A certain unease accompanied Spok as she walked outside of the dungeon’s confines. Technically, as Switches had pointed out, she still remained connected to the main body at all times, but still, it didn’t feel like the proper way of doing it. The first few minutes, the spirit guide would constantly reach for her necklace. Holding to it gave her a certain sense of security. Without it, she felt as if she was falling into an abyss of nothingness.

Everything’s going to be alright, Spok told herself.

No doubt the abnormal state of the dungeon was affecting her as well, not to mention the whole thing with the abomination. Of all the things he had had to come across, it just had to be an abomination. If Spok didn’t know better, she’d suspect that Theo had been somehow cursed. That was impossible, of course. She and the dungeon would have known, not to mention Paris’ temple would have reacted.

People waved to the woman as she passed by. With her effectively handling all the baron’s properties—which at present amounted to half the town—Spok had quickly become a familiar face. More importantly, she was the person with inside knowledge of everything related to Cmyk—the real champion of Rosewind.

Three small griffins swooped down from the sky, landing a few steps away from Spok. It had become common for the young ones to pester people for food. Interestingly enough, what they demanded more from the spirit guide were pets and attention.

“Alright,” Spok stopped, reaching out to them. “Let’s get this done with.”

The trio rushed forward, rubbing against her legs like pet cats. As much as Spok would criticize the dungeon regarding the inept comparison, they were showing feline traits.

“Had enough?” Spok asked, while in turn scratching their necks and the space between their wings. Looking at them, it didn’t seem so. “Fly along. I have work to do.” She straightened up. “I’ll pet you more later.”

The griffins squawked, following her for several dozen steps more. Then, seeing that she was serious, reluctantly flew back into the sky.

Spok adjusted her glasses. If only dealing with the council’s nobles would be as easy. The reason for her trip “outside” the dungeon was to have a conversation with Marquis Dott regarding the future development of Rosewind. The man was the most dangerous politically, even more so than the baroness, so it was a good idea to deal with him first. And that wasn’t the only reason. The threat of zombie letters remained and while no one had acted stranger than usual so far, nothing could be taken for granted.

The marquis’ building was in eerie proximity to the duke’s castle. At some point in the past, a competition between the two’s ancestors must have taken place. Both structures were imposing, though what the marquis couldn’t achieve with size, it made up for with money. Spok instantly recognized the imported stones that were used to make the walls of the four-story building. By her estimate, each stone cost at least five silver coins—a lot more than most of the materials her own dungeon had used for its halls and structures.

The architect had initially wanted to recreate a version of the far larger castle, but had quickly given up, adding an exotic touch to it. The effort had succeeded and one could say without a doubt that the marquis home was among the most distinctive in town; or at least had been so before the appearance of Baron d’Argent’s building.

“’ello.” A guard dressed in fancy clothes, holding a rather stern pike, bowed at Spok as she approached. “’ow can I ‘elp you, Miss?”

The man was clearly foreign, his almost unnaturally pale skin standing out even more due to the flamboyant uniform. Many would be tempted to assume that the marquis had only hired him as a fashion accessory, but Spok knew better. Even in her current state, she could sense the magic of several items emanating from the man.

“I’m Spok d’Espit, governess of Baron d’Argent’s estates,” she introduced herself. “I’m here to see Marquis Dott.”

“Melo’d’s busy right now,” the guard said without hesitation. His behavior screamed skilled mercenary—too recent to know any form of local etiquette and too skilled to particularly care.

“He’ll want to see me,” Spok added with an icy edge in her voice, making it clear she wasn’t to be ignored.

“Guess we’ll see about that, Ma’am.” The man opened the outer gate, letting Spok into the small front garden.

Almost on cue, the entrance door to the main building opened and a rather stuffy servant emerged on the scene. His clothes were a lot more refined and elegant than those of the guard. Judging by his flawless hairdo and his refined manners, he had to be Spok’s counterpart.

“Welcome, d’Esprit,” the man said, omitting her first name in a clear provocation. “The marquis was just about to send for you. How fortunate for you to have saved him the trouble.”

“Fortunate indeed.” The spirit guide nodded, then adjusted her glasses once more. She had seen the man in passing multiple times, yet never once spoken to him. Officially, he hadn’t introduced himself once. One of the benefits of being a spirit guide, however, was that Spok was aware of everything that happened within, which meant the greater part of town.

The man’s name was Elric Valence. Supposedly, his family had some degree of noble blood, though currently he had been reduced to taking on a subservient position in the house of an actually successful noble. Most merchants described him as arrogant and stingy, which was why Spok had found it so easy to procure all the building materials needed for the dungeon’s reconstruction, during the goblin war and later.

“Are you here alone?” Elric asked. “I would have thought that your master could afford at hire you an assistant, at least.”

“The baron focuses on quality rather than quantity,” Spok countered. “Besides, I’m more than capable of doing my own job without—”

A sealed letter suddenly popped into existence, dropping to the front porch. Spok, Elric and the guard watched as it fell onto the stone pavement. Magic letters, while not unknown, were rather rare, used only for events of significance. Having them appear at someone’s door was an indicator of importance. That was unless someone was dealing with an actual zombie letter, and in this case, they were. Spok had recognized the black seal, the type of paper, and the cursed sensations emanating from the letter.

“The marquis seems to be rather influential.” Spok said, leaning down to pick up the letter.

Unfortunately, before she could do so, Elric’s hand grabbed her own in an unusual display of speed.

“Oh, but he is,” the man said. “Very influential. I will take that. Thank you.”

Internally, Spok sighed. She was having a bad day and things had just gotten worse.

Meanwhile, Theo’s avatar was back in the runnels beneath the cursed estate. Memoria’s Tomb, along with the statues of the heroes guarding it, had been reduced to rubble, spitting out all of its occupants. Looking closely at the remains, one could almost recognize the pieces that had gone into making the puzzle guardian. Sadly, there was no trace of the evil entity. The Abomination of Fulfillment had clearly managed to slither away faster than anyone else could react. That was a very bad sign.

AVATAR LEVEL INCREASE

Your Avatar has become Level 25.

+1 Speed, POISON RESISTANCE obtained.

0 Core Points required for next Avatar Level

AVATAR LEVEL INCREASE

Your Avatar has become Level 26.

+1 Speed, FORAGING obtained.

4800 Core Points required for next Avatar Level

POISON RESISTANCE - 1

Reduces the effects of poison through the use of 10 energy.

Using the skill increases its rank, reducing the effects of the poison even more.

FORAGING - 1

Allows you to identify useful and edible plants and mushrooms in the wilderness.

Using the skill will increase its rank, increasing the information obtained.

Acquiring two levels was, in general, a positive thing, though not when all the avatar had to gain from it were two useless skills. Poison resistance wasn’t even theoretically beneficial in any way: it still cost energy, and the effects were far weaker than the dungeon already possessed. Yet, even that was better than foraging. If there was one thing that Theo had no intention of doing was walking through the wilderness with his avatar in search of stupid herbs. There was hay for that—hay that could be spun into gold to hire people far better suited for the job.

A loud squawk coming inches from the avatar’s head quickly made him realize that there were far better things to get annoyed of other than useless skills.

“Not now.” Theo pushed the large, feathery head away. “There will be food for you later. Right now, we need to…” he paused. Need to what?

He had hoped that once the spell was broken that they’d get to fight the abomination right away. The fact that Agonia wasn’t present made things a lot more difficult. With nothing keeping her imprisoned, she could have gone anywhere she wanted by now. Hopefully, she hadn’t decided to turn Rosewind into a zombie-town. That would be uncomfortable on too many levels.

“From here on you three will look after each other,” Liandra told the trio of still yawning adventurers. The end of the spell had woken them up, though not fully. “We’ll try to break the curse for you to go back home.” She turned to Avid and Amelia. “Send a message to the hero guild the first chance you get. Understand?”

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“What about you?” the duke’s daughter asked. “And Baron d’Argent?”

“We’ll be fine.” The heroine smiled.

“Consider it part of your adventurer’s training,” the avatar added. “Any seasoned adventurer needs to know when to stay and when to go. This is the time to go.”

“But—”

A sharp glance on the baron’s part quickly made her stop.

“I’ll take care of them,” Ulf said in a somber tone. “Just try to make it out alive.”

“Do I look like someone who’d lose? I defeated Lord Mandrake and his goblin fleet. How hard could this be?”

No laughter followed. What had started as a training adventure with a grumpy, though skilled, mage to gain enough proper experience has quickly devolved into a hopeless situation. There was nothing they could do to help. The baron and the heroine were on a whole different level, not to mention that none of the adventurers could even imagine what it meant to fight an abomination. Facing the guardian was terrifying enough.

“Yes,” Avid said, the words piercing through his fear. “It can’t be that hard. You already froze half of her. All that’s left is the rest.”

Back in Rosewind a few shutters creaked. The kid had actually said something semi-decent. Well, not that decent. Theo would have done much better, naturally, but at least Avid wasn’t acting like the bookish spoiled child of the earl anymore.

“And you.” The avatar pointed at Octavian. “You better keep them safe. I expect you to fly them out the moment the curse is broken. Right?”

The griffin squawked, flapping its wings.

“Good enough,” Theo mumbled beneath his breath, then went back into the underground corridor.

As Liandra joined him, a fireball emerged just above the baron and was quickly wrapped in an aether bubble.

“I hope you’ve patented that spell,” the heroine said. “It’s very practical, so you can make a lot of money.”

“I’ll tell Spok to handle it.” Theo considered it. Actually, it wasn’t a bad idea. The money didn’t particularly matter, but the idea that he’d receive passive income through his own invention filled him with a certain sense of achievement. Once this was over, he’d look into it.

“Poor kids,” Liandra sighed. “I remember the first time I saw a dragon. Had nightmares for weeks.”

“Hmm.” Kids? The dungeon thought. They were virtually the same age, give or take a few years.

“How long have you been in this hero business?” he asked casually.

“Oh, quite a bit. It’s a family tradition. Grandpa started taking me questing when I was seven. He didn’t trust that my father was fit for it.”

“Your father wasn’t a hero?”

“Oh, he was… Just not a triple hero. Grandpa never forgave himself for that. That’s why he had a second go with me.”

“Riiiight. I take it the two of you were close.”

Theo felt a sudden chill all the way in Rosewind. Just because Liandra was friendly with his avatar didn’t mean she’d hesitate to destroy him, given the chance. If she ever learned of his true nature, let alone he was responsible for her grandfather’s death, he’d have to sacrifice all the expansions he’d created and change location fast.

“Anyway, from what I remember, in order to defeat the abomination, we must understand its nature,” he repeated what Spok had told him. “Any ideas what the nature of fulfillment is?”

“The abomination was made of blood, so that has to be connected.”

“Blood and bones,” Theo mused. “The abomination of living well and partying?”

“That’s something I haven’t figured out,” Liandra admitted. “So far, we’ve fought skeletal minions and blood creatures. The two don’t fit.”

Come to think of it, that did bother the dungeon quite a bit. With all the cursed statues and skeletons early on, he had almost been convinced that he was facing another dungeon—be it a corrupted one. Everything blood related had a completely different feel, almost if they were facing two separate evil entities. In his previous life, Theo wouldn’t have been bothered at all. Zombies, skeletons, and vampires were all considered undead, even if their origins were completely different. That wasn’t so in this world.

“Spok,” Theo said, though the part of his core that was round the spirit guide’s neck. “If you’d wait a few moments, sir. I’m, unfortunately, rather occupied at present.”

This was the first time that Spok had cut off the dungeon in such an unapologetic fashion. However, she had a very good reason. The attempt to gain possession of the cursed letter had quickly escalated into a fight.

When Elric had grabbed Spok’s hand, it wasn’t merely to move it away, but to display his own worth as an attendant. What made matters worse, he turned out to be just strong enough to be taken seriously.

Should this have occurred in the dungeon, Spok would have used the powers granted to her by Theo to have Elric trip, slam into him, or use any of the many minor spells she possessed. Here, far away from the majority of the dungeon’s main body, she only had two things to rely on: speed and telekinesis.

Pulling her hand out before the man could tighter his grip, Spok reached for the letter once more. That time, the mercenary had struck the letter with his spear, pulling it out of reach.

“Don’t damage it!” both Elric and Spik said in unison as they turned at the guard. “It has to remain intact!”

From Spok’s perspective, she didn’t want to risk curst fragments flying about town. Elric, on the other hand, was terrifying what Marquis Dott would think upon receiving anything less than perfection. In this particular case, both their fears desired the same outcome.

“Why not?” the guard asked, once the initial surprise had subsided. “We’ll say she did it.” He looked at Spok.

Elric and the spirit guide looked at each other. The thought crossed through both their minds.

While Elric found it preferable to have the letter delivered intact, he was prepared to redirect the blame entirely to her.

Spok could see it happen all too well, which is why, without hesitation, she used a bit of telekinesis to fetch the letter. The good news was that the spell had an effect, removing the piece of paper from the tip of the mercenary’s spear. The bad news was that since she wasn’t within the dungeon proper, the effect of her spells was vastly diminished, preventing it from reaching her hand.

“Magic?” Elric scoffed. “And here I was to think that you’d observe proper etiquette.” He leaped up, in an attempt to each the letter.

As he did, the spirit guide used more of her telekinesis, but instead of pulling the letter towards her, she pushed it away.

“My master is a mage,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “Magic is part of the etiquette.”

From here, an intricate but lethal series of attack and counter attacks followed with each aiming to get the prize for their own reasons. In a normal situation, Spok would have had the upper hand: she was faster and knew just the right amount of magic. Unfortunately, against the combined effort of Elric and the mercenary, even she came short.

Three completely different fighting styles clashed. After a while, no one focused on getting the letter, but rather on preventing the other party from doing so. Spear faced telekinesis, which in turn faced sleight of hand. Spok’s magic and reflexes won out against Elric—even if she increasingly suspected that he had assassin training—yet would always fail against the guard’s spear. Elric, on his part, could easily get the letter from the tipoff the spear, yet be constantly kept from doing so by Spok.

Seconds turned to minutes as the ever-growing game of rock-paper-scissors increased in complexity.

“Have you stooped so low as to steal other people’s letters?” Elric asked, casually tossing a throwing knife in Spok’s direction.

“That depends on the letter.” Spok used telekinesis to change the direction of the knife, making it fly straight up. “And the suitability of the person who’s to deliver it.” She pulled off tiles from the near part of the roof, making them rain onto her opponents.

The sudden change forced Elric to pause his attempt to grab the letter, as he focused on keeping his head intact. Alas, the guard had no such issue. With the movements of a skilled mercenary, he managed to smash the tiles as they fell onto him, while also keep the letter out of Spok’s reach.

It’s always the mercenaries that cause the greatest problems, Spok said to herself.

Unlike the common noble servants, their skill and reputation had to be top-notch for them to be hired; and given how much money the man had spent on magic items, he had to have earned a considerable sum indeed.

“Would it be rude to double your price?” Spok asked, while pouring more tiles onto the man. “I can pay in gold.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the guard replied in somewhat apologetic fashion. “I’ve still three months in my contract. Maybe after that.”

“Magic contract?” Spok inquired as she tried to use one of the tiles to scoop up the letter.

“Cleric contract,” the man corrected, smashing the tile, thus keeping the letter out of reach.

“Only a fool would rely on a magic contract with a mage in town.” Elric threw half a dozen more knives at Spok, who moved about some of the falling tiles to use as shields. “You’re outmatched, d’Esprit,” he added. “Ruining the rooftop shows your desperation.”

That wasn’t at all the word that Spok would use. As a spirit guide, she was aware that the man was projecting. His own movements had gotten ever so slower since the start of the exchange. As a governor of the baron’s estate, however, the suggestion filled her with anger she didn’t know she possessed.

“Really?” Abruptly, she ended her use of telekinesis. “I was trying to be nice about it, but you gave me no choice.”

Tenseness filled the air. Elric and the guard stood in silence, preparing for what the woman would do. As they did, the letter gently floated to the ground, completely ignored for once.

“And what would that be?” Elric called her bluff.

“This.” Spok reached out in his direction, then used her telekinesis.

Rap. Tap. Tap.

A series of louds sounds came from the door.

“That it?” the mercenary asked, confused.

Rap. Tap. Tap.

The sound repeated.

Drops of sweat formed on the attendant’s face.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, trying to prove that he was still in control.

“Oh, I would.”

The tapping sounded again.

“I don’t get it.” The mercenary arched a brow.

The answer came soon enough in the form of an angry shout from within the mansion.

“Elric!” the voice of Marquis Dott thundered. “What is that infernal noise at the door?! Go ahead and open it, man!”

It was both scientifically and magically proven that people reacted to sounds differently. Adventurers were perfectly capable of whispering among themselves in a rowdy tavern, not even noticing the sudden sound of swords clashing, women screaming, or even a wild animal roaring. There had been documented instances of people ignoring an avalanche, yet hearing a coin hit the floor. Some had named the condition “selective deafness.” In the case of nobles—just like grumpy dungeons—nothing made more noise than the sound of unanswered knocking on the door.

“Sir, I—” Elric began, but it was already too late.

The marquis was already en route, angrily making his way through rooms and corridors until he reached the front door. The anger was so great that it could be heard in his steps.

Knowing what was in store, Elric swallowed. Even the mercenary took several steps back, moving to the outer gate where he was supposed to be.

I warned you, Spok thought, at the sweet sight of victory.

With no one focusing on the cursed letter, she discretely took a few steps towards it, then picked it up and created an identical copy.

“You better have a good reason as for—” the marquis emerged. Seeing Spok there, he stopped. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Good morning, sir,” Spok said with a slight curtsey, as etiquette demanded. “Apologies for the disturbance. I’m here on behalf of Baron d’Argent.”

“Oh? What’s he gotten himself messed up in again?”

“Nothing he couldn’t handle, sir,” the spirit guide lied. “The baron wanted me to assure you that he will gladly construct any buildings you wish in the new section and let you use them for an insignificant fee.”

“Ah.” The man’s attitude changed. The answer that stuck to his face like a mask instantly vanished. The features of an experienced negotiator came to the front, one who knew the value of the deal he’d been offered. “Wonderful. I’ll have my architects make what he needs. I trust he’ll be able to handle it after his return?”

“Naturally, sir. I’ll see to it, personally.”

“Splendid.”

“Oh, and one last thing, Marquis.” Spok reached out. “You seem to have received a latter. I couldn’t help but pick it up from the ground.”