Dungeon? This Tree? Why Don't You Join Me for Lunch? (Dungeon Core)
Chapter 13: The dark page

Chapter 13: Chapter 13: The dark page

I separated the egg whites from the yolk, as Grannie Almira took in a deep breath. She stood, her shadow that of a giant. The villagers were staring at her so, as if they were expecting to get their future told to them.

The dream catcher activated, ready to chase away bad memories and absorb their mana.

"That was the year without summer," she began, as she closed her eyes. Did she imagine that year so, as if she was still living in it? Did she imagine the snow, the ice?

The hunger?

"Our granaries were full. Our barns were a thing of plenty. Lambs rested near calves! There was enough hay to go around. The children played in the snow from sunrise to sundown," I blinked.

The story did not sound so scary.

Maybe I was going to collect enough mana from it after all? I smiled, taking the pancake mix. Ready to sprinkle it in the egg yolks.

Already having placed the egg whites under a cold rune. Knowing that if I wanted soufflé pancakes, the whites had to rest for ten minutes.

"Then, the goblins came!"

My fingers twitched. Oh...

"They stole the lambs and calves! They stole the grain! They stole young women for their torture! Young boys to put to work in their mines!"

I bit my bottom lip, as I noticed how the eyes of some of the older villagers were glazing over. An old granny began to shake.

I took a blanket out of my bottomless bag, handing it to Anne.

"Go sit by that granny, ok? Make sure she is warm," I knew that it wouldn’t help repair the damage, but Anne was a cherub. The blanket was fluffy.

I hated myself for not being able to do more.

"The king did not come to save us, no," Almira began, no mercy in her heart for those who had somehow survived. "He sent his vultures to tax us!"

I shuddered. The dream catcher was doing its best, but not even it could replace such memories.

Memories deeply rooted into the souls of the survivors. Memories which the young might live through.

"But we had nothing to give them. The children stopped playing in the snow. How could they continue, when their bellies gave out roars from sunrise to sundown?"

I placed the vanilla extract in the egg yolk and flour mix. Feeling small for not paying attention to the humans during that cursed year.

The year when the sun did not show itself. The year I spent inside my old girl’s protective barrier. Warm and content.

"So, they took the men!"

My fingers began to shake. How were women supposed to take care of their children without the men? Women, who did not even have the right to hold a job, let alone decide their future?

The question if the king in question was Solas burned on my tongue.

But to interrupt Almira now would be an insult to her pain.

"The light in the houses went away that day. It was just us, the women the goblins had deemed as too ugly, and the children left behind. We had nothing!"

Her outrage urged me on. Here I was, whisking the egg whites, while...

"But then the gnomes came one day!"

Darn it, if I make the whites too hard, the pancakes were going to get runny. I had to concentrate.

These were my humans!

The goblins were going to die screaming!

I shook my head.

I was not like that! I was Sylvan, the nymph of the Bristlecone Pine Tree. Eternity was mine to live through without blood under my nails!

No matter what!

"They brought food. Asked us for stories. Brought calming herbs for the little ones, so they could sleep, instead of crying. The gnomes saved us! Hired adventurers and got back at the goblins!"

There was my happy ending. The thing which the dream catcher needed to protect them from the storm. The storm which was yet to begin.

Almira looked me straight in the eyes. I did not dare lower my gaze.

"And now you ask for a story so, as if it is an easy thing to give!" I was not sure if her voice sounded like thunder, or if the storm had finally begun. "As if taking our memories won’t bring them back! With the pain that comes with them!"

I stayed quiet. Feeling small.

"Grannie! Uncle Sylvan just wants to feed us breakfast!" Anne came to my defense. I glanced her way. The old woman next to her was wrapped in my fluffy white blanket.

Tears running down her cheeks.

"He is a dungeon mob!" Almira roared, as she pointed a finger at me. "And this tree is a dungeon! He was stealing our mana, to make himself stronger!"

"Tell the truth," Marinus said, his voice cracking. "Tell them the truth, or you will lose them."

For once, I did not feel like calling him Grumpy Pants.

"Yes," I said, as I began to whisk in the sugar in the egg whites, spoonful by spoonful. "But I did not lie about the storm. The hail will kill you, if you go out now!"

I hoped that these humans were going to forgive me for the lie. That they will forgive me for making them relive such a dark page of their history.

"And when you begin creating goblins," Almira’s eyes were blazing. Some of the villagers began to look around, expecting that the vile creatures were going to jump from dark corners. "What will become of us? Your dungeon is just two hours away from our village!"

They had no faith in me.

How could they? I was not even on the peaceful dungeon list.

But how could I sign myself on it? When the king would just send organ harvesters my way. Maybe my old girl was going to survive. She was in the tree.

But I? I would be doomed.

"I ask for your trust," I murmured, for I did not have the strength to raise my voice.

Almira snorted.

But she did not leave. I had my chance. And as the first ice cube fell from the heavens, I knew that I had to prove myself!

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