Day 5, 10:20 AM

“I’m Lucella.” Lucy nods as she introduces herself officially.

“I’m Gizella,” Gizella does the same, but instead of nodding she opts for a curtsy. It was meant as a cute, playful gesture, but decades spent on court make it hard not to cringe. I manage, barely.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, I’m Griff.” I flash a winning smile, and it wins them over. With a moment of calm, I open my status screen, assign my point to physique, and check my level up condition.

To level up, defeat two combatants with their favored weapon simultaneously.

I like it! Simple, straightforward, and seeing the girls also have clubs, something easily achieved with a stick, some time, and a good enough excuse. Maybe training? Helping them improve their skill?

I let a silence descend, interrupted only by the rain’s eternal drumming and Fred’s dry heaving.

“So, do you think I’m good enough to be on your team,” I ask the blushing girls, and they nod with zeal while Fred grunts.

“What are you plotting?” he manages through deep breaths.

“I’m not plotting anything. I just want to have companions on my first delve in this region’s dungeon.”

“An outsider?” Fred plays a stereotypical, suspicious, antagonistic brat, but the girls are more open to a pretty face.

“Where do you hail from?”

“How did you get here?”

“I’m from Grayfort, I had a falling out with my family, and now I’m here. Once I become strong enough, I’ll go back home and force them to listen to me.” It turns out that Edna’s brief history of Griff, the Rider family, and extensive descriptions of regional geography won’t be a waste after all.

The girls look at me with dreamy eyes, and even Fred is somewhat intrigued. Being rebellious and defying the family while striving to become important and powerful has great appeal to young people, and it makes sense for the young adult Griff to have such motivations. I’d slap him silly if he were my child.

“What’s Grayfort like?”

“Are the forests between forts really that dangerous?”

Even Fred joins the questioning. “What kind of monsters did you see?”

“I took the safeway, only getting off it to bypass the gatekeepers. The most dangerous thing I’ve seen was some monsters fighting from a distance, and Grayfort is gray, bleak, with walls looming over you.”

“Just like home.” Gizella sighs, probably disappointed with the boring world we live in.

I nod, smiling reassuringly, and shift my attention to Fred. “The forests near the forts have next to no monsters, while the ones near the safeway are lethal to those at our level. But I hope I can return home through the wilderness once I’ve leveled enough in the dungeon. Who knows, maybe we kill the wormlord and get the dungeon’s reward.”

Aside from the feasibility of killing an entity the world’s greatest mages had to band together just to bind, there are no facts supporting the popular folk tales stating that killing a wormlord would grant the delvers earth-shaking powers. At least according to Edna.

But a fancy tale like that was also something she had woven into Griff’s story, to make him appear more youthful and gullible. Pitching such nonsense annoys the parent in me, even if my children aren’t here. Hopefully, they are still residing safely and happily in a different world. Then I wonder whether my story annoys me because I’m too old and callous. It’s been ages since I’ve been young. Maybe I’m just too old fashioned?

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Mentioning the dungeon reward to distract the kids worked, much to my displeasure, and even Fred perked up.

“You plan to delve all the way in? I want to be a guard, like my father, but they won’t take you unless you have activated your guide and have at least fifty points in physical attributes.”

“Wow, that’s harsh,” I start lying through my teeth. “I think you can get the job in Grayfort with three fifteens.”

Fred nods. “Three fourteens are enough in Tallrock, but you need a total of fifty to become an officer, a total of fifty-five for them to even consider you for the position of the captain. If I can start off at fifty before I take the guard class, I’ll be a shoo-in for the captain’s position, and that opens up a rare class, guard captain.”

Fred shares his progress for the next three classes with great enthusiasm, his animosity forgotten as I ooh and wow at his great ideas.

A glance at my stats tells me I’m not just a viable candidate for the guard and officers, but also for the obviously prestigious class of guard captain.

I wonder if there’s a squire to knight to royal knight chain in here, and whether it’s as powerful as I suspected it to be.

“So, I’m guessing you’re all right with Griff joining the party, Fred.” Lucy interrupts Fred’s daydreams and empty bragging. “If you are, I think we can safely explore the first four or five levels of the dungeon before we have to turn back.”

“Yes, yes,” Fred bobs his head up and down like a chicken, or whatever insect bobs its head on Everrain.

“Great,” Gizella says, pointing in the dungeon’s direction. “Onwards to victory!”

I really like those words and enthusiasm. The rain isn’t dampening her spirit, but I guess that’s normal in a world in which it perpetually rains. God, it’s annoying. I wonder how much time I’ll take to get used to the endless pitter-patter and the smell of rain.

“So, Griff, why’d you choose Tallrock castle?” Lucy asks a question Edna prepared me for. In fact, the old witch drilled me half the night asking various questions, listening to my responses, then correcting me when my answers were too dry or not native enough.

“Tallrock is closer to the border of civilization, and there should be three dungeons nearby, one near the walls themselves, the other two further away, towards the corrupted lands. After I complete my first dungeon, I’ll move on to the second, then the third. With three dungeons under my belt, I’ll be the most powerful man in the world.”

I feel like I’m trying to top Fred’s silly story about being a guard captain and having a good life eating big fat slugs, but apparently this world’s culture is like that. People daydream and indulge in wild fantasy.

“Why are you going to the dungeon, Lucy?”

“I want to be strong enough to travel between the castles. I don’t know whether I want to be a merchant or a messenger, but I want to see the world. It can’t all be bleak like Tallrock.”

Her wish resonates with me better than Fred’s. I’d like to offer her some advice, but I don’t know enough about the world. What I can offer is encouragement.

“Really? That’s so brave of you! Which class are you aiming for?”

She shrugs. “Peddler, messenger, wanderer; I don’t know, something to make my travels easier, more comfortable, or more profitable. I’m not doing it for the money, but if I can’t make myself more comfortable through skills, I will do so through high quality and high utility belongings or by staying in more comfortable inns.”

I nod once in approval. The girl’s got a good head on her shoulders, as long as she’s strong enough—.

“Your plan sounds great,” Blunt starts and I continue, “as long as you’re strong enough to protect yourself or fast enough to escape danger. This is a dangerous world, and you have to be ready for danger on the road.”

She smiles at me, gratitude in her eyes. I’m not sure whether she’s grateful for the advice or for the support, but it hardly matters, building a solid rapport is the most important thing right now. I want to look like these kids and I are close friends by the time we reach the inquisitors and the dungeon.

Fyoor, a wanted murderer, can’t possibly be a twenty-something-year-old youth, hanging out with other youths.

“What about you, Gizella?”

“Call me Gila.” She flutters her eyelashes at me, a cute smile on her lips. “I want to be a tailor.”

Tailor? I can’t recall the last time I was as surprised. I frown, trying to find the logic, but I can’t fathom why a person who dreams of being a seamstress would ever delve into a dungeon.

I give her the best smile I can muster. “I’m sorry, Gila, I don’t follow.”

“Opening a shop is very expensive, and you have to pay a master for apprenticeship, my family was too poor, so I’ve been forced to become a maid, to work for food and shelter, but I want to run my own store and to learn a respectable craft.”

So you decided to go to a deathtrap from which those unprepared, such as girls wearing normal clothes and wielding a single thick stick as a weapon, dreaming of being a tailor, never return? Are you insane, girl, or are you just that desperate?

“That’s a noble motive, Gila. How old are you?”

“Seventeen.” She flutters her eyelashes at me again, and I have to reevaluate their ages. I thought she was nineteen or twenty.

“What about you, Lucy?”

“Nineteen.”

I missed by four years. I look at Fred. “And you, Fred?”

“Twenty.”