The Book of Dungeons - A weak to strong litRPG epic

I wasn’t fond of luring players to Hawkhurst, so I didn’t favor Education’s library or Negotiation’s market. Construction complemented our goals, but it offered nothing advantageous in terms of the contest. This narrowed the field to Fortification and Expansion as my preferences.

When I reread the first mandate, Aggression, I warmed up to its battle college. While the rest of Aggression had little relevance to the wilderness, the battle college seemed like a rare, high-level building. Getting one meant Charitybelle could remain the city’s manager while keeping her martial skills competitive. Fabulosa would benefit, too. Its top training rank of 30 doubled my skills, and judging by how slow ranks progressed in the teens, reaching 30 could be a game-changer. The battle college wasn’t the most exciting pick, but it offered essential leverage against other contestants.

I reread the descriptions of the other powers. While fantastic, I couldn’t live with myself if Charitybelle got knocked out of the contest because her combat skills languished in low ranks. She came up with the idea to settle here, so it seemed only fair that she benefitted the most. And frankly, her battle acumen improved my survivability, so it wasn’t a wholly selfless preference. This argument seemed the best to make, but the ultimate decision rested in her hands.

Closing my interface, the world around me blossomed with sounds and movement. Through the rustling of the grass, I heard conversations in the distance. As the effects of alcohol wore off, I indulged in a peaceful afternoon interlude of listening to the dwarves erecting a roundhouse.

I rested until my conscience got the better of me, sat up, and looked for ways to help or, at least, look busy. After checking the work assignments, I noticed Ally hadn’t created or delegated new jobs. It puzzled me for a second, but then I realized I’d only created the position a few seconds ago in real time.

I spotted Charitybelle and Greenie behind a stack of wood. They repurposed it as a windshield and hunched over blueprints.

I walked over to them. “You guys ought to check out your mandate options. We ought to make some decisions before setting our build order.”

Only a moment passed before Charitybelle’s face brightened. In that split second, I knew she’d read through the list of mandates. “Oh! These powers look fun. Which one do you think we should pick?” She looked at both Greenie and me.

Greenie looked puzzled. “I wasn’t aware settlements offered such powers. I prefer the library, of course, but for the town’s security, the defensive mandate, Fortification, might be prudent.”

After giving them a run-down of my opinions, I ended with my preference for Aggression. “To me, everyone raising their combat skills seems the best defense against players, monsters, and NPCs.”

When I mentioned the contest, Greenie squinted in incomprehension but said nothing. NPCs were aware of combat mechanics or game systems, but they didn’t understand the difference between players and AI-driven entities. As an officer, Greenie had access to the user interface, but it seemed like something he took for granted—as natural as gravity.

Charitybelle crossed her arms. “I agree that drawing players with the market and library means trouble. And we can already offer a lower tax rate than Arlington’s river route, so the duty-free market is redundant. A cross-continent trade route won’t attract other players….” She trailed off, not knowing if Greenie understood how she, Fabulosa, and I were visitors to this world. Charitybelle explained the concept of players to the goblin. “Fab, Patch, and I are playing a last-person-standing competition. It’s a given our 30 citizens will stick together in a fight, but contestants are dangerous and unpredictable. And all of them are power-hungry—including us, so we should avoid offering magic or knowledge. It would be like ringing the dinner bell.”

Greenie nodded to show he followed her. “Perhaps augmenting our production, or as Apache suggested, our defensive prowess.”

Charitybelle placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to choose the battle college just because it’s good for me.”

I addressed her concern. “It’s great for me. Plus, a battle college helps everyone, especially in the long run. Fab can train, too—her skill ranks are closer to yours, although she’s probably better in combat than either of us. I wouldn’t mind ranking up my skills. Imagine players rolling into our town only to discover that everyone here is a rank 30 combat-monkey. They won’t know what hit ‘em!”

Charitybelle made monkey sounds, embarrassing Greenie and causing fits of giggles between us. After we recovered, she added an important detail I had overlooked. “And double damage could apply if we ever had to fight inside another city.”

Other cities around the continent counted as settlements. The bonus worked as a siege mechanic, but the wording suggested I inflicted double damage if a cutthroat attacked me in an alleyway in another town, effectively reducing enemy player health pools by half.

“Does this mean our governor promises to train while managing settlement affairs?”

Charitybelle nodded and smiled. “I would love that free outpost. Right between here and Basilborough, but you’re right—Aggression makes the most sense.”

I received an alert signifying that Hawkhurst had spent its first settlement power point on Aggression.

When I checked the city interface, the tier 1 mandates disappeared. We’d invalidated the other choices by choosing Aggression, which meant a new list of options would populate the tier 2 box. I suspected the game made mandates mutually exclusive by tier—otherwise, larger settlements would share all the same overpowered perks.

The interface limited citizenship to one settlement, preventing players from exploiting the system.

Charitybelle pulled out of her inventory a new weapon. “Check it out, Patch!”

Item

Metamorphic Siege Hammer

Rarity

Rare (yellow)

Description

Level 20 bludgeoning weapon

+2 stamina

+8 strength

Delivers lethal and structural damage (counts as siege weapon).

Charitybelle held it aloft. It caused 6 more points of damage than my Black River Cudgel because of the strength bonus, and it delivered structural damage—which might help us in dungeons.

A mass of milky quartz formed the hammer’s head, affixed to the shaft with serpentine weaves of metal bands—a gorgeous weapon.

“It suits you, sweetie.”

My girlfriend’s smile remained while she stashed it back in her inventory.

Charitybelle and Greenie returned to editing blueprints, accommodating Rory’s requests for the smithy—their return to work became a cue for me to vamoose.

With Fabulosa and Yula heading north, I scouted westward, exploring the meadow’s gently rolling hills. If I placed the buildings around Hawkhurst, familiarizing myself with the countryside made sense. I kept the dwarves within my line of sight in case anything happened at camp. Keeping my distance avoided distracting the work crew or being in their way.

I walked with my minimap open. My radar’s dots and seismic information disappeared when my location changed from Hawkhurst to the Bluepeak Mountains.

Hawkhurst’s radar extended two miles from our flagpole. If I needed to be within the settlement borders to see everyone’s whereabouts, then it might be vital to know our settlement’s boundaries. Like the goblin’s cairn, I gathered and stacked stones to mark our settlement’s western boundary.

As I searched the shoreline for stones, I detected a red dot on my opened minimap. It appeared in the forest, two miles away, bearing seismic indications of a large biped. The blip moved in a leisurely, irregular path, so I watched to see if it went away on its own. Standing in the tall grass, I scrutinized the western tree line to see what emerged.

When it came close to the clearing, I took cover. I didn’t see movement, but the dot appeared beyond the tree line along the shore. I wondered how the map worked. Would everyone in the camp see the radar blip or only officers?

I scanned the western tree line again, and I made out the silhouette of a bipedal dinosaur walking along the meadow’s edge. At a distance, its size became difficult to judge next to gigantic trees, but I focused on its nameplate from a half-mile away.

Name

Juvenile Gargasaurus

Level

8

Difficulty

Easy (green)

Health

190/190

It loped at an unhurried pace, periodically stopping and sniffing to check its surroundings. I stood downwind, so it didn’t detect me, but I crouched anyway. Mommasaurus wasn’t nearby, but I didn’t want to waste time tracking down a green enemy. The creature meandered back into the forest without further incident.

Perhaps it avoided the open terrain because of the ward worm.

While searching for stone, I scouted for features or points of interest. Evidence of the ward worm’s passage was hard to miss. Tunnels breached the surface, only to collapse into muddy trenches. If free-range dinosaurs avoided the ward worm’s territory, it suited me.

I finished stacking stones. Even though it stood barely over the waving green grass, a visible marker seemed a worthwhile exercise for the afternoon.

Charitybelle broke the news about the battle college around the dinner campfire. “Hey, everyone. I hope everyone had a good day.” Her smile echoed her enthusiasm. “Patchy discovered an additional bonus for our camp. We’re getting a battle college free with a town hall, and it will be available to all Hawkhurst citizens.”

A few people clapped and hooted, showing mild interest. Some dwarves acted more enthusiastic than others, and I made mental notes of who looked most eager to train.

“I also received this.” Charitybelle held up her Metamorphic Siege Hammer to the appreciable awe of the camp. A few dwarves approached to admire the weapon’s ornate filigree.

Ally scratched her chin. “I cannae say I’m complaining, but it’s queer to have such bonny fortune. When Brodie erected our town hall in the mountains, we received no such windfall. How does this luster seem to fall on Hawkhurst, do ye wager?”

Greenie turned to me when he answered. “I hazard to say this comes from the red core the lieutenant governor installed during Hawkhurst’s foundation. It stands to reason if cores improve arms and armor, they augment settlement mandates.”

Ally shrugged. “‘Tis a grand thing to hear. Our town hall only unlocked blueprints for new civic buildings. Using a green core gave us a bonny fountain out of the bargain.”

This bit of news surprised me. “You mean not every settlement gets these powers?”

Greenie and Ally shook their heads.

The rarity of these bonuses came as a surprise. For opponents to find comparable powers, they needed to join a settlement that started with a red core. The history books in Belden cited no such foundation.

Joining a settlement put players at odds with the game. If cities required bonded promises, it meant players couldn’t rob other citizens or work against the ruling class. What player would ever agree to that? And if settlements listed citizens, it made sense to avoid inclusion in the town’s roster. Otherwise, contestants could query city officers of nearby players.

But none of the disadvantages weighed us down in the wilderness. Starting a city increased our standing in the contest.

And it hadn’t escaped my attention that we needed only 17 more citizens to grow the town’s level and receive another new mandate. The more citizens we attracted, the more powerful Hawkhurst could make us.