The Book of Dungeons - A weak to strong litRPG epic

After closing my interface, I’d forgotten what Charitybelle had asked me, which always involved a risk when using game menus during a conversation. Having lost the flow of thought, I tried a blanket statement. “I’m getting a handle on what the camp needs to improve.”

Charitybelle relaxed. “So we don’t have to worry about morale?”

“Oh! Um, yeah, we do. I mean, it really depends on what we build. We need to get shelter. Our health coefficient is killing morale, but the dwarves are getting healthier every day.”

Charitybelle smiled, telling me my summation concurred with her independent conclusion. Even addled by alcohol, I had the job under control.

Rory, our chief blacksmith, moved next to Charitybelle. He waited for her attention, looking progressively more impatient as we talked about the settlement’s ratings.

Charitybelle held a finger to stave off Rory’s advance and continued our conversation. “You’re setting the build order, which includes telling me what plans Greenie and I need to draft next. The crew can make buildings from generic blueprints, but they’ll take longer to construct and cost more resources. We don’t have resources like mortar and metalworking, so Greenie, Ally, and I have to make custom plans for practically everything.”

I nodded. “But isn’t it redundant to have two people working on the same problem?”

“That’s a fair question. My dad assigns two engineers to a task—a trick to keep his department under budget. One won’t work as hard, as fast, or with as much creative innovation as a pair. Greenie and I have egos, especially when it comes to solving problems. And we’ll strive to be the alpha nerds, keeping each other honest. Time is a factor, so this seems the best way to provide Ally’s crew with validated blueprints.”

“So you need me to organize the camp?”

“Not everything. Fab and Yula run patrols. Greenie and Rocky are tracking our food. Greenie will let you know when we’re running low on something. So far, the worm meat is a big hit, but it’s lean, and Ally says the workers need more variety and meals that give energy.”

I gestured to the orc. “Yula mentioned some cow-sized boars and wolves in the forest to the north. She called them ‘tuskers,’ but I forget what she called the wolves.”

Charitybelle answered. “Fatty meat is good, too, but workers need carbs. Tomorrow, Yula and Fab are foraging mushrooms, roots, and moss for soup.”

I nodded.

Charitybelle nodded. “Next, check out the labor page in the economy tab.”

I grunted in agreement.

Rory impatiently shifted his weight and exhaled through his nose.

Greenie interjected. “Civic decision-making can wait until tomorrow, but I cannot make projections of our production and provisions until I know how we plan to run the economy.”

It became my turn to exhale audibly. Economic decisions had the familiar ring of homework assignments.

Charitybelle turned to Greenie. “We can discuss it tomorrow night, maybe after dinner. To keep ahead of the construction crew, we should use daylight to rework blueprints.”

Greenie nodded, and I shrugged. Tomorrow night worked for me—what schedule conflicts could I possibly have out here?

Running a town felt like a unique way to play this game, and I liked the idea of leaving the beaten path. I didn’t particularly enjoy economics in school, but I’d do my best to help the settlement.

Greenie’s mention of economics touched on a nerve I couldn’t articulate. Settlement management made me yearn for adventure. Perhaps Fabulosa’s itch for going feral had become contagious, or our run-in with three players in Belden made me more aware of the survival contest.

Weeks ago, in the security of Belden University, level 4 contented me. In the wilderness, I’d climbed to level 16, two higher than Fabulosa. Charitybelle reached only level 9, but our encounter with the karst caradon and troglodyte proved the unpredictability of enemy behavior. Monsters might attack anyone in our group. Charitybelle’s low health made her vulnerable, so she needed to level up. While I wanted to build up a camp, my girlfriend had to buff her stamina and get more health. We’d abandoned quests a long time ago, so the only way left to play involved fighting monsters—ostensibly the reason we’d come out here.

The untamed inner continent promised exotic challenges, unlike the Arlington River, where we searched for days to find a wandering monster. Out here, they hunted us, and one encounter could easily bleed into another.

Discussions about the smithy shook me out of my reverie. Rory had finally made a move on Charitybelle and asked for changes in its design.

Charitybelle retrieved blueprints from her inventory and listened to Rory’s concerns. Building a smithy seemed a simple matter with a forge already in place—he only lacked walls and a roof. Unlike most dwarves, Rory preferred a dirt floor to blocks of stone. Modifying the blueprints to reflect this saved many stone blocks for another building.

Greenie and Charitybelle bent over the plans without a complaint. Drinking too much ale and watching them discuss the pros and cons of the minutiae made my head ache. I wasn’t a creative person, so having someone else stress over the details suited me.

Fabulosa pointed toward the western forest. “I’m going to see if we can find any more of that weird steel wool.” She and Yula looked ready to leave after respectfully waiting for the foundation party to wind down.

The thought of Fabulosa and Yula, an NPC, investigating those mysterious metal patches made me yearn for exploration. Unfortunately, Charitybelle and the camp needed me here.

I caught Fabulosa’s attention before she left. “We gotta drag C-Belle out on scouting trips. She’s too low-level for the wilderness.”

Fabulosa glanced over at Charitybelle and shrugged. “Good luck with that. Y’all better not stray too far from camp while we’re gone. You and C-Belle are the only security.”

We hugged goodbye. I turned to Yula and searched for signs of wanting an embrace.

Instead, the orc thumped me hard on the sternum. Her neutral expression showed no evidence of an intended insult.

This orc ritual of a farewell left me nonplussed, and I cautiously raised my fist to return the gesture. Yula nodded, and I did so, taking very careful aim.

Without further acknowledgment, Yula turned.

Fabulosa grinned at the awkward moment. “You and C-Belle keep your ears up while we’re gone, partner. We’ll be back soon.”

As I watched her follow the orc to the forest, I resolved to make Yula smile. I didn’t know how, but I would breach that cultural barrier.

After they left, I found a quiet place to study the settlement interface. I settled into the lush meadow foliage.

The afternoon wind combed through the grass with a perpetual hiss, making the plain undulate in green waves. The mountains above the tree line radiated a teal hue, enough to live up to their name, the Bluepeaks. Viewing things from a distance relaxed me more than the claustrophobic forest, where ambush predators threatened to pounce without warning.

But visibility worked both ways. These rolling pastoral acres teemed with life, wilder than Belden’s countryside. Hawkhurst offered monsters a buffet of dwarf-sized servings. Yula mentioned goblins’ shortsightedness so we wouldn’t have to worry about dousing fires at night. And clearing the goblin mine stopped patrols from entering our territory.

I gazed at the sky. Laros, the largest moon and symbol of light magic, remained the only moon in ascension.

Lying down amplified the rustling of the meadow’s grass, and it seemed a comfortable way to sober up. The grass shielded me from the lake breeze, making it warmer than standing. Winter had withered some flora into drab browns, but most vegetation still thrived. As the swishing grass and crunching leaves drowned out other sounds, I closed my eyes and checked my menus.

The settlement interface designated Hawkhurst as a subsistence economy. Concentrating on the status opened an economics window that offered choices typical of city management games. The interface locked out most screen elements until Hawkhurst produced a 30-day resource surplus. We weren’t about to create an abundance of anything soon, so I ignored the options.

The economics page gave control over our labor force by listing the camp’s various jobs. Charitybelle already put me into a city planner slot, and she and Greenie filled architect slots. The screen color-coded these officer tasks in blue. Fabulosa and Yula filled red scouting slots. Twenty-seven dwarves and Ally, their construction manager, occupied orange work slots whose assignments bore construction-related titles. The page showed no responsibility for cooking dinner.

Only camp officers had permission to create and assign new task slots. Between Charitybelle, Greenie, Ally, and me, it made sense that Ally and I would share the responsibility. The interface allowed for multiple ways to edit work assignments. I could alert the entire settlement about a new task, bring it to an individual’s attention, or outright assign people—leapfrogging the volunteer process.

Instead of being heavy-handed and ordering someone to cook, I created the cooking slot and used the interface to notify Ally. She knew the dwarves better and could assign the best person to the job. She’d probably give it to Rocky.

Another tab listed the names of our citizens and showed their level, work status, and trade skill ranks. Officers could see idle workers, or at least citizens not assigned to jobs. I could flag people as independent to prevent the interface from tracking their work status and trade skills ranks.

I gave Fabulosa this status, allowing her to play her game without Charitybelle or me encroaching on her independence. It preempted arguments, avoided bossing about bossing other players, and seemed a savvy policy.

I closed the economics tab and studied the city stats. Hawkhurst made it to level 1. The game tracked settlement levels through population instead of experience. It amused me that each citizen in the camp counted as a walking experience point toward the next settlement level.

By focusing on the population, the interface showed settlement levels. The game considered settlements below 5 citizens level 0. We leapfrogged over this to level 1. We needed 50 people to reach level 2, 500 to attain level 3, and 5,000 to become level 4.

When I started the game at level 0, I’d leveled after finishing my quest for Mr. Fergus. The game rewarded me with increased character attributes and a power point.

If Hawkhurst already reached level 1, it stood to reason that we would have received a similar bonus?

This settlement interface included a section for mandates. What were mandates? Focusing on the word “mandates” brought up another window.

Available Mandates

Tier 1

Aggression, Construction, Education, Expansion, Fortification, Negotiation

Settlement power points

1

I froze when I saw that the settlement of Hawkhurst had an available power point to spend.