You must be this old to enter the Dungeon

43) Men make plans, and the gods laugh

I though about warning Johanson… and the other guy, about my about my new guard dog just to be nice, I really did.

But, I don't think it would attack them, and if they ended up shooting the crap out of it or something, it would be funny. And it looked like I could always call it back up again. Maybe with some things added to it… The yard waste center wasn't that far away.

Was there a limit on how big I could make a Guardian? Every loose bit of dead plant life on my property seemed to have been sucked up into making it. But not anything like the coyote poop.

Did it all have to be from stuff that grew on my land?

But it was also supposed to act on my behalf according to my desires, so it could also just be that nothing I didn't want sucked up, got sucked up into the… what do I call it? The brush pile? Big Dog? Skitterwood?

The Heap. I'm going to call it the Heap and I'm not worried about it attacking the soldier boys. Messing with them, maybe, hurting them, no.

Because I wouldn't.

I'm not worried about it hurting the cops or random passerbys either, but… What if Beryl came by again.

It's not like I got her number, but then I don't need it do I? I headed back and laid my hand on the Heap, not that I thought I needed to, but it seemed appropriate.

"Don't attack Beryl."

It didn't respond in any way, but from what I understood it wouldn't. But as far as I was concerned, I had done my due diligence.

Now what? I had some things to do, but what do I start with?

When you're unsure what to do and full of doubt, make a list and spell things out.Inside the house, I uncapped the green dry erase marker to make a list on the dry erase board hung up next to the door from the kitchen to the living room, and started writing "To do" on the top, only to find out the thing had gone bone dry at some point.

A few minutes, one hammer, a nail, a still working black felt tip pen, and an unfolded cardboard box impaled on the blunt head of the nail, and I was back in business.

The cardboard wasn't reusable, but I had plenty more of the stuff.

Immediate – Do Today

Dinner

Find next dungeon to hit

Figure out how to get there and how to get in

Figure out how to buy the property next door

I looked at the list and nodded to myself. "That seems like what I can handle finishing today." Especially since most of it involved looking things up on the computer.

Short term – Do This Week

Finish awaking land and deal with whatever fresh headache that involves

Buy property

Claim it magic wise

Head out to new Dungeon for points and

I started to write down rocks, then drew a line through 'and'. Since I wasn't supposed to keep any of the rocks from the dungeon monsters I decided it might be best not to put anything in writing that I had been keeping them.

Of course, since Wylina was now about twice as big as she started at, it wouldn't be hard for anyone to figure out I had done something to her, but maybe I could claim it was some kind of Kami thing. Or at least the people who didn't want to look too hard at me since they needed to work with me would at least have that 'plausible deniability' thing.

And since I still had half a sheet of cardboard box left on the wall.

Long Term – Before I die.

"That… might be more time than I thought I would have to work with."

Acquire more land.

Get Bea here if things look like they are getting bad

Ask system once a week to find out how bad things are

"Since Brackets seems to be more chatty than I thought it would be, why not take advantage?"

I looked at my list and then added one last thing to Long term.

Awaken more trees?

I stared at the last one for a long moment, then added two more question marks before putting the cap back on the pen.

An hour later I was looking at my new bank balance while talking to a Realtor on the phone. "No I don't want an inspection done, the house is a burned down wreck, I just want the land."

Tom something or other sighed at me over the phone. "I understand Mr. Bright, but you need to know what you will be responsible for in terms of clearing away the wreckage. The property had been abandoned and the city had taken over the ownership of the land. But anyone buying the lot has to guarantee that they will deal with the wreckage within thirty days or you could end up getting fined."

I glanced out my window at the remains of the house, and at the Heap as it trundled into view. "I'll sign whatever they need me to sign, Tom. Just get things moving so that I can sign something. The city can get their money, you can get your cut, and I can get my land."

Tom once again began trying to explain something to me, and I realized he was actually trying to help me. Which I decided was nice of him, but also annoying. "Tom, let me make something clear here. I'm seventy five, do you understand what that means right now?"

That got an "Oh…" from the other side of the phone.

"I've cleared one dungeon already, that is, I helped clear one. And I got hurt. Really badly. Twice. If it wasn't for the fact that I'm sort of a healer and had access to another one, I would be, well, crippled. If not dead."

Tom said "Ah…" Yeah, not a conversation you got the content to be in buddy, I get it.

"Let me finish Tom. My Class makes me stronger by having land under my ownership. I get this lot, now, before I go into another dungeon. Then I get to go in stronger, and more likely to come back out alive. Another Dungeon gets closed, and I stay alive to close another one after that."

I took in a deep breath. This felt a little mean, but…

"You sound fairly young Tom, but I'm sure you got family old enough they… Well, I'm someone who is doing this. And you can help me do this so others don't have to. Can you help me Tom?"

'Yeah…" There was a pause, then. "Yes. This is something I can do. I will get you that land Mr. Bright, and Sir…"

I grunted in a friendly manner.

"Thank you for your service. I'll try to get back to you today with confirmation of your new property."

I finished up the call with a "Thanks." and a "Good Afternoon."

Then I leaned back in my chair for a moment, then lifted up a one eye pup that was getting a little too big for sitting on my lap as I thought about that last bit. The thank you.

That felt a little... sketchy.

I wasn't a volunteer. I didn't sign up for anything. I more or less got drafted like everyone else my age and older, and if I thought I could have let others go off and die in my place, I would have let them.

What I had done wasn't a service, to others, or to my nation. It had been to save my own ass from rotting away from the inside out and dying in an overcrowded prison for old people after being taken away from everything I cared about.

The same fate as every old person not lucky enough to just drop dead had to fear.

Now it was about getting powerful, to game this set up for points to take care of my own, not others.

Being thanked, like someone who had served in the military, either because they volunteered or got forced into it and decided to serve rather than go to jail. It didn't feel right.

"Gratitude. It feels like a burden they are putting on me. Like I owe them now to keep doing what I did because they thanked me."

That… that doesn't feel like a healthy way to think about things. It does however seem like a grumpy, mean old man's way of thinking about things.

Which means, that on a basic level, no matter how high my Intuition is, I'm still me.

I don't want or need your gratitude, just do what I paying you to do, and then get out of my way.

Hell. Do that, and I'll thank you.

"Yeah, I can work like that."