FaeLina remained passed out on a Pillow Fiend for a solid five minutes. She looked surprisingly peaceful.
I considered my options for waking her. I couldn’t physically shake her, and projecting a calming thought seemed counterproductive. I needed to appeal to her core nature.
FaeLina, I projected, focusing the thought with surgical precision. There is a pile of disorganized, improperly filed paperwork on the Tea Nook counter.
Her eyes snapped open instantly. "WHERE?!" she shrieked, zipping into the air. She saw there was no paperwork and turned her panicked gaze to me. "Don’t do that! And more importantly, did you see the notice?! An official inspection! From the Dungeon League Rankings Board! The DLRB!"
"They’re going to come with clipboards, Mochi!" she continued, her voice rising with each word. "Clipboards and measuring tapes and ’Danger Assessment Forms’ in triplicate! They’re going to take one look at our Pillow Fiends and classify us as a petting zoo!"
We just have to prepare, I replied calmly.
"Exactly!" she said, a frantic energy about her. "We need to make this place look more... dungeon-like! I saw an ’Aesthetic Cobweb Kit’ in the store for 5 DP. We can hang some fake skulls! Maybe create a spooky, echoing moan? Just a little one!"
No skulls, I said firmly. My brand was cozy, and I was committed to it. The inspector would see my dungeon for what it was.
"But they’ll fail us!" FaeLina cried. "What’s our lethality rating? Negative five?! Our primary monster is a huggable knight doll! Our designated boss room is a nap alcove!"
She was right, of course. A standard inspection would be a disaster. So, I decided not to prepare for a standard inspection. I would double down. I would prepare for a guest.
My first purchase was an upgrade for my loyal slime waiter.
[Upgrade ’Sloosh’ to ’Level 2: Slime Concierge’? Cost: 40 DP.]
With a happy little gurgle, Sloosh sprouted a jaunty bowler hat made of translucent slime and learned a new ability: offering guests warm, lavender-scented towels.
Next, I manifested a large, leather-bound book on the Tea Nook counter.
[Purchase Item: ’Enchanted Guestbook’? Visitor comments are converted into ’Review Points’. Cost: 25 DP.]
Finally, I issued silent instructions to my staff. Sir Crumplebuns was to act as the official greeter. The Pillow Fiends were to be on their best, most invitingly fluffy behavior.
FaeLina watched all of this with a look of dawning horror. "Your plan is to defeat the DLRB bureaucrat with... hospitality?"
Before she could protest further, a bright, golden alert chimed through the dungeon.
[Official DLRB Inspector has arrived.]
The figure who entered was not a grim, heavily-armored warrior. It was a gnome, small and stooped, with spectacles perched precariously on the end of his long nose. He was buried under a comically large satchel overflowing with scrolls and parchments. He looked more exhausted than Zazu the elf ever had.
He shuffled to the center of the room and sighed, a weary, soul-deep sound.
"Alright, let’s get this over with," he muttered to himself, pulling out a clipboard that was nearly as big as he was. "Dungeon number 42, ’The Comfy Corner.’ Inspection for non-standard classification..." Original content can be found at novel•fire.net
Before he could continue, Sir Crumplebuns marched up to him and struck a gallant pose.
"GREETINGS, HONORED EMISSARY!" the plush knight boomed. "WELCOME TO OUR HUMBLE SANCTUARY! ALLOW ME TO BE YOUR GUIDE ON THIS GRAND TOUR!"
The gnome inspector, whose name tag read ’Barnaby,’ froze. He slowly looked up from his clipboard at the talking doll. His pen hovered, motionless.
At that moment, Sloosh the Slime Concierge wobbled over, holding out a perfectly warm, lavender-scented towel on a slimy platter.
Barnaby stared at the towel. He stared at the plush knight. He stared at Daisy the Druid, who was still asleep in the corner, her livestreaming crystal faintly glowing. He stared at his "Danger Assessment" form.
FaeLina, peeking out from behind my core, looked like she was about to faint again.
The gnome inspector pinched the bridge of his long nose, his eyes squeezed shut.
"By the seven layers of bureaucratic hell," he whispered, his voice cracking with exhaustion. "What fresh new nightmare of paperwork is this?"