Once more seated at an isolated booth in the corner of the Guild Hall common room, we had our pile of coins splayed out on the table. Above us, carved into the shape of a turtle, small heading poking out of its shell, was a piece of mesa rock. It wasn’t a good idea to advertise money, or so Maggie and Ellen had said, but here in the Guild Hall we were usually safe to do so.

  “I’m still new to your currency. How long could we live off what we just got?” I asked.

  “Depends. If you’re a [Laborer] living alone off the bare minimum, you could probably survive on two silver a month.” Nora answered.

  “So, ten silver to a gold, and we’ve got twenty-four gold and twenty-four silver if we include the stuff we found at the warehouse.” I did the math quickly in my head and had to redo the equation again once I got the number, my jaw slowly opening as I repeated the question in my head.

  “We just made enough money to live off for more than a decade? In one night?” I asked, more than a little stunned.

  “Crazy right? Why do you think I became an adventurer?” Nora asked with a smile.

  ~~~***~~~

  The [Hall Mistress’] office was well decorated. Paintings of Dustreach and what I assumed was famous local architecture artfully placed around the space to lead your eyes on a journey until they rested on the large landscape of the palace above her head.

  The woman herself was not at all what I’d expected from a Guild elite. Pudgy and short, a ponytail held up hair that just barely avoided being greasy. She looked to me more like an [Innkeeper] or [Cook] rather than a [Hall Mistress] for the Guild. Unlike other admin positions, [Hall Masters and Mistresses] spent at least a decade as master adventurers before they could even apply for one of the position’s several assistants and aides.

  “Margret, what was so important you had to see me right now?” The woman asked. Her voice was smooth and rich, like sleek velvet.

  Maggie shared a glance with Nora before she spoke. Earlier, while we waited to be seen in the hallway, the pair planned extensively on how they were going to present the discovery. We needed Maggie’s connections in order to be taken seriously so she would have to present it, but the negotiating would shift to Nora once the [Hall Mistress] believed the tunnel was real.

  “Recently, while out on a bounty, my party discovered something. Something I think the Guild would be very interested in buying.” The [Hall Mistress] rolled her eyes, but Maggie took it in stride and continued.

  “While looting the building, they discovered a small tunnel. After some exploration, we found it led into a large cavern.”

  That got the [Hall Mistress’] attention. She sat up in her chair, stomach pressed against the fine wood of her desk, silk chainse stressed to contain her.

  “You can’t possibly mean what you’re implying?” She said, as if Maggie was some child who might play pranks on her.

  “I do. We have every reason to believe that what we’ve found is another entrance to the Under Tunnels.”

  “You swear this? On Erhard’s mercy?”

  God of Adventure, Glory, and Combat. Founder and patron of the Adventurer’s Guild, husband to Mera. A prayer in his name headed every contract, turning every completed contract into a minor act of worship to him.

  “I do. I swear on Erhard that what I’ve said here is true to the best of my abilities and knowledge.” Maggie intoned; her usual eager mirth gone.

  The [Hall Mistress] said nothing and leant back in her chair, eyes towards the ceiling as if waiting for Erhard himself to enter the room and strike Maggie down for untruth in his name. When no such thing happened, she leaned forward and placed her elbows on the desk, hands cupped against her cheeks.

  “I take it you’re here to sell it then?” She asked.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “We are.” Nora answered, taking a slight nudge to her side as her queue to speak.

  “And who are you?” The woman asked, not unkindly, but impatient.

  Nora straightened in her chair and puffed her chest out a little, an almost courtly posture.

  “My name is Nora, [Mage] and face to the party that discovered the entrance into the Under Tunnels.”

  Nora hesitated for the briefest moment before she said ‘party’. It was quick but also clear she’d searched for a party name and stumbled when she hadn’t found one.

  “No name?” The woman asked, amusement slipping into her impatience.

  “No name.” Nora confirmed with an almost rueful look.

  The woman looked at Maggie, who gave a slight shrug in response.

  The [Hall Mistress] took a deep breath and, with a new air of formality, spoke.

  “By my power as [Hall Mistress] of Dustreach, I declare that the Adventurer’s Guild officially recognizes you claim over the entrance by Erhard’s laws of conquest. What do you want for it?”

  ~~~***~~~

  I shut the door to the [Hall Mistress’] office behind us. The door was absolutely silent as it closed. Runes of some kind flashed along the doorframe as it connected with the door itself. We’d gotten everything we wanted out of the woman alongside a hefty amount of gold. Yet, watching the glances and looks she and Maggie shared told me we could have gotten a lot more if we’d come at her with higher demands.

  I walked behind Nora and Maggie. The older of the pair had a proud hand on Nora’s shoulder and extolled on how good of an impression she’d made on the woman. Oddly, it was Maggie’s praises that forced me to realise that the lowballing had been part of the price, integral to us gaining connection with the [Hall Mistress] and higher ups.

  If I could figure out we’d lowballed her, then she surely knew and would pass news of our ‘generosity’ up the chain. Even with a deliberate pay cut, we came out of the deal with a hundred and twenty-five gold, one percent profit from the tunnel for each of us, free access to the Cult and all our families. Plus, all the trainers we’d asked for.

  The trainers were the most onerous part according to the [Hall Mistress] and she’d fought us on it for a couple of minutes until Nora suggested we’d be fine with selling it to someone else, at which point she quieted and agreed to have the trainers meet us in Woodsedge. According to her, the earliest she’d be able to get all the trainers together would be in six months, but she’s send [Messengers] to Woodsedge to coordinate.

  All that remained was to show her the warehouse and entrance, but Maggie had said she’d take care of it at dawn tomorrow.

  When we got back to the common room, Ellen and Mika were still in the booth, empty plates in front of them. At some point Mika had moved and the pair now sat together on one bench. Nether of them spoke or did much of anything and instead they sat content to nurse a mug of ale in one another’s company.

  We briefly caught them up and Maggie left the conversation to the post-action overview we’d do tomorrow. Afterwards she had us collect our things and shepherded us back to the inn where we’d booked our rooms.

  “Maggie?” I asked, leaning out of the doorframe to my room. “Would you mind going over some skills with me tomorrow? I want advice on my choices.”

  Maggie gave me a gentle smile in return.

  “Of course.”

  Taking a seat on the floor beside my bed, I began removing my armor. I’d fallen asleep with it on last night in the warehouse. As I peeled back layer after layer of metal and cloth, sweat, blood, and various bits of dried gore flaked off my coated skin. It was only now, safe and able to rest, did I realise how dirty I was.

  A groan escaped my lips as I forced myself up off the comfort of the floor and moved to the basin on top of the dresser. It was nothing more than a small bowl with a water condensation rune series that collected water throughout the day and deposited it in the bowl. Though a clean white towel sat next to it.

  With long gentle strokes of the dampened cloth, I scrubbed the dirt from myself, the once clear water a rust-brown red. I tried to get myself as clean as possible, but there wasn’t enough clean water to get everything. When I laid down in bed, I was still dirty, but a far cry better than I had been when I walked into the room.

  ~~~***~~~

  I opened my eyes to a frozen landscape of towering pines, howling winds, and ice-covered rivers. Seated in front of me in a meditative position was Iona. Her blackened ice-charred hand rested over her heart, her healthy one rested calmly on the metal boss of her own shield, propped up against her bent knees. She said nothing for a moment and just breathed, truly absorbed the crisp winter air, before she opened her eyes to reveal crystals of brilliant purple and blue.

  “I had hoped to project Twin Oak.” She said casually. Her voice was a rich, warm thing. Like the strumming of a guitar or mandolin.

  That wasn’t a question, so I didn’t speak and instead went into a deep bow, chest parallel to the ground.

  “Enough of that Bran. I didn’t call you here for a lesson.” She said as she stood and enveloped me in a hug.

  Her touch was the warmth of frostbite, a hearth in a lonely cabin, a fire in a sheltered alcove, a hot spring amidst a blizzard. I felt myself relax as she hugged me in ways I could with so few people. Iona was one of the few I’d ever met to be taller than me and she pressed my head into the crook of her shoulder, her own cheek on the back of my head.

  “You did well, little brother.” She whispered and squeezed slightly. She pushed me back to arm’s length and gave me a once over, eyes focused on my leg.

  With a sudden gust, the wind within the copse picked up and rampaged; bare branches clattered together and snapped together like the clatter of practice swords, ancient evergreens and bare old growths groaned as the wind threatened to topple them.

  “Peace, elder sister, it is just a scar. What is one more on the mound?” I asked in the High Chant, the only language she knew.

  Iona never learnt the Low Chant, as it was a language meant for mortals, a concession made by the Grace Mother.

  That wasn’t the full truth. Ylena herself had confessed to me that she invented the High Chant when she was still young and uneducated in the study of languages, and as such, it had gaps. When I was younger, I’d often hear Ylena complain to my mom that if she’d been more knowledgeable, we would have no need of the Low Chant.

  Of course, the High Chant had expanded and changed as time passed, even adopting some words from the Low Chant; yet that could not change its place in the Cult’s culture. Already the Low Chant was considered the language of the people and the High Chant the language of the Divine, meant for ritual and prayer.

  “It is not often my touch fails Bran.” Iona continued, genuine hurt in her voice. “I am sorry I could not shield you from your pain.”

  Aside from my mom, Iona was the most affected by my state after I was returned. If Ylena was like a grandmother to me as a child, then Iona had always been my older sister. The Grace Mother’s other daughters had always been ambivalent to me, but Iona took me under her wing the moment I was born. So much so that when the martial style she created was found to ill fit my stature, she modified it and created an entirely new one for me.

  When the Grace Mother finally heard my pleas, it was Iona who rescued me, Iona who took me home.

  “You have nothing to apologize for.” I said and took her back into a hug. “I have grown sloppy in my excitement to see the world. I should have checked that door as we passed. The [Berserker] should never have taken me by surprise. The Decay was my due, but I have been Renewed.”