“What do you think we’ll be fighting in the dungeon?” Andy asked.

  Andy, Patesh, and Quinn were headed up through the northern outskirts, fully dressed and equipped for combat.

  “My father said that Wizards like to keep giant spiders in their dungeons,” Patesh said. “But I don’t know if that’s true of every single Wizard…”

  “Well, the job posting mentions mobs and mob-spawners,” Quinn said. “And I’ve heard of silver dungeon systems before. They can spawn creatures using magic.”

  “Have you ever been in one before?” Patesh asked.

  “No,” Quinn said. “Not personally. But I’ve heard stories. In some of the silver dungeons, there are these, like, portals… and things will just pop right out of them and start running around, looking for adventurers to kill.”

  “What kind of things?” Andy asked.

  “Well, like Patesh mentioned, I’ve heard about giant spiders. I’ve also heard about skeletons, undead, and weirds.”

  “Weirds?” Andy asked.

  “Yeah, like these misshapen mutant creatures, none of them are exactly alike. Some have, like, mouths with razor sharp teeth where their eyes should be, some have, like, three legs. Some crawl around like centipedes.”

  “Ever seen one?” Patesh asked. “Or is this just another story.”

  “It’s a story I’ve heard,” Quinn said. “But that doesn’t mean it's not true.”

  “The only time I’ve ever heard about weirds were when an adult wanted to force us to behave as children,” Patesh said. “They’d always tell us a weird would crawl out from under the bed and gobble us up if we weren’t good.”

  “That’s a cruel thing to tell a child,” Quinn said.

  “Well, it worked. Usually, at least,” Patesh said. “I don’t think they’re real. I think they’re just a made-up myth.”

  “I hope so,” Quinn said. “But you never know with these wizarding types. They find the strangest creatures. And when they can’t find them, sometimes they create them. That’s what my brother always told me at least.”

  Patesh scoffed.

  “What?” Andy asked. “Did he say something wrong?”

  “All of Quinn’s knowledge is second-hand,” Patesh said. “I wouldn’t believe anything he says.”

  Quinn just shrugged. “You don’t have to believe me, I guess. We’ll fight what we fight.”

  They made their way through the thinning northern outskirts. Shops turned to residences, residences turned to villages, and villages turned to the occasional roadside stand.

  “There,” Andy said, pointing to a sign that marked a trail. “Let’s check that marker.”

  They drew closer and Andy examined the sign. It simply had a carving of a tower and an arrow pointing down the narrow dirt path. Several sets of initials were crudely carved into the side of the sign, as well as a warning: WIZARDS EAT PEPLE.

  Andy chuckled at the misspelled graffito. Perhaps a week ago, it would have given him pause, but as he had learned during his time here, people were just as silly here as they were back home. They were prone to exaggeration, error, and misjudgement.

  “This is it,” Quinn said, checking the map to see the trail breaking off from the main road.

  “Well, onward,” said Andy.

  The landscape became a bit more wooded. They travelled in and out of pleasant forest canopies populated by birch and oak. Chipmunks, squirrels, and the occasional groundhog scurried out of their way when they’d come around a corner.

  Even though it was a minor trail, it showed evidence of major use. Boot marks stamped the dry dirt road beside hoofprints and shallow rivets from wagon wheels.

  “Seems busy,” Quinn said.

  “Well, when I went to the outfitter yesterday, he said half of his regulars are on this job,” And said. “Seems like there are a lot of people travelling to the tower. Perhaps it's an unusual amount of traffic for this road.”

  “Seems likely,” said Patesh.

  They walked for another half hour through the pleasant woods when they crested a hill. In the near distance, a giant tower stood tall, stretching far above the horizon. It was ornate, like a great gothic cathedral, and wider at the base. The tower was capped with a steeply sloped circular roof, beset with red shingles.

  “The tower of the Obscure Wizard,” Quinn said. “I never even knew this was here.”

  “I suppose that’s because it’s obscure,” Andy said jokingly.

  As they made their way to the tower, they passed by a group of adventurers reclining by the side of the road, reading large, purple parchments while they ate. Not long after, another group on the opposite side of the road was doing the same. Then another.

  The further they went, the denser the population of adventurers studying purple parchments.

  A young lad with an intensely freckled face, probably in his late teens, twenty at most, stepped in the middle of the road, obviously in an attempt to get their attention. He wore a long, black coat and a hat with a feather in it. His outfit gave the impression of importance, but upon closer inspection, his clothes were worn and tattered, as if he had dug these garments from the refuse piles of nobles. He had a mischievous grin.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Hello, good travelers!” the boy said with enthusiasm. “You must be hungry. Would you like some smoked fish? I can make you a good deal on it!” He produced a small platter of fish filets, all smoked and salted.

  “No, thank you,” Patesh said. “We have our own rations.”

  “Ah, that’s too bad,” the boy said, bowing slightly. “Perhaps I can interest you in some whisky to help you rest easy?” he said, pointing toward a large flask hanging from his hip. “One silver piece per pour, as fine as any liquor you’d find in the city.”

  “Thanks,” Andy said. “But we need to get to our job.”

  “Of course,” the boy said, bowing slightly and moving out of the way.

  Andy looked over his shoulder as they continued down the road. The lad went from adventurer to adventurer, using the same sales pitch with each. From what Andy could tell, the enterprising young man didn’t seem to be having much luck.

  “Local fishermen,” Patesh said with disdain. “Never missing an opportunity to push their product into the faces of adventurers and nobility.”

  “Do you have something against smoked fish?” Quinn asked.

  “No, but I have something against being accosted on the highway by wannabe merchants who are clearly of the lower class,” Patesh said.

  “Relax,” said Andy. “The kid offered us some fish and whisky, we said no, and we moved on. It’s not the end of the world.”

  Patesh huffed, and the group continued down the road.

  Finally, they came to a large tent that had been erected in front of the tower. A dense crowd surrounded the tent. Adventurers of all species and classes huddled in their groups, each examining large, purple parchments.

  What’s with the purple parchment? Andy thought.

  Under the tent, there was a table where several attendants, two young women and a young man, sat behind a desk filled with papers.

  “Do we… just… talk to them?” Quinn asked.

  “I think so,” said Patesh.

  “I’ll handle it,” said Andy. He stepped forward.

  “Hi,” said one of the young women. She had pale skin, long, jet-black hair, and wore a deep green cloak and thick glasses. “Are you responding to the job posting?”

  “Yes,” said Andy.

  “And have you registered ahead of time?” the woman asked.

  “I believe so,” Andy said. “We’re from the Firebrand Gym.”

  “Okay,” she said, dragging her pen down a several-sheets-of-paper-long list until she arrived at the right row. “Party of three, minimum level of six, each trained in core Fighter skills, correct?”

  “That’s correct,” Andy said.

  “Great,” she said. She reached under the table and pulled out three purple parchments, handing them to Andy. “You’ll be taking wing AD. Please study your maps, and there will be an orientation under the tent beginning in about thirty minutes.”

  There were well over a hundred adventurers gathered on the premises, so the tent and the immediate area was quite crowded. Andy handed Quinn and Patesh their maps and they found a free spot a few paces away where they could lean against a few trees.

  Andy opened his map and took a look. There was a hugely complex series of caverns depicted. Each section of the cavern was labeled with a letter, A through BX. There were symbols marked roughly under each letter, and a key at the bottom of the map that explained each symbol.

  Andy moved his finger over the map, finding section AD. It was located about halfway down the main corridor, and judging by the map, it seemed like it was composed mostly of natural cave rooms.

  Under the AD label, there were four symbols: a skull, a pitchfork, a downward triangle, and a question mark.

  Andy looked at the correspondences in the key. For the skull, there was a description: “skeleton mob spawner located in this section.” The pitchfork indicated “minor demon mob spawner located in this section.” The downward triangle meant “natural cave-dwelling threats,” and the question mark indicated “other potential threats possible.”

  “Skeletons, demons, and natural threats indicated,” Quinn said.

  “So no weirds,” said Patesh.

  “Not unless they fall under the ‘other potential threats’ category,” said Quinn. “Seems like a cop-out category, to be honest.”

  “Well,” Andy said. “In any case, it looks like we’ll have our hands full.”

  ***

  “I was almost finished with the {thirty days of malice} rite,” Braden said, staring out the window of the carriage he and Neroth rode in. “It would have granted me the Warlock class and a pact with an arch-demon. This trip had better be worth it.”

  “Those rites are hit or miss,” said Neroth. “They’re difficult to pull off, and sometimes they don’t even work. It’s more a diversion than serious work.”

  Braden scoffed. “If you have such little faith in the Tome of Black Pacts, then why’d you give it to me in the first place?”

  “I gave it to you the same way you’d gift a croquet set,” Neroth said. “It’s a harmless diversion and perhaps it helps you cultivate your skills in torture. You’re a natural at that, you know, but it doesn’t hurt to try new techniques.”

  Braden remained silent.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty more opportunities to play with those rites in the future,” said Neroth. “But this trip is a great opportunity for you to get some dungeon crawling experience and put those fighting skills to the test. You can’t torture your way to victory in the arena. The more experience you get beforehand, the better. Your previous instructor may have coddled you, but I certainly will not.”

  The horse-drawn carriage veered off the paved main road and onto a bumpy dirt path.

  “We really are headed away from civilization, eh?” Braden said.

  “Not too far,” said Neroth. “Towermeade. I’ve claimed a wing of the Obscure Wizard’s silver dungeon for us and our team to clear.”

  “Who will be joining us?” Braden said.

  “Well, the servants have already gone ahead and prepared our tent. No sense in traveling without proper dining arrangements. But as far as those entering the dungeon with us, a few Domestic Guards and several of the ratfolk that we’ve employed have agreed to join us.”

  Braden observed the passing trees, the forest now growing more dense. “Will Brea be there?”

  “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.”

  “Sure,” Neroth said, sitting in silence for a moment. “Braden, I don’t want you to get any funny ideas with her, do you hear me? I know that, strictly speaking, the attendant’s contract requires the servants to obey any order, reasonable or not, but it is vital that we keep up the senior staff’s morale. You can run your experiments on thieves and you can play around with some of the less senior servants, but without Brea, the estate would cease functioning. She’s off limits. Do you hear?”

  “Of course, uncle.”

  The carriage shook as the terrain became rougher.

  “Nobility comes with many privileges,” Neroth said, “but you must learn when to indulge them and when to refrain.”

  “Yes, uncle,” Braden said absentmindedly. “Anything you say."