Telbarantis’ massive form loomed over his temple. His head tilted, a single yellow eye beaming down, he observed his followers. The priesthood was gathered on the island, near the docks where the Great Spirit had first emerged. Void leaned on Twist for support, looking up with less fear on her face than earlier in the day. Dusk was settling in over Oudsted and the lake. A shadow cast by the spirit loomed over all.

“There are protocols,” Egbert said. Thick beads of sweat were streaming down his face. He hadn’t reacted well to their arrival, or Ethan’s demands. “She cannot join the priesthood without undergoing the trials.”

Ethan shifted his gaze from the priest to the Great Spirit. “He doesn’t want Void to stay, Tel.”

“Tell him this.”

The scales on the blue spirit shimmered. They shifted in place, creating a humming sound. Moments later, a wave of power ruptured from Telbarantis’ vast hide. Ethan grabbed onto Targe for support, but those priests not prone were thrown from their feet. The ornate windows of the temple shattered.

“My temple. My rules,” Telbarantis said.

Ethan turned to Egbert. “He said he’s gonna eat you.”

Egbert scrambled back to his feet. A track of blood now wormed its way down his face, stemming from the wound on his head. “Forgive us,” was all he said.

“Job done,” Ethan said, dusting off his white robe. “Thanks for showing up, Tel.”

“Anytime. Now that I’ve eaten the [Dungeon Core] I feel more alive than ever.”

Ethan nodded, watching as the spirit vanished from the spot. “That’s not ominous or anything. Right. Take care of Void. Got that, Egbert?”

“I understand, Caller Bells,” Egbert said, clutching his head.

The party left Void with the priests. After Telbarantis’ display, they treated her like an honored guest. Even if the priests had wounds to tend, they wouldn’t go against what the Great Spirit told them to do. A small rowboat cut a clean path across the lake, determined to beat the setting sun.

“You went far to help a stranger,” Targe said.

Ethan had already thought about that. Targe’s party might have been able to clear the dungeon alone, but Void had been instrumental during their first surprise attack. She had done so by putting herself at risk, taking on more [Void Madness] than she should have. Perhaps her actions were self-preservation, but that didn’t take away from the Caller’s thoughts on the matter.

“Don’t know if she would have done the same for any of us,” Ethan said. “But she did something good. Put herself in danger to save us. Like Twist did for me back near Luca’s temple.”

“Not the same parallel,” Twist said.

“Yeah. Twist was just being Twist. But Void really needed our help. Damn, she still does.” Targe pulled one last time on the oars, bringing the craft to the dock where they'd borrowed it. There were no attendants to tie the vessel off, so Twist took care of that. “What are we going to do first? Lucantele or that other spirit. Para… whatever.”

“Parabaxis,” Ethan said. “I’m not sure. Why are you taking up my crusade?”

“It’s been interesting,” Twist said.

“Not a good enough reason,” Ethan said. “How much money did we make on that run?”

“Assuming we can get a decent price for the [Healer’s Core]? More than we’ve made on any other dungeon run. Yeah, we lost most of the loot. But it was quick. And we helped the Great Spirit.” Targe tied off the last knot, coming over to clap a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “It’s easy to get tied up in adventuring duties. We’ve done good things. Sometimes that’s enough.”

Ethan forced himself to look at the adventure as anything but a failure. His image of adventurers was different now. He made the right decision by going with Twist and Targe. They had moral compasses that he could appreciate. A willingness to dive headlong into danger to help people was a sound quality for an adventurer to have.

But the failure of the adventure was clear. The group could no longer afford a stay at the Golden Ox Inn and were forced to share a single room at the Marsh Wolf Tavern. Ethan didn’t mind, and the other two adventurers were used to sleeping under the open sky. At least the food was decent enough. Not as luxurious as the other places they’d eaten, but watered wine was all the same. And that made most food better.

Waking the next morning, Ethan found a man standing outside their door. He was exiting, attempting to get downstairs to find food for everyone, when the frilled man stood at attention.

“Message from Duke Leonard,” the man said, puffing up at the sight of the Caller.

“Have you been waiting there long?” Ethan asked, looking in either direction. The musty hallway was empty.

“I’m duty-bound to deliver the message, sir.”

“Proceed.”

“Duke Leonard requests your presence in his citadel immediately. Your adventuring party is welcome to join you,” the messenger said. He performed an ornate salute, which included no less than three bows and a tip of his feathered hat. “Is the food here any good?”

“It’s rancid,” Ethan said. “Stick to the places near the citadel.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The messenger departed before Twist and Targe could stir. Through bleary eyes and froggy voices they asked what the man wanted.

“We’re going to see the duke. I guess,” Ethan said.

“Ugh,” Targe said, looking down at his wine-stained clothes. “In this state?”

Ethan inspected his own clothes. Whatever magic cleaned them wasn’t powerful enough to remove wine stains on such short notice. And there was a lot of wine. “Yeah. We should wash up, first.”

“Agreed,” Twist said.

The options of laundering clothes were slim in Oudsted. Most expensive inns had baths, and there were laundering services meant for rich people. No one in the party would part ways with their hard-earned coin just for clean clothes. Instead, they bought soap and took advantage of the sacred lake. They stripped down, and scrubbed their gear clean near where the lake became a river. No one bothered them, although some citizens cast concerned looks their way.

A damp party of adventurers approached the duke’s spire. Ethan always thought of it as a short, fat spire rather than a citadel. It wasn’t imposing enough to be a citadel. A spire, sure. Maybe a tower, but that was stretching the definition of the word. A portcullis was raised near the entrance, revealing two large wooden doors. When the Caller approached, the guards there opened the doors without command.

The foyer of the duke’s spire was massive. An open area where functionaries skittered about. There was something like a throne on the far side of the room, but it was empty. Instead, Duke Leonard was among his administrators. Discussing the problems of the day to resolve conflicts.

“That’s actually impressive,” Ethan said, gesturing to the duke.

“Caller Bells!” the duke shouted, stomping over the polished marble floor. He reached a hand out for Ethan to shake, which he did. “What a pleasure to see you. After solving my problem, no less. Come, let’s talk somewhere more private.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Ethan followed the duke, feeling awkward about the whole thing. Targe and Twist followed behind like lost puppies, their eyes lingering on the items of opulence that dotted the spire. The group ascended several floors, and navigated through a maze of tunnels before finding their way to a meeting room. A long wooden table dominated the center of the room, twenty high-backed chairs arranged around it. Out through the clear glass window was Oudsted, sprawled out in a way Ethan had never seen before.

“Tea?” Duke Leonard asked, producing a fancy flame-thing and a teapot.

“Yes, please.”

Targe’s adventuring party watched as the Duke of Oudsted made tea. Before long, the scent of brewing black tea filled the room. It was a more refined scent than the tea Twist had made. A hint of citrus lingered in the air, even after the duke poured four cups. He gestured for the group to sit and they obeyed.

“Now, let’s talk about the dungeon,” Leonard said. “My soldiers said you cleared it. They emphasized how rude you were. But the common soldier often misunderstands the actions of adventurers.”

“Yeah, uh,” Ethan said, fumbling before he’d even started. “Telbarantis took care of the core, and the dungeon was going to explode. So, yeah. I was really rude.”

“Don’t worry about that part,” Leonard said, sipping his tea. “What was the nature of the corruption?”

“I’m sure you know, sire,” Targe said, bowing his head. “Black ooze. Tentacles. The infection of both the dungeon core and the monsters within.”

“Right. I do know. You’re correct. Reports of the corruption came in from Brasbek to the north. The king himself has a bounty on the corrupted cores,” Leonard said. “Only a few have collected so far.”

“A bounty?” Twist asked.

Leonard turned his gaze to Twist. Ethan spotted something on the leader’s face. He was pushing something down. Revulsion, maybe.

“I’ll remind you of our agreement,” Leonard said. “Slates wiped clean and all that.”

“I wouldn’t be on the surface if my heart wasn’t with Wexenhal,” Twist said.

Leonard let out a heavy sigh, sipping his tea. “No, that’s fine. I understand. Just don’t remove the mask, alright?”

“I never intended to.”

“The value of the bounty is… how to put this? Higher than the value of ducal pardons,” Leonard said. “And I’m a fair man. You cleared my corrupted dungeon, right before it released the horrors within. For that, Sven and Deraeda get what they want. Ethan gets his place in the Guild. And you’re left with a few pieces of gold.”

“That’s a hell of an intro contract, huh?” Ethan asked. He chuckled wryly.

“That’s putting it lightly. But I know you want something. Something that doesn’t come cheap,” Leonard said.

“The temple?” Ethan asked.

“Exactly. You want to rebuild Lucantele’s temple. Fine, that’s easy enough. The Guild issues contracts to scout the area often enough, and it's within Oudsted’s borders. I don’t need to ask the archduke for permission.”

“A road would be nice,” Targe said. “That’s the biggest problem in getting there.”

“Workers. And stone,” Twist said.

“A garrison would be lovely, too,” Ethan said.

“All worth far more than a few gold coins,” Leonard said, holding his hands out palm up.

Ethan sipped his tea, trying to distract himself from that fact. The tea was lovely, though. Slightly sweet with an undercurrent of hearty black tea. That note of citrus danced on his tongue, even after swallowing his sip. He assumed this was some kind of expensive tea. That gave way to a long pause. Then the duke smiled.

“But I am a generous man,” Leonard said. “No, the word is ‘selfish’, I think. The roads that run from Oudsted are few. We have a road heading to the south, and one heading east. Our connection to Daub to the south is important, while the road heading east is vital for trade. But there’s nothing to the west, is there?”

“Sounds like a good time to build roads,” Targe said with a nod.

Leonard waved the sentiment away. He sipped his tea, then hummed a tune. “We’ve forgotten the importance of Lucantele. I received reports that he appeared in a ritual shop in town, sending waves of hope throughout the town. Do you know the result of that encounter?”

“Everyone was happy for a few days?” Ethan asked.

“More than happy. Their worries washed away, replaced by steely conviction. It was lovely,” Leonard said. “Oudsted wants more of that, and so…”

Duke Leonard removed a single gold coin from one of his many ruffles. He placed it on the table and rolled it toward Ethan. Twist intercepted it, snatching the coin up and offering a confused look to the duke.

“Oudsted will help rebuild the temple and a new road for free,” Leonard said. “I see this as a chance to destroy the encamped orcs, and establish a new bastion of hope.”

“I appreciate that, Duke Leonard,” Ethan said.

“Well, I have high expectations for you. For now, enjoy your victory,” Leonard said. His face took on a more grim countenance. “And remember who helped you get your start.”

“I don’t forget favors, Duke Leonard,” Ethan said, bowing his head. “Neither does Lucantele.”

“I’m counting on it.”

The thing Ethan enjoyed the most about Duke Leonard was his lack of formalities. As a former adventurer, he understood the importance of brevity. Without another word, the man stood and beckoned for the group to follow. He led them back to the atrium and kicked them out of the spire without hesitation.

“Bye-bye!” Duke Leonard shouted as the group stumbled out of the building.

Twist held the single gold coin in his hand, staring at it as though it were a fortune. Compared to their combined coin purses, it was a fortune. But the only point in having money in this world was to put it to work. The dark elf knew that, leading the way down the streets toward the high-end shops near the spire.

“Subcores,” Twist said. “[Blood Mage].”

“Good idea. We won’t find crap for gear in Oudsted, but they have a decent core selection. Right. You guys go shop, and I’ll hit the library… or I’ll go to the island and talk with Void,” Targe said, scratching his head. “Don’t forget to buy a spell, Twist.”

“I won’t,” Twist said.

Ethan joined with the Rogue, working their way to the shop that sold cores. They knew what they were looking for, making the process easier. The negotiations only lasted a few moments, and they bought a [Blood Mage’s Subcore] for 25 silver coins. The man at the shop was happy to make change for the gold coin, allowing them to head off to the spell shop.

“Let me see it!” Ethan asked, pawing at the subcore.

“Insert this into your chest, and I’ll anger every Great Spirit in the realm.”

Ethan snatched the core and inspected it.

[Blood Mage’s Core]

Epic

Mage-Style Core

Rank

0

Level

1

Description:

[Blood Mages] perform magic using blood. Either theirs, or that of their enemies.

Latent Effects:

Spellbook

A plain enough thing. If Ethan didn’t know it was the key to evolving [Rogue] into [Blood Rogue]. He handed the item back to Twist as they entered the spell shop. The dwarf manning the place was happy to show them her wares, eager to make a sale for the day. She only had a few books for [Blood Mage], but they fit with Twist’s combat style well. With a single spell slot, he picked a simple spell called [Bleed].

Ethan investigated other books for his [Healer’s Subcore]. There were spells like [Cure Poison], [Cure Disease], and other things but he wasn’t very interested in those at first. The tome for [Cure Wounds], an upgraded version of [Cure Minor Wounds] was restricted to Rank 1 cores. While his [Healer’s Subcore] was climbing in levels, it wasn’t yet eligible for an upgrade. Since the book for [Cure Disease] was only a silver, he bought that one with their shared money.

Twist removed his current subcore and inserted his [Blood Mage’s Subcore]. Ethan could tell the dark elf had a smile on his face, even under the stone mask. The pair walked the streets of Oudsted, wandering instead of returning to the tavern. It was a nice day with a pleasant temperature. They sniped some free food from excited vendors. Vendors who were eager to gain the favor of Lucantele once again.

“Does that mask do anything else?” Ethan asked, ripping a chunk of meat off a smoked bird’s leg.

“Protection from the sun,” Twist said, gesturing vaguely to the sky. He ripped a small piece of the meat off, feeding it under his mask.

“So, what’s the threat from the dark elves? If they can’t come to the surface?”

“They have masks.”

“Fair enough. How did you and Targe meet?”

“I fled from my people. Not through noble defiance. I failed my coming-of-age trial and was sentenced to death,” Twist said. He paused in the street, his mind drifting off to a time long gone. “Found Targe on the surface. Fleeing the army. We only just found our feet when we met you.”

“Well, I’m happy to help. You’re good people, Twist,” Ethan said.

“You too, Caller Bells, are good people,” Twist said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Happy to have met you. Glad to fight alongside you. To die with you.”

“Don’t get all dramatic on me.”

Twist nodded.

Ethan wanted to shop around. He wanted to see how bad the gear offered within Oudsted was. Not that he didn’t trust Targe, but what was useful for someone was garbage for another. But he saw the problem with the gear they sold in town. Some of it was magical, but it was extremely generic. The equipment the Caller found in dungeons often had a class-specific ability tied to it. That might have been a passive or an active ability, but they always enhanced the user’s class.

Oudsted’s gear market was as generic as they came. And the prices were absurd. When Ethan found a pair of mittens that offered a single point in [Mind], he scoffed at the one gold coin price tag. That might have worked for someone with more money than sense, but it wouldn’t do for the Caller.

Instead, the pair just enjoyed the day. They ate free food and drank free watered wine until moving was uncomfortable. Ethan enjoyed that moment, looking forward to the long road ahead. Those conflicted feelings wouldn’t come back today. Not while he had a full belly and a coin pouch filled with silver. He shared that silver with his companions. Which made it even better.