The first light of dawn filtered faintly through the shutters, a thin, pale ribbon that stretched across the floorboards of the suite’s common room. The warmth from last night’s hearth fire had long faded, leaving the air comfortably cool, the sort of crisp morning chill that promised a good day ahead. For a few blissful seconds, the suite was quiet.
Then the door to Bhel and Perberos’s room slammed open.
Perberos trudged out like a man returning from war.
His hair, normally tied neatly back, hung loose and wild around his face. His eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, ringed with dark circles that made him look ten years older. He dragged his feet dramatically across the floor, muttering under his breath.
Josh, who had been stretching near the long couch, raised an eyebrow. “Morning?”
Perberos stopped, pointed a finger at Josh and Brett, and said with all the gravitas of someone delivering a royal proclamation: “Next time, one of you is sharing with the walking snore monster.”
From behind him, Bhel appeared in the doorway, stretching his arms high above his head and yawning loudly enough to rattle a window. “Morning! Slept great.”
Carcan, sitting cross-legged on a cushion with a cup of steaming tea, nearly choked as she tried not to laugh.
Josh bit the inside of his cheek, failing immediately. “Good rest, Bhel?”
“Aye!” the dwarf said proudly. “That bed is soft as a cloud. Too soft, honestly. Makes me relax too much.”
Perberos spun on him. “Relax too much? Bhel, you snored like a dying dragon with a chest infection. I thought the roof beams were shaking.”
“I do not snore,” Bhel said, crossing his arms indignantly.
“Mate,” Brett said from the kitchen area, where he was pouring water into a kettle, “we could hear you through the walls. You normally snore a bit when we’ve been camping, but something about that bed must have made you… worse. Maybe try to not relax quite as much?”
Carcan nodded in agreement. “At one point I genuinely thought something was tunnelling beneath the building.”
Bhel looked offended. “It’s the bed’s fault. Makes me too comfortable. Proper dwarven bedding is firm stone. Cannot snore on stone.”
Josh smirked. “Would you like us to request a slab of granite for you tonight?”
Bhel considered it for a full two seconds. “Actually, that would be lovely.”
Perberos dropped onto the couch with a dramatic groan. “I’m going to die before we even reach the dungeon. Death by sleep deprivation.”
Brett brought him a cup of hot tea, setting it on the table in front of him. “Here. Drink this. And next time maybe get a sleep draught?.”
“I tried,” Perberos said flatly. “He shook me awake every time he hit a new snore cycle.”
Bhel scoffed. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Am I?” Perberos gestured wildly. “You snore in stages, Bhel. Phases. Like a storm building. First comes the breeze. Then the rumble. Then the full thundercrack that sounds like the mountain is collapsing. You go silent for a little while, and I think it’s finally over, but no, it was just the eye of the storm, and it all comes crashing back down!”
Before the argument could continue, the kettle whistled. Brett moved back to the small cooking counter, beginning to prepare a cup of fruit tea and everyone calmed down. For a few minutes, the room was filled only with the quiet sounds of eating, the occasional sip, and contented sighs.
Then Josh glanced at Perberos. “So. How many hours did you manage?”
Perberos stared at his plate. “…about forty minutes.”
Brett winced. “Oof. Alright. You can take the middle of the formation today. We’ll keep you covered.”
“I appreciate that,” Perberos said gratefully, then cast a glare at Bhel. “Just keep him away from me tonight.”
Bhel grabbed some bread from his bag and tore off a chunk off with his teeth. “I said, not my fault.”
Carcan smiled warmly. “At least the spirits of camaraderie are alive this morning.”
Josh stretched his arms above his head. “Well… nothing wakes you up like watching two teammates argue before breakfast.”
But despite the banter, despite the teasing, despite the exhaustion and complaints, there was a warmth to the morning. They were a team. And they were about to face a dungeon together. But for now, the suite was bright with laughter, the scent of breakfast, and the growing determination of adventurers readying themselves for the challenges ahead.
—-
The morning sun spilled across the dining hall’s long wooden tables, painting everything in warm gold and softening the edges of the previous day’s exhaustion. The smell hit first, the kind of smell that made a person feel like the world wasn’t so dangerous after all. Fresh bread, sizzling meats, brewed herbs, and something sweet none of them could quite identify drifted beneath their noses.
Josh inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. “If I die in that dungeon today, tell the gods I want this waiting for me on the other side.”
Brett, already halfway through a plate piled with eggs and crisped boar strips, snorted. “You’re not dying. Not before you pay me that money back.”
“I’d rather die.” Josh sat down heavily. His muscles protested, and he winced. “Actually, I might.”
Carcan arrived with a steaming bowl of porridge, garnished with fruits and chopped nuts. She ate with the calm of a monk who had achieved inner peace or was pretending to. “If you had stretched after yesterday, you wouldn’t be sore.”
Josh glared at her as though stretching itself was a personal insult.
Bhel slammed his tray down next to them, the wood groaning under the weight. A mountain of smoked meats, potatoes, and gravy nearly overflowed from the plate. “Breakfast!” he declared triumphantly. Then, frowning at the others: “Why’re your plates so empty?”
“Some of us need to be able to move after eating,” Brett muttered.
“Aye,” Bhel replied through a mouthful. “An’ some o’ us need fuel to save your scrawny hides.” He raised a greasy strip in a mock toast.
Perberos arrived last, sliding silently into a seat with only a small plate of dried fruits and a single hardboiled egg. Josh blinked. “Is that… it? We’re fighting monsters soon, you know.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Perberos shrugged, unbothered. “Light stomach. Faster reflexes.” He popped a berry into his mouth. “Besides, one of us must remain graceful.”
Bhel barked out a laugh so sudden he nearly choked. “Graceful? Yea alright I’ll give ya that. You do move pretty.”
Perberos rolled his eyes as the table laughed at his expense.
For a few long minutes, the table was filled only with contented eating, the scrape of spoons, the occasional clatter of metal plates, and the comforting murmur of the dining hall around them. Other adventurers shared stories, some triumphant, some dramatic exaggerations, some whispered warnings but the warmth of the hall made everything feel possible.
Josh leaned back and looked at his friends. “You know… it’s weird.Today we’re actually going into a dungeon. A real dungeon. Not the baby goblin one, but a real, established dungeon. We’re not rushing to hold back a horde or anything, it’s not really life or death… unless we mess up that is.”
Brett nudged his shoulder. “Feels surreal, yeah. But exciting too.”
Carcan folded her hands. “Fear and excitement often share a root. One tells us to flee. The other tells us to move forward.”
“Leave it to Carcan to turn breakfast into therapy.” Josh grinned.
“I am simply saying,” Carcan continued as if lecturing a class, “that whatever you feel, fear, hope, doubt, all of it is part of growing into the adventurers we’ve chosen to become.”
Bhel raised his fork. “I choose to become the kind of adventurer who eats two breakfasts.”
Josh nodded. “That does sound like the ideal path.”
Perberos shook his head, though his expression softened. “Eat what you like. But be ready. The dungeon won’t care how many sausages you inhaled.”
After breakfast, they made their way to the small armoury behind the inn. Fresh linen wraps, potion vials, spare whetstones, and leather straps filled the supply shelves, a member of staff stood near by, offering his services to those who needed their weapons sharpened or gear repaired.
Josh took time adjusting his shield, checking every strap twice. Brett sorted his potions pouch with meticulous care, whispering the names of each vial as he passed it between his fingers. Carcan selected bandages and polished talismans. Perberos re-wrapped his bow grip, making sure it was flawless. Bhel simply tested the weight of his axe, giving it a few lazy practice swings.
“Remember,” Perberos said while tightening his bracers, “dungeons can change. What the guild knows may not be the whole truth.”
“That’s comforting,” Brett deadpanned.
Josh tapped the rim of his shield. “Then we adapt. Stay together. Communicate. No running off alone.”
Bhel raised a brow. “Was that directed at me?”
“Yes,” the rest of the group answered in unison.
Carcan stepped up to them, her hands glowing faintly with warm light. “A blessing for the path ahead,” she murmured.
The glow drifted outward, brushing over armour, skin, and steel. A soft pulse settled in each of their chests, courage, or something like it.
Josh exhaled slowly. “Alright… let’s go.”
The group exchanged nods, brief but full of meaning and stepped out of the armoury into the bright morning.
The town built around the Warren wasn’t large, yet it carried the unmistakable heartbeat of a place shaped by danger, opportunity, and the constant churn of adventurers. As the party stepped out of the yard and into the open air, a breeze rolled across the streets, carrying the layered scents of woodsmoke, hot iron, simmering stew, and the faint mineral tang of dungeon mana.
Josh inhaled deeply. “Smells… surprisingly normal. I expected sulfur or something.”
“Some towns do smell like that,” Brett said thoughtfully. “Depends on the dungeon. At least this one doesn’t have that ‘impending doom’ aroma.”
Carcan smiled. “It is because the Warren is old, stable, and carefully cultivated. A well managed dungeon leaves a clean aura.”
The settlement itself was tucked within a solid brick enclosure, the walls worn smooth by the wind but reinforced with steel beams and sharpened stakes. Guards patrolled the top with crossbows in hand, scanning the horizon in practiced, unhurried sweeps.
Inside, the streets were alive. Merchants hawked wares beneath bright awnings, their shouts blending with the rhythmic clang of blacksmiths at work. Young adventurers, some nervous, some cocky, rushed between shops with loose bags and half-buckled armour.
Bhel squinted at a stall where glinting blue crystals rested in neat rows. “Mana shards. Bigger than the ones back at the goblin dungeon.”
“Everything’s cleaner,” Perberos murmured, his eyes tracking the layout of streets, the way footpaths curved back toward the dungeon’s direction. “Everything’s prepared.”
It was true. The town wasn’t chaotic like the goblin dungeon outskirts. This place felt like it had been built around an economy that understood the dungeon, embraced it, and thrived because of it.
Wooden posts bore painted signs directing adventurers to a number of different landmarks - Potioners’ Row, The Scriveners’ Archive, Beast-Tamer’s Yards, The Breakstone Forge, The Grinning Wyrmling Inn and finally, The Warren Gate Plaza, where the portal stood.
Josh slowed as they walked. “Feels like it must have taken years to set all this up.”
“Tried and true,” Carcan replied proudly. “Dungeon towns form only when a dungeon is stable, reliable, and profitable. This place proves it.”
They explored deliberately, curiosity pulling them from one shop to the next.
At a forge, a dwarf with a beard braided into knots hammered glowing steel while sparks danced like fireflies. Brett leaned forward, mesmerised. “That’s beautiful work.”
The smith didn’t look up. “Aye, and expensive. You break it, you buy it.”
At a potion shop, glass vials lined the walls like colourful soldiers, reds, blues, greens, even shimmering silver liquids that sloshed like contained moonlight.
Bhel held up a bottle. “This one says ‘Emergency Lung Refresher’. What does that mean?”
“Probably for smoke inhalation,” Brett guessed.
“Or drowning.” Josh blinked. “Wait, drowning?”
The shopkeeper smiled sweetly, whilst removing the vial from Bhel’s hand. “We do not recommend testing that one indoors.”
Further down, they passed a stall run by a wrinkled elf selling dungeon “souvenirs”, tiny carved kobold figurines, polished monster teeth, silver-threaded bookmarks.
“These are… oddly cute,” Carcan said, holding up a carved kobold holding a miniature spear.
“Do not get attached,” Perberos warned.
They followed the town’s central path until it widened into a circular plaza paved with pale stone. Here the noise softened, replaced by a faint hum, light, airy, and unmistakably magical.
The portal stood at its centre.
It wasn’t like the goblin dungeon portal, which had pulsed with oppressive mana and a murky blue shimmer. This one resembled a curtain of liquid sky, rippling slow and calm. Blue, nearly white at the centre, deepening to turquoise at the edges, with flecks of gold drifting like dust caught in sunlight.
Guards flanked it, dressed in polished gear bearing the crest of the guild. They greeted adventurers, checked cards, and managed a steady flow of people arriving or leaving.
Josh stepped closer, breath catching. “It’s… beautiful.”
“It’s meant to be inviting,” Carcan said quietly. “A well-maintained dungeon produces stable mana. Stable mana produces calm portals.”
Bhel scratched his beard. “Still makes my stomach twist.”
“Oh, that part’s unavoidable,” Brett replied.
As they approached the side to get a better look, whilst not impeding the flow of adventurers accessing the portal. One guard gave them a friendly nod. “Iron Rank, yes? First time here?”
“First time,” Josh confirmed.
“Then welcome. Take your time. Don’t rush in, or the first floor. And if anything feels wrong…” The guard met Josh’s eyes seriously. “…turn back.”
Perberos inclined his head. “Understood.”
They lingered a few minutes longer, watching adventurers step through the portal, some eager, some nervous, some laughing as though they’d done this a thousand times.
Children sat on a stone bench nearby, watching with big eyes as their parents checked gear and tightened straps.
Merchants set up small stands offering last-minute supplies, rope, flints, monster-repelling incense, sharpened stakes. A healer’s chapel stood close enough that injured parties could stagger directly out of the portal and collapse onto sanctified stone.
Josh exhaled slowly. “This town… lives with the dungeon.”
“It does more than that,” Carcan said. “It thrives because of it.”
Perberos crossed his arms. “And so will we. Provided we don’t do anything foolish.”
Bhel cracked a grin. “I only do heroic foolishness.”
Josh groaned. “Which is still foolishness.”
Brett adjusted his pack. “Right, come on. Let’s see what this floor has for us.”
The group stepped toward the portal together. The golden flecks shimmered in greeting. The ripple of sky-blue mana shifted like a slow breath. And as they crossed the threshold, the peaceful hum of the town vanished, consumed by the familiar lurching sensation.
