I jumped straight up as soon as I reappeared at the top of the well. My hands and feet made contact with the walls, my claws digging into stone. I stuck in place even as the well’s cover and pulley fell away with another long crack and snap, leading to a long silent fall into the empty sky.

It was time to go. I activated Hide, then crawled my way out of the well just like a Nightstalker would have. I might have been able to pass as one of them from a distance, but at least one of them had seen me teleport into here, and it screeched before charging directly at me.

Instead of giving them an easy trail to follow I activated Shadow Step and teleported into the shadow of a building about ten meters away. Then I took off, crawling along the wall of that building with impressive speed.

It took some mental effort to do what I was doing, but not as much as I would have expected. Two limbs needed to stay in contact with a surface at all times for Spiderclimb to work, so I had to move in ways that would have been completely unnatural for a human but didn’t feel too strange in my current body. My long arms and flexible limbs were to blame here, letting me keep my knees out of the way. I could perform a sort of frog crawl using as little as three limbs, or I could lope using all four.

In reality it was probably just the skill itself making it feel natural. The real issue I kept having was forgetting which way gravity was pointed. This was particularly bad whenever I crawled over a roof.

The urge to jump from the top of one roof to another was almost overwhelming, but would have been suicidal as jumping would have simply launched me into the sky. The ghouls didn’t seem to have this issue, and it was the only thing that was letting them keep up with me, as I kept having to second guess my instincts.

New Achievement! “Firebug”

Well, not the only thing. The other issue was the rain of burning Unravellers and Unmakers. The burning portion of the river was acting like a massive burning snake in the middle of the city. It was clearly in its death throes, but pieces of it were coming off and being flung far and wide.

The burning worms were setting fires and making it necessary to dodge flaming debris. The ghouls had issues with these as well, but they had no sense of self-preservation, so would simply get taken out by falling worms rather than even attempting to keep an eye out for them.

The worst part was that some of the ones that had faces also had wings. I assumed the ones with faces were Unmakers, as they were much less populous than the faceless worms. The winged version was even rarer.

These banked through the empty sky, searching. I had a feeling that Embrace of Shadows would not have been enough to hide me from these if I hadn’t made it my signature skill. I didn’t know what they could do and didn’t want to find out.

I was glad my friends were embedded in a stone wall, because the fire was starting to become an issue. Hopefully the smoke wasn’t too bad where they were. It was pouring upwards, which was making it collect near the ground and get trapped in the basements and sewers.

The flow and direction of smoke and heat was making the fires much worse than they should have been. The smoke seemed to be spreading the fire into the sewers where the river had escaped to, and now even distant areas were on fire as the buildup of heat caused old dry wood to combust. In retrospect setting the river on fire may have been a mistake.

I was making my way to the center of the city. I felt like I’d led attention away from my friends sufficiently that it was time for me to go to ground for a bit and let things literally cool down for a while.

I could see that my friends were all fine on the party screen–except Dorian of course–and I knew they could see I was fine too. I didn’t feel any need to rejoin them immediately. I didn’t have all our food and water, but I did have most of it. If I died out here, they were all likely dead from dehydration no matter what else happened, but they’d be fine if I missed dinner time.

I ended up heading for a large building on a hill that wasn’t too far from the river, but which was made mostly of stone. It reminded me of a church or cathedral, but to what god or gods I couldn’t tell. I hid under an overhang on the roof and took stock.

I’d definitely lost the ghouls chasing me, but the flying worms were still an issue, as was the burning river itself. I was going to need to cross it, but it was far too dangerous to get close right now.

I looked out over the river from my current position. Few buildings were as tall as this one in this part of the city, so I could see pretty far. With some interest I noticed that the jail wasn’t where I expected it to be. In fact, it wasn’t anywhere at all.

The more I looked around, the more confused I became. Shouldn’t it have been on this side of the river? I would have thought we’d started the dungeon from underneath it. If we hadn’t, where had we started? I could see the guard post we’d assaulted on the first day, it wasn’t too far from here.

Then I had the brilliant idea of looking at my fucking map.

When I opened the full map, it immediately became clear what had happened. I’d made a giant loop without realizing it. My minimap didn’t show this, but looking at the full map gave me a view of various elevations.

Beneath my feet was the entrance to the dungeon, yet this building didn’t seem to have direct sewer access. My map didn’t show any subterranean structures here except the dungeon entrance deep underground. It might not be totally accurate, as it seemed to operate on a fog-of-war like system, but it did show the outlines of structures so long as they were in minimap range.

I looked around again, trying to get my bearings. Was the city not just upside-down, but flipped? Was this building normally on the other side of the river? I searched Tavi’s memories and realized that I was right, the city was completely inverted.

It was hard to recognize with everything also being upside-down. Now that I had a good view and could see how everything was laid out, I realized that everything about this city was backwards. Where I was hiding should have been Astraea’s cathedral, which also served as a courthouse. It was across the river from the prison, overlooking it.

The weird thing was, this building didn’t look like the cathedral of Astraea, and the prison complex simply wasn’t there. It had been replaced by a row of nondescript buildings and what looked like a small park.

It took me a moment, but then I felt stupid. Of course the prison wouldn’t be here. It hadn’t existed when the dungeon formed. They’d built the prison around the dungeon entrance, so what I was looking at was likely what had been there before the prison had been built.

The real curiosity then was this building. Tavi hadn’t even been born when the dungeon opened, so her memories held no clues as to what might have been in this place before Astraea’s cathedral, but logically it didn’t make sense for a different cathedral to have been here before that one. Its function as a court system made the church of Astraea necessary in a population of any significant size.

I started crawling around the building, really looking at it for the first time as anything more than a hiding place. There had obviously once been stained glass windows, but they had long ago cracked and broken. Their pieces had fallen into the sky or inside the building, and whatever imagery they had contained was lost.

I could see similarities between what Tavi’s memories indicated should be here and what I was actually seeing, but it almost seemed scrubbed of actual iconography, like a church without a religion. Astraea’s symbol, the scales of justice, were nowhere to be seen. Neither were the symbols of any other god I knew.

Eventually I decided to make my way inside, both to investigate further and because I spotted several flying Unmakers headed towards my position. The things were traveling in what could only be described as swarms, and I did not want to get spotted by them. So, I made my way over to one of the broken windows and prepared to slip inside what seemed to be the main part of the building.

I pulled up short just before doing so. Somehow, it had escaped my notice that while the windows were all broken and there were visible holes in the building, I couldn’t actually see anything inside. Now that I was right next to one of the openings, I realized that there was an odd haze over it, obscuring what lay within.

I could tell that something was there, it wasn’t a void, but it was like looking at the world using someone else's very strong prescription glasses. Poking at it didn’t seem to do anything, and I was exposed in my current position, so I took a deep breath and ducked inside.

The moment I was fully inside the haze seemed to melt away. A mess of broken pews were scattered around the ceiling near where I came in, and I hid behind them while I looked around. The floor of the cathedral above me was empty, except for what looked like a stone altar that was probably attached to it.

Wrapped around the altar was the biggest Unmaker I’d yet seen.

Its elongated body was as thick as a tree trunk, and long insectile wings were folded up against its body. This variant also had grown legs that reminded me of a praying mantis. Its face was that of a kindly old man with long and unkempt hair, peacefully napping with a slight smile on his face. Every so often its flesh would undulate, and I got the sense of things moving around inside it.

I quietly swapped in my Quality Assurance Specialist title for a moment to get access to my Scan skill. I wanted to know what this thing was so I could put a name to it in future nightmares. There was no way in hell I was risking waking it up with an active Identify.

When I equipped the title, its name appeared in ghostly lettering above its head, just like in a video game.

> The Unholy

>

> Level ?? Greater Undead Abomination (Elite, Raid Boss, Undead)

Whelp. I hated that. Time to get out of here before it woke up.

Before I could withdraw, I caught a shimmer from the edge of my vision. My eyes flicked to it, and at first, I thought it was a hidden enemy. Then I realized it was a partially buried book with an ornately embossed cover. As I looked at it, Scan told me what it was.

> The Art of Soul Forging

>

> Skill Book (Tier 10, Artifact)

As soon as I saw the book and registered what it said, I got a new message.

> System Message

>

> Hidden Quest

>

> At the heart of the bleak city, in a place shunned by all gods, The Unholy guards the stolen wisdom of he who first forged the souls of mortals to fit his grand design.

>

> Retrieve The Art of Soul Forging from The Unholy, lest its knowledge be forever lost.

>

> Rewards:

> The Art of Soul Forging

Fuck… I was about to try and steal from a sleeping dragon’s hoard, wasn’t I? Leaving that book here was not going to happen. A book on Soul Forging was something I desperately needed, and this was the first Tier 10 item I’d seen that wasn’t a consumable.

If Shadow Thief worked the same ways a normal Thief, then I should get bonus experience for stealing things, and I suspected that the more dangerous the situation and more valuable the item, the more experience I’d get. Also, this had obviously been put here by System specifically for me.

Tavi’s memories included an explanation for these hidden quests. People got hidden quests when they stumbled into a situation that had the possibility of being extremely fortunate for them, but which also involved great risk. In dungeons the triggers for a hidden quest were usually fixed, but out in the real world they could happen from emergent behavior of people and monsters.

Tavi hadn’t been sure if System created the rewards, or if he just let you know they existed, but I was pretty sure that some level of personalization was involved here. Maybe if my cellmate Zaeri had found this place it would have been a different item. Possibly a different skill book of the same Tier, or maybe System would have added some bonus progression points to even out the difference. I’d need to ask him later.

I could see the color distortion I had come to associate with elite monsters coming off the boss. Unlike the others we’d fought, this thing was distorting colors throughout the entire room. I wondered if that was what was causing that strange haze that seemed to prevent me from seeing inside here from the outside. If it was any sign of power level then I was truly risking my life here.

I was going to need another soul-space slot to put that book, so I went ahead and bought another rank of Expanded Soulspace. I had a plan, but I’d need to get just a tiny bit closer. I had noticed earlier that the Unmakers and Unravellers had trouble discerning me when I was undead, so I was going to use that to my advantage here as well.

I teleported from my current position to another I could see on the opposite side of the room, not wanting to risk being visible at all crossing that distance. Then I waited for Shadow Step to recover, before doing anything else.

Next, I used Devour Essence on the spirit of a guard ghoul. I could tell there wasn’t much left of the Nightstalker, so I opted to go for the fresh guard since I no longer needed any skills from the Nightstalker version.

As soon as I had done that I reached out through the shadows with Hands of Night, traveling along the many shadows in the room’s rubble until I was in contact with the book I sought. Then I simply moved it into my soul-space using nothing but that connection.

The plan worked perfectly, except for the creak of shifting wood as the book vanished and the debris settled. I released Hands of Night as I heard the monstrosity shift above me. I had planned for this too though. My current position was completely out of line of sight.

I waited as I heard it get to its feet and look around. It made audible sniffing sounds, and I decided that was my cue to go. I teleported again, this time into a shadow right next to a different broken window, which I immediately crawled through.

From just outside the building, I looked back in, sticking my head back through the haze to see. I knew it was stupid, but I needed to check. From this position I could see the old man’s face hovering around the window I’d come in from. His stringy unwashed hair defied gravity as he sniffed the area I’d been in.

That was enough for me. I kept Devour Essence up as I moved away from the building and back out into the burning city, looking for a better place to hide. At this point I was just using it to mask my scent in case the thing somehow decided to try and track me. Undead don’t sweat and don’t breathe, so while I couldn’t shed all my scent, I could reduce it.

At that moment the main doors of the building disintegrated as the upper bulk of The Unholy pressed itself out into the street. It looked about, swaying side to side, and very clearly looked directly at me, but showed no sign of recognition. Instead, it looked at the burning and writhing remnants of the river, let out a keening moan from a hundred mouths that opened along its length, then retreated back into the building.

I guessed it didn’t like fire any more than its kin did.

Hidden Quest Complete!

Congratulations, you have received enough XP to become a Level 6 Shadow Thief!

Congratulations, you have received enough XP to become a Level 7 Shadow Thief!

Congratulations, you have received enough XP to become a Level 7 Trailblazer!

Being undead had allowed me to remain calm as the thing had looked at me. It was hard to get excited when you didn’t have functioning adrenal glands. The shakes overtook me though as I let the skill drop. That had been close. The fact that I’d gotten three levels out of that did nothing but tell me exactly how dangerous it had been.

I ended up moving a bit further away than I’d originally intended, deciding to move back toward the wall near the crossing, figuring that any pursuers would long have given up searching here. The river was also almost entirely withdrawn from this area. All that was left was the smoking charred bodies of worms and ghouls.

I went ahead and used that to my advantage, getting close to the banks and then teleporting to the other side. I then followed the wall for a bit before finding an undamaged stone building to take a rest in.

I ended up climbing inside what looked like an icebox and closing the lid almost all the way, leaving just a crack for air. Then I pulled out my new book and got to reading.

***

“I can’t believe the old goat tried to sell it right out from under us,” Cassara complained. “He knew The Lord Adversary had plans for it.”

At her side, the pallid demonologist simply grunted. “Sam is a tricky one. I’m sure he had a reason for his actions.”

“I don’t care what his reasons are,” she hissed. “I care that he tried to sabotage our mission.”

Cassara glanced over to the corner, where the ball of inky darkness now hovered. Good, it hadn’t moved.

She kept seeing it out of the corner of her eye and thinking that it had gotten closer. It was making her even more irritable than usual. Worse, it reminded her far too much of the black sun that hung in the sky below them.

When they had dropped down into the grave of Altria’s first duke, they had found themselves climbing out of a large furnace or kiln on the ceiling of a dusty but otherwise abandoned basement. Climbing back out would be difficult, but they didn’t plan to leave.

As was the nature of this place, they had dropped onto the ceiling of the room that should have been above them. Set into the floor nearby was a sturdy trap door that now led to the structure that hung below this place. They had taken only a moment to ensure the area was secure, easily dispatching its sole ghostly occupant. Then Cassara had used her one and only scarab token to visit the Infernal Contract.

It was then that she had learned that Nemesis was not in fact waiting for her use, but that the proprietor of buyer’s club had placed it out on the showroom floor. The satyr had been ever so apologetic when she’d confronted him, claiming it to be a simple scheduling error. A miscommunication with Arcanist Mavin who was so busy trying to get his establishment ready for the incoming Travelers. The goat had a thousand excuses, but they were all as hollow as the heart of Nemesis itself.

Still, as frustrating as the experience had been, no one had purchased the item. It would have been an unqualified disaster if they had, but now the plan could proceed as intended. She had returned to the dungeon holding the necklace that granted control of Nemesis, and as was its nature the orb appeared nearby a moment later.

Then everything had gone wrong.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Some idiot had set off the dungeon event, causing the river to overflow in every instance. Cassara’s briefing had included a description of this basement and the business above. The basement was normally safe from flooding. A combination of it being built on a slight rise and the fact that the cellar itself had been exceptionally well built meant that this was one of the safest places to be during the event.

Air might have been a concern if not for the presence of the dungeon entrance above them. Enough flowed in from above that they didn’t need to worry about immediate asphyxiation, but if someone closed the sarcophagus lid it might become a problem.

Every dungeon had a theme, it came from their origin as a fragmented part of reality broken off and allowed to grow into something more. These seeds always represented some fragment of a concept, and the bigger the concept was the more likely that the seed instead represented some specific subset of that larger concept.

A seed that was a fragment of the concept of space wasn’t just going to be large, it would likely have what the daemons referred to as “flavor” - it might simply represent the feeling of being small that the vastness of the cosmos tended to inspire. Such a seed might form a dungeon that generated monsters and structures the size of titans, forcing explorers to live its concept more directly.

This dungeon was famously created from a seed bearing the concept of “Not” and had the flavor of “Un.” The man who had created the dungeon, for its creation had been no accident, had called his creation The Undercity before he had been fed to the thing he had made. After his trial, the residents of the city above had thrown him into its empty sky.

That was the other reason this cellar was generally safe from events. The man who had made the dungeon had once lived here after all. The dungeon had been created in this very basement. The building it was attached to had been one of the largest built in the city at the time, it was an inn and tavern. Its proprietor had been a member of one of the original founding families that settled this region.

Intentionally created dungeons could be manipulated to a degree, and this one’s creator had done so with admirable dedication. He had made it a true reflection of the city above, and as the city grew so did the dungeon, yet some aspects of it had been fixed in place through the will of its creator. One such thing was this building, though it no longer existed in the real world, it persisted in the world its creator had envisioned.

Cassara’s superiors believed that this place had been intended to be the true entrance to the dungeon. The other entrance likely existed only because of the flipped and inverted nature of the dungeon. Perhaps its maker hadn’t realized that the city would be inverted on both axes when he created it, or perhaps he’d just made a mistake. Whatever the reason, the two entrances now led to something like their opposite location, and the city had taken advantage of that to tear down the man’s home and use it to create a prison for their undesirables.

Now that they were inside, a dungeon event had been the one thing that might have been able to stop them. It had always been a possibility, and the mechanics for what caused them in this dungeon were unclear. No one who’d survived had ever claimed to know, and most assumed it was just something that happened randomly, like actual floods. Random or not it could not have come at a worse time for Cassara.

It had been their own fault for not moving quicker. Instead of heading out immediately they had bedded down for the night, planning to rest and begin their traversal of the dungeon in the morning. They had intended to set this place up as a base camp in case they needed a place to retreat to, and instead it had become their prison cell.

Cassara had to admit to herself that she had also wanted to put off the next part as long as possible.

That morning as they were preparing to leave, she had donned the control necklace for Nemesis, and was experimenting with controlling the orb. That was when the event had begun, and suddenly everything had gotten much more complicated.

Cassara had been chosen for this mission because she was a winged succubus, one of the smallest flying devils with real sentience. She was also low enough level that it wouldn’t be impossible for the locals to defeat her, a requirement for any field work. More importantly, her superiors had judged her to be a good candidate to wield Nemesis, being both strong willed and not opposed to one day becoming undead.

Before being summoned to Altria she had been schooled extensively in its use, and her teachers had tested her ability to hold her will firm while distracted. She had endured torture while maintaining concentration. When she had donned the control necklace Cassara had no doubt that she would be able to wield it perfectly, and in the few minutes before the event had begun, she had.

The problem no one had anticipated was that she was now stuck in a tiny room with the little ball of death, and she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when she eventually fell asleep. The event wouldn’t end until the dungeon reset, or the boss was killed. Considering that no one had ever even seen the boss of this dungeon, let alone killed it, that meant that they were stuck here for most of a week.

Adding insult to injury, Nemesis had no issues passing through walls, but would only go where the wielder could see it. That meant that Cassara couldn’t make it leave the room. She’d tried sending it out of the dungeon and it had merely reappeared next to her a moment later, drawn to her as soon as they were separated by dimensional boundaries.

The necklace itself couldn’t be removed; it had tightened around her neck like a choker. Not that removing it would have an effect, it had left its mark on her spirit and now Nemesis would follow her until she died. Experiments had been done in the past trying to trick the orb, and it had been concluded that the necklace worked by imprinting its own spiritual signature on the wearer. Until she died, she effectively was the necklace as far as Nemesis was concerned.

“Would you please stop pacing?” her partner complained.

“What else am I supposed to do? We’re stuck here and I can’t stay awake for five more days. Then, even if I somehow do manage it, we’ll be ejected from the dungeon when it resets. If someone has discovered what we did, we’re as good as dead.”

The pale man sighed, exasperated. “Why exactly do you need to stay awake until the dungeon resets?”

Cassara looked at him like he’d gone mad, then gestured wordlessly at Nemesis.

“Are you not a devil then?” he asked, still with a bored tone.

“Of course I am, what of it?” she snarled back.

“Ah, then perhaps you spent your scarab while you were retrieving Nemesis,” he said.

“No, I still have it… Why?”

“Why not simply go to The Fair Deal and walk outside?” he asked, sounding like he was speaking to a child.

Cassara’s annoyance with the man was growing by the second. “Time passes differently for visitors in The Lord Adversary’s domain. If I spend time there, it won't pass here.” This man was a fool. Everyone knew you couldn’t pass time in Crucible using a scarab.

He just looked at her. “And why exactly does that matter? You’ll still be outside. You can send Nemesis miles away from you, and then just take a nap.”

Cassara stopped pacing. Of course. That was so simple. How hadn’t she seen it? It would make this week of waiting seem like an eternity, as she’d have to spend every waking moment here in this room concentrating on keeping Nemesis under control, but she would have no trouble sleeping. Sure, she would need to see her despicable fool of a sister more times than she would like, which was none at all, but she would pass that trial as well.

Cassara looked over to where her partner was sitting, annoyed that he had proved competent yet again. She quashed that thought. Servants of The Lord Adversary praised only success. It was blasphemy to regret the success of others, if they had succeeded then they deserved only praise. “That is a good idea,” she forced herself to say. “I will do that.”

The man didn’t bother to look up from what he was doing. Cassara looked at it and frowned. What was he doing exactly? She hadn’t thought to ask.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, walking closer to take a look.

“Scaffolding,” he said. Then after a moment he glanced up at her. “It’s a preparatory step before summoning a daemon,” he clarified.

“I know what scaffolding is,” she snapped. She was pretty sure she knew, anyway. During training her demonology classes had only been introductory, as she had no skill in that area. “Why are you summoning a daemon now?”

“Not now. This will take a little while. Telvarn is quite powerful but needs to be guided through anything I need him to do. I’m going to create a lesser daemon to mitigate the effects of the event and allow me to travel more freely here. Then we can use it to get out of this cellar. Combined with Nemesis we should be able to proceed with the plan.”

For the first time in years, Cassara felt an overwhelming impulse to kiss a man. She blinked several times, trying to clear her head. That had been odd, she’d paid off that particularly annoying species penalty forever ago. What was wrong with her?

“That… That’s excellent news,” she said. “How long do you think it will take?”

“Oh, hard to say, I’ve been pretty distracted so it’s not going very fast…”

Cassara nodded. That made sense. She’d been wondering why they had even bothered sending her on this mission when this man was so clearly competent. If he was so easily distracted it must be that he lacked the self-discipline to master Nemesis, and so she had been needed to wield the weapon while he provided her support.

Cassara resumed pacing, having nothing better to do. From his place on the floor, her partner sighed and got back to work.

***

Corona paced back and forth in the mess hall of the prison. She’d been seated at a table until recently, but anxiety had gotten to her and she needed to work off some nerves. Tristan was convinced that this dungeon event thing was somehow part of The Adversary’s plans, and seemed to be planning to stand next to that damn lever for the rest of the week. She hadn’t yet figured out what he planned to do about sleep. Maybe he’d just sleep under it.

The man was more than a little crazy, but he seemed like a good guy. Somehow managing to walk the line between religious zealot and reasonable human being. She’d damn near laughed her ass off earlier when he’d pulled that piece of BS with the guard, saying he wanted to gossip instead of questioning the man. She’d felt like she was in an old-fashioned cop drama. Hell, next time maybe she’d ask him if they should play good cop, bad cop.

It was hard to keep in mind how deadly serious all this was for these people. You couldn’t look at some of the stupid rules they lived by and take them entirely seriously, but that’s exactly what they did. Wrapping her mind around that was harder than she would have expected. It was easier when she was thinking of this place as a game world, but that was a dangerous habit she needed to break.

That wasn’t the only frustrating thing though. She was also frustrated by just how little she’d been able to help so far. Her biggest contribution had been taking notes, like some kind of glorified secretary, and that was not acceptable. She needed to figure out what else she could do that would help. Given that her levels were so low it probably wasn’t going to be anything related to fighting. Not yet anyway.

She stopped pacing and frowned. Now that she thought about it, there was something she could do that Tristan couldn’t. Well, he couldn’t right now at least.

Making up her mind, she walked over to the guard stationed at the mess hall door. “You know Wernst and Bravic?” she asked without preamble.

“Uh, yes ma’am,” the guard said, not sure where this was going.

“Have them both brought here.”

The man looked dubious, but everyone here knew she was Tristan’s assistant, and people walked on eggshells around that man. They weren’t about to tell her no without good reason. He scurried off, leaving her alone with her thoughts again. She used that time to plan.

When Wernst and Bravic showed up a few minutes later, Corona was just stepping back out from talking to Tristan. He’d been hesitant, worried for her safety, but agreed that this was a good use of her time. To aid her, he’d given her his Arbiter’s badge of office, saying that while it would be obvious to anyone that she wasn’t an Arbiter it would show that she was acting by his authority.

After some hesitation, he’d also used one of his skills on her. He’d called it Balance of Power, but he might as well have called it steroids because she now felt like she could lift a car. Her movements felt fluid and powerful in a way she’d never before experienced, and she was even able to think faster, though she didn’t feel any smarter.

Tristan had warned her twice that the feeling of power wasn’t to be trusted, that her level was still too low to defend herself against a serious threat. This boost, as impressive as it seemed, was just to give her a fighting chance if things went badly.

“Ma’am, the Arbiter wanted to see us?” Wernst asked, looking past her at the open armory door.

“No, I wanted to see you. In fact, I’m conscripting you,” she told them. “Tristan is convinced this Tavi character has something to do with whatever The Adversary is planning. You two know where she lives, so you’re going to take me there and I’m going to interview the family. I want to see if they know anything.”

Bravic simply nodded, but Wernst grimaced. “That’s pretty unlikely ma’am, they’re just poor folk trying to get by. If Tavi’s involved in something she shouldn’t be then she’d probably try to keep them out of it.”

“Call me Corona,” she told them. She’d had enough ma’ams and misses tossed her way during her tenure as a professor. Now that she was some thirty years younger than she had been, it just made her feel old again. “Adjunct is fine if you insist on formality.” According to Tristan, this was her title as an official assistant to an Arbiter.

“Yes ma’am,” said Bravic, without missing a beat.

“Guardsman Bravic, do you ever take the stick out of your ass?” she asked him.

“Not when I’m on duty, ma’am,” he replied. His expression didn’t so much as twitch.

She rolled her eyes, then walked out of the room, forcing the two men to follow her.

About half an hour later the three of them were standing outside a well-kept but obviously run-down house in Altria’s poorest district. It had started raining lightly, and all three of them were slightly damp and very uncomfortable.

Wernst rapped on the door as they arrived, and Corona stood close to the house, hoping to shelter from the rain and cold air sweeping down from the nearby mountain range. They’d seen a fog bank roll in from the river as they walked here, and it was overall shaping up to be a miserable day.

The door didn’t open fast enough for Wernst's liking, so he rapped on it again. This time, the door was yanked open, and Corona had to choke back a surprised yell as a badger taller than Bravic loomed above them. It was dressed in only an apron and had a wooden ladle in hands that made it look not that much bigger than a spoon.

“Hello Narani, can we come in? We’ve got someone here that’d like to speak with you,” Wernst said.

Narani glanced at Corona briefly, then seemed to really take in the presence of Wernst and Bravic. The ladle fell from shaking paws as she spoke. “Oh no… Is it Tavi? Did she…? What about Lucus? Is he…”

Wernst immediately understood the conclusion Narani had leapt to. The poor woman had likely been thinking of little else since her two charges had entered the prison. Corona saw Wernst start to correct her, but then realization crossed his face as well and he paled. Bravic stepped forward into the gap.

“There’s been a dungeon event. Both Lucus and Tavi were inside when it happened and didn’t come out before the entrance was sealed. They were with a group going in overnight, and if they conserve their resources, they may have enough supplies to last the week, provided that they were able to find a place to shelter. For now, they are still alive.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “Also they were with Arven Wyse.”

Corona had trouble reading the expression on Narani’s face, not being familiar with the body language of badgers, but Bravic’s clipped speech and passionless delivery did seem to help calm the woman… At least until he mentioned Wyse.

“Arven fucking Wyse!” The woman practically roared, then turned and walked away from the door, shouting over her shoulder. “Get in here and close the door, you’re letting the heat out. Maraci!”

A young pink girl with small horns and a thin, snakelike tail appeared as if conjured by her name. Narani turned to her, waving the ladle in her direction. Corona wondered when she had picked it back up, it had appeared in her hands as if by magic. Maybe it was magic. Without pausing a beat Narani began issuing orders, sending the girl off to stoke the hearth fire, then to the kitchen to fetch food and warm drinks for their visitors.

Corona watched all this, amused. The woman reminded her so much of her own grandmother that she found herself wanting to jump to obey her even though the commands hadn’t been directed at her. She was probably this woman’s age at least, but she’d never been able to pull off that aura of assured competence and confidence. It seemed to be a skill some women were born with, while others acquired with age. Corona had a feeling that Narani was a born grandmother.

A few minutes later they were all seated around a big table, hot tea and bowls of some kind of stew laid out before them. Corona knew better than to resist being fed, despite having just eaten, so she said a quick thanks and had a spoonful before even trying to proceed with why they’d come here. Not that she’d be able to ask her questions yet, not until Narani was satisfied she knew what was going on with her children.

“Now then, introduce me to your friend here and then start telling me why my cubs are with Arven fucking Wyse in the dungeon, and what you’re planning to do about it,” Narani said, ominously.

Corona was starting to wonder if this Wyse guy’s middle name was actually just “fucking” - it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing she’d heard recently. She’d forgotten to ask Tristan about him in the chaos of the dungeon event starting up, but she’d need to find out what his deal was soon.

Wernst took up the story this time. “This is Corona, she’s Adjunct to Arbiter Tristan.”

In the kitchen, Maraci dropped a plate, cursing quietly as it shattered on the stone floor. Narani simply put down her cup of tea, but then Corona noticed she’d needed to place her hands on the table, apparently to keep them from shaking.

Corona was suddenly in the very awkward position of being the only one who didn’t know why this was a big deal. She didn’t have a good way to explain to the woman in front of her that, whatever terror Tristan apparently inspired in her, Corona was about as dangerous as a laser pointer.

Well, no harm in trying.

Corona put down her spoon and addressed the woman. “Thank you for the soup and hospitality, both are appreciated. Let me assure you that while I’m aware of the effect my companion seems to have on people, I’m just an assistant.”

That seemed to do the trick, as a collective breath seemed to be released by the entire house. Right then the front door opened, and a small green man sauntered in, a sack over his shoulder. He started to say something, noticed the assembly around the table, and whatever he’d been about to say died in his throat as only a gurgling cough escaped.

Then he took off running.

“Ryke! Get back here!” Narani bellowed. “They’re not here for you!”

The badger woman glanced at the three of them. “You aren’t here for him, right?”

They all shook their heads.

A moment later the goblin poked his head back in the door, looking around again. “You sure?” he asked, slinking back in.

“We’re not here for you,” Corona told him. “We’re here about Tavi and Lucus.”

“Ah, so they’re dead then.” He nodded, not seeming surprised.

“They aren’t dead!” Yelled an angry voice from the kitchen, Maraci presumably.

“They aren’t dead, but they are in great danger,” Corona said, trying to get the situation under control. “There has been a dungeon event, but they have plenty of supplies with them.”

“And Arven fucking Wyse, apparently.” Narani said, rubbing a large paw on her forehead.

“Who?” said the goblin, making him officially Corona’s favorite person.

Both guardsmen looked at each other, then Bravic started explaining. “Wyse is a prisoner. He’s been a prisoner for over five years, but before that he was the captain of Altria’s royal guard, and before that he was one of the most decorated members of the King’s Blades. He’s survived multiple dungeon events and takes his group further into the dungeon than just about anyone else on any sort of regular basis. Those who go with him are almost always the desperate or the mad. The man has walked out the dungeon all alone more than once.”

Wernst took up the story. “He took the Duke’s son’s head clean off. That’s why they threw him in there. He challenged him to a duel to first blood, accusing the Marquess of performing a forbidden rite, but offered no proof. Then he took his head clean off with one blow, claiming it was still to first blood since the man hadn’t bled before the fatal cut. He showed no remorse or guilt, and never has to my hearing.”

Corona listened with fascination, wondering what this man had to do with Tristan. Ryke on the other hand had more practical questions. “Huh, surprised they threw him in jail. Why not just kill him?”

“Wyse claimed it was an accident, and the advocates successfully argued that accidental death during an official duel wasn’t punishable by death provided the rules of the duel were obeyed. Technically, Wyse hadn’t actually broken any rules. There wasn’t an Arbiter in the city then to do a truth speaking, and no way to prove for sure that it was intentional, so the Lawpriests gave him a life sentence.” Bravic said.

Wernst jumped in again. “Plus, during the trial some really nasty stuff got spread around about the Marquess, and some bard wrote a song about the whole affair that made Arven out to be the hero of the story. That song’s been outlawed in Altria now, but for a while it made Wyse’s prosecution very unpopular. It was a real surprise when old Bishop Armeias still gave him a life sentence after the Law and public opinion seemed to be in Wyse’s favor.”

Narani cut them both off. “Everyone knows that money buys what passes for justice in Altria. No mystery there.”

Ryke agreed. “Surprised they didn’t just get a death warrant for him. Maybe they wanted him to suffer?”

“No Arbiter in town means no death warrants. They have to sign off on every single one. No point either when a life sentence in the dungeon is probably worse than death,” Bravic said, nodding towards Corona. “Arbiter Tristan didn’t show up for another few years, so if someone wanted a death warrant, they’d have to send for an Arbiter to issue one, and sending for an Arbiter to sign a valid but wildly unpopular death warrant seems like a good way to get one interested in your business. Unless the issue is clear cut, a death warrant is rarely worth the trouble.”

Corona was distracted, she had almost managed to forget that in some strange way her body had once belonged to Valen Armeias, Bishop of Altria. She’d said as much to Tristan when he’d questioned her. She’d come to think of him as her organ donor, and it was strange to hear of something he had done many years ago.

She had been assuming he was a good man, but perhaps not if as Narani said his judgements could be bought. It might explain something else she’d been wondering about and hadn’t dared mention to Tristan.

Corona had two skills on her unlock list that seemed a bit odd. One was called Legacy of Humanity, and according to Tristan it was just a slightly weaker version of one of the human species skills, Adaptable. Her other weird skill was called Legacy of the Deceiver, and it was a class skill, not a species skill.

When she’d talked to the other Travelers she’d asked them about their skills, and all of them had at least one legacy skill. Most of them had the Legacy of Humanity, but not all of them. Some had the legacy of a different species, making her think that this particular skill came from the person they had replaced in this world, not something inherent to all the humans coming from earth.

That made the other skill all the more interesting. Only one other Traveler she’d spoken to had a second legacy skill, and his was also a class skill. It was called Legacy of the Smith, and his class was Weapon Master.

It did seem like the legacy class skills matched up with the Travelers class, but did that mean the person they had replaced had a similar class or skills? Belatedly, she realized she had been wrong to hide this from Tristan. She’d need to correct that when she returned to the prison. In the meantime, she’d come here to do a job and it was time to get to it.

“Miss Narani,” Corona said, ignoring a side argument between Ryke and Wernst over if Arven Wyse was indeed guilty. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, perhaps also ask your family here as well. My… associate, has become worried that the girl Tavi has become involved in some scheme of The Adversary’s, and if so, we need you to tell us anything you might know. It might help stave off a disaster for all of us, not just your family.”