"Jack? Wake up, buddy! It's already past first light, and the day waits for no man!"

Jack groaned and Drake's too cheerful words, though he found himself surprisingly refreshed once he blinked open sleepy eyes and took in his room, taking care of immediate necessities with a discrete peek in one of the adjoining rooms opening up into a bathroom so very like the ones at Silver Wand Inn, and never had he been so glad for the reemergence of modern conveniences than he was that morning. Because despite his fond memories of his home at the farm, and the parents he still missed dearly, running water was one thing they did not have.

And perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised to hear a knock on his bathroom door, boundaries for Drake being what the were.

But still.

"I'm in the bathroom, damn it!" Jack snapped at the too cheerful youth telling him all about the days plans in the room beyond.

Drake laughed. "Oh, I'm well aware. Trust me. Just like I'm well aware that someone had a very good time last night."

Jack winced. "Shit, we're still—"

"That's right, party linked! But don't worry. Julie's friends were very understanding, and we all had a wonderful night, even if Jevon gave me the hairy eyeball at having to write no less than three letters of apology and favor to their families this morning."

Jack blinked, momentarily nonplussed. "Wait, are you saying... those three girls in matching dresses..."

"A gentleman never tells, shieldbrother. Now come! Your copper bath and breakfast await! You like pastries, right? Gods know I do. There's a silver plate with all my favorites, savory and sweet as well. Honeyed milk, or fortified port, if you're all about the hair of the dog that bit you and all that. But don't get sloshed again, Jack! Stormy's letter made it clear that she expects discretion from the man who would claim her heart."

Jack's eyes bulged as he finished his business. "Drake! You were reading my letter?"

"Well, it was lying right there... and I have to say, I really think she's falling for you Well done, brother. If I weren't already firmly dating half the college, I would totally be jealous."

When a hot-under-the collar Jack stormed out long seconds later, because he really was a big believer in hygiene, and his hands had never felt cleaner, he glared at his friend. "We really need to have a talk about boundaries, Drake!"

His friend nodded. "You're right. Mi casa es su casa, and brothers in battle should have nothing between them. Here, have a cream puff."

Jack rolled his eyes as his hand reflexively caught the prize, 14 Finesse and 13 Quickness making it almost impossible to miss, quickly biting into a flaky pastry filled with creamy goodness that somehow managed to take the edge off his ire.

More like exasperation, he decided at last. Jack couldn't help but be charmed by his friend's wicked smile.

"I mean, fair is fair, brother. I had no idea party links could be that strong." Drake's grin widened. "And neither did the girls in my arms."

Jack laughed at that, he couldn't help it. Though he was surprised that he hadn't felt anything from Drake at his end... before his brow furrowed, realizing he did indeed sense something connecting to the edge of his psyche... a something his mind had somehow filled with what looked to his inner eye suspiciously like soul silk. A metaphoric muffle to make sure nothing untoward went past. Going the other way, it seemed, his mind hadn't really been concerned about.

Drake, with a body he was almost certain had grown even more lithe and strong and perhaps an inch taller than it had been yesterday, now really did look every inch the young celebrity with a 1000 megawatt smile who was a charmer and knew it, and so did all the girls and boys who might fall for him. And as bold as he might be, the nights by his side would always filled with good times and laughter.

Jack flashed a bemused grin of his own. "Let me guess... you leveled up?"

Drake laughed. "Did I ever, brother! Nearly getting ambushed and killed by overwhelming odds does that to a fellow pretty quickly! Best of all, I hit Tier 4 of that graceful maturity feat end-run style, just raising the right stats, and bam! I am now my dream ideal. The ideal I always wanted to be in my secret heart of hearts, when I was a youth just on the barest cusp of manhood for far too many years."

Jack nodded, suddenly feeling strangely sympathetic. "So, now you're the apple in everyone's eye with a physique that fills you with joy to use, and 4 years worth of bottled up hormones that you have no real experience dealing with. And Scholarship, Willpower, and Perception were not a part of the list of stats you boosted, but your Charisma is high enough you now know just what to say to make any girl smile... and to make her feel special, even when you're also smiling at the girl next to her."

Drake frowned thoughtfully. "Pretty much. But when you say it like that..."

Jack smiled. "And we were also fighting for our lives yesterday, Drake. Against a really devious and malicious monster. That's going to have a huge effect on anyone's libido. And the eagerness to lose yourself in someone's arms... to savor sweet life and feel a passion society normally demands we repress... yeah, that's as human as human gets." His cheeks flushed in sudden memory. "I mean, how else do you think I ended up in the arms of the most beautiful woman in the duchy?"

Drake chuckled. "Don't let the princess hear you say that. But yes, you certainly caught a beauty." His warm gaze turned solemn. "Jack, I hope you don't think the worst of me." he flashed a rueful smile. "I have never chased a girl who didn't want to be caught, and wasn't at least as old as I was." He cleared his throat, taking a sip of his drink. "And you'll note that I now look a healthy 18. But just a few days ago..."

"You hardly looked a day over 14. I know."

Drake grinned. "Care to guess how old most of the girls I know from the academy really are?"

Jack blinked. "You know, I never thought about it that way."

His friend chuckled. "And I meant what I said. A gentleman never tells... unless you were also there. Point is, my friends for the evening are very savvy to the ways of the world, and know how useful forming strong alliances can be. For their clans and my own. And what harm is there in a few sweet nights of indulgence as well? Because of course everyone hopes to find a spark that ends in more than friendships and sweet memory, but you never know." He shrugged. "Many students of the Academy make finding the boy or girl of their dreams their lifelong quest, enjoying many adventures along the way, however turns out the end of their tale."

He grinned at Jack's expression. "I think you'll find that a studious life with an emphasis on liberty and indulgence in our off-hours is the enlightened approach most etherially inclined nobles take in life. And don't worry. Stormy's served as a special officer for enough years to know how life is here in Greycliff, especially among noble clans and Academy students. Most importantly, if you do end up courting someone at the Academy, they will always tell you their true age before your first kiss."

Jack nodded. "A wise precaution." He then glared at his writing desk, before blinking when he noted the perfectly sealed letter Stormy had left him. "Did you actually?"

His friend laughed. "Of course not. But the look on your face!" he then flashed a brotherly grin. "But I can all but guess what the letter says."

Jack smirked. "Please don't," he said, grabbing what amounted to a ham and melted cheese croissant and loving every bite of it. Even if the food was etherial, he decided it was real enough that morning, and his belly seemed to agree.

Drake grinned. "Belly happy? Great. Time to talk strategy."

And soon enough, a bemused Jack found himself following his friend into the bowels of the manor that was nearly the size of the palace, Drake whispered as an aside, as fine corridors of hardwood were replaced by tiled stone followed by damp cobbled blocks descending into the true bowels of the keep, Drake nodding to a lone guard who stiffened to attention as they passed.

Jack turned to his friend, glad his infravision and magesight weren't really affected by the dim light, illumination far more sporadic with only a single flickering magelight as they passed what Drake assured were various storage rooms and, at last, several barred rooms that could actually be considered cells. In short, they were in the bowels of an actual and completely nonmagical dungeon. Small as it was.

"And here are our first two candidates for a life of adventure and glory!"

Drake flashed a winning smile at an anxious looking man on the other side of the steel bars securing the closest cell with a few faint scars marring what were otherwise perfectly average features. The prisoner's eyes darted around anxiously, before turning to Drake and Jack with pleading eyes.

"Please let me go, my lords. I was wrong. Framed! I would never do anything to mar the reputation of the Hovinarri family!" The man licked nervous lips. "Please let me go. Or even exile me! And I'll make myself scarce and never return to the duchy. I swear it!"

Jack winced away from the desperate man's gaze, his pleading words nearly drowned out by the thunderous snores in the adjoining cell, coming from a massive occupant whose broad shoulders were those of a giant, for all that his stubby legs would make him no taller than Jack, presently splayed out on the fur-covered cell floor, far too big for the narrow bed that had been twisted right off of its frame and crumpled into a corner next to a veritable stack of barrels and caskets, the broken cask currently being held in one massive hand giving off the aroma of distilled spirits, both pungent and sweet.

Jack's eyes widened at the sight, taking in the powerfully muscled, hairy frame and the fiery orange beard, with darker curls and eyebrows framing a craggy face presently lost to rum's gentle embrace.

Jack slowly turned to his friend. "I have questions. So many questions."

"And I have answers! The anxious looking man said. "I'm innocent. Of everything! Please let me go!"

Drake smirked. "The long and short of it is that this whiny one was a house servant of one of my... ahem... companion's houses, and the other, a newly hired house guard. At first, nothing seemed wrong, though our large friend here was noted to be a somewhat enthusiastic drinker. But he could out-wrestle every other member of the house guard with one hand literally tied behind his back, drunk or sober, and their captain always loved his stories, so certain transgressions were forgiven."

Drake sighed, shaking his head. "That was, until the seneschal of Jovina's house found a fortune in silver missing. But only in the areas of the house our presently drunk friend here was supposed to be watching."

Jack frowned at that, wondering what that said about the supposed guard, before turning to the smaller man now glancing at the snorer with a look close to horror.

"That man's a monster. A barbarian! Please, I beg of you my lords... he threatened to kill me. To tear my arms off! Just like he did to Svot!"

Jack blinked at this. "Svot?"

Drake nodded. "Our charming guard here flew into such a rage at the insult to his honor, at the mere possibility that his drunken slothfulness could have allowed for theft, or worse, that he was somehow behind it all, that the entire guard thought he would explode when he was told he was summarily dismissed. I believe the words were, 'Quiet you fools. Let me sniff out that damned thief!' Then he went tearing down one of the hallways, the entire guard in hot pursuit."

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Drake smiled almost fondly at the barrel chested man. "Barlton Strongthews might be many things, but easy to stop is not one of them. So his legs, stubby as they are, got him from points A to B, and any guard who tried to interfere found himself gently tossed aside, clattering in armor and bruises, our dear Barlton roaring aloud that he was on the cusp of finding the thief, and his nose never lies."

Drake gave a rueful shake of his head. "The entire family was terrified when he tore right into the upper wing, fearing a night of pillage and slaughter, but our dear guard ignored my lovely Jovina's entire panicked family, instead racing right into Jovina's own chambers, completely ignoring the otherwise occupied girl before smashing open the room of her lady-in-waiting, finding her and two others with Jovina's entire fortune in jewelry in hand, and a rope ladder leading right out the third floor window. The silly fool of a girl promptly broke into tears, declaring that Jovina's lover had been the mastermind behind it all, and Narri raced out the window so fast he broke his leg, crashing to the ground. I'm not sure who paid the healing bill for him, but here he is, in our keep, to do with as we will."

Jack nodded. "But wasn't there another criminal?"

Drake nodded. "Yes. Svot. That man our dear Vaki here tore limb from limb."

Jack blinked. "Like... literally? Limb from limb?"

Drake grinned. "Literally. Making a big bloody mess, terrifying Jovina, and sending her half-naked lover out yet another window, whereupon he too ended up breaking a leg. Of course, it's hard to tell if Jovina was more or less upset when she found out that her groaning lover had, in fact, been the mastermind behind it all. Of course he's a noble and declared it all a misunderstanding, but after the threat of a duel..." Drake flashed a cold smile Jack recognized all too well. "Other steps were taken to smooth ruffled feathers, and the silly fool will spend the next two years in house confinement, and his monthly stipend will be Jovina's to spend as she sees fit, for the duration."

Drake sighed and shook his head. "Regardless, the entire affair was a mess, and no one was quite sure whether to reward our friend here or lock him up for years, and no one was more surprised than Jovina when her threats to send our barrel-chested friend to the academy dungeon, alongside the thief Narri, earned laughter and a smile with the words: 'For gold? What dwarf wouldn't delve for gold? Count me in! And a few jugs of rum for the road, if you would be so kind, my lady!'"

Jack gazed wordlessly at his friend for long moments. "Seriously? He's a dwarf?"

Drake smirked, gazing intently at Jack's well-covered ears. "I have no idea. But I'm a lot more open-minded now than I was, say, 3 days ago."

Jack winced. "Fair enough. But how the hell did anyone convince this guy to... well..."

"Docilely enter our dungeon?"

"Well, yeah."

Drake grinned. "Father said that as far as he was concerned, Barlton could start over with a clean slate, but he'd be Delving, not guarding, and he'd move up in sleeping arrangements once he had proven himself. Our dwarven friend here held out for a good five seconds until father also mentioned that his accommodations were right next to our wine cellar, and then the guards couldn't keep up."

Jack nodded. "Make's sense, I guess."

Drake nodded, and Jack's eyes widened when he pointed at the mangled lock. "He apologized, of course. Said he had to use the privy, and didn't want to stink up his cell. So he used the pit on the other side."

Jack gave another slow nod. "I see. So it's sort of a voluntary confinement type of thing."

Drake laughed. "And the great big fool's already drank 3 silver talons worth of fine mead and brandy, so I'd say he's coming out ahead. Anyway, these two men are the first of our...volunteers."

Narri began to sob. "Please, my lord!"

His sobs instantly stilled when Drake flashed a gold coin. "Believe it or not, I know the terror you feel," Drake said, his voice deadly serious. "And I won't make any man dare the deeps unwilling. Even if the lightest sentence you can hope for is 10 years indentured servitude, or the loss of your hand." He flashed a bleak smile at Narri's horrified sob. "Even there, you have a choice, our duke being far less ruthless than those who came before. You may either serve willingly, grateful to keep both hands, or lose one hand, grateful for 10 years of your life and a year's worth of free, if impoverished apprenticeship, in a trade that only requires one hand. So you can actually feed yourself without needing to ever steal for a living again. As if anyone would be foolish enough to make that same mistake twice, without a starving belly."

Narri sobbed and paled at the pronouncement, whereupon Drake flashed gold once more. "Or, you can embrace a chance to live the life of your wildest childhood fantasies, before you became a lowlife thief, clearing your reputation and earning a full gold crown to your name, that's twenty thousand coppers, in one fell swoop as you join a band of brothers and sisters who actually look after their own."

And Jack could instantly see the transformation, the way the man's despairing sobs turned to a look of desperate hope. "My lord! I..." the man swallowed nervously. "I don't even know why I listened to Svot and that damned noble in the first place! I never stole from a single soul before that night. I swear it!" He gave a despairing little chuckle. "Not that you or anyone else will ever believe me. But it doesn't matter. I will accept your terms."

"Good," Drake said with a nod, before furrowing his brow. "But don't play the fool. It's one thing if you feel fine. I hear some are born to it, heroes like in the tales, actually savoring the feel of Nightmare pressing all around them. And if all you feel a heavy weight squeezing you, press on for all your worth! But if you begin to sicken, or your sense of self... warps? Yell for help, and we'll fish you free and heal you as best we can."

Drake flashed a brilliant smile to the man's look of horror. "And I will then personally commute your sentence, so long as you at least dare the deep just this once. You will still be exiled, but with a fresh start to forge yourself into the man you most want to be in life, one with dignity and self-respect. To be clear, after those first few steps, you risk yourself for gold alone, your freedom being all but assured. Are we agreed?"

To this Narri nodded with desperate relief. "Yes, my lord. Your terms are fair. More than fair!"

Then the man paled and screamed when a terrific belch echoed through the bowels of the keep like a dragon's roar.

"So, are we going or not? Your brandy's too sweet, and your mead too weak! And me muscles are practically itchin' for a mountain to climb or ore to smash!" Declared a powerful baritone voice that sent shivers down Jack's spine. "The guards are too fragile to properly spar with around here, and your training pels warp with a single decent blow!"

The newly awakened Barlton smacked his lips and rolled his massive shoulders, sending a bit of masonry crumbling, before flashed the sobbing Narri an evil grin. "Maybe you'd like a good wrestling match, in honor of your friend?"

Narri screamed.

Jack felt a surge of adrenaline race down his spine as the eyes of a lion, or such was the man's presence, met his own.

But all Drake did was laugh and clap. "Oh indeed, my fine friend. A workout is definitely in order. Come! Both of you. Redeemed guard and fallen servant, I think you'll both make wonderful additions to our party. Let's head to the Silver Wand inn, and see who else is willing to join us!"

And before more than a handful of minutes had passed they had left the de Leone estates, and Jack had no doubt that they looked a sight, Narri in his tattered servant's attire and Barlton wearing a patchwork quilted gambeson under a massive hauberk of steel mail that ended just above his knees, his lower legs protected by thick, reinforced leather boots. His open faced helm was clearly custom made and looked to be of finest steel, as did the rim of the massive shield that was also covered in a thin sheet of metal over the hardwood core. Jack knew it would be far too heavy for most warriors to use for any length of time, but it looked as light as a feather, held in the casual grip of a hand considerably larger than Jack's own.

Tools of the warriors or guard's trade Barlton had pulled out of the storage bag Jack hadn't been expecting him to be carrying while snoring in his secured accommodations, though the weighty looking cross between a war hammer and mining pick he had pulled out somehow fit the self-proclaimed dwarf to a Tee. And the broad-bladed leaf-shaped gladius Barlton now had sheathed at his left hip was just a common sense backup weapon for any warrior, Jack thought.

But as strange a sight as they no doubt looked to the nobles gazing at them in passing as they took their morning constitutionals along the cherry tree lined boulevard perpetually graced by gentle showers of those glorious pink blossoms, Drake's father, who had stepped out in full regalia, beamed in approval at the sight of a fully kitted Barlton.

"Don't worry, yer lordship! I'll see yer kit safely home after our first successful delve!"

Lord de Leone had chuckled at those words. "No worries about the deep for yourself, friend Barlton?"

"None at all, yer lordship! A dwarf knows his limits, and I right recon the waking dreams o' this duchy have nothin' on one o' my blood!" He then frowned at the still trembling Narri. "I don't know that this rat's worth the keepin', but I figure me and the elf'll keep yer kit right as rain!"

Jack winced, cheeks flushing with what he refused to call shame. But Drake was peering at Barlton with something close to fascination.

"You can tell? I mean... just by looking at him?"

Barlton snorted with his big bulbous nose and flashed a knowing wink, one giant digit pressing a hairy nostril. "The nose always knows. Besides, he has that wide-eyed confused look of a mixed-breed. More common than you might think, them elven lasses being a hot, lusty bunch!"

He then blinked, clearing his throat at a glaring Jack. "No offense intended, friend elf."

Jack just sighed and shook his head. "So long as that's the last time you mention my mother in any context save respect or fear... none taken." He smirked, holding out his hand. "Let's break all the asinine stereotypes in every fantasy novel I ever read. Name's Jack Evergreen. Pleased to meet you, Bartlon StrongThews. Let's have fun leveling up together and crushing all our foes!"

This declaration was met with a lion's roar of laughter that sent more than one awe-struck noble fleeing, hand securing hats from the sudden seeming gust of wind, as Barlton met Jack's palm with a surprisingly gentle grip. "I think we'll make a right fine party, Jack Evergreen!"

He then turned to bow at Lord de Leone, gazing with a bemused smile at them all, very much like a king his loyal soldiers, Jack couldn't help but think. "Thanks again, your lordship. We won't let you down!"

"Then safe journey to you all." He gazed pointedly at his son, now kitted out in customized plate and mail. "Do you have all the supplies Jevons provided you with?"

To which his son solemnly nodded. "Thank you again, Father. Between you and Jevons, we couldn't be better prepared for this venture."

Jack winced at those words. "Please don't go triggering any black flags, shieldbrother."

Surprisingly it was Barlton who nodded in solemn agreement.

Drake just laughed before giving a pirouette in his armor. "You two worry far too much! Take care, Father. We'll report back after our first delve!" he declared before twisting around and heading in the direction of Silver Wand Inn at as fast and fluid a walk as he would in doublet and hose, his newly empowered body having absolutely no problem with the modest weight of his masterwork suit of steel plates and mail. Jack couldn't help noting and admiring both its obvious protection and the absolute fluidity of movement it allowed, the joints only reinforced with padding and mail, not capped and cupped in ways which would have limited his range of motion considerably.

A full suit of field plate might have been ideal for hiding joints from the bite of half a dozen pikemen striking with razor sharp spear points. But Drake's dungeoneering armor was ideally suited for encountering the smashing paws and sharp teeth one might expect from inhuman foes. Perfect for the perils of the deep. A place where being able to maneuver in corridors and dungeons, and just being able to outrun or dodge the swipes of truly monstrous foes, was the most important consideration of any delver's armor. And Drake's looked to be about as good protection as anyone could hope to have, without being downright magical in nature.

Not that there was anything wrong with magical armor, Jack thought with a smile. "Scutum Glacies. Lapis Armis!" Jack intoned, now covered in crimson plate as well, with a shield the equal to Barlton's in diameter, even if it shimmered like liquid blood.

Drake blinked while Barlton laughed. "Well, twist my beard and dye it pink! An elven battlemage!"

"Well he sure isn't an archer, so he almost has to be the other," snarked Drake.

"Ha ha, stereotypes again," Jack said, before matching their grins. "Even if they happen to be true. Because it just so happens that I can shoot a bow, Drake. Surprisingly well, actually."

"Not really," Barlton said. "You were probably born with a bow in your hand."

Jack laughed. "As a matter of fact, I hardly ever shot one, except for the very few summers I did some hunting with my father. Actually, I was mostly just a lazy farmboy who wiled away too many warm summer days rereading my favorite tomes. At least, that's how I always saw myself, until I dared the Path of Peril, just a few short months ago.

"As for my Elven heritage? I was just a kid with a beautiful mum that half my friends fell instantly in love with. And their admiring glances and envious glares at my father for claiming a wife that looked little older than any girl of twenty summers was almost worth the embarrassment of funny looking ears that me and my sisters got so used to hiding with our hair that we hardly paid them any attention at all. A quirk of nature that no one save our loved ones would ever see."

He then gazed pointedly at their armor, before grinning with pride for his own arcane constructs, even if they were costing 50 mana in total to reserve right now. "And if you guys are going all out with your 'leet gear, well hell, I want in on this peen measuring contest too!"

Barlton roared with laughter at that, as did Drake, and the piteous whimper of a despairing Narri, wearing the same dirt and bloodstained clothes he was caught in, and looking like he would rather be anywhere else, just made them laugh all the harder.

And Jack couldn't help but feel a certain measure of pride and excitement, striding forth with purpose alongside his boon companions, savoring the surprised glances and averted eyes of nobles and guards alike, excited for the prospect of what was to come.