A little kid comes up to him with a plate. On the plate are beef jerky and a baked potato, plus some mediocre local foraged fruit.

"Are you gonna make monsters now?" The kid asks. "My mom says dungeons have monsters."

"Hmm? You know, if I do, you'll be the first to know."

What is the deal with monsters anyway? Why are murder-gauntlets a thing? The first thought is 'defenses for his private rooms', so no fellow mage can kill him and take over the core for themselves. But that doesn't explain it. Covehold Demesne had four or five murder-hallways, which people actually had to sign up for opportunities to enter. They leave with meat and claws and leather and all the other things that animals make, and sell them to butchers and other craft industries.

What features of magic, he wonders, makes that make sense? Makes it the ideal shape of things?

Can monsters like that only be made hostile? No docile cow ready for slaughter, but an uncontrollable mass of malignant magic? Why not have the dungeon binder kill them himself, then? Is it not possible? Does the process of people murdering them generate some sort of resource for the dungeon binder?

He has no idea. And within a few weeks, he's going to have to figure it out. Dungeon runs are a lot of places' primary source of meat.

He gets back to work in order to feel productive. Excavating large sections of stone underground piling it up outsude for use later. (And telling peolle to stop blocking the way!) Making the cave smoother and larger. Adding ventilation shafts. He dispatches someone to map the area, and someone else to salvaging what can be salvaged.

And then suddenly there's a lot of screaming and yelling. Over, apparently, the remains of a ruined boat.