Lito led me up a flight of stairs and down a hallway to a suite of offices, complete with harried individuals scrawling on paper behind compact desks. One of the offices had a large, dark wooden door with a crest carved into it, featuring a naval vessel and an unfamiliar winged animal with horns. Lito knocked on it gently, and a woman’s voice came from within, telling us to enter.
This office was larger than the ones we’d passed, and was dominated by a wide desk set in front of a wall-sized tapestry featuring a more intricate rendition of the crest set into the door. A dark-haired woman with rich brown skin sat behind the desk, and looked up at us as we entered.
I halted mid-step, literally freezing in my tracks as her hazel eyes caught my own. I couldn’t help but imagine cherry blossom petals raining down around us. A swell of orchestral music filled my ears as she gave me a sly grin. My heart melted so much that I knew in my bones that a man with a lower Fortitude score would be sent into cardiac arrest.
She was beautiful. Too beautiful. My mind struggled and thrashed in the throes of the hackneyed romance trope. My lungs burned as I struggled to release a breath I only now realized I was holding. The dopamine receptors in my brain rebelled at the flood of chemical love that ravaged and ran through them, and yet, I was still awestruck.
She glanced at Lito, then looked me up and down. She was surrounded in a golden glow like the man escorting me, her level the same and with every inch as much power in her soul. The power was inviting, beckoning, whereas Lito’s was quietly menacing, like a whispered threat.
She smiled warmly and gestured for us to come closer, then at a pair of overstuffed arm chairs in front of the desk. My senses returned to me and the paralysis in my chest abated. I took a deep breath. My cheeks were flushed, but the warmth left them in as few moments as it took me to sit down. The flash-flood of obsession drained from my mind, and I blinked a few times, then took another look at her. She was beautiful, there was no doubt. But that didn’t explain the fucking soap opera moment I’d just experienced.
“Hey Lito,” she said as we sat. “What’s up?”
“This is Esquire Arlo,” said Lito, nodding at me. “He’s not in Dalton’s records, so we came to get it worked out.”
“Oh,” the woman said, frowning. She turned to me, “Sorry about that. We take our record-keeping seriously, so I can assure you this is unusual. It’s an easy fix, though. Shouldn’t take a minute.”
She stood and picked up a dark, stone tablet from her desk and brought it around to me. She knelt down by my chair and leaned in close enough that I could feel her body heat. She smelled something like jasmine and vanilla.
A violin concerto played with the sounds of passion and longing. The world was a blurred vignette, with this woman at its center. Inspiration struck, and I knew in my heart of hearts that I must speak my truth to her! That I must find out if she feels the same way! Yes! I will confess my–
[You’re experiencing a disturbing increase in your oxytocin and norepinephrine levels,] came Grotto’s voice in my mind. [I am going to adjust your tolerances.]
My emotions crashed harder than the world economy after the 2008 housing crisis.
“Just put your hand on the tablet, and we’ll get your documentation taken care of. I’m Myria, by the way.”
I put my hand on the stone, which was chill to the touch. Its inky surface was an abyss that echoed my own heart, so broken was I.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, struggling to keep my voice level. “No worries.”
I started to say more, but her presence was still overwhelming and I didn’t want to risk it. Either this was the teenage hormones in my new body taking over or there was some magical effect happening. That’s what I told myself, anyway.
A few seconds went by without anything happening, and I noticed Lito shift a little in his seat. Myria knelt patiently, her hand still on the tablet, just an inch over my thigh. Then, text started to appear on the stone, as though it were carved into it.
“There we go!” Myria said, then stood to study the information. She walked back around to her desk, and I felt like the room cooled by ten degrees. “Esquire Arlo,” she read aloud “Level one platinum.” She looked up at me. “Very impressive. Aiming for a big career?”
“It wasn’t my choice,” I said, and briefly regretted not taking advantage of the factoid. I wasn’t above a little deception here and there, but I was staunchly opposed when it was for something so trivial as merit or impressing strangers. Better to let your own achievements speak for themselves.
The impulse toward braggadocio was another atypical feeling that I cast into a mental bucket with half of the emotions I'd felt since walking into the room, labeled: 'Magically compelled? Or just down bad?'
“I see,” Myria said. “Overeager party leader?”
Someone was overeager...
“Yeah.”
“Still impressive. Maybe even more so. You are alive, after all. Let’s see, records show that you entered the Delve with the creation group, but… hmm. You were a last minute replacement for one of the losons from the Eschendur group.”
Lito grunted.
“The Littan blockade is showing its teeth,” he said. “If they’re already stopping aspiring Delvers from crossing to Hiward, I expect all trade will dry up next. Soon you won’t even be able to buy those mushroom patties you like so much, Myria.”
“If that happens I’ll tear the Imperials apart myself. No one keeps my mushrooms from me.” She flashed me another smile. “Anyway, everything looks to be in order. You must have fallen through the cracks since you were a last-minute add. It says here you’re from the nation of…” She paused and bit her lip. She read something on the tablet again, then snapped her eyes up to the smoking man beside me. “Lito,” she said, her tone losing its friendly warmth.
“Yes, Myria?” Lito asked, sitting forward in his chair.
“His nationality is redacted.”
The pair exchanged an indecipherable series of looks, having some unspoken conversation with their eyes.
Lito scratched his head and looked at me with the first genuine expression he’d given me. Confusion.
“Something, uh, something wrong?”
I was getting concerned. How had I ended up in their records anyway? Was this part of the divine reincarnation package I’d been given? Was the being who resurrected me doctoring the records as well? If so, why did they redact my country of origin? It also had me listed as officially being an esquire, even though I’d fudged that detail after being resurrected. Or cloned. Or whatever had happened.
[This seems to rule out our delusional psychopath theory,] thought Grotto.
[Your theory. Not mine. I knew I wasn’t delusional.] Assuming that one of my delusions wasn’t that I was perfectly sane and not delusional in the first place.
“No,” said Lito. “Nothing wrong. Sorry to waste your time.” He kept staring at me like he was expecting me to tell him something more, but I had no idea what he wanted.
“I guess we’re all squared away,” said Myria. “I’ll get a copy of this to Dalton, and make sure that Central is up-to-date.”
Lito gave another grunt, then stood.
“Esquire Arlo,” he said, “apologies for the rough treatment. Gotta’ be careful, especially after hearing your story about Hognay.”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Hognay?” Myria said.
“Arlo came out with a severed head,” said Lito. “But seeing as how it wasn’t a loson head, then everyone’s accounted for. And Hognay didn’t look like he had scales, fur, or feathers to me, unless you count that greasy mop on his scalp as ‘fur.’”
“An intruder?” said Myria. “That’s… troubling.”
“Killed two from his party on the inside.”
“That’s terrible. Were the victims Hiwardian?”
Lito raised an eyebrow at me.
“One was,” I said. “Chilla Stormreiss. The other was a Littan. Sir Sayil Starion.”
“I’m not familiar with either,” said Myria. “The Littans will insist on an inquiry since one of their own perished.”
“Maybe,” said Lito, turning back to me. “Someone will find you if that’s the case. Where are you staying?”
“I don’t have a place yet.”
“I’ll put ‘unlisted’ on my report,” he gave me a wink, which I didn’t know how to interpret. “Did you kill the guy?”
“Hognay? Yeah.”
“Solo, or with your party?”
“They distracted the big c’thon. I took Hognay on by myself.”
Lito checked out Grotto when I said this, but didn’t rehash the issue of what he was.
“Killed a level two at level zero,” he said. “Even if Hognay was shit, that’s still a feat.”
“I’ll say,” said Myria. She looked me over again, eyes lingering on my boa. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Esquire Arlo. I’ll be here if you have any questions. Don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“Of course,” I said, already planning my next visit. Wait, no! Fuck, I should have taken the Virgin Chad evolution.
She gave me a shallow bow, which I returned, then Lito led me back out.
“You can find your way back?” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Good. I got other shit to do, so have fun.”
He sauntered away without waiting for a reply, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
*****
I walked back to check on Xim and, to a lesser extent, Varrin, with some hard decisions weighing on my mind.
By this point I was beginning to realize that I was out of my league. If Myria had gotten curious about my nationality or wanted more information about how I wound up in Hiward, she could have started asking questions that I had no choice but to answer. I was certain she’d been using magic, and I had no doubts that there were plenty of people out there who could compel me to speak through spells, techniques, or good old fashioned torture.
I’d also played my cards close during the Creation Delve and people had died. Those were deaths I might have been able to prevent, had I been more upfront about the skills available to me. Every fight where I’d played from the back was a fight where I’d unilaterally decided to shelve one of the party’s advantages–my durability. If we’d been less distracted by the fights, Hognay may not have had such an easy time luring Chilla and Sayil away to their deaths.
I’d already given Xim and Varrin a bit of the truth and neither of them had used it against me. Not that they’d had much time to betray me yet, but, dammit I didn’t want to start out this new life slipping into the same habits of my old one. I needed allies, guidance, and a cogent power structure to attach myself to in order to dissuade nosy interlopers. Xim was a citizen of the Third Layer, and that sounded like it held some prestige. Varrin’s attitude and whole lineage speech at the start of the Delve was enough to figure out that his family was rich and powerful.
I approached the room where we’d exited, thoughts darkening my mood with anxiety, and I was surprised to see the two of them standing out in the hall talking, surrounded by their individual entourages.
“Arlo!” Xim said when she saw me, then trotted in my direction.
She’d also taken a spin through the baths and changed her clothes, and she looked like an entirely different person. Her hair was intricately braided, and she had on a light layer of makeup. She wore an outfit that was more flattering to her form, though I could tell the ivory-colored top and charcoal pants were designed to give her free range of movement without getting in the way. Coupled with the high-top leather boots, she still looked like she could kick some ass.
“Hierti told us you went to get cleaned up,” Xim said, “but that was so long ago I started to think you’d left.”
I raised my arms out to my sides in an exaggerated shrug.
“Where would I go?” I said. “There was an issue with my paperwork, and a gentleman named Lito was kind enough to help me get it taken care of.”
“Ah,” she said, then leaned in to speak more softly. “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t be on the lists.”
“I was, actually.”
“Oh, ok. That’s not what I expected. Did you get any more info on what happened to you?”
“Not really.” I looked around at the crowds mingling close to us in the hall. “At this point I think I need to start getting some, I guess, some advice. I’m not the most trusting guy so I’ve held some things back about my situation. At some point I’m going to have to come clean with some people and you and Varrin are the only two people that aren’t strangers to me at this point. I dunno. I also don’t want to info dump on you. I mean, I appreciate that what we went through can sort of bond people, but maybe it didn’t.”
I scratched at my head. Real smooth, Arlo.
“No pressure if you just wanted to check in and then head off with your family,” I rushed to say. “But if you don’t mind talking a bit, that’d be good too. Wow, this is fucking awkward sounding. Basically, I have secrets. No one knows them. But I need to tell someone about them.”
Xim nodded along as I rambled, her expression never changing.
“Sure!” she said, then turned to Varrin. Before she said anything she turned back to me. “You want Varrin along too?”
“What do you think is the right move?”
“He’s pretty influential and owes you his life. He’s also a complete fuck up who nearly got us killed. So, half chance he’s invaluable for whatever it is you need and half chance he’ll ruin your life.”
“Yeah, great. Fuck it. I’ll take the gamble.”
“Varrin!” she yelled, which caught the attention of several of the people from the surrounding groups. The big guy whispered something to his entourage, then made his way over.
“Arlo,” he said, pressing his palms together and giving me a bow, “I am in your debt for everything you did for us inside. I was foolish and my actions endangered our entire group. I humbly apologize for my rashness and ask your forg-”
“We got time for that later,” said Xim. “Arlo has secrets!”
Varrin peered up, still bowing.
“Secrets?” he said.
“Yeah, secrets. We’re gonna find out what they are.”
“I see,” said Varrin, standing back upright. “Is that what we’re doing?”
“I guess so,” I said.
“Does this place have somewhere we can go for some privacy?” Xim asked.
“It does…” Varrin hesitated. “There are a number of party prepping rooms on the far side of-”
“Ok, let’s go!”
“I, um,” Varrin stuttered.
“We’re going to have a chat!” Xim yelled at the rest of their group, sending more heads turning. The woman who looked like Xim’s sister gave us a little smile, while the man with skin like the night sky raised a hand in farewell. Varrin’s group looked distinctly more flustered, but he gave them some sort of signal, and they reluctantly acquiesced.
“Also, hello, Grotto,” Xim added. “How are you? Killed anyone else yet?”
[I have not, but I have many contingency plans in place should the need arise.]
“That’s good. Lead on, Varrin.”
The prep rooms were a five minute walk away and I caught the pair up on my dealings with Lito and Myria, sans all the thirsty bits. Xim also let me know that her parents were planning on giving me some sort of reward, but they hadn’t decided what.
“Those two were your parents?” I said. “I thought the woman was your sister. She looks young, but maybe that’s normal here? I think I’ve seen one person over thirty since I left the Delve.”
“Hmm, well people of the Third Layer age slower than Hiwardians or other First Layer races. I’m twenty-seven, not eighteen like Varrin here. Also, both my parents are Delvers, which slows your aging. High Fortitude slows it even further.”
“My parents were with me as well,” said Varrin. “The couple that was next to me. My father is forty-two.”
“Oh, wow,” I said. “That’s good to know.”
Turns out the System’s joke about Fortitude causing you to outlive your friends and family was true, so long as none of them were Delvers as well.
“Some of the surviving original Delvers are well over a hundred,” Varrin added. “The ones that tackled the higher-tier delves still look like they’re less than sixty. Younger, in some cases.”
“Original Delvers?” I said. “Like, the first?” Varrin nodded, eschewing any odd looks over my ignorance. He’d come to accept it by now. His statement implied that the whole Delver thing was only a hundred or so years old. Maybe less. “Why would only the high-tier Delvers age like celebrities?”
“Takes a lot of Fortitude,” said Xim, “to not die in a thirtieth level platinum Delve.”
“This is us,” said Varrin, opening a door for us to enter. The room was fairly plain, with a single large table and a few chairs and loveseats. Once inside, Xim and Varrin both looked at me expectantly. I dropped into one of the loveseats and took a deep breath.
I told them.
I told them everything. From my death to my character creation, all the way up until I met them at the Delve entrance. I touched briefly on the type of world I came from, but didn’t go into too much detail. Trying to describe an alien world to someone was more difficult than I’d imagined, and I decided to just let them ask questions if they had any.
“Not that I don’t believe you,” said Varrin in a tone that said he didn’t believe me, “but are you willing to show us your character screen?”
“My character screen?”
“It’s considered a rude question outside of things like trying to join a party or signing up for an official position using your Delver credentials. In this case, I think it’s warranted.”
“Honestly, I was hesitant to even tell you what my stats were earlier. But we’re in this deep, so sure.”
You’ve received a request from Varrin Ravvenblaq to view your character screen. Would you like to allow this action? Y/N
I mentally selected yes.