“You really don’t have to follow me. I could just meet you at the east gate when I’m ready.”

Emrys trailed after Zereh. She cleared a path through the crowded street through sheer force of will, and he had to stay close enough to follow in her wake.

“I don’t mind. We should hurry, don’t you think? How many stops do you need to make?” When they left the training hall he expected they would go to Sonora immediately, but the warrior had instead led him back to Market Street.

Zereh ignored his question. “Here we are. Glenn!”

They stopped in front of an alchemist’s stall. Small vials lay in rows across the table, organized by color. The alchemist himself was a tall spindly man in a pinstriped suit. His shoulder length hair was dyed a deep purple with pink and blue highlights. When he saw Zereh, he beamed.

“The warrior returns! My dear, don’t tell me you need to replenish your stock already?” He made a show of looking her over for injuries.

Zereh grimaced. “That last dungeon hit a little harder than I expected. I need a few more poison neutralizers, five health potions, and holy water if you have it. Don’t worry, it’s not all for me.” She jutted a thumb at Emrys standing impatiently behind her. “I’m taking care of this one for a while.”

Glenn touched the side of his nose. “Say no more, I’ve got just the thing.” From under the table he pulled a cherry wood box of potions. Inside were five health potions, five mana potions, five general antidotes, and two bottles of holy water.

“It’s a little more than what you’re asking for, but your ward looks to be a magic user. It’s twenty-five gold for the set, and ten gold for the holy water.”

“Make it thirty total and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Glenn put a hand to his heart, looking pained. “For you, I can do that. Don’t tell anyone though.”

Zereh paid and slid the potion crate into her bag. “Thanks Glenn, it’s always good to see you. I’d stay and chat but someone is in a hurry.” Emrys was tugging at her sleeve.

“That was rude,” she said once they were far enough away to not be overheard.

“What’s rude is how badly he was overcharging you,” Emrys hissed. “Thirty gold? Those potions should have been no more than twenty, even with the holy water.”

Zereh’s expression hardened. “I buy from Glenn because I like him and because he looks out for me. I wouldn’t have had any antidotes in that last dungeon if not for him, nor would I have thought to purchase any mana potions today. Glenn may overcharge for his potions, but he more than makes up for it with shrewd advice.”

“Ah.” Emrys grimaced. “I apologize. I should have expected you’d know what you were doing. I only thought, most imm- adventurers don’t realize that Market Street prices are inflated for those just passing through. I didn’t want you to be taken advantage of.”

The warrior considered him for a long moment. “Our next stop is the blacksmith, to repair and upgrade my armor. Why don’t you lead me to your recommendation?”

The mage’s eyes widened. “My…Yes, of course! This way.” Back when he stood guard duty with Sven, they were required to wear basic armor. Cecile was the local blacksmith and while she worked predominantly on basic plate armor, she had trained under the best blacksmiths in the kingdom before settling down in Westover, and when she put her mind to it she was capable of truly magnificent work.

Emrys led Zereh out of Market Street and deeper into the town. There wasn’t a mortal equivalent to the long line of shops. Rather, the local shops were scattered throughout the town, usually in a building that neighbored the artisan’s home.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at Cecile’s smithy. She was already hard at work, hammering the dents out of a breastplate. The blacksmith was a short, heavy set woman with cropped black hair. He was pretty certain that the only people with larger muscles than her were immortals.

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The rhythmic hammering stopped and Cecile looked up at the new arrivals.

“Cecile, it’s good to see you again. I’d like to introduce you to–”

“Zereh!” The squat woman threw down her hammer and ran to greet the warrior. She engulfed Zereh in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning in a circle before releasing her. “What have you done, what are you wearing? I know I gave you something better than that last time you were here.”

“It was a dungeon full of mud,” Zereh pouted.

Emrys stared. He was finally seeing an emotion from Zereh that wasn’t anger or irritation, and she was pouting. She had leaned down far enough to lay her head on Cecile’s shoulder, and the blacksmith was patting her consolingly.

Emrys cleared his throat. “We are in a bit of a hurry,” he reminded her.

If looks could kill, Zereh would have skewered him on the spot.

“Oh! Emrys, how are you? Goodness, I haven’t seen you since… Well, since before Elder Winter took you under his wing.” She squinted at him and slapped his shoulder. “I guess you magic types still don’t care for armor much, huh?”

Emrys rubbed his arm. “That might be worth revisiting,” he muttered. “How do you two know each other?”

Zereh smirked. “I do my research. Cecile is the best in the business.” The two women shared a smile. Zereh unloaded a set of armor from her bag of holding, and even Emrys could tell it was badly damaged.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you take care of this right away? Mr. Impatient here has been hounding me to get moving on our party quest.”

“Why don’t you just wait at the East gate until she’s ready?” asked Cecile.

“That’s what I said!” Zereh exclaimed.

The two women shared a look, and Emrys began to wonder if he was the crazy one.

“We think Sven’s been taken by the necromancer.”

The blacksmith gasped. “I’m sorry to hear that. Give me a moment, I’ll make it a rush job.”

Cecile disappeared back into the smithy with the armor. Seconds later they could hear the rhythmic clanking of a hammer on metal.

Zereh gave Emrys a look. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a buzzkill?”

“Has anyone ever told you to get your priorities straight?” he snapped.

She looked amused at his outburst. “Frequently. But can you at least admit I know my way around town?” She gestured at the smithy.

Emrys gave her a reluctant nod. “You certainly do.”

“So. Given that I’m a stronger adventurer than you, I’ve saved your life, and I seem to know what I’m doing after all, do you think maybe there’s a reason I’m doing all this prep work instead of running off half-cocked?”

Emrys hung his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been disrespectful, and you don’t deserve that. Least of all from me. I’m just worried. Sven has always been there for me, and if he’s in trouble it’s because I went into that dungeon and left him behind.”

Zereh’s eyes softened. “Does he normally go with you?”

“No… But if I’d stayed back, I could have protected him. He only ever learned life magic. I always told him that with his guard experience he would make a great healer in a dungeon, but he never would. Said dungeons gave him the creeps.” The arcanist ran a hand through his hair. “I think he just saw too many people who didn’t make it back, or who came back injured. You watch them when you’re on the tower, you know? You think about who went out, and who came back.”

“And what about you?” Zereh asked. Her eyes were thoughtful and compassionate. “You were on the same tower, so why do you go into dungeons?”

A small fireball came to life in Emrys’s palm, flickering on and off. He didn’t even realize he was doing it. “Have you ever talked to a dungeon?”

Zereh shook her head. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“It is if you can find the dungeon core. They’re always hidden in the boss room of the final floor. The only thing a dungeon wants is to get bigger, and the only way to do that is to kill. That’s why they make their entrances so enticing and give rewards like breadcrumbs as you make your way through. The more people try, the more will fail, and the dungeon can feed on their mana.” The fireball flashed white. “The only way to stop a dungeon from killing anyone else is to destroy it. Find the dungeon core and rip out its roots.”

He looked back at Zereh, and she flinched at the intensity of his gaze. “I do dungeons for the same reason that Sven won’t. I’ve seen too many people lured in by the thought of riches, only never to return.”

Zereh’s eyes widened. “You’re the reason the dungeons are disappearing.”

“Yes. And I’ll keep doing it until I’ve cleared the entire ravine. It’ll take most of my life, if not all of it.” He shook his head and let the fireball wink out. “I wouldn’t leave it for anything, except Sven. He’s like a brother to me. Aside from my mom, he’s the only family I ever had.”

Zereh forced a smile. “I’ve never felt that passionate about anything in my entire life.”

Emrys raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that for a second, not after seeing you in the training hall.”

Before Zereh could think of a response to that, they were interrupted by a loud clattering that could only be several pieces of armor crashing to the ground, closely followed by a string of creative expletives. Cecile came hopping out of the smithy, shaking a helmet off her foot. Her arms were full of Zereh’s armor, which she dumped unceremoniously on a workbench.

“All done!” she said. “Armor is repaired, gems are cleaned and recharged. Keep in mind you still have five open gem sockets, so let me know when you’re ready to fill those.”