Our steps echo in the Dungeon. [Princess] Laurealia's heavily armored figure is by my side as I walk through the same corridors that I went through the first time around. The opening that [Captain] Drusillus has drilled into the rock with the help of [Geomancers] is quite far from where I ended up—roughly a half-minute trek away.

'Spatially distorted Dungeon.'

That was the assessment after several parties had gone through the immense labyrinth that rested just outside the walls of Amorium. In fact, Lucillus explained to me that the presence of this previously undetectable spot justified the incredible Mana density in the region and the meteoritic rise of Amorium as the breadbasket of Epretos.

[Princess] Laurealia raises a fist, and I can hear several thumps as the Royal Guard behind us stops. Then, I hear a groan and a sigh, "again? Do we really need to do this?"

That's Marcellus Claudius, the leader of the famous Gold-Rank adventuring group that accepted my invitation to join us on this excursion. To be fair, I didn't invite them because of his racist ass but because of the rather toned Vanedeni girl that’s on his team.

"[Lord] Claudius," [Princess] Laurealia says with the usual growl to her voice, "is your family in the business of arms or complaining? Because with all I've heard so far, you might want to switch to the latter."

"She has a point, Marcellus," a short but slim woman clutching two daggers replies.

Livia, their [Rogue].

"Your Highness," the man’s deep voice reaches our backs, "this is pointless. These nonsensical drawings on the walls... Can't we just organize parties to bring [Artists] and copy them with—"

That's when Lisith, the Vanedeni woman with a huge sword hanging on her back, bumps her shoulder into the man, immediately shutting him up.

"There's powerful history in here, Marcellus," she says. "Be quiet. Your Highness, may I request copies once your Royal Guard is done?"

The [Princess] nods and gestures to the twelve men behind her to get started on copying the paintings that populate the walls. Laurealia had us stop at almost every juncture where they were present, asking her men to jot them down with as much accuracy as possible. Apparently, the Royal Guard, among other things, is trained in mapmaking and… sketching? Is that what it's called? Heh, I don't know. But they are basically proper [Knights], just under another name: they are not just much stronger than pretty much any person in the Watch, save for the [Captain], but they are also clearly instructed in a more intellectual and culture-oriented manner.

I look back at the team and the men in black armor before approaching the [Princess].

"A word?"

"Sure."

…

Covered in a series of spells that give us some privacy, and after walking a few yards further down the black corridor, I look the woman up and down, "So, what do you think?"

She removes her helmet and lets her purple hair cascade over her shoulders, placing the head cover under her armpit.

"I've never seen anything like this. Supposedly, only Kome has ancient Dungeons that could rival this one. But here… the few Hounds we’ve encountered were much stronger than any random monster has any right to be. The rotten bastards were really hard to kill."

"You should have seen the statue."

And the divine beings in the last room, I think to myself.

She sighs, says nothing, and just looks down the black corridor, where not even my [Light] can reach.

"Are you sure the letter was from the [Captain] himself?" She suddenly asks, not looking at me.

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"Yeah. It sounded like him."

"There are skills to imitate that."

"I don't know, call it my… gut sense."

Plus, the minute [Princess] Laurealia told me that the letter could have been a counterfeit, I asked Magister Mulligan to run all his spells on it to make sure Plinius really wrote it. There was no evidence of tampering or anything remotely magical on it. It was so remarkably mundane that no skill could have generated it.

"Why would he be so worried about the Dungeon? Who wanted to meet you? Other Humans?"

"I've told you already," I smile back.

"Yes… you come from another… another world."

…

There weren't many other options to convince [Princess] Laurealia to trust me. And there were even fewer to let Stan have some perspective on who I really am and why I need his help as much as he needs mine. He knows me as Joey, the quirky Baker that no one knows where he came from. The lack of further questioning I’ve recently attributed to the fact that I might actually have some [Slaver] parents or something terrible like that, which would explain to them why I'm like this.

Now, it's hard to explain how the leggings craze of the early 2010s and the goth-girl-filled media of the same period made me this way, but I opted to try and come up with a simpler explanation.

'I come from another world: a world without magic.'

If you asked me why I revealed something like that, the first answer in my mind is that 'a world without magic' sounds almost on par with 'Bond, James Bond' as far as catchphrases that fade a scene to black go. However, the easier explanation is that Laurealia hates Humans, that she would have never really trusted me, and that Stan had revealed something massive about him.

As any good American would have done, I made it into a transaction. Since I got to partake in such a massive secret of the Elven Kingdom of Lucerna, I shared with them a very important piece of my own life. Will they force me to figure out the atomic bomb and cause a nuclear winter? Who knows, but at least now, I can try and explain the plot of Friends to someone.

And if Ross and Rachel’s nine seasons' worth of pointless drama doesn't drive Laurealia to stick a dagger in my eye, I might have actually forged a new alliance in this world.

In fact, her demeanor has shifted perhaps too much.

"You can still be racist," I tell the woman as we sit on some stools I took out of my bag of holding. "Actually, it makes me quite uncomfortable how you don’t call me Human anymore."

"You…" Laurealia shifts her gaze toward me before staring at the opposite wall, where some faded paint inhabits the hard stone. "You never partook in the crimes of those people. It's not in your blood. I made a mistake."

"I'm surprised you accepted such an explanation so fast," I smile. "No superior truth-stones and such."

"I did use a superior truth-stone."

"Oh, I didn't notice."

"That's the point," she sighs, looking defeated. "You… you are letting this entire town…"

"Listen, let's go back to the main topic, shall we?" I say, shifting uncomfortably.

"The letter."

"The letter," I repeat with more emphasis. "The man wanted me to get the Royal Guard on this, but he had been advised against it."

"Joey…" the [Princess] looks at me with a frown. "Why do you trust me with this information? What if I was the one who killed the man?"

"I mean," I shrug, "he wasn't my favorite person in the world. Plus, you hate doing this. Unless you are pulling the smartest con I've ever seen, you seem pretty genuine. And you are a [Princess]. [Princesses] are usually nice in stories, aren't they?"

Again, I asked Magister Mulligan to help me ensure that this woman is truly squeaky clean. We pulled up things about her with magic that most people shouldn't have access to. While Laurealia's innocence in the matter isn't beyond unreasonable doubt, she has clearly passed the reasonable part.

She nods, unconvinced.

"Your woman's brother also mentioned he would be court-martialed for whatever he was going to do," Laurealia mutters, looking around and making sure my spells are still holding and no one is turning their head. "Why?"

"Eew, 'my woman's brother?' Christ. But yeah, that’s weird. He was to go for some mission, last I heard. He probably was about to do something that would have maybe ruined that mission?"

"I don't like speculating this much," she growls. But this time, the growling is more at her own frustration than at me.

"So," I ask, "are we going to tell your guys?"

[Princess] Laurealia looks at the distant Royal Guard and hesitates. Moments later, she's shaking her head.

"I need to check something before I do."

"Sure," I say, trying to keep my nervousness at bay.

She doesn't trust her own guards. Well, that can only mean one thing: this is not the kind of escort that simply protects you. This is a surveillance detail.

…

We finally come to the last empty room. The three columns still rest there but without the tantalizing offers on top of them.

Young Luciani, maybe you might want to say a prayer to those abominations. This time, you might manage to strike a putrid bargain.

Old man, I've told you, I know better.

The whole diatribe has been going on since the day I almost accepted the offer of that woman—the Lover. I can feel shivers running down my spine as I think about it. Moreso, it reminds me of the damn discussion I had with Flaminia.

"See? Empty," I say, pointing at the Dungeon. "I have no idea what Plinius was talking ab—"

Suddenly, the entire room starts shaking.