Trulda found herself in the small virtual room that she had thought she would never see again, even if that had, of course, been a completely unrealistic idea. Of course, she had to die at some point. The game was meant to be exciting, and the dangers were designed to push a player to their limits whenever they attempted quests of their level. This quest had been way beyond her capabilities from the start. She ran her hand over the places where they had pierced the crossbow bolts. It was a good thing she felt almost no pain in the berserker's wrath. Otherwise, this would have been a very unpleasant situation indeed. Perms couldn't set their pain sensitivity lower than 30%. Now, of course, she no longer had any wounds or pain. The virtual room was meant for recovering.

She roamed around. She had spent the first few days here settling in. Now, it looked like a living room from the Victorian era. Muted colors, everything upholstered, overflowing with knick-knacks, bric-a-brac and scanned replicas of mementos from her life.

She dropped into a comfortable leather armchair, took one of the photo albums from the shelf and pressed a small lever on the side of the armchair. The real armchairs from that era didn't have a reclining function, but she wasn't a historian after all.

The album was only a virtual copy, but it was a very good one. Her youngest daughter had scanned every single picture. Trulda leafed through the photos of her three daughters. Mainly vacations, Christmas and, of course, the two weddings. At the end came the pictures of her newborn granddaughter. As she was about to close the album, she realized that it wasn't finished yet. Frowning, she turned the pages and found a few more pictures of little Emily crawling across the floor. One seemed kind of blurred. When she focused on it, it started to move, and she could hear happy baby laughter in the background.

Information: Perms are advised not to have contact with the outside world during the acclimatization phase. However, this acclimatization phase is now over.

Your relatives have already sent numerous messages, videos and pictures. These can be accessed via the photo album.

A regular computer terminal can be created on request.

You can also send messages.

If you'd like to make direct contact, the time acceleration will be canceled for the video call.

Trulda laughed, the pain of her recent death and even the worry about her virtual friends momentarily forgotten.

She tapped on the picture of her youngest daughter and dialed a video call. A free-floating black rectangle appeared in the air, in which the call symbol flashed for a while. Then it was replaced by a sleepy female face: "Who's calling at this time of night..."

Trulda glanced at the time displayed and then shook her head: "Sleepyhead, still in bed at 8.20 am? Some things never change."

"What's it to you? You're not my..." The young woman blinked and then opened her eyes: "Mummy?"

"In old freshness."

"Old? You mentioned that you wanted to construct a younger avatar for VR, but you look fifteen!"

"Seventeen. I used footage from my prom."

"I know your prom videos. We had to watch them often enough. I'm pretty sure you didn't have such big breasts back then. Mummy! What are you doing in VR right now?"

"Not much. Right now, I'm recovering from a battle between rangers, Nistrul cultists and necromancers."

"Battle? Didn't you want to chill in a remote village? Wait, I'll get the others to join us." She fiddled around outside the field of vision, and shortly afterward, other, much more alert faces appeared slightly smaller on the screen. First, her two other daughters, then a few of her best friends joined them.

She spent the next few hours in a video conference. She assured them that she had settled in well. She then swapped anecdotes from her time in VR for the gossip she had missed in recent weeks.

After a few hours, she said goodbye and went to bed to catch up on the sleep she had missed over the last few days.

Well rested, eight hours later, she picked up a book about Mulnirsheim. More than four hours flew by as she memorized plans of the fortress and trading town, traced the most common trade routes on the map and read up on the town's history. At the very end was a highly topical entry. Less than a week ago, the governor had been replaced by a prince for the first time in over a century. She smiled as she read his name and that of his wife. Prince Othello and his wife, Desdemona. Players. They simply had to be players. The AI would never steal names from a Shakespeare play.

With a bright flash, a portal opened on the wall of the room. Trulda tossed the virtual book aside, where it dissolved into thin air. She called up her equipment menu, changed her shoes and stowed away the giant two-handed mace in her Cleavage of Holding. Then she stepped through the portal.

Her eyes squinted as she stepped out into the blinding midday sun. The marketplace around the spawn point had been cleared of stores and tents. Instead, there were suspicious soldiers everywhere and curious citizens in the background. Trulda felt uncomfortable under the disapproving gaze of the locals and quickly stepped down from the platform. She had already decided on a side alley, which she now stomped towards with her head down.

"Trulda! Wait!" The familiar voice made her pause. Weylan came running up to her from behind. Before she could recover from her surprise, he had already approached and embraced her. She smiled and stroked his hair reassuringly: "It's okay. It's all right. I'm all right. Is everything all right with you, too?" She pushed him away a little and made sure he still had the correct number of limbs. He also had clean clothes on and no visible wounds.

"So... you're..."

"I am a revenant. Yes. But let's discuss this in a more comfortable place. According to the map, there should be a tavern with a roof terrace over there. It's not particularly medieval, but it looked great in the pictures. The owner is one of us."

* * *

Shortly afterward, the two of them were sitting on comfortable wicker chairs on a roof terrace. Each with a small mug of beer on the table next to them. The terrace was otherwise empty, as they were between the usual times for breakfast and lunch.

Trulda sipped her beer, nodded in satisfaction and then leaned back: "I assume you have a lot of questions."

Weylan opened his mouth... and closed it again. Then he shrugged: "I don't even know where to start. How can you be one of those monsters if you never disappear like the other revenants do?"

"Heroes, as we players actually call ourselves, are not monsters. You fought together with the rangers. They risked a lot of time and experience points to save you."

"Good, that's true. But the others just slaughtered us for fun."

"They had a quest from Nistrul. But you're right. Nasty assholes. All of them."

Weylan was taken aback by this profanity, which was entirely out of character for Trulda. She continued: "It's true. They only come to this world to have fun and then leave again. That's it. It's different for me. I'm a permanent guest here."

He just looked at her questioningly.

"We call heroes like me Perms, an abbreviation for Permanent. You see, in our world, we have a body, just like you. When it is injured, it needs time to heal. Often a very long time. But in our world, there is no magical healing. We can't heal some illnesses or injuries at all."

"I don't understand..."

"While we revenants come to this world here, our real body sleeps in our world. We are here for a while; then, we return to our bodies. And go on living our real lives in our world. I don't have a body that I can return to. Or at least not one I want to return to. I..." She hesitated but then continued firmly: "I had an accident. A car accident, but it would take too long to explain. Suffice it to say that I was very badly injured. My spine was damaged right at the neck. I can no longer move any part of my body. The man who caused the accident was drunk. The question of guilt was clear. He himself was distraught. To cut a long story short, he was wealthy and used his money to get me a lifelong place in a special hospital. There, I was hooked up to devices that keep my mind in this world. I can never go back to my world. I am here. Permanently."

"Are there more worlds like this?"

"Yes... No... It's complicated. There are other virtual worlds. One that's just like our real world, only quieter and more peaceful. Especially popular with older Perms. Then there's a medieval world, which is a bit like here but without the magic. There are a few other historical worlds and a Star Trek simulation. But none of them are as real as this one. For a truly realistic simulation, you need an Omega-class artificial intelligence. It has to be specially constructed for each reality, but it can control almost any size together with cheaper, simpler AIs. Omega-class artificial intelligences are incredibly expensive. We only have four."

"So, these omegas have four worlds like this?"

Trulda laughed: "No. Only Nemesis controls a virtual reality world. One monitors our global economic system and prevents tax evasion and money laundering. You wouldn't believe how that has changed our world. Criminal cartels, drug trafficking and terrorist organizations have practically disappeared overnight. The second Omega AI controls the global research and development network, the third controls the planetary logistics and transportation networks. Nemesis is the only Omega AI that has ever been financed by a private company. People pay incredible sums of money to be allowed into this virtual world. At the moment, only a few are allowed in to test whether the simulation still works correctly after the latest update. Soon everyone will be allowed in. That will be about forty million."

"Forty... It's impossible to fit that many in this town!"

"Your world doesn't just have this one city. There are many realms on several continents. More continents than would fit in the real world. Endless wilderness areas. There is also the underworld of caves and tunnels. There are mainly dwarves, stoneborn and other underworld races. Then there are the realms under the sea with the mermen, atlanteans, mermaids and kraken creatures."

"How many will show up here?"

"Mulnirsheim is a large city with around 200,000 inhabitants. As a fortified town, it is designed so that up to half as many people can live here in times of war. But that would be pretty overcrowded. I reckon there will be more like 60,000 heroes here. Plus, quite a few in the surrounding villages and in the mountains. Not everyone wants to be in a war zone. Many just want peace and quiet."

"Like you?"

"I chose one of the quietest corners. At least that's what I thought. This war wasn't supposed to happen that way. I don't think even the administrators expected it. The opening was postponed by a week, which caused a lot of anger and protests among the heroes. The four-week break they needed to prepare for the new instance was unbearable for many."

"Four weeks? When was that?"

"Around two hundred years have passed here in that time."

He looked at her uncomprehendingly for a few heartbeats. Then he just decided to ignore it: "Are there more like you? Perms, I mean."

"Maybe a hundred or so at the moment. Federova the first is also a perm, for example. We know each other from the training we perms get before we enter the game."

"Training?"

"It was quite funny. First, we had a hut in the forest where we could get used to our bodies. I was paralyzed for weeks before that. It wasn't easy to get used to walking again. Not to mention fine motor skills. Then we had to learn how to use medieval tools and methods. Making a fire. Cooking without a microwave..."

"Micro... what?"

"A magic cooking pot that almost everyone in our world has. Heats things up in a few minutes." She waved it off: "Our world is different, but not better in many ways. You have magic. And skills. With the right skill, you only have to do part of the work. The rest practically takes care of itself. Everything goes much faster. I sprinkle a handful of herbs into the soup, and my cooking skill makes sure it's perfectly seasoned."

Weylan shrugged his shoulders: "That's normal."

"Yes, in this world. Anyway, then came basic combat training. We've never held a weapon in our world before. Even those little goblins they sicced on us were a real challenge. Afterwards, we had lessons in the available classes and were allowed to choose one. We chose our advantages and disadvantages and..."

"You got to pick them?" Weylan had half stood up and was leaning over the table.

Trulda moved the beer to the side so that he didn't throw it down and told him to calm down. She took a quick look around, but still no other guests had appeared. "All revenants choose their advantages and disadvantages according to certain rules. Ulrike... I mean Federova the First spent everything on noble advantages. She can do almost nothing herself, but she gets to order people around. In our world, she was an educator. The fact that someone finally listens to her and that she gets to throw annoying people into the cesspit is the greatest thing for her."

Weylan took a sip of beer: "Did you know that 'Live in interesting times' only offers a life expectancy of half a year?"

She was silent for a moment, then nodded: "Not at first. When you told me about it, I only knew very vaguely what the disadvantage meant. But I've since read up on it in the forums. For players, it's an advantage, not a disadvantage. Having more adventures is not a problem for us. Heroes simply respawn when they die. After word got around that players with this disadvantage respawn really often, hardly anyone took it. But the disadvantage is not a death sentence! It simply means that you will always be dragged into the biggest mess there is within reach. You become part of every local quest and all random events. Random events become more extreme, but not necessarily worse. With the right class, equipment and training, you can survive."

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"The dryad may even be able to revive the dead at some point. I know."

Trulda frowned: "So the depressive plant can do something useful after all?"

"That's right. You were already gone by then. She's become a healer. She was the one who healed me."

"Healer... She didn't think of that before?"

"It must have been a difficult decision. She wanted to become a priestess again. Because she chose a different magic-using class before, that's no longer possible."

Trulda was silent, then nodded thoughtfully: "Good. I can understand that at least. Choosing a class is already a difficult decision even for players."

"I guess you can say that. I also have to decide whether to look for a teacher for my current character class or choose a new one."

"If you tell me what you have, then I could..."

He looked around quickly, leaned forward and whispered "Assassin" in her ear.

She looked at him in surprise for a moment, then grinned: "Of course. You shoot someone in the back once, and wham! Hello, rare character class. Well, in that case, I can't just post a request on the forum, can I? We'd best find a local master. That could take a while. But we've got a few days' rest now. I'll look for a job as a waitress in one of the local taverns and ask around. That way we can also earn a little gold to supplement our equipment."

"Well, gold is not such a high priority for me. I still have a few tasks to do for a new client."

"Client? Tell me!"

"I'm not allowed to do that. He wants to introduce himself. At least you already know his name. Malvorik."

"Our savior! Of course. Mages are first-class questgivers. Get this, investigate that. Find a unicorn and bring me three of its tail hairs, there are some cool stories in the forums. Most heroes would sacrifice their right hand for a mage as a patron."

"Well... Before I take you to him, you have to sign a contract. He's very attached to his secrets. So far, no one in the city knows he even exists."

"A magician who demands an NDA? That's getting more and more interesting. Give me that."

He pulled out a scroll and placed it on the table. A glance around revealed only one other guest, who had just come up the stairs and sat down at the other end of the roof terrace. Weylan and Trulda chatted quietly about trivial matters for a while until the waitress had placed a cup of steaming drink in front of the guest. He leaned back comfortably with his back to the two of them and pulled out a book to browse through.

Trulda finished reading the contract: "It's one of those magical contracts. He really went to a lot of trouble."

Weylan wordlessly pulled a small writing set out of his pocket.

In the wooden box, she found an inkwell, a quill, a knife and a shiny finger-length crystal. She took out the crystal, frowning: "What's this for?"

"Leave it in the box until you've finished, then hold the crystal over it briefly. That will dry the ink immediately."

Trulda drew her name in neat calligraphic lettering.

Magic contract accepted.

Please remember that Contract conditions will be enforced by the system.

Weylan packed everything up: "Now we're getting to the exciting part. I'll pay, then we're off."

She followed him out of the tavern and into the city. He led her unerringly through smaller and smaller streets. In a narrow, windowless alley, he looked around in all directions. Then he took a hook with a handle from a pocket and pushed it into an opening in the floor. With some effort, he pulled a manhole cover out of its holder and pushed it aside. With an inviting gesture, he waved Trulda down. She looked down into the dark hole: "He lives down there?"

"Yep."

"In the sewers?"

"The path leads through there."

"A mage tower that can only be reached through the sewers?"

"Something like that." He grinned. After a brief hesitation, she went forward and climbed down the metal rungs of the ladder that were embedded in the wall. Weylan followed her and pulled the manhole cover shut behind him.

Downstairs, he took a pale glowing crystal out of his pocket, held it in front of him and set off. Trulda rolled her eyes, pulled her torch from her cleavage and followed him.

At first she had expected that they would soon be climbing back up, but more ladders and steep channels led further and further down. Then Weylan touched a spot on the wall and a previously camouflaged door folded inwards. In the hidden room, there was a steep ladder leading downwards into a small circular room. A thick cloth covered the way out.

"It's about to get very bright. Don't be frightened." Then he pulled the cloth aside, and daylight shone into the tunnel. He motioned for her to walk past him. The tunnel wall suddenly no longer appeared to be brick but smooth stone. Straight walls, dry floor. A tunnel measuring about three by three steps. Glowing crystals were embedded in the ceiling every few steps. Weylan took the lead again and kept to the left. The tunnel branched out several times. "Don't touch the walls. There are occasional traps from here."

She just nodded. A short time later, something fluttered towards them. The glowing wings immediately revealed the little fairy they already knew. The fairy beckoned them to follow her and guided them through a few more branches and then down a tunnel towards the middle of the wall: "This is just an illusion. Go right through here."

Weylan followed the fairy and Trulda had no other choice. By now, she saw little chance of finding her way back through the maze. She reached out and carefully touched the stone wall. She walked through it without the slightest resistance. As soon as her head was through, she found herself in a huge cavern. The ceiling was covered with numerous luminous crystals.

The cave stretched far into the distance, built on three terraces, each with only one staircase leading up. Numerous tables were set up in the lowest area. Empty crates and barrels stood around. Fireplaces had been prepared, but all had clearly never been used. Knee-high openings led into the rock, clearly not made for humans.

"Do other fairies live in there?"

"No. Just the rats." Weylan looked at her as if he was waiting for her to jump onto the nearest table, screeching.

She just nodded and followed the disappointed assassin. Apparently, she’d never told him about the two pet rats she had as a child.

A narrow staircase led to the next level. Here, to her surprise, she found a few multi-storey houses. In between, completely useless paths and all the other decorations one would expect in a neighborhood. Even high torches at the crossroads. Here, for the first time, she saw life. Duskgnomes shook blankets from windows, hung wet laundry on lines between buildings, or hurried about busily. Children played behind the houses. Some of them were drawing a complex game with chalk on the smooth stone floor.

They went up another flight of stairs to the last level. There was a magnificent manor house, surrounded by a small wrought-iron fence and a lawn. To the left of it, a solitary little tree stood a short distance away. The dryad was examining every single leaf and adjusting one or two branches. She looked up and waved to Trulda.

The little fairy zoomed in and hovered in the air in front of Trulda. "Hello, welcome to our little kingdom."

Trulda looked around: "Okay, I'll pass. This makes absolutely no sense. I don't know what the designers were thinking. It's not an underground city, it's too small for that. It also doesn't look like the buried remains of a former settlement. The maze at the back would only really fit in with a dungeon, but those don't exist this close to towns. The beginner's guide mentioned a few dungeons nearby, but none less than a full day's journey from the town. Did the mage Malvorik create this?"

"He'd better answer that himself. " The fairy landed and was silent for a moment, then her eyes began to glow red. A little unsteadily, she took off again until she arrived at Trulda's head height. "Greetings, Lady Trulda. Welcome. I am Malvorik. The heart and soul of this dungeon. I hope you like it. Selvara is lending me her body to communicate directly with you."

"Dungeon? You're... a dungeon heart? Man... I thought they couldn't talk."

"The others don't do it often. According to the legends, they usually content themselves with curses and threats. Especially when adventurers approach their heart room. Before that, very few communicate. Travis, the library dungeon, is a very rare exception. However, this is probably mainly due to its unique location, in the middle of the lost city of..."

"Stop! Wait! Before you tell nice anecdotes about other dungeons, one question. Are we prisoners here?"

"What?" No! Of course not. You can leave at any time. Weylan and Selvara will show you the way out. Unfortunately, we don't have a direct way out, which makes transporting goods quite a hassle. As the only person who has agreed to work for me on outside errands, Weylan still has a way to come here. I can create non-living things, but I still need a lot of samples to analyze them. Various foods are also still on my residents' wish list."

"I could just leave? What if I tell someone that there's a dungeon here... Oh yes. The contract. I understand. What if I accidentally slip up? Or someone follows me here without my knowledge?"

"First I would be visited by heroes and a short time later by a group of dungeon killers. They would surely defeat me after a tough fight. I'm not really well-defended yet. That's why I created this cave here, so that it would survive my death. The barrel vault ceiling is structurally stable. Not like those botched dungeons, which simply collapse as soon as the dungeon magic no longer stabilizes them. The glow crystals are created with my dungeon skills, but they are real artifacts that will continue to exist. The only problem is manually controlling the water flow for the underground river I drilled into. But a few of the duskgnomes are working on that right now. As a human, I never had anything to do with water weirs and sluice systems."

"That's all right! I'll do my best not to give anything away. You seem to be a very cultured dungeon heart."

"I'm only here because of a divine error. A miscarriage of justice, so to speak. Quite a long story. Which I will nonetheless tell you in detail. But not today. Make yourself comfortable for now. I've prepared a room for you in the academy. The leaders of the Duskgnomes wanted to stay down here in the city, but for you, Princess Ulmenglanz and Weylan, I've set up quiet rooms for guests of honor."

"This is the big building here? Wow. Nice. But no, I'm sorry. I'm sure I'd love to come by, but I'd prefer to live upstairs. Is that a problem?"

"No, no. Of course not. You're welcome here at any time, but as I've already mentioned, you can leave at any time. I just have one small suggestion. But I'd like to gather a few of my guests for that."

The dungeon fairy whirred away briefly to exchange a few words with the dryad, who now reluctantly parted from her tree and followed her. Meanwhile, Weylan returned with the duskgnome leader. When everyone was assembled, the fairy flew a little higher: "Friends, guests and contractors. You have agreed not to knowingly harm me and to keep my secrets. In return, you are always welcome here as guests. I have just one more suggestion. You may have heard that a new plague has begun. Thousands of revenants..."

Trulda coughed: "Actually, it's around forty million. For a start."

A shocked silence fell over the group before Malvorik, seemingly unimpressed, continued speaking.

"... countless revenants will soon infest our world. As we have now discovered once again, not everyone has set the welfare of the local civilian population as their highest goal. To put it mildly. There's not usually much we can do. Revenants don't fear death and spend all their time training, dungeons and quests."

Weylan laughed snidely: "More like drinking and whor..." he looked into the raised eyebrows of both Ulmenglanz and Trulda and broke off, coughing.

"Anyway, they have higher levels and better equipment than most of the locals. But I think you could form a group that could take on revenants one day. A group of real heroes who will take care of the problems that aren't interesting for revenants, or whose solutions aren't ideal for people who have to live with the consequences."

Trulda looked around: "That could work. This is almost the traditional standard group of heroes. A fighter," she pointed at herself, "a healer," she pointed at Ulmenglanz, who scowled but nodded, "a thief," she pointed at Weylan, who indignantly corrected her with "assassin", "and a scout." Skorr just nodded calmly.

"But that means we still need a mage. Unless the dryad can also learn analysis magic and battle spells."

The dungeon fairy fluttered in a circle for a moment: "Well, as long as I take over Selvara's body, I can take over the post. But that only works within the dungeon. For now. So, it won't do us much good. If she wants to accompany you outside, she'll have to learn to use magic herself."

Trulda held her hand in the circle: "So I shall strike down our opponents in hand-to-hand combat."

Weylan grinned and placed his hand on hers: "I’ll ambush our opponents in the shadows, stab them in the back and remove traps. Once I've practiced that."

Skorr Callad approached and added his calloused hand, "I spy on our enemies and can also meet them in close combat."

The dryad shrugged and placed her hand lightly on Skor's: "Fine by me. As long as I don't have to be away from my tree for too long, I can patch you up."

Malvorik clapped his hands together enthusiastically as a dungeon fairy and landed on the pile of hands: "Selvara will learn to use the art of magic in your favor."

He flew to the center of the room and raised his voice: "And I myself... will do my very best to kill you all!"

Everyone looked up shocked. The magician grinned, using the face of the little fairy: "What? I'm a dungeon. If you want to train here, I'll have to make a serious effort to kill you. Otherwise, you won't get any experience points. I've already thought up a few training levels. You'll have fun. Or at least I will. We’ll see." He paused a moment, then directed his attention at Trulda: “If you want to join our merry group, I would recommend you also enter a pact with me so we can directly communicate and you have less trouble traversing my dungeon.”

Trulda got a prompt asking her to join into a pact with the dungeon heart Malvorik. She agreed.

The red glow went out, and the fairy swayed on the spot for a moment, disoriented: "I hate it when he gives up possession without warning me first. I'll fall flat on my face one day. But to stay on topic: I will destroy your enemies with magic! Thanks to my bond to a dungeon heart, I can see magic. That should help me overcome most magical traps and obstacles."

Weylan looked at her curiously: "What kind of battle spells do you have?"

"Shock hand! A level one electric thing touch attack."

"How strong is that?"

"Well, one or two of those will kill any rat!"

Weylan and Trulda looked at each other for a moment, clearly unimpressed. She shrugged her shoulders: "That's the same damage as a blunt bread knife. But there's certainly room for improvement. What class do you have anyway?"

"Dungeon Fairy."

"No, that's your race. What's your class?"

The fairy hesitated. "I... I don't know. I thought this was my class too?"

"Does the dungeon only have one race?"

"No. He's a mage and a dungeon master."

Trulda frowned: "Then that doesn't make any sense. Try calling up the corresponding menu."

Selvara nodded and looked dully in front of her for a while. Now that she was looking for it, she also found a corresponding menu. She read everything aloud, so the others wouldn't just see her staring at the ceiling.

Character class is available for selection.

Available basic character classes (always available):

Brawler, Skirmisher, Thief, Craftsman (simple trades), Farmer

Race-specific character classes:

(None available)

Classes unlocked through actions:

Familiar

Selvara focused on the only interesting character class:

Familiar

Only available for animals (limited selection), fairy creatures and monster races (limited selection) that have been made familiars by a mage as part of the corresponding ritual.

You have made a pact with a mage.

Within a limited area, both partners can access each other's magical abilities.

The range for this area is [Error! Not available]

[Error forwarded] [Analyzing...]

[Error corrected; Global rule adjustment…]

You have made a pact with a mage and/or dungeon heart. Within your shared dungeon, both partners have limited access to each other's magical abilities.

Outside of this area, you receive your own mana pool and can learn your mage's spells. All magic skills and spells can be increased to a maximum of the mage's level.

Special features: As a familiar you will receive half of the experience points gained by the mage as a bonus for as long as you remain inside the dungeon.

If you are outside the dungeon, all experience points earned by both of you are shared.

Confirm selection (Yes/No)?

Selvara grinned: "Yes!"

Name: Selvara

Race: Dungeon Fairy

Class: Familiar Level 4

Mana pool: 60

Regeneration: 8/ hour

Strength: 6

Dexterity: 16

Intelligence: 14

Willpower: 10

Constitution: 10

Charisma: 14

The following skills have been added by way of familiar bond:

Dungeon Lore (Journeyman V), Trap Lore (Journeyman II), Magic Theory (Layman VII), Spell Control (Journeyman II), Alchemy (Layman II), Herb Lore (Layman IV), Geography (Layman V)

Spells, all learned at Journeyman I

Level 1: Stationary Zone of Silence, Unstable Invisibility

Level 2: Self-Transformation, Shock Grip, Permanent Light

The dungeon fairy blinked and looked at the group. The others had withdrawn their hands and Ulmenglanz had carefully sat down and placed her hand with the fairy on it on the ground.

"My character class is now familiar. Practically like a mage." She tilted her head as she listened to an inaudible voice. "Malvorik still has a long list of things he wants you to get him when you get a chance. I'll have him create them as a scroll."

Trulda tilted her head, almost as if she was trying to hear the voice too: "A shopping list? What does a dungeon like this need?"

"Various herbs, liquids, strange substances and glassware for his alchemistic experiments. Rare metals and gemstones for artifact making. Grimoires with spells. Food for the inhabitants and some exotic animals."

"Animals?"

"Better not ask. He would explain it to you in detail. Among other things, slag snails, chameleon butterflies and shield beetles. Plus, all kinds of poisonous snakes and scorpions." She listened again for a moment and then added: "Oh yes, and he wants you to get him a shrine to Golgoroth."

Weylan rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache: "Are you serious? So, I’m supposed to get the contents of the local mage academy, part of the zoo and the shrine of a god whose worship is forbidden in all civilized lands. We have the usual house in my village with shrines to almost all the gods, but no one has yet wanted to attract Golgoroth's attention. Well, I was afraid I might get bored for a few days."

Trulda raised her hands' palms up: "Live in interesting times."

Malvorik's voice rang out in the minds of those present:

Weylan just sighed and walked away to get a good night's sleep before fate had more in store for him.