My Dungeon Has Stage Fright

How it begins

The dungeon refused to open because someone had advertised it.

Vera Holt stood outside the sealed arch holding a ribbon, a pair of ceremonial scissors and the expression she had worn through thirty years of actors discovering stage fright at the least convenient moment. Behind her waited six adventurers, a local reporter and the mayor's nephew, who had brought a sword he clearly hoped someone would notice.

Inside the mountain, something sniffed.

'I can hear you,' Vera said.

'I know,' said the dungeon. 'That's the problem.'

Its name was Perrin. According to the inheritance documents, it was a beginner-grade core with three rooms, a water feature and considerable growth potential. The documents had not mentioned anxiety. They had also described the water feature as picturesque rather than prone to flooding the treasury, which suggested an optimistic approach to disclosure.

Vera put down the scissors. 'Everyone go for tea.'

The nephew protested. She looked at him the way she once looked at tenors who said their costume made it impossible to enter on cue. He went for tea.

When the path was empty, the arch opened the width of a hand. Inside, blue light trembled over a small crystal set in a plinth.

'They'll hate the second room,' Perrin said.

'Why?'

'The puzzle isn't finished.'

'Neither were half the plays I opened.'

'Did people die?'

'Only in the reviews.'

The blue light steadied a little. A transparent panel appeared beside the arch. PUBLIC CHALLENGE REQUIREMENT: DEFEAT THREE INTRUDERS.

Vera read it twice. 'Who wrote that rule?'

'The previous keeper.'

'Did he ask what sort of challenge you wanted to be?'

The mountain went quiet. Beyond the gate, the would-be adventurers laughed over their cups. Vera recognized the sound of an audience that might be kind if given something worth doing.

She took out her old rehearsal notebook.

'Let's start with one guest,' she said.