"To lose a friend is to lose a part of the journey, yet the road remains. Walk it slow, for haste only hastens more farewells."— The Tao of Idleness, Book 3, Verse 12.

Our arrival back at Eldhaven from the dungeon felt... anticlimactic. I don’t think I was being outrageous in expecting some form of fanfare. Maybe cheering villagers throwing confetti or something like that? Or, at the very least, a decent feast being laid on by a grateful populace for all our acts of derring-do. Instead, Lia’s home looked exactly as it had when we left—imposing military buildings, bored guards milling around, and a weird earthy smell suggesting the drains may be a touch backed up. It was all a bit . . . underwhelming as a stage for returning heroes.

Still, I suppose surviving a Minotaur in an evolved Shadow Dungeon was its own reward, right? Yeah. Maybe. I still wouldn’t have said ‘no’ to a little light pageantry, though . . .

Kal, Elsie, and Lia walked ahead of me, talking animatedly. Kal was limping slightly, his quiver noticeably lighter after the mess we’d just been through. Elsie didn’t seem too traumatised since Ivor had... sorry, I can’t think of a euphemistic way of saying ‘went splat’. I don’t know, but I would have thought a death in a party would hit a bit harder for a healer? Who knows. But Elise didn’t seem too cut up. In fact, no one we spoke to appeared to see the Mage’s death as anything more than a minor inconvenience.

I’d hung back when Lia had explained to Tweedledum and Tweedledee on the gate why five went out and only four came back, but if I’d hoped for a wailing and a gnashing of teeth, I was to be disappointed.

Actually, I’m ragging on all these guys for being cold fish, but I am a bit troubled by my complete lack of a proper emotional response to the Mage’s death, too. I mean, I suppose I am still going this way and that as to whether he even existed or was just a sad little collection of misfiring neurons. And even if all this is real, I’m sure people kark it in dungeons all the time, right? Must be some kind of operational hazard in this line of work. And it wasn’t like Ivor was my best mate, was it? I didn’t even know the dude’s second name. Still, even taking all of that into account, I still can’t help but think I’ve had a couple of reactions to things recently that don’t show me in a good light.

Quest Complete: Survive the Dungeon. Rewards: 300 XP

Okay, well, that was nice. Maybe the trip wasn’t so bad after all? I’d made out like a bandit with a shedload of XP from just being there, without lifting a finger and then, on top of that, I now get a massive reward for actually doing something? Good times.

Although . . , Hang on. Isn’t it a bit odd that I was just having a moment of quiet, honest self-reflection about my behaviour and then a ‘good news’ notification suddenly pops up? Kind of like there’s someone out there with their finger on a dopamine-hit button and they mash it whenever I start getting a bit introspective?

Rank Up - Skill: Passive Assistance (Rank 2)

You have mastered the art of doing nothing, while everything happens around you. At this level, as well as reducing the cooldown for the Critical Hit buff to 30 minutes, your mere presence provides a slight boost to nearby allies' effectiveness.

Well, that’s all lovely and all. But kind of prove my point, no? So, can I take it there actually is some sort of all-powerful Great Celestial Being bribing me into not thinking about what is going on in too much detail ?

Reputation with Lia Jorgensdottir increased from [Wary] to [Cautiously Warm]

Hey, say no more, blud. Mine’s not to reason why, eh?

The Elders were waiting for us inside their well-defended Keep. I still couldn’t help but notice there was no sign of a fanfare, pints of ale or nubile maidens eager to show their gratitude. The grey beards – and that was just the women - didn’t even bother with a "Well done" when we entered.

"A successful run," Kal offered when Lia studiously didn’t say anything, "but I am afraid to say we lost Ivor."

A goaty-looking Elder shook her head sadly. "Dungeon Delving is a heavy burden that always falls on the strongest. The Maker will welcome Ivor back to his embrace. Thank you sincerely for your service. All of you. Through your sterling efforts, you have cleansed a dungeon that had been corrupted by the Shadow. We will not forget this nor Ivor’s ultimate sacrifice." Her eyes flicked to me for a second. "I see we were wise to engage your services, Rogue. Your help with this matter was clearly invaluable."

"Yeah—uh, yeah. Although, to be fair, these other guys did most of the heavy lifting. I was glad I could help out a bit, but I’m sure Lia would have had it handled without me."

"Rogues, especially ones of your quality, are few and far between," another Elder chimed in, clearly ignoring my efforts to put credit where credit was due. "We hope we may be able to call on your assistance in the future?"

Sure. Great. Looking forward to more opportunities to get my arse handed to me. I gave a weak nod, hoping to end the conversation. But before I could slink off back to the shadows, another notification popped up.

Reputation Increase: +1000 with Eldhaven. Title ‘Rogue of Eldhaven’

The Elders of Eldhaven formally recognise you as a skilled Rogue. Allies of Eldhaven will view you with respect. Enemies will know to fear you. ‘Titled’ tasks are now available to you.

Fuckadoodledo. Just what I needed. For a Freeloader, I seem to be getting pretty good at getting a heavy weight of massive, unobtainable expectations laid on me. Also, being ‘titled’ didn’t seem like something that was going to make my life more chill. I’m not exactly allergic to the word ‘task’, but I’ve done my best to take the vaccine.

Kal gave a little whoop and clapped me on the back. "Hell of a job in there, James. Elders, you should have seen how he saved us from that fucking Minotaur!"

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I nodded along, pretending to enjoy the praise. Everyone in the room was looking at me like I’d actually done something heroic when, in reality, my role in that fight had been to run in panic and Wile. E. Coyote a giant bull into a wall. Sure, it was particularly focused panic and no little Luck, but I doubt I had an encore in me.

Lia’s eyebrow twitched during all the ‘all hail James’ that was going on, and I could feel her frustration building: she knew I wasn’t exactly what I was representing. Any minute now, she was going to call me out in front of everyone. I braced for impact, but – instead - she settled for just crossing her arms even tighter.

“Lia,” the Badger Elder said, saving us all from Kal talking through the death of the Minotaur again from a new, exciting angle, “as is customary, we will deduct Ivor’s blood price from your payment. Knowing the family, I cannot believe they will seek your prosecution, but you may wish to visit them in person to pay your respects. If the Rogue of Eldhaven was happy to accompany you, that would probably smooth over the waters even further.”

Prosecution? These people were fucking weird.

Lia gave a tight little nod. “I understand. May I ask if my share of the loot will still cover . . . “

“Jorgen’s debt? Unfortunately, not. However, in the circumstances, we have asked for there to be a pause in the . . . urgency of its collection. I dare say that if you can keep your father out of the Gambling House, you will have time to address the shortfall before . . . things escalate again.”

*

Later, as we sat in a pretty grimy tavern called The Unicorn’s Arse, Lia slipped into the seat opposite me, eyes scanning the room for potential eavesdroppers. However, by this stage of the evening, everyone else was too busy drinking to notice. I’d moved myself to this particular corner to try to escape the attentions of Elise, who was really, really insistent on becoming better acquainted. Nine times out of ten, I’d have obliged, but I kind of thought I wanted to shoot my shot for Lia, and it seemed like fucking her mate was likely to complicate that.

However, the expression on her face as she plonked down across the table was making me reconsider.

"You’re not what you seem," she said, voice pitched low.

The unexpected—and unwelcome—conversational opener nearly choked me on my drink. "Excuse me?"

She leaned in slightly, and I caught both a whiff of her scent (which was nice) and an eyeful down the front of her tunic (which was nicer). "I don’t know how you pulled it off in the dungeon, but you’re clearly no Rogue. You didn’t use a single Skill or Class Ability to take down that Minotaur. You were relying on Luck."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "Luck got the job done, didn’t it?"

Lia’s eyes didn’t leave mine. "You might have everyone else fooled, but I’ve actually seen Rogues in action. And they don’t stumble through fights the way you do, hoping for the best. You’re a fraud!"

Dammit. I really should have dropped more points in Charisma. “Maybe. Or maybe I just trust to Luck more than any other Rogue you’ve met? You know. Like a legend.”

"Luck is a fool’s currency," she said, but I sensed she was less certain in her condemnation than she’d been a moment ago. Then, her eyes hardened again. "I do not have much to thank my father for, but if he taught me anything, it is to never trust those who hazard everything on the toss of a coin. Ivor died!”

“Ah, so you do care? First time anyone’s given a damn, as far as I can tell. Oh, and if I’m to blame for it, of the two of us, which of us has been ordered to pay his relatives off? If there’s responsibility for his death going around, I’m not sure any of that lands at my door, Tank.” Fucking hell, what was wrong with me!

Lia blinked at my response, then stood and moved away. "Fuck you, ‘Rogue.’"

Reputation with Lia Jorgensdottir decreases from [Cautiously Warm] to [Actively Hostile]

Yeah. Can’t really complain there.

The evening wore on, and despite my best efforts to ensure everyone knew Lia was responsible for our party’s success, I couldn’t seem to avoid the growing reputation for heroism I had somehow cultivated. People stopped by to thank me, offer drinks, or worse, ask about my previous "exploits" as a Rogue. Each new round of congratulations piled on the pressure for me to have something new to say. So much so that I might have started to dip into the John Wick movies for a bit more backstory. It was like I was stuck in some awful game of Chinese Whispers, where my non-existent Roguishness was exaggerated more with every retelling.

Idle XP Gained: Endure Conversation – 15 XP

I’d dismissed that notification for the fifth time that night when Kal approached me, swaying, with another ale in hand. Fortunately, Elise had gone to bed – although I’m fairly sure she’d passed me her panties before she went. Either that or she thought, as a Rogue, I might need a new garrotte. "You ever think about taking on bigger dungeons, James? With your talent... you’d make a great team leader."

The ridiculousness of the comment meant I spat my mouthful of ale directly onto his shoes. "Nah, mate. I’m not a leader. Trust me.”

If Kal was bothered about his newly wet footwork, it didn’t show on his glazed expression. "Sure you are! By the Maker, with the way you handled that Minotaur, I’d follow you anywhere. I mean, Lia’s good and all, but it’s hard not to think that the apple probably doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

I frowned at that. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked

Kal shrugged - a movement that made him sway back and forth. "Nothing. Just saying that for all her bark, Lia’s still got... you know, her father’s shadow hanging over her. Bad Luck’s contagious, they say. I bet Ivor would agree. If he wasn’t, you know, dead.""

I glanced over at Lia: she was sitting across the room, drinking steadily.

"Maybe think about watching your mouth, Kal," I said, “the only reason any of us made it out of that Dungeon is because of Lia. A bit of gratitude would go a long way.” I had no idea what her father’s deal was, but I wasn’t about to sit there while Kal shat all over her name.

Kal’s brow creased up, clearly surprised by my reaction. "Whoa, hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just stating facts, James. Her old man’s a fucking carriagewreck and everyone knows it. That’s why she takes all these dangerous contracts. Gotta redeem the family name or some bullshit like that."

"Okay. Well, just because ‘everyone knows it’ doesn’t mean crap. You saw her in action. She’s badass. So, drop the ‘bad penny’ schtick, alright?"

"What? You got a thing for her or something? Well, good luck with that. Once upon a time, she was quite the good-time girl. But I don’t think anyone’s thawed those icy thighs for a season or two. You want Elise for that sort of thing."

For some reason, this became a hill for me to die on. Almost without thinking, I stood and shoved Kal’s shoulder hard enough to make him stumble backwards "I said, watch your fucking mouth, Kal!"

The tavern went silent. Even Lia turned around, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene I was causing. Kal stepped up to me, fists raised, but then his eyes suddenly widened in fear. What was that all about? The Archer’s forearms were wider than my waist. If one of us was getting his arse handed to him, it was absolutely going to me.

But not in Kal’s opinion, apparently. “Look, mate, I don’t want any trouble. I’m not looking to die today!" He shot a nervous glance at Lia, as if hoping for her to jump in and stop me from, I don’t know, ripping his spine out and spitting into the hole.

"Kal, the only thing lethal about me is the hangover I’m going to have tomorrow." I stepped forward towards him, then tripped over my own foot again, barely managing to stay upright. Kal flinched like I was about to sprout a dozen daggers and go full ninja on him.

"Shit!" Kal shouted, his face paling even further. He clenched his fists tighter, and I swear I saw his knuckles turn white. "I’m not going to wait for you to pull some Rogue trick. If you’re going to kill me, at least make it quick!"

Before I could even respond, Kal swung his fist with all his might. I saw it coming towards me in slow motion, but that didn’t help me avoid it. More Agility needed, dear heart. Even so, the big man’s eyes were squeezed shut, his face scrunched up in fear like he was expecting to get merked at any second. And then... WHAM. His punch connected against my jaw like the inevitability of death and taxes.

Passive Assistance Activated: Critical Hit Buff

I had just a moment to consider the crushing irony of my own Passive Assistance Ability giving him a Critical Hit before the room spun, stars exploded behind my eyes, and I felt my knees give out beneath me.

My last coherent thought before everything went black was, “This is such bullshit.”