It was remarkably warm in the underground society, as the source of it came from the giant furnaces near to the entrance, being worked at tirelessly by blacksmiths who relentlessly pounded steel with their hammers.
As he walked onto the wooden floored street of the cavernous city, he leaned to the side a bit as sparks flew from the repeated slams of the blacksmiths’ hammers–CLANG. CLANG. CLANG. The jarring sound repeatedly struck his ears, though he continued along.
‘Well, it’s as energetic as ever down here,’ he thought as he kept moving.
There were bare establishments without walls, all running seamlessly together; one of which was a bar built into the wall to his left. It also served as a gathering for adventurers, who filled the tables and drank booze while loudly proclaiming their accomplishments.
“Didja hear?! Worlo took down a wyvern!”
“Bullshit! I bet that runt hasn’t even touched the eighth floor!”
“Saw it with my own eyes!”
The bickering and laughter of the intoxicated adventurers was the natural ambience near the bar area, along with the aroma of mead–a strong, fruit-like smell that mingled with the powerful smell of hot steel that came from the blacksmith quarters.
He found himself having to carefully maneuver through the area, with people coming-and-going in every direction busily. By the shoddy clothes and young age most were, he knew what their occupation and tasks were; the youth carried notes, delivering them to the hands of awaiting members of the Veil.
‘Listeners. The bread and butter of the Veil; just about every kid not born into a well-off family in this city works for the Veil, acting as the eyes and ears around the city,’ he thought.
A small bridge arched over a flowing stream that ran through the underground territory, meeting his ears with the sound of rampant water. Despite the enclosed scenery of pale, chalky stone of the cavernous environment, or perhaps because of it, the Veil felt peaceful in a way; away from the prying eyes of the city above.
It was a place without judgment, as most people there came from nothing, born without any gifts, yet found their place in the boundless opportunities it provided.
“Bast! I thought you kicked it!”
A boisterous voice called out to him loudly, bringing him to turn his gaze to the side as he found himself looking at a tall, well-built man with a scruffy beard and shoddy armor that was a mix of leather and dented steel.
“If any of us is croaking first, it’s you, Roy,” Bastian replied, greeting the ponytail-wearing man.
His response earned a small laugh from the jovial man, who placed his hands on his sides, one of which was fully made of steel, yet moved seamlessly as if of flesh. There was no doubt the man was an adventurer, especially with the four sets of swords sheathed on his hip[s, hanging from his leather belt.
“I can’t deny that. If you aren’t living life on the edge, then what’s the point? There’s nothing to make life more valuable than putting it on the line,” Roy claimed with a smile, holding his metallic hand up as his split, black cape swayed.
“I think a lot of people would argue against that, but you do you. Anyway, what’s up?” Bastian asked.
Roy leaned against the side of the bridge, overlooking the lively stream, “I was actually sent to look for you. Saved me a hassle, so thanks.”
“Sent for me? Did Bilo send you?” Bastian asked, “I know they had something to discuss with me, but I didn’t think it was that urgent.”
“Well, the Boss seems to think so, so best move with some haste,” Roy told him as he tapped his own fist against his chest before taking his leave, “Live free.”
“Live free,” Bastian repeated the saying, doing the same gesture as he placed his hand over his heart, though not with much enthusiasm.
Now his curiosity was piqued, if the metal-armed adventurer himself was sent to retrieve him for whatever it was that he needed to hear. The society beneath the surface was quite extensive; he passed over the bridge, going through a market of wares being sold that were either illegally obtained or illegal to sell.
A twirly-mustache merchant stood with his rich, silken vest, accompanied by a couple sellswords with a display of enchanted weapons; swords etched with fiery seals, shields imbued with magic-negating power, and even a dagger that the merchant displayed, capable of waving around in the air without a touch.
“Ah, Bastian! Can I interest you in any of my wares today?” The merchant called out to him just as the young man was passing by.
He came to a stop as he glanced over, looking at the greedy man who twirled his own facial hair with fingers each bearing exuberant rings of their own.
“Sorry, but I think I’ll pass,” Bastian declined.
“Ah, perhaps another day then,” the owner of the enchanted gear said, maintaining his smile.
As he moved along through the merchant alley, he found himself now surrounded by the aroma of fresh, hot-and-ready food, as a mixture of savory and sweet flooded his senses.
Though it was tempting, he remembered his agreement with his friend, pushing onward as he left the line of underground restaurants.
There was a neighborhood of homes, some built directly into the stone, some made of the rocky, pale-gray material, or others of light-brown wood. Children played around the homes, running about freely.
Eventually, he passed by it all, following a set of stone-carved steps that led up to a single room that overlooked the Veil, built into the hide of the cavern itself. A metal door stood between him and the room, which he knocked on a few times–
“Come in,” a feminine voice called out from behind the door.
He pressed his hand against the thick, steel door, pushing it open as he entered the room. It was a cramped chamber, somehow both disorganized and organized at the same time, as maps were pinned to the walls and books littered the floor.
Standing in the room, inspecting one of the maps with their back turned to him was a girl, small in stature, with short, silver hair. On the top of her head were two, fluffy ears of a feline that moved at the sound of the visiting adventurer’s footsteps.
“Took you long enough,” she said, turning around to face him as her scarlet eyes locked onto the young man.
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The girl was pale, seeming to spend most of her time in the underground by the looks of it, wearing a black-and-brown cloak that draped over her baggy, oak jacket.
“It’s not exactly a small place. It gets bigger every time I see it,” Bastian replied as he walked around the room, being cautious as not to step on any of the books or documents on the floor, “You’ve really built the Veil into its own city, Bilo.”
“It’s not easy to manage, but someone has to do it. Anyway, seeing as you're alive in one piece, I’m guessing you got through the dungeon without a hitch?” Bilo asked, walking over to the table in the center of the room that was littered with documents and trinkets.
By the bags under the young woman’s eyes, it seemed as though sleep was a mere suggestion for herself. She gathered some of the loose documents, shuffling them together and straightening them out as he watched.
He picked up one of the books laying around–”Archive of the Eleventh Floor”--glancing at it and setting it down before he responded, “I did, but your info almost got me killed.”
“Oh?” Bilo looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah, a few skeletons were present in an area you said was clear. Luckily, I got past them but it could’ve gone bad,” he told her.
Bilo smiled, lifting her hands as if shrugging it off, “Dungeons are unpredictable. Things move. You made it through, that’s all that matters. And my cut?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bastian mumbled as he flicked a silver coin over to the girl.
The silver-haired, lithe woman caught it with one hand, pocketing it with a small smirk, “Nice doing business with ya’. Anyway, I’ve got something I need to discuss with you–a contract.”
“A contract?”
“Not just any contract either: let’s just say our client is a powerful figure in Velmusia. They specifically asked for you,” Bilo told him as her scarlet eyes stayed on him.
It was a surprise to hear, but it certainly piqued his interest. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t going to be happy about whatever the offer was.
The cloak-wearing woman reached over with her fingerless, black gloves, retrieving the tattered book he was looking at along with a rolled-up map, setting them down flat on the table as she cleared some space.
“The client who contacted the Veil is Frederic Ul Samson, the current head of the Samson family. I’m sure you know him, or know his influence: he owns the land where the kingdom gets all of its gold,” Bilo explained.
“You weren’t kidding. That’s a big name. What’s he want from me though?” Bastian asked.
Bilo opened the book as she flipped it over to where a feather bookmark was kept, revealing a page that showcased a drawing of a dazzling crystal. The young man stood beside her, glancing down at the entry in the book.
“Frederick is interested–no, desperate–for the “Chrono Crystal.” And if he wants something, he’s willing to spend as much as he needs for it. I’m talking more than enough to cover a dozen dungeon expeditions–maybe even more. It only exists within the tower, on the eleventh floor to be exact–”
“Not interested,” Bastian cut her off as soon as the specific floor was mentioned.
Bilo furrowed her eyebrows as her ears flicked, seeming disgruntled at the complete shutdown, though not saying anything right away as she looked at the young man.
He looked at the opened book as his emerald irises inspected the text, though not actually reading anything he saw.
There was an unshakable reason why the skills of a “dungeon crawler” like himself were always of high value; the dungeons that occupied each floor of the mystical Tower always changed—it could be from one day to the next, or perhaps weeks or months, but eventually, all dungeons mysteriously rearrange themselves.
Sometimes the layout is altered, the creatures within it, or even the traps that await greedy adventurers—but one thing never changes: the precious treasure laying dormant.
“C’mon, Bast. We’re talking about the biggest client we’ve ever had here. He made it clear that you were the only one he trusted to do this,” Bilo said, trying to reason with him.
“I’m never going that high in the tower again. Sorry, but I’ve got my own reasons,” Bastian told her.
Bilo sighed, folding her arms over her chest as she leaned against the table, “I get it. This is different from that time though–the eleventh is a whole lot different from the eighteenth floor. It’s still dangerous, no doubt about that, but when it comes to expertise in navigating dungeons, you’re the best there is.”
Bastian was hesitant, bringing his hand up as he felt the scar that ran over the bridge of his nose, “How much are we talking about here?”
“Interested?” Bilo asked with a sly smile, tilting her head to the side as she looked up at him.
“Just tell me the price.”
Bilo walked across the room while the curious man watched; she stopped in front of a tall, rectangular safe forged of sable steel before placing her hand against it.
“Open,” she commanded in a whisper.
The single word acted as some sort of key for the enchanted vault as deep-purple seals manifested across it before its door opened itself.
There was an assortment of trinkets, likely of high value, along with jewels, though the silver-haired woman retrieved a small lock box made of ivory.
“What’s that?” He asked as he watched the box be carried over to the table before being set down.
“The first half of the payment,” Bilo said, “Open it up.”
For a moment, he stared at the lavish box that was decorated with cerulean flowers painted along it before reaching over, pressing the mechanism on its front before it clicked. The lid swung open on its own, revealing something all too beautiful for the naked eye: a rainbow of dazzling colors, a spectrum of exuberance that made his thoughts freeze up.
Even though he was no expert in jewels, he knew that the ones that laid in that box were nothing short of monumental in value, nothing like he would find in his lower dungeon expeditions.
As he reached to retrieve a golden necklace that laid in the box–SLAM. It was shut in front of him, closed by the hand of the lithe woman.
“You haven’t agreed to do the job yet, in case you’ve forgotten,” Bilo reminded him.
“...Give me the details and I’ll give you my answer, then,” Bastian hesitantly said through the allure of the expensive jewels.
“Now that’s what I like to hear. It’s not complicated, really. That’s the sweet part of it—our client is entrusting you to decide how the job is done,” Bilo told him.
“So, he’s leaving the thinking and the doing to me. Got it,” he sarcastically replied.
“Just one thing: you’ll be accompanied by one other person,” Bilo told him, staring intently as if gauging his reaction.
A piece of information that made him scrunch his nose; the idea of working with another adventurer—especially one he wasn’t familiar with, wasn’t an idea he was fond of.
“Don’t give me that look. Our client is sending his best fighter to accompany you—his own personal bodyguard,” Bilo informed, “Claxous, The Iron—a ruby-rank.”
“Claxous? I’ve seen him around, I think. Ugh…” A sigh left his lips as he placed his hand over his face upon recalling who the guard was.
“So, will you do it? If so, I’ll leave the finer details and your first half of the payment with you—minus my finder’s fee, of course,” Bilo smiled, grabbing a sapphire necklace and jeweled ring from the box.
“I’m in. Only because it’s you bringing me this job,” Bastian finally accepted after enough thought.
“Great! Here’s everything you need to know then,” Bilo said as she reached beneath her cloak, retrieving a rolled-up document as she handed it to the man, “Live free.”
“Yeah. Live free.”
After taking the document that detailed his contract, along with the initial payment, he took his leave from the underground city. Holding onto such a hefty sum of jewels was certainly not something he preferred to walk around with, making his pace hastened.
On his way out, he acquired the total sum from his earlier dungeon skirmish from the half-giant barter: a handful of silver.
The sun had already dipped beneath the clouds, bestowing a soft, warm glow of sepia over the city as he walked down the quieted down street.
He looked down at the sealed document, not yet opening it as he stuffed it under his coat. The streets were almost too quiet, with only some drunkards left loitering outside of taverns and merchants closing up their shops, though he preferred the muted ambience.
Looming in the distance was the ever present structure that reached into the boundless depths of the sky. The sight of its grand height was as natural as clouds themselves to him, yet still nebulous.
‘I really let her talk me into going back up there. I told myself I wouldn’t go higher than the ninth floor—I guess everyone has a price though,’ he thought.