It took Harald far too long to clean up. He just wouldn’t stop sweating, and his heart kept racing. It was almost as if his body was affronted at having been abused in such manner.

Still, elation kept Harald’s chin up. Every once in a while he’d check his window and admire his Constitution of 6. One run. But the puzzle remained. Constitution was a reflection of your hardiness, your stamina, your resilience, your ability to keep going.

How had one run raised it?

Finally cleaned, he tossed his sweaty training clothes into the hamper in his bathroom and then paused. Who would do his laundry now that Sam was free?

“Guess I’ll have to ask her to teach me,” he mused.

Then, still feeling that weird mixture of elation and nausea, he descended to the kitchen and looked around for Sam. Everything was quiet, the late afternoon casting long shadows across the marble floors.

“Sam?” He knocked on her door. “You in there?”

“Yes, one moment!”

“I’ll wait for you in the first parlor,” he called back, and stepped away. He’d never been in Sam’s room. Some unspoken agreement had ruled that her private domain; for someone with no independence or self-determination, it had always felt right, felt necessary, to give her one corner of the world that was her own.

He wasn’t going to barge in there now just because she was free.

She joined him in the parlor a minute later. But she’d changed. Literally. Gone was her maid’s outfit, reserved and subdued, elegant and proper. When she stepped into the parlor doorway, she was blushing profusely and barely able to meet his eyes.

Because she was wearing armor.

Good quality armor, too.

“Damn, Sam.” He’d been massaging his thighs, but his shock caused him to stand and admire her.

She glanced down at herself, half- shy, half-guilty. “I always thought it a frivolous expense, but. Well.”

Sam’s armor was a blend of elegance and utility, a fusion of leather and metal. A cuirass, burnished to a subtle gleam, hugged her upper torso, while her waist was cinched in dark leather. Pauldrons guarded her shoulders, with beautifully forged chainmail sleeving her arms and disappearing under her leather vambraces. Twin belts crossed at her waist, and a chainmail skirt fell over her leather breeches to her knees. She wore fingerless gloves and comfortable, sturdy looking boots.

She looked amazing.

“When did you buy all that?” Harald moved forward, awe-struck. “You look incredible.”

“You think?” Sam curled a lock of blond hair behind one ear. “I had it custom made by Furthak Minos, a well-regarded smith in the Sparks. I, well. I spent half a year finding him, then another convincing him to make this.”

“Look at how intricate this chainmail is.” The weave was dense, the chain freshly oiled, the craftsmanship obvious. “And it looks agile. Tough, but I bet you can move freely in it?”

“Oh yes.” Sam grinned. “I’ve always thought being able to dodge a blow was nearly as useful as being able to take one.”

“Always?” asked Harald, raising a brow.

Again Sam flushed and looked down at herself. “Yes. I’ve… it’s been a dream of mine to go raiding for as long as I can remember.”

Harald put his hand to his temple. “You’re serious? How did I never know about this?”

Sam glanced up at him, her expression suddenly somewhere between wry and sad. “Because you never asked, Harald.”

“True.” He felt her words like a blow. “I never could think of anything but my own misery. I’m sorry, Sam. But I wish you’d told me! We could have obsessed together! I could have given you access to Father’s library… what?”

An impish smile rose to Sam’s lips. “What makes you think I haven’t read all those books three times over?”

“You have!?”

Now she laughed, a measure of confidence coming back to her. “Of course! Honestly, taking care of you and the house was plenty of work, but what do you think I’ve done with my nights, with the days when you were gone? Just stood in the kitchen, expressionless, waiting for you to come home so I could spring back to life?”

Harald made a face. “Um. Yes?”

She mock-glared at him. “Well, you’re wrong. I’ve had the run of this house for four years. The only thing you ever noticed was whether your bath was hot, your clothing clean, and food cooked to your liking. Otherwise I’ve been able to do as I pleased.”

“No kidding.” Harald limped back to his armchair and sat. “You really do look amazing. May I ask what this Furthak charged you?”

Sam gazed down at herself and ran her hands over the form-fitting leather corset that hugged her midriff. ”It was expensive, but I’ve never regretted it. I paid three Aurora Veils.”

Harald let out a low whistle. “Three thousand Copper Moons? Where did you get so much?”

“My father never spent his pay.” Her smile turned wistful. “He left me his lifetime’s earnings. That, and I’ve been paid a Golden Dawn for every month of service since I inherited his oath.”

“Incredible. You know, you could have Awoken your Cosmos with that kind of money.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Harald sat up. “You’ve Awoken your Cosmos?!”

“Harald.” Her impatience was barely restrained. “Didn’t you hear the part about my wanting to be a raider when I earned my freedom?”

“Oh wow!” Harald grinned. “Can I see?”

She bit her lower lip.

“Oh!” Harald immediately raised both hands. “I mean, only if you feel like it! You’re obviously—obviously!—under no obligation. I’m sorry, I was just curious.”

“You know I’d show you,” she said. “It’s just… I wish it were more impressive.” And she made the gesture so that her statistics appeared before him.

Name: Samantha Tuppins

Soul Nature: Bright Star

Soul Rank: Rare

Soul Ability: Shining Beacon

Class: Majordomo 3

Class Actives: Steward’s Foresight, Calm Command

Class Passives: Guardian’s Vigil, Item Catalogue, Guest Acumen

Endowments: None

Strength: 10

Dexterity: 10

Constitution: 10

Ego: 8

Presence: 7

Thrones: 0/7

Scales: 1,310/10,000

Artifacts: None

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Servitors: None

Harald was fascinated. “You’re Third level?”

Sam made a face. “Yes, as a Majordomo. Hardly what I’d be using in the dungeon. Unless I wished to sell my services to a particularly wealthy goblin. My intention was to enroll in the Free Company as a lantern bearer till I was offered my first level in a class such as an Iron Vanguard, a Warcleaver maybe, or probably a Shieldmaiden.”

“You’ve thought this through. Obviously.” Harald studied her stats. “But you’d lose two Actives and three Passives. I know, I know. You don’t need Guest Acumen in the dungeon. It’s just… impressive.”

“No,” said Sam, and gestured at her armor. “This is impressive. “Majordomo 3’? I’ve spent years dreaming of the day I can get rid of that Class.”

“No, it really is impressive. I’ve no Class at all. Nothing.” Harald considered. “Then again, I’m a terrible yardstick to measure yourself against. And for that matter, how are all your physical stats 10’s?!”

Sam smirked. “I’ve had a lot of free time. And nobody else was using your father’s training equipment.”

Harald leaned forward. “You’ve been using Dad’s weights and gear?”

Sam crossed her arms. “Some.”

“Some.” Harald gave a despairing laugh. “You’re as strong and fast and fit as a full grown man.”

“Or woman,” corrected Sam.

“Or woman,” conceded Harald. “I just… wow. I’ve been so blind, all these years. Have you…” He hesitated, suddenly nervous. “Have you been training with a weapon?”

“No.” Sam blew a lock of blond hair out of her face and sat on the very edge of another armchair. “That was a step too far. It was one thing to train in your father’s gym. But to be sneaking out of the house for regular lessons? Impossible. I considered hiring someone to come give me lessons, but I’d already spent the majority of my savings, and I didn’t need to be a Level 3 Majordomo to know how bad that would look, having a private sword tutor coming to the estate to train the head maid.”

“Well.” Harald rubbed the back of his head and admired Sam’s armor again. “You look absolutely lethal. And far better equipped than my leather armor. I’m so impressed.”

Sam blushed. “Thanks, Harald. I’ve… it’s silly of me, but I’ve dreamed of the day I could step out of my room wearing this. But I always imagined it would be on my Emancipation. I always envisioned myself wearing this when I came to the Releasing Ceremony.” Her eyes gleamed. “Can’t say I didn’t enjoy speculating on your expression.”

Harald grinned. “I’m glad we didn’t have to wait that long. So. You’re going to go join up with the Free Company?”

“It depends.” She studied him. “What did you decide?”

“Me? Nothing so tangible as that. Just that… I’m going to get fitter, too. I’ve so much catching up to do. I was just going to exercise and train as best I could till… well. I don’t know. Till we’re evicted from here.”

“I see.”

“It’s not a complicated plan, I’ll grant you that. But I’ve no scales. No way to hire a tutor. And I don’t want to be a lantern bearer or pack carrier for a proper group of raiders. And…”

She picked up on his uneasy tone. “What is it?”

“My new window. I ran home from the Academy -”

“All the way from the Academy?” She arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Did the Admissions Officer loose their hounds?”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Harald said. “Since when have you been such a wit?”

Again Sam simply raised a brow.

“Fair. No; I was sitting there, thinking things over, and realized that what I wanted more than anything in the world was to grow strong. And I remembered this old memory of mine…” Harald recounted his conversation with his mother, and how it had rung as true for him today as it had when he was little. “So I realized that’s what I wanted. To just… push myself. To grow. So that one day I can be of service. To Flutic, to its people.”

“Given how events have been developing with the dungeon,” said Sam darkly, “you’ll probably find yourself deeply appreciated.”

“You mean with the Shudderings?”

“Not just that, but yes. You’ve been keeping track of the Mining Consortium’s monthly report and the Gazette rankings?”

“Uh…” Harald blinked. “No?”

“Honestly, Harald.” Her tone grew impatient, which was a wonder. He couldn’t think of the last time she’d dared sound impatient with him. If ever. “If you want to be a professional raider you need to keep abreast of developments. The Flutic Mining Consortium releases a monthly listing of the active raiders, listing their Class, scales recovered, and frequency of delving. There’s a specialized broadsheet called the Gazette that uses that data to estimate the quantity of scales recovered from the dungeons on a monthly basis, to rank active raiders, and chart productivity and activity over time.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” said Harald.

“What I’m getting at is that the Dungeon Gazette has charted a steady decline in both scales extracted and the success rates of new teams entering the dungeon. It’s not so alarming if you only look at the year-to-year change, but if you step back and compare numbers to five years ago, or go right back to the beginning when the Mining Consortium began to release their reports in 632, there’s a massive decline.”

Harald stared at Sam, fascinated. “How do you know all this?”

“I’ll repeat, I’ve had a lot of quiet evenings and empty nights to fill, and a brightly burning obsession of my own. But do you hear what I’m saying, Harald?” Her manner was amazingly serious and focused. “Since the records began, there’s been a 61% drop off in scale value extracted each month.”

“Sure, but like everyone says, that’s probably just because the Iron levels of the dungeon are nearly played out,” protested Harald.

“Yes, and the drop in Copper Moons and Silver Starbursts account for a lot of that percentage, relatively speaking. But do you know when the last Nightshard was brought out?”

“Um.” That was the scale his father had recovered twelve years ago. “My father’s?”

“Correct. And his was so notable because before that the last recovered was by the Dawn Guard half a century ago, in 744. It gets worse the higher up you go. The Rat Catcher brought out the last Nebula Bloom in 651. There hasn’t been a Celestial Prismwing brought out in two centuries.”

Harald sucked on his teeth. “So what does that mean?”

“What does that mean?” Sam stood and began to pace. “That Flutic has been forced to open the dungeon to foreigners, for one, in the hopes of deriving revenue by taxation. That the noble houses have stagnated, as the lack of new, high-level scales means nobody dares consume their own and lose their exalted status as a result. That the city, which was once a marvel of scale-driven wonders, is slowly regressing into a dark age, where we depend on horses for transportation and burning candles for illumination. The economy is shrinking, which means Flutic’s army is underpaid, which means those disastrous wars to contain the Marnheim civil war that the nobles insisted on a decade ago were both necessary to prop up the armed forces while also making matters here at home far worse -”

“Sam, Sam!” Harald raised his hands to cut her off.

She wheeled at the far side of the room and glared at him. “What?”

“I…” How to put his emotion into words? How every moment with her was a new liberation? “I’m just amazed by your… learning. But what you’re getting at, overall, is that Flutic has been declining, and things are getting worse.”

She sighed and sat back down. “Yes.”

“And that my resolution to be of service is thus quite timely.”

Her annoyance slipped away and she smiled. “Quite. If you can become strong enough.”

“About that.” He hesitated. It was easier to just not think about it, a habit he’d cultivated his whole life. But with a deep breath he pushed through. “My Constitution rose from a 5 to a 6 after my run home.”

“Impressive,” said Sam. “Perhaps you were just under the cusp of what you needed to rise up a rank, and that was enough?”

“Maybe. But. Do you remember my new Endowment? Demon… Demon Seed?”

“I… yes.” Her expression darkened. “I didn’t know how to address it, before.”

“It was part of the Constitution rank-up. The message read: ‘The Demon Seed Has Stirred.’”

Sam leaned forward, the leather components of her armor creaking. “That’s… Fascinating. And terrifying. What does that mean?”

“I’ve no idea. But I didn’t like it. Originally, when I first discovered the changes, I thought I could avoid this… this demonic taint… by simply not doing evil stuff. But how is running evil? Why would a three mile run—and a bad one at that—nurture the Seed?”

Sam bit her lower lip as she considered. “There weren’t any books on demons in your father’s library,” she said at last. “But there have to be people who’ve studied this in the past. Perhaps we can gain access to a demonology book that would explain it.”

“Right. Yes. The Academy, perhaps, or the Royal Library.” He winced. “Not that I have access to either.”

“The Free Company has it’s own collection. Perhaps if we joined, we could gain access there.”

“True. But we’d have to join as lantern bearers.”

“Which you’re too good for.”

Harald hesitated, then simply nodded. “It’s not how I want to start. I’ve got this… strange and terrifying new window. My Soul Rank is Divine.” He shrugged helplessly. “I feel like I can’t just go carry a lantern for some random person, you know? I have to make something of that.” He considered, then sat up straighter. “No. I mean I will make something of that.”

“All right.” Sam considered him. “The next payment on the house is due in one week. Once we fail to make it, we’ll be given a thirty day period to make the payment. If we still haven’t paid it by then, we’ll be fined and given a final month to pay as they begin the court proceedings to take the house away from us.”

“How long will that take?”

“Since we don’t have the funds to contest it, probably that second month. But once the judge agrees that we’re in default, they’ll order us evicted so that the city may claim the house and decide how best to use it to pay off the debts.”

“So we have about two months left.”

“Two months,” agreed Sam dubiously.

“There’s a lot we can accomplish in two months.”

“There is?”

“I think so. We can train, we can exercise, we can try and find a tutor—or at the very least, spar together—and then see how things have progressed by the time we’re evicted, and make a decision then.”

“I… well, I drew up some liquidation plans in case of this worst case scenario. There’s a lot of valuable furniture, a few antiques, and a number of your father’s adventuring mementoes that will fetch a high price at auction for those obsessed with the dungeon and its history. We could try to have everything independently evaluated, but I think we’d get just as good a price if we went with one of the main auction houses. We’d simply have to get it all done before we enter the second month, because then the debtors could have the court place a hold on any such sales.”

“So we have to sell everything in four weeks?”

“We should try, at any rate.”

“And how much do you think we’d get?”

Sam wobbled her head from side to side as she considered. “Given my estimates as informed by my ability, Item Catalogue? Maybe a Horizon’s Whisper?”

“Not bad,” said Harald. “We could definitely hire a Blade Mentor for that much, if not a Sword Savant.”

“The better they are, the more expensive. We’d have to do our research, because there’s no pointing in receiving training from some genius instructor for only three weeks.”

“Sure.” Harald felt a burst of excitement. “Regardless, first I need to get into better shape. Any instructor worth their salt would laugh me out of their training hall if I walked in today. So we sell everything we can, I train and exercise, and in the meantime we’ll do research on finding the perfect mentor. By the time we’re evicted, we’ll be ready for anything.”

He half expected Sam to laugh scornfully at him, as Vic or the others would have done, but she simply sat up straight, looking glorious in her masterwork armor, and gave a firm nod.

“Yes,” she said, with admirable conviction. “All right. Let’s do it.”

Harald hesitated. “You can also obviously still join the Free Company. You’re -”

She flushed, hesitated for a terrible second, then shook her head sharply as if chasing away a fly. “Don’t be an idiot, Harald.” She smiled stiffly. “Stop.”

A blush of warmth spread through his chest, and to his surprise, despite everything, despite the Demon Seed, the imminent eviction, and the turning upside of his entire world, he realized that he’d never been happier. “All right. Great. Then we’ll train together as hard as we can.”

Sam rose smoothly to her feet and extended her hand. “Seeing as I’ve some experience in all this, how about I help guide you through your first couple of months?”

Harald stood and grasped her hand. It was surprisingly strong and callused. “Only if you don’t hold back.”

“Oh, don’t worry on that score.” Her smile became predatory. “I’ve four years of vengeance to catch up on. You’re not going to know what hit you.”