“Ah, Garth, what to do with you?” Argus said, toying with the tiny symbol of the Inner Spheres on the desk in front of him.

“Do you have any idea what that little stunt cost me, in influence, in prestige, in honor? My father still plays the memory of it every decade at the Festhall.” He jabbed his finger into the desk. “Every. Decade.”

“Nothing worse than that has happened to you in eight hundred years?” Garth asked, genuinely confused. If life had taught him anything, it was that an infinite life must by necessity contain infinite suffering. Maybe Argus wasn’t experiencing his fair share, but eight hundred years was plenty of time for something bad to happen to him.

“Do not speak out of turn, or I will have the bailiff reprimand you.” Argus said. Garth raised an eyebrow, but sat back in his chair and let the angry elf blow off some steam.

“I spent so many nights, thinking how you’d done me wrong. And as much as I hated you, the adversity made me strong. I learned how to get along.”

Garth desperately tried to keep a straight face, his stomach cramping from where he was muscling down the giggles.

“And now you’re back with that sad look on your face, and you expect me to forgive most of a millennia of humiliation?”

“Bahahahahaha!” Garth burst out laughing, unable to keep it in any longer. It was like the man had fallen asleep to Aretha Franklin and could only speak in quotes.

“Bailiff.”

The Bailiff pulled out a little remote and pressed a button, and Garth felt pain for the first time in years, emanating from the prisoner badge. It was a dull, aching throb, that leaned into a sharp pain that seared through his entire body. It reminded him of when a dentist managed to hurt you even through their damn numbing shots.

The spell must be causing the pain directly, because I literally can’t normally feel that much pain.

“ow, haha, ow, OW, shit!” Garth thrashed in the chair a bit, his mind struggling for a way out of the situation.

Oh wait, why don’t I just ----------

I freaking hate you, prisoner badge.

The bailiff took his finger off the button, and Garth sat there, panting. Ow, damn that hurt. But I will survive.

“hehehehe.” Garth started giggling again, until the pain came back. “ow, ow, fuck!”

“Something funny?” Argus said. “Speak.”

“You were quoting an ancient Earth song, not word for word, but close.”

“Ah. Nice to know you’re more predictable than you seem.”

“Huh?” Garth asked.

“He said if I handed him a good excuse to use the pain inducer on you, he’d be more likely to agree to our terms, so I asked a few Earth immortals for advice.” Chi’tet whispered with an antennae dip.

“Chi’tet,” Garth whispered back, faux betrayed. “I thought you were one of the good guys?”

She shrugged him off.

“Garth Daniels, for your crimes against the inner spheres and me personally, I sentence you to eight hours of community service in Terrafell.” He said, clacking the gavel and giving Garth a sardonic grin. “After which time your crimes will be erased.”

The spectators broke into chattering, so loud that Garth was afraid he’d have to raise his voice for Chi’tet to hear him.

“Eight hours of community service?” Garth asked. “How much did you pay him, anyway, ‘cuz that seems light.”

Chit’tet though, she did not seem pleased. Her antennae were quaking with anger and indignation.

“Terrafell is a megadungeon. Eight hours of community service is a joke way of saying execution. They bring you into the depths, and leave you there, with no way of returning. The reason it’s a problem is that according to the letter of our contract, you are only serving eight hours of time, which falls well under our two week minimum for full transfer of ownership of Castavelle’s summer home on Quinteruis.”

“Huh,” Garth said sitting back. They had, through awkward legal maneuvering, had Garth positively I.D.ed as Castavelle’s apprentice, and managed to lay a claim on some of the old man’s abandoned property, of which there were many.

They were hotly contested because a few of them contained some of the old man’s spellbooks, or artifacts he’d made, which made them valuable grab bags for the super-rich.

Chi’tet had spotted the barely used law that allowed elves to sentence their attackers, and they used one of the priceless islands chock full of magical secrets as an incentive for Argus to give Garth a lenient sentence.

I guess his lawyer found a loophole too.

On the plus side, my crimes are all wiped out at the end of those eight hours, dead or not.

“I wish you luck in your next life,” Argus said, smiling as he left.

“Okay, what’s the rub?” Garth asked. “What’s so bad about this one?”

“Terrafell is a one-way dungeon. It created a Law within that prevents things from coming out. After it consumed several adamantium ranked teams, it should have popped the planet it was on hundreds of years ago, but it seems like it was a dud, or perhaps one of the teams sent to kill it disabled it somehow. It’s grown to a massive size, welling up on the side of the planet like a blemish.”

“Huh,” Garth tapped his fingers against his elbow. “Can my soul leave? Will I go to the afterlife?”

“it’s unknown. No one has been inhumane enough to test it on someone. at least not publicly.”

Okay, so dying and trying to escape to my phylactery is plan B.

“Well, the joke’s on him,” Garth said, putting his hands behind his neck. “ We got most of what we wanted today, and the book told me the place we gave him is a deathtrap.”

“Do you want the book back?” Chi’tet asked.

“Yeah, if anything knows offhand how to escape an inescapable dungeon, it’ll be that.” Garth said, nodding. “You just get started on phase two while I’m gone.”

Now that M.T. G.D. 90753 was logged as evidence and verified by a truthseer, it was irrefutable evidence that the Dan Ui Clan had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It had only been a flash of motion and a freeze frame, before it was wiped off the hologram, but that one freezeframe was damning…hopefully.

While he was gone, Chi’tet would switch clients to someone who had a better claim to Earth than Garth, and launch a campaign to have the Dan Ui’s ownership rendered invalid.

Once that was done, they would only have to pay the Inner spheres the flat 30% of their takes in dungeons, rather than paying Dan Ui 95%. This would massively deflate the price of rare minerals.

It would cause a bit of stress on the poor adventurers while the pricing stabilized, but eventually the materials would kick-start industry as the materials found their way into previously unexplored niches. That would take, maybe…twenty to fifty years?

He needed someone who would definitely still be around by then to keep an eye on it, and the Earth as a whole.

Earth needed a new clan. One administered by an Earth native who was impartial to the petty squabbles of her politics, one that could stand against the tide of prospectors looking to steal it once the Dan Ui were removed.

It needed the Fuk Mi Clan.

Well, she’s probably not going to call it that. Garth thought, chuckling to himself.

“Here’s the book.” Chi’tet said, pulling a tiny leather bound notebook the size of a thumb out of her briefcase and passing it to him. The book expanded in his hand, turning into a respectably sized notebook.

“Danka.”

****

“What’s the sitch?” Garth asked, opening the book.

You’re fucked. The good news is if you die, your soul will most likely return to the Phylactery.

“What’s the bad news?” Garth asked.

The bad news is that is that is the 68th time you have asked me that question.

Garth looked up, and saw that he was no longer sitting in the court. Matter of fact he had no idea where he was. He was in a large circular, stone room, with a ceiling that oppressively low over their heads. Against the walls, skeletons of every shape and size where arranged in various states of misery, curled up against the wall, holding their heads, in the fetal position, or simply sprawled out.

Holy crap, I’m already in the dungeon! Memory loss!

“I need you to…” Garth trailed off as he forgot exactly what he was thinking about, idly closing the book in front of him. Garth stared at his surroundings, idly wondering where he was and what was going on, but never able to sustain a train of thought long enough to worry about it.

The feel of the weight in his hand attracted his attention down to the book, and the details of his surroundings rapidly faded from his mind. Oh, right, Chi’tet just gave me the book back.

“So, what’s the sitch?” he asked.

You’re fucked. The good news is if you die, your soul will most likely return to the Phylactery.

“What’s the bad news?”

The bad news is that is that is the 69th time you have asked me that question.

Hah, sixty-nine… Garth thought, with a chuckle. Garth frowned, staring at the number rather than looking up.

69th? Am I experiencing memory loss?

Duh.

“Memento me.” He said immediately.

Really, the number 69 is what does it? If the book had a voice, Garth was sure it would be dripping with sarcasm.

“Bite me.” Garth muttered, glancing up, eyes widening at the oppressive atmosphere around him. “I’m already in the dungeon!” Garth forgot about the book in his hand, gawking at the surroundings. A moment later, the tenous thread of thought that kept him aware of his location was cut, and he simply stared impassively at the walls.

Something heavy in my hand, Garth thought, glancing down.

Oh right, Chi’tet just gave me the book. Garth thought, opening it.

Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.

The single line kept rolling down the page for a couple seconds before shifting.

That’s weird. Garth thought, frowning.

Walk forward. Keep looking at me. Walk forward. Keep looking at me. Walk forward. Keep looking at me. Walk forward. Keep looking at me. Walk forward. Keep looking at me.

Okay, obviously something weird is going on, Garth thought, resisting the urge to look away from the book. When the book said duck it was usually a good idea to duck. This was probably no different.

Garth walked forward a couple steps and felt a strange tug around his midsection. He glanced down and saw a rope wrapped around his waist. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted Alicia attached to the rope, staring at the rope tugging on her in confusion.

How the fuck did she get there? Garth thought.

“Hey, how did you get there?” Garth asked, and Alicia shrugged. They should be in the courtroom, and as a matter of fact, where the hell were they?

Garth glanced forward again, rapidly losing his sense of urgency.

Something heavy in my hand, Garth thought, glancing down.

Oh right, Chi’tet just gave me the book. Garth thought, opening it.

ignore all distractions, Look at me, walk forward, numbnuts.

The text flashed on and off in front of his eyes, and Garth shrugged, beginning to walk forward.

When did I stand, anyway? I was just sitting in the courtroom.

Garth felt something tug around his waist, and he read the text. The text said to ignore it, so he kept going.

Progress was a bit halting, even with the text constantly reminding him what to do. Every once in awhile he heard Alicia speaking behind him, then he forgot what was said, then who said it, then he forgot he heard anything at all. For a moment it was alarming, but then he forgot he’d forgotten.

Ignore distractions, look at the book, walk forward.

After an indeterminate amount of time walking forward, Garth noticed the shape of the room around him changing in his peripherals, The chamber around him approaching a tunnel.

He stepped across the threshold and memories came flooding back.

***

“This doesn’t seem like the best decision you ever made,” Garth said, his anger running cold through his veins as he glanced at Alicia who was being similarly prodded toward the gaping void of the dungeon entrance, also restrained.

“No? she’s your apprentice and lover, is she not? She might have some small claim on Castavelle’s inheritance when you are declared dead, and that doesn’t sit well with me, so I had her sign a Terrafell delver’s contract, and here she is.” He said, motioning to Alicia’s broken fingers. In just the couple hours they’d spent taking him to the planet, he’d done a number on her.

“Much less responsive to pain than I expected so I had to..” he wobbled his finger at his head. “Get a little creative. It should wear off in a couple days if it heals at all, but it shouldn’t make a big difference if she’s been lobotomized. Not like you kept her around for her wits.”

“Suit yourself,” Garth said with a shrug. “But when we get out, I’m not stopping her from gutting you.”

“Well said.” Argus gave him a grin moments before the void of the entrance swallowed them up.

“You doing alright?” Garth asked, glancing over at the pale girl with the full crimson lips.

“Did you know,” Alicia said, her eyes instantly focusing on Garth with a hint of mischief. “That if we kill this dungeon, I have the rights to everything within and a substantial bounty?”

“I did not know that. Glad to see you’re not lobotomized.”

“I was in too much pain to be lobotomized.”

“Umm…is that good?”

“it’s good. Heal my fingers.” She held up her mangled hands.

They tried going back out, but the exit had simply ceased to exist, so their only choice had been to move forward after Garth had removed their restraints by channeling Beladia’s aura and snapping the magic cancelling bands.

****

They had eventually decided on using Garth as the trap-detector. As annoying as it was, he was simply more durable than she was. When he stepped into the Forget-me room many hours later, he’d stood in one place for minutes, forgetting what he was doing over and over until Alicia was able to get him out. Then he’d made a rope and tried to forge through the room on pure speed, book in hand as a backup.

And now, nine hours after being tossed into the place, they’d made their way through one of the most insidious rooms of the dungeon.

On the bright side, my criminal record is expunged by now. Thank Beladia for silver linings.