She also works for Fantasy OSHA

The Grand Duke of the Infernal slouched lazily upon his throne. He'd been told three hours ago - well, more like signaled, in assorted groaning noises - that there was a living Being inside his palace. And that usually meant an adventurer. The Ghoul Guards had slinked off to their positions in the dining room, clearly not in the mood to have their heads cut off yet again by adventurers assuming they carried keys, and the Grand Duke installed himself once again upon his swiveling throne to greet whoever it was. It'd be a bad look if the dungeon boss wasn't there.

The sound of the great throne-room doors unlatching stood him up straight. The second the door opened, he screamed out, "I have been waiting for you for three hours! What on Earth took you so--" He spotted the familiar spectacled face peeking through the door, and a dainty little hand waving hello. "Why is it YOU again?!"

"Hello again, Grand Duke," replied Emm, the Enigma Eraser, whose robe was now covered in a gaudy yellow vest that he couldn't miss if he tried. "I'm here on business."

"I thought solving puzzles was your business! I followed your accursed guidelines to the letter, don't tell me there's more."

Emm drew out a very large tome, trimmed with yellow-and-black stripes and plenty of clear signage, whose cover was engraved with the text, DSO 4959 - Overworld-Adjacent Dungeon Safety and Hazard Abatement Code - An official document of the Dungeon Standards Office. "Not here for the puzzles this week, Your Lordship. Today I'm here as part of my day job. It helped I already knew the solutions to all your puzzles and where the throne room key was hidden, so I didn't have to mess up how you placed all the mural pieces or anything like that. I'm here for something a lot more important."

"Your liege wants me to step down monster difficulty, is that it? Cease the town raids for a while?"

"Oh, no, nothing so immediate as that. But we're talking about code violations that have much longer-reaching consequences if left unchecked. I've dog-eared the relevant pages of the safety code for your perusal..."

The skeletal Duke waved a dismissive, bony hand over his eyeless face. "Reading all of that nonsense is beneath me."

"Did you know you have an airborne pathogen spreading around the palace grounds?" Emm asked pointedly. "An unauthorized one?"

"Bah! What do you expect me to do? Write my Senator every time I want to include a poison trap in the floor plan?"

"If you'd followed Code, you wouldn't need to," Emm explained, flipping to page one thousand, five hundred forty two of her tome. "Article 15, section 2, subheading ZG05. 'Airborne pathogens, intentionally placed by Dungeon Bosses, with a lifetime of more than one Long Rest, must be designed to become harmless upon Dungeon's exit.'"

"It defeats the purpose of disease if it can just be made to go away!" The Duke pounded a fist against the arm rest of his throne; owing to the lack of body mass on said fist, the noise was more like a hollow clack than the thunderous boom he'd hoped for.

"Ever heard of Corrupted Blood? Millions of lives lost because Hakkar's disease operated under unsafe circumstances. He's the reason these codes were written."

"Hakkar was a fool. A damned fool." I would not have stopped with millions, the Duke did not say.

"I mean, look, Your Lordship, I don't enjoy being the one to come back here to lecture you about how you run your Dungeon. But that's just one of at least thirty other Dungeon Code violations I've spotted, just today. If you don't get these fixed, the Queen may see fit to revoke your Dungeoneer's License and have your palace taken down."

"Let her send her armies at me, I will be prepared."

"I don't mean by the army. I mean by lawsuits, by fines, by condemnation and foreclosure. It could lead to gaol time. It could mean your Ghoul Guards would lose their jobs and their livelihoods. Er...their deathlihoods."

The Duke bent over, elbows on his knees, and rested his skull against his interlocked fingers. He said nothing, merely grumbled under his necrotic breath.

Emm tore the carbon-copy parchment from beneath the top sheet of the clipboard affixed to her tome and presented it as if it were a business card. "Look. Get it fixed, and we'll leave you alone."

He gingerly accepted the thin, yellow leaf of paper, with its thirty bullet points outlined in writing so neat and clean that... no, there's no way she could have carried an entire printing-press down here. Maybe that's another one of her accursed talents.