I can't say that I was unmoved by Gravis's mockery, but it's not like I expected something different.

But still, fuck Gravis - he is a little too cheeky for me.

Unfortunately, the premise of wandering around this camp alone, however hypocritical it may sound, wasn't my greatest dream - so, I stopped myself from retorting to my temporary guide.

As we walked, I had some spare time to look around - which I used to take a closer look at the houses of the warriors stationed to keep watch and confine the Gate.

There wasn't anything special about them, it was just that they were the first buildings I had ever seen with flat roofs.

My guess is that the snow - which by the way has nearly completely melted already - didn't fall so vigorously as in Derdania, or even further north from here, around the Northern Overseer. It would make sense to build flat roofs if that was the case, angled ones need much more material after all.

Nearing the place where our companions currently stayed, I saw we were closing into the mound walls, and that didn't fill me up with happiness, as to say.

I hoped they would give some of those buildings - there was a multum of them anyway. But if that was not the case, where were we about to sleep?

Along with that, another question popped into my mind; were all those houses fully occupied? If so, then I have ridiculously underestimated the strength of this garrison...

But anyway, mentally preparing for another night in a tent, we passed a corner and arrived in the area - where one tent already stood erect.

"Wow, someone was in a hurry. I hope they didn't burn from all that friction..."

Gravis's witty comment passed by my ear, as I looked around in curiosity.

All our horses stood some distance away, tied with a rope to some pole sticking out of the ground. Seniors probably wanted to look like a normal adventuring party - otherwise, they would let the horses roam free, as they were excellently trained and listened to their orders.

Los on the other hand, was an entirely different story. While he got the same training as his fellow four-hooves, he was still young and excited. He wasn't unruly tho, and to act as the others, he just needed a little tug - so I normally tied him to one of the other animals or some tent.

In their unusual position, the steeds looked a bit confused, but they didn't disobey.

Behind them, a little farm was hidden between the houses, and further towards the monolith, a stable was located. This setup created quite a comedic image, with horses' heads poking out through the small windows and looking at us curiously, from behind the cows' horns.

On the other side, the mound blocked the view up to nearly two metres in height, but other than that, I don't think it would be very useful if someone decided to invite the outpost.

Apart from the animal corner, and the whole side dedicated to eathy defences, the rest of the space around our soon-to-be camp was occupied by smaller buildings.

My focus returned to the fledgeling camp, where most of the group prepared their tents, with the exception of Stellmo, who was lying on the ground and staring at the clouds.

"Huh, my worries were pointless, the friction wouldn't get him fast enough, with his pyromaniac tendencies..."

This time, I chuckled, even though the joke was dark enough to hide in the night.

"Stop with that, hasn't he said that it was an accident?"

Stellmo accidentally set on fire a few houses while escaping from the Northern Overseer - I believed him when he told us about it, and honestly, all those jokes of Gravis's started to annoy me some time before then.

"As my old father always said; accidents are windows into the truth of the world. Quite poetic, isn't it?"

I have never heard about his father, but he sounded like someone who had his way with words. Meaning, he was full of bullshit.

Making the distance between myself and Gravis, in a desperate attempt at regaining some energy to live through this day, I went to get my camping equipment from the satchel tied to Los's saddle.

But before that, I had to let the horse rest - no one wants to stay in the uniform after work, after all.

Then came time to find the place, and set up my tent - but that unfortunately, that activity has been broken in the middle, as the outpost's commander visited our camp.

"Algier, right?"

The warrior in full, heavy armour, asked my windy senior - who was on his knees plucking the nails into the ground.

"Yes?"

He answered while standing up to meet the Pruinian warrior eye to eye.

"Well, it turns out that you and your group have to go in tomorrow, we don't have the food for you lot in here."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Algier didn't answer for a moment, in which I sat on the ground to listen, abandoning my tent for a while.

"Is there nothing we can do to have more time to prepare?"

I think Commander Gaius was a worthy rival for Algier, normally he would negotiate much more aggressively, but with that man, he acted very tamely.

"No, you must enter the gate tomorrow - but I can tell you what I know from the previous teams who came here to explore the dungeon."

As he proposed to be actually useful, Gaius looked as if he was doing us a huge favour. I liked him less by the minute.

"Please do so."

It was weird to watch Algier acting as if he was polite.

"Ask anything you want - I don't know what information you need about the Gate."

The windy mage stopped for a moment, in which he looked as if deep in thought.

"I don't want to take a lot of your time, commander, so I will ask three questions."

He seemed to have thought about it before, but it could be his famous quick-thinking once again.

"First off, what terrain is there in the dungeon? Are there multiple sets? Do we need to take our horses?"

I don't think it was one question, but okay - it's Algier who risks getting hit or insulted, not me.

"I don't like your definition of one question, adventurer. But I will humour you... There are three sets of environments there - one is a dungeon in a normal sense, damp underground chambers full of monsters and traps of all kinds - the second is a path through the mountains, icy and tiring. There is no rest there for weak adventurers such as you - and the third, a vast plain, similar to our beautiful rolling hills, that's where you will appear at first, and where you will find gates to different sub-dungeons. So, yes, you will probably need your horses."

He stopped talking, signalling with his head for Algier to continue with his questions.

"Do you know what beasts await us there?"

"...The only thing I know is that you have to beware of eyes - each team that came before you left with at least one casualty they blamed on eyes."

It wasn't a big advice, but even such a vague and small piece of information could help us out.

"Okay... How about the conditions for a clear? What do we have to do to reach the guardian?"

This time, the commander looked quite pissed as he spoke, probably angry at himself and all the previous adventurer's teams that came to his outpost.

"No... no one has ever reached the guardian."

It was a shocking, revelation, which made everyone from my group look over at the commander - their eyes wide and asking, if he may have joked. The only one whose heart hadn't started to beat waster was me - as I didn't know what that would imply at the time.

"Sir, you aren't serious, right?"

Algier expressed his doubts, with the accompaniment of nods and hopefully looks.

"No, unfortunately, the dungeon remains unsolved."

My companions' faces fell, and hope escaped their bodies in the form of dramatic expressions. Most were sad and disappointed, but Fenfallal's face engraved itself in my mind the most - he was clearly upset, angry even.

I left my unfinished tent alone and walked over to Stellmo who was still lying on his back and watching the clouds, though now, his gaze was unfocused. The commander's words had an impact on him too.

"What is going on? Why are you guys so frustrated? Isn't the first clear a good thing?"

As fell on my back beside him and stopped holding back my curiosity.

"Ehhh... right, you wouldn't know that... Well, to put the matter simply, getting the first clear is only good for fame in the adventurer's society - nothing more."

He looked at me in understanding.

"Isn't it the most profitable? I thought the chance for an artefact is almost sure in the first clear..."

Despite the fact that only a few months ago, I was hellbent on becoming an adventurer, I didn't know nearly anything about the profession apart from the basics and some rumours - with one of them stating that defeating the dungeon's boss was the greatest opportunity to gain wealth in the world.

"No, unfortunately not. In fact, the first clear is the least profitable, while being the most dangerous at the same time."

Stellmo rubbed his hands around his eyes in frustration, returning his head to its previous position.

"I get that there is no strategy for the boss, but it sounds like there is more to it. Care to elaborate? Pretty please?"

"Eh, it's better if I tell you about the wider scale of things... You see, the first beast wave for each Gate is the most dangerous - it crosses the threshold at horrifying speed while unleashing the most powerful monsters it will ever do. It's like a frontal assault on a fortress - an attempt to breach the walls and slaughter all inhabitants before they can gather themselves up, without any... I don't remember the word... Well, they don't mind the costs."

Stellmo stopped talking for a moment, probably gathering thoughts and searching his memory for the words he wanted to use.

"As for the later beast waves, and the situation inside the dungeon overall - it's as if the army moved on and left some remains to harass the fortress. They aren't that powerful, and they expand in numbers way slower. Though, contrary to my fortress-attack allegory, the pitful remains are the ones with better equipment - which in the dungeon's case means more valuable loot to find."

I was truly surprised to hear that, and I still wonder about that from time to time. But despite my honest efforts, I can't figure out a better explanation for the phenomena than while lying side-to-side with the fiery warrior.

"It's like the dungeon wants us to enter."

"Yeah, it looks like that, even though it fucking weirds me out."

He was quite emotional while replying to my theory. I think he might be somewhat fixated on the mysterious Gates.

"How about the boss? Does it stay the same, or is it weaker, like the rest of the dungeon's inhabitants?"

"Yeah, it's like the boss inbred with his disabled sister - though, the bad practices stopped after that generation. The first one is substantially stronger than later ones, but the rest are comparable to each other, with only small fluctuations."

I still can't believe he said that with a straight face, and comfortably made it into a quite informative description...

"Okay..."

"When we return, you will have to thank the royal offices for making the statistics, they help a lot."

This sentence was much quieter than our earlier conversation, even while accounting for our hush tone for the entire duration. It would be sad if someone heard what we talked about and got suspicious over it - as I would not get the occasion to than the Royal Offices... Though, I have a premonition that it won't happen anyway.

I laid there for some afterwards, more because of politeness than interest in the clouds though - I didn't want Stellmo to take me for a rude brat who comes a goes only to get his answers.

Even though that would be quite an accurate description of me...

Anyway, after looking at the sky long enough that Parcas came from somewhere and sat on my chest - further squashing me to the damp dirt, I stood up and went to finish up my tent, with Parcas safely placed in his pocket.

The rest of the day passed calmly, we set up a fire in the middle of our camp and enjoyed some baked potatoes - with a twist suggested by some of the soldiers stationed in the outpost. Namely, we peeled them and cut them into a few larger pieces, then put them in a pot over the fire, inside the pot there was a net that made sure that the potatoes didn't touch the scorching metal walls of the pot, and were baked only by the super hot air.

It should suffice to say, that they were delicious - super soft insides kept together by a little harder skin and a mix of spices did their jobs exceptionally.

My only regret is that the pot belongs to those guards... what a waste.