At the banquet-room doorway, Frank could almost believe it had never flooded. The new wall looked cleaner than the old plaster, yet he still pictured the mage sitting in filthy water trying to save his hat.
Frank checked the seam between old and new stone with a fingertip.
He'd brought the inspection sheets from Tev, Ketha, and Moss. RB rode on the lower shelf of the cart, curled around his blue ribbon; when Frank paused at the threshold, the rat sniffed toward the fountain and settled again.
Frank left him undisturbed.
The cleaning crew had worked late to get the banquet hall into shape. There was no standing water beneath the tables, the floor channels had been flushed and dried, and the old stain along the west wall had been removed down to the grout. Even the air seemed different, judging by the fact that Moss came in without a cloth tied over her nose.
"You can tell when the job's nearly done," she said, looking around. "Nobody in the doorway is gagging."
"The floor isn't dry under the fountain yet," Frank told her.
"I was trying to enjoy the moment."
"You can after we check it."
She shook her head, but her mouth turned upward. "All right, ruin it properly, then."
She'd brought a roll of fresh barrier tape under one arm, although the old rope across the door was still sound. Frank recognized that habit. Moss wasn't going to be caught short again after the opening notice had appeared over an untested pipe.
"You had a chance to go home after the night shift," he said.
"I did. Got as far as my bunk. Then Scheduling sent a runner to ask whether the room was open yet. Told him to come back at dawn and ask the people with the gauges." She rubbed a finger along the cardboard core of the tape. "I'll sleep when somebody else can sign the door."
Tev arrived carrying the final test gauge, followed by Ketha and a younger construction mason who'd fitted the replacement wall sections. The mason had been proud of the new plaster and even prouder that nobody had ordered him to repaint it after the test holes were cut. His name was Pell, and he spent several minutes explaining how he'd matched the original stone texture so carefully that a visitor might never notice the repair.
Pell had carried a small scraping tool in his apron throughout the repair, and now he used it to shave an uneven bead of mortar at the edge of the test hatch. Ketha told him twice to leave the finish alone until the pipe had been pressurized. He ignored her the first time and put the scraper away the second, red-faced at being corrected in front of the others.
"You'll get your lovely wall back," Ketha said, softer now. "Just let it survive the morning first."
He nodded, although his hand kept straying toward the scraper.
Frank was glad someone took pleasure in the finish. He took pleasure in the hidden supports, which were less attractive and far more important.
Before the water came on, they checked every isolation point. The main fountain valve had been left closed, the secondary shutoff wheel behind the former plaster panel was accessible through its proper service hatch, and the repaired return line now ran separately from the laundry connection. Ketha pointed out the new support anchors and showed the inspection marks she'd cut into the stone beside them. Any movement would be visible against the fixed lines.
Tev confirmed the reset circuit on the adjacent gate was locked into maintenance mode. Pell checked the floor drains, and Moss stationed two workers at the public entrances with barrier boards. She had agreed to a final test, not to letting guests wander in and ask why they couldn't sit at the tables.
The first water ran from the test feed into the empty fountain in a thin clear stream. The water rose to the first mark. Frank brought his lamp close to the service opening. There was no dripping at the collar or along the masonry seam. The return channel took the overflow cleanly, carrying it to the lower runoff rather than into the old camping drain.
At the second mark Tev adjusted the flow, and the fountain filled to its normal operating depth. The gauge held. Ketha crouched to inspect the support plate, measuring the gap between the bracket and the new stone. It hadn't moved.
The fountain began sounding like a fountain again: a measured spill over carved stone instead of the violent coughing they had heard during the rupture. Frank stood with his hand on the dry service hatch and listened for the knocking that should not return.
On the other side of the room Pell shifted his weight and left a faint heel mark in the dust near the repaired floor. He bent to rub it away, glanced at the running water and stopped. Ketha was watching a hairline gauge mark with such concentration that she hadn't noticed his mistake. He took his boot off the new tile and waited beside the tool case like everyone else.
Moss looked at the running water. "I'd forgotten it was supposed to be decorative."
"It was for a while," Frank said.
"Do you remember when they put the banquet room in?"
"I remember them deciding the overflow could share a return."
"You remember the bad parts of everything."
"The good parts don't usually call me back."
Pell laughed from the far side of the fountain. Ketha gave him a small smile, then turned back to the gauge before it could distract her.
They held the system at its normal level for the full test interval and ran each adjacent drain under controlled conditions. Fen's laundry staff emptied a trough upstairs according to the schedule; the return gauge showed no reverse flow. A worker in the old camping chamber ran a measured amount of water into the proper waste branch. Nothing entered the fountain. The lower runoff took both flows without backing up, and the repaired support stayed firm.
Tev shut the test feed. Ollo, waiting at the entrance with the scrubber, raised his hand as if to clap and thought better of it when he saw that everyone was still watching the gauge. He lowered it to the mop handle and stared at the falling needle as though he could help it return to zero.
Tev signed the trap-control isolation and test record, and Pell countersigned the wall work. Moss checked the sanitation sheet before handing Frank the final inspection report.
"Your turn," she said.
Frank read every line. The amounts of material used were listed, the removed parts accounted for, and the future inspection date marked in clear ink. There was an entry for the old cracked mounting pin that RB had found in the flood. Somebody had even recorded the broken piece of plaster that struck the mage when the wall went. That mattered; if the same part failed again, the next worker would have something better than a cheerful promise to go by.
He signed for the maintenance inspection and handed the sheet back.
"Room can reopen after the cleaning crew removes the test equipment," he said. "Not before."
"I'll tell dispatch," Moss replied. "And this time they can wait until I tell them the barriers are coming down."
The Core appeared above the fountain almost immediately, radiant with enthusiasm.
"What a wonderful day for our dungeon family! We have restored one of our most beloved guest experiences through teamwork, initiative, and an unwavering commitment to excellence."
The Core's smiling face rippled across the fountain water. There was no mention of the warnings filed before the rupture. The painting crew had already put the room's reopening date on a fresh banner, and someone upstairs was bound to use the story as proof that management had moved quickly.
"Congratulations to everyone involved," the Core continued. "I knew this would come together once we found the right people with the right attitude."
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Ketha wiped her hands on a rag. "We could've used the right pipe eight years ago."
"And look how much we've all learned since then," the Core replied.
He vanished before Ketha could answer. She folded the rag with slow precision, muttered something Frank couldn't quite hear, and went to put her tools away.
The morning's work didn't end with the test. Frank helped the crew remove the temporary feed lines, cleaned the inspection hatch, and carried the barriers to the storage recess. Moss checked the public route from one end to the other, looking for any remaining wet tiles or loose trim. Ollo followed with the scrubber, moving slowly where the new grout joined the old.
The final barrier came down after the repair crew and its tools had cleared the public route. Moss signed the transfer at the staff door, and Frank shut the maintenance hatch behind them. Through the narrow viewing panel he saw the first travelers come through: three adventurers dressed for a long day, with patched packs and climbing rope coiled neatly at their shoulders.
One stopped at the side-route notice and read it. The others waited without pushing past her. They took the main passage, paused at the clean fountain, and went on. The tallest pointed his bottle toward the water, but a drinking-water marker outside the hall caught his attention before he tried to fill it.
Moss watched over Frank's shoulder. "They actually read the notice."
"Some do," Frank said. "Don't tell the Core or he'll start charging for it."
An hour later they appeared in the viewing panel again. One was limping slightly and carrying snapped rope, and all three looked more tired than triumphant. They stopped at the marked drinking supply before making their way toward the exit. Nobody had had to shout at them, and nobody had opened a staff door to help them find their way.
"Funny how they get to leave after the adventure," Moss said.
Frank glanced at the work order in her hand. She'd been on her feet since before the first test bell, and now that the route was open she was already looking at the next shift's assignments. He thought about asking whether she'd taken her break. Moss would answer if she wanted to, and he suspected she hadn't.
By late shift there had been no fresh leak notice for the banquet system. Frank washed his tools at the depot and hung the repaired inspection rod where he could reach it tomorrow. One completed repair did not make the dungeon sound. It did mean the staff could use the proper entrance, and Fen would not find somebody else's chamber-pot waste in the laundry.
Moss found him there, turning the retired WET FLOOR sign over in his hands.
"You can throw that one away," she said. "It's bent."
"Still works."
"It'd work better if people could stand it up."
He examined the damaged hinge at its base. It was a simple fix, one that would take less time than persuading Inventory to issue a replacement. He put the sign aside with a note to repair it on the next quiet shift.
Moss watched him for a moment. "You going to spend your whole promotion doing the same jobs you did before?"
"Until somebody gives me different ones."
"They already have. You've opened the routes, signed off the repairs, and made Construction bring the proper test equipment. We couldn't get half of that done without a fight a month ago."
Frank set the old sign beside his tools instead of dropping it into the scrap bucket. He'd spent most of the day watching people with different jobs hold the same room to their own standards. That was not how every shift went, and tomorrow might not be so orderly.
"We used to spend half the day looking for someone who'd lend us a key," he said. "I'm glad we can get to the damn pipe now. I don't know whether that'll make anyone upstairs care why it broke."
Moss glanced at the tools he'd cleaned. "I know you don't. And if you decide it's too much trouble, tell me before you quietly start doing it all yourself again."
"I've never done all of it."
"No. But you keep trying to carry whatever's in front of you. That's what worries me." She tucked the records under one arm and went to hand over the late shift.
Bob came through the depot carrying two folded warning boards, looking for somewhere to put them. RB had been curled beside Frank's repaired rod; at the sound of Bob's voice, he lifted his head and delivered a long, plainly unfriendly squeak. "There he goes again," Bob said, smiling. "He says he missed me."
RB'S THOUGHTS
(⊙_⊙) (ಠ_ಠ) (¬_¬)
"I think he's telling you to keep moving," Frank said. He might have missed a shade or two of RB's meaning, but he was reasonably certain none of it involved missing Bob.
"That's his accent," Bob said. "Highland rat, I reckon. You hear the end of the squeak and think he's being rude."
"What the hell is a Highland rat?" Frank asked.
"Don't know. He hasn't told me that part yet." Bob nodded at another furious chitter, put one board against the empty bucket rack, and headed off with the other. Frank moved the misplaced board out of the passage before a night-shift worker could trip over it.
RB'S THOUGHTS
(ʘ言ʘ╬) (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻
Frank sat for a while before going home. The depot seemed unusually quiet; nobody was shouting for supplies, and the emergency bell hadn't rung since morning. From the far corridor came ordinary sounds of workers carrying buckets and arguing over who had borrowed the last clean brush. Frank stayed on the stool until the corridor quieted.
A ledger panel appeared above the workbench.
MAINTENANCE LEDGER
Employee
FRANK
Classification
RANK 1: DUNGEON CUSTODIAN
Task
Banquet system acceptance and verified reopening
Operational credit
+24 XP
Rank 1 experience
124 XP
Nobody had died to earn this part of the balance. It had taken Ketha's good stonework, Tev's controlled test, Sella's caution with the water, Fen's patience with the laundry, and more paperwork than Frank wanted to remember. The Core would call it one man's advancement. Frank knew exactly how many hands had kept the pipe in its wall.
When he finally left the depot, RB climbed down to walk beside him. The rat could have gone faster. Instead he matched Frank's measured pace along the service corridor, stopping only when a loose pebble caught beneath Frank's boot and rolled toward a drain. RB watched it disappear with an expression of professional interest.
At the bend near the old laundry wall, Frank found a thumb-wide damp spot low on an old mortar seam, well away from the newly repaired fountain return. The stone held firm when he tested it, and there was no loose dust beneath the mark. He penciled the edge, dated it, and left the wall intact. If the stain spread, the next inspection would have somewhere to begin.
RB squeaked softly beside his foot.
Frank headed for the stairs. RB followed, then paused at the bend to look back at the marked seam before catching up.