Mr Klaus dragged himself up from his seat. In the corner of the dining room stood a high wardrobe to which he directed his labored steps. From somewhere among the musty felt coats, mufflers of mixed colors, and rough-knit sweaters he dug out a large scroll of paper, nearly as long as the dwarf himself was tall. He brought it over and passed it to me.

“Take it.”

Deeply mystified, I took the heavy scroll, set it onto the table, and rolled it partially open. On the resilient, dark carbon paper was drawn in thin, pale lines a meticulous, labyrinthine illustration filling the large sheet nearly from corner to corner.

Adjusting to that at first bewildering jungle of small detail, my eyes quickly picked up on the few similarities to what I had beheld many times before, and confirmed what my gut feeling had already half-guessed.

It was a map.

The most detailed, true-to-life map of the dungeon under the mountains I had seen. Each district, every major area, every gate, and bridge, marked down with such precision you could almost perceive yourself standing down there in the halls of monsters again. But there was an enormous gap between what I knew of Baloria for a fact, what I had imagined it was like, and the geometric truth represented in the drawing.

Map of Baloria [https://i.postimg.cc/3NTyLkFD/baloria-map-small.jpg]

Everyone knew there was more to the realm going westward, but just how much more there could be—the Guild’s maps hardly captured a fragment of the whole.

Confronting the parts hitherto unknown rendered me astounded, to say the least. I had to support myself against the table with both hands. The schematics drove home truly how mad I had been to ever think I could force my way through the underground realm by stubbornness alone.

“There it is,” Mr Klaus said. “Baloria. This map was gifted to my father once by the royal city engineer himself. It is only a rough hand-drawing, mind you, and not terribly detailed. What it depicts is but the surface layer too. Rather than the horizontal cities you humans build on land, you should think of Baloria as a vertical one; each burg, as we call them, is made up of multiple overlapping layers. But the map should still give you a rough idea of what’s where. Should be better than nothing. Take it, in payment for your kindness this day.”

“Is it truly all right for me to have this?” I asked him.

“Why, it is of no use to anyone in my closet,” Mr Klaus said with a dismissive wave of a hand and returned to his seat. “I’m not hiking up that hill any day soon. I doubt my own people will come asking for it either, while I still draw breath. You could say it is my duty to pass it on to someone who might need it. Though, if allowed to be honest, I don't see myself doing you a favor by giving it.”

“But if you took this to the Guild, I reckon you wouldn’t need to worry about money again in your time.”

“Please.” The dwarf raised his hand with a grimace. “I know it is not my place to ask, but no word of this to the Guild, if you will. As I have told you, I am no friend to Master Braghin, nor the Jarl. Neither have your adventuring colleagues been particularly good to me over the years. Even if their money bought me the Quartz King’s Course every day of the week, the food would taste like ash in my mouth. Neither do I want a line of fortune-seekers behind my door, asking for painful stories and more pieces of my wardrobe. The past hurts, Miss. Believe it, it is a gaping wound. Pray, tell no one you got this story from me. I am not long for this life and only wish to spend the remainder of it in peace and quiet. Alone with my mistakes.”

I recalled what Mrs Rheynes had mentioned back in the Guild, of Mr Klaus and his troubled life, and nodded.

“I understand.”

“If you want to sell the map yourself, I will not stop you,” he added. “But in exchange, swear to me, you will speak no more of venturing into that den of ghosts. Find yourself a good house and a good man on this side of the Ursi, and live a long life. A safe life, far from the nightmare under rock.”

“I am most grateful for your help, Mr Klaus,” I answered him, “but I’m afraid I couldn’t keep such a promise. The map shall stay with me until I no longer need it. Then either I will find it a new home, or someone will pick it off my corpse.”

Mr Klaus shook his head with a sigh. “A stubborn one, aren’t ya. Were you any shorter, you'd fit right in with the Ridge people.”

I didn't mistake it for a compliment, but there were occasions when being stubborn could be a person's sole saving grace.

I began at once to look for an alternative crossing over the Vein. As far as I could tell, there were indeed multiple possible paths to the south side, albeit each at a formidable distance from the entrance. I decided to consult the expert.

“Do you know if the other bridges over the Vein still stand?”

Mr Klaus filled his tankard with a face that didn’t inspire faith.

“There were many bridges,” he said. “Most of them too small to be marked on that map. Not only stone bridges, but such of iron that could be retracted and moved about, and also light ones made up of plain rope and board. But how many remain in service after all this time, I couldn’t begin to guess. Many were destroyed already in our time. By the fighting, and by ourselves, to keep the monsters from spilling over.”

“I see…”

So it was as I’d surmised.

Mr Klaus poked at the map with his stubby finger.

“Your best bet is the Mirth-Mawe Market Bridge, as far as I can tell. Of all the bridges, it was the largest, sculpted of the adamant mountain rock, requiring no runes to hold aloft. It was a busy shopping venue once upon a time and a popular meeting place. It had emotional value. My people would have been reluctant to break it, even if they had the opportunity.”

“That is encouraging.”

“However,” he continued, “it being large comes with its downsides. The crossing is certain to be frequented by monsters also. It is wide-exposed, with no hiding places anywhere upon it. I fear fighting is unavoidable if you go that way. If you must go, go prepared. Go with allies you can trust. Else, abandon hope.”

“I shall take your advice to heart.”

Seeing my mind was not about to change, the old dwarf made a “hmph”, and returned to the map.

“There is another route that requires no bridges, going around the Vein through Kilzen and Saizer in the east, bringing you to the exit to Vandalia’s side in the southwest. That door will take you out of the mountains faster than any other path. It is the only hope you have to get through.”

With my eyes, I followed his finger on the lines.

“But, based on your tale, Kilzen is…”

“—Where Oruthan awaits, yes. The Taurus Demon has a keen sense of smell. It will not suffer a soul to cross its territory uncontested. Going that way means certain doom. But you should understand by now, Miss, that there is no safety anywhere in there. Whichever way you turn, only deadly perils await and then some. That is the dungeon, your foe. Is whatever there is for you on the other side truly worth going through all that?”

I rolled up the map and answered,

“Who can say? All I know is that no cause of greater worth holds me here. I thank you once more, Mr Klaus, for your time and aid. If you require anything else, feel free to send a word through the Guild. I will trouble you no more tonight.”

Bidding farewell, I took my leave.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

The tale and the map gave me much to think about. Too much. My mind was split like never before, drawn a dozen ways, and I took my time on the way home to let the night wind cool my head.

There was the conscientious servant in me, disciplined through years in the service of the upper echelons of society. It insisted the only obvious and correct thing to do was to report the story to the Guild and hope the information would help clear the dungeon even a little faster and with less lives lost than otherwise.

The reward money for the map would clear my financial troubles for a time, and even if I didn’t keep the condition of starting over, there was little Mr Klaus could do about it. The principle of greater good superseded personal commitments.

But there was also another side in me.

A more primitive, cautious side, raised in the mountains of Vandalia, a stranger to civilization and principles and deeply suspicious of the like. A feral hound concerned only with its own survival. It said giving these hard-earned advantages away was beyond foolish and would come to cost me later down the line. And there were other problems as well.

First of all, I was going to need the map myself to navigate the dungeon. It was too large to carry around, but I would need to consult it regularly. If I surrendered the map to the Guild, it was possible I might never see the original again. Like any organization with the intent of being self-sustained, the Guild would undoubtedly create copies of the graphic for distribution. This was common practice. But they would obviously not share these copies for free to those whose lives depended on it, but would sell them at a premium.

Judging by what I had heard thus far, including Mr Klaus’s personal thoughts, it was not the Guild and its members that stood to profit under the circumstances, but the local Guildmaster and the Jarl of Faulsen. The idea of unrelated strangers lining their pockets thanks to Mr Klaus’s past hardship and kindness—frankly enraged me.

An act of fairness that brought about greater unfairness, what to even call such a thing?

What about the named monsters then? The survivors of Baloria had supposedly already shared the story with the Guild before, and likely in more precise detail. In that case, there had to exist, even now, records of these testimonies and the dungeon’s denizens, buried somewhere in the Guild archives.

The fact that no one had yet searched those archives and shared the contents in public could only mean there was not enough interest for it. That was to say, not enough people had died yet in this generation for those on top to take the challenge seriously.

The correct thing to do was to remind them, naturally.

But were I to do so…

Some of the menaces described by Mr Klaus were clearly B-rank, or perhaps even higher. The dungeon’s rating was a sum of many factors, but heavily leaned on the rank of its reigning lord. It was unthinkable that a dungeon with an A-rank boss in it could be rated much below that, unless the encounter rate were extremely low.

If these named monsters were found again and officially rated, and Baloria’s rank raised accordingly—my escape from the north would slip yet further away to improbability. My goal wasn’t to become an A-rank adventurer, but only to return home quickly.

In other words, it was in my best interests to let the public believe the dungeon was easy, despite this being obviously untrue.

Was it too heartless of me?

I would abandon all those adventurers to ignorance and peril, only for personal reasons? Should I have sacrificed my old life and future to their benefit then? For the good of strangers?

But was not everyone in it for only personal reasons?

What made these people’s reasons more valuable than mine? Nobody forced them into the dungeon. It was not a basic human right, but a privilege exercised voluntarily. The others were in it for fame and fortune, and I for my—

“…”

I very nearly let that word slip.

Family. It was not a word a mere servant could use of the Imperial House, but it had come to me spontaneously, by pure instinct.

What else to call it?

Beyond lofty royalty, they were a gathering of people far from perfect, each with their own peculiarities and biases, some of them borderline intolerable, but with whom I’d nonetheless shared every waking hour of my life for several years, and who had all become dear to me. I had no replacement for them and would gladly have traded a hundred adventurers for each one.

In Ferdina was not only my employer, but the closest thing I had to a home, a place where I belonged. Was it strange then that I’d favor them above anything and everything? That was my duty.

And my mind was made up.

“May the gods judge me if I’ve chosen poorly.”

I entrusted the consequences to the Heavens and put the matter behind me.

It had gotten dark by the time I returned to Ms Vera’s house. Both siblings were already there, the smell of dinner wafting from the kitchen’s direction. I left my boots in the shoe rack beside the doorway and went into the dining room.

“Good evening. My apologies for coming so late.”

“Oh. Hi,” Ms Vera greeted me with little energy from her post at the stove, stirring the pot. “It’s not like there’s a curfew. You can come and go as you please, just lock the door after yourself. And don’t go getting into any trouble at night, alright? If guards ever come asking, I’ll point them straight to your door.”

“Duly noted.”

Ms Vera cringed. “You really don’t ever crack a smile, do you…?”

Was it only a joke then?

Norn sat at the table, leaning on his elbows, and greeted me only with the usual disapproving scowl.

“The day’s earnings were fifteen coppers,” I reported and laid the coins on the table. “Would you be content with five?”

“Huh?” Ms Vera mumbled absentmindedly without turning. “It’s fine! You don’t need to pay me today.”

“Hm?”

Her unexpected generosity took me aback.

“You did work for old Klaus today, didn’t you? I heard. So it’s fine.”

I failed to see how that explained anything.

“This house was half built by Klaus’s son, Torvid,” Ms Vera explained, seeing my puzzled look. “That table there is the old master’s own work too. Torvid and our dad used to be pretty tight. Those dwarves did a lot for our family when we were still new in town and couldn't tell left from right. I’m sure Klaus was happy to get company today. He doesn’t get that a lot these days. As far as I’m concerned, any good you do for that dear dwarf, you do for me. So keep your coin.”

How unexpected indeed.

I had taken Ms Vera for the “take everything you can get”-type, but she could be surprisingly honorable too. I put the copper back into my pocket and sat down at the table.

Alas, I didn’t go there to humor Mr Klaus, but only gave him trouble after trouble and made him recall unpleasant things. But what was done was done.

“He never mentioned having a son,” I said.

“No surprise there,” Ms Vera replied with a wry laugh. “They had a falling out, already back when I was still little. Torvid doesn’t live here anymore. He went to his kind in the Blue Ridge. Their shop’s closed for good.”

“Really? May I ask why?”

“You adventurers really are too curious for your own good, aren’t you? Oh, whatever. It’s not a big secret. Nothing to write books about, just the worn old story. Klaus and his son were both heavy into cups. They got into a drunken argument one time in the heart of winter. Don’t ask what for, I don’t know, but it turned to fisticuffs. Old Klaus wrestled his son out into the snow and locked him out. Torvid was set to sit the night out and not budge from the yard until his dad would give in and let him back in. But Klaus never opened the door. He drank too much and lay passed out. Poor Tor was frozen blue before he gave up his pride and came to ask our dad if he could warm up in our house. The dwarves weren’t on speaking terms after that, as you might expect. Tor moved out a few days later. Never came back.”

“…”

And losing his son was what made Mr Klaus swear off alcohol? In which case, I didn’t really do him any favors by bringing that mead. Maybe giving people what they wanted wasn’t unconditionally a virtuous deed?

“A real shame,” Ms Vera lamented, ignorant of my thoughts. “They made stuff to last, those two. Whatever shape wood could be worked into, they could do it, be it wheels or barrels, chairs, or mills. Nihls isn’t bad, don’t get me wrong, but he’s still got ways to go before he’s up there on the level of dwarven craftsmanship. They even made this cool toy horse for Norn as a birthday present too. It should still be around here somewhere.”

“Sis!” Norn protested bashfully. “I was like four when I got that! As if I’d still keep such crap around! I turned it to tinder ages ago!”

“Wasn’t it only before Midwinter last year that you were telling me how pretty it is, and you’d never give it away for any money?”

The younger brother’s face flashed bright red and his voice rose to a rather high pitch. “No! No way! What are you talking about? Bah! I never said that! Quit making things up!”

“So loud...Who are you trying to impress?”

“Quit yapping! Geez…”

Norn faced away, still flustered and fuming, teeth grinding, the sharp ears angrily twitching. I’d thought it before, but for a male, he was awfully...cute.

Family, I mumbled that word under my breath again.

There were many kinds of those.