"This must be your fault," Fritz proclaimed, motioning to the sticky webs covering the way forward. "Who brings up spiders in a Spire."

"Don't blame, Cal," Rosie said, puffing out her chest. "These webs must have been here far before we got here. And it's not like the Spires listen to us."

"The first is a fair point, the second is not," Fritz said. "Spires absolutely listen to us, and have sick senses of humour. Be wary of what you say within their walls."

"That's a terribly common superstition," Lauren said. "I'm surprised you hold to it."

"I am a man of surprises," Fritz replied easily.

"Are there any spiders or is it just webs?" Bert asked squeezing to the front of the team.

Fritz took a closer look, leveraging his far higher Perception letting his eyes glide over the sticky threads.

"I can't see any spiders," Fritz said. "And there's only one way to check."

He pulled free Mortal Edge and slid its bone blade over the webs. The cut parted them like a set of thin, grey curtains, the sides sagged, falling to the floor with a soft thud, weighed down as they were by so much dust.

The room beyond was completely covered in cobwebs, the bookcases and small displays looked as if they were layered in pale, gossamer sheets. Nothing stirred within, not even a light breeze rippled the grey blanket. Try as he might and straining his sight, Fritz saw nothing creeping or crawling over the countless threads.

He passed the lantern to Bert and took a tentative, quiet step forward. His footstep was near silent and further muffled by the coating of thick dust. When there was no response from Trap Sense or Danger Sense, he moved into the room proper. There, after he'd made it about thirty feet in, something crunched under his foot. He stopped in his tracks and stood as still as stone, listening.

Again nothing moved.

He checked the underside of his boot and looked for what he had crushed. Unfortunately, he had reduced whatever it was to powder, only one shade paler than the dust. He continued forward, searching the bookcases and webs. Within he saw the small grey spiders. They were still, dead, their translucent, desiccated bodies the size of a fingernail. Fritz breathed out a sigh of relief and returned to his team.

"Nothing alive, lots of dead, empty spider skins," he told them.

"They might be undead," Cal said.

The whole team scowled at him.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Honestly, my Senses are telling me that this room is mostly harmless," Fritz espoused, sheathing his dagger and drawing Quicksilver. He tested its black, jagged edges against the webs, finding that it cut through them with as much ease as Mortal Edge. "Though I'm not keen to search this room top to bottom, we should have better luck finding treasure on the next floor."

The team were in agreement and they began to trek through the webbed maze, led by Fritz and George who sliced through the dusty sheets between the bookcases. All the books and scrolls were ancient, too frail to touch without destroying them. When they took the time to check a particularly sturdy tome, they found that as soon as it was opened the paper disintegrated and the pages poured out from it like sand.

When they finally left the room, they carried out only frustration, annoyance and stuffy noses.

"Hope the next room is better, it'll be the fifth right?" Bert croaked.

"I don't know, maybe," Fritz said. "Might even be the last one."

It was only when Fritz climbed to the very top of the stairs and pulsed his Door Sense that he got a faint response. Both from the double doors ahead of him and the Stairway beyond. Fritz wanted to sigh in relief, now that he could feel the vague impression that the Stairway to the next Well was nearby. But was distracted by what he felt from the new set of doors in front of him. They were locked and made of metal.

Fritz strode up to the imposing slabs of steel blocking their path forward. They were similar in style in not in substance to the previous doors save that they had another peculiarity. A key hole large enough he could put his finger in. And, of course, the door's were locked.

"And here I was wondering why the loot was so unusually good, what with all the Techniques," Fritz said, then sighed in disappointment. "Now we know."

"And what do we know?" George asked.

"This Floor has both a time limit and a locked door," Fritz said. "Incredibly dangerous."

"And therefore more reward," Lauren finished for him, taking off her siren silk mouth cover and shaking the dust off it. The team followed suit.

"A locked door, so we're looking for a key?" Cal asked.

"Yes," Fritz said, trying to hide his annoyance at this setback.

"Unless we can just break through," George said.

"Be my guest, but both the lock and the door are some kind of steel," Fritz observed.

"Out of the way then," George said, shooing the team from the doors.

They parted, then gathered behind him.

George's copperchange sword lit up with a translucent white gleam around its edges. Sever screamed. He slashed, and sparks spewed with a terrible screech like nails on a chalkboard, except three times as loud.

Fritz peered from behind the man's armoured back and saw only the faintest line scratched upon the immovable doors.

"No good, too tough," George said, then shrugged, "Worth a try though."

"Chisel next!" Bert cried. Though his efforts also produced little effect, even when the tool was enhanced with Sharpen Blade. Which had been a small surprise to George as he didn't consider the Ability's use for tools other than weapons.

"Acid next," Bert said, undeterred and still eager. He let loose, hosing the door down with a spray of misting liquid. It bubbled and hissed where it touched the steel, leaving behind tiny pinprick craters and a thin coat of rust. Nowhere near enough to get through the thick metal in any decent amount of time.

"Well, it looks like we're going to have to search for the key," Fritz said.

"Do we know what it'll look like?" Lauren asked.

"Likely blocky and made of steel, like the lock itself," Fritz theorised.

"Where there's a steel lock there must be a steel key," Bert said sagely.

"I don't think that's entirely true," George hedged.

"It's generally true," Bert argued, then turned to Fritz. "Have you tried picking it yet?"

"An interesting proposition, and one that slipped my mind, why didn't I think of that immediately," Fritz said, pulling out his fishbone picks and kneeling before the lock.

"You're forgetting the gutters already," Bert chided mockingly, shaking his head. "All this pretending you're better than a sneak thief has gone to your head."

"He is better than a sneak thief," Lauren professed. "He's nobility."

"She's right," Fritz said over his shoulder. "It's Sir sneak thief to you commoners, have some respect!"

Bert chuckled and Lauren smiled with only a little strain.

The picks went in smoothly, but he found that their rigid tips were pushed away from any tumblers or mechanism by a strange force that felt like the push of a lodestone. Soft at first, then unyielding.

"It's no good, some kind of magic is in the way," Fritz said while quickly devising a new plan.

"Right, we're going to have to form teams to cover the most ground. Bert and I can see in the dark, we'll split up for solo searching so that leaves you lot with the lantern," Fritz said outlining his search plan. "We're also looking for maps of the floor itself, which might provide the key's location. Call out if you find it or are in danger, we'll all run to where the noise is."

"What if the other team have already found it?" Lauren asked.

"Return to the locked door, then call out and we'll come running," Fritz said.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"I don't like it, spreads us too thin," Bert said. "And all the yelling won't help anyone, it'll just give us away."

"I have to agree," George said, thoughtfully. "I'm not sure we'll be much help in such a search either, even with the lantern."

Fritz reconsidered, with two people doubting his plan, especially the quiet, trusting George, he was forced to concede their objections.

"When you put it like that, it does feel rather a bad plan," Fritz said. "I must just be on edge for some reason. How about you four stay here, with the lantern, and Bert and I search the webbed floor together. As we're by far the stealthiest here."

"Much better," Bert said. "But won't I just lose you in the dark?"

Fritz sighed. "It looks like I'll have to do it on my own then."

"Such is the burden of a Scout," Bert intoned.

Though Fritz wanted to argue, he found he couldn't. It was the safest choice for him and his team, and apart from Rosie, he was the only one with Awareness or any Ability to help find this key, so he put on a smile and said, "Such is the burden. Though I bear its heaviness with true dignity."

"That you do," Bert agreed, slapping him on the shoulder. "We'll wait for your swift return," he added, then in a whisper, he continued, "Try not to bring any foes back with you this time."

Fritz merely smirked and stepped into the shadows.

---

Toby was quick to Jane's side when she tripped, again, hefting and holding her light frame to his side tightly, saving her from another fall. Her foot had caught on the crumbling remains of a statue, one of the many they'd come across in the dark of these stony displays and plinths.

"Not so rough," she hissed softly.

"That's not what you've told me before," Toby said, raising an eyebrow.

"Shh," Jane whispered, smiling slightly, then punching him playfully in the ribs. "Not right now."

"Can you two stop that constant flirting," Tara said, while spinning one of her daggers. "It's sickening. It's bad enough to have to camp near you, but we're in the middle of a trapped Floor right now, so knock it off."

"Don't talk so much, you're stirring up the wind," Jasper demanded, his tone breathy and distant as if he were paying attention to something else far away. Which he was. He was leading them through the stone maze with some sort of combination of Awareness, Essence of Air and a Trait named Wind Whisperer, or so he claimed.

"They started it," Tara grumbled pushing her violet hair from her face and glaring at Jane as if it were her fault. Jane poked her tongue out at the woman who responded in kind.

"Stop. Talking," Larry growled. And they did.

In silence they walked through the tall displays, searching for anything of use. They still had to be wary of the traps, needing Tara to check suspicious things over with her Mana Sight while they looked. Unluckily, there was very little to find, just broken statues and shattered pottery. Even with their precautions, Toby still felt on edge, but he didn't think it was entirely the trapped halls.

No, seeing Fritz again, alive, unharmed and more irritating than ever, had seriously shocked him. Jane was suffering as well, he could still feel her stiff, trembling anxiety with the arm he still had wrapped around her waist. Though Fritz had claimed not to be a ghost, it was still as if they had seen one. He suppressed a shiver, even the man's eyes had changed, the dull green mottled with purple and gleaming with slight twinkling light. Those eyes always had an arrogant look before, but now and when he had glared at them it was as if he were gazing upon wretched animals, not his fellow man.

That, and his voice, his terrible voice.

He didn't know if it was just him, but he could almost hear the accusation of "Traitors" ringing at the edge of hearing. He could still feel the cold hate in that tone, like a knife tip resting against his throat. Would Fritz come for them? Bert said he'd have words with him. Could he sway the cursed fool? Would the madman listen?

It didn't bear thinking about, he'd just keep his eyes open and his daggers ready.

Bert's survival had, at least, been a relief to Toby. He and Jane had felt bad for leaving him, but they had done all they could do. The last health potion wouldn't have worked. Or so Jane had believed. His remorse came from the fact that there was nothing that they could do, not that they had survived. They deserved to live as much as anyone else, more in fact. And Toby would cut down any who said otherwise, he had the power to do so now.

"Jasper needs a break. Rest. Thirty minutes," Larry ordered, setting down his Borer-bone Club. Even though he lay the devastating weapon down carefully it still thumped the ground like a falling boulder. Nearby a piece of pottery slipped from a plinth and clinked to the ground.

No one stirred from the thud, they were used to it by now. Toby was even thankful for the Treasure's solid presence. He'd seen a brutal blow from the club save their lives when a house-sized crab had burst from shallow waters. Larry had leapt above the monster and the stone-like bone had come down like an avalanche, shattering the thick shell and scattering chitinous shards into the air. Splattering the beast like a bug.

He couldn't reminisce about their climb for long, the face of Fritz and his furious eyes flashed before him again.

"Traitors."

"Are you okay?" Jane asked, running a hand over the burn scar on her neck and face, then taking it away to rest on her stomach. She did that now when she was worried or stressed, it was a telling habit, but it was better than her biting her nails or pulling at her mousy hair as she used to.

"Yes," Toby said.

She stared at him, waiting for him to speak.

"I have a bad feeling about Fritz," Toby admitted quietly. "He could come for us. But don't worry. I think I can take him. I'm sure that Ghost Ability has a limit, and I've got a lot of knives. That and Tara's been teaching me some tricks."

"Is she now?" Jane grumbled, her face scrunching in that pretty, petty way.

"You know what I mean," Toby said, bumping his shoulder into hers gently.

They fell silent for a moment, then Jane asked softly, "Do you think he'll spite us, try and screw us over?"

"That's a good question," Larry said, intruding on their conversation. Toby glared at the man, but the brute waited for an answer unconcerned.

"I think, if he has the chance to, he will," Toby relented.

"That's no good. No good at all," Larry said. "Why'd you beg us not to fight then? Coulda' been rid of the bastard. Can't be out of love for that sneering prick."

"I had a bad feeling about it, and I don't think you should be swinging your club around on this kind of Floor. What with all the flooding," Toby hedged, though he suspected the real reason was that he had some lingering affection for Bert, he valued that friendship and had mourned its loss. Once his death had become real, on the outside, he and Jane had cried in each other's arms when they had finally finished their 'interview' and had been left alone.

And now, Bert had come back, as healthy, as easygoing, as forgiving as ever. If only they had waited before attempting the Mer spire. Asked for a week or two of rest. Maybe Bert could have joined them. But the Nightshark had plans, and the opportunity they offered had a brief window, one that he couldn't let close on him.

"And Bert's a good sort, he'll curb the worst of Fritz's fury," Jane said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Or encourage it," Toby muttered. If Bert was one thing it was fickle, as likely to change his mind and his morals to suit him as the wind was to change courses. But he could also be stubborn about his crew or a mad plan, and triply so when it came to Fritz. It was a bad combination, he was like a tornado, or a typhoon... a love-typhoon.

Toby stifled a sudden snort, and only just stopped himself from smirking at the recollection of a time before they had been tested by the Spire. A time when their crew had been whole.

"That so," Larry mused, thankfully not hearing his comment or noticing his now bitter grimace.

"Yeah, Bert loves a good fight, but not to the death," Jane explained, rubbing her scar again. "Not against people at least."

"Hmm," Larry hummed. "Makes me want to test him, might be a good fit for my enforcers."

"For what it's worth, I also had a bad feeling about striking them right there," Jasper said, also rudely entering the conversation.

"His voice was scary. I really believed he was a ghost for a moment," Tara said, piling in. "Was that an Ability?"

Toby shrugged, unwilling to admit he had also thought the man was a vengeful revenant for a moment, before his Sanguine Sight had shown him the red glow of still flowing blood in the man's veins, like a vivid, scarlet knot of pulsing roots. That and, he didn't know what that strange power had been, or just how high Fritz had Climbed. No further than the sixth. Probably.

"Do you two know what powers he has?" Larry asked.

"Only his first two Abilities," Jane said, eager to divulge what she could to impress this new crew. It was the smart choice, a survivor's choice. A traitor's choice. "Trap Sense and Stone Pit."

"Trap Sense is not bad at all, but fairly useless in a fight. Stone pit digs a hole I'm assuming?" Tara clarified.

Jane nodded. "It has some uses, a tricky ability."

"What about Bert?" Larry continued.

This caused Jane to pause, unsure about spilling those secrets. No matter he'd do it for her. If you're already in the boat you should row.

"Concussive Blow and Tough Skin," Toby provided.

"And how far do you think they Climbed the Sunken Spire?" Larry asked.

"They're Pathers, at least," Toby said uncertainly.

"Sixth at most," Jane said surely. "Can't see them going higher than that with only two of them. The spite would be too much."

"So level thirteen at most, and Bert will be the Defender and the other will be the Scout," Larry summarised.

"Yes," Jane nodded.

"Won't be a problem them, with all us level twenties," Tara said, returning a spinning, silver dagger to its sheath with a soft, satisfying thud.

Jasper nodded at that, then seemed to sense something and glanced around. He glared into the shadows. Toby also looked but whatever had caught the mage-scout's attention eluded his sight, though he thought he saw a faint pulse of red before it vanished. Jasper rubbed his brow and muttered something about chaotic currents, he rolled his shoulders, then relaxed them with a shrug.

Toby was about to mention what he saw when he was rudely interrupted, again.

"The rest looked like new Climbers," Fred said joining in the talk, just as it was beginning to lull. Arsehole. "Most of them Strikers."

"Amateurs," Larry spat.

Toby wanted to call them out, tell them that they were no different, worse even, using their Defenders as bait and losing them one by one on the past Floor. Those Defenders were hopefuls, men and women newly tolled, only rich enough to scrape together the one gold levy and some decent gear, but nowhere near enough for a guide. They'd lost some of their friends on the way but were determined to reach the top, set on a Golden climb. A fool's hope.

They'd have been better off leaving on the sixth where Larry had found them. Far better off fleeing and returning, more prepared and more practised with their Powers. They should have settled on a future Silver Climb. It would have been better than the fate they suffered. Larry himself crushed the last Defender's skull when the spite had set in.

Toby couldn't remember her last expression, he hadn't looked.

"It was better than leaving them behind," Larry had said while salvaging, stealing, her gear. "This way nothing goes to waste. Would've been a drain on our supplies and speed with that broken ankle."

He said it so offhandedly, so blithely, as if it hadn't been Larry's 'clumsy' strike that had harmed her so. And no one had said anything. This team had merely nodded along. The veterans were obviously used to this, while he and Jane simply didn't want to be next.

"What's got you so gloomy, Toby," Fred asked, bringing him from his thoughts.

"Nothing," Toby said.

"That's just how he is" Tara laughed. "It's cute. In a sad puppy kind of way," she added with a wink.

Jane scowled, and slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers and gripping hard. Tara laughed and blew them a kiss.

"That's enough of that, back to business. And the battle plan, if things come to a head," Larry said. And from what Toby knew of the man, that 'if' was a 'when'.

"Tara, Toby, you hunt the back lines as usual. You don't have to kill the two girls, holding them hostage will force a quick surrender," Larry continued. "Jane stand back and support where you can, a Water Bolt here or there wont hurt seeings you have Lifewell, just don't tire yourself too much. Jasper, Gust the one with the flail to separate them from the team. Then keep them back with your Air Bolts and watch out for the Scout with your winds. Me and Fred will strike down the middle, we'll crush Bert and the armoured lad. Any questions?"

"Are we killing them?" Fred asked casually.

"Try to keep the girls, and Bert, alive," Larry said.

"Always with the soft spot for women," Tara said, rolling her eyes.

"What can I say, I've got a good heart," Larry said with a genuine, if brutish, smile. "And you of all people should be thankful for that. You'd be mulch floating down a gutter without my mercy."

That made Tara snort derisively, though she didn't contradict him.

"And make sure you use your Treasures, that means Activate the Protective Dome and barrier rings. I don't care about the cost. Whatever they're carrying will pay for it," Larry added.

And there it was. Larry suspected them of carrying something good, and now that he had better view of their relative strength there was no way he wouldn't attempt to rob them.

"We'll jump them by the vault. And if they haven't found a key they'll be trapped with their backs to the door. It'll be like pulpin' skulg in a barrel," Larry grinned, patting a pocket that had the thick outline of a key pressing out of it.

Again, no one argued. It was better for the others to die than him and Jane. The course was set, they were in the boat. And all he could do was row.

Toby didn't like it, but he nodded.

---

Fritz slipped backwards, away from the still-talking voices. His heartbeat pulsed in his ears and fury bubbled within. He knew it, he knew he couldn't trust them. They'd spilled his and Bert's secrets, and agreed to ambush them and steal their things. Oh, and kill him, but he supposed he was used to that.

It took Fritz some effort to stop himself from turning around and trying to plunge his bone dagger into their backs. But he knew that he'd get caught, and he'd be alone. A suicidal plan, so one he wouldn't consider. He could possibly wait around, follow someone as they left their camp to relieve themselves. But, again, he didn't want to be lurking around for so long, it only increased the risk he could get found. Like he almost had been by that wind-mage with the staff.

Fritz turned the twisting maze of displays to his advantage, absently searching while his head cooled and his rage turned cold. No sign of a key yet, save the one Larry seemingly held, and what he dreaded that it might be the only one. Though he did mention 'a' key not 'the' key, so he held out some hope that there were more secreted away.

He dearly wished that it wasn't hidden on the webbed floor, which he had passed by so as to make the best of the time he had left to explore. It's dusty depths were frustrating to cross, and impossible to hack through without leaving a trail. He did, however, theorise that there had to be a map on one of these floors, some clue to the keys' location. It was usually the way of things. Floors couldn't be impossible. Deadly, sure, but not impossible.

Finding himself at a crossroads, Fritz felt a pull to the left. With no better hints at hand, he followed the intuition. Soon he was faced with one of the outer walls and he glanced up at a large stone mosaic. Some sections of its tiny tiles were missing, but on its grimy surface were the obvious lines of a map. On it, right on the eastern edge of the floor plan of the fifth floor, the webbed floor, was a small, secret room marked by the symbol of a key.

Fritz sighed.