All of them gazed at the final fading of their fortunes with bitter chuckles and looks of dismay.

Barlton looked heartbroken, sobbing great big tears as Veti gave him a hug. "There there, Bart. There will be other veins we will find one day, I promise you that." She flashed a hopeful smile. "I mean, with your nose to lead the way, how can we fail to do so?"

Drake flashed a brilliant smile. "And now that we don't have to worry about our level-up costs bloating to absolute absurdity, we might actually get strong enough to dare whatever deeps our fortunes might be hiding in!"

Aroust perked up at that, even as Elof flashed a pain-filled grimace. "Some of us will, anyway."

Drake gave the crestfallen Elof a companionable hug. "And in the meantime, you'll still find yourself an adventurer to recon with, so that by the time you retire, you'll be a near immortal warrior in his teens with wealth, prestige, and a dwarven princess for a wife."

Elof perked up at those words. "I certainly hope so, anyway!"

Aroust, however, was gazing at them all with a bemused twinkle in his eyes. "So you think we're broke? Aren't you lads and sweetest lass forgetting something?"

Veti scowled. "I'd take offense, if I weren't indeed just that sweet. And beautiful, I might add," she said playfully, though her eyes widened at the way Barlton encircled her with his arms, cheeks blazing as the massive warrior kissed her head. "That ya are, me lass."

Aroust blinked at that while Drake chuckled, and Veti, despite her blazing cheeks, was beaming with happiness.

"And what is it we're forgetting?" Veti asked at last, letting the flustered Aroust off the hook, who immediately grinned, pointing to his own set of now crimson plate covered leathers.

"Why, the armor forged by our party's runesmith and enchanter, for all that he claims not to have any classes at all." His bemused grin made his thoughts clear on that. "Armor that's not just as strong as mithril, but fused with a strength that I suspect even elite delvers would be proud to call their own."

Jack grinned, because it was true. Even his quilted aketon he used to anchor his Crimson Armor upon he had infused with resilience boosted liquid mithril, such that when he willed it hardened again, his quilted gambeson had effectively become a variant of armor known, appropriately enough, as a jack-of-plates. Though normally the plates were of iron, sewn between layers of felt and canvas. Whereas Jack's aketon had been infused with plates of mithril, his own talents for sewing that bordered on the arcane assuring enough mithril laden threads between the mithril pieces that his armor was almost as flexible as it had been before, and as indestructible as if the mithril plates had been connected by links of mail, and not all hidden so conveniently between infused and strengthened layers of quilted fabric that was his gambeson.

And the best thing was, it was additive with his crimson armor spell. Any blow that actually burst through the impact dampening enchantments of his masterwork spell would still have to burst through the underlying mithril and padding.

And perhaps Jack had somehow let out the seams a bit to compensate for arms far more muscular than he remembered while lost in a haze of creative insight more than one adventuring companion had jokenly referred to as a faerie's reverie, with a little bit of extra room for his arms and chest to grow even a bit more, should he end up following a path of strength, when he eventually chose his class.

Perhaps it was thanks to his mystical Soul Weaver art, Fabricate, shooting all the way up to Journeyman Rank 4, now including a perk allowing him to incorporate mithril or any other metal or arcane substance into his weave.

The important thing was that his aketon, or extended length gambeson and quilted leggings, were now both priceless and nearly indestructible without at all looking like it, a service he had also performed for the quilted gambeson Veti now also wore as her own. And even if they wouldn't catch the force of an opponent's blow quite so well as Aroust's own armor, or the armor Elof could no longer wear, the armor wouldn't burst, just transfer the impact though much reduced, much like Barlton's now indestructible knee length mail hauberk, but with a heck of a lot of padding as well.

And best of all, no one would know just how precious and priceless their quilted armor truly was, and Jack supposed the fellows could paint their armor as well, to hide it's nature. And one thing he had insisted upon for all of them, even Veti, was infusing their open-faced helmets such that they were all but indestructible. A hard enough blow might break their neck, but nothing would burst through the helm and crack their skulls. Those he couldn't hide the nature or value of quite so well as their gambesons, but their safety was one thing Jack was unwilling to compensate on. Besides, painting their armor any of a dozen variants of black, using everything from pitch to salts to dye, much like Aroust had originally done with his armor, was a common enough practice for armsmen in this part of the world at least.

The only real drawback, as far as Jack was concerned, was them daring to wear their blackened and in most cases well-padded armor under the midday summer sun. That would get very dangerous very quickly, for anyone lacking a Delver's resilience, though casually walking or riding with a white tabard would be safe enough for anyone as long as they had plenty of water on hand. At least they didn't have to worry about the cold!

Barlton gave a considered nod. "True ya are, battle brother. But it's not like we're ever gonna sell these pretty suits o' armor! Not only are they near indestructible and worth a fortune, they'll be keepin' our hides in one piece as we dare ever deeper delves!"

Jack grinned. "True, friend Barlton. And should we actually one day find enchanted armor that's it's equal or better..."

"We'll be strong enough we won't have to fear our original prizes stolen or claimed by a rogue noble or corrupt adventurers for a pittance of their true value," whispered a suddenly worried-looking Veti.

Aroust smirked. "And there's the truth of it, something none of us dared to voice before now. I think it's good that we invested in ourselves, my friends. Because do you really think that the powers-that-be would have let us keep our wealth, once we had pulled it free of the deeps?"

Drake frowned at this. "What exactly are you saying, Aroust?"

The duelist favored Drake with an almost pitying smile. "Come, my friend. You should know at least as well as I how duplicitous and treacherous noble intrigue can be. Do you think adventurers with a taste for power, adventurers who have chosen to make their home a city now sanctioned by the Guild, no less, would have any compunctions about claiming whatever absurd artifacts and treasures from the deep a band of complete noobs managed to uncover?"

Aroust's cynical pronouncement was met with sudden heavy silence, furrowed brows heavy with both surprise, disgust, and eventual acceptance.

"Shit, I think you just might be right, friend Aroust."

"Of course he is," said Elof with a bitter chuckle. "When do the powerful not take whatever they want from those weaker than themselves?"

Veti shook her head in mute protest. "But half of us here are of noble blood, and the honor of adventurers—"

"—is a coin like any other," Aroust declared. "Only carefully spent, and no one would sully their reputation or their own self-image, robbing a few gold coins worth of loot from an up-and-coming party that had a successful run. Their own memories of more innocent times would have them grant us all fatherly smiles more than anything else, perhaps even a few guiding words for the payment of our own well-regard, enhancing the warm tales of their own lives that they tell themselves."

Aroust's bemused gaze hardened. "But should we actually pull free a fortune that would make kings green with envy..."

Drake sighed... "One can only wonder how many men and women who think themselves good people, who take comfort in envisioning their own righteous nobility, wouldn't find themselves almost eagerly trading away their innocence and warm self-regard for the cold sweet promise of unrivaled power."

Veti paled. "But that means, even our armor..."

And now Barlton was shaking his head with an angry scowl. "Tis not the case with a dwarven clan, I can assure ya of that!"

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"Perhaps, when you yourself are a royal heir, however humble the mask you show us, Barlton," said Drake. "But remember, we're not in your clan's holdings, with a dozen loyal miners that double as bodyguards by your side, all eager to commend your wealth, as it is your entire clan's wealth, and showcases their honor as well. Here in a city of a million strangers... one low level dwarf and his friends pulling free wealth that could make any powerful adventurer a king..."

Barlton paled and shook his head. "Yer right, lad. As much as I hate ta say it, yer right." He gave a powerful, booming chuckle. "Well, at least with our armor, our foes would have ta tear it off our flesh!"

Veti nodded. "And exotic as our armor looks, with what Jack did to it... It all still radiates magic, but no longer tastes like the raw sparkly flavor of mithril in the air. Rather, it tastes like, well, wardings and blood." She flushed at those words, glancing almost apologetically at Jack before going on. "Does that mean it won't be considered anywhere near as valuable as the original mithril because, well..."

"The priceless amount of mithril ore I transformed with my blood magic and mystic runes now counts as artifacts that no normal enchanter will be able to reforge as anything else?" Jack carefully said.

"Well, yes," Veti said.

Jack grinned. "Somehow I doubt very many people who aren't masters of certain skills themselves will be able to melt our armor down to priceless ore once more."

Drake looked at him strangely. "But you can, can't you Jack?"

Jack winked. "That would be telling. The important thing is that no one else can. And it's not like we can't paint the armor black, to further hide its origins."

Drake frowned thoughtfully, turning to Veti. "Is it true? Could anyone..."

But Veti was adamantly shaking her head. "The enchanters living here work with tiny amounts of pure mithril ore, forging them into wondrous creations. They are the masters of the minute. If you actually told them to somehow melt down mithril armor infused by masterwork bloodrunes, they would look at you like you're a madman."

Barlton chuckled softly, tussling Veti's hair in affectionate agreement. "Even a dwarven master smith might find that a bit... ahem... challenging."

Aroust smirked but nodded. "True enough. But neither wizards nor powerful adventurers are fools. They'll understand we've stumbled into at least something of priceless value, soon enough. Which means that our next step should be obvious."

"And what would that be?"

"We delve the deeps at every opportunity, doing all we can to level ourselves up and get stronger, taking advantage of the incredible boon Jack earned us."

All of them swallowed at that pronouncement, Veti paling only slightly. "Aroust, it's been months since we've enjoyed a fresh spring day. Since I've even seen the sun!"

The duelist nodded solemnly. "I know. And I'm still the highest leveled among us at Level 6. You, Barlton, and Drake still have yet to hit level 4, in our efforts to maximize the mithril saturation that granted us the greatest boons of our lives, and Jack and Elof are still level 1! Hell, Elof still has to finish healing his soul, and Jack hasn't even finished picking a class. And even the weakest party that still declares Greyspeak their home are between levels 11 and 15. And there are two other groups that I suspect are stronger. Much stronger."

Drake blinked. "How do you even know this?"

The duelist smirked. "If I had had time to show you, which I didn't before we all took the portal demarcated as green... the party of three that enjoys mocking new would-be delvers, and if you think their doing that to be cruel you truly are a fool... have claimed and stabilized the Yellow. And for all that you don't hear a whisper or a word about other groups, they must be here, and active, for orange has also been claimed, which means that at least one party of adventurers that mapped out that delve is between the levels of 16 to 20. At least."

All of them paled at the significance of those words.

Aroust flashed a humorless grin. "And If you think for one moment that we won't have targets on our backs, the moment we give even the slightest hint about our newfound wealth, even without declaring a fortune in mithril..."

Drake opened his mouth to protest, before slowly snapping it shut. "Gods, level 20 delvers. Delvers that might not even give a rat's ass for Guild declarations, else they wouldn't even be here." He gave a bitter shake of his head. "Somehow I don't think the threat of the duke's displeasure is enough to dissuade them, is it?"

Aroust flashed a bleak smile that didn't reach his ice cold blue eyes. "I think you already know the answer to that... Your Grace."

Drake chuckled bitterly. "You've known all along. Even before we consolidated our fortunes into our armor... and ourselves. Why? Why didn't you say anything before?"

Aroust shrugged. "All that would have done is discourage us when we needed to be stronger and more resolved than ever. In truth, my hope was that between a branch of the guild bank being associated with the Silver Wand Inn, along with a very very generous bribe given to the powers-that-be that would no doubt manifest with shark-toothed grins, yet be more than happy to act as our 'adventuring guides' in return for a very generous cut, would have been enough both to assure our safety, and perhaps net us a few powerful allies, or at least oaths of noninterference that have nothing to do with Guild tenants."

The duelist's gaze hardened. "But the bottom line is, that we might have been able to square away at least two thirds of our wealth that which we wouldn't be surrendering in tithes and gifts. And that wealth we would most definitely be depositing into the care of the Guild via their bank, which even our Orange Tier friends would think twice about crossing, because I promise you, a party of truly powerful delvers would be making their way to the city in a matter of days, if not hours. Both to fete us, and secure our fortunes which at that moment would also be the Guild's fortunes." He flashed an oddly sympathetic smile. "But as to your dreams of actually gifting anything more than token scraps to your father or uncle? That, I'm afraid, was and could only be a pipe dream, friend Drake."

Drakes face flashed with a dozen expressions ranging from frustration to outrage before settling at last upon bitter acceptance. "Because for even a fraction of that wealth, those delvers in the shadows could cut us down in an eyeblink, cut down an entire regiment in seconds, and stage a coup within a day. Then all they'd need to do is open their doors to the Guild, along with a nice cut of Mithril ore for the Guild heads, and they'd be welcomed with open arms by all the hidden powers on the board, and if they swore themselves as an independent vassal state to either Erovering or Velheim, their status as the uncontested rulers of my uncle's duchy would proceed without a hitch. And no Guild Head or Neighboring nation would think twice at the cost of lives, any complaints made or cries of havoc or foul play would be drowned out as propaganda by the nation with the most to lose, because the winners certainly wouldn't say a word, and the Guild would be happy for a new clan ascendant that welcome them back, especially with a fortune in mithril to smooth the way."

Aroust nodded. "Which is why our first stop would be to the Guild Bank, even if we end up promising a fortune for what amounts to an armed escort of a couple hundred paces to whatever delver of significance might pop up out of nowhere to great us. Whereupon we would declare all our winnings at the branch conveniently located in the room adjoining the tavern, which would make us instant stars within the guild, not to mention avert any risk of civil war.

"Even if the Guild grows exponentially in power, at least we will be feted and honored at whatever chapter we end up at, to say nothing of being outrageously rich ourselves. Of course, Greycliff's power is on the wane either way, but at least that path avoids a bloodbath when the Guild eventually returns and takes over, and you being both adventurer and member of the ruling house, Drake, will be able to use your influence to keep your family in good health, and as rich as the lords they once were, thanks to your cut, even if they do end up in exile." He flashed a bemused smile. "Who knows? With that fortune behind us, your clan might still be allowed to keep their title, and they'd owe it all to you."

Aroust then pointedly gazed at massive chamber lit with a thousand sparkling crystalline lights that had been their home for so many months. Still beautiful with its clear blue waters filled with darting fish, countless crystals of quartz and stranger elements still, sparkling their cool soothing light down upon them, though the walls were now strangely bare of the mysteries that had filled their days with such enchantment and nights with glorious dreams of wealth and power.

Jack blinked, feeling a chill shiver down his spine when he gently placed his hand upon what had once been a jewel-studded piece of the Midnight Mantel, now feeling only cool limestone studded with chips of shimmering quartz.

He turned to Elof. "How are you feeling?"

Elof actually grinned. "Believe it or not. I'm feeling fine. More than fine! Would you believe my soul's actually craving adventure again?"

Veti flashed a relieved smile. "I think that's a very good sign. Maybe you're ready to adventure after all!"

Aroust gave a friendly nod. "And you will tell us before you're ready to level up, won't you, lad?"

Elof rolled his eyes, but his smile gave away how much he appreciated everyone's concern. "Yes, Aroust. I'll let you know if I get any unexpected perks. Otherwise, my focus it to become a shield specialist."

The dwarf beamed. "There's a good lad!"

Jack took a final look around what had been their home for countless months. On the one hand it had the familiarity of a second home. On the other hand... he couldn't wait to leave. "I think it's time we headed out. I don't suppose your nose smells anything interesting does it?"

Aroust chuckled softly. "Wouldn't that be a wonder if it..." He blinked, eyes widening as he put his nostrils to work. "By the elder's beard! I do smell somethin'... I do! Come on, boys, we got ore ta mine!" With those words the dwarf was almost frantically breaking up their camp, a bemused Jack happy to put as much in storage as would fit in his soul pouch, which was pretty much everything, and then they were off, Drake flashing Jack a rueful smile as the dwarf seemed to all but charge for an odd twist in the cavern Jack swore he had never seen before that moment, all but disappearing into the shadows. "You just had to get him started, didn't you?"

"Come on, boyo's times awaisten'!"

Jack frowned, the dwarf already sounding like he was a hundred yards ahead of them, feeling a shiver of apprehension and wonder. Insight check successful! - Before wonder turned to sudden alarm.

"Come on, faster! We have to stick together, or we might never see him again!"