It was Vic that spoke first, his expression having turned hard. “You’re willing to put this all down in a contract?”

“Sure.”

“And in exchange you expect what, exactly, of us?”

“Vic,” protested Sam. “He’s already made that clear.”

“No strings attached?” Vic laughed. “I wasn’t born yesterday. Everything has a price.”

“He’s asking us to become embroiled in this celestial war,” said Nessa quietly. “Isn’t that cost enough?”

Vic waved this away. “Honestly, that feels too vague a commitment. We’re talking 250,000 scales. Nobody throws that kind of wealth away. Nobody.”

“I’m not throwing it away. I’m…” Vic’s anger surprised Harald. Perhaps if he spoke Vik’s language? “I’m investing in the three of you. Instead of your schemes that’ll make me scales, I’m choosing to invest in a scheme that will provide me intangible but crucial benefits down the road.”

“Smart,” said Nessa. “Binding us to you with chains of gold instead of iron.”

“I’m not…” Harald pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look. You can say no. Obviously. And I’d understand. Who in their right mind would want to walk this road with me? But I’m trying to do better than I was only a few days ago. I’m trying to be honest with you three, and to put my money where my mouth is.”

“A bribe,” said Vic with a cruel smile. “Ah, now I understand.”

Sam glared at him. “Are you trying to not understand on purpose?”

“Not a bribe,” said Harald. “How many Thrones have you Ascended to, Vic?”

“One.”

“You’re a Level 3 Rapier Regent with one Throne. If I absorbed all this, I might soon be a Level 1 Abyssal Initiate with three Thrones. And if I continue to train and raid at the rate I intend to, how long will it take me to leave you behind?”

Vic drew himself up. “You’d have to survive that long.”

“Exactly. That’s my point. My chances of survival are far better if we tackle these problems together. On more or less equal footing. If I just charge myself up, I might become powerful in the immediate short term, but I’ll probably end up dead or corrupted. Think of my father’s warning. I don’t want that. Hence why I’m investing in our group. In my friends.”

Vic’s gaze glittered with mocking cruelty. “This is so sweet. Excuse me for not believing it. I’ll take your scales, but I’ve already sold my services to Countess Sonora.”

“The angels damnit, Vic,” snapped Nessa.

“What?” He glared at her. “I’ve been around for too long to believe in such saccharine gestures. Write it all up on paper, Harald, and then we’ll talk.”

And he climbed the staircase quickly and was gone.

“Well,” said Harald, fighting hard not to feel deflated. “That didn’t go how I expected.”

“I think it’s an amazing thing you’re trying to do,” said Sam. “I have my own reservations, but I appreciate where you’re coming from.”

Nessa sighed. “Vic… you’ll have to be patient with him.”

“But why did he get angry at me?” Harald ran his hand over his short hair. “You’d think I was trying to coerce him, or scam him in some way.”

“Vic is…” Nessa sought the right words. “Vic’s a creature of the streets. He had a brutal upbringing.” She was clearly picking her phrases with extreme care. “He’s become the man you know today by… adapting to how the street works. How it’s worked for him. And… he’s smart and talented enough that he’s found a way to not only navigate that world, but to rise to the fringes of the noble courts, where things were even more cruel and cut throat. But this thing you’ve offered…”

“Oh,” said Harald.

Sam was nodding. “It’s not how his world works?”

Nessa laughed. “In his world, which has been mine for a few years now, every free gift is a trap. The closest we can get is taking a naive and wealthy mark for a ride. But then that’s our taking, not receiving.”

“A naive and wealthy mark,” said Harald softly.

Nessa’s smile was knowing and unapologetic.

“So Harald offering that many scales…?” Sam was trying to piece it together. “That was an attack on how he understands the world?”

“Something like that.” Nessa shook her head sadly. “We’re all broken in our own way, and we’ve all done our best to cobble ourselves back together. But no matter how artfully we rearrange the pieces, the cracks will always show. Vic… Vic understands the world in terms of quid pro quo.”

“Everything?” asked Harald.

“Everything,” said Nessa. “It’s not cynicism, exactly. It’s…”

“A need not to be hurt,” whispered Sam.

Nessa nodded sadly. “Even my relationship with him. He’s risked his life for me several times. And I’ve done the same for him. But if you put a knife to his throat, he’d stare you in the eye and tell you he only keeps me around for the advantages I bring Countess Sonora’s group, or because having me on his arm in the Shambles elevates his own status due to my looks.”

Harald rubbed his face. “So… I can’t just give him the scales?”

“Oh, you most definitely can. But think of it like medicine. If you want it to go down smooth, you have to couch the exchange in terms he’ll understand. So that he can do what’s right while justifying it to himself. Otherwise he’ll have to face the limitations of his world view, and not even two Horizon’s are enough to make him do that.”

“A contract, then.” Harald pushed his weariness aside. “Fine. Any suggestions? What would appeal to him?”

Nessa considered. “Honestly? Just repeat what you said in legalese. An expectation that he assist you in raids when they don’t conflict with Countess Sonora’s, requirements that he point out when you’re turning into a demonic monster, stipulations that he’s to remain a free agent while nurturing the… the health of our little group and its power growth and emotional… I don’t know. Emotional well being? Ahead of any other consideration that again doesn’t conflict with his prior commitments.”

Harald nodded, but a sense of melancholy was stealing into his heart. He’d always thought Vic a bright and garrulous companion, irascible and impossible to wound, a roguish wit who could laugh at any challenge.

“I know so little about people,” he said. “I keep thinking I’m doing the right thing, and messing everything up.”

“That’s life, Harry-boy.” Nessa smiled wearily. “By the time you’ve got it all figured out, you’ll be dead. But hey. At least you’re trying.”

“And there’s something to what Vic said.” Sam crossed her arms tightly, the fabric of her emerald tunic tightening across her shoulders. “You just can’t give away that much wealth and claim there are no strings attached. Life doesn’t work that way.”

“I wish it did,” said Harald, fighting the urge to feel sorry for himself.

“But it doesn’t. I’m fighting to forge a sense of identity independent of the Darrowdelves, and now you’re trying to give me more wealth than I could earn in a lifetime. After these three days I’ve spent interrogating my soul, I don’t even know how to take that.”

“Then don’t.” Harald threw up his arms. “Fine. I’ll absorb all the scales, sell off the Artifacts and absorb those scales as well, and six months from now be this monstrous creature of consummate evil that nobody recognizes.”

“Grow up, darling,” said Nessa, unimpressed.

“You want the four of us to be friends, yes?” Sam kept her tone level. “You want us to be equals? Giving that kind of wealth works against that desire. It makes us feel… indebted, obligated, lesser for needing your largesse. I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s true. If your goal is to create a genuine group of equals, you need to make sure the foundation is healthy and strong.”

“For the record,” said Nessa with a wry smile, “I’m more than happy to take the scales and Artifact without protest.”

“Yes, well.” Sam considered Nessa, expression grave. “You wouldn’t if you took yourself seriously.”

“Excuse me?” asked Nessa, voice dangerously polite.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Sam pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Look. The point is this: we just need to find a way to make this work for the four of us. I want this to work, I want to be Harald’s friend, but I just need to find a way that feels right given our history and the person I want to become.”

“Well.” Harald exhaled. “Perhaps Vic has the right of it. Perhaps wealth can’t just be given away without some form of quid pro quo. What if…” He trailed off, thinking. “What if I form our own official raiding crew? Like I tried to do with Yeoric and his assholes? We acquire our own charter, our own dungeon writ, and I deed the Artifacts to the company, which then loans them to each of us for as long as we’re in good standing with the crew, or whatever?”

“That sounds like a step in the right direction,” agreed Sam.

“And the scales?” asked Nessa.

“A salary? We can create a fund from which we each derive monthly payment?” Harald felt like he was barely keeping his head above the waves. “With a sign-up bonus sufficient to advance each of us to the next Throne?”

“That… that could work,” allowed Nessa. “And it has several knock-on benefits. We could register the crew with the Mining Consortium for lowered taxation rates, could acquire certain raiding goods at a discount with the major vendors…”

“Yeah?” Harald wanted to laugh. “I’d no idea.”

“Vic probably knows all the benefits. But… yes. I think I prefer this, too.” Nessa considered. “This way, if we ever decide to part, there’s an established protocol for breaking up without legal problems. And… yes. It feels more… fair? That’s not the word.”

“There’s more dignity to it,” said Sam. “We’re being treated like professionals, not hangers-on.”

“Fine.” Harald raised his palms. “If that’s what it takes, then that’s how we’ll do it. Nessa, you want to tell Vic? Might help him unruffle his feathers.”

“Sure,” she said, and climbed the stairs.

They stood in silence for a moment, just Sam and Harald. His pulse was racing, his emotions roiling, and he was trying not to feel angry, to recast everything that had happened into a narrative of ingratitude and unnecessarily complicated friends.

“I know you were trying to do something noble,” said Sam softly.

“Yeah. Well.”

“And I know you’re upset. Obviously. You made an incredible offer, and got… not told off, but… criticized? That’s how it must feel, I’m guessing.”

“It’s fine.” He drew himself up. “I’m learning.”

“I don’t know.” Her expression was soft, concerned. “I’ll only say this because of what I read in your father’s letter, and what you’ve said you want from our friendship. Intentions aren’t enough. They’re important, but… for a friendship to really work, it’s not enough to just decide what’s going to happen. Your friends get to tell you how they feel, and what they need. If you can’t listen to them, then you’re saying that your intentions matter more than their needs.”

Harald bit back the urge to say something cutting. Instead he closed his eyes, held his breath, and really forced himself to listen.

“We’re not… we’re none of us… I don’t know, ‘healthy’ people. Vic, Nessa, myself? We’ve had… we’ve been forced to survive, to learn harsh lessons. But we’re here.” Sam leaned forward and touched his elbow. “We’re here, because… at the end of the day, and despite how fucked up we are? We all recognize that this is… that you’re… I don’t know how to say it. We just… we also want this to work. But we’ve got our instincts. We can sense what will allow this flourish, and what will poison the roots. And just accepting your generosity, even if it’s offered with a beautiful and open heart, that doesn’t work for us. For a variety of reasons.”

Harald opened his eyes, listened.

Sam’s expression was almost beseeching. “Don’t think we’re being ungrateful. The three of us, we’ve never had any power. Not really, not like you. That’s nobody’s fault, including not being yours. But you don’t see the world we do, because you haven’t had to navigate it in very specific ways just to survive. So what to you feels obvious and good to us feels… threatening, dangerous, maybe even…” She trailed off, struggling.

“Like it would poison the roots,” said Harald softly.

“Yes.” She nodded sharply. “And Vic and I don’t want that to happen.”

“Nessa does?”

“Nessa…” Sam considered. “She doesn’t, which is why she’s here, but she’s still wrestling with, well. Big things of her own. And I think she’ll always be open to inviting corruption into her relationships. That affirms her world view, I guess.”

Harald frowned. “That all relationships are corrupt?”

“I think so.” Sam sighed. “Just as Vic can’t accept unconditional gestures of friendship, I don’t think Nessa wants to believe that real, genuine friendships can exist, either. Because if they could, maybe on some level that would threaten her past, or her understanding of previous betrayals.”

Harald exhaled again. “What a fucked-up world.”

“You’ve no idea.”

For a moment they just stood there, but slowly Harald felt his anger, his resentment, begin to fade away.

“All right. I think I understand. I’m still… it still stung to have my offer interpreted that way, but you’re right. Intentions aren’t enough. And I am serious about our being equals, which means… I guess I have to start looking into acquiring a new writ and drawing up the charter for our raiding crew.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“And you?” Harald tried to keep his tone casual. “How do you want to handle… well, everything?”

“I’ve rented a small place above an inn.” Her smile was shy, proud. “I’ll be staying there from now on. And… I won’t be doing any of the chores here anymore, either, unless the fancy strikes me to cook on occasion.”

“Totally fair,” said Harald quickly.

“But I still want to train. So you’ll be seeing a lot of me.”

“Good.” Harald smiled. “That’s… that’s great. Fantastic.”

She returned his smile, though hers was a little tremulous, and then she gave a curt nod and turned to the stairs. “Shall we? I wanted to collect my things from my room today, take them back to my new place. Maybe we can resume training tomorrow?”

“Sure. Of course. The day after that’s the auction. Would you like to come?”

“To the Platinum Rose?” Sam paused, foot on the first step. “I’m not sure I’d enjoy that just yet. But thank you for offering.”

“Of course, no worries. It’s bound to be a lot. Though it’s a pity, seeing as Countess Sonora’s going to be present. I’d like us all to be introduced to her together. As a crew. Or a sub-crew to her own. At some point.”

“At some point, yes.” Sam’s smile was bright. “We’ll make it happen when the time is right.”

“Good.” Harald felt his spirits begin to rise. “Excellent.”

And together they left the small chamber and all its treasures behind.

*

Most of the books in his father’s library had been carted away by Master Ling, but Harald had declared the office out of bounds, and thus his father’s ledgers and reference tomes were still available for research purposes.

He spent the next few hours reading copies of old charters, including his father’s original write-up for his first raiding crew, and from these disparate sources cobbled together his own version.

It took over an hour to transcribe and filled three sheets of fresh parchment. The Preamble took the longest for him to write; it’s where the purpose of the crew was stated, its identity affirmed, and any specific goals set forth, along with shared values and principles guiding its members. After several drafts, Harald went with:

"We, the undersigned, hereby establish this charter to unite under a common banner with the purpose of mutual Ascension in power and prowess. Our quest, centered on the salvaging of scales from the depths of the dungeon, is driven by a shared conviction to push ourselves and each other to the utmost limits of our capabilities. In pursuit of this end, we pledge to uphold the principles of relentless growth, unwavering support, and an unbreakable bond that places the well-being and advancement of our fellows above our own. Together, as a crew bound by these ideals, we embark on this perilous journey, committed to rising as one, where the success of each is the triumph of all."

He reread it several times, and felt quite proud.

From there he outlined the first article, which focused on eligibility and recruitment of members, roles and responsibilities, as well as the minimalist induction process. A simple non-magical oath would serve.

The second article dealt with official leadership and structure. Traditionally crews were led by the most experienced member, which would make Nessa their leader, but for their crew Harald decided to nominate Nessa as delve captain for when they were in the dungeon proper, and Sam for the crew leader for all other organizational and financial matters, pending approval of the whole crew by vote.

The third article dealt with financial arrangements. Harald stipulated the creation of a crew fund which could be used for collective expenses, equipment repair, and other needs, along with a general raid tithe of 20% to keep it replenished once it fell below a certain amount, which for now he left blank. They could hash that out together.

He would, he decided, pay off Countess Sonora first. Her interest rate was punishing, and he was sure the others wouldn’t object.

He spent a long while writing the salary and dividends clause, using his father’s own charter as a model for how salaries were determined based on class level and the division of Artifacts. There would be a one-time sign-up bonus of a single Horizon’s Whisper, a monthly stipend of one Aurora Veil to all members, and another Veil paid as a ‘delve bonus’ for every level each member possessed when they entered a dungeon. That meant that Nessa would be earning 4,000 scales with each dive, while he and Sam would get only 1,000 for now.

That felt right.

He appended an emergency clause in case the crew fund dipped below a certain level, where crew members were expected to sacrifice their delve bonus.

Humming, he moved onto the fourth clause, which dealt with conduct and discipline. This he simply copied from his father’s charter, outlining both a code of conduct, the mechanism for dispute resolution, and possible repercussions for violating the articles or other misbehavior.

Harald sat back and chewed on the stylus as he considered the code. He’d want to amend it to reflect the nature of the Preamble, but for now it would serve.

The fifth article dealt with operations and safety, and covered planning and execution of raids, the loaning of crew Artifacts, responsibilities while underground, and safety protocols to ensure member safety, including emergency procedures in case of serious injury or death. This again he simply copied from his father’s charter.

The final clause dealt with processes for amendments, ensuring the charter remained a living document that reflected any changed circumstances, and sunset clauses for conditions under which the crew could be dissolved, how to do so, and how to distribute remaining assets.

When he was done, Harald shook out his hand, stretched his aching fingers, and felt a twinge of sympathy for his own father’s complaints at the end of his four-page letter.

Gathering the document, he blew on the last of the ink to dry it, then headed downstairs.

His friends had wanted to formalize matters, make everything official, and set forth terms in black and white?

Harald grinned, inordinately pleased with himself.

Well, that was just what they were going to get.

Whistling, he crossed the entrance hall, imagining everyone was in the kitchen or out on the back patio, when an officious sounding knock sounded on the front door.

Harald paused.

Master Ling, returned to clarify some inventory dispute?

Curious, cautious, Harald opened the door, then stepped back in alarm.

Outside stood a woman in the colors of House Celestara. Her golden half-plate was clearly crafted by a master blacksmith with the opulence of a monarch, giving her a regal air, and was worn over a bodysuit of midnight blue. Each piece was of burnished gold, inlaid with filigree, and expertly shaped to provide both defense and a silhouette that exuded power.

A cape of purest cerulean flowed from her shoulders, thick and voluminous, though its edges were torn as if from countless battles.

But it was her golden helm that held Harald’s stare: its front was subtly contoured to her face and perforated with dozens of diamond holes. Vicious spikes edged the top, sweeping back to defend her temples, with a single central horn extending almost straight up like that of unicorn. Brutal, elegant, it rendered the woman almost inhuman in appearance. Emerging from the top was a cascade of silver-white hair, long and untamed. It fell like a river of moonlight, contrasting powerfully with her sky-blue cloak, her gleaming gold armor, her dark bodysuit.

“Sir Harald Darrowdelve?” Her voice echoed from within her helm. “I have come at the behest of Lady Celestis. We must talk.”