The success of Cinder the Cobblestone Drake was undeniable. The small, cinnamon-scented stone dragon had become the official mascot of The Comfy Corner. He spent his days trotting happily through the lobby, allowing tourists to pet his warm, smooth head and occasionally letting out a cheerful puff of sweet-smelling smoke. He was, without a doubt, the best thing I had ever created.
Feeling a surge of creative inspiration, I decided to follow through on the idea from the day before. My loyal residents deserved their own custom-made companions. I would start with Pip. The nervous rogue had been so brave during the dream training, and I wanted to give him something to boost his confidence. I selected the charming, hand-carved toy of a little clockwork knight from Elian's chest. It was the perfect template.
I focused my will, ready to pour my Dungeon Points into this new, heartfelt creation. I accessed the Artisan's Soul ability.
And was immediately blocked by a very large, very official-looking system window. It was glowing a stern, bureaucratic shade of grey.
[ACTION BLOCKED BY FAIRY ADMINISTRATIVE BUREAU REGULATION 742.3B]
[Regulation: The creation of any new, sentient, custom-designed minion type requires the prior submission and approval of Form no 26-C, 'Minion Manifestation and Purpose Declaration'.]
[Please file the appropriate paperwork and try again.]
I stared at the notification, my entire consciousness like come to a halt.
'Paperwork?' I thought and felt my core go cold with a feeling I could only describe as 'bureaucratic horror. 'I have to file paperwork to make a toy come to life?'
FaeLina zipped over to my core, her expression grim. She was holding her official fairy clipboard, which I hadn't seen in a while. "I was already afraid of this," she said with a sigh. "Your dungeon is now a high-profile, officially recognized Sanctuary, and you're allied with two major guilds. You're on the DLRB's radar now. It means you're on their radar now, Mochi! You have to follow the entire Fairy Bureau rulebook, all thousand boring pages of it! And that means no more making fun new monsters without getting a permission slip first!
She tapped her clipboard, and a magical projection of the infamous Form no 26-C appeared in the air between us. It was a nightmare. It was a hundred pages of fine print, complex legal terms, and absurdly specific questions.
"Okay, let's just get through this," FaeLina said, trying to be brave. "Question one: Minion Name."
'Clockwork Companion,' I offered.
"Good, good," she said, scribbling it down. "Question two: Primary Purpose. The options are: A) Menacing, B) Mauling, C) Maiming, or D) Other."
'Other,' I said.
"Right," she said, checking a box. "It says here if you choose 'Other,' you must 'Please justify the minion's existence in a three-page essay, submitted in triplicate'."
I felt my core dim from this unethical despair.
"Ok let's skip this for now," FaeLina said quickly. "Next question: 'Describe the minion's expected contribution to the dungeon's overall Threat Rating.'"
'Its contribution will be to make Pip feel more confident.'
"That's not a Threat Rating, Mochi! That's... emotional support! They're going to throw us out of the Bureau!"
"Sigh, Okay for the next question: 'Does this minion produce any taxable byproducts, such as gold, gems, or artisanal cheeses?'"
'No.'
"And finally," FaeLina sighed, "Please list its standard attacks, its favorite way of tearing enemies apart, and its official battle cry."
'Its main attack is a friendly pat on the back,' I replied. 'It doesn't have a favorite way of tearing enemies apart. And its battle cry is, "You can do it, Pip!" '
FaeLina dropped her clipboard. It clattered loudly on the stone floor. "This is hopeless," she groaned. "This form was designed for evil overlords, not... whatever it is you are. We'll be buried in paperwork forever. Your new power is useless now."
We were completely stuck. My grand new era of creative expression was trapped behind a wall of bureaucratic red tape.
FaeLina picked up her clipboard, ready to give up. But then, she stopped. She re-read the original regulation, her tiny eyes squinting at the fine print.
"...the creation of a new, sentient, custom-designed minion type..."
Her eyes lit up with a sudden, brilliant spark of inspiration. "Mochi..." she said slowly, a sly grin spreading across her face. "I think I found a loophole."
"The regulation is for new minion types," she explained, her voice buzzing with triumphant energy. "The paperwork is for creating something from scratch. But... what if your new creations aren't new at all?"
I didn't understand. 'What do you mean?'
"What if," she said, her grin widening, "they are just... variations? Sub-types of an existing, already-approved minion in our dungeon's registry?"
I suddenly understood her brilliant, devious plan. I couldn't get a permit for a new, friendly 'Clockwork Companion'.
But maybe, just maybe, I could get away with creating a [Pillow Fiend - Armored Clockwork Sub-Type].
It was time to fight the bureaucracy with its own twisted logic.