The wind blew against the sloping roofs of the city. It brought with it the chill that came before the winter months. It was already midnight in the city of Arenhein, and not a soul can be seen walking down its dark and empty streets. The great city was illuminated only by the twinkling stars and the silver moon that looked down on it. There were only a few buildings that had candlelight coming out of them, but none were as bright as the ones that came from a certain guild.

Within that room sat only five people. Three of them were children no older than fifteen, a man who tells himself that he’s still in his prime, and a girl that could be considered the man’s grandmother due to her age. On their laps are a deck of wooden cards and plastered onto the face of the Low-Elf holding a deck of cards is a wide grin as she slammed her hand onto the table.

“I’on!”

“Gods damn it!”

Stefan groaned loudly as he looked at the five symbols carved into the thin wood in front of him. It was two Elves, a sword, and a pair of stars. He glared at his hand, which consisted of four Grand Oaks and a salmon before he tossed his cards onto the pile. Luck was his strong suit, but when it comes to childish games like this…

"I win! I win! Y’all owe me a truth!”

“Fuck off, Sem. It’s just a child’s game. It’s not supposed to have some catch like that.”

“Okay, loser. Go sulk in the corner over there and leave us be.”

Stefan sighed and whipped out his flask from beneath his cloak before he left his spot on the sibling’s bed. He grumbled for a moment and stared at the parchment on the table.

They have toiled on it for hours now and it was the reason why they were taking a break. It was something Stefan loved doing, but not like this. He loved sorting and drawing maps, but having to fill out one as large as the parchment that took up most of the table is exhausting. Stefan couldn’t help but wonder to himself how much lives were lost just to map out the sections displayed on the map. He glanced over at the still-wet ink on the map and sighed.

Liam told them that someone was coming to meet them before he dumped the work meant for receptionists onto them. Stefan sighed once again at the thought of that damned Guildmaster and the look on his face after he shoved the maps and records onto his hands earlier. At least he had his three teammates with him to help with the task, although they weren’t that much of a help since their memories are as good as an Orc. Which is to say, not that great.

He was about to sit down and drink his liquor when a soft knocking interrupted him. Immediately, he heard the shuffling of wooden cards behind him and he knew that he needed to answer the door. A tired groan left his lips and he dragged his feet across the rough wooden floor of the room and towards the large door that was currently locked tightly. There was another knocking just as Stefan unlocked the door for their late-night guest.

“Come i-“

“Good evening. Orien, Ameera, pleased to meet the both of you.”

The figure gently but rudely shoved aside the man in front of him and immediately entered the room without any hesitation.

“Master Lho’thrain! G-Good evening to you as well!”

Orien bowed to the tall figure as his eyes scanned the room before him. He scoffed at the sight of Semilia, and the crude cards that she held in her hands.

“Are you three the other adventurers that Azalia talked to me about?”

“Y-Yes. I’m Stefan.”

The figure’s eyes turned towards Stefan as he spoke. The door clicked shut behind them as Stefan stared at the figure’s eyes from beneath his cloak.

“… I see. You must be the leader then? Surely you are since it’s impossible for a Low-Elf and a child to be the leader of a party.”

“What did you say about me?!”

“S-Semilia, I don’t think it’s a good-“

Just as Semilia was about to say something she might regret later, the figure took off the hood of his cloak and looked at the Low-Elf with an expression of utter disappointment.

"I am Lho'thrain. One of the Archmages that oversees the Library of Arenhein. I am a High-Elf, but I renounced that fact long ago when I left Alfheim. Who might you be, Low-Elf?"

"Semilia of the Brownwood Elves."

For a moment, there was a tense silence between them. But it quickly disappeared when both Elves looked away from each other in sheer irritation of one another.

Stefan let out a sigh of relief as he watched the two of them ease up a bit. He could still remember the tavern brawl she had between a High-Elf Mage in Uriesviel and that made him scratch at the scar on his shoulder.

"A-Anyways, I'm the leader of this party and this is our Mage."

"I'm Riel."

Riel didn't even glance up from her shuffling of the cards before she performed some crude tricks with it. Instead of the disgusted look like the one Lho’thraingave Semilia, he just stared at the young Mage with amusement.

"I have been sent here to receive the partial map entrusted to you for its completion. Do you-"

"It's not yet done. But if you want to look, it's on the table over there."

Lho'thrain blinked at Stefan's words and glanced at the table. The parchment he thought was tablecloth was actually the map, but he did not tell that to the rude man beside him as he drank his cheap swill.

"O-Of course. May I?"

"Hmm? Oh, sure. Take a look at it if you want."

Stefan heard the High-Elves silent sigh as he approached the map he has been working on for the past few hours. He added only a handful of new things to it, mostly new routes and markings, and he tidied up the linework of most of the paths. So it wasn't his cleanest work, but he was pretty proud of it.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

He watched silently as the High-Elf silently examined the map. He was impressed with the new information he added to it, although he did have some complaints about the messy linework of the illustrations. Unbeknownst to Stefan, it was Lho'thrain who provided this copy of the quarry that now served as a dungeon, and he was pleased with the Swordsman's work on it.

"Ameera, brew me a cup of tea and fetch me a book you've read. I'll be staying here for a few more hours it seems."

The map is still far from complete, but Gods be damned, it is the most up to date map of the dungeon Lho'thrain has ever seen. Lho'thrain could tell just from the shape of the map the different parts of the quarry from a few thousand years ago and how it was repurposed through the years. He stroked his chin with a fascinated glimmer in his eyes while the empty cup of tea beside him was slowly filled by the young girl beside him.

His eyes flicked to the Low-Elf girl that sat beside the silent adventurer. She did not have the long, arching eyebrows of his kind, she had simple ones like those of Humans. The ears she had were pointed, sure, but they were not as long and elegant as the Elven maidens of the country he once called home. She was definitely a Low-Elf in her looks, and...

"Stefan. I'm out of booze."

Semilia managed to mutter out those words through slurred mumbling and incoherent noises.

"Then but some of your own! Gods damn- Forget it..."

Her mannerisms are definitely that of a Low-Elf. The many bottles beside her made Lho'thrain think that she's cruder than even a Dwarven Warrior. He let out a displeased sigh and looked down at the table and the area of the map he managed to restore.

He was looking at a more or less complete map of the great dungeon and he managed to restore the faded parts of it by simply retracing the faded ink on the parchment. The dungeon was an inverted pyramid with a labyrinth at the center of each floor. The upper floors served to funnel people into the labyrinth's center while the bottom floors were designed for prolonged combat in favor of the defenders. There were hidden passages as well that cut through different areas of the dungeon and in some cases, bypassed entire floors.

He was about to take his leave since he already memorized the features of the map when he heard a soft thud at the other end of the table. The groans of Stefan filled his ears and he looked up to see Semilia passed out and spilling a few drops of ale onto the map. Her snores made Lho'thrain wonder if he really was looking at a member of the opposite sex and he couldn't help but comment at such a sight.

"For an Elf, she doesn't look really Elf-like. Doesn't sound Elf-like either."

Lho'thrain chuckled while Stefan pulled out the book from underneath her head to stop it from getting drooled on. 

"Yeah, well... I didn't really invited her to the party for being an Elf. She's the best Tracker I know, but she's not really the "Elven Maiden" I made her out to be when we first met."

"Hm. If you're looking for Elven girls, you're better off looking for them in Alfheim. Although I would prefer the company of the much more jovial Halflings than another one of my kind."

"You speak as if you're not an Elf yourself, Lho'thrain."

He scoffed at Orien's words as he scanned through one of the books by his side. For a young boy from the countryside, he spoke eloquently unlike his sister.

"I renounced both my kingdom and its nobility before I sailed for Perussian Academy. In the eyes of Alfheim Law, I'm both dead to them and no longer a High-Elf."

"Renounce? What lead to you renouncing Alfheim?"

Lho'thrain stopped his writing as he glanced up at the boy in front of him. He let out a sigh as he placed down his quill on the table.

"The nobility in that damned place are fools. They would rather let an entire city of Merfolk perish instead of aiding them against the pirate fleet that will surely threaten our shores after such an attack. I guess even petty politics can influence the pride of the High-Elves..."

"Really? They would cast out one of their own for such a reason? Shouldn't you be a-"

"A hero? No... That city was responsible for the death of a High-Elf noble long ago after he failed to add their city to his domains. Of course, the people responsible for his death have long since perished, but the grudge of an Elf can last lifetimes and centuries. But how can I stand by and watch as Daegon and Merfolk children are torn away from their parent's arms?"

"So you chose to save the lives of many over the grudges of your own race."

Stefan looked at the High-Elf as his pointy ears perked up slightly.

"I'm a pragmatist, Stefan. That city is known for its Healing Magic and its waters offer travellers safe passage. That's all there is to it."

He let closed the book in his hand and looked down at the things he has written. 

"What a nice book for a child. Anyway, please excuse me. Ameera, Orien, you better rest as well like the young child on your bed. Staying up all night will not do your recovery well."

"Are you going back to the library already?"

"No. I shall rest for a moment before going back to work. Excuse me..."

Lho'thrain closed his eyes as he sat back on his chair. For a moment, everything was silent. Then he began to snore as well.

Stefan sighed as he watched the High-Elf's head slump forwards. Stefan curtly nodded at him as he carefully pushed away the clutter that surrounded him. A heavy yawn left his lips and he pondered about sleeping on the floor when Orien accidentally the small book he was holding. Stefan's hands moved quickly and he immediately caught the quill as it fell. The young boy chuckled nervously as he reached for his quill. His eyes looked at the quill sadly as he held it in his left hand. 

"Not used to your other arm?"

Orien nodded gently at Stefan. His eyes looked at the others to check if they were still awake, and he looked back at the young boy.

"Do you mind if I ask? How... How did you lose your arm, Orien?"

"Oh... Well, I lost it to a trap."

Stefan winced as Orien poked at the empty sleeve on his right. He laughed softly as he flopped it around in the air.

"There were supposed to be four of us. We lost three members immediately after the first attack, including our leader. It was during that dash when I... I stepped on a trap."

"Gods... How did it happen?"

"It was some sort of blade or arrow. I don't really know. I just felt something sharp below my elbow and I heard something make a thud beside me. Next thing I know, Ameera was carrying me while our Healer bandaged my arm. I guess I'm no good with a bow anymore after what happened."

"Bow? So you're an Archer?"

"Was. What good is an Archer with just one arm? "

Orien let out a sad chuckle as he took a look at the spot where his right arm should've been. 

"Ameera lost her eye a few days after I lost my arm. Our Healer died as well after the two of them ran into that Troll. It was the Mage in our team that saved us. Gouged out Ameera's eye with a hot arrow after it got infected. Then we spent a week inside a room while that damn Mage... S-Sorry, I'm sorry."

Orien wiped away the tears in his eyes as he continued to tell their story. Stefan listened closely as the young boy in front of him stifled his tears.

"He didn't tell us that he got wounded. We only noticed when we tried to escape the room. That fucking Mage kept going ahead of us to check for traps and monsters. When we saw that he was getting weaker and paler, he finally told us the damn truth. Gods... I could still remember his mangled leg."

Stefan looked away while Orien cried softly. Snot and tears rolled down his face as he struggled to wipe them away with his hand.

Things like Orien's story isn't uncommon for him. It's a part of every adventurer's life whenever they take up this profession. He was already used to stories of people losing their loved ones in dungeons or entire teams being decimated by monsters. Adding another one to his long list isn't that big of a deal, but the fate of the siblings was different. What made it sad for Stefan is to see such a young boy and his sister experience such a fact of life with their own eyes. 

"S-Sorry... I need to excuse myself for a moment."

Orien stood up as he wiped away the wet tears on his cheeks. Stefan didn't ask where he was going nor did he say any kind words that might soothe him. He simply watched the young man as he walked out of the room and sighed to himself.

"Adventuring sucks..."

He murmured to himself as his vision slowly darkened. The feeling of drowsiness finally took its toll as Stefan placed his head onto the table. The gentle wind that came from the open window lulled him to sleep as it caressed his tired and exhausted face. His eyelids finally closed as the weight over them became unbearable, and he finally gave in to the sleep he had been lacking these past few weeks. 

And he began to dream of his younger days. When he still had the vigor to chase the dangers that lurked in the world around him.