As we file inside Lord Cathal’s office, I peer down the corridor one last time. We’re safe, for now. But soon, the morning light will come, and the lord doesn’t strike me as a late sleeper.

I shut the door behind us and wedge his desk chair beneath the door handle. While I doubt it will help, it feels more secure anyhow. I hand the keyring to Elias who drops it into one of his ginormous pockets. Poor guy. I keep catching him eyebrow-pouting at his new medieval slacks. He’s probably never worn baggy pants in his entire life.

When he glances up at me, there’s a flicker of a sheepish frown before he quickly tailors his expression to his full stoic Elias-ness. “The security here is surprisingly lax,” he says quietly.

I shrug. “Arrogance of his station, probably. Who would dare break into the hall of a lord?”

“Yeah, especially when everyone seems, like, weirdly ga-ga over him,” Luci adds.

“Despite that, mind what you touch,” replies Elias. “Even if his office appears unguarded, there might still be alarms or traps.”

His niece rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

Elias jostles the chair a tad, ensuring it’s tight against the door. Then he picks up a sliver of flint and iron from the desk, getting to work on the candle, as Luci and I begin to poke around in the darkness.

I didn’t really grasp the scope of the place earlier - you know, given that I thought we might end up pitted against some Level 25 lord and his trusty guards. It’s remarkably sparse for how large it is. Just musty and dark and almost entirely bereft of life. If I hadn’t seen the lord in here myself, I would have thought it unused. The surfaces are dusty and unmarred. There’s no cloak draped over the chair, no drops of ink gracing the desk. There’s no decor, save for the strange sculpture on his desk: that leprechaun with an eye for a face.

On the left side of the room, a single waist-high bookshelf sits nearly empty, taken up more by ledgers than by actual books. The ledgers have lots of names and numbers and dates, so I guess they seem legitimate. But there are only two books, both of which seem entirely unburdened of use. The spines protest as they open. One is some kind of farmer’s almanac. The other is a history book of Ireland.

Once Elias brings the candle to life, I hold the pages toward the flickering light, thinking maybe I’ll find something about Lord Cathal, the isle’s dungeons, faeries, etc. But from what I can tell, it’s mostly just long lists of dates and who’s the son of who. The rest is in completely indecipherable Gaelic, and I can’t find a system setting that’ll change that. The scrolls and parchments on his desk are similarly unhelpful. At least for reading.

“Yo, stay still,” I tell Elias. I tug open the belt of the leather bag slung over his shoulder and dump in a few scrolls, a secured jar of ink, and a fountain pen. The utilities necessary for writing seem precious here, so might as well steal ‘em, just in case.

Luci crouches and begins to lift the edges of a woven rush mat when Elias jolts.

“Careful.”

She laughs just a little too loud. “Are you serious? It’s a rug.”

“There could be traps.”

“In the rug?” Her mouth agape, she gives me a pointed look and then throws her glare at Elias in the most teenage way possible before looking back at me. The directions are clear: mommy and daddy need to talk.

“Later,” I mouth.

“No, I’m not doing this anymore,” she scoffs.

Her uncle stiffens. “Keep your voice down.”

“Or what, we might have to fight? I can fight. I can fight just fine.”

“Chispita-”

“Tío-”

“Luci,” I snap. “Just… keep looking.”

“Helen-” interrupts Elias.

“And we are going over here,” I say, tugging him toward the bookcase. I hook my fingers under the top. “Here. Help me lift this.”

Shuffling to the side, I make room for Elias to join me. Instead, he wraps his arms around it and lifts the whole damn thing.

“Alright then,” I say. Show-off. “Help me look behind it?”

“It’s three feet tall,” he remarks.

“Just humor me.”

With a huff, Elias kneels beside me and brushes his fingers over the stone wall. Meanwhile, Luci paces toward the other side of the room, idly toeing the floor tiles.

I don’t want to have some adult conversation on parental guidance. And furthermore, this isn’t the time or place to even have a conversation. But clearly, that’s not up to me. However, it is up to me to solve it, for some ungodly reason. Seriously, how I got here, I’ll never know.

“So, um. Elias,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I think we maybe need to take a breather on the whole Luci thing.”

“Hmm,” he mutters, distracted.

“As in, she’s thirteen. And I don’t know if you remember what that was like or if you were just born this way, but she needs to have a bit of control over her own life here. Or she is going to rebel. Hard.”

He turns to me, his brow furrowed. “You promised to protect her.”

“I am. But I think we have different ideas of what that means.”

“We don’t allow her to get killed.”

“No… We give her the guidance she needs for her to allow herself not to get killed.”

“She’s thirteen. She’s a child.”

“History is full of badass children.”

His jaw tightens. “History is more full of dead children.”

Well, shit. I close my eyes, thinking. “Elias. People last a month in this game. If we want her to get to whatever end they’ve got planned, she needs to level up. And they made it so she has to fight in order for her to get her share.”

“She’ll get hurt.”

“She’ll survive. And you. You have to survive too. She’s lost enough people already. Stop sacrificing yourself. And try living a little too, you know? Lighten up. Tell a joke. Let her joke and swear now and then too. And maybe, while you’re at it, stop killing fishermen and pushing her crushes into rivers.”

“I’m making the decisions that need to be made.”

“Yeah, I am too.”

“Really.”

“I know where to draw the line, Elias. I’m doing what I can. I’m just maybe a little more discreet about it.”

“And how is that?”

“Well…” I furtively glance at Luci. She’s as far away as she can, pretending to take great interest in the wall.

When neither of us speak for a moment, she looks our way. “You guys can keep talking. I’m not listening.” To emphasize, she places her hands over her ears and sings ‘la la la la’ - somehow sarcastically.

I inch closer to Elias, my voice low. “Alright. Don’t freak out. But you know that other party that drunk guy mentioned? I met them. Here, in the dungeon. And they have the visa quest too.”

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“What? You didn’t-”

“They’re still there,” I interrupt. “In a cell. Some kind of magic lock.”

“They can’t get out?”

“No. Not unless the magic spontaneously fails.”

“We can’t tell Luci.”

“That’s what I’m saying. She needs to learn to fight. And she needs freedom to feel like she’s part of this team. But-”

“She can’t fight other people,” he finishes. “She’s too young.”

“And she can’t know….” I glance at Luci again. “She can’t know we left them there. Death isn’t all she needs protection from.”

He breathes deeply. “She shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know.”

“Thank you for telling me. That was… that was the right decision.”

I clear my throat. “Come on. We should keep looking.”

Elias stands, surveying the room. “Hmm. There’s something wrong about this office. It’s too small.”

“Really?” I say. “What was your office like?”

“No. The room’s measurements. They don’t equal the length of the corridor.” He rubs his chin as he mentally calculates the area once more. “It’s too small.”

“Well, maybe there’s a door to another half somewhere,” I reply. “Luci, how’s the wall looking?”

“Stoney,” she answers. “I’m gonna keep poking though. Maybe there’s, like, one brick that goes in and a hidden wall opens and there’s another room and Afric’s hiding in there, and then we win!”

“Um, yeah, could be. Elias, help me move the desk? Still might be a trapdoor somewhere.”

Moving to the center of the room, I transfer the contents of the desktop - the candle, a handkerchief, a silver tray, and another jar of ink - to the bookcase. I hesitate to grab the weird sculpture though. I know the eye isn’t moving; I’ve stared at it long enough to make sure of it. But it gives me the creeps. Finally, I drape the handkerchief over it and, careful not to touch any other part of it, I move the curio to the shelf.

“Whoa!” Luci yelps, yanking her hand from the wall. “What’d you do?”

I glance warily at the covered eye. “Why, what happened?”

“Well….” She grins. “Remember how everyone is all talking about illusions and stuff? Check this out!” And she sticks her hand through the stone bricks. “I swear it was just a wall like three seconds ago. But now there’s nothing here! See?”

“Hmm.” Elias scratches his neck. “Perhaps we should-”

“Bye!” Luci interrupts. With a quick wave, she performs a graceful ballet leap straight through the wall.

“Luci!” gasps Elias. He bursts past me, vanishing through the stone.

Welp. I can see our conversation went well.

Sauntering toward the wall, I place exactly one finger against the rough stone. The bricks waver as my finger disappears.

Warning! Detected: Lesser False Wall

How did I not notice this before? I have the detection skill. Maybe it’s a stronger spell? Or did its power start to wane when I covered that sculpture… Strange. Maybe it’s like that creepy leprechaun has some magical bluetooth. Pretty weak if a handkerchief can block it though.

And so, I too vanish through the wall that isn’t there. As I pass through the illusion, the stone flickers, then blinks into nothing, the magic gone.

I’m now standing in two identical offices: identical in that they’re exactly the same size with exactly the same desk and exactly the same chair. That is where the similarities stop.

On the desk, a blue-flamed candle lights the room in a muted glow. It doesn’t flicker, nor melt the wax. It just hovers off the wick in perfect stasis.

Aside from the room’s entrance, the entire perimeter of the office is covered in wooden cupboards, shelves, and bookcases, each fully stuffed and terrifyingly organized. The bookcases hold dozens of leather bound tomes, lined in alphabetical order and tetris’d so meticulously that not a single centimeter of space remains.

Dusted jars and bottles fill up another set of shelves, each containing various liquids and powders, all hand-labeled in perfect calligraphy. There’s also a shelf specifically tailored for scrolls and several rows of string from which dangle dried herbs and roots.

In the corner, there leans a gnarled staff. I examine it, then tentatively pick it up.

Weapon Acquired!

Common Staff

A two-handed magical weapon with no elemental properties.

Wits Requirement: 15

Level 1 Ability(s):

Magic Blast: Fires a single magic projectile that ignores physical armor. Range: 3m + .5m per level, 15m max.

Level 10 Ability(s):

Magic Wave: Fires a short-range conal magic attack that ignores physical armor. Range: 1.5m.

None of us have the wits, so into my inventory it goes.

“Okay, so, this is totally a room for wizards, right?” says Luci. “Like Lord Cathal’s a wizard?”

“He’s definitely into magic, that’s for sure,” I answer. “Alchemy maybe? And sorcery? If that was his staff though, he’s pretty shit.”

“So he’s not the guy we’re looking for? Laserian?”

“Maybe? If he was into necromancy, I’d expect more dead stuff. Plus our quest hasn’t updated. But that could be nothing.”

Elias surveys the bottles, placing the tip of his thumb between each vessel. I think he’s measuring how evenly-spaced they are? I’d dare say he seems jealous.

“These are draughts,” he says. “Two of Lesser Stamina, two of Lesser Health, one titled ‘Poison Cloud’ and several of a draught called ‘Lesser Wits’ which appears to increase the wits attribute by 5 points for ten minutes.”

“Ooo, guess Lord Cathal can’t get it up without a potion,” Luci teases.

“Luci! You-” Elias cuts himself off, his lips tight as he breathes deeply. I swear I can see the steam coming out of his ears.

“Take ‘em. Take all of them,” I say. “We can divvy them out later.”

“Oh, I want the poison one!” exclaims Luci. Her uncle gives her a look but, again, holds his tongue. “What? I’m immune to poison. At least I won’t hit myself.”

Once the potions disappear into our respective inventories, Elias picks up a pair of black shin-high boots. “These may work for you, Helen. They suit your class.”

Aw, look at him, all knowing about classes. He drops the boots into my hands. They’re hefty. At least a size 11. In men’s. “I’m sorry, how big do you think my feet are?”

“They should form to your size,” he explains. “Just as these pants did.”

“Alright…”

Armor Acquired!

Uncommon Traveler’s Boots

Lightweight shoes with a bonus component.

Fortitude Requirement: 5

Provides:

- Mild insulation

- Minor boost to speed

Huh. Without an agility attribute, I didn’t think we could enhance that stat unnaturally. Nice. Throwing my rank river-water gym shoes into a corner, I lace up the boots. Just like Elias suggested, they meld to my feet like they were made for me. And the treated black leather goes so great with my yoga pants.

“Thanks. These are great. Can you look at the scrolls next?” I ask. “Just want to know if any are magic that we can actually use.”

With a nod, he heads over to the scrolls. Again, I open his shoulderbag and cram a load of herbs, roots, and powders in there until the leather bulges, nearly bursting at the seams. I also stuff a couple vials of high-concentration alcohol in there since, if it spills for some reason, it’s the only solvent I’m pretty sure won’t eat through his skin.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you know what to do with these?”

“Nope. But if I mix ‘em enough, I might.” Pulling tight, I manage to buckle the bag shut. I give it a little pat. “Don’t run into anything or you might explode.”

With a low-effort huff, he returns to reviewing the scrolls. Suddenly, he hisses through his teeth. “Don’t touch anything.” He takes a step back. “I mean it. There’s a trap here.”

“Where?”

“There,” he says, pointing to the bottom row of scrolls. “It says ‘Fire Trap.’”

Crouching, I get as close as I dare, but I still don’t see anything. “What’s your detection at?”

“Six,” he answers.

I stare at him. “Wh… I’m sorry, does accounting have a lot of traps?”

“I didn’t see any other useable items here,” he replies. Shuffling around me, he goes to examine another shelf.

Something thuds in the hallway. There’s a clatter of metal. The rapid stomping of feet, a barrage of boots on stone. A man shouts. Another shouts back.

We stop, our attention focused on the decoy office as we listen for the creak of an oak door. Are they coming? Do they know we’re here?

We can fight if we need to. We can take out the guards: two guards easily, three, maybe four at best. Not Lord Cathal himself, unless he needs that wits potions on hand to actually wield magic. There’s no exit - the window is no more than a slit - though it’s possible Elias can just kinda charge through the stone. Luci may have difficulty in close quarters. Should I give her a dagger? I should give her a dagger.

A second passes. Then another. There’s more clashing, more thumping. Then a second heavy thud. A door slamming maybe?

Finally, the noise dissipates.

“We’re not being quiet enough,” says Elias.

“Yeah, well, were we ever?”

“Got it!” Luci exclaims, followed by a short, quiet song of: “I got it, I got it.”

She’s dancing in front of a bookshelf, a pile of books now at her feet. I’m no collector, but damn, if those books don’t make me drool just a little. They’ve got gilded spines, embossed covers, silver engravings. They’re gorgeous.

“Yeah, what is it?” I ask.

“See this one here?” she says, pointing to a reddish text on the top shelf.

Warning! Detected: Door Lever

“Nice find.”

Luci grins. “Can I do it? Can I do it?”

Outside, there’s a crash. The fall of feet beat all around us. They’re in the mudroom. No, in the corridor. They thunder toward us until they’re just on the other side of the wall.

“Better be quick,” I say.

Beside me, Elias’ neck muscles look like they’re about to pop. But the guy nods.

Stretching up on her tip-toes and delicately resting two fingers on the top of the spine, Luci angles the book ever so slightly. A loud clunk thumps behind the shelf. She steps back, her head tilted, as she watches her victory in satisfaction.

Clanking and creaking, the bookcase parts from the stone wall, revealing a torchlit alcove and a staircase that descends so far down that the flames along the wall turn from blazing fires, to writhing glows, to specks, to nothing at all.

It’s the longest staircase I’ve ever seen, and I have no idea where it ends.

Luci’s smile glimmers in the light. “Coooooool,” she says, her voice echoing into the abyss.