Roland’s POV

  From a few yards away, Roland suppressed a yawn as he watched the team that had hired him and Lyra listen dubiously to the stranger. He was telling them about the building they could see in the distance, pointing out that there would likely be a boat or a ferry beyond it that they might be able to use. While Silas was leery of crossing the body of water, he ended up nodding after taking a quick look at the state of his team, at which point he took Theron with him and went ahead to check.

  Roland pressed his lips in a line as he watched the two warriors walking away toward the structure. The Warden was prioritizing speed over safety.

  Tapping his fingers on his knees, he reached for his refilled water-skin and drank. For a lake this wide, usually the call was to turn back and find another path through. Because who came down equipped to traverse bodies of water? That might be a requirement for some deeper floors, but not for the first five. Sure, sometimes a boat wasn’t necessary. On occasion, one might find a way to cheat their way through. Whether by climbing the side walls or icing the water—if a Seeker had that sort of juice within them. But they had neither. And who knew what might be lurking down there?

  His eyes scanned the placid surface before flicking toward the stranger who was putting his table back in storage. Roland swallowed as he saw the table disappear into a satchel that was much too small for it.

  A Skill? An enchanted item? Whichever it was, it marked the stranger as either ungodly rich or high-tier. But considering he was alone down here, Roland guessed it was the latter. Would he protect them if something went wrong in the crossing?

  His eyes flicked toward the Warden in the distance. Maybe they wouldn’t find a boat? With no boat, they’d be forced to head back and find a safer way through. Which would have the unfortunate consequence of making their journey even longer.

  “Shit!”

  Lyra’s cursing snapped him out of his worrying and he turned just in time to see her angrily shove her empty bag away from her while she examined her bleeding finger. The side of the bag was open, the patch which she had sewn in a few days prior had come undone again, revealing the shredded canvas below and in her attempt to push the needle through the tough layers of textile, she had stabbed herself pretty hard.

  Wincing, Roland turned his attention away from the team and the stranger and dug through his own half-open backpack, rummaging for a short moment until his finger made contact with the leather-bound med-kit.

  “Sorry. It’s not that bad,” Lyra mumbled as she reached for the bag again. “We don’t need to waste the drops for something this small.”

  Roland just gave her a look and extended a hand, the little vial of deep red liquid already uncapped. “This is this exact kind of stuff we got it for. What’s the point of us buying it if that gets infected?” he said with a nod to her reluctantly extending hand. “Come on, you big baby.”

  “Shut up,” she muttered.

  Roland smiled and got started on cleaning the puncture wound and dressing it up. As he worked, his companion—and fiancée of four months—whispered. “What do you think of that guy? Think he’s trouble?”

  Roland paused, the disinfectant-soaked swab held inches from the wound for a moment before he got back to work. He didn’t look behind, and he kept his face relaxed. No need to worry her with his own paranoia. “I don’t… think so. I think he’s a little beyond us, but we keep doing what we came down here to do. Keep our heads down, get some decent experience under our belts, and level.”

  “And get paid,” she grumbled, wincing as the liquid burned her wound. “So we can replace some of our gear. It’s falling apart.”

  Roland hummed. “That’s the spirit,” he said, putting the swab down and picking up a thin bandage. “The better we get, the faster we’ll get to the 11th or 12th floor, and settle in. Just need to keep steady.”

  Lyra shook her head. “Nope. Not the 12th. We talked about this. It sucks. I don’t want to have to deal with delvers day in and day out.”

  Roland sighed, then finished wrapping her finger. “Worth a shot,” he grumbled in good humor. “We’ll have to work extra hard to be able to afford a home on the 10th, then.”

  Lyra looked down at her finger as she mused. “For a floor that large, you’d think there’d be ample space for people to live down there.”

  “Not enough walled cities to keep everyone safe. It’s still the 10th. Spawning monsters are a thing,” he said, neatly organizing the medkit before wrapping it and storing it again. “But that’s a matter for another day. For now, we keep our heads down ‘til the end of this floor. We’ll be able to restock near the exit. Get some good rest and everything.”

  Lyra sighed, and her voice low, she added. “Yeah. You’re right,” she mumbled. Then glancing beyond him, a small grimaced twisted her delicate features. “They don’t know what they’re doing, Ro.”

  “I know,” he said, stealing a glance around to make sure they weren’t being eavesdropped upon. “But they’re decent. And they’re watching our back.”

  “Not all of ‘em. They only warmed up to us when we gave them some of our own stock. And their Vanguard’s still looking at us weird. What if—”

  They had spoken of this before, but that came with the territory for their job. And while venting to each other was fine, Roland caught the stranger approaching so with a quick look, he gave Lyra a sharp look and she cut herself off before they both turned to see Miles approach. He was smiling at them and when he was a few feet away, he asked.

  “Hey, you two. Mind if I sit with you guys for a minute?”

  Roland was a little taken aback, so he only nodded a beat after the smiling Lyra. While of the two she was usually the grouchier one, of the two of them she had the better negotiating skills so under their neutral gaze, the man just sat down smoothly, legs crossed. “So. How’s your delve going so far? You two are contractors, I’m guessing?”

  Lyra nodded with a friendly smile. “Yes sir. Porters’ Guild. This is our 5th contract.”

  Miles’ brow flew up, and he smiled. “Oh? Porters’ Guild? Which one? You guys are still new, then?”

  “Rivergate’s,” Roland said, eyeing the man curiously. Did he know someone at the guild? Still, both of them nodded, and Lyra asked. “How about you? Are you on a mission or something?”

  Miles held his hand in front of him, palm face down, and wiggled it. “Eh. Sort of? I’m testing something with my Skills. But that’s no big deal,” he said, dropping his head before he waved ahead to the poor excuse of a bag sitting in their midst. “What happened to your bag?”

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  Lyra’s gaze flicked down to the bag and her smile grew a little forced. To Roland, it felt like a distraction from the man. Maybe he didn’t want to divulge his business? Whatever it was, it did work, because Lyra immediately went and recounted how her bag got shredded by a lamprey that must have smelled the provisions they had within, and how her attempts at patching the damage had gone.

  “Man. That sucks. Losing gear in the middle of a delve is always such a hassle,” Miles said as his hand dug into his side pouch. The same pouch that housed the rations he’d offered them and the actual sitting table. Following his arm, Lyra joked. “What? You got a sewing kit on you?”

  Miles laughed. “Oh you don’t want me to try and sew that together. I suck. I might even do more damage in my attempt to fix it. But I got something like it. I got spares,” he said with a wink and from his storage came out a pristine canvas and leather bag.

  Roland’s breath caught in his throat while the scent of leather filled his nose. It had never been used, he believed. But that wasn’t what shocked him the most.

  It was the little glyphs that lined its side.

  Even Lyra was flabbergasted, and her hands trembled toward the extended bag before recoiling as if she’d just put them into the fire.

  “We—we can’t afford this,” she said after a second, looking up at the man before her eyes swiveled back to the enchanted bag.

  Roland would bet it was worth everything they had at their disposal and a little more. Shit. It might even be dangerous for them to carry such an item at this point in their career. Then again, regular delvers didn’t want to get in trouble with the Torchbearers’ guilds. That was a sure way of never being able to hire help for years, if not decades.

  “I’m not selling it. It’s a gift.”

  Lyra swallowed, the words swaying her a little, then shook her head. “Still,” she croaked, her own throat objecting to her attitude. “That’s too much.”

  Miles paused, the bag still held aloft. “There’s no strings attached, guys. This isn’t some ploy or plan or anything. This is just a senior Torchbearer giving two newbies a leg up. But if you’d rather not, I can keep it.”

  Both Roland and Lyra froze, then they shared a disbelieving look before both turned toward Miles.

  “You are?” Roland asked, and without realizing, his eyes went down to the pouch. That made sense he’d invest in a dimensional storage, then. Anyone can use it, but, well, a Vanguard might prioritize a weapon, or a Seeker a magical tome. Torchbearers liked storage spaces.

  Miles grinned, putting the bag on top of the ruined one. “Of course. I just did this a little longer than you guys. So here’s what we’ll do. I’m gonna put this down here, and then you’re gonna pick it up and put your stuff in it. As for your bag, get it to a professional to fix it. I’m sure it can be repaired. I still have mine.”

  “Can I see it?” Lyra asked.

  Miles seemed to hesitate for a second, then nodded. Reaching into his side bag, he rummaged for half a second before pulling out a bag much like Roland’s and Lyra’s. It almost looked like they were of the same make. But while Roland and Lyra were showing signs of use, Miles’s own had gone through hell and back. Most of the damage was patched, but there was no denying the signs. Splotches of blood that had refused to leave the textile marred the bag, along with claw and bite tears, burns, and discolorations. The canvas itself almost looked like regular cotton from how much it had been used. It had lost that toughness one associated with the material, and was just frayed at most edges.

  Before they could look more into it, specifically at a tag near the shoulder straps, the man stowed it back in storage. “Sooo, yeah. I did this job before. Are you guys set when it comes to provisions? Do you need anything?” he asked them, eyes sharp.

  Lyra was still too stunned to respond, and she was gingerly turning her new bag around in her hands so Roland answered. “You gave us plenty. We should be good until we restock at the end of the floor. Thank you. And thank you for the bag.”

  “Yes. The bag. Thank you!” Lyra hastily added as she began exploring the pockets and straps of her new gear. Miles smiled as he saw her turn the bag over and around, then his gaze turned to Roland and he nodded as he got up. “Good stuff. Just let me know if you need anything I can help with before we separate.”

  Roland watched the man for a second, then glancing toward the lake, he saw the duo who had left earlier waving at them from within a ferry-like boat that were rowing toward them. “Um… about that. Do you think crossing the lake is safe? Sir Miles?”

  Miles grimaced. “Just Miles is fine,” the stranger said, and then a sheepish smile pulled on his lips. “And no, it won’t be. But you guys will be safe, so don’t worry.”

  At that, even Lyra stopped messing with her bag and looked up nervously. Seeing their look, Miles laughed. “I promise it’ll be safe. But it’s a good experience for them. Just sit next to me. And ugh…. Wear something you wouldn’t mind getting wet.”

  And before they could protest, he left, heading toward the rest of the team who’d been eyeing them—or the stranger.

  Roland swallowed. So much for keeping their heads down.

  “Ro! Look! It has an enlarged space within!”

  The fear of the lake was completely gone as Lyra went back to explore her new bag.

  It’ll probably be fine, Roland thought as he fussed over the bag along with his companion. If the man could afford to give away something like this, then they were probably fine. If not… well. Roland and Lyra had some emergency measures. Hopefully they wouldn’t be needed.

  ***

  As Miles eyed the boat the two warriors had brought, he knew that while it had certainly seen better days, it wasn’t part of the ruins. It was newer. Someone had used it to cross in the last few years and had left it here. So it could carry them, and he didn’t have to use his canoe to ferry them one or two at a time, so that was nice.

  “You all can swim, right?” he asked as he examined the ship.

  His question made all the fussing around him stop. “Swimming?” Astrid asked, voice wavering a little.

  “We can. But preferably… we wouldn’t?” added Silas. “We might be weighed down by our gear.”

  Miles hummed. “The Dungeon’s not always going to give you the option to prepare or present you with your ideal situation. But if you guys would rather head back where you came from and find another safe path through, you’re welcome to it,” Miles simply said as he hopped in the boat himself, then finding himself a seat, he settled in and smiled at the delvers. “So?”

  He knew he was putting pressure on them and pushing them out of their comfort zone. But what better time was there for them to push themselves safely? With his presence here, nothing bad could happen to them. They had a safety net. But while they couldn’t be sure of it, they had to find their resolve. They had to find the will and motivation to push forward, not to always seek the safest way through.

  That worked sometimes, but not where they were going. All of these early floors were arranged and organized with purpose. The difficult terrain that required you to delve into the dark cracks of the earth of the first floor. This maze of tunnel and drowned ruins that would tire and drain you but where you had to keep going. Then would come the Shattering Depths. Then the Warren.

  There was a pattern, and the pattern was there to prepare them for the tenth floor. For Hazel’s challenge. One needed bravery, resilience, and a deep hunger for power to face the witch of nightmares in her domain. If they turned and left, they might never find it within themselves to face Haver’eth. If they did push themselves now, they might have the mettle it took to break through that first barrier.

  They would have a shot.

  Surprisingly, it was the Seeker who had stepped forward first, before looking at her captain, and when he nodded to her, one by one, they climbed on, with Roland and Lyra silently finding a spot near him before Silas pushed them off of the shore and deeper into the lake.

  In an ideal scenario, the crossing wouldn’t even take twenty minutes. But of course, a body of water this large could hide plenty of things, and not even a couple of minutes in, Miles noted the long, twisting shape snaking below them, and a smile tugged on his lips.

  This should be fun.