Leigh Loveday

Surprisingly, it’s Dreyer the thief who protests first when you felt sure it would be Oldok, all seven bloodthirsty feet of him.

“An exciting new Dungeon Delvers’ Guild training initiative,” you repeat wretchedly.

“Facilitating a growth mindset?” asks Dreyer, running a stiletto down the scroll. “Regular check-ins on our core priorities?”

“What this part mean here if it say personality type is little red circle?” asks Oldok.

“Structured impact conversations with measurable outcomes,” murmurs Heldra the necromancer. “This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen.” You’re acutely aware that she’s seen sulphurous hellscapes dense with demons gnawing on people’s skulls.

“Well, from today you can’t legally enter the dungeons without doing it.”

“Everything I do is already illegal!” cries Dreyer, throwing up his hands.

The four of them breeze right past. Heldra leaves the scroll on your desk, hissing with a purgatorial contact curse.

It’s fine; sooner or later someone will embrace the opportunities for cross-discipline enrichment.

You poke the scroll onto the floor with a pencil. “Next,” you sigh.