by J. T. Wright
“I didn’t like your brother,” Trent said casually. In a confused room filled with the scent of fear and sweat, he stood easy, his steady voice a clear contrast to Kerry’s wobbling one. “I don’t think I like these two either.”
“You’re a cocky one, aren’t you?” Kosey took a good look at Trent. His armor was better than rookies usually wore, and his weapons had an aura of violence around them. The three other kids were saplings, but this Warrior was too relaxed to be discounted. “Think your numbers will help? Should have walked away before the girl drew you in.”
“We don’t have any reason to fight that I can see.” Trent shrugged. At his feet Dreq began to growl. “We shouldn’t fight here. It’s wrong, but if the Archer draws his bowstring, I'll kill him first.”
Kosey lived his life as a member of a chartered company in the Wilds. He came to the settled areas of the Kingdom to find fresh blood to bolster his company’s numbers in the unending struggle to hold territory. He looked down on Adventurers who farmed Dungeons for the Kingdom’s Nobles. The best of them were soft metal in his book.
He had lied to Eliora about his Class and Level. He was a Level 35, split between Tracker and Vanguard. In Bellrise, he expected to have no equals except for a few of the older Guardsmen. He could have cleared this Dungeon by himself and had only brought Eliora along on a whim, a vague sense that she was worth recruiting.
“How did you get ahead of us anyway?” Kosey asked, mostly to buy himself time to think and settle the itch of danger that crept up his back. “Must have been moving fast. Who brings a Dog into a Dungeon?”
Had Trent looked down at the mention of Dreq, Kosey would have slashed at him. Instead, Trent’s hands settled on his hilts, and he stepped forward. “You'll be a little tougher than the Archer. He'll die quick. He'll lose a hand if he keeps tugging his string like that.”
Mark snatched his left hand away from his weapon, his arrow dissipating as the Mana which created it was cut off. Kosey slapped the younger man’s chest with the back of his hand in irritation, almost pricking the Archer’s chin with the dagger he held. Mark had been with the company for three years. He had faced worse than a town-bound Adventurer. He shouldn’t be intimidated by the Swordsman.
Kosey tried to make his chuckle light, to keep the anger and tension he was feeling hidden but failed. “You convinced me. You and your friends can walk out of here. The girl stays.”
An Adventurer faced their own problems in a Dungeon. There were no laws, no expectation to offer aid. Eliora could see her help vanishing with Kosey’s words. “He wants this gem. It’s yours if you stand with me!”
She tossed the grey sphere to Trent, who caught it without looking. Kosey followed the round bauble with his eyes, his face darkening.
“Alright,” he conceded, “you toss me the gem, keep the girl. We all walk away.”
“This?” Trent rolled the item in question between his fingers. “You leave, and I'll hand it to your friend. You need a Return Scroll?”
“I'm not leaving without that gem!”
Never turn your back to pick up a dropped weapon, and never give up your weapon because an enemy tells you to. Trent was fairly certain that was the principle Cullen would apply to this situation. Once the gem was in Kosey’s hands, the man would be free to act as he pleased. Fear of Eliora, and now Trent, escaping with his prize was all that kept the older man talking.
“Then we fight, the Archer dies, the Safe Zone’s protection goes away, and a hundred Beasts attack us all at once. Are you ready?” Trent put the gem in his pouch and drew his swords. He would have attacked right away if they had been farther into the fourth floor. He hated talking like this. The Safe Zone was all that held him in place. He wouldn’t break the peace first.
The veins on Kosey’s forehead bulged, his knuckles whitened, they gripped his weapons so fiercely.
“Hundreds from this floor. Hundreds more from the third,” Kerry gulped, and his shield shimmered into place in his arm. “We’re right in the middle. They won’t take long to reach us.”
“Shut your fat face, lard ass!” Kosey shouted, pointing his sword in Kerry’s direction. It was an impotent gesture and he knew it.
“Back up, we're leaving,” he hissed at Mark. Backing into the dark, he cast one threat as he sheathed his weapons and took out a Scroll. “This isn’t over, boy! You want to live through the next time, you'd better be ready to hand it to me.”
Eliora held her breath until the glare of magic from a return scroll being used faded. Even then, she eased her way around for a better view, confirming the tunnel was empty before exhaling and slumping to the ground.
“I'm not fat!” Kerry called at the unoccupied tunnel. “Tell them I'm not fat, Felicia!”
“They’re gone, Kerry. Don’t worry, I'm sure with a couple a of level-ups that baby pudge will go away.” Felicia turned away from Kerry’s indignant scoffing to address Eliora. “You set us up!”
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to die,” Eliora said weakly. “Thank you, though. Especially you, Trent Embra. I don’t suppose you’ll sell me that cowl now?”
“No, it’s not for sale.” Trent tugged at his mask. “Your name is Eliora Al—"
“Raven! I'm going by Raven now,” Eliora hurriedly kept him from saying her full name. If she thought exposing her identity would keep her safe, she would have used it to hold off Kosey. The fact was, Royalty was not universally loved. Her Guards were far away, and without them her name could bring more trouble than it would solve.
“It would be better to go by Eliora.” Felicia clicked her tongue. “Raven is overused. It’s practically a cliché.”
“It’s what I chose.” Eliora tossed her head, irritated by Felicia’s attitude “How are you called?”
“She’s Felicia Ithruen.” Kerry’s hand settled on his friend’s shoulder. “But everyone calls her the Ivy Witch.”
Kerry grunted as Felicia’s elbow found a hole in his armor.
“No one calls me that,” she hissed. “But everyone I meet from now on is going to call you Kerry Moss, the Lard Wall.”
“I thought it was a good nickname,” Kerry grumbled, rubbing his side. “Ivy and Moss. We will call Trent the Dark Rose and our party, Brambles and Thorns. Why lard? Why does that word keep coming up?”
“The Dark Rose?” Felicia’s jaw dropped. “Why would we call Trent that? It’s ridiculous!”
“His shirt, you saw the shirt, right?” Kerry gestured towards Trent’s arms. “We will have to get him more, but he knows a girl that will embroider them for him. It can be our signature. Or hey! Sewing is your thing, right? You can do it!”
“Excuse me,” Eliora said, before Felicia could build up the steam to tell Kerry exactly what she thought of that idea. “You three are a party? A permanent one? Do you have a charter?”
“No charters!” Kerry said, venom dripping from his tongue. “But, yeah, we are. There’s four of us, though, can’t discount Dreq.”
Dreq’s tail wagged happily until Eliora said, “You count the Dog? But you think I’m silly because I go by Raven?” It was at that moment that Dreq’s ire moved away from Kerry and settled on the silver-haired girl.
“People who pick teammates that turn on them shouldn’t judge,” Felicia sniffed.
Eliora laughed, leaning back and crossing her fingers behind her head. “That’s fair. It was the rush to clear a new Dungeon. Blinded me. I should have known better. Are you all students at the Academy?”
“She and I were.” Kerry rolled his shoulders. “I think we’ve missed the deadline for the new term. Not that it matters, I suppose.”
“Why’s that? What are your plans?”
No answer. Felicia and Kerry turned to look at Trent. Trent looked back and scratched his jaw.
Eliora saw it all and smiled to herself. Here was her chance. Two Warriors and a Mage. They needed a Rogue. More than that, they needed direction. They might not accept her lead right away, but with a few suggestions t
o break the ice, they would fall into line.
Trent would be the deciding factor. She realized it was his presence that drove off Kosey, and Trent that the others looked too. He clearly was uncomfortable holding the reins. They should slip out of his hands and into hers with a light tug.
“Haven’t decided yet?” She purred, “Why don’t you let me treat you to a meal? Is there a good restaurant in town? I haven’t had a chance to explore yet. Unless you intend to keep delving.”
“A meal would be good.” Felicia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Kerry shuffled his feet, pushing his flail into his belt. “We were talking about going back.”
Trent shrugged. His blood still boiled from the confrontation. He looked down at Dreq and the Dog yawned back at him.
“It’s settled then!” Eliora clapped her hands and surged to her feet. “The finest restaurant in town! My treat!”
That was her in. Money was not something she lacked. All Adventurers getting started needed a sponsor. The state of Kerry’s armor demonstrated that. From sponsor and teammate, it was a short step to leader.
Trent would probably be grateful when she took over. He seemed shy.
**********
“I said the finest restaurant.” Eliora dragged her heels as Kerry led the way into the Guildhall, “Money is no object.”
“That's why we’re here,” Kerry said over his shoulder. “We would head to the Pig for stew on the cheap. I don’t think any of the inns have food this time of day.”
“The Guild is the only place with a menu in Bellrise,” Felicia explained, a little more familiar with what was bothering Eliora. “Everywhere else, you eat what they serve, and they serve at specific times.”
“That’s strange for a Dungeon town, isn’t it?” Eliora had to raise her voice to be heard over the din in the hall. “Adventurers keep their own schedule.”
“Not in Bellrise,” Felicia called back. “Here, the Academy sets the pace, and students are studying, not eating, this time of day.”
“There you are, Meat! I was beginning to think you had died. Another day and I’d have written you off as crow bait.”
“Or they should be,” Felicia muttered too low to be heard. “What is this jackass doing here?”
“Why aren’t you at the Academy?” Kerry was at a loss to suddenly be confronted by a face he knew he would have to see soon. Soon but not right now! He wasn’t prepared yet!
Although the room was too crowded to swagger properly, somehow the young man with the longsword at his hip managed, pushing through where he could and sidestepping around those men who shouldn’t be offended.
Trent, standing just behind Kerry, felt his hands twitch to his swords at the Warrior’s shouted greeting. Another person would have assumed the words were spoken in jest. They would have seen the bright smile on the black-haired Warrior’s face and thought he was speaking to a friend.
Trent was different. Trent listened. He heard the contempt and arrogance beneath the words. They caused his hand to curl into a fist. He didn’t need an introduction to know this was Jace, the leader of Kerry’s chartered party.
“What happened to your armor?” Jace sauntered in front of Kerry and took in the state of his equipment. “Have you been falling down again? Do you know how much it’s going to cost to repair… to replace that plate?”
“What do you care?” Kerry’s eyes glowered sullenly at Jace’s reproach. “I pay for my own equipment. It won’t cost you anything.”
“I care,” Jace said, poking at a rent in Kerry’s breastplate, “because we have a reservation to enter the Dungeon tomorrow at noon. If you can’t get it replaced by then, you’ll hold up the party. I won’t have that, Meat. They say the Dungeon is paying silver! You will go in naked before I let you hold us up.”
“And what’s this?” Jace slapped the ball of Kerry’s flail where it hung at his waist. “Did you waste money on a mace? Your job is to draw aggro and take hits. What do you need a mace for?”
Trent missed Kerry’s explanation that his weapon wasn’t a mace. His mind was buzzing with a remembered memory. He was looking at an open field from atop a wagon bed, and behind him, Senior Guardsmen were talking while Recruits tried to sleep.
Cullen said Trent listened too well. He listened and remembered. It was hard to fault him for it, but it had caused problems in the past. Trent could not hear Kerry now because his ears were full of Cullen telling a story, or as Trent understood it, imparting lessons to the Guardsman.
“You’ve all seen the kind of face I’m talking about. It’s the type that screams for a punch the way a parched man begs for water. Personally, I’ve never been one to deny a thirsty man a drink. A good man never holds out when another is in need. Laid the bastard out flat…”
Trent was overjoyed to finally see an example of the type of face Cullen had been talking about. He had been afraid he would miss it if he ever encountered it because Cullen had been sparse on what the man looked like. Trent assumed he had left out the details because Cullen had been talking to Senior Guardsmen after all. They were experienced men who didn’t need things spelled out for them like Trent did.
Fortunately for Jace, Felicia was nearly as good at observing as Trent was at listening. She caught Trent’s wrist before he could draw back his arm.
“This isn’t the Dungeon.” She leaned in and put her mouth next to Trent’s ear. “Not saying he doesn’t deserve it… just not in town. Not where Guardsmen can see, at least.”
Trent nodded and relaxed his fist. “Got it. This is an in the dark, from behind, with a stick so you don’t get scum on your hands, situation. Thank you,” Trent whispered back to Felicia.
He patted the hand that held his sleeve gratefully. He shot a glance at the green orb on the Questing Pillar. He had almost broken the truce. It had seemed like the right thing to do, and it was, according to the doctrine of Cullen that Trent strove to live his life by. It was good to have clarification on an aspect where doctrine parted from decent rules of the hunt.
Felicia wasn’t sure why she was being thanked. She kept hold of Trent’s wrist but soon it was to restrain the slap she wanted to unleash. She had never liked Jace. Knowing what she knew now, and hearing him berate Kerry, he became more despicable by the moment.
“Get rid of it. Sell it and donate the money to the group purse.” Jace rubbed his face with both hands, the picture of a frustrated mentor dealing with an idiotic student. “The last thing we need is you swinging a flail in tight quarters. You are more likely to hit us than a Beast. Stick to what you are good at. Think meaty thoughts and stand still.”
Felicia couldn’t take it anymore. “Is this how your party leader talks to all his team, Kerry? I don’t know that I want to read the charter, much less sign it, if that’s the case.
She emphasized the word charter to remind Kerry why he had been nervously tapping the pouch, which held three gold, ever since they had left the Dungeon. Kerry’s head jerked, and the edges of his mouth twitched at the thought of slamming those circles of gold on the table and watching Jace’s smug face fall. Kerry didn’t actually break into a grin, though. Jace might be losing a meat shield, but three gold were sure to buy plenty of consolation.
Kerry would miss the coins. He had fought hard not to grow attached. He had known naming them was a mistake. He was going to hate seeing Yellow, Shiny, and Precious in Jace’s grubby mitts. He hoped they would understand and that Jace would trade them to a worthy owner soon.
“You want to join my party, Felicia?” Jace peered over Kerry’s shoulder, his expression blank. The sight of Felicia without her customary floppy hat, a rare thing in the Academy, brought a gleam to his eye. Many young Adventurers had tried to catch the half-elf unguarded. It was a face worth looking at.
“Holly won’t like it, but I can bring her around.” The charm was back. Jace was smooth smiles and gracious words as he stepped around Kerry. “Are these two with you as well? Kerry said he had found someo
ne with Detect Traps. We can use a spotter. I was only expecting one, though.”
“We are, and we both have the Skill.” Eliora took the chance to connect herself more closely to the group she was trying to join. It didn’t take sixteen years of royal intrigue to see the undercurrents at play, or to recognize that Felicia was too forthright to spar with this Warrior.
“Raven,” she introduced herself, “and this is Trent. You lead a chartered party. May we see the terms?”
“Of course.” To Jace’s credit, he didn’t stare into Eliora’s hood long. A single glance upon hearing her voice was all he allowed himself. “I’m here checking for new Quests. The others are holding a table at the Pig. Shall we join them?”
“The Pig? That’s a tavern. I imagine it’s noisy this time of day,” Eliora countered, ignoring the swirling chaos in the Guild. ”And the light is probably poor as well, yes? It’s a simple signature. We can borrow the corner of a counter to sign. Cleaner signatures that way.”
She hooked her arm through Jace’s and led the unresisting Warrior towards the Guild Attendant’s station. There was no way she would sign another person’s charter, but given what she had seen so far, neither would Felicia or Trent.
“You do have the charter with you, right?” Eliora slid a copper to a disapproving Guild Attendant who did not appreciate her commandeering his section of the counter. The man frowned at the coin but didn’t chase her away and slipped the copper out of sight with a sniff.
It was an art, one Eliora was good at. She implied with tone and body language that a responsible leader would never let an important document get far from his control. Jace responded to the tilt of her head and the lilt of her voice by reaching into his belt pouch and removing a much-folded bundle of papers.
“I always have it with me.” Jace smoothed the papers out and flipped to the last page. Four signatures and a circular drawing at the bottom were all the paper contained. Eliora began to get a picture of what was going on by watching the hurried way Jace concealed the particulars of the charter. How bad were the terms that they had to be hidden?
