“All that is gold does not glitter.”
Panto held out the torch and inspected the dungeon intersection. Both turns went down too far for the light to reach; it was a tossup.
“Left or right?” they muttered to Bridgitte, who followed so close she was practically hugging their backpack.
“Um,” she said, a nervous look on her face. “Is this another test?”
Panto laughed. “No, but it could be a lesson. There’s no obvious answer here, which can only mean one thing.”
“We should turn back?”
“That the best-laid plans of an adventurer are no match for pure luck.”
Bridgitte felt along the wall for any kind of sign. Perhaps the road more traveled would feel more worn-down. Maybe there would be scorch marks or divots or indents that indicated danger. But both sides of the wall were stone, smooth and uniform as the day they were built. She could hear nothing down either path.
“Left, I guess,” she said at last. “Because I’m left-handed.”
Panto shrugged and pressed forward in the chosen direction. The two walked in silence for a while, breath as short and quiet as they could make it. They watched the walls for errant shadows, kept their ears open for the uneven footsteps of a third party. But nothing came.
Eventually the hall ended in a doorway, where a massive wooden door blocked their path, painted purple with yellow stars. Panto walked up and knocked on it a few times, then hummed to themself. “Locked,” they said. “Magically.”
Bridgitte was already pulling out the lockpicks, and she handed one to her mentor dutifully. Panto gave it some thought, then handed it back.
“Why don’t you take care of it?” they said.
Bridgitte swallowed and crept up to the door, trying to recall everything Panto had taught them about this line of work. A real adventurer had to be careful, and savvy, and always expecting the worst. As Panto held the torch over the door to give her light, she knocked on different areas of the door, listening to the hum of magic that resonated throughout. A real adventurer could pick this lock, no problem.
Bridgitte tenderly inserted the lockpick, and her muscle memory took over. She maneuvered the tool deftly with her left hand, while her right hand pressed firmly against the door, magically absorbing any of the stray magic the door spat out. After a few moments, there was a click!, and the deed was done. Bridgitte slowly turned the knob and opened the door a crack, just enough to see what was inside. She gasped.
“Panto,” she whispered. “The coast is clear, I think. But more than that– the coast is full of treasure.”
Panto grinned and used their free hand to push the door open. The sight before the two was unlike anything they’d seen before: a spacious, well-decorated room that felt like it belonged more inside an imperial palace than 100 feet underground. There were desks and shelves full of strange liquids and artifacts and tomes that appeared older than both of them combined. Several wooden chests were pushed against the walls of the room, each one unlocked. Different monster skulls were all mounted on the back wall, each one glaring down on the pair as if personally offended by the intrusion.
“Looks like an old lich hideout,” Panto said with a smirk. “Maybe still a lich hideout. Let’s be quick.”
“If they’re a lich, then they’ll probably have all kinds of valuables here for spellcasting,” Bridgitte said, running her hands over the drawers on the desks. She picked one at random and opened it, then let out a delighted squeal.
“Panto!” she called. “Over here. Gold. Rubies. Diamonds!” She began to stuff as many as she could into her sack. Panto watched her for a while, then returned to their own work examining the tomes.
“Definitely grab those,” they said, “but remember that the most valuable treasures are not often the most obvious.”
“C’mon, Panto,” said Bridgitte with a laugh. “I could buy a brownstone in the city with the contents of this drawer alone.”
“Yes,” Panto said, selecting a tome and spreading it out on a desk, “but you’d still have to pay tax on it, and maintain it, and secure it while you were away in the dungeons. No, sometimes money is more trouble than it’s worth.”
Having finished her ransacking, Bridgitte watched them flip through the pages of the dusty old tome. She couldn’t imagine what they were looking for in there. A reality-warping spell? Panto didn’t know magic. Old knowledge that they could sell for a fortune, perhaps?
“Aha!” Panto cried, and smoothed the page they were on. “Found it!”
Bridgitte leaned over to get a closer look at the page. There she saw, written in the careful, pristine script of the Old Gods, the following: LIFE CHANGING PASTA SALAD.
Recent Comments