Chương 63

-0-0-0-0-0- Cliffside Village, The Sixth Floor, The Dungeon -0-0-0-0-0- Bahumet wandered the village in a thoughtful mood. Every so often, his gaze drifted towards the Scorched Plains below, watching the party of guilders slink away. As promised, they'd brought the requested items and traded them for a weight of the villager's wool. Bahumet knew what they'd use the wool for. It was obvious. They'd use it to fashion more heat-resistant armor and cloaks so they could stay on the Sixth longer.

Whether to use themselves or sell to others, the wool would go on to aid their enemies. Bahumet found himself contemplating what the point of trading with them even was. Yes, they'd gained some interesting commodities and curiosities in return for something they had in abundance. They could trade their new acquisitions at the Drake-Kin's market for items more valuable to them. Furs for bedding, weapons, tools, and more. But they traded for those things anyway.

Bahumet couldn't understand why and since The Creator extolled the virtue of asking questions and seeking greater understanding... He asked.

"Creator, why did you have us trade with the invaders?" Bahumet asked their god. It was less than a second before he could feel a portion of The Creator's attention focus on him. I am attempting to... train them. They know some of you are intelligent and can speak and reason. Engaging them in trade will reinforce a feeling of empathy and understanding. They won't WANT to kill you. It is another layer of protection.

"I think I understand, Creator. But why not do this with the Kobolds on the Third?" Bahumet asked, curious. It was too soon. On encountering the Kobolds, the guilders firmly believed them smart but ultimately unintelligent animals. Their encounters with Mushu and his repeated use of their language primed them to believe that the Kobolds might be as smart as them. Their first encounter with you Capriccios was you defending an obvious village, and they became more empathetic.

They could relate to you defending your home. By trading, they have approached you as equals for mutual benefit. Bahumet supposed he could believe that. There was one thing, though...

"Capriccios?" Bahumet asked, confused. Ah. Yes. It is the new name for your people. I couldn't keep calling you 'Demon Goats,' now could I?

"What does it mean?" It's a word from a language known as Italian and means Whimsical. It is also a reference to a collection of stars that abstractly resemble a goat, known as the constellation Capricorn. And now, it means the race of bipedal, sapient goat people that live on the Sixth Floor of the Medea Island Dungeon. Bahumet could feel The Creator's attention wane as he left until it reached the background awareness all monsters within the dungeon felt.

Then, he realized he'd stopped walking and had been standing still in the middle of the mildly-busy walkway. Bahumet moved out of the way of others and sat down upon a stone bench facing away from the cliffside. He looked over the Sixth and contemplated the information he'd been given. The Invaders considered the people. It must be true, in Bahumet's opinion. They could have attempted to climb up to the village and slaughter the guards, then shave their skins and take the wool from their corpses.

Instead, they traded relatively little for a valuable resource. With no bloodshed, the risk to the guilders was next to nothing. Apart from fighting their way down here, that is. That was a given. If they believed the Capriccios to be as intelligent as them, it opened the door for them to consider other species in the dungeon people. Bahumet blinked rapidly as the consequences of such a belief made themselves apparent to him. The Drake-Kin, the Scorpan, and Minotaurs. They could trade with the guilders as well.

And with the Minotaur and Scorpan villages more open and obvious, it would act as another layer of protection. The humans would hesitate to slaughter a village of people they knew were just as smart as themselves. Bahumet blinked again, let out a small bleat of laughter, and shook his head. He'd been using the name The Creator had given their race without thinking about it. Capriccios. It did have a pleasant ring to it. He looked out across the floor once more, looking for the guilders.

When he found no sign of them, Bahumet stood. He took a minute to stretch, feeling the satisfying clicks of his bones. With a purposeful stride, he moved over to the building they'd designated a warehouse. They should have judged the worth of the traded items by now. Bahumet intended to be part of the caravan to the Seventh that would take their new things to market. He had a few ideas to make their village seem more 'civilized' to the humans.

-0-0-0-0-0- The Dungeon, Medea Island, Kalenic Sea -0-0-0-0-0- Wave and I spent three days summoning and directing sprites across the floor. First, I added more sprites to the deep-sea trench portal. More than four times the size it once was, it let through a prodigious amount of water every second. With another two portals of comparable size connected to different trenches, my trench was filling up at a decent clip.

For the rest of the ocean, I started by 'roughening' the sea floor a bit by varying its depth and adding texture. I left large hills all over that I intended to raise into proper islands later. I also altered the runes slightly as I created a more North Atlantic-style sea near the entrance, transitioning to a more Caribbean sea at the far end of the floor. That allowed for a wide range of islands with different climates and environments.

As such, I had the sprites open seven portals to the northern seas and seven portals to the 'tropics,' with each portal being about the same in diameter as the trench portals. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. I watched the water level rise, quite satisfied. Unlike before, the water was visibly rising with every passing minute. It had already risen four yards in the last few days, a marked improvement over the previous week.

While I waited for the water level to rise, I pulled one of the hills I'd made up into a veritable mountain. That's what many islands are, of course. Mountains that just so happen to be mostly covered by water. This would be the closest island to the entrance area, only four miles offshore. Four miles isn't an insurmountable distance, and easily reachable by swimming. To dissuade that, I'll add plenty of fish that will target guilders attempting to swim across but avoid boats.

My reasoning for that distinction was simple. Unless they somehow get a shipwright down here, they'll be building the ships themselves. I expected little more than rafts lashed together with rope, to begin with. Eventually, they could work up to larger vessels, but I didn't expect much. At least, not until they had plenty of experience or focused instruction. Either way, the island itself. I admit I took inspiration from a game back on Earth, where you float upon the waves on a tiny raft.

The island was a square mile in footprint, with large cliffs on all sides and three small beaches. I took my time crafting realistic cliffs, referencing the ones on the island above through a seagull's eyes. I created little plateaus under the future water line for reefs to grow, with plenty of space for kelp, seaweed, and other underwater plants. Regarding the island itself, after the standard creating-of-arable-dirt, I spread plenty of pine, along with something I could only assume was birch.

It looked similar enough. I made sure to populate it with plenty of smaller bushes and grasses. I ensured there were plenty of insects of various types to occupy the lowest rung of the food chain, making doubly sure there were dozens of beehives across the island. With that done, I began thinking of the next rung. Small omnivorous mammals and birds were the ones that most predated on insects, but I didn't have many of either one. Thankfully, I had some templates.

I took a couple of unaltered rats, shrunk them down, and modified them in looks, shape, and temperament to match what I recalled of the average field mouse. I took some parrots from the surface and did something similar, but I split them into three distinct species this time. Specifically, I made pairs of Robins, Finches, and hawk-like birds. I don't know what species lived on islands in an Atlantic climate, but these would. I brought down a colony of Seagulls, as well. Next was a larger land mammal.

Easily solved by adding some foxes. I had plenty of Ice Foxes, so I took six and had them brought over to the island. The first order of business was reverting them to their old orange coloration and taking away the ice magic. It wouldn't serve them well here. Looking at the foxes, I had a flash of inspiration. There was an animal in South America called the Maned Wolf that I was in prime position to recreate. First, I took two foxes and stretched them out.

Maned Wolves was famous for it's foxlike face, wolf-like posture, and deer-like legs. Thus, I made a fox the size of a small pony. It had long legs that resembled the deer, only with paws instead of hooves. It had a proportional head, a lean body, and just for fun I gave them three tails. With the environment shaping up quite well, I turned to resources. The Guilders needed a reason to come to the island. Yes, it would work as a stepping stone for a test run. But if they made it over here, I wanted to...

reward them. It wasn't something I'd done since the first floor, but by the time they reached this island, they'd need something. Obviously, trees were an easily accessible, renewable resource. To that end, I made the pine wood tougher, harder, and more rigid. On the other hand, I made the birch more pliable and elastic while retaining its toughness. The Guilders would happily hunt and harvest the animals for their fur, meat, and body parts, so little needed to be done there. No. I needed something else. Hmm.

I'd have to think carefully about that. -0-0-0-0-0- Port Medea, Medea Island, Kalenic Sea -0-0-0-0-0- Haythem walked into the tailors behind Isid and Paetor, keenly aware of the three expanded pouches full of wool on their belts.

"Ah, Mrs. Losat. It's nice to see you again." The older man behind the counter stated, sincerity obvious in his tone. He had a refined look about him. His shoulder-length grey hair was shot through with silver, and a well-kept goatee and mustache showed the care he took in his appearance. His clothes were well-fitted; an orange-brown waistcoat over a white shirt, with dark brown slacks.

"What can I do for you and your friends today?"

"Mr. Pamfor, I am here about that project I mentioned the other day," Isid replied, placing her expanded pouch on the bench. Haythem and Paetor followed her lead, putting their pouches next to hers. The tailor, Mr. Pamfor, opened Isid's and glanced inside, and Isid continued.

"You should recall that I asked after having some heat-resistant fabric integrated into existing armor and woven into cloaks." The tailor nodded absently as he inspected some of the blood-red wool. Haythem recalled when he'd first touched the stuff. It wasn't exceptionally soft or fluffy, as he had expected. It was rough, tough, and durable. The reason they'd been so interested in procuring some from the bipedal goats was because of its more esoteric property.

Their own testing in the guild confirmed it was fire-resistant and incredibly thermally insulating. Wool was already naturally fire-resistant. Some property of the stuff just refused to catch alight from mundane fire. Instead, it smoldered and smoked. A fire produced from mana, however, could overcome that nature. This red wool, however, was a step above the properties of regular wool. It took a platinum-level flame spell to cause it to burst into a fiery conflagration.

Beyond its flame resistance, it was perfectly insulating in a thick enough layer. A person hiding behind a sheet of the stuff could have a fire spell burning on the other side and be completely unaffected.

"Ah, yes." Mr. Pamfor stated, breaking Haythem from his thoughts.

"I do indeed recall that particular conversation. This is wool. The fibers are tougher than normal and natural besides. This color... It is not dyed... Monster wool?" The tailor theorized.

"Which floor is it from?" Isid looked impressed, and Haythem was too. This man knew his fabric.

"It is," she confirmed.

"It's from a species of goat-like creatures on the Sixth. I'm not sure if you know, but it is as if the floor's designer had done their level best to bring the Fourth Hell into reality. Open lava pools, free-roaming fire elementals, and a dry heat that we can only be in for any length of time thanks to enchanted cloaks." The tailor nodded and listened carefully as he continued inspecting the wool.

"This Bloody Wool is insulating and more fire-retardant than normal wool. We can modify the cloaks to be more defensive if we use this in our armor. Taking out the cooling enchantments would make room for reinforcement, or some kind of active defense." Isid finished confidently. Seeing she was done, Mr. Pamfor placed the wool next to the pouches, looked each of them in the eye, and smiled in that kindly, sincere way only the elderly can.

"This." Mr. Pamfor began, "This is why I moved to Medea Island." Haythem glanced sideways to meet Paetor's eyes. His fellow guilder looked just as confused as he was.

"I'm a master of my craft," the tailor said. Haythem was sure it wasn't a brag. He said it as if stating a fact, and Haythem believed him.

"My works might not be seen in the royal court, but I've customers among most of the east coast nobility. While it has brought me much success, I never felt... fulfilled. The clothes I made varied little in style, merely versions of the same theme. Silk, Cotton, Wool. When I heard of the effort to colonize a newly discovered Island, I jumped at the chance." He took a breath and looked around the shop for a few seconds.

"I left my son and daughter to run the business on the mainland. They'd learned all I could teach them, and I knew they'd do just fine. This is my retirement, in a way." He seemed amused at the thought, chuffing slightly.

"Instead of tirelessly making clothes for a ravenous nobility, I can choose when and for how long I work. I can choose what orders to take since I have no desire to run myself ragged.

"This is why I moved to Medea island," he repeated, holding up the wool.

"New materials to work with! With new materials come new designs, made to fill new needs." The tailor had been getting more energetic as his speech continued, but now his eyes practically shined with enthusiasm.

"I'm glad you're eager," Isid remarked, which prompted the man to collect himself.

"I've already talked of the changes I'd like made to my party's equipment, but Paetor and Haythem have their own ideas." Haythem felt the tailor's gaze keenly as he turned his head to face them. It took a few hours to hash out how they'd integrate the wool into their armor, but Haythem felt confident when it was over. All they needed now was to visit the enchanter and that smith Haythem had met a while ago. They'd go into the next dive more than prepared for anything the dungeon could throw at them.

-0-0-0-0-0- © Max Porteous, 2022