Once we entered the Dungeon, we found ourselves on a beach in the middle of nowhere, the air salty and wet under twinkling stars.
Not too far away in front of us, ships of every size were bobbing in the dark water. They all seemed lit up as if in celebration.
Penguin chirped excitedly, almost jumping out of my pocket.
"Hey!" I said, catching him. "No running ahead! We're all going."
Penguin chirped twice and tapped my finger with his beak, affectionate but clearly impatient.
Llewellyn put his sword away. I hadn't even noticed him taking it out.
"Alright," he said. "Let's see what this is all about."
We followed the water's edge.
As we moved closer, I noticed that the ships were all connected by gangplanks and rope bridges, with lanterns strung from every surface. Ships aside, the setup reminded me vaguely of Huayuan District's yearly Lantern Festival.
Lively music floated from them—something that, to my ears, sounded a lot like an Irish gig.
When we reached the wooden dock, which creaked worryingly under our weight, we spotted… a familiar figure with a gray-streaked muzzle.
"Ahoy, ye lot!" he called out happily. "Welcome to Gilded Bay! Hope ye brought yer sea legs!"
"Alberan," Llewellyn said, sounding resigned. "Let me guess. You're our guide to all things nautical and notorious? Piratical and perilous? Floating and felonious? Seafaring and scurrilous?"
I snorted. "Maybe you should get his job."
Llewellyn gave me a look.
Alberan, who looked like he was greatly enjoying himself in a tricorn hat, eyepatch over one eye, and what looked like a pirate's coat full of shiny brass buttons, said, "Aye! Right ye are!" with great enthusiasm.
"Though these days, we're more about the grog than the pillaging," he added after a moment with an embarrassed cough. Penguin chirped in support from my pocket, looking very excited by the sight of a talking dog.
Alberan went on. "The Bay's got the best rum this side of nowhere, card games that'll clean out your pockets, and stories with more holes than a leaky skull! Oh, and mind yer footing, unless ye fancy a swim. We've lost a few good boots to the booze."
From somewhere deeper into the floating town, a fiddle struck up an even livelier tune. Voices joined in—some distinctly drunk.
Alberan rummaged in a leather pouch at his belt and produced two items. They looked like small glass beads, each containing a swirl of what looked like sea foam that moved like it was still part of the ocean.
"These mark you as crew!" he explained. "Can't have landlubbers wandering about. They're as sacred as a Pirate Oath—keep 'em safe. They'll get you through the locked bits."
The bead was cool against my palm. Penguin looked at it and chirped questioningly.
"Does he need one?" I asked, as I put the bead into my pocket.
"The bonded creature?" Alberan said, eyeing Penguin with clear respect. "No bead needed. He's blood."
Penguin chirped proudly.
"Off with ye!," Alberan said. "And if ye fancy a bit o' pillagin', for old times' sake, there's a sign-up sheet."
"…"
What, like… a spreadsheet? For pillaging?
"We're not signing up," Llewellyn said.
Alberan shrugged. "Suit yerselves! Less competition fer the rest of us."
He tipped his hat with a small flourish and wandered back humming a sea shanty.
I glanced at Llewellyn. "Pirates."
"Reformed pirates, apparently," he said dryly.
The System chimed.
-
[System Notification: Dungeon configuration diverges from original design. Environment altered by external influence.
Intended theme: Pirate Ship.
Current manifestation: Floating tavern-town made from moored pirate ships.
Hostile encounters minimized. Reward parameters unchanged.]
-
Huh. Well, damn.
"I think we just found out what tent guy was doing. Did he like… mod it?"
Honestly, I was impressed.
Llewellyn frowned. "He's not going to appreciate us hijacking his custom Dungeon."
Right. He was going to wake up finding himself locked out.
But I was more curious about something else. In the Core Partition, I was told not even the System could know what the environment of a Dungeon was, unless someone first went in and became aware of it. So how did this guy know what to mod?
And more importantly—
"Do you think he can make trouble for us from the outside?" I asked, frowning. "If he wakes up before we destroy the Knot."
Llewellyn considered this.
"System?" he asked.
[System Notification: Dungeon instance has been sealed and shielded upon entrance. External interference was anomalous and is no longer functionally feasible. Only the System may transfer users in or out.]
I hummed.
"Right," I said, "but why didn't you assign anyone and let him get on with this?"
[Clarification: Assignment was delayed due to interference from an unidentified magical anomaly. Initial anomaly was not detected and did not trigger a response. A retroactive flag has now been applied. Irregularities of this type will prompt immediate review in the future.]
Llewellyn and I both frowned.
Well, not much we could do now.
"Let's find the Kiosk," Llewellyn said after a moment.
We got on the gangplank and stepped onto the first ship.
A parrot squawked from the rigging. "YER FLY'S UNDONE!—SQUAWK—YE'D LOOK GOOD FLAT ON THE DECK!"
What!
I started coughing. I hadn't seen that coming.
"IN CHAINS! IN CHAINS!—SQUAWK—DOWN HE GOES, SEE IF HE BOUNCES!"
"STRADDLE 'IM! RIDE 'IM LIKE A WAVE!"
"…"
Llewellyn and I both looked ahead, pointedly not looking at each other.
We walked around from ship to ship, taking in the environment.
A tavern here, a shop there, even what looked like a floating inn with hammocks strung between masts.
Lanterns swayed with the gentle rocking of the waves while the music kept floating lively.
Unfortunately, the rowdy parrots were everywhere.
"TEAR 'IS SHIRT! GRIND LIKE YER CHARTIN' A COURSE!"
"BITE HIS NECK! HOIST THE SAILS, HE'S COMIN'!"
I was speechless. Llewellyn's ears were red.
"STUFF 'IM FULL O' RUM—SQUAWK—SEE IF HE SPILLS!"
I really thought my life had reached its peak ridiculous with those posts. It looked like I was wrong.
"There," Llewellyn said finally, pointing to a larger ship ahead, where a bright sign proclaimed "QUEST KIOSK" in letters made from what looked like repurposed ship parts.
An old woman with tanned skin and an impressive collection of gold teeth grinned at us from behind the counter. "New crew, eh? Looking to prove your worth?"
Above her head, a painted sign read: "Earn Your Stamps to Claim the Map to Captain Blackwater's Buried Treasure!"
She slapped two booklets on the counter. "Three challenges, three stamps. Complete 'em all, and the map's yours."
I picked up the booklet:
Cannonball Bowling — Strike true and topple the lot!
Tying the knot — Master three regulation knots.
Hands on deck — Hunt down the hidden token before your mate does!
"Cannonball Bowling," I read aloud.
Llewellyn flipped through his booklet. "The System's sense of humor remains unmatched."
The woman leaned over the counter. "Ah, two of ye, is it? Makes sense now, what with the parrots." She winked. "Some o' them challenges get... cooperative, if ye catch me drift."
Llewellyn blinked.
Penguin chirped a question from my pocket.
"Ah, the wee beastie's got sense!" She tossed a tiny pirate hat at me, clearly for Penguin, who followed its trajectory with round eyes. "For the lad. No self-respecting scallywag goes on a ship without proper headgear! He'll need it, once ye two start stormin' each other's breechers like they hold gold!"
Llewellyn looked at the hat, then at the woman. "We're not about to storm anything."
"Course not," the woman said. Then she slapped the counter, cackling.
We both stared.
The System chimed.
-
[System Notification:
Kiosk-keeper NPC dialogue exceeds standard parameters.
Parrots NPC dialogue exceeds standard parameters.
External narrative influence detected.]
-
"Let me guess—someone's been feeding them better lines?"
"Reformed pirates," Llewellyn muttered. "With a theater degree."
"That's what you're going with?!"
We just met, like… parrots with a porn subscription!
I put the hat on Penguin, who chirped twice, looking delighted.
Ah, he looked great! Ready to sail the seas and all.
The woman grinned wider. "Off with ye! Can start from the Drunken Slime, two ships over. And if ye see Alberan, tell 'im he owes me eight silvers from the last dice game. Cheatin' bastard."
Alberan being a "cheatin' bastard" is what set me off laughing.
I was still laughing when we reached the Drunken Slime.