Chapter 150 - Introduction to Advanced Pimplore (Patreon)

The trio of adventurers exit the relaxation room and enter a golden corridor with paintings on both sides of the wall, six in total. At the end of this familiar passage lies a t-shaped split leading to three doors. The magical spotlights flicker on and off, all pointing straight at the giant door to the east.

This door is easily more immense than the mini-boss room’s door that came before it, and it’s a wondrous sight to behold. Carved into the door is an intricate mural of Sir Pimpington facing down a mirrored version of his knightly past-self, each man impaling the other in the heart with the same rapier. At the point of impact on each man’s heart is a large lock with an empty and awaiting keyhole.

I believe it’s evident to everyone that behind this symbolic door is the man himself. More specifically, it’s his boss room. Many dungeons are noted for locking off their boss monsters behind locked doors, and if I’d assume the doors leading to the north and the south will contain the keys we need to open the path to Pimpington.

First things first, the girls stop to check the various paintings out of obligation.

“While we’re here, we might as well...” I sigh, giving my express permission to go ahead and get this ham-fisted dungeon exposition over with.

Sam, Meri, and Zutiria all excitedly begin to look through the artwork depicting our enemy’s inner psyche... or however this works, I’m still not totally sure.

It seems these paintings tell a story in three sequential parts on each row.

Starting with the left-hand wall, we have a painting of the Guild receptionist discussing something with an unknown older man. He seems to be a high-ranking member of the Association, perhaps the Guild Master of Imperalis’s Adventurer’s Guild. He’s checking over paperwork that the woman just handed him, an almost sickening grin on his face like a secret joke that makes sense only to him. The woman, too, is laughing at something, though she seems a bit more conflicted.

Neither member of the conversation is aware that Sir Chasteworthe is listening in from another room. Whatever they’re talking about, it twists his appearance with horror and shock. The man looks like his sense of reality was devastated before his eyes, and now from this point, nothing in his life will ever make sense again.

“Oh dang, she was cheating on him!” Sam whistles inappropriately as she states her assumption.

‘We don’t know that for sure. These paintings tell a very vague story, and they’re all from Pimpington’s point of view. I’d wager there might be a bias at work.’ Zutiria tilts her head and thinks aloud to herself.

In the second painting, the knight brutally stabs the old man a disturbing number of times with his sword. Blood erupts from the many holes as the receptionist watches on in terror. Despite her protests, Chasteworthe doesn’t stop his brutality. His eyes are overtaken by a creeping and sunken darkness.

“Woah!” Sam inappropriately gapes at the violence, seeming more than pleased for whatever reason.

For the last of this row, Chasteworthe is being led away from the crime scene by city guards with his head hung low. This arrest seems to be voluntary, as the murderer isn’t putting up any struggle. Chasteworthe’s countless admirers look upon him with sadness and disbelief, including a devastated Lemira and Rhaelyn depicted in the foreground. The two future henchwomen cry out and extend their hands towards him, but he ignores them and chooses to stare at the floor.

“H-He killed that man...!” Meri bites her lip as her empathy kicks into overdrive. “I-I guess that woman really WAS cheating on him! Oh, Gods...!”

‘That seems to be the simplest answer- which would fit the running theme of this dungeon.’ Zutiria remarks while adjusting the rim of her large, round glasses. She inspects the oil paintings’ intricate details, trying to unravel every last mystery they have to solve.

“I mean, yeah, it kinda sucks, but if he didn’t wanna get cucked, then the dude shoulda had better taste in women!” Sam laughs vacantly, staring at the victim riddled with holes like it was hilarious. She looks rather creepy while doing this, and I’m not the only one who thinks so...

I don’t say anything in response, merely continuing to observing the artwork on display. But then Snow taps my shoulder, drawing my attention to her oncoming question. “You’re not convinced by any of this, are you? Just because the puzzles in the Pimpfort have all had easy solutions doesn’t necessarily mean that everything should be taken exactly at face value, nyaa...”

All I can do is sigh and repeat myself. “Again, I don’t see why that would matter. All this is irrelevant to defeating Pimpington, but while we have the time, we might as well indulge in what the dungeon seems so desperate to show us.” It’s not that I’m uninterested, per se. I’m just more anxious about the party battling him than anything else.

Peri has a different take on the situation, saying, “He’s shady, nyaa. Gotta make sure to learn all we can, never know what might help defeat him.”

“Sure, but Myaster’s got a point, too. You don’t gotta know someone’s life story to kick them in the balls.” Cherry crosses her arms in annoyance.

“That’s true. Still, I suppose I just admittedly find myself interested in what would corrupt someone who seemed to be a shining paragon of chivalry, nyaa...” Snow nods her head, and together we turn our attention to the second row of paintings. Without a doubt, it’s for sure a direct continuation of the events from the last row.

The first artwork displays Chasteworthe walking away defeated from a large mansion. The background clearly depicts the many keeps and castles of Imperalis, with Castle Lundreame itself towering over them all in the far-off distance. Watching him go from the mansion’s gate is a collection of over-dressed nobles vaguely resembling Chasteworthe, sharing his same sharp face and luxuriously curled black hair. He’s wearing extremely simple clothes, like that of a peasant. All the man has to his name is his rose rapier and a small, measly bag of gold strapped to his unimpressive belt.

‘His family disowned him. It must have been quite a scandal at the time. Ring any bells, Sammy?’ Zutiria comes to the same conclusion that I did.

“Nope! Why, should it?” Sam predictably has no idea what’s going on, judging by her ‘nobody’s home’ smile and her dilated pupils.

“O-Oh, dear. This next painting is, um...” Meri blushes and covers her mouth, drawing all of our attention to the next piece of art.

Sir Chasteworthe sits naked on a bed in a seedy, run-down brothel, surrounded by four beautiful women. Each one performs sexual favors on him, and his face is peaceful, happy, yet distant. The disgraced knight feels false happiness from his false pleasures. Interestingly, the one currently riding him has her tongue sticking out, and on top of it is an uneaten cherry.

“Look, it’s you,” Peri purrs, pointing at the screen as Cherry rolls her eyes. Something tells me this isn’t the first time Peri has tried this joke.

“That just leaves one last painting, then...” Snow rubs her chin, and I can see she’s more into this than she originally was. I guess knowing that her tribe sisters are safe until further notice has given the older maid sufficient time to properly appreciate pimp lore.

Finally, we all inspect the last painting in the second row.

The man that was Sir Chasteworthe has died, and depicted in this final illustration is the birth of a pimp. The man leaves the four prostitutes behind him in a sex coma, and from the coathanger outside the door, he steals a shabby-looking pimp coat and pulls his first pimp hat over his head. This stolen outfit is a far cry from the standard outfit we’ve seen him wearing in the modern-day, being much less gaudy in comparison.

I suppose everyone has to start somewhere.

‘And thus, a pimp was born. Like a degenerate phoenix rising from the ashes.’ Zutiria declares with mock enthusiasm. ‘Is this the part where we all puzzle out the exact timeline of events and make our definitive guess as to what exactly happened in this sad, pathetic man’s life story?’

“No. It’s time to get ready to collect the boss keys from the two remaining rooms. We’re almost to the end, and you all have to stay alert. There’s no telling what dangers are left in this dungeon.”

“Daddy is too cool for pimplore,” Sam teases, sticking her tongue out at me through the display. Everyone has a good chuckle at her words, causing me to sigh.

“We’re going to be tying him up and capturing him, so we can ask him ourselves later. Would that make you all happy?”

“W-Wait is that our plan...? I was kinda wondering about that.” Meri tilts her head and raises her hand. “It’s not like the city guards will put him in jail if we hand him over, r-right? The Duke is in control and wouldn’t let that happen...”

‘They’d put him right back on the streets within minutes. I suppose now is as good a time as any to figure out what will be the actual course of action we’ll take.’

“Adventurers aren’t assassins,” Sam mimics my words like a parrot. “We gotta do this right, or Daddy will get mad at us and not in a good way!”

“Yes, Sam. I would certainly not feel like spanking you if you murdered a man in cold blood.” She giggles as I chide her with sarcasm, not getting the joke.

“I’m still considering our options,” I admit. There’s not much we can do with a captured pawn of the Duke, after all. Even if I was ok with just killing Pimpington on the spot, which I’m not, we’d risk intel we could gain through interrogating him.

Worst case scenario, I’ll have Zutiria warp to Dawnstead tomorrow so she can bring Opal home early, and then we’ll see if Lord Gloomcrest would take the criminal into custody.

I explain all these thoughts to the girls, and I face no objections. Snow ends up offering one more suggestion, but it’s one I’m not too keen on. “If there are no other options, the breeding tribe can take him into custody as a prisoner. We deal with the Royal Family itself and could take him to the King’s Court-

“That’s my asshole real dad!” Sam gasps like a child hearing a naughty word.

“Yes, yes, Mistress,” Snow continues on as if the Princess never interjected. “I would prefer if you had a better alternative, as we’d be making an open target of ourselves on the road, nyaa.”

“Well, I think we have more than enough to consider for the moment. For now, let’s hunker down and get going. We’re almost there, girls. Two rooms and two keys. You ready for this?”

“Heck yeah!” Sam smiles a vacant smile, dashing off towards the door to the north.

‘Looks like we have our door,’ Zutiria shrugs while following after the Princess.

Meri joins them as well, yawning, “Don’t worry, girls... we’re almost here... we’ll save you...”

The northern door opens as soon as Sam hits the button, and the final stretch of the Pimpfort begins.