The shock from the lightning bolt that tore through Reinhardt’s brain would have likely sat him on his rear, had he still been in his body.

  They had started their run early in the morning, at the equivalent of six a.m. He had died before half an hour had elapsed. 18 hours later, Magdi and Otto were still alive.

  Or they had left the DungeonWhich they had to be alive to do.” Reinhardt wept tears of joy. The relief was immense. He was barely even aware of moving back into position at the edge of the hall. His friends were alive! They would have needed to fight every step of the way as well, so

  For maybe another dozen patrols at least, Reinhardt stared into the middle distance, the happiest he’d ever been. The joy was indescribable. He wouldn’t be able to articulate the relief that Hapthor and Hrilda had their son back - not back, they never lost him! Emmaline would have cried just as much to see Otto walking back into town as she had when he had died - only he had never died, so Emmaline was spared that pain. He was interrupted, quite rudely, from his day dreams when his head snapped to the left. Another visitor! The moment he realised what was happening, he felt another surge of relief. For a brief second he would not be alone. For the rest of the day, his view would be different. Depending on who they were and where they were from, he would at the least have some new ideas and concepts to ponder.

  Such things made a huge difference after five hundred hours staring at the wall.

  They entered the hall on his side, through the door set in the rear wall. Yes, he could see it was ajar. The party dashed through - that was different to Franz’s unhurried approach. It occurred to Reinhardt that running through here alone would make it easier to go from place to place without tripping over each other, slipping through the narrow passages quicker. This group had 4 people, and they were obvious veterans. Two tall Men, one Half-man - a Manngering, and a woman. One of the men had a chain shirt and manica with a small bronze targe across the wrist, wielding a heavy axe. He was bare-headed, and his auburn hair and beard were all cropped to about an inch. The other man wore a thick leather harness and a helmet of a slightly greenish steel. His beard was expansive, billowing out from the bottom of the helmet like an angry blonde cloud. He bore no weapons, but wore gauntlets in the style of a chevalier, the steel bright and shining. The Manngering had a breastplate, sallet and sabotons that all matched. He too bore a small targe, although it was proportionately the same as a scutum to a tall Man. He had a - for the Manngering it was almost a short sword, fashioned from the hilt and first fourteen inches of a heavy-bladed . The woman was clad in reddish leather, except for a set of pauldrons made from a dark metal. Her hands were empty, but she had two gently curving daggers on one hip and a basket-hilt broadsword sheathed on the other. She had a tam o’shanter of a blue-and-green tartan on her auburn curls.

  The Armour piggybacking Reinhardt stepped forward with the others and turned to face the High Table.

  A team from then? Aside from the helmet, their colouration and style of dress and equipment seemed so. They were obviously veteran Delvers who had run this DungeonK , or talked to “local” Delvers for the optimum way to run it. They sprinted up to the table and each grabbed a goblet and a handful of cutlery. The Armours began their march up to the table. In a bit of a surprise, the group didn’t immediately flee. They dashed to the west end of the table and began to loot that too. The halberdiers had reached the High Table, but where one had a clear line, the other had to walk the full length of the table to reach them. The shield knight and the zweihander Reinhardt was riding had to march around the head of their table before they could cross the Hall. He made the decision then to remain silent, so as to not distract them.

  The halberdier swung the polearm around in a vicious slash, but the axeman was more than equal to the task. He bent and twisted with the shield, sending the weapon off course while only absorbing a fraction of the impact. The halberdier took a second to arrest the momentum of his weapon, and that was a second too much. The Bearded Brawler - for that’s what he turned out to be - vaulted the table and smashed his fist into the helmet of the Armour, spinning it further out of line. He landed in a crouch and fired a vicious left hook into the knee of the halberdier. It crashed to the ground on its back, flailing about like a stuck beetle, the leg dislodged from the body. The axeman took a step forward and smacked the helmet with the back of the axe, popping the helmet free. The Bearded Brawler jumped back and streaked toward the passage leading to the West Wing. The woman had chanted a , and suddenly hooked her hand at the axeman, who slid backwards as if dragged by a rope. The Manngering also cast, but he shouted the final cadence of the while pressing a hand shaped in a into the top of his shield. A golden bubble erupted from the shield. As the light passed over each Armour, there was a loud and ringing “Gong!” Reinhardt watched each Armour jerk as if the Half-man had run up and slammed his shield into its head. His own “steed” reeled and had to take a step back to steady itself.

  In the moment it took for the Armours to recover, the party had moved on. Reinhardt grinned to himself. That had been a bit of a show. He remained fixed in place, staring at the door they had just exited by. They had a good dynamic, he decided. The fighters covered each other well, the spellcasters seemed to have good presence of mind and decent utility. The woman had a form of Magic that could reshape the battlefield. The Manngering had an area of effect disruption spell. They had forgone an easy snatch-and-grab to take down an Animated Armour. That was clear. They could have fled immediately, but instead chose to kill one of the defenders. That implied they wanted just as much as they wanted a payday. Reinhardt liked that. He himself had wanted to get to , Essence intensive that very few Humans ever made it. Reinhardt would have had a chance though - he could have been equipped with Essence required to reach

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The Crown may have let him, too. A soldier, even only a mid-TowerHigh Mage Vault TowerDungeonsTowers Tower

  Innate as much as they could -  Innates. There really wasn’t. The casters have had an dealing with the Arcane, but they could have just been naturally gifted, talented or diligent and picked up spellcasting on their own. The Axeman could have had

  He could assume that the Bearded Brawler got a decent Grade Innate? He’d never heard of that particular interaction, but then he had heard of worse. He’d likely not ever know, but he doubted it - the Bearded Brawler had not been moving as though he had his

  He didn’t think, from what he saw, any of the items were had. Involuntarily, Reinhardt’s eyes went to the Armament Composition displayed on the wall. The large round shield was still there, mundane as ever. His eye automatically checked the broadsword. He frowned. He was sure, absolutely certain, that the swirling patterning on the blade was not that pronounced. Completely beyond a doubt - that blade had subtle polished steel and silver swirls, barely distinguishable. Now however, the steel was a dull iron-grey, and the silver swirls were both more pronounced and chaotic. Was it getting ? It was certainly not the same as it was last time. He tried to think of when exactly that was. Measuring days by concepts and cycles by guard rotations was difficult. As the process didn’t affect the room if nothing had been altered, he could only guess as to days but as far as he could tell, maybe a week had passed since he first saw the broadsword.

  The Cycle! This was going to be a treat! He was going to see what happens to an Animated Armour that had been “killed.” His eyes fell on the one-legged, headless suit of plate lying on the ground. Nothing to do but wait…

  Chromatic Grading Scale:

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