by J. T. Wright
She had been taught that selfish men were easier to control. However, Eliora preferred the Al'dross method. Loyalty and pride were more reliable. It was easy to see and more pleasant to look at. She hadn’t needed to bribe a single person during her travels, and yet the roads were safe, free of bandits and thieves.
She wouldn’t have believed it possible before. Entering any other city in the Al’verren kingdom, unless she was escorted or announced herself, Eliora expected to be extorted or leered at. She would have already prepared a padded entry fee and a cold look to put the soldier in his place.
She did see an appreciating glimmer in the eyes of the gate guards as they waved her through, and they caught sight of toned legs wrapped in molded leather when her cloak parted. However, there were no demands for her to lower her hood for inspection, no creepy whistles or comments, just the shy smiles of young men and the acknowledging nods of their seniors. Tolerable, though not as flattering as the Guardsmen probably thought.
“Can you point out the Guildhall? This is my first time in…” The sensation of the world tilting interrupted the question Eliora put to the Sergeant overseeing the gate. The feeling of stumbling while standing still, of a wind without substance passing through her, caused her to nearly bite down on her tongue.
She wasn’t the only one to feel the twisting of change in the world. The Sergeant’s eyes left her and peered sharply towards a walled compound on a hill at the center of town.
“Guild is straight ahead, through the square. You can’t miss it.” The man’s face was troubled as his head turned back to her. He lifted an arm to point the way. “I imagine it will be swarming with folks soon. Just follow the crowd.”
The Sergeant seemed to recognize what had happened, and Eliora started to question him. He looked away, his body language dismissing her more clearly than words. His eyes were glued to the compound. The compound that had to contain the town’s Dungeon.
That was answer enough. Tugging her cloak around her, Eliora hurried in the direction the Sergeant had indicated, barely holding herself back from breaking into a run. There was no need. Change took time. It would be a few hours before the Dungeon was open again. She had to find a team to enter with before it did. A good team, if possible. She had never imagined she would get the chance at a first clear at a small, established place like this. Eliora didn’t intend to waste the opportunity.
**********
Few in Bellrise had actually experienced a Dungeon change before, but none mistook the disturbance for anything else. Academy classes were immediately canceled for the day. Instructors had no patience for teaching. They rushed to form parties, kicking up dust on their exit and leaving their students bewildered.
Retired and semi-retired Adventurers grabbed up their weapons and pulled on armor that had been tucked away before hustling to the Guildhall. Farmers and merchants who had once been soldiers joined them, abandoning businesses and goods without a second thought. A change meant the chance of a first clear, a life-changing event.
Every first clear was important. For an individual, the first time in a Dungeon would have better drops and more coin. That could not compare to the very first clear of a fresh or new Dungeon, a Dungeon that no one had cleared before. Gold and Skills, Attribute Crystals or Class and Profession slots, perhaps a rare Class, were all possible rewards for the first group to defeat a Guardian. Even those that had no hope of finishing the Dungeon clamored to join in. The first few days of a changed Dungeon would provide huge profits even for those who never saw a Guardian.
Eliora had to push her way through the door of the Guild. Inside, half of Bellrise already packed the limited space. Most lined up at the Questing Pillar or were hammering at the counters, shouting questions at Guild Attendants.
How long till the Dungeon was open? Had a Diviner examined the entrance yet? What were the new Level requirements? The same questions repeated over and over, and no answers were forthcoming. Attendants shouted to be heard, but all they had to say was that they did not know.
Eliora had no idea what the Adventurers expected either. It had only been ten minutes since the change had occurred. She made her way towards the less-packed common area. The Adventurers here were seated at tables making plans in hushed voices.
There was one table open, a round one with five chairs, its availability conspicuous, given how every other seat was taken. It would remain that way. Every Guild common room had a table like it. In the center, approachable from all directions and empty. You would have to be as green as saplings came to sit there. Eliora walked past the table on her way towards the bar.
She caught the sleeve of a harried-looking barmaid, carrying a tray of drinks, before the woman could disappear. “Wine please, and—"
“You'll have to wait!” The barmaid tried to jerk her arm away. “We're busy if you hadn’t noticed!”
“Wine,” Eliora continued, maintaining her hold, “aAnd a candle, green, smelling of roses.”
The barmaid’s look turned pitying. She gave Eliora a sympathetic nod and said, “No wine, shipment from Al’drossford is late. There’s a local cider that might suit you.”
Eliora agreed and the barmaid shook her head as her sleeve was released. Her free hand reached out to pat the cloaked girl’s shoulder before she went to deliver her tray, startling Eliora. Eliora repeated the encounter in her head. She was sure she had not spoken out of line. Why had the woman’s mood changed so much?
Claiming the last open space at the bar, Eliora leaned against it, her elbows brushing the arms of the patrons on either side of her. Neither glanced her way. It was a strange mentality. The center table would be left open as indefensible, but Adventurers would crowd shoulder to shoulder with strangers, all with their backs to the entrance, and no one pointed out how vulnerable that was.
It could be put down to bravado, Eliora supposed. The loudest critics of the shunned table would end up face down drunk on the floor or in a ditch, with no concern for security. Capable Adventurers avoided the seat, not out of fear, but a sense of decorum. The table was empty because it should be, not because they were worried about a knife in the back.
The barmaid set a glass and a candle in front of Eliora and took a few coppers in exchange before disappearing with another light shake of her head. Eliora watched her go with a frown. The woman’s attitude was off; Eliora just couldn’t put her finger on why.
She took a tentative sip of her cider, the crisp apple flavor surprising her with its fresh appeal. She set the glass aside and moved the candle closer. The saucer it was set on was crude, meant for hot cups not catching wax, but the candle itself was a work of art.
A glossy emerald green, bearing the imprints and carvings of bees and flowers, Eliora felt it was a shame to light it. She had seen less impressive works of art prominently displayed in the homes of minor Nobles. It was a wonder the Guild could sell these candles so cheaply. It was probably due to the popularity of enchanted lights replacing candles in everyday use, though that might not hold true. Rarity, as much as the candle’s fine craftsmanship, should drive up the price.
Eliora shook the erroneous thought away. Before she could stop herself, her fingers touched the candle’s wick and she cast Spark. The smell of spring, light and airy, filled the common room. Curious eyes turned her way and Eliora turned her body so the candle would be visible. Eyes went from the flame to her concealed face. Adventurers smirked, and a few snorted before going back to their conversations.
The candle was supposed to draw people in with its welcoming scent. It was a none-verbal invitation and an ancient tradition of the Guild. Contrary to her expectations, Eliora found the space around her opening up as people shifted away from her. Backs were turned as customers huddled over their drinks, making it clear that they would not respond to the invitation.
Not a soul stepped in her direction. The minutes passed, and Eliora kept a hopeful eye peeled. Sniggering Adventurers looked her way, careful not to meet her eye, their disdain in
full view.
Unable to understand what she had done wrong, a blushing Eliora returned back to the bar and buried her face in her drink. Had her instructors been wrong? Had she chosen the wrong color? The wrong scent? What exactly had she announced to the bar?
“Green for open party and equal split? Roses meaning you’ll lead?” The arms that settled on the bar next to her were accompanied by an amused voice. “Pretty bold for a sapling.”
Without directly facing him, Eliora shifted her head, studying the owner of the heavy bass voice out of the corner of one eye. “Who are you calling sapling? My Token is Copper, and my knives are steel. You can inspect either if you'd like.”
She was rather proud of the line, and the clear way she delivered it, even if it contained a small lie. Her Token would be Copper after she completed a few Quests.
The man’s reply was less impressed by Eliora’s statement. “Tough talk. Strange to start a fight when you’re looking for party members, though. You can’t make friends with unfriendly behavior.”
Eliora swirled her half-cup of cider and said noncommittally. “From the looks I've been getting, I thought making friends was out of the question. Is that why you’re here? To make friends?”
“Now that’s whores talk.” Eliora got her first clear look at the man as her hand went for her dagger, and she angled her body towards him. Heavy armor of leather and steel complimented heavier features and a mocking grin.
“No offense, girl,” He held up his hands, not stepping back as Eliora’s knife came half out of her sheath. “Some of my best friends are whores. Just pointing out, the way you’re talkin' makes you look as green as that candle.
“Green, get it, like a sapling.” Two fingers snuffed out the candle’s light as the man continued, “No one lights a green candle or spills blood outside the pit. Not in the Guild. Not if they want to be taken seriously.”
Eliora stared at the man’s weathered face, trying to guess his age. Giving up, she looked towards the smoke drifting off the candlewick. She kept her hand on her knife. “Why have them if they aren’t meant to be used? The guidebooks say—"
“Quoting guidebooks is another way to lower folk’s opinion of you.” The man tipped the candle over with a finger. “Everyone in this room will tell you they can read, but a third are lying. Can’t decipher any written word that’s not printed on their Status, and those words they memorized.”
“That’s an exaggeration.” Eliora grabbed her glass and tossed down the rest of her cider. She pulled her hood farther over her face as she set the glass back down with a thunk. If the unwanted advice from the older man was right, she had made a perfect fool of herself.
“Might be,” the man conceded, motioning to the barmaid for two fresh drinks. “But you might be confusing those that can’t read with those that can’t think, and you would be wrong to do so. Take you, for instance. What’s your name?”
“Raven.” Eliora threw out the name she had decided to go by, watching the man’s reaction.
“Name Raven, wearing a black cloak, carrying four daggers I can see. Assassin?”
Eliora nodded unwillingly. The man’s tone wasn’t judgmental, but there was no approval there either.
“People call me Kosey, cause that’s my name. Never did come up with a fancy handle.” Kosey paused long enough to pay for the drinks and push one towards Eliora. “Now Raven, let me offer you some advice.”
Kosey was patronizing enough that Eliora’s hand settled on her dagger again. The man kept speaking as if he didn’t notice. “One, every person in this room, probably everyone in this town, has a group already. Those that don’t are outside the Dungeon right now, calling out their Class and Level, hoping someone will pick them up. You want to form a temp squad, that’s where you should be looking.
“Only there isn’t much point to that.” Kosey squinted over his cup to make sure he had her attention, and Eliora mentally added ten years to the thirty she decided he had. “No point ‘cause you want to lead. Even if the Dungeon hadn’t just changed, no one’s following a green Copper unless they’re desperate, and you don’t want those types, am I right?”
He was but damned if she had admitted it. Eliora was perfectly still, and Kosey kept talking like she had affirmed his suspicions with a resounding yes. “What I'm thinking is you and I are in similar boats. We’re both in town looking for talent, caught off guard by a Dungeon evolving under our feet.”
“You’re here looking for party members?” Eliora picked up her refilled glass and put it to her lips without drinking.
“Recruiter for a chartered company. Spend half the year here scouting,” Kosey replied. “Level 23 Shield Warrior when I'm working.”
“Are you here alone?” Eliora took a small sip and ignored the obvious hint requesting her own Level information.
“My partner is a Level 17 Marksman. He's holding a spot for us at the Dungeon entrance while I look around for lost souls to join us.” Kosey lifted an eyebrow at her. “What about you?”
“Level 10 Assassin,” Eliora said lightly.
“There’s your problem, Raven.” He only put the slightest emphasis on the name she had chosen for herself. “You need to give trust to get trust, and that was a lie.”
“Level 10 Assassin,” Eliora insisted, her hand tightened on her glass as she begrudgingly added, “And Level 10 Shadow Mage.”
“Impressive,” Kosey whistled, leaning closer, trying to peer into her hood. “Two slots, and 20 Levels. You sound young for it. Not that I’m judging. Don’t suppose you—"
“I'm not looking to sign any charter,” Eliora stepped back from Kosey’s prying eyes though she knew the enchantments in her cloak hid her features.
“Fair enough, but for one delve? I lead.” Kosey’s teeth were white compared to the dark stubble in his chin when he smiled.
“Equal shares?” It was the best offer she was going to get. Eliora didn’t like it, it didn’t match up with her plans, but she hadn’t actually expected to find a stable party the first time she stepped into the Guild at Bellrise.
“Equal split of the coin,” Kosey clarified. “Stones and equipment to those that can use them. Any leftovers sold for coin. You provide your own potions. Fair?”
Fair offer or not, Eliora found herself hesitating. Kosey seemed honest in a gruff kind of way. However, she couldn’t shake her first impression of the man who claimed his best friends were whores. Her nod, when it came, was the smallest tilt of her chin, hardly noticeable in her deep hood.
“Great!” Kosey slapped her shoulder and called for a round. “One more for the road, Raven? Then we got to go. We need to get in line early. The Dungeon is going to fill up fast once it opens. Fortunately, we have a man at the front. Stand a good chance of first clear with our Levels. How’s that strike you?”
One more round turned into three as Kosey outlined his preferred way to approach a Dungeon with the lineup they would have. Eliora stopped drinking after her second glass of cider. Her shoulders loosened as the man talked, and while a touch of unease remained, she put that down to the age difference between them.
Kosey did seem to know what he was talking about. As he drew diagrams on the bar with a finger wet with ale, Eliora started to admire his professionalism. A first clear looked quite likely if they moved as fast as Kosey planned. With a first clear of a changed Dungeon under her belt, the next time she lit a candle in the Guild, it might be her reputation more than the scent that brought people to her table.
Chapter Forty-Four
Frost-covered grass had an odd quality to it. Moonlight was absorbed as much as reflected, coating the forest floor in a shining blanket, sharp underfoot while soft and hazy to the eye. Trent knew that frost would evaporate when warm blood was splashed in it, and the added crimson never froze. By the time the blood stopped steaming, the Moonlit Forest would reset, cleaning up the ruffles of combat and restoring the pristine wilderness.
Trent was standing, not that it mattered. His body re
fused to move, much like it had resisted his commands when he was lying in the stone. His toes would not wiggle in his boots, any more than his neck would rotate to survey his surroundings.
Not even his eyes twitched. The scene they showed him lay directly ahead. A trail in the Forest, a path of brown edged by frosted evergreens, and at the end of the path, a Rat stood on two legs. The Wererat, with glistening fangs, sharp claws, and a whip-like tail which wrapped around its body, stood as if waiting.
Trent experienced a feeling of vertigo. He was drifting upwards, brushing past the branches of trees. His body remained below, as still as ever, but his vision was free to roam. The subtle colors of the Forest became washed-out shades of black and white. The only color left was a vibrant, glowing green, which hung over every living object.
Above the ancient, towering trees, numbers ranging from 2000 to 3000 were displayed in the cheerful color. Above the Wererat, 750 pulsed with gleefully menacing superiority. 630 drifted near Trent’s own head, the smallest number to be seen other than the minuscule 5s and 10s that decorated the grass and bushes.
630 could represent either his Health or Stamina. The two were closely related, difficult to separate. Whichever it was, Trent had always felt he had a respectable amount of both. He had felt that way ever since he had gotten the Survivalist Class. Seeing that the Wererat, the weakest creature in this Forest, had more than he did, Trent was unable to determine where his pride came from.
However, there was no time for reflection. His body began to move. He was watching from above but still felt the Elwire sword in his hands and the way his boots shifted against the earth. The Wererat moved to intercept him, its tail unwinding to be gripped in one misshapen paw.
