“A word of advice,” Liam’s voice greeted Edmund the moment he set foot on the hardwood floor, “don’t drink the ale.”

Edmund blinked as the words mingled in his ears with the chorus of laughter and singing and conversation that saturated the space around him. “There’s ale?”

“Aye, there’s ale,” a woman answered, clearly thinking Edmund’s question directed at her. “Chest here grants one token to each delver that passes through.”

Edmund glanced over the woman, taking note of her tight ponytail, pristine set of chainmail, and unstained tabard bearing the royal crest. The kingsguards were here. He supposed that was a good thing. It meant they hadn’t caught Amelia yet.

Edmund knew that was a selfish thing to think, that Amelia was risking her life by remaining in the dungeon, and that innocent guards now risked their own in their attempts to save her, but he’d come to root for the princess. A childish part of him hoped they’d clear the Eternal Depths together.

Shaking the fantasy from his mind, Edmund cast his gaze first over the chest the guard had mentioned—more of a small wooden box on a side table than a true loot chest—then across the floor as a whole.

It was a tavern.

The entrance stood upon the upper level, the wooden floor beneath him stretching out in a great ring encircling the cylindrical space. This upper level stretched only some twenty feet from the wall, leaving a massive gap in the room’s center through which those above could look upon those below. Delvers crowded the upper deck, especially around the wooden railing at its edge, blocking Edmund’s view of the lower level. Judging by the crowd’s behavior, there was something down there worth seeing.

To Edmund’s left, a staircase connected the levels, along which delvers with ales in their hands moved freely. To his right, a counter sat built into the wall. He watched as men exchanged tokens and coin alike for fresh mugs.

The kingsguard stopped him as he moved to collect his own token from the wooden box. “Before I let you move on, I’ve got to ask a few questions.”

“I haven’t seen her,” Edmund lied. At her raised eyebrow, he explained, “I spoke with your fellows on the tenth floor. I’m surprised this princess of yours has survived so long, brought down here against her will.”

Edmund knew damn well nobody had ever brought Amelia anywhere against her will, but he had to pretend his only info had come from the guards, so he parroted their story back at them.

The kingsguard ever so kindly took the bait Edmund had given her. “She’s alive. Command’ll send word the moment her title passes to her brother. ’Til then, we’re stuck down here.”

Edmund glanced about the tavern around them. “There could be worse places.”

“Aye, that there could,” the woman responded. She patted the wooden box affectionately. “Take your token and move along. Have some fun. You look like you need it.”

Edmund nodded his thanks and collected the wooden coin from the box. Ethereal smoke wafted from the image of a tankard pressed into it.

Ale Token

Redeemable for one mug of ale at Last Respite.

Edmund blinked the smoke away as walked past the kingsguard onto the floor proper. “Last Respite?”

“The hubs get less frequent from here on out,” Liam explained. “The next one isn’t until the twenty-fifth floor, then not ‘til fifty after that.”

“But it’s not the last one.”

“It is for most of them,” Liam said, gesturing to the few hundred delvers that filled the tavern. “About two thirds won’t bother delving past this point, and less than half of those that do will survive to the twenty-fifth floor.”

“That explains the ale,” Edmund said, his gaze wandering over the drinking adventurers. “Which I shouldn’t drink because…?”

“Ale makes you humans stupid,” Liam said. “Which is a reason why you should drink it, now that I think about it.” He laughed. Edmund didn’t. “Listen, it was earnest advice. That isn’t copper they’re spending at the bar there.”

Edmund turned the token over in his hand as Liam’s point sunk in. “It’s that expensive?”

“Everyone this far down went through a great struggle to get here. Most lost something along the way. Every single one of them picked up a great deal of coin along the way. You’d be surprised how much a man will pay for a moment’s relaxation when he considers himself rich.”

“But they’re not rich, are they?”

“By whose standards?” Liam asked. “Certainly not by mine, but there are few kings that are rich by my standards. They won’t be retiring wealthy, but they won’t lack for comfort as they work whatever job they choose.”

“Of course they won’t,” Edmund growled. “If they could retire off their earnings here, they wouldn’t have a reason to come back. I’m sure you extorting them for alcohol when they need it most doesn’t help with that.”

“They pay what they know it’s worth, for the celebration, for the forgetfulness, for the right to say they had an ale at Last Respite. They may not be lords, but these delvers are in possession of more coin than they’ve ever seen. If they want to spend it, that’s their decision.”

Edmund sighed. “How much is it?”

“Four silver.”

Edmund blew air through his cheeks, holding back from commenting on the outrageous price as he directed his thoughts elsewhere. “Which means I could sell this token for three if I find the right buyer.”

“Three and a half, even, if you know how to haggle,” Liam said.

“Or,” a gristly voice whispered into Edmund’s ear. “You could give it to me. We’ll call it a favor.”

Something cold and sharp slipped under his helm and pressed into Edmund’s throat, not quite drawing blood but clearly threatening to do so. Edmund gulped and addressed the stranger behind him. “And if I don’t, you’ll slit my throat?”

The blade pressed harder into his neck. A drop of blood dripped down his chest. “What does it feel like?”

Edmund exhaled, keeping his voice as even as possible. “This is a bad idea. I would strongly urge you to reconsider this course of action.”

“I don’t think I will,” the man growled.

Liam beamed. “I told you ale makes humans stupid.”

“Don’t gloat,” Edmund told him. “People don’t like it when you gloat.”

“But I like gloating,” Liam said.

“Shut up!” the man grabbed Edmund’s arm with his free hand. “Who are you talking to?”

“My invisible friend,” Edmund replied. “Say hi to Liam.”

The man growled and yanked Edmund back. His breath reeked. “Just give me the token and I’ll let you live.”

“He didn’t say hi,” Liam grumbled. “How rude.”

Edmund inhaled, his heart racing as he wondered how best to handle the situation. He had no doubt in his ability to outfight his attacker, but the knife was already at his throat. He had abilities he could employ, but the man surely had abilities of his own. He spared a glance to a brazier a few feet away, noting that smoke did waft up from the embers, but it was a thin smoke, a weak smoke.

The Recluse weakened his Madness when surrounded by people.

Edmund opted for another strategy. “Hey, Liam, what do you do to delvers who break the peace in safe zones?”

“Oh, that’s the beauty of it,” Liam replied. “It’s at my discretion. He breaks the safety, he loses it. The moment he slits your throat, I get to do whatever I want with him. That includes letting him go, but let’s both agree that’s no fun.”

“Enough talking!” the man snapped, unable to hear Liam’s comment. “I don’t think you made it this far to die for something so small.”

“Hey!” a bald man with dark skin and leather armor shouted from a dozen feet away. “If you want to fight, do it like a man. If you want to spill blood, do it in the ring. At least one of you should get something from it.”

The would-be thief grumbled at being called out and pulled away from Edmund. “Some folks just can’t leave well enough alone.”

“And some folks don’t know when they’ve had too much to drink,” a second bald man said.

“This isn’t over,” the thief snarled and stormed off. By the time Edmund turned, the only glimpse he got of his attacker was of the dark green hooded cloak on his back.

“Thanks for the help,” Edmund said as he removed his helmet and rubbed at his neck. “You saved that man’s life.”

“Sure looks like we saved yours,” the first man said. “But we’ll take any thanks freely given. Come, sit with us.”

Edmund paused for a moment to appraise his rescuers. Both were men, both bald, and both wore the same loose-fitting garments under boiled-leather armor. Their faces bore deeply similar features, and they even spoke with the same inflections. But for the color of their skin, Edmund might’ve thought them twins.

“I’m Priam,” the dark-skinned man spoke. He nodded his head towards the other man, whose own skin seemed almost unnaturally pale. “This is my brother, Lucius.”

“Lucius Durne,” the pale man said, extending a hand.

“Edmund.” They shook. He glanced back and forth between the two men. “You don’t look like brothers.”

“We do if you look hard enough,” Priam said. “Lucius here was born with a condition that robs his skin of color.”

“I’m a natural born delver.” Lucius grinned. “No sunlight down here to scorch me.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Edmund said, “but I’m afraid I have to keep moving. I’ve much to do.”

“And time in which to do it,” Priam argued. “We’ve been on this floor longer than you, and have information you may find useful. Besides, I think we’re men worth knowing, and unless I miss my guess, you are too.”

“I’m not looking for a party.”

“And we’re not asking you to,” Lucius said. “But you’re a fighter, and you’re a survivor, and I’d wager we’ll run into each other somewhere down the line. Better if we know each other first, eh?”

The logic made sense to Edmund, but it struck him as familiar. He took a moment to realize how well it resembled the same arguments Liam had first made while they’d waited in line together to enter the Eternal Depths—the real Liam, that was, not the dungeon’s avatar that had taken his face. Edmund remembered all too well what’d happened to that Liam.

He narrowed his gaze at the Durne brothers, appraising them not as men, but as fighters. They stood stably, their feet solid upon the floor. Their motions were smooth and deliberate, denoting a sense of control over their bodies Edmund rarely saw. More interesting still, they carried no weapons, meaning they were either stupid enough to leave them at their table, or competent enough not to need them. Edmund didn’t want to think of what kind of man fought through the Depths barehanded.

They might’ve spoken similar words to his dead friend, but the brothers Durne were not Liam. They carried themselves like men who knew what they were doing, men Edmund wouldn’t want to insult.

“Alright,” Edmund finally said. “Let’s sit for a bit, exchange information.”

“Excellent,” Priam said. “Follow me.”

The brothers led Edmund through the crowd, weaving past the line for the bar to eventually arrive at a table right up against the railing. Five delvers already sat there.

“Edmund, these are the Dragon’s Claws. Dragon’s Claws, this is Edmund.”

Edmund blinked at the full party. “You call yourselves the Dragon’s Claws?”

A muscular woman all the way on the table’s far side answered. “You call yourself Edmund?”

The Durne brothers laughed.

“Don’t mind Elya,” a bespectacled man in blue robes spoke. “She thinks she’s funny.”

“I know the type,” Edmund groaned.

Elya punched her companion in the arm. “All parties need a name. Ours is the Dragon’s Claws. Yours is Edmund, apparently.”

“I fight alone,” Edmund said, stepping over the bench to sit at the table. “Edmund is my name.” He looked towards the muscular woman. “Yours is Elya, I take it. And the rest of you are…?”

“Christopher,” the robed man offered. “I’m the party mage.”

“Leah,” spoke a blonde girl so short Edmund might’ve thought she had gnomish blood. She patted the set of knives strapped to her chest. “Melee damage-dealer.”

“I’m Ron,” a dark-haired stick of a man offered, resting a hand on the hilt of a mace that looked to weigh more than he did. “I’m the healer.”

“Myra doesn’t talk,” Christopher said, gesturing to a tall woman with a crossbow on each hip, “but she can hit a pea from a mile away with those crossbows of hers.”

The woman grinned wide enough to reveal a jagged stub where her tongue should’ve been.

“And of course you’ve met Elya,” Christopher continued, “our tank.”

Edmund nodded at each of them. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Is it?” Leah asked, her eyes narrow. “You don’t look happy.”

Behind him, Liam burst into a fit of laughter that would’ve been loud enough to draw the attention of every single delver in the place had they been able to hear it. Instead, Edmund suffered alone. “I’m told I rarely do.”

“I think I can do something about that,” a voice offered from behind the table. Edmund turned to find an unarmored woman holding a tray full of ales. “Tokens or silver, please.”

Edmund flipped his token over in his hand as the others offered up theirs, considering what potential tool he’d be able to buy with the silver it was worth. Could a mug of ale ever be worth such a sum?

His gaze flicked back and forth across the visages of his table-mates, these new acquaintances he’d found for himself. None had hesitated to hand over their tokens. When the waitress extended her open palm to him, Edmund found himself doing the same.

The ale alone might’ve never been worth the silver it’d cost, but perhaps in the presence of these seven capable individuals, it’d be worth the world.

“A toast!” Lucius called, raising his tankard with a straight arm. “To our cohort! Let us behave with kindness towards each other when our paths inevitably cross outside the boundaries of peace.”

Calls of cheers sounded throughout the table as the delvers raised their cups, a gesture Edmund mirrored with his own muttered toast. He took a sip of his ale, finding it far more potent than he might’ve expected. He wondered if his months underground had reduced his resistance to the stuff or if Liam served it strong on purpose. His intuition leaned towards the latter.

The conversation began in earnest from there as the gathered parties shared stories of their adventures so far. Priam told of chasing down a wild horse to snatch the key to a hidden chest tied to its mane, Lucius of fighting off a fire breathing tortoise with his bare hands.

The brothers, it seemed, had learned to fight at a monastery out in The Burning Sands. They’d fled west to seek their fortune and an escape to the harm the brutal desert sun dealt to Lucius’s pale skin. The Depths had promised both.

The Dragon’s Claws were a more eclectic group, monster-hunters for hire that’d found each other at famed hub for misfits that was the commission board. They’d come to the Depths to put everything they’d learned roaming the wilderness to the test.

Edmund at first tried to hide himself in his ale when it came time to share his own story, but Priam and Elya teamed up on him to coerce the tale out. He kept it brief.

“I came in through the fodder line with a group they paired me with that same day. I was the only one to survive the first floor, and I’ve been on my own ever since.”

“You must be a skilled warrior,” Lucius offered, “to make it so far on your own.”

Leah looked up at him. “Where’d you learn to fight?”

“Here, if you’d believe it,” Edmund replied. “That first floor was… brutal. Horrific, even. I barely survived it. My party didn’t.” He let out a breath. “After that first fight, I knew I’d never survive the second floor, not as I was, so I didn’t go.”

Ron blinked. “You left to train more?”

“I stayed. I waited for the rats to respawn—fewer this time for the smaller party—and I killed them again. Then again. Over and over and over until I got it right.” Edmund took a sip of ale. “I guess part of me was taking out my anger on the monsters in front of me, but another part knew that I’d never survive this place unless I took everything the dungeon gave me, and that means more than Aspects and loot.”

The table went quiet. Edmund took another sip of ale, beginning to blame it for his truthfulness.

“Thrax, man,” Elya broke the silence. “You’ve got some drive.”

“Aye,” Lucius added. “I would’ve run out of patience and either left the dungeon or died on the second floor.”

“There’s nothing for me up there,” Edmund muttered, his words barely surviving over the noise of the tavern around them. The others leaned in to listen close. “All that’s left is to keep pushing forward, keep moving down, deeper and deeper into the darkness until one of us finishes it.” Edmund finished his ale. “Sometimes I don’t think either of us are going to make it out of this alive. Maybe that would be for the best.”

Silence hung in the air at Edmund’s speech, the cacophony of the tavern around them somehow fading into a distant blur beneath the weight of his words. He knew he shouldn’t have said that the moment he set down his tankard, but despite himself he’d let the truth slip out. A part of Edmund felt lighter for it.

Christopher leaned in, his voice barely a whisper as he asked the question on everyone’s minds. “Either of who, Edmund? Who are you down here with?”

Behind him, Liam cracked a smile. “I did tell you not to drink the ale. Ale and secrets make for poor bedfellows.”

“It’s…” Edmund sighed, his ale-fogged mind failing to come up with a good explanation. Could there even be one? These delvers might’ve resented him if he revealed his true purpose. They’d each profited handsomely from the Depths thus far, and it seemed none of them had truly felt its cost. Not like he had.

The tavern itself came to his rescue, as a chorus of cheers exploded first from the lower level before spreading to the upper. All around him Edmund watched delvers rise from their seats to crowd around the wooden railing overlooking the floor below. “What’s going on?”

“This isn’t like other hubs,” Priam explained. “To leave, you have to spill blood in the ring, either a monster’s, or that of another delver.”

Edmund stood and looked over Leah’s short form to gaze down at the lower level. Sure enough, a ring of stones sat inlaid in the floor, a mirror to those that defined the safe zones on previous hub floors. This time, it was the inside that was unsafe.

A man stood on either side of the ring, one with an axe and one with a sword, both with looks of rage on their face. Edmund noted a sway to the both of them, the ale clearly making its mark upon their minds.

The swordsman charged. The axeman sidestepped. The swordsman pivoted and swept his blade up to defend, but his motions were clumsy with the drink.

The axeman buried his blade in the swordsman’s neck.

Cheers from the crowd mingled with the axeman’s cry of victory and the familiar chime of a cleared floor echoing in the air. The axeman showboated a bit, walking a circle around the ring and egging the tavern into applauding louder before he turned his attention to the gold chest at the ring’s center. He withdrew some kind of necklace and returned to his table, his way to the next floor now open.

Edmund shuddered. “That’s why he gives out free ale,” he muttered. “He wants to start bar fights with lethal consequences.”

“What’d you expect?” Elya asked. “Get a bunch of drunk fighters in a room together, of fucking course they’re going to fight.”

“But why would anyone choose to fight another delver?” Edmund asked. “If you could fight a monster instead, why not—”

“Because a monster’s unpredictable,” Christopher cut him off. “With a monster you don’t know what you’re going to get. You don’t have time to craft a battle plan or control the encounter. For some, fighting a delver’s the smart move.”

Leah nodded. “Not all delvers are created equal. Some builds are better for one-on-one fighting than others. A group like ours, we’d take a monster any day, because some of us—” she glanced at Christopher— “wouldn’t stand a chance in a one-on-one fight. The Durnes here could probably each take down a delver if they chose wisely, and looking at you I’d bet you could beat every single person in this room.”

“You’ll be fighting a monster,” Elya said with confidence. “I’d wager good silver you could ask every delver in this room and not find anyone willing to step into the ring with you.”

Edmund paled, his eyes widening in surprise. “Really?”

Leah laughed. “You’re a scary motherfucker.”

Edmund looked away. It didn’t matter, really. Truth be told, he didn’t want to fight another delver. The idea of killing a human being just to progress further into the Depths felt fundamentally wrong to him. A part of him argued that’s exactly what he’d done to that poor man on the fourteenth floor. Edmund tried not to follow that line of thought.

With one last lingering glance at the fighting ring, Edmund pulled away from the railing and returned to his seat. He wasn’t against fighting a monster in the ring, but the crowd of onlookers would weaken him. The Recluse alone was enough of a reason to avoid it if possible.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“What about hidden exits?” he eventually asked. “Are there other ways out?”

“There’s a cellar,” Lucius said. “The staircase over there goes a floor lower than the ring.”

Edmund raised an eyebrow. “Do people go down there?”

“Some,” Leah said with a shrug. “None come back.”

“What about lodgings and shops? There’ve gotta be vendors around here somewhere, right?”

“Upstairs,” Ron said. “There are rooms with cots and a few folks selling supplies, but nothing like the other hubs.”

“There were rooms with cots,” Elya corrected. “The kingsguards have snatched them all up.”

Edmund blinked. “If there aren’t enough can’t the dungeon just add more?”

“Not while there are people on the floor,” Liam explained. “Every once in a while I’ll kick everyone out and redecorate, but not because a few delvers are too self-important to sleep on the ground.”

“I don’t know,” Elya said, unable to hear Liam’s reply. “It just doesn’t.”

“Speaking of the kingsguards,” Edmund spoke under his breath, leaning in to keep the conversation private. “You wouldn’t happen to have met the other member of our cohort, have you?”

Priam grinned. “Oh, you’ve found someone else you think is going to go far down here?”

Lucius’s scowl clashed with his brother’s expression. “He has, and I get the impression we’re not going to like who it is.”

Priam’s eyes widened with realization. He cursed.

Elya laughed. Leah chuckled. Myra grimaced.

“You have seen her then,” Christopher said. “And you think this princess of theirs is a fighter.”

“Good of one as any of us,” Edmund replied, “and whatever the guards say, she’s certainly not here against her will.”

“Give it enough time and she’ll be gone against her will,” Elya said. “This isn’t some massive desert where you can disappear into the dunes. Moment she steps foot on this floor, they’ve got her.”

“You understand, then, why I have an interest in this cellar you’ve mentioned.”

Lucius abruptly stood, the bench scraping against the floor from the motion. “I want no part in this. I think you'll do well down here, Edmund. You’re definitely the most driven person I’ve ever met, and I’ll be happy to share information with you or work together should we find each other on a later floor, but I don’t want any trouble with the kingsguards.”

Priam nodded and stood by his brother. “I think perhaps it’s time we looked to face the ring. Good luck to each of you in the trials to come.”

Edmund nodded his acceptance of their words and bid them well on their way, making clear his hope they’d see each other again. As the brothers turned to leave, he also stood.

“I need to do some shopping and get some rest,” he told the Dragon’s Claws. “Thank you for sharing your table with me. It’s been… some time since I’ve shared a drink with friends.”

“Friends, then,” Christopher said, offering a hand. Edmund shook it.

One by one he wished the party well, expressed his good intent should they meet again, and thanked them for their company. He walked away from the table tallying up the value of the token he’d spent on ale, pondering its true worth.

Could whatever tool he might’ve purchased with those few silver coins match the companionship he’d earned? If the Durne brothers were right in their perception of the delvers’ skill—which Edmund wanted to believe as they’d evaluated him as a force to be reckoned with—the odds were good he’d come across them again. Carrying an extra torch or bandage or length of rope may or may not make as big a difference as having an immediate bond with the delvers he encountered.

Both of his last run-ins with other delvers had ended in death. Amelia’s party had mistrusted him to the point all but he and the princess had died, and of the trio he’d met on the fourteenth floor, only one had made it out alive. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen the aforementioned survivor in the tavern yet. He hoped she’d already left the dungeon.

Edmund weaved through the crowd towards the staircase, thoughts milling about in his head as he moved. Liam put an end to that.

“In case you were wondering,” the dungeon said, “and I’m sure you weren’t, entry to the bathhouse upstairs costs five copper.”

“I don’t smell any worse than any other delver here,” Edmund muttered back as he mounted the staircase. “If you have a problem with smelly delvers, maybe you should be handing out bath tokens along with those ale ones.”

“I tried. People kept hoarding them.”

“Then why charge at all?”

Liam shrugged. “Limited capacity.”

Edmund squinted at him. “Then make more capacity. You’re a dungeon.” He paused in his ascent up the stairs. “This is about the money. The less they have when they leave, the more likely they are to come back.”

“Or I just don’t want to kick everyone out to build a bigger bathhouse.” Liam turned and gestured widely to the tavern at large. “Look how much fun everyone is having. I couldn’t bring myself to put an end to that.”

A bloodcurdling scream echoed up from the lower floor, reaching Edmund’s ears just long enough to send a chill down his spine before it was silenced. He glanced flatly at Liam. “Fun.”

“Exactly.” Liam beamed.

With a sigh Edmund turned and continued his way upstairs, finding himself in a round chamber with two hallways stretching away from it. He imagined one led to the bathhouse and the other to the lodgings. For the time being, he had interest in neither.

Some two dozen market stalls lined the space, each occupied by a merchant selling anything from essential supplies to pointless luxuries. Edmund stopped at a counter for the former.

He bought a bedroll before anything else, allowing himself this little comfort at the cost of a few silver and space within his cloudkith satchel. He could’ve explained it to himself in any number of ways, from espousing the value of sleep to avoiding stiffness in the morning that might’ve hindered his ability to fight, but to be entirely truthful, Edmund had grown tired of sleeping on the ground. A bedroll was no portable camp, but he’d need to be far richer to ever afford such a luxury, and richer still to justify its purchase.

The rest of his silver went towards supplies with much more quantifiable value.

He bought six torches, knowing that he still had another hub between him and the fortieth floor beyond which the accords allowed for floors in full darkness. Partial darkness, he’d found, could be just as worth dispelling. He forwent the flint to light them, saving the silver when a simple Firebolt did the job just as well.

Next came a knife, a simple blade he strapped to his hip as more of a tool than a weapon, though Edmund knew well it would be wielded as one soon enough. Having access to a blade that wasn’t coated in poison posed a number of uses, first and foremost the ability to butcher kills should he find himself without soil for his rootmother’s sigil. For a similar reason he purchased a water skin, filling it up and packing it away for emergencies.

He bought a supply of bandages and basic poultices for the off chance he suffered an injury that bled or rotted faster than Perseverance could heal, but the true—and most expensive—prize was a set of five potions of curing. The Island gave him some resistance to ongoing effects, but in the case he ever found himself surrounded by too many people or afflicted with something powerful enough to overcome its protection, he’d want a back up.

Edmund considered, for a time, also purchasing a set of health or mana potions should he find himself injured and without the time for Perseverance to work, but the price for each turned him away. Such supplies, it seemed, were in far higher demand than he would’ve liked. Instead, he spent the last of his silver on a bundle of hardtack. Liam had already threatened to send him to floors with no soil and inedible monsters. Edmund would have to be prepared.

All said and done, he came away with a bulging satchel and exactly two copper to his name—not enough for a bath, but suspiciously exactly enough for something else. Edmund tried to convince himself it was a coincidence, that Liam couldn’t possibly have planned out the exact amount of silver to drop to guide Edmund down this particular set of purchases to this particular amount of remaining coin. Besides, Liam would’ve given him seven copper, so he could’ve afforded a bath as well, right?

Nonetheless, when Edmund turned away from the supply shop he found a one-eyed man selling kebabs that nobody bought. With a sigh, he approached.

“Well, would you look who it is,” William greeted him with a toothy grin. “Can I interest you in a kebab? Two copper.”

Edmund shut his eyes and took a deep breath before he finally slid his last two coins across the counter. “I’ll take one.”

“Good lad.” William slapped him affectionately on the shoulder, coincidentally—or not so coincidentally—directly over his challenger’s mark. He handed Edmund a kebab. “How’ve you been?”

“He’s been miserable,” Liam answered for him. “As always.”

“Well that’s cause he’s got you whispering in his ear,” William snapped back.

“No, no, that can’t be right.” Liam rubbed his chin in mock thoughtfulness. “I’m a delight.”

“Aye, that you are,” William said, handing a second kebab over to Liam, one the dungeon clearly hadn’t paid for. “A miserable one at that.”

Edmund remained silent as he ate his kebab, happy to watch the exchange play out in front of him. Every word the two spoke to each other made for another hint, another clue as to William’s true nature. He waited until Liam finally stopped talking to eat his own kebab before speaking up himself. “So William, how did you come to work in the Depths?”

“Same way anyone else does, I suppose. Through the merchant’s door.”

Liam snorted.

Edmund glared. “You know what I meant.”

William grinned. “Just a little joke. I was a delver first, like you. Made it to the fiftieth before my partner died. That’s when your friend here offered to swap my delver’s mark for a merchant’s mark, and here I am.”

Edmund raised an eyebrow. “You made it to the fiftieth floor, and now you sell kebabs? What happened to your loot?”

“Oh, I still have it,” the man said with a smile. “That’s why I sell kebabs. If I needed the money, I’d do what the rest of this lot do and sell supplies at a markup. But I like making kebabs and I like talking with the kind of folk who stop by for a chat with the kebab man.”

Edmund glanced around the room, pointedly highlighting the absence of other customers. “I’ve never seen anyone else stop at your stall.”

“Means you’ve never seen anyone else worth talking to.” William winked, his glass eye wobbling disconcertingly back and forth with the motion.

“Is that why you just happen to be on every hub floor I visit? Thrax, last floor you weren’t even in the market.”

William shrugged. “Prime spots are hard to come by. Sometimes a poor old kebab seller has to make do.”

Edmund spared a look towards Liam, who seemed to be content watching the conversation unfold with a wolfish grin on his face. Edmund didn’t like the look of it. “Is it a coincidence I had exactly two copper left over after buying supplies?”

“Ooh, the direct approach.” Liam said.

“You’ll have to ask him that,” William answered. “I’m just the kebab man.”

Ignoring the fact that William was very certainly not just the kebab man, Edmund raised an eyebrow at Liam.

“Coincidence, divine providence, a touch of meddling, who’s to say why things turn out the way they do?”

“You are,” Edmund said sharply. “It’s your dungeon.”

“And a damn good one at that,” Liam said, “so full of intrigue and mystery.”

Edmund groaned. Liam smiled. William laughed.

“Thanks for the kebab,” Edmund eventually said. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you again on the twenty-fifth floor?”

“Like your friend said,” William answered, “who’s to say?”

Edmund let out a quiet breath and turned away, looking towards the hall down which he’d find the bedrooms. His mind replayed the conversation as he walked, trying and failing to read any deeper meaning into William’s words.

The story about being a high level delver made some amount of sense, and along with the lack of anything too suspicious occurring it gave Edmund some comfort that perhaps William was to some extent as he seemed. The man was certainly hiding something, but the more Edmund thought about it, the more Edmund concluded the kebab seller to be a man with secrets rather than some construct of Liam’s.

He didn’t rule that latter out, of course, but he at least felt it less likely. Then again, likelihoods seemed to mean little in Liam’s world.

He’d moved on to wondering how he might barter for a place to sleep when a commotion at the stairway pulled him from his thoughts. A clamor of commands and shouts of protest echoed to Edmund’s ear, their words muffled in the din of the tavern, yet the emotions behind them clear. Luckily, the distinct sound of a sword leaving its sheath remained absent.

Edmund made it three steps towards the crest of the stairs before the source of the hubbub reached his eyes. He froze. The indignant cries of protest ceased. For a horrible moment, the world went silent as Edmund’s eyes met first Amelia’s, then those of the two kingsguards that dragged her up the stairs.

“I said unhand me!” the shouting continued. “I am your princess! I’ll have your heads for this!”

She squirmed against the grip of the two guards, but within their grasp her superior agility offered little in the face of their strength. She glanced once more over the crowd at Edmund, the message in her eyes no longer one of shock, but one of clear direction.

Help me.

For all the smoke failed to fill the tavern, for all the company of others bestowed a sense of normalcy, for all The Recluse suppressed Edmund’s most powerful Aspect, then and there, Edmund Montgomery Ahab did something that even he would admit was truly, confirmably, certifiably, insane.

He obeyed.

The Smoke Lash began to form around his wrist before his mind even came to its decision. By the time he shoved a passerby out of his way and made his first step, the whip was already flying towards its target.

The guard let out a startled yelp as the whip struck his forearm, but he didn’t release his grip on Amelia.

So Edmund pulled.

The kingsguard and Amelia alike lurched forward, the former stumbling into the handrail and the latter into him. By the time the guard regained his composure, Edmund was upon him.

He slammed into the soldier with his left shoulder, finally forcing the man to release his grip on the princess as he tumbled down the stairs. Before Edmund could even look at the second guard, Amelia had knocked her unconscious.

“Follow me,” Edmund barked, taking the lead down towards the lower floors. He kept his weapons undrawn, not wanting to risk killing anyone.

“Where are we going?”

“The basement! There’s gotta be a hidden exit down—shit,” Edmund cursed as four more guards rounded the bend in the stairs below them. They drew their swords.

“This way!” Amelia called, vaulting over the handrail to fall the eight remaining feet to entrance level.

Edmund followed, stumbling into an intoxicated bystander as he landed, but keeping his feet.

“Stop them!” a guard called from behind as they clustered at the stairs.

Amelia darted across the deck up to the rail overlooking the level with the ring. She stopped short up against it, gazing wide-eyed at the twenty-foot fall.

Edmund didn’t stop. Carrying his momentum, he wrapped an arm around Amelia’s waist and carried her up and over the handrail. Together, they plummeted.

Edmund waited for half a heartbeat before activating his windstep, solidifying the air beneath his foot to slow their fall. He landed hard on his hands and knees in the center of the ring. Amelia somehow landed on her feet.

“Liam!” Edmund shouted as he scrambled to his feet. “Get us a monster!” He reached into his satchel and slipped his helmet back on.

“Say the magic word,” Liam prompted, appearing suddenly just outside the stone ring.

“Just fucking do it!”

“Eh, good enough,” Liam said with a shrug.

The ground began to rumble beneath Edmund’s feet.

Kingsguards pushed through the dense crowd, their swords drawn and their visors lowered. Edmund rounded on them as they neared the ring. “No closer!” he shouted.

Still the guards approached.

“You’re still alive because I don’t want to risk the dungeon’s wrath by breaking the peace,” Edmund continued. He singled out the nearest guard, holding up a halting hand before the man could take another step. “Anyone who steps into this ring becomes our ticket out of here, you understand?”

The guards faltered.

The ground quaked again.

“Liam, where’s that monster?” Edmund asked as he strapped on his shield and drew his spear.

“It’s coming, it’s coming. These things take time. I can’t just pop a monster into existence without some kind of dramatic entrance. These people are here for a show, Edmund.”

Keeping her back turned to him so she could watch their flank, Amelia spoke under her breath. “Who’s Liam?”

“I’ll tell you later. Right now we need to—” Edmund cut off as the tavern shook a third time. The torches on the wall and braziers on the floor flickered out as it did, casting the space in deep shadow interspersed with intermittent periods of light. In the chaos of it all, a portal cut through the air between Edmund and the exit.

“Thrax,” Edmund cursed as he recognized the portal. “Now?”

Liam beamed. “Now.”

A slender humanoid in green and brown armor stepped through the portal, her helm bearing four slits through which her pointed ears could reach. Most importantly to Edmund, however, was the blood red armor that protected the ring finger of her right hand. Now of all times, Liam had delivered to him the second piece to the Dread Gauntlet of Kor’Ilinesh. Weakened as it was, Madness could still give him a name.

Commander Fyria

“Can you take her?” Edmund asked as he glanced over the twin longswords the elven commander wielded.

“With your help? Definitely. On my own?” Amelia drew her daggers. “If I have to.”

“I’ll help as much as I can,” Edmund said, “but someone has to babysit these guards to stop them from doing anything stupid.” He raised his voice for those final words, making sure the kingsguards heard them.

Amelia didn’t question him, recognizing the need to keep herself away from the edges of the ring. With any luck, the guards would be too afraid of getting her killed to dare interfering with the fight. All Edmund had to do was dissuade them from attempting to help.

What Edmund didn’t want to admit was his fear the elf would outmatch him, weakened as he was by the crowd’s interaction with Solitude and its confluences.

He kept his distance as Amelia darted in, his eyes darting back and forth along the edge of the ring, ready to react to any attempt at interference. He tracked the fight behind him in his mind, the rhythm of footsteps and clashing of blades reaching his enhanced ears and materializing into an image in his mind’s eye thanks to his sigil of the azure fox. He spared an idle thought for the beast before refocusing to launch a Firebolt at the foot of a guard that slipped a bit too far forward.

A cry of rage echoed out as Amelia scored a blow and stepped away, moving to stand back to back with Edmund. “I’ve got her poisoned,” she whispered. “Just a matter of time now.”

“We’ll have to move quick once she drops,” Edmund said. “The fear of getting you killed is the only thing keeping the guards back.”

“We should maneuver towards the exit.”

Edmund nodded. “Once she’s down, you need to go. Don’t wait. Don’t delay. I’ll be right behind—”

“Move!”

Edmund dove left, catching a bolt of something on his shield. The impact knocked him out of his roll, forcing him to scramble to his feet.

“Thrax damnit!” Amelia shouted. “She’s got magic!”

Edmund didn’t get a chance to reply as four guards raised their swords and stepped over the line into the ring. He leveled his spear at them. “Don’t do this. I can’t help her if I’m busy fighting you.”

“The king’s ordered us not to return without his daughter,” one said. “With you out of the way, there’s a whole squad of kingsguards to help her.”

Edmund growled, “I don’t want to hurt—”

“Move!” Amelia shouted again from across the battlefield.

Edmund leapt without hesitation, diving left into a roll to dodge the incoming spell. He looked up just in time to watch the spell strike the leftmost guard.

A dozen javelins woven together into a single multi-headed projectile as red as blood pierced the man’s stomach. He collapsed with the pained gurgle of a pierced lung. The other guards faltered, staring wide-eyed at Edmund, Commander Fyria, and their fallen comrade in turn.

“Help him!” Edmund barked at them. “Get him out of here!”

A coalition of guards and onlookers reached into the ring to drag the mortally wounded man from danger. Edmund snarled at the remaining guards. “Nobody needs to die. Heal your man and let us go.”

Another guard leveled his sword at Edmund. “I don’t think we—”

“She’s down!”

With a thud the elven commander hit the floor. A chime rang out. The door swung open.

Edmund spun. “Go!” He shouted, already sprinting for Fyria’s corpse. “I’ll see you further down!”

Amelia darted right past the golden loot chest on the floor to reach the exit, pausing for a moment just before entering the darkness between levels. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll see you down there.”

And with that, she was gone.

Edmund slid on his knees up to Fyria’s body, frantically tugging on it to get the elf’s hand out from under her. He’d barely managed it by the time the guards reached him.

Keeping his fists clenched to mask his prize, Edmund allowed the soldiers to grab him and yank him upright. The tavern stood silent as a man in lieutenant’s regalia stalked into the ring.

“I’d kill you right now,” he sneered, “but the king will want to see the man who stole his daughter from him and sent her into danger.”

He went on, addressing both Edmund and the crowd, but the former ignored him. Uninterested in the man’s speech, Edmund shut his eyes and envisioned his constellation, taking this moment he had to select his newest Aspect. Having learned, by then, to plan his decisions ahead of time, it didn’t take long to choose War and The Rift.

Tier 4 Aspect: Rebellion - Gold+ Resonance

  Level 1 - Grants resistance to mind controlling effects. Deal bonus damage to enemies above your level.

Edmund blinked in surprise. He’d expected War and The Rift to average to silver resonance, not gold. He must’ve had some affinity for Rebellion he hadn’t imagined. Given the string of decisions he’d just made, he supposed that made some kind of sense.

The Aspect itself felt powerful. Given how low-leveled he’d been when he first set foot in the Eternal Depths, pretty much anything and everything he encountered should’ve been above his level. He’d have to ask Liam to confirm, but Edmund got the impression Rebellion’s buff would always be active.

Edmund’s eyes flicked open as the room again fell silent. He could feel the crowd’s gaze boring into him from all angles, judging his every move.

“I said,” the lieutenant repeated, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

Edmund set his jaw and raised his head and spoke aloud so every guard, delver, and merchant in the place could hear his words. “I want you to tell your king there’re only two ways his daughter leaves this place alive: because she’s finished what she came here to do, or because I did.”

Before they could react to his words, Edmund tightened his grip on the gauntlet piece in his hand, set his sights on the open exit, and Broke Through.

A hideous crunch echoed through the tavern as the force of Edmund’s newest ability shattered the hands of the guards that held him, but he didn’t remain to see the damage. The skill imparted him with the momentum of a full sprint, a pace Edmund found himself forced to match lest he stumble and fall to his face.

He didn’t stop. He didn’t slow. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t spare a second glance for the loot chest on the floor or the brothers Durne in the crowd or the Dragon’s Claws on the upper level.

Edmund Montgomery Ahab, paragon of Madness, The Crimson Hand, fugitive from the crown of Linaria, escaped the guards’ clutches, and charged headlong into the darkness.

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Edmund Montgomery Ahab, The Crimson Hand

Aspects Unlocked: 16

Tier 1 Aspect: War - Gray+ Resonance

  Level 4 - Provides a limited increase to all damage dealt. Provides a limited decrease to all damage taken.

Tier 1 Aspect: Elements - Gray Resonance

  Level 6 - Provides access to the Firebolt spell.

Tier 1 Aspect: Solitude - Red Resonance

  Level 8 - Gain increased constitution while fighting alone.

Tier 1 Aspect: Perseverance - Gray Resonance

  Level 8 - Gain health regeneration.

Tier 1 Aspect: Madness - Prismatic Resonance

  Level 11 - See beyond reality. Touch the unreal. Shape your world.

Tier 2 Aspect: Fervor - Gold+ Resonance

  Level 1 - Empowers the effects of Madness and War for each consecutive second spent in battle.

Tier 2 Aspect: Sorcery - Gold Resonance

  Level 1 - Provides access to the Smoke Lash spell.

Tier 2 Aspect: Obsession - Gold Resonance

  Level 2 - Gain strength and agility for each consecutive day spent pursuing your obsession. Gain mana for each consecutive month spent pursuing your obsession.

Tier 2 Aspect: The Recluse - Gold Resonance

  Level 2 - Empower the effects of Madness while alone. Lessen the effects of Madness while accompanied.

Tier 2 Aspect: The Island - Gray Resonance

  Level 5 - Grants resistance to over-time effects while in groups of two or fewer.

Tier 3 Aspect: Focus - Silver Resonance

  Level 1 - Doubles spell damage when attacking a single target.

Tier 3 Aspect: The Philosopher - Silver+ Resonance

  Level 1 - Ponder the nature of reality.

Tier 3 Aspect: The Rift - Gold Resonance

  Level 4 - Provides access to the Rend active ability.

Tier 4 Aspect: The Fissure - Silver Resonance

  Level 2 - Provides access to the Magma Fissure spell.

Tier 4 Aspect: Rebellion - Gold+ Resonance

  Level 1 - Grants resistance to mind controlling effects. Deal bonus damage to enemies above your level.

Tier 5 Aspect: The Breach - Bronze+ Resonance

  Level 1 - Provides access to the Break Through active ability.

Delver’s Mark of the Challenger

Empowers nearby dungeon monsters. Significantly increases the value of loot chests you open. Slightly increases the resonance of Aspects you unlock.

The Crimson Hand

Grants minor resistance to piercing damage. Bestows ownership of the Dread Gauntlet of Kor’Ilinesh.

Trailblazer’s Sigil of the Azure Apprentice

The third step on the Path of the Azure Fox. Increases agility. Grants a single windstep. Increases positional awareness.

Trailblazer bonus: Sharpens hearing.

Trailblazer’s Sigil of the Rootmother

Non-intelligent Strethian lifeforms will treat you as an ally. Gain the ability to draw water and nutrients from fertile soil.

Trailblazer bonus: draw water and nutrients from all soil.

Cloudkith Sigil

Cloud-based lifeforms will treat you as an ally. Gain enhanced perception through vision-reducing effects.