Book Seven, Part 4. Chapter "Several Days ago" and chapter Rosetta (Patreon)

If you're reading this later, these two chapters fall between chapters 68 and 69.



Part 4 of 4

The Peeling of Larracos.

Several days earlier.

“No,” Katia said, looking about. “No, please. Not this.” A bird appeared on her shoulder. A bird with the skull of a child, and it rubbed its small, ghoulish head against Katia’s in a gesture of comfort. This was her card from the previous floor. The bird’s name was Annie.  

Something had gone wrong. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was in Katia’s dream. I was supposed to have gone and experienced a dream from Shi Maria’s point of view, and Katia was supposed to have faced this dream on her own.

I remembered, sort of, what had happened. We’d taken the potions and had both gone a little loopy. In that moment, I’d felt something strange. It was as if... as if I’d been wrapped in plastic this whole time, and for just a moment, that plastic was gone. I had popped open like a tree whose bindings has suddenly been cut. My reach wasn’t far, but it was clearly beyond what it was supposed to be.

Katia and I had reached forward and touched hands. Edgar had yelled, and Imani was there, separating us.

But she had only separated us physically. There was a second connection between Katia and myself, and that was what had bound me to her dream.

In that moment, I’d connected with more than just Katia. I’d caught the briefest of glimpses of everyone nearby. Of Mordecai and that deep, bottomless well of sadness within. Of Rosetta, and the tired rage. Of Edgar the tortoise and the strange sense of both fear and wonder at all the things he was suddenly remembering from his hundreds of past lives. Of Bucket Boy the crocodilian NPC, who wondered why he didn’t remember the things the other strippers said they did, and the shame he felt because of it, like it meant he somehow wasn’t worthy.

And Imani. Oh, god. Imani. Most of what I saw with the others was emotion and maybe an inkling at what caused it, but with her, and Katia, I saw more. I saw what Imani carried. It was just a glimpse, but it was so, so much. She’d fled her home in Detroit, and her older brothers and sisters blamed her for leaving the family. But she had to. She had to get away. She’d earned her nursing certificate and found a job in what she considered the middle of nowhere. A relatively small, beautiful town where drugs and violence and despair were just something one saw on the news. She was always chasing peace despite the overwhelming guilt she carried, like a heavy sack she couldn’t put down. She was sick of being looked at as the one in charge, the one who had to make the tough decisions. She didn’t want that responsibility, yet it always fell to her, despite her always being the youngest one in the room.

She was in love with Chris, and I had no idea. She loved his simplicity. His quiet kindness.

It felt so private, so dirty for me to have learned about this in such a way. Like I had broken into her house and spied her utterly naked, all without her knowing.

She hadn’t invited me into her mind, and I should have looked away. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know how. My only solace was that I knew—somehow I knew—I’d forget much of this when I finally woke up.     

And I had learned all that after just the briefest glimpse.

Donut, thankfully, wasn’t in the room for this. She’d been sprayed by the skunks and was still in the saferoom. That was a relief. Nobody deserved to have their mind invaded like that.  

It sees us like this, I thought. This is what the dungeon sees. This is what the dungeon knows.

But that wasn’t true, was it? It was in our heads, yes, but it wasn’t that deep. It interpreted things incorrectly all the time. It didn’t see what I saw. Or maybe it did, but it just didn’t understand because it had never been human.

And what I saw with Imani was just a fraction of what I now knew about Katia.  

We stood at the threshold to a hospital. There was a large statue of a chipmunk wearing a bucket hat in the entrance, a generic, please-don’t-sue-us interpretation of one of the duo from Chip and Dale. A children’s hospital. All the signs were in Icelandic. Here, in the dream, I couldn’t read the writing but spoken words still translated themselves in my mind.

Katia and I remained attached. I looked, and our hands were intertwined, my skin touching hers, as if we’d been surgically affixed. Her bird was like that, too.

Katia took a deep breath and moved closer to me so our arms touched. She gave me a shy smile, not at all surprised I was here with her.

A second Katia, this one a memory ghost, rushed toward the door from the outside, clutching a folder filled with papers.

The memory ghost opened the door. I was shocked at how different, how smaller she looked. This was not the Katia I knew. This woman, struggling with papers as she bungled her way through the front door of the hospital was not someone I would ever give a second glance.

The Katia I knew. The real Katia. She was a blazing presence. A force of nature. I knew that’s not how it started, and the Katia I first met on the third floor was much like this memory ghost before us now, but seeing the two contrasted at the same time was shocking.    

“This is the moment,” the real Katia said. “This is the second worst moment in my life.”

The woman in the doorway paused, eyes going wide. I turned to see the man who had caught her attention. He was older, balding. This was Fannar. Her ex. Another professor. He’d had an affair with a student, and she’d reported him, and they had done nothing.    

“What are you doing here?” the memory ghost of Katia asked.

“Telling them the truth,” Fannar said, pushing past her.

“No,” both Katias said at the same time. From her shoulder, Annie cawed.

Later, as the dream continued, as we watched Katia plead with the woman who would ultimately deny her application to adopt, and as both versions of Katia shouted He had no right!, we watched in silence as the woman told Katia there was nothing she could do, and that Katia should just go home and focus on her own health.

But Katia didn’t go home. She left the office, she turned into a bathroom, and she locked herself into a stall. We followed, unwillingly observing as she sat down on the toilet, put her fist into her mouth, and she silently screamed. We stood in silent witness as the dream Katia screamed and screamed and screamed.

After what seemed like forever, she wiped her tears, stood, and marched out of the bathroom.

She paused in the doorway to the bathroom, and she turned down the hallway leading away from the exit.

“I was so scared I’d never see her again,” the now Katia said as we followed, floating along like ghosts. “I’d already visited Annie several times at this point, and I hoped the nurses hadn’t yet been told about what Fannar had said.”

We watched dream Katia hesitantly poke her head through a pair of doors, stopping at a nurse station. “I just wanted to say hello to Annie,” dream Katia said to the nurse sitting there, who was reading an English-language romance novel.  

“Oh, hi Katia. She’s having a good day today,” the nurse said without even looking up.

Katia thanked the nurse and entered a long room near the end of the hall. There were six or seven cribs in here, but all were empty except one. The little girl was on her back, playing with her toes and happily babbling. A blue, stuffed dog sat in the crib. Several colorful cutouts decorated the walls. It was a stark contrast with the machines dotted around the room.   

“Hello, my love,” dream Katia said to the baby as she entered. Another nurse was at the counter and smiled as Katia entered.

“Hello, Katia,” the nurse said. “You can pick her up. Just be careful. She hasn’t pulled anything out today, and we are trying to keep it that way, right little Annie?” The nurse wrote something down and then turned and left the room, leaving Katia alone with the baby.

Little Annie giggled and stood up in the crib. If it wasn’t for the strange, splint-like device on the baby’s arm—which appeared to be a harness to keep her from yanking out her IV—I’d have no idea she was sick. But then I saw the little girl’s eyes, which didn’t seem to focus. Only then could I see something truly was wrong. Though Annie didn’t seem to know that. She let out a loud, happy laugh at the sound of Katia’s voice.

“I have nothing left,” dream Katia said to little Annie, keeping her voice happy and playful. “You were all I had, and I’m not even good enough for that.”

“You know that’s not true, right?” I said as we both watched.

“Brain cancer,” the now Katia said, smiling lovingly at the little girl who bounced up and down at the edge of the crib. “It is such an aggressive, evil thing. It’s not fair that we can now just drink a potion, and it’s gone. I was sick, too. I should never have tried to hide that. But I was fine and would be for a while. Long enough.” She reached down to touch the face of the little girl, and her hand went right through. “How could someone abandon such an angel?”

“How long ago was this?” I asked as the dream Katia picked up the little girl and held her in her arms, being careful not to tangle the IV tube. Tears streamed down the face of both versions of the woman.

“About a year ago. She was gone before it happened, thank god. She died in this room, I think. I could have taken her home and given her love, but I couldn’t even have that. She died without anybody to call her own. Nobody even told me. It wasn’t until I ran into that same nurse who was reading the book. She’d said it so casually, too, like it hadn’t mattered. ‘Oh, that girl? She passed a few weeks ago.’” The now Katia reached up and stroked the other Annie, the bird on her shoulder. “She was like me, in that way. All alone.”  

I didn’t know what to say. What does one say to that? I felt dirty all over again, like I was seeing something so personal, so raw, nobody should be allowed to ever witness it.  

Katia continued. “And every time I try to love somebody, we end up hurting each other. I do that, Carl. I hurt those I love.”

“No,” I said, finally finding my voice. “No to all of that. We are family, Katia. You were in an impossible situation here, just like how we are in an impossible situation now. But we are family, and that’s something they can never take away, no matter what happens.”

Dream Katia clutched the baby to her chest, and the little girl clung back onto her. And as they clutched onto each other, Katia swayed back and forth, singing to the girl.

“And here is the worst moment of my life because I know it’s the last time I will ever see her,” Katia said. A moment passed. “It’s also my favorite memory, and it is where I keep coming back to.”

We remained silent for some time, watching Katia sing and dance with the baby, who was soon asleep.

The now Katia reached up and wiped her eyes. “At this moment, I was so sure I was going to kill myself after this that I actually felt this calming sense of peace. But then I thought to myself, what if they change their mind? Then who would she have? And the fear would come back.” Baby Annie let out a little sigh. “They never did change their minds. And then when I saw the nurse at the park, and she told me Annie was dead, as if it was nothing, I lost all the hope I had all over again.”  

I recognized that moment of finality for what it was. I’d felt it, too. In that way, Katia and I were more alike than I’d ever realized. The last moment of the crash.

Come on now, the woman had said to me.

I stepped even closer to Katia, and I leaned my head down so it touched hers, and together, we watched dream Katia dance with the child she never had.

“She knows,” I finally said, watching Katia and Annie together. “You couldn’t be together in the end, but right here, in this moment, she knows.”

“I know,” Katia said. “That’s why it’s my favorite memory.”  

A few minutes passed.

“I’m worried about Daniel,” Katia finally said. “I’m worried he’s going to do something stupid if this thing with Huanxin Jinx doesn’t work out.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m worried about him, too. He loves you.”

“And I love him,” Katia said. She turned to look at me. Our hands were still connected. On her shoulder, Annie the bird spread her wings and cawed. “But as much as I love him, I want you to know I love you and Donut more.” She pointed at the dancing woman and infant. “I love you both just as much as I ever loved those two right there.”    

We touched heads again. I thought of Asher. Of my father. My mother. I mourned what could have been.   

“If we stick around long enough, you can see me almost get arrested,” Katia finally added. We both laughed as she wiped her eyes. “You know what? I think Mordecai’s stupid plan is actually...”

But we never got to finish. Everything was shattered a moment later as Shi Maria, confused and screaming, burst into the room, jump scaring us both as Katia’s dream and my dream finally collided with one another.

“I didn’t kill him,” Shi Maria shouted at us, pushing her way through the memory ghost of Katia and Annie. She pressed her face right up to mine. Her eye was open and shining, but I felt nothing from it. “I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him! I did not, I did not, I did not!”

“Bitch, you swallowed me whole,” a new voice said.   

Rosetta

Baroness Victory: I was able to check the financial feed during the adjudication while we waited for that idiot Ferdinand to come down out of the rafters. It appears the money has reached the intended destination. Obviously we can’t see what’s really happening out there anymore, but we can still see transactions and their amounts. I can’t decipher what the gods is happening in the Naga system, but there was a transaction more than big enough to suggest your people were able to purchase two ships, despite the apparent chaos in the system. Assuming your Homecoming Queen starship follows your orders and shoots down that yacht, our transaction is done.

Rosetta: Thank you, Baroness. I know your sister would be proud. The captain who remained on board knows his duty and will follow through if he hasn’t already. Now what the hells is going on with the War Mages?

Baroness Victory: Just because we have dealings together outside the dungeon doesn’t mean I am not taking my duties as adjutant seriously. I told you before I will not cheat nor will I help you cheat. Any information I give about in-dungeon rulings must go through warlords Carl or Donut. That said, everything is fucked. That’s what’s going on. We’re all going to die because the AI is insane.

Rosetta sighed with relief. No matter what happened next, her primary mission was complete. If it all fell apart now, it wouldn’t be her fault.  

Still, despite her absolute hate for the orcs, she felt ill about the transaction. The yacht they’d agreed to kill in exchange for the pin number contained several children. Orc children, yes, but children nonetheless. And now that Stalwart was dead, one of those children was the new king of the Skull Empire.

Assuming York actually did his duty and didn’t decide to write a poem or something instead, once he shot down the orc yacht, that would leave Princess Formidable in charge of the Skull Empire, assuming she was still alive somewhere on Earth’s surface. And if she was dead, then it would be the Maestro, despite him being supposedly disowned by his father.

There were no circumstances in which Baroness Victory would end up in charge of the Skull Empire, not unless she first killed about 1,000 other nobles spread across the galaxy, so her motivations in helping the Pacifist network were a mystery to Rosetta. This deal had been brokered between Porthus and Victory long before Victory was even chosen as an adjutant. Once again, he seemed to be a few steps ahead of everybody else.

Porthus, I hope you know what you’re doing. If all was going to plan, Porthus, along with all the others, namely the families of those who’d entered the dungeon, would be boarding the generation ship they just bought with their stolen funds and hauling tail to the Plenty system, where they would give one of the expensive ships along with the rest of the money to the goats in exchange for passage to the “forbidden” gate of the Impetus Point, the tunnel node that reached the furthest point in the known galaxy. And from there they would set out and get as far from the center system as possible, only to return when and if the inevitable wars and chaos settled.  

So far, everything had occurred exactly as Porthus predicted. At least, everything outside the dungeon had gone as Porthus had predicted, which was more than a little disconcerting. It was that woman, Rosetta knew. The witch that had his ear. The Apothecary. Rosetta wasn’t one to believe in anything supernatural outside the confines of an enhancement zone, but there was something spooky about that creature. Rosetta didn’t trust her, and she’d told Porthus thus multiple times.

She’s on our side, Porthus had said.

Is she? Rosetta had asked. How can you be so sure? There’s a reason why people don’t trust collective minds, Porthus. They’re always five steps ahead of everybody else. There’s a reason everybody hates this thing. Do you see how they portray her in the dungeon? She’s a tentacle monster that takes over minds. It’s fucking terrifying. Who knows what she really looks like. For all you know she’s leading our families to her prime body so she can eat us, like some sort of fucked-up food delivery service.  

You’ll have to trust me, he’d said.

I do trust you. I don’t trust her. It. Whatever we’re supposed to call her. I don’t know what it’s in it for her.

She most definitely prefers to be called her. And I do know what’s in it for her. She has a very good reason for all this.   

What, then? What is it?

I can’t tell you, he’d said with that stupid, smug smile of his. I promised her I wouldn’t tell you. Not if you want to go into the dungeon. Because if you know and enter the dungeon, then the local AI might learn. And if the local AI learns, then the Eulogist will eventually know.

What the fuck does that even mean? Isn’t the Eulogist dead?

It means you need to trust me.      

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? She rubbed her leg, thinking hard. She trusted Porthus with all her heart. As much shit as she gave him, he was always right. He’d picked her up after she’d finally escaped the dungeon, after cycles and cycles as a merchant in the mercenary guild, being forced to grit her teeth and work with the filthy bastards who played faction wars, including then-Prince Rust himself, who didn’t even recognize her.

And why would he?

He’d killed Brooks with that goddamned whip of his. Faction Wars had been over, and the orcs had made the transfer to the Scolopendra Club. And even then, standing on the other side of the glass, they’d mocked them, the crawlers who’d given everything to survive those horrible days. They’d taken the librarians and other NPCs, and Brooks had tried to stop it. In his rage, Brooks had cast spell after spell at the portal screen. And on the other side, the orcs had laughed and laughed. Rust, still laughing, had stepped back through the portal, lassoed Brooks, and pulled him into the glass, which had cut him right in half. It had been so casual, so fast. Brooks had died immediately.

But Rosetta remembered. She would never forget. She relished that moment when she used the whip to decapitate the old orc.

Tipid: Shouldn’t we be doing something? Are we just waiting for Donut to figure out how to safely break apart that battle formation? And what about Harpocrates? That crawler distracted him, but he’s turning back toward the tower again. It sounds like Yarilo is on the move again, too.  

Rosetta: There’s nothing we can do for the moment. Just stand by. I’ve ordered Li Na to assist the NPCs, but she is currently in a fit of hysterics over the death of her brother. Carl is free of the Madness castle, and he will likely address her soon.

Justice Light: We need to move on the war mage threat immediately. They have the Gate. I do not understand why they are not allied with the other NPCs. I do not understand why that Residual is their warlord. We do not know their plans, and that is dangerous. They are going to ruin everything.

Rosetta: Look. I do not disagree, old comrade. I don’t relish dying here, but we all knew what we were getting ourselves into. We knew winning Faction Wars was a long shot. Our goal is and was to show the universe this cruelty will no longer be tolerated, and no matter what happens next, I think our message has already taken seed. Perhaps these mages winning, no matter what their motives are, is not such a bad thing. It will be quick for us, and all the remaining mercenaries and leaders will be dead, which is beyond what we even imagined.

Justice Light: I am not done yet. We need to fight.

Rosetta: With all the crawlers dead, the Ascendency will immediately kick off, and Rectrix will get to work. And perhaps after all this, York and Rectrix will survive. If we pull off some miracle, and the crawl continues even longer, we risk the AI gaining even more strength.    

Which is what that Apothecary thing wants, she didn’t add.

But even as she thought that, Rosetta was filled with doubt.

Agatha. Why was that Agatha creature the warlord of the war mage team? How in the name of the gods had that even happened? It didn’t make any sense.

It was already known that the strange “human” was a residual with a knack for disappearing and reappearing at just the right moment. And even though they tried to erase her from the feed, she’d grown quite the following. But now it was clear she was the other kind of residual. The more rare kind that was more in line with the Nebulars, who worshipped the Eulogist. And that made Agatha the enemy of the Apothecary, the galaxy’s biggest advocate for shutting down the center system.

And while Rosetta didn’t trust the Apothecary, she trusted this residual thing less. Her initial, gut instinct had been to let them win, but Justice Light was correct. They didn’t know what their true motivations were. Why were they trying to kill everybody? Why were they suddenly trying to end the crawl as quickly as possible? And most importantly, why was the local AI allowing this to happen?  

We should have hunted her down and killed her. The moment Rosetta had learned there was still one of those residual things pinging around the dungeon, she should have made certain it was removed. It hadn’t seemed important at the time. Residuals were always in the dungeon. They were harmless.

She was filled with doubt about what they should do.

Neither Tipid nor Justice Light knew anything about Porthus’s plans other than sending them here to assist in the chaos. For them, that was enough. Their revenge was the same as the others. Coming here and helping the current crawlers, this time willingly, was their last, great statement to the cruel galaxy which had ignored them for too long. As Carl so bluntly put it. You will not break me. I will break you.  

Or at least, she thought coming here was going to be enough for the others. Justice Light had some project he was working on. Whatever it was, Porthus didn’t know about it because he would have told her. Porthus told her everything. Almost everything.

Justice Light: Rosetta, you are the most stubborn person I have ever known. But I need you to trust me in this. We need to get that gate back. We need to win this day. We need to move fast. Once those defensive towers spin up, we will be in dire trouble.  

She sighed and looked again at the battle map. There were only four teams left, not including these war mages. The NPCs, the Princess Posse, the Dream—which was as good as defeated, and the Reavers.   

Even before the dungeon, Rosetta grew up in a world where showing kindness was viewed as weakness. Still, she felt kindness toward Justice Light. And Tipid. And Carl and Donut and all the others who fought so hard for what they believed despite the overwhelming odds.

Was it ever okay to stop fighting? Was there grace in saying, I have made my mark, and now it’s time to rest?  

She thought of her own mother, who’d come into the dungeon with her. She’d died on the first day, killed by goblins. Avenge us, was the last thing her mother had said to her.  

She thought again of that moment when she’d decapitated Rust. She’d almost missed the opportunity because Tipid, unaware of the plan with the bank, had tried to hide the orc’s presence from her. Their original plan had been to get what they needed from Stalwart, but Rust’s presence had made everything so much easier. And it was poetic, no?

Yet, yet... No amount of revenge would ever bring her mother back. It would never bring Brooks back. No matter how many orcs and orc children she killed, her people would still be dead. She hadn’t even known Brooks. She’d seen hundreds and hundreds die before that point, yet that single death had broken her in a way she just didn’t understand.   

Cycles and cycles later, when she’d finally exited the dungeon, it was Porthus who’d given her the money and backing to make her first attempt at retribution. She’d been a journalist in the before times, one of the most dangerous, subversive jobs in her country. Or, at least she’d been in school to be a journalist. Her documentary, The Other Side of the Glass, had resonated, but like with all things that were hard to look at, people clicked their tongues in sympathy and then immediately looked away.

But they couldn’t look away any more, and she was glad to be part of this, even if that meant she was likely to die. Like she’d said so many times, they knew what they were getting themselves into when they boarded Homecoming Queen.  

Everyone who enters the dungeon, dies there, even if they leave.

She’d watched Carl’s speech to Donut about masks, and she’d wept. She’d wept at how hopeful it was. She’d wept at how cynical she felt in the moment. At the pity she’d felt for Carl and Donut, thinking how naïve it was that he thought she’d ever be able to remove that mask.

Was she wrong? Maybe so.

Porthus’s plan, whatever it was, appeared to be on track.

Rosetta’s job was done. No matter what happened here in the dungeon, it didn’t matter anymore.

But Justice Light was her comrade. Her brother. And so was Carl and Donut and all the other crawlers on this floor. And, in the end, she trusted Porthus. She more than trusted him. She loved him, despite his unhealthy obsession with finding a missing crawler from his own crawl. Menerva.

And if Porthus trusted this Apothecary, then maybe she should fight against whatever this creature’s enemies were planning.

Maybe it was a mistake, but nobody could ever fault her for fighting for her friends. There was poetry in that. too.

General Rosetta: Comrades, sound off. The fight has moved to the city. The enemy has changed, and they have taken the castle of Larracos. We don’t know how many there are, but we fight. We fight with all we have.

Class: Gazetteer

Race: Crest.

Birth Race: Crest.

Top Level: 87

Dungeon Exit: Took deal at the beginning of the 11th floor.

Worked in the Desperado Club as a merchant renting mercenaries and occasionally was in charge of distribution of the dungeon newsletter. Upon dungeon exit became a journalist and filmmaker of some renown and eventually as host of the series Shadow Boxer. Eventually returned to the dungeon to assist the Princess Posse to help fight and to assist the mysterious Open Intellect Pacifist Network finance their great plan. 

Author of the Ninth Edition of the Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook.

Current status: Alive.

~~~~~~
Hey all. Full steam ahead. Finally got to reveal a few, smallish things I set in motion literally years ago and am happy to finally get them out in the open. It was nice to do a quick pause for some character studies. Still not positive on the order I reveal all this info. I have a whole Louis thing I've written, for example, that I still need to shove in here somewhere and I don't want it in such close proximity to these two chapters. I think I may end up putting it way earlier, especially since some people have noted the action is outweighing the character development, causing a "rushed" feeling, which is good in a ways since we're already well over 200K words. Anyway, I think I know how I'm going to end this, but I'm not positive yet. We'll see how it goes. We're almost there. Thanks for all your support.