Naomi stretched the definition of fulfilling a dungeon quest to prepare for the celebrations. Successfully defending the dungeon from the necromancers' invasions should count as one. So she filed oasis with tables full of any possible food, and around stood barrels with vines and ale. There were lanterns on posts and fires to give light. There were already several bards and musicians in town, and the adventurers loved to show off their wrestling and juggling skills, so entertainment was also available. Naomi consulted with Lisusa and two other tavern owners to make sure nothing was left out.

  But the most important part was a monument commemorating fallen defenders of On Taram. Naomi placed it opposite the north gate. On a pristine white marble block with an uneven top, were names written in gold letters. To show that she treats each of them equally, she sorted the names alphabetically, with only a short description of the person. On the sides were two brass bowls with burning fire, and some weapons and pieces of armour.

  Naomi didn’t forget about the rest of the people who took part in the battle. Between fires, she placed a diorama of how the battle looked. And she wouldn’t be herself if she didn't make it move. So, two miniature armies were clashing exactly like it happened a week ago. It was embarrassing for Naomi because she needed to place herself on the display too, but slowly, she was becoming numb to that feeling. She couldn’t do anything about how people saw her. Until she isn’t worshiped or something like that, she decided to do nothing. With time, maybe they would calm down.

  At sunset, once more, all citizens of On Taram gathered in the oasis. Not all can fit near the monument, but no one complains. Fathers took their children on their shoulders, and many people stood on the walls. King Alduin and General Serator stand next to the firebowls as the first honor guards. They did that immediately upon seeing the Dungeon Mistress creation.

  After a short prayer from Grand Priest Jathur, Naomi stepped forward to tell a few words.

  “I just wanted to say thank you. All of this.” She gestured around her. “All of that, not only the recent victory, was possible thanks to you all. On those stones are the names of those who die fighting the lich, but all of you should be remembered, too. So I make something that will ensure that memory of battle and your involvement will not fade.” Naomi gestured towards the standing figurines of armies. “Now, people in the first few rows, please sit, and allow for the people behind you to see it better. For those standing too far to see, don’t worry. Every day at noon, you would be able to see it too.” Naomi stepped to the side, and the figurines moved.

  “They are moving!” Someone gasped.

  Alduin and Serator stiffened on their posts. They saw the map with miniature armies facing each other. But they eagernes to stand as the first honor guards caused them to miss the show. They forget who the Dungeon Mistress was, and of course, she wouldn't stop at just placing some figurines to show how battle looked. She made them move on their own.

  “That’s Lord of Thunders!” Alessia suppressed her squeal with her hands, seeing a miniature rock with a rider on the back diving into the ranks of the undead. People watched the battle unfold in silence. Some were fascinated by the moving miniature armies, others because the memories of the battle came alive. However, soon there were whispers of people commenting. Every time a new portion of undead armies vanished from the board, there were shouts of joy. And when defenders lost some of their men, adventurers started shouting.”

  “For the fallen!”

  After a few minutes, cultist forces were decimated, and dark blades appeared around the grand lich.

  “Dungeon Mistress is marching!” Someone shouted, seeing a lone figurine walking forward to the lich.

  “I was curious, Dungeon Mistress, if you include yourself.” Grand Forge Master whispered to Naomi, who was red with embarrassment.

  “I didn’t want to do that, but the story wouldn’t be whole.”

  “True.” Dwarven priest agrees.

  When the figurine of Dungeon Mistress reached the lich, everything ended, and all miniature armies returned to their starting places. People started laughing and shouting in joy, as if this were a real battle and a real victory.

  During the feast, Naomi did not sit. She was walking from one table to another, to at least briefly talk and exchange a few words. Even though people knew her and didn't panic when she approached someone, her status created an insurmountable gulf for most.

  Most adventurers didn’t have much trouble talking to her.

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  “Dungeon Mistress! Over here!” Paoli shouted. Around her were other adventurers from the top teams. Naomi felt a tinge of grief at not seeing some of the faces among them, the people who died during a battle.

  “Finally, I reach all of you.” She suppressed her emotions so as not break a festive mood.

  “Yeah. That is the biggest festival I ever heard of.” Crall laughed. “The tables are going on and on. I can’t tell how many of them there are.”

  “Me neither.” Naomi laughed.

  “Dungeon Mistress. There is one mystery about the battle that bothers us all.” Paoli spoke.

  “Oh? What mystery?” Naomi was surprised. She didn’t see anything strange during the battle.

  “At the beginning of your fight or a moment before it, a scream of a lich was heard. Most people are saying that she was shouting some obscene words, most likely in your direction. So everyone is curious what you tell her to piss her so badly.” Paoli asked.

  Naomi squinted eyes, trying to remember the exact moment. That day was so full of events that most of them were just a blur.

  “Oh no. Sorry, Paoli, I can’t.” Naomi's eyes opened wide when she finally remembered that moment. “After I learn what was done to her to make her a lich, it's not right to repeat those words.”

  “And what do they do to her?” Nurmela asked.

  Naomi paused for a moment, frantically thinking about what to say without revealing what truly happened to the women called Joana and people like her.

  “I can’t say the details, because they are so horrible that you can’t even imagine. I can only tell that the necromancer, chosen to be a lich, is actually a victim. After the ritual, he stopped being a person and became a slave of twisted gods, without even knowing that.” Naomi finally said.

  “Fucking cultist. They are so mad that they even torture and enslave their own people.” Crall commented.

  “Well, they made their choice when they became the necromancers. Everyone knows how bad that choice is, and if someone chose it regardless, then he doesn’t deserve my respect.” Nurmela shrugged.

  “True!” Paoli shouted. “That's why we want to hear your story, Dungeon Mistress.”

  Adventurers around started shouting

  “Story! Story! Story!”

  “Alright!” Naomi gave up. “I will tell you. But fair warning, it's nothing big.” She took a few gulps of ale and continued. “After I reached the lich, I tried convince her to surrender. Obviously, it didn’t work for the reason mentioned earlier. Before we start the fight, I remembered a lesson taught by Paoli here, and Lady Itylara that a composed opponent is the hardest to fight.”

  “Exactly!” Paoli was proud of Naomi. “Piss your enemy and keep calm, and you can win almost any fight.”

  “But what did you, Dungeon Mistress, say to her?” Nurmela asked.

  “During a time when plans for the battle were made, we read anything we knew about the grand lich to predict how she would react to some of our decisions. The notes mentioned that, for some reason, she was very sensitive about her appearance. So I used that against her.”

  “Please, Dungeon Mistress. Tell us exactly what you say.” Paoli pressed.

  Naomi takes a deep breath. She felt her cheeks grow hot and red, visible even in the dim light of the fire and torches.

  “I told her the taxidermist had messed up his work on her body.”

  Everyone fell silent for a moment, staring at Naomi, then burst out laughing. Some even were crying. The story spread like wildfire. Within an hour, everyone in the oasis heard it. And Naomi was forced to tell it countless times. There were even people who swore they saw the goddess of fun rolling on her back in an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

  It was an hour or two after midnight when Naomi spotted Crall sitting alone, staring at one of the campfires. This late at night, only a few people were present. With a down, most of them would need to return to work, or, like Paoli, they needed to take care of their children. She was about to leave him alone, but a look on Crall’s face made her approach him.

  “Can I sit here?” She asked.

  “Dungeon Mistress, of course you can.” He answered.

  “What I mean is to ask you if you prefer to be left alone with your thoughts or not.” She smiled.

  “I’m not a scholar to think about a universe or something similarly big. And distraction would be welcome, Dungeon Mistress.”

  “You can’t fool me. I know you are smarter than you pretend to be. So what bothers you?”

  “The fall of that town.” He sighted. “Until now, it was only a scary story. And now it happened. And if it happened once, it could happen again. I bet that the inquisition is searching day and night for any traitor they could find, but one they already missed.”

  “Yeah.” Naomi agreed. “In the next few days, I will be working on a letter to give some hope to all of you.”

  “I don’t want to be disrespectful, Dungeon Mistress, but it won’t work.”

  “It's something I’m afraid of too. Again, some noble telling that everything is fine. People aren’t stupid.”

  “Can you, Dungeon Mistress, tell me how you deal with something like that in your world?”

  “We just talk to each other to get to know each other. We don’t have magic or paths to prove who we are.”

  “It helps a lot when you're looking for someone for your team.”

  “Sorry for your loss.”

  “Thora was a fine scout.” He nodded.

  Naomi sat next to him for some time until he decided it was time to get some sleep.