The mud of the encampment was silent, save for the crackling of the watchfires and the terrified, ragged breathing of fifty kneeling goblins.
Kaelen kept the silver edge of Elian's enchanted dagger pressed lightly against the Hobgoblin Chief's jugular. The amber venom sizzled faintly, a deadly promise.
"What are you called, Chief?" Kaelen's dual-toned voice vibrated through the damp night air.
The massive Hobgoblin swallowed hard, his crimson-mottled skin pale in the moonlight. "Gromm," he grunted, his eyes fixed firmly on the dirt. "I am Gromm. Chief of the Mud-Tooth."
"Not anymore," Kaelen corrected smoothly. He withdrew the blade, stepping back and allowing his massive, fifteen-foot emerald-and-copper tail to uncoil, displaying his full, terrifying length. "The Mud-Tooth tribe belongs to the Sunken Vaults now. I am Kaelen, Lord of the Depths. You are my subjects."
Gromm looked up, his thick brow furrowing in confusion. In the Verdant Labyrinth, the rule was simple: the strong ate the weak. Subjugation was a foreign concept to a creature born of raw instinct. "You... do not eat us?"
Kaelen scoffed, an elegant, human sound that felt entirely alien coming from a Naga. "A king does not eat his own foundation, Gromm. You have manual dexterity. You have numbers. You are far more valuable to me alive."
Kaelen turned to his vanguard leader. "Prime."
The tall Scale-Guard stepped forward, his iron spear held perfectly straight. "Lord."
"Organize them," Kaelen commanded. "They are to pack up every hide, every tool, and every scrap of meat in this filth-ridden camp. We march them to the threshold of the Sunken Vaults. This clearing is exposed. My dungeon is not."
It took less than an hour. Driven by the silent, terrifying efficiency of the Scale-Guards, the goblin tribe dismantled their entire lives. When the procession finally reached the ancient, arched entrance of the dungeon, the sky was beginning to bleed into a pale, pre-dawn gray.
Kaelen slithered to the top of a massive, moss-covered boulder overlooking the subterranean entrance. He looked down at the shivering mass of goblins.
"Gromm. Step forward."
The heavy Hobgoblin lumbered to the front of the pack, leaning heavily on a crude walking stick to favor his sliced knee tendon.
"This is your new domain," Kaelen gestured to the rocky ravine surrounding the dungeon's archway. "You will build a palisade. You will dig trenches. You will use the deadwood and the brambles of the Labyrinth to camouflage this entrance from the sky and the ground. If a human scout walks within a mile of this valley, I want them to see nothing but unbroken forest."
Gromm blinked his beady eyes. "Build... a wall? To hide?"
"To survive," Kaelen corrected coldly. "The humans who built the stone beneath us will return. When they do, your wall will be the anvil, and my Scale-Guards will be the hammer. Prove your worth as my laborers, Gromm, and your people will never go hungry or fear the predators of the Labyrinth again. Fail me, and I will feed you to the core."
The Hobgoblin Chief pounded a massive fist against his chest, bowing deeply. "We build, Lord Kaelen. Mud-Tooth builds strong."
[System Alert: Loyalty of Labor Force (Mud-Tooth Tribe) stabilized.] [Construction of 'Outer Ward' initiated. DP will be passively consumed to fortify goblin structures with minor magic.]
Satisfied, Kaelen left Prime and three Scale-Guards to oversee the goblins' excavation and descended back into the freezing, comforting gloom of the Sunken Vaults.
He moved past the Whispering Gallery, where the blood of the human adventurers still stained the enchanted marble, and slithered down into his Antechamber. The massive golden-green crystal of the Dungeon Core pulsed in a slow, rhythmic heartbeat, bathing the room in warmth.
Kaelen settled his heavy coils at the base of the pedestal.
"System," Kaelen murmured. "Open Inventory."
The spatial tear ripped open, and Kaelen reached inside, bypassing the gold coins and potion vials. He pulled out a folded piece of heavy parchment he had stripped from Elian the Rogue.
He carefully unrolled it on the obsidian floor. It was a map.
Kaelen's golden, slit pupils dilated as he studied the ink lines. It was a standard adventurer's topography map, detailing the edges of the Verdant Labyrinth. But it was the borders that drew his attention.
To the south, the forest thinned into a vast expanse of plains. And there, marked with a bold, golden sunburst, was a heavily fortified outpost: Fortress Iron-Gate. Kingdom of Aethelgard.
My brother's kingdom, Kaelen thought, a cold, venomous fury pooling in his chest. Or rather, the kingdom he stole from me.
The map confirmed his suspicions. The Sunken Vaults were located merely fifty miles north of Aethelgard's borders. The human adventurers hadn't stumbled upon this dungeon by accident; they were part of a sanctioned royal expedition. Which meant when they didn't return, his brother, the usurper King, would send a larger force.
"Let them come," Kaelen hissed to the empty room, tracing one taloned finger over the golden sunburst on the parchment. "I have 4,800 Dungeon Points, a loyal vanguard, and the mind of the man they murdered. When Aethelgard marches on the Labyrinth, they will not find a mindless beast."
He smiled, his copper fangs glinting in the core's light.
"They will find a Sovereign."