Peek: The Birds

Earl Paulte Heindarl Bulifinor Magnamtir if'Gofnar smiles as he idly looks out the window from the Guildmaster's quarters. After his talk with the Voice, his new guild's delving has gone much smoother. Jondar still complains about the rival guild having better luck with their delves, but Paulte isn't concerned. Their rivals simply have more practice with the dungeon, that's all. It will only take time to catch up and surpass them.

The dungeon is still clearly curious about the new adventurers, but at least it's not being as creepy about it now. Perhaps soon, its guard will lower enough that they can finally start giving their rivals some accidents while delving. Jondar says they should be cautious about it, and though the Earl doesn't like it, the elf makes a fair point. A young dungeon is very impressionable. If it learns adventurers are worth a lot of mana, it may become a lot less friendly.

He doesn't think it will matter, especially not after he can blame his son's death on the dungeon. If the other guild insists on still delving, it'll be the perfect opportunity to eliminate some of them and add fuel to the public fire.

But that can come later. For now, he enjoys sipping a strong drink and watching the commoners from the window as they go about their simple lives, fish too dim to understand the difference between a trade ship and a fishing vessel as the shadow passes above them.

He really must remember to ask Jondar where he got this whisky. He's had better, but not by much. It's perfect for sipping and giving him that nice fuzzy feeling without dulling his wits too far, and complex enough that he can savor the taste even as he savors the burn.

He lifts the glass to enjoy another sip, idly observing the shadow of a cloud sweep across the view. The day had been clear until now, but rare is the port that sees no clouds in a day. It's not until he sees several commoners pointing upward that he suspects something could be amiss.

Then the sound starts, and he understands the shadow isn't from a cloud, but from countless birds! Seagulls, crows, and ravens stream through the sky, their cries creating a low din that drives away the pleasant effects of the alcohol. He cracks the window open to see where they're going, and it looks to be some place just outside of town. Frowning, he turns and leaves the room, looking for Jondar, and finds him in the common room, nursing his own glass of whisky.

"Jondar, what's going on? What's with all the birds?"

The stout elf sighs and motions for the Earl to have a seat, but he doesn't intend to share a bar with the adventurer. After it becomes clear the Earl isn't going to sit, Jondar explains. "Apparently, the dungeon likes to make a racket when the local inspector comes in for an inspection. We haven't heard it because the one on duty right now is the apprentice, with the master having been out of town on business. He's expected to return soon, so it looks like the dungeon is preparing to welcome him."

"With that many birds?" presses the Earl, incredulous. Jondar can only shrug.

"It seems so. That's a lot of mana to spend to move that many around, especially with Hullbreak helping out with his own birds."

Paulte frowns at that, trying to remember the estimated costs for moving around dungeon minions. He can't recall, but if they're anything like moving around people... that's a lot of effort to go through. He opens his mouth to demand answers, but is stunned as the din suddenly shifts to a full cacophony! He can hardly hear himself think with that racket! Even Jondar winces and glances out the nearest window, though he can't see too much of it from here. Unease grows as the racket continues, and Paulte has to try to guess at just how many birds are being used to give some backwater inspector a grand welcome.

The noise eventually settles, and with the echoing quiet comes a sense of dread for the Earl. He has severely underestimated the power the dungeon has. If it can blow that many resources on a boisterous hello, what would it do if it were actually motivated? If Miller were to give it the proper motivation?

He had classified it as a moderately-powerful idiot, the kind to be easily lead. But it seems to have a lot more strength than he realized. If Miller catches wind of their plot... would he be able to escape? Just fleeing from Miller sounds terrifying, but with a lapdog dungeon nipping at his heels, too?

He needs to talk to Toja, and make sure their plan is still sound. She's a local, she should know more about the dungeon. She concocted the scheme in the first place, she probably knew about its power, right?

He scowls as he heads back to the Guildmaster's Quarters, where he downs the rest of his glass before looking for some brandy. The whisky is too good to simply down the bottle, but the brandy is simple enough and strong enough to calm his nerves, and keep them calm until tonight. He just hopes Toja isn't doing the same thing he is right now. Then he'd really be worried.