In the bustling city of Heliopharos, it was nearing something of a cloudy afternoon. That was a rare treat in this section of the world, but a welcome one, providing a much-needed respite for those who scurried about, tending to their daily tasks. And among those busy souls, one stood out—a servant of the Underpharaoh.

This servant, a well-meaning but somewhat dim woman named Sabra, had been given a task of utmost importance, one that would require all her cunning and resourcefulness. Though she was unsure as to its purpose or overall value, she was to set up a runic Ka instrument in an area where a low-level dungeon could be found. But alas, active dungeons of such nature had proven rather elusive, and Sabra found herself in a bit of a quandary.

As she wandered the crowded streets of Heliopharos, she mused aloud on the predicament she found herself in, her thoughts not unlike a ferret attempting to untangle a mess of yarn.

"Of all the people the Boss could have chosen, why me?" Sabra lamented, sighing heavily. "I can barely tell the difference between a dungeon and a camel stable."

She had spent the better part of a week trudging along, trying to find any and all information that she could, but strangely, no one seemed to be able to assist her. She’d thought she’d been getting somewhere with the surly bartender at the inn on the southside of town—at least, until that group of explorers had gone and ruined it by being loud, rowdy and breaking all the furniture, forcing Sabra to flee into the streets to avoid flying pieces of improperly aloft wood.

It was then that an idea struck her like a bolt of divine inspiration. It was so clear to her that she was angry with herself that she hadn’t thought of it earlier. Who better to consult about dungeon stuff than those who had once traversed the perilous depths of the dungeons themselves—the Rahhalah? They would surely know of any active low-tier dungeons within the Upper Realm.

Sabra's first stop was a small, cluttered shop owned by an elderly retired Rahhalah named Abasi. The walls were lined with dusty relics and artifacts, each with its own tale of adventure and daring. But as Sabra inquired about the low-level dungeons, Abasi merely chuckled, his laughter a dry, wheezing sound.

"Child," he said, his voice as creaky as the door to his shop, "any of those dungeons that still exist have been plundered and emptied years ago. You'd have better luck finding a jackal in the palace than an active low-level dungeon these days."

Undeterred, Sabra thanked Abasi and continued her quest. After getting a similar welcome from the handful of other contacts she knew gravitated in Rahhalah circles, she felt it was time to switch strategies. She decided to pay a visit to the less reputable side of Heliopharos, where those dealing in illicit dungeon-plundered artifacts lurked in the shadows, their wares as questionable as their morals.

In the dimly lit recesses of a dingy tavern, Sabra encountered a one-eyed man with a penchant for dramatic pauses and exaggerated tales. He called himself Horus, though Sabra highly doubted the accuracy of his moniker.

"You seek the secrets of the dungeons, eh?" he whispered conspiratorially, his breath smelling strongly of spiced wine. "Well, I may know of a place, but it'll cost ya."

Sabra sighed, reaching into her purse and producing a handful of gleaming coins. The man's eye widened, and he eagerly snatched them up, greedily pocketing the currency.

"There's an old, forgotten dungeon far to the south," he said, his voice suddenly taking on a more serious tone. "But beware, for it is said to be cursed, and none who enter ever return."

Sabra rolled her eyes and mumbled to herself, "Cursed, you say? Well, that's just perfect. Why not send the most gullible servant to find a cursed dungeon? What could possibly go wrong?"

It was nearly twenty minutes—or two drinks and three more coins later—that she was able to understand that this mysterious and dangerously cursed abode of evil the man was describing was actually the home of his ex-wife, a fact that Sabra found very frustrating. Especially when he excused himself to the toilet and she watched him escape quite inexpertly through a window directly behind the bar.

As she continued her search, Sabra found herself conversing with beggars and street performers, merchants and cutthroats, each with their own version of the truth. But no matter how many people she questioned, the elusive low-level dungeon remained as hidden to her as the Boss’ reasons for sending her on this mission.

Sabra slumped down on a nearby bench, the weight of her task pressing down upon her like the desert sun. The Boss had entrusted her with this mission, and she was starting to feel the pressure.

"Why must the world be so difficult?" she lamented, rubbing her temples. "What cruel twist of fate led me to this moment?"

Her musings were interrupted by a gentle voice, filled with concern. "Are you alright, miss?"

Sabra looked up to see a girl, likely no older than ten (though, in all honesty, Sabra was terrible at guessing the ages of children). The girl had wide, curious eyes and a friendly smile.

"Why do you ask?" Sabra inquired, a bit taken aback by the girl's sudden appearance.

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"Well," the girl replied, "you looked tired and, um, a bit depressed. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Sabra had to admit to herself that she was indeed tired and depressed, but she didn't want to worry the girl.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said with a forced smile. "Just a long day, that's all."

The girl nodded, and they fell into conversation.

"My name is Iset," she said. "I'm new to the city—only been here a few months, actually, and I don't know many people yet. So, I'm just trying to put myself out there, you know?"

Sabra raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you in a new city when you're only... eight?" she guessed, still terrible with ages.

The girl laughed, shaking her head.

"I'm actually fourteen,” she said. “And I'm in Heliopharos because, well… I was recently accepted into the House of Dawn."

Sabra's eyes widened at the mention of the prestigious institution. The House of Dawn was well-known for its rigorous training and education of the brightest young minds in the two realms. She reflected a moment on the six-year-old girl's words and wondered what it would be like to be a part of such an esteemed place.

I’ll bet there’s a lot of scrolls in that House of Dawn, she thought to herself. Some might have words in ‘em, or even long strings of words with information. Those are the types of scrolls I need to solve this issue!

Perhaps Iset might know something that could help her with her task, but she hesitated to involve the young girl in her troubles.

Sabra couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this chance encounter was more than mere coincidence. Perhaps this young girl, whose name she now knew was…Inlet, held the key to solving her problem and locating the elusive low-level dungeon she so desperately sought. But how could she ask for the girl's help without revealing her true purpose?

"So, Hipwit," Sabra began, trying to steer the conversation in the direction she wanted, "how do you like the House of Dawn? What are your…”

She paused, thinking.

“...favorite…parts, um, about it?"

"Oh, it's amazing!" the girl exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "The teachers are so knowledgeable, and the other pupils are really nice—wonderful really! Plus, we get to learn all sorts of fascinating things about the world and how it works. I feel so, so, so, so lucky to be here!"

As they chatted, Sabra couldn't help but notice how animated the girl became when talking about her new life at the House of Dawn. It was clear that she was passionate about her studies and eager to make the most of this opportunity.

What a nerd, she thought.

“I just wish more of my friends could visit from home—or my family—oh, or my pet lizard Bleb. I wasn’t allowed to bring any of them along. Though, I write letters to them once a week, and they write me back—oh, except Bleb. He can’t write yet.”

Sheesh, Sabra thought. She sure is chatty for a three-year-old.

"And what about your home?" Sabra asked, hoping to glean more information. "Where are you from, originally?"

Iset's eyes took on a distant look as she reminisced.

"I'm from a small village called Kephri's Rest. It's on the edge of the desert, so it can be a bit hot and dusty, but it's home, you know? At least, it is my original home. Suppose I should start considering Heliopharos my home now—at least for a little while, considering I’ll be here for the next two-to-six years. Depending, of course, on what I decide to make my major focus of study. I was thinking possibly—"

As the girl continued talking, Sabra tried to keep up with the torrent of information, her ears perking up at the mention of the desert. Maybe this was the lead she'd been looking for.

"Oh, and you wouldn't believe the funny things that happen in my village!" the toddler rambled on, a grin spreading across her face. "Like the time my brother Basim tried to teach a goat to dance, or when we had that sandstorm that filled the entire village square with sand. Want to know something neat? There’s an invocational water pump—which I didn’t even know was rare until I came to the House of Dawn! Isn’t that so cool? But it’s a nice place with tons of people and even the occasional adventurer on account of the dungeon—oh! Also, my best friend Keni found a wild eduri swan out by the oasis and rode it for a full five seconds and—”

Sabra's heart skipped a beat at the casual mention of the dungeon. This was it. This was the information she had been searching for. She tried to maintain her composure and not let her excitement show, but she couldn't help the eager glint that appeared in her eyes.

“Dungeon!?” She interrupted, very expertly. “Aren’t you, um, scared of the dangers that lurk in such a powerful place?”

The girl stopped and regarded the other woman quizzically.

"Oh, it's really not that big of a deal," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "Mostly just some small monsters and a few hidden treasure chests here and there. At least nearby. You know, like the time my friend Keni tried to pry open a chest, only to have it snap shut on her fingers! Or when she nearly got eaten by a giant sandworm but managed to escape by tickling its belly! Keni is a wild one, and I will miss her. Oh! And the time Sefu got his foot stuck in quicksand."

Sabra listened intently, trying to absorb every detail while also pretending to be only mildly interested. When she sensed an opening in the conversation, she decided to make her move.

“So what tier of dungeon is it, do you think?”

Iset smiled.

“Oh, definitely low,” she said, matter-of-factly.

"You don't say," Sabra replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "A low-level dungeon, huh? How interesting..."

She couldn’t help herself, the edges of her lips curled up into an unintentionally menacing-looking grin.

"So, this Delphi’s Pest place you’re from, little girl," Sabra continued, doing her best to appear casual but failing quite spectacularly. "Where might one find such a village, purely out of curiosity, of course?"

Her words came out stilted and forced, and she could feel the weight of suspicion in Iset's gaze. The girl's expression shifted, her eyes narrowing as she regarded Sabra with a newfound wariness.

"Um, I'm not really sure why you'd want to know that," Iset replied hesitantly, taking a small step back. "I really should be going, though. I have, um, an important…uh, monkey…party to attend. Yeah, that's it."

Before Sabra could protest, Iset turned and dashed off, leaving her standing alone on the bustling street. Sabra called out after her, her voice full of desperation.

"Wait! Piglet! Come back!"

But the girl was already gone—only six months old, swallowed up by the crowd, and with her, the crucial information Sabra needed to complete her mission. In her eagerness to learn the location of the girl’s village, she had been too heavy-handed, and now she was left with nothing but a series of wild guesses and a nagging sense of failure.

"Pantry... Nest? No, that's not right," Sabra muttered to herself as she tried to recall the name of the village. "Peppery... Chest? Blast it all, why can't I remember?"

With a heavy sigh, Sabra resigned herself to the fact that she would have to continue her search, perhaps with a bit more subtlety next time. After all, she couldn't afford to let the Underpharaoh—known to her as the Boss, and others as the Sunless One—down, even if it meant wandering the streets of Heliopharos for all eternity.