons stopped at the age of thirteen.” He tapped his foot. “Hmm. I think she needs our help, frankly, or at least someone’s help.”
“Well, we’ll go find that druid,” said Verity. “And hopefully we won’t all die in our second dungeon. I’m going to get some practice in, alone, please. I’ll be outside.” She slipped out of the kitchen and headed upstairs to grab her lute.
“I need to go spend some money,” said Mizuki, hefting her sack. “Hannah? Were you going to come? I could always use the company.”
“Of course,” Hannah said. “I was goin’ to speak with the blacksmith about a commission, now that we’ve got some rings. Alfric is right that it makes the most sense for us to let the dungeons equip us, but I’d still like a helmet and a breastplate, just to prevent the worst of the injuries that would keep me from healin’ us.”
“Alfric?” asked Mizuki. “Are you going or staying?”
“I don’t think I’ll stay in your house alone,” said Alfric. “I need to wash the dust and sweat of the road off me and talk to some people in town about next steps.”