Viktor observed the Druidess’s party as they clashed with the skeletal soldiers.

  Actually, only two of them were engaged, the towering Easterner with the curved greatsword and the young woman wielding the long staff, while the bald, dark-skinned man and the Druidess herself just stayed back, watching.

  And honestly, those two were more than enough. After all, these skeletons were not the hulking, reinforced tomb guards that could duke it out with Sebekton in a battle of strength. No, those had been hidden away by Khenemhotep on Viktor’s orders. They were to remain a secret, only to be unleashed when the time was right—when Brynhildr and Dagnar finally took the bait and ventured into the mortuary complex.

  For now, the only foes the adventurers would face were these ordinary skeleton warriors. They were meant to be a moderate challenge for weaker parties, so when they fought a more formidable group like this, they were little more than fodder. And that was fine. It was not like he was going to lose anything of value anyway. Khenemhotep would simply reassemble the broken bones afterward, then deploy them again in the next encounter.

  The Easterner moved like a living battering ram. His massive curved sword swung with brutal force, each swing cleaving through the skeletons as if they were made of brittle twigs. Skulls exploded in clouds of white dust and fragments, ribcages crumbled beneath the weight of his relentless assault. One skeleton lunged at him with a rusted spear, but he caught the weapon mid-thrust, snapped it like a toothpick, and then hurled the undead into the stone wall with a deafening crash.

  Meanwhile, the young woman was practically dancing. She flowed like water between rocks, fluid and elegant, yet undeniably destructive. Her staff moved in a blur: a sharp snap as the steel-capped tip shattered a knee, a loud crack as it pulverized a wrist. A skeleton swung at her, and she flipped backward with effortless grace, the blade whistling through empty air where her head had been. Landing lightly, she pivoted to deliver a low, spinning strike that swept the undead off its feet, scattering its bones across the ground.

  Strange, Viktor thought. For some reason, she reminded him of Manfred.

  And sure enough, as a group of skeleton archers, who had been hiding until now, revealed themselves and loosed a volley of arrows, the woman twirled the tip of her staff, summoning a whirlwind that blasted away the projectiles. Then, with lightning speed, she closed the distance. Her staff spun, stabbed, hammered, and the archers collapsed into disjointed piles before they could nock another shot.

  Another aeromancer, huh?

  Viktor couldn’t say he was very fond of mages fighting in melee. He hadn’t liked it when Manfred did it, and he didn’t like it any better now. Still, at the very least, this woman had the sense to pick a more straightforward weapon. Her staff was simple, but its reach was long and its blows could crack skulls. Unlike the fancy, showy rapier wielded by a certain pompous fool who had the desperate need to look impressive while doing everything.

  Come to think of it, where was that mithril blade now? It had been brought to Kazyk’s workshop, obviously, just like everything else looted from the bodies of fallen adventurers. But what had happened to it afterward? Given to some gnoll, he supposed.

  By the time Brynhildr and Dagnar arrived at the ruin, the battle was already over.

  The last skeleton flew through the air and smashed into the wall, right next to Dagnar as he stepped through the threshold. He yelped like a kicked dog and went down hard, landing square on his arse. He didn’t get hit, of course, but that didn’t stop him from pulling a face like he had nearly pissed himself right there.

  “Are you alright?” asked the young woman with the twin buns, hurrying over.

  Dagnar looked up with a growl, as if he were about to bite her head off. But when he locked eyes with the girl, smiling as she bent down to check on him, he froze.

  “I... I...”

  She offered her hand. “Let me help you.”

  Dagnar stared at the outstretched hand, blinking, and gave an audible swallow. Viktor chuckled. Has this guy ever held hands with a woman before? Then, slowly, awkwardly, he reached out and let her pull him up. His whole body was stiff, and once on his feet, he immediately looked away, face flushed.

  The young woman didn’t seem to notice. “You came just in time to miss all the fun,” she said cheerfully, tapping her staff against the stone floor. “You alright? That thing didn’t hit you, did it?”

  “No, I... uh, I saw it coming,” Dagnar muttered. “I just slipped. The ground is uneven.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The woman nodded. “Right. Of course.”

  Behind her, the rest of her party had gathered near the entrance. The dark-skinned Southerner stepped forward and nodded at Brynhildr.

  “Greetings. My name is Ekon, and this is my party.”

  “I’m Brynhildr. This is my nephew, Dagnar.”

  The bald man arched an eyebrow. “Just the two of you? Entering the dungeon alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “You must be either very brave, very confident... or just plain mad,” Ekon said with a chuckle. “Not many walk into a dungeon with a party of two and expect to walk out again.”

  Brynhildr shrugged. “The monsters here aren’t much of a challenge. I heard there used to be Cyclopes on the second floor, but they’re gone now.”

  “I’ve heard the same. But now, something new has appeared. A section of the dungeon that didn’t exist before.” Ekon swept a hand out toward the archway, gesturing at the dunes outside. “And we have... this.”

  “Yes, a desert inside a dungeon.” Brynhildr’s eyes lit up again. “I can’t believe it.”

  Ekon gave a soft laugh. “I’m glad someone likes the place, but I can’t say I share your enthusiasm. I came here from the South to escape the sand and the heat, only for them to follow me even into a dungeon.” He glanced at the looming structure in the distance. “Though with the sun, the desert, and that giant stone building over there... whoever designed this place must have had a flair for the dramatic.”

  Man, you’re absolutely right.

  “And cruelty,” said the young woman with the twin buns, unbuttoning part of her collar. “Fighting in this heat is hell. You’re soaked before you even draw your weapon.”

  She murmured a barely audible incantation. A breeze stirred, threading its way through the collar of her shirt and weaving beneath her clothes. She closed her eyes, relaxing as the wind traced her form while the fabric fluttered in response. Needless to say, Dagnar stared, his cheeks radiating enough heat to rival the artificial sun overhead. And the moment her eyes reopened, he snapped away so fast he nearly twisted his neck.

  “You handled the skeletons very well,” Brynhildr said, looking toward the scattered bones across the floor.

  “Thanks!” the young woman said with a grin. “Name’s Renee, by the way. Good thing no one got hurt. I almost hit your friend by accident.” She gave Dagnar a quick wink. “Sorry about that.”

  “I... I... it’s alright. I saw it coming. Just slipped, that’s all. The ground is uneven.”

  Renee showed no reaction to the fact that the man had just repeated the exact same thing he had said before. But that only meant that she had already forgotten his earlier words, even though it was merely minutes ago.

  “This is Ba’atar,” said Ekon, gesturing at the towering Easterner, his curved greatsword now resting casually across his broad shoulders.

  “Uh,” grunted the big man, giving the newcomers a nod, no, more like a tilt of the chin.

  What a man of few words. Viktor chuckled, thinking about putting him and Azran at the same table, then having people bet on which one would break the silence first.

  “And this is...” Ekon went on.

  “I’m Mandragora,” said the woman with the tattoos, stepping forward with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Brynhildr replied, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re... a Druidess, aren’t you?”

  Oh yes, Yvonne had mentioned it: the pact between the Druidesses and the King of Lyndor. Which meant Brynhildr had every reason to be wary when one of them showed up here. Viktor could only hope it wouldn’t push the warrior woman into full-on paranoia, prompting her to flee the town immediately, dragging that deadweight of a nephew with her.

  “I am. You’ve heard of us?”

  “Yes, and I’ve also heard you’re quite elusive. Reclusive, even. Never interested in anything outside of your forest. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Druidess out adventuring.”

  Mandragora let out a soft laugh, soft as the rustling of leaves. “We don’t all live in one forest, you know. There are many Circles, scattered across the continent, in different groves and glades. Yes, most of the time we keep to ourselves, and yes, we rarely get involved with the outside world, but sometimes, we do step out. And sometimes, we expand. Send a few to a new forest and start a Circle there. And Daelin is surrounded by trees, isn’t it? It’s a little surprising that none of my sisters has ever tried to settle here before.”

  “Yes, a surprise indeed,” said Ekon.

  “It’s not, actually.” Mandragora laughed again. “Well, for all our talk about harmony with nature and staying ‘untouched by civilization,’ we still need a lot of stuff from the outside world. So we sell our potions and buy what we need. And for that business to run smoothly, having a big city nearby is damn convenient.”

  Now Viktor could see why the Druidesses had struck a deal with the King of Lyndor. It made perfect sense, really. After all, forests and cities tended not to exist next to each other. Wherever people settled, trees vanished. Felled for lumber, burned for fuel, cleared to make way for farmland. But a king had the power to change that. He could pass a decree to preserve a section of the wood, and a Circle of the Druidesses could thrive there, beyond the city’s reach, yet still close enough to trade.

  “So, you’re here to start a new Circle?” asked Brynhildr.

  “No, not yet. Daelin isn’t even a city yet, let alone a big one. But it could be in the future. And such potential is enough for some of my sisters to entertain the idea. That’s why I was sent here. To take a look around, assess the situation, and decide whether it’s actually a good idea or not.”

  Brynhildr didn’t ask anything more after that. Viktor didn’t know whether the Druidess’s answers were enough to ease her suspicion, but at the very least, her expression had softened a bit.

  “Hey,” Renee said, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her arm. Even with her little wind trick, she still looked like she was about to melt. “Do we have to stand here and talk?”

  Ekon turned to Brynhildr. “Are you two pushing on to the next ruin, or...?”

  She shook her head. “No, we’re going back.”

  “Well then,” the bald man said, clapping his hands together. “Why don’t we all head back to town together? Plenty of time to talk on the way.”

  Renee perked up instantly. “Great! Let’s get out of here. I’m so done with this stupid desert.” She turned to Dagnar, flashing him a smile. “Don’t you think the same?”

  “Well... I... I... Yes, I think the same.”

  “Let’s go then!” she called, already trotting outside.