Dinner was an awkward affair. They sat around a table in the tavern’s main room, and Gronthil had sealed the door again for safety. Orin had been pretending not to notice the tense glances the woman, whose name he learned was Darla, and Rus had been exchanging since they’d arrived. He assumed that whatever it was about had nothing to do with him.

Meanwhile, Rus shared their experiences since they parted ways. They had climbed the stairs for hours and found no end in sight. Eventually, he and Darla decided to turn around. Shield, meanwhile, was unwilling to turn back and decided to continue climbing. Almost as soon as they’d turned around, Darla and Rus had found themselves back in the tunnel. When they attempted to climb again to find Shield, he was nowhere to be found.

“Cursed to climb and endless stair for eternity,” Gronthil said and shuddered.

“It’s likely he will find himself back in the tunnel like we did as soon as he turns around,” Darla said. “But we couldn’t stay there and wait. We’d be trapped if any more of the dungeon’s creatures showed up.”

“Aye, it could not have been an easy decision, abandoning a friend who does not want to be saved,” Gronthil remarked. “A company of Black Dogs marched through two nights ago. No telling when they might be back, or if more will follow after them.”

“We’re trapped trapped,” Darla fumed. “The dungeon was so benign up until a week ago.”

“It’s almost like we were lured in,” Gronthil agreed.

“What do you mean?” Orin asked.

“For weeks, the dungeon’s monsters appeared to grow weaker, while its treasures grew more lucrative,” Darla explained.

“Naturally that attracted more delvers,” Gronthil added. “People were cautious at first, of course, but eventually, greed got the better of many, myself included, I am ashamed to admit.”

“Then the dungeon changed the rules,” Rus breathed. “This was all news to me. I just hunt this level.”

Darla then looked pointedly at Orin. “Knowing this, do you still plan to travel to the dungeon’s centre?”

The warrior nodded.

“What do you plan to do once you get there?” she pressed.

“This place’s master seems to know who I am,” Orin said. “I will have him explain what happened to me.”

“And if he told you that you were a dungeon lord and that he has a seat ready for you?” Darla asked.

Orin frowned thoughtfully, and Rus remarked. “That is a likely scenario from what we’ve heard.”

At length, Orin replied. “I can’t answer with certainty, but as I’ve said, I have a strong belief that I do not like the man I once was, and I know the relationship between myself, and the master of this place is no longer cordial.”

Darla nodded and took a deep breath. “What if I told you I know who you are?”

Orin’s eyebrows shot up. When the others stood and took a step back from the table, he realized that he had clenched his fist into a tight ball. Slowly, he forced himself to relax and levelled his gaze on the young woman. “Out with it, then.”

Cautiously, Darla took her seat again. “I believe you are Garthan of Aderan, a warrior from the north. You arrived in this dungeon in the company of Derlek Fontane over a month ago, with the task of subjugating it. I believe you succeeded, and that the current dungeon master is none other than your old friend, Derlek.”

Orin digested the information and was frustrated to find that it didn’t trigger any further memories. “This Derlek fellow, we’ve known each other for a long time?”

“That was my understanding,” Darla replied.

“Whenever I hear his voice or imagine his face, I feel nothing but anger,” Orin pointed out.

The woman shrugged. “Perhaps you were betrayed like the rest of us were.”

Orin frowned, and she elaborated. “I am Princes Darla of Gurthan, the last of my line. My father, the king, charged Derlek, a well regarded mage, with the subjugation of this place so that we might look into its powers and claim them for the good of our kingdom. Weeks ago, when reports of this place growing more benign came out, we received a missive claiming he was successful. After monitoring the situation, I was sent, and mere days after my arrival, the dungeon changed, my retinue was slaughtered and now I am trapped here.”

Gronthil nodded thoughtfully before rapping the table with his knuckles. “You know, I’ve been coming to this dungeon for years. It never was a particularly challenging one. More of a place for delvers to hone their skills before trying their hand at more difficult ones like the one in Charney…”

“What is your point, Master Dwarf?” Rus enquired.

Gronthil gave Darla a pointed look before asking. “Why order this place subjugated?”

A sardonic smile crept across the woman’s face, and her shoulder’s slumped. “It is as you say, the dungeons in places like Charney, Nida’s Hollow, Thornbury, they are all more challenging with commensurate rewards.”

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Rus snorted derisively. “Your father watched those cities grow fat off the spoils of the dungeon and tried to get this dungeon to do the same.”

“The frustrating thing is after everyone warned him, he went through with it anyway, and it worked!” Darla exclaimed. “At least for a little while.”

“Hold on, Princess,” Gronthil said, holding up a meaty hand. “Do you mean to tell me that you came here in an attempt to prove your father wrong?”

“All my life I’d been taught by magisters he had appointed to be suspicious when something was too good to be true,” Darla retorted bitterly. “And they were proven correct. My father’s ambition and greed have come at the cost of countless lives.”

“That doesn’t answer the question of why Derlek betrayed everyone,” Rus pointed out.

“It does not,” Darla admitted and levelled her gaze back on Orin. “But it seems we have both been betrayed by the same person and seek answers. Will you help me find them?”

“I seek only answers for myself,” Orin snapped. “And I have no interest in looking after anyone else’s welfare.”

“I can pull my weight,” Darla pointed out. “Those wounds you received from the Gatekeeper would have taken weeks to heal on their own.”

Orin scowled but after a moment’s thought conceded the point. “I suppose you aren’t wrong. But if you knew who I was, why not reveal it to me in the tunnel?”

“I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t turn on us once we told you,” she pointed out. “You and the dungeon master were fast friends after all when last I saw you.”

Orin made a face. “Why follow me into the tunnel in the first place?”

“I’d only ever seen you from a distance, and you were wearing a grotesque helmet at the time,” she replied. “I could only be sure of who you were when I heard your name and saw you wield your sword.”

He then looked at the other two. “And what about the two of you, what will you do?”

Rus was the first to reply. “I’ll come along. The princess has promised me a handsome reward in exchange for my assistance. Besides, it’s not like I can get out now. Not my own, anyway.”

“I will go as well,” Gronthil declared. “If the way out is sealed, then I’d rather be proactive than huddling away in here waiting for a slow death.”

Orin grunted. “The lot of you better not slow me down.”

“He talks big now,” Rus grinned before nudging the dwarf in the side. “But without the two of us, he’d probably starve.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Gronthil laughed and turned to Darla. “We had planned on setting out at first light, but would you like to wait a little longer for your friend?”

The woman blinked and thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t know if we can afford to. I will leave a note behind and if Yeldon finds his way here, he will know where we are headed.”

Orin nodded and got to his feet. “Write your note. I wish to depart at once.”

“What is the rush?” Gronthil asked. “As I’ve said, I think we could all benefit from a good night’s sleep before challenging the deeper levels. I came from down there and I can tell you, the creatures we encountered would curdle your blood.”

“All the same, gather your things and meet me outside,” Orin said. “I will only wait ten minutes.”

The others were outside in five, and Orin led the way towards the stairs without saying a word. They climbed in silence. The stairs were broad and worn from the numerous boots that had used them over the years. A sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach as he rounded a corner where the stairs doubled back on themselves. His pace quickened as he climbed that flight and then the next.

“This is strange,” Gronthil said at last, confirming the warrior’s fears. “We should have reached the Swamp by now.”

“It’s like when we tried to leave,” Rus breathed.

Without consulting the others, Orin turned around and began to descend. When he rounded the first corner, he saw the tavern at the top of the stairs and cursed.

“We should stay close together when using these stairs,” Gronthil warned as he appeared next to the warrior.

“We’re trapped,” Darla gasped, ashen faced, after they had gathered at the tavern door.

Orin looked around peevishly and had a flash of inspiration when his gaze happened to fall upon one of the greenskins he’d killed. “They seemed to have no problems travelling between the levels.”

He looked over to Rus. “Remember those lights we saw on the first day we met?”

The hunter nodded. “It might have been a temporary path, but it’s worth investigating.”

“I don’t suppose I could avail upon you to spend the night here before setting out?” Gronthil offered feebly.

“You may if you wish,” Orin said brusquely. “But I am leaving at once.”

The warrior stalked into the trees and Rus cleared his throat loudly. Orin turned around and glared at the man, who pointed in a different direction. “They came down over there.”

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to admit that we need one another,” Rus called out when the warrior changed direction abruptly.

It was still night when the party arrived at the path’s terminus on their level. They approached from the trees and the sight that greeted them gave even Orin pause. An army had been built at the base of a cliff. It was surrounded by a wood stockade that was patrolled by greenskins together with tame wolves that they led around on chains. A pair of watchtowers flanked the camp's open gates under which wagons pulled by basilisks passed intermittently in either direction.

“I don’t remember this being here,” Gronthil breathed as he took the encampment in.

“I’ve been coming to this level for years and this is the first time I’ve seen it,” Rus added.

Rus’ eyes widened in alarm when Orin drew his sword and began to walk towards the encampment. Together with Gronthil, he managed to haul the warrior back.

“Is your first instinct to go in sword swinging?” the hunter hissed.

“It’s worked so far,” Orin pointed out.

“I believe we can come up with a more intelligent way to get up that path,” Rus said.

“Tell me, princess, was he always like this?” Gronthil groaned.

Darla shrugged. “I didn’t actually speak to him. He had a reputation, you see... he was better known as the Raging Demon.”

“I can see why,” Rus remarked.

“I’m still waiting for this intelligent alternative to get us up the path of yours,” Orin said hotly.

“Look at those wagons,” Darla said, pointing at one that lumbered through the gates on its way uphill. “They don’t appear to have anyone on them, no driver or guard.”

“I don’t suppose they need a driver if the creature pulling it is obeying the will of the Dungeon Master,” Gronthil remarked.

“Perhaps we could get on one as it passes through the forest,” Rus offered.

“What’s stopping us from riding one in the opposite direction?” Gronthil asked. “Perhaps we could ride one of those things all the way out of the dungeon.”

“We don’t know if they go that far,” Darla pointed out. “In fact, we don’t know where the ones heading in that direction are going at all.”

“You could say the same thing about those going uphill,” Gronthil remarked.

“Those are going deeper into the dungeon,” Orin said. “That is all that matters.”

“And if it’s dicey on the other side, we can fall back on our Raging Demon’s original plan,” Rus added.

“Call me that again, and I will wring your neck,” Orin warned sharply.