It was strange to speak of night in a dungeon where all light was a borrowed thing, an intrusion, and dark was the default state of being. But we humans could feel in our cores when it was not our time, and fighting against nature in this was typically unwise.

Two of us kept watch for a span of two hours, then traded with another two, for a total of eight hours. Since the most inexperienced among us had the longest and bleakest trip ahead of him, I told the soldiers to let Ray sleep. There was no chance I could personally sleep a wink in such a place, so I could just as well take two watches.

Immersed in the shadow and peril, my senses kept in full alert at all ties, hungrily taking in the arid, cold air of the stone hall, restlessly browsing its silence for the faintest suggestion of trouble. It was almost as if there was a part somewhere inside me that desired trouble and reveled in it. I detested the thought of having something so unsightly in my being, suppressed it and sat quietly, resting as well as I was able, even as a portion of my awareness kept vigil. Having one or two sleepless nights was nothing unusual or worth mentioning for a maid.

Nothing came to attack us that night. Samuel would begin snoring at times, a watchman would go kick his boot to silence the corporal, add twigs to the fire, and peace was restored. Then, with the stealth of a phantom thief, light found its way into our midst in this secluded pocket of rock, and the second day of dungeon-crawling was upon us.

We had a light breakfast, packed up the camp, and resumed the march. Ray was in high spirits after his rest, though he still reeked like a corpse dug up from a dumpyard. Thiselt and Klein wanted to dub the youth “goblin champion,” which he didn’t appreciate, insisting he shared no resemblance or ancestry with goblins. The banter was all good-natured.

In only a day, Ray had made friends with all the soldiers, and they had taken him as one of their own. It was a wondrous achievement in my eyes, and one wholly beyond my personal ability. I had a feeling there was never a time when I got along especially well with anyone in my life. There was ever a wall. Either you stood higher, or you stood lower, but never in the same place, on an equal footing, seeing eye to eye.

Was overcoming that wall also one of the qualities of a “hero”?

Or was it simply who he was, as a man?

Of the guards, Captain Vergil and Corporal Thiselt had volunteered to leave service and accompany Ray on his quest to defeat the Dark Lord. In Faulsen, they were to meet up with the wizard Alhereid, who would lead them north to the Stillshrine of Rittgard in the Calla’s Peaks, to seek the magic sword Sirius Alpha, the true weapon of heroes. Where the road would take them from there, the Gods could only know.

Meanwhile, Corporal Samuel, Sergeant Klein, and myself would return to the Empire the way we’d come, our duty done. The thought of having to pass through these joyless caves once more was not pleasant to any of us, but such was our job. Not having to worry about the hero’s well-being, we would at least be able to make the trip somewhat quicker. That said, it was too early to speak of the return trip before we were through one way first.

We walked.

As the novelty of it wore off, the lost city of dwarves began to blend into one endless stream of desaturated oblongs and triangles in our eyes, of empty window holes, gossamered corridors, and desolate avenues. Long shades and sparse highlights, and so many muffled whispers of loss. Our initial sense of wonder and tension became replaced by a weary indifference, our finite pity for the ghosts of old by now spent.

I forced myself to keep an eye on the field, so that I’d know the way back and wouldn’t have to be as heavily dependent on the map and markers.

What we had braved through the previous day had been an upper-class residential area of sorts, marked by high mansions and a wealth of walls, whereas today’s stretch showed a steep contrast in elevation. The path that had previously crossed level halls and flat plazas now mostly fell on barren stairs. Long, steep, winding stairways cut directly into bedrock, treacherously effortless to navigate. It was always simple to go downward. Too simple. Anyone could manage a stairway or two, but when your step count was in the thousands, everyone began to slip up and stumble.

These stairs were perhaps regally wide for short dwarf feet but became rather precarious under human travelers. Guard railings and balustrades were not part of local building conventions. Miss a step, and you were liable to go plummeting a long way down to injury or death. Having to keep constantly attentive and mindful of your feet wore you down in some ways faster than battling goblins. There was no variety to it, no tricks, or technique. By noon, idle chatter had stopped, and our walkabout turned into an infernal endurance test. I could only shudder at the thought of going the same way uphill. But there was no other way.

It was well into the afternoon, when we came out into a high, open cavern. The district continued along in the east, while in the west, right by the stairs, all land fell in a startlingly vast chasm. It wormed southward into the distance, a serpentine canyon missing both a cap and a bottom.

On the far side of the unfathomable depths rose a natural, smoothly undulating rock wall untouched by dwarven drills. The rise was almost vertical and covered all over in a milky film of frost. From unseen heights above, a wide beam of pallid morning light fell upon the wall and made it twinkle like a field of diamonds. A view both enthralling and terrifying.

“Whoa, would you look at that!” Ray exclaimed, so taken by the view that he slipped and nearly fell. Unfazed by his near-death experience, he steadied himself and leaned to peer over the edge into the black abyss over a hundred yards below.

Climbing the stairs directly behind him, I anticipated the upcoming question and preemptively answered,

“It is called the Earth Vein. This same gorge passes through all of Baloria. Perhaps all the Ursus Range. As if the mountains were entirely void within.”

“Wicked,” he uttered, his gaze in the distance.

Who says that?

“It is along gaps like this that the beasts of the inner earth work their way up to us,” I told him. “It is best not to linger in such places. Or things worse than goblins may catch our scent below.”

Instead of catching the drift and moving on, Ray pointed ahead over the gap.

“What are those?”

He had sharp eyes. I’d missed them at first, but numerous strange creatures clung onto the frosty wall above us on the other side. It was only where the light fell brightest that you could see them by the narrow shadows under their bodies.

They were reptiles of sorts; pale, sleek quadrupedal beasts without feathers or scales, or many distinguishing features. Wrapped in frost but unmistakably alive, some of them slightly moving, adjusting their positioning to get away from the gradually shifting beam of daylight. They held onto the steep cliff face with only their white claws, as though it were a perfectly comfortable and effortless mode of being. Tiny as the creatures looked from afar, each was the size of a grown man. And there were dozens of them.

So they did exist?

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Only one travel journal I’d read had made a brief mention of such things.

“Frostails. No wonder it’s so chilly here. They aren’t normally seen this close to the surface. Not this time of the year.”

Ray remained rooted, staring at the monsters, so I passed him by.

“Are they dangerous?”

“Yes,” I said and kept walking.

“More dangerous than goblins?”

“Frostails aren’t aggressive unless disturbed. But their body temperature is far below the freezing point. Simply letting them too near you in large numbers will kill you.”

Because of these creatures, the Guild restricted entry to Baloria in winter time. When the weather cooled, the lizards would climb up from the depths and sometimes stray outside. Only the coming of spring would chase them back down to the lower levels of the dungeon.

“Wow,” Ray exclaimed. “So, how do you fight them? With fire?”

“You don’t. Do keep up.”

Thankfully, goblins didn’t like frostails any more than people did. You typically wouldn’t encounter both in the same area, and for that, I was glad.

The way followed the limits of the winding gorge for uncounted miles. Along the stairs down, right on the brink of perdition, posed small roadside shrines and pavilions converted into improvised battlements to face the menace of the deep.

Deserted ballistas stood perched on the edge like birds of prey, aimed as far down as their stiff stands allowed. On the opposite wall jutted the eroded remains of great harpoons that had missed their targets. We could only imagine what those targets had been. A number of harpoons had ropes tied to them, so that the limited ammunition could be retrieved and reused. Left be, the old ropes now dangled across the hollow like jungle vines.

We saw no corpses, though. Not those of dwarves, nor those of monsters. Travelers passed here frequently, after all, and the more obvious signs of war had been long since cleaned away, including barricades on the path, and any unused weaponry. Although some rotten, broken cavalry obstacles could still be seen cast off the stairs and left alone.

In the early evening, the rivers of stairs finally ran dry, and we stopped to have a proper meal. Everyone was pleased to have a flat floor under their feet again, and the destination felt a great deal nearer.

Ray was to register as an adventurer at the Guild branch in Faulsen. He could have registered in Valengrad too, perhaps, but the registration branch was marked on the tags. The hero’s journey would take him to lands that didn’t love the Empire much, and any record of his stay in Ferdina could put his life in unwarranted danger. It was better he registered in Argento, a kingdom small and harmless in the world at large.

On the way towards that, I put his knowledge of the Guild’s rules to the test.

Undertaking the training course as I did was the most reliable method to get approved, but we didn’t have half a year to waste for that. There were other ways too, such as having a mentoring guild member vouch for his ability. In this case, I was that mentor and would give the man my recommendation, and passing safely through Baloria would be proof enough of his qualities as an adventurer.

This wouldn’t spare him of the written exam, however.

The Guild had certain principles and codes of conduct all members had to learn by heart. Failure to protect them would get your registration revoked in the best case, and in the worst put you in prison. But Ray had studied for this too, and even without imperial tutors, the Guild rules were nothing common sense didn’t cover.

In dungeons, there were no nationalities. All adventurers were allies.

Don’t kill another person.

Don’t steal from a comrade.

Don’t abandon anyone who seeks help.

Don’t knowingly bring trouble to another.

And, at the same time—don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.

In this regard, the code of adventurers differed starkly from the common law. Your own safety took precedence over other conditions. If help and counsel were clearly refused, then you were not to interfere with other adventurers, even if it meant abandoning the opponent to a certain doom. Death was ever present in dungeons. Sticking your neck out for people too foolish for their own good was only liable to take everyone involved to the Ferrier.

And lastly, the part already covered the day before, the part easiest to remember for most people: whatever you picked up in a dungeon was yours, tax-free, no strings attached. There were quite many additional clauses in the rulebook to flesh out the nuances of ownership, but no reason to dwell on that now. The essentials of the matter were surely clear to anyone not seeking to be an imp on purpose.

Ray answered my questions without noteworthy trouble, and I was glad to give him a passing grade for my own part. The applicant could only have 10% incorrect answers to pass the Guild’s test, but I had no doubt he would earn full marks.

“Do you then have any remaining questions I might answer?” I asked him in the end.

Ray pondered for a moment, eyes up in the shadowy ceiling, and then answered,

“No, not in particular?”

I had imagined the chosen one would be more under pressure. It wouldn’t have been strange to find him shedding bitter tears in terror. But there was no visible doubt or anxiety to be spied in Raymond's demeanor. His steps were light, head held high, eyes looking for more strange things.

“I see,” I spoke to his back. “It is true that your burdens are in a different league. Signing up as an adventurer is only one small step on your path. But you are still human. However strong you grow, there are certain to come times when you’ll feel lost and confused. There’s no shame in acknowledging then that there are things you don’t know. Things that simply happen and can’t be helped.”

“Hey, all I need is take out the Dark Lord, right?” he answered. “No point overthinking it. I’ll just have to go and take care of it, the sooner the better. Then everything will be fine again. I can take my time adventuring when it's all over.”

Like so, he casually waved away my words and I had no more wisdom to give him.

I was not a mentor of heroes. I was just a maid.