It turned out, most groups of adventurers were not only larger than the initial three, but also much less organised, patient and understanding. On a related note, customer service gets much easier when you have a bunch of soldiers nearby ready to shut down anyone getting too far out of line. The fact that Kete helped train most of the newbies also helped most realise that complaining about the valuations or how long things were taking was as far as they could take their displeasure. The smart ones realised grumbling only slowed things down. The truly dumb one upgraded to threats and pulling his axe, only to find half a dozen crossbows levelled at him as a squad of soldiers double-timed it into the space. He’d been unimpressed with Kete and I’s assessment that the rock he found in the dungeon, was just a rock. It could be knapped but wasn’t anything particularly special. Drawing steel for this indignity led to him being taken to the stocks to cool off and reminded what indignity actually looked like.
I’ll admit, I’d underestimated the guards up to that point. They seemed pretty chill, doing what they needed to get through their shift, but as soon as there was a hint of a threat, that whole demeanour shifted instantly. It wasn’t just one or two of them either, it was so coordinated, their numbers seeming to suddenly multiply. I was damn impressed. After that display and a few pointed comments from the soldier in charge (he had a symbol of rank sown on his surcoat, but I had no idea what it meant), the group became much more cooperative.
Not to say all groups were like that by any means. This was a newer dungeon, so it was mostly newer adventurers exploring it. Much of the tension was simply groups not knowing what to expect and not fully appreciating what was expected of them. For every belligerent group there were two who were eager to regale us with the tale of their great adventure. There were also quite a few humorous misadventures, usually caused by underestimating the amount of water needed. One grand multiday adventure was cut short because everyone assumed somebody else was bringing the food. And more than a few had spent a miserable night having not brought a blanket thinking deserts were warm all the time.
There were of course those who returned due to injury as well, but one kindness of the vast desert of the first floor was that it spread out the combat encounters. You might have to travel further for medical aid or to escape, but you were unlikely to get dogpiled. It was part of the reason why the dungeon was getting the reputation of a good place for beginners to learn. It was also why the guild required delvers to have at least one person in their party who demonstrated effective first aid skills before they entered.
I didn’t think I had expectations for what an adventurer party looked like until reality broke them. As odd as the first trio was, in many ways they were closer to what I was expecting than the average group. I’d thought every member of an adventuring party would be, well, adventurers. Able to fight in one way or another and there to do just that. It turned out most groups had at least a few non-combatants (though most of them could fight in a pinch) there to fill a specialised role the group needed. First aid or healing was a common one, but harvesting, cooking, navigation and even just ability to haul around equipment and loot were all valuable skills. During one of the rare lulls, I asked Kete about them.
“Ah, yer talkin’ about the associate members. They’re linked to the guild too, though many o’ the ones ye see here are probationary. They don’t fight but provide support in exchange for a smaller cut o’ the loot. Most parties bring a few since ye lose out on what loot ye can’t carry anyway. Dimensional bags and boxes change things a bit, but they can get damn heavy once they’re loaded up, so ye don’t want to be carrying one if you’re fightin’.”
Unfortunately, duty called once more before I could delve into the topic of dimensional bags and boxes. Enchanted most likely? To the adventurers’ credit they were certainly inventive when it came to trying to get as much loot out as possible, even if it wasn’t always effective. From the group who tried to bring a cart (with predictable results), to the group who tried to save space by attempting to stuff a giant scorpion with a sandshark like some unholy turducken (why I remembered what that is I will never understand). Sleds were both popular and effective, even if some got broken or had to be abandoned. More than once a less prepared group improvised a tent into a similar solution.
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The loot itself was interesting and through the discussions I was beginning to at least build a picture of the relative value of the various types of loot to each other even if I couldn’t yet turn that into a more valuable metric like the value of a good meal. I noticed a record was made if a party chose to keep some items like the giant scorpion venom, presumably so pointed questions could be asked if someone was found poisoned to death. I thought it was a little redundant since stabbed to death would leave them just as dead, but they didn't tell me how to craft so I wouldn’t tell them how to soldier. Though something I needed to prioritise was making antivenoms for the various poisons I had a sample of. Most of them weren’t too nasty, but more than one group had mentioned either having to use an antivenom or pulling out early because they didn’t have one.
While most of the threats came from beneath, or across the top of the sand, one of the pieces of loot I was most excited for came from above. Ruddy birds circled parts of the sky, territorial and prone to chasing. My true interest came from the feathers they fired at interlopers which revealed their colouring to be due to an odd alloy of bronze. Whether the birds themselves were entirely metallic, or they somehow grew blade like feathers organically, I was curious to know more. I’d hoped my appraisal might give me an image of the birds. I did get the sense of them flying through sandstorms, learning the alloy was highly abrasion resistant in the process, though I was no clearer regarding the alloy's nonstandard composition.
Not that this was even the only source of bronze in the dungeon, though the other had a disappointingly ordinary blend. It’s shape however, was much more interesting. A group who had managed to find one of the ruins had explored and fought several undead, a few of which were armed with strange sickle-like swords made of bronze. It was known dungeons could draw from the history of the world to create their contents, but no one had yet recognised the weapon's design. My appraisal didn’t give me much, but I did discover three things that weren’t otherwise discernible. It was called a khopesh. Only the inside curve was traditionally sharpened. It was traditional in the Sepva Dynasty. No one present was familiar with the Sepva dynasty, but the possibility it might have been sufficiently ubiquitous in that dynasty to be an iconic element of it was exciting, even if the confirmation that it wasn't just a misforge by some apprentice bronzesmith once upon a time held more influence on its current valuation. Add to that, Kete thought it was sufficiently scythe-like that skills for scythes ought to be compatible, and the adventurers walked away with a hefty payday for the otherwise mediocre sword, and I was sent clutching it to go see the guildmaster.
Neither the weapon nor dynasty were familiar to her either, but she had the contacts to find out more. Rather than offput by the amount of additional correspondence that had just been added to her workload, she seemed thrilled to be able to spread the word. Caught up in the general excitement, but unsure we weren't getting ahead of ourselves, I couldn't help but ask,
"I'm glad you're pleased, but do you really think it will encourage more delvers to come?"
She glanced up from the note that she was already beginning to pen with calligraphy that I couldn't help but admire.
"People delve a dungeon for many reasons, the archaeological implications of seeing what items from a bygone era may have been like are certainly one of them." I couldn't help but be distracted by how her hand continued its seemingly effortless movements with the brush, despite her intense golden eyes remaining on me. "More delvers in turn bring more wealth and standing to this guild branch, the clan, and even the empire, which of course is my desire. However, more significant than simply greater numbers of delvers, discovering more about this Sepva dynasty may provide insight into the theme of this dungeon, allowing better prediction of future dangers and resources. At the very least, if it has copied one item from that era, there are likely more."
The implications were rattling around in my head for the rest of the day, I'd been so caught up in the oddness of the sword and what the dungeon might be able to tell us about some obscure part of history, I hadn't considered what that history might be able to tell us about the dungeon. So, I can perhaps be forgiven that when I returned to my room for the evening, I was surprised to receive a knock on my door. Who should I find when I opened it? The adventurer in the spangly dress from earlier.
“Do you mind if I come in?”
In my flummoxed state I reflexively stood aside, “Sure.”
She glided in. Full of confidence unlike my uncertain self. I’d been trying to go with the flow since losing my memories, but I really wished I had them in that moment.
“By the way,” I asked as I closed the door, “how did you get up here? I didn’t think adventurers were generally allowed in this section of the building?”
She raised a hand to veil her chuckle, “I’m an assassin. If I let a little thing like that stop me, I wouldn’t be very good at my job now, would I?”