The morning after the broadcast, my dungeon was like a fortress of quiet, nervous energy.
The usual flood of tourists was gone; FaeLina, in a moment of pure managerial panic, had put up a sign that read, "CLOSED FOR MANDATORY EXISTENTIAL REASSESSMENT," which had only confused the crowds even more.
My team was gathered in the main lobby, and for once, no one was celebrating. They were all staring at the final line of the notification from the Royal ScryNet Guild, which was still shimmering on Dave's Scry-Orb.
[A formal inquiry from the Royal Mages' Guild will be arriving in the morning...]
FaeLina was having a complete, high-speed, and very vocal meltdown. "A formal inquiry!" she shrieked, zipping back and forth in the middle of the lobby. "From the Mages' Guild! The most powerful, rule-obsessed, and socially awkward group of people in the entire kingdom! They're going to audit our magic! They're going to look at the books! The magical books!"
