Cinnamon Bun Volume 4 E-Book

RavensDagger

• Herausgeber: Podium Publishing
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Cinnamon Bun
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 590

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

 Broccoli Bunch and her best buds embark on a quest to make more friends, have fun, and stand up against the forces of darkness.    The crew of the airship  Beaver Cleaver  are willing to follow Broccoli Bunch wherever she may lead them—a grand gesture of love and loyalty for someone who's only been their captain for a week. They admire her ability to resolve conflicts and forge friendships under even the most dire and dangerous of situations, as well as her courage on the battlefield against those who threaten all that is good in the world.    On their latest adventure, Broccoli and her friends Amaryllis, Awen, and the sylph paladin Bastion must cleanse a dungeon of its Evil Roots. Weeding out the sinsiter plant requires our heroes to wander labyrinthine corridors, fight off vicious monsters, and keep the self-proclaimed hero cervid Emmanuel Aldelain von Chadsbourne, who insisted on joining them, from wreaking havoc with every reckless move he makes.     But magically cleaning up a dungeon is child's play compared to what awaits Broccoli and her companions as they fight sky pirates over a penal colony island and rally opposing armies to battle a monstrous dragonkin amphiptere. It's all in a day's work!      The fourth volume of the hit LitRPG fantasy series—with more than seven million views on Royal Road—now available on Audible and wherever ebooks are sold!  

Leseprobe

Cinnamon

Bun

• Volume 4 •

RavensDagger

To Dada,

A great artist, and a wonderful father.

I wish we had time for one more adventure.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission from Podium Publishing.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 by Edgar Malboeuf

Cover design by Larcian

Mountains (featured in maps by Edgar Malboeuf) illustrated by AoA

The Beaver Cleaver illustrated by Albreo

ISBN: 978-1-0394-1667-3

Published in 2022 by Podium Publishing, ULC

www.podiumaudio.com

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Home Again, Home Again

Chapter Two

Reciprocation

Chapter Three

Dine Hard

Chapter Four

Not the Hero We Need, but Not the Hero We Deserve

Chapter Five

Read the Mood

Chapter Six

The Prisoner’s Dilemma

Chapter Seven

Mist Opportunities

Chapter Eight

Toadbreakers

Chapter Nine

Planning Committea

Chapter Ten

Un Mist Takeable

Chapter Eleven

Impostor Syndrome

Chapter Twelve

Colorless Green Ideas Slither Furiously

Chapter Thirteen

Inquiring Mind Wants to Know

Chapter Fourteen

Guilt

Chapter Fifteen

The Buck Stops Here

Chapter Sixteen

The Dread Cute-ulu

Chapter Seventeen

Down with the Boss

Chapter Eighteen

A True Captain

Chapter Nineteen

Celebrating the Good Things

Chapter Twenty

A Happy Sort of Busy

Chapter Twenty-One

Skills and Levels and Stats, Oh My!

Chapter Twenty-Two

A Huffy Afternoon

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Great Grey Wall

Chapter Twenty-Four

Armor Up

Chapter Twenty-Five

A Cry

Chapter Twenty-Six

A Crysis

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Befriend Them with Lasers

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Warning: Rocket Launch Detected

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ack-Ack

Chapter Thirty

Cross-Cultural Xenopsychology 101

Chapter Thirty-One

LISTEN UP, MAGGOTS!

Chapter Thirty-Two

People Come Here to Be Forgotten

Chapter Thirty-Three

Towerhidden

Chapter Thirty-Four

They’re Going the Distance!

Chapter Thirty-Five

Cry “Havoc!” and Let Slip the Lasers of War

Chapter Thirty-Six

Islanding

Chapter Thirty-Seven

A Tale of Two Prison Colonies

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Sanity Check

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Intercepted

Chapter Forty

Bunniver’s Travels

Chapter Forty-One

Paladin Business

Chapter Forty-Two

Dam It All

Chapter Forty-Three

Diggy Diggy Hole

Chapter Forty-Four

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better (Except for Hugs)

Chapter Forty-Five

Chain of Command

Chapter Forty-Six

On the Back Foot

Chapter Forty-Seven

Move Fast and Break Things

Chapter Forty-Eight

Granite Springs Calls for Aid

Chapter Forty-Nine

Joint Strike Fighters

Chapter Fifty

Snakes Are a Pain

Chapter Fifty-One

Saint Bastion and the Dragon

Chapter Fifty-Two

Quarry

Chapter Fifty-Three

The Melancholy of Broccoli Bunch

Chapter Fifty-Four

Ironclad Hugs

Chapter Fifty-Five

Captain’s Logs

Chapter Fifty-Six

Airtime Naptime

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Final Destination

Chapter Fifty-Eight

See Ya Later!

About the Author

• Chapter One •

Home Again, Home Again

The Beaver Cleaver’s bright balloon hovering over the little town was the first sign I saw that we were nearing Hopsalot.

We huffed and puffed our way up a final hill, and as we crested it we got to see the whole town ahead of us: tree-house homes and burrows, open fields where neat little gardens were soaking up morning sunshine, and the gurgling river that swished and swashed through the village, never going in a straight line when it could instead meander around hills and under arched stone bridges with trellis-covered sides.

I raised a hand and cupped it over my forehead to shield my eyes from the sun. I could make out buns, most with bright white shirts and adorable overalls on, some caring for their gardens while the little ones ran around and chased each other over hills, their long bunny ears bouncing with every step. The older buns were usually sitting on the porches before their burrow homes, rocking on finely crafted chairs and smoking from reed pipes.

“We’re here!” I called back to the others.

Behind me were my best friends. Awen still had bandages around her waist from where she’d gotten hurt the night before, and Amaryllis looked miffed at having to walk through the forest so much. The branches and leaves tended to get caught in her feathers, much to her very loud annoyance. Bastion came up behind them, looking like a very small knight in shining armor. He smiled at me, relaxed as a sylph paladin could be. His wings fluttered behind him as he stepped off a boulder.

Then there were the buns. Momma in her half-plate and Carrot, who’d removed her gauntlets and had them tied by her waist so that they clanged and banged with every step. Buster took up the very rear of the group, the huge bun stomping along with his big hammer slung onto his shoulder. Peter was … somewhere. He was the sneaky sort, so it wasn’t too surprising that I couldn’t spot him. I was sure that he’d show up if anything needed our attention.

Carrot bounced to a stop at the top of the hill, right next to me. Her ears wiggled with poorly suppressed excitement, and her grin was as wide as a grin could be. “Home!” she declared.

“Home!” I said right back.

Hopsalot wasn’t my home, of course, but the Beaver certainly was. I could just barely make out a few figures on the airship’s deck, some of them with long bun-ears.

Momma caught up to us with the others and took a deep breath. “Ah, there was a time, once, where I would leave for months on end. Wanderlust dragging me this way and that. Now I can hardly leave for more than a day or two without fearing that everything will crumble apart without me there.”

I giggled. “I’m sure it’s not so bad.”

Some of the buns in Hopsalot spotted our party, and within moments a whole crowd of little buns had gathered by the edge of the village. They stared at us, some of them holding up their ears away from their eyes, while others hesitated and only peeked our way from behind bushes and picket fences. When we came over, their hesitation broke, and soon we were swarmed by a whole gaggle of buns.

Carrot darted ahead, picked one little bun up by the armpits, and spun her around a couple of times before squeezing her tight. “I’m back!” she said while the little bun tried really hard to return the hug, even though her arms were too short to wrap around Carrot’s sides.

I felt Awen and Amaryllis shuffle up behind me, using me as a barricade against all the bouncing and smiling buns. “Hello!” I said.

Their reply was a cacophony of questions that I couldn’t possibly answer all at once. From asking if we’d fought big monsters, to wondering if they could visit the airship again, to very generous offers to join them in playing extreme hopscotch.

“Ah, I’m sorry, everybun. But my friends and I need to follow Momma! We’ll have some time to play after that, I’m sure!”

Momma was kneeling down, hugging buns that needed hugs, patting buns that needed pats, and sometimes pinching fat, chubby cheeks, much to the dismay of the buns whose faces she pinched.

It took a bit for the tide of little buns to recede and for us to be able to head deeper into the town. Buster was entirely covered in buns, who seemed to have confused the big man for a jungle gym. Peter, of course, was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t seem the sort to take kindly to being pestered by little buns.

Momma shooed some of them along, and Carrot saved the day by sacrificing herself with a declaration of, “Who wants to play tag?” The screaming horde bounced after Carrot, a whole bunch of ears wobbling as they chased her.

“Aww,” I said.

“Thank the World,” Amaryllis said. “I can’t handle one child. That many is just a disaster in the making.”

“Oh, we have little disasters all the time,” Momma said. “Buns who get caught between pickets, buns who get into fights over favorite dolls. Buns who discover some interesting insect, name it, start treating it as a favored pet, and are then devastated when the insect passes away … usually on the same day they found it.”

“Oh no,” I said. “That happened to me once. I had a pet praying mantis, but I didn’t tell my mom that little Mem was a pet, and she smacked it with a flyswatter. I was devastated.”

“Awa, I never had a pet before,” Awen said.

“I’ve always wanted a cat,” Amaryllis added. “They have very agreeable personalities.”

“Is that why you get along so well with Orange?” I asked.

“I suppose so. The spirit cat is obviously a grand and noble creature. I see a lot of myself in her.”

Snorting, I turned to Awen. “What about you? We could probably get you a pet, if you wanted. Like a dog? Airships can have dogs, right?”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Awen said. “Dogs need room to move, and the Beaver is a little small for that.”

I pouted. My plan, newly created, to use Awen as an excuse to get a dog had been foiled. “Well, all right. Maybe a parrot—we are pirates after all.”

“I would like to log my protest,” Bastion said. “I am not a pirate. Nor, for that matter, are any of you.”

“Sky pirate, sorry,” I said.

“No,” he said, with obvious exasperation. It turned into contrite resignation when I giggled. He had a knack for making strange faces whenever I caught him flat-footed.

I was expecting Momma to lead us to her home, but instead she moved toward the hill where the Beaver had set down his anchor. “I genuinely wish we could have you stay, if only for a little longer, but if my suspicions are correct, then the Insmouth dungeon is in as great a risk as the Newbining dungeon was.”

“We need to head over there and fix it as soon as we can, then?” I asked.

Momma nodded. “I’m confident you can manage. In either case, I’ll send some of my better buns over—including Carrot and, perhaps, Peter—to see if they need assistance in a day’s time.”

“They could come with us,” I offered.

Momma shook her head. “They need time with their families. And you need a break, too, I imagine. Still, the World doesn’t always have as much concern for us as we’d wish.”

I sighed. “Okay. We should probably get Awen back to bed anyway.”

“Awa? I’m better now,” Awen said. She reached over and touched her side. “There’s just some scabbing now. I took potions.”

“I’m still worried.”

“You were impaled once, and we didn’t do this much for you,” Awen said. “Remember? In that glass dungeon?”

“Well, yeah, I was fine,” I said.

Awen crossed her arms and leveled a very un-Awen look at me. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Broc. I can deal with a bit of pain.”

Momma laughed, and Amaryllis seemed very proud of Awen while I pouted. “Fine, fine.”

We arrived in the shadow cast by the Beaver, and I saw Oda and Sally, the Scallywags, looking over the rails at us. A couple of the older little buns were with them, those who were around the Scallywags’ own ages. I waved, and they waved back.

“Do you need anything for your return trip?” Momma asked.

I considered it. “I don’t think so? Some supplies wouldn’t go amiss. Our voyage has already gone on for a lot longer than we expected.”

“We didn’t get as much fuel in Needleford as we could have,” Awen said. “But I don’t think we can get any here.”

“I’m afraid that Hopsalot doesn’t have much use for it,” Momma agreed. “What about food?”

“We’re fine there,” Amaryllis said. “Thank you.”

Bastion bowed at the waist. “I wish to thank you as well, ma’am,” he said. “Your hospitality has been wonderful, and your prompt action has likely done much to keep your town safe.”

“That’s just a mother’s job,” Momma said. “Come, I’ll give you all a quick hug for the trip back.”

I crashed into Momma because, really, her hugs were the best. Then it was the others’ turn, though Bastion politely declined, and Amaryllis made noises as if she wanted to decline while eagerly accepting the hug.

“I’m going to miss Hopsalot,” I said. “And I was only here for less than a day.” I let my shoulders droop, and my gaze wandered over the town. It was just so chaotically peaceful. The big homes built into trees, the doors stuck into the sides of hills, the little streets, paved in carefully laid cobbles. The river sang a gurgling song, accompanied by the wind whispering over grassy hills.

Then a whole bunch of little ones appeared, all of them scrambling over Carrot, who took a tumble and rolled down a hill to the tune of merry screams.

“I would offer to let you stay,” Momma said when she looked away from the spectacle. None of the little buns looked to be hurt from the flop down the hill. “But I suspect you’re at that point in your life where adventure has its hooks in you, and you want nothing more than to meddle. It might be best for everyone here if you only came back when you’re older and calmer.”

“I’m not a meddler,” I defended myself.

Amaryllis snorted.

“Is this Mock Broccoli Day?” I asked.

“It’s always Mock Broccoli Day,” Amaryllis said. She nodded to Momma. “We’ll probably fly back over here again, on the way north.”

“Then stop by for tea,” Momma said, “no matter the hour.”

Amaryllis nodded, then moved over to a ladder that someone had left dangling off the Beaver’s side. “Come on, Broccoli, you’re holding us back!”

“Oh, right, okay,” I said. I jumped to Momma, gave her a last hug, got my head rubbed for my troubles, then darted back to the Beaver.

When we climbed aboard, we found a few curious buns on deck, with Clive sitting on one of the steps leading to the aft castle and explaining things. Howard the fishman was nearby, too, wringing his webbed fingers as he approached.

“I’ll make sure we don’t have any uninvited guests aboard,” Amaryllis said. “You deal with Howard here.”

I nodded and skipped over to the fishman. “Heya.”

“Hello, Captain Bunch,” he said. “How did it go?”

“It went well enough,” I said. “We know how to fix your dungeon now, but I think we ought to hurry back. It gets harder and harder to fix things as time goes on. We don’t want to be too late.”

Howard’s shoulders loosened and he gave me a fishy smile. “Oh, thank the fathomless depths.”

“Don’t worry, Howard, my friends and I will have everything back to how it ought to be in a jiffy!”

• Chapter Two •

Reciprocation

It would take, winds willing, a few hours to get back to Insmouth. By the time we arrived, I guesstimated that it would be an hour or two past noon. That meant we’d need to have lunch aboard the Beaver Cleaver.

I left Clive, the harpies, and the Scallywags to do the complicated work of flying the airship while I headed down and into the kitchen to prepare lunch. The only hands that were free were Awen’s and Amaryllis’s, and … neither were all that good at the whole cooking thing.

I was humming while inspecting the ingredients we had available when Amaryllis came out of her room to stand nearby. She leaned against the frame of the archway leading into the kitchen. “Do you need help?”

I tapped my chin. “I could use a bit of help, sure,” I said. “I think I’ll be making a big lunch. We might need leftovers for later. A nice veggie salad, some fried fish, maybe some porridge?”

“That sounds like a big meal,” Amaryllis said as she stood straighter and walked over. “How can I help?”

I eyed her up and down. “You really want to help? With the cooking?”

“What’s wrong with me wanting to help?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Just, well, didn’t figure you for the cooking sort.”

She huffed. “I can learn, can’t I?”

“Yup! You sure can.” I nodded. “Do you want to start by chopping the veggies? I’ll need them cut up into little cubes to start with.”

“Humph, fine.”

I opened a sack of potatoes and another of turnips and then grabbed some purple-skinned carrots and set them all on the table where we could start cutting. A big cauldron came next so that we had a place to toss all the cut veggies. I hummed as I found a pair of knives and started working.

“How are you?” Amaryllis asked. The question sounded strained.

I blinked and looked up to her. “I’m all right?” I tried.

She glared at me, huffed a huff that I wasn’t familiar with, and went back to chopping up potatoes in … vaguely cube-like shapes. She was trying her best, so I wouldn’t complain. They’d all be mashed up anyway.

“You… Ugh, this isn’t something I’m good at,” Amaryllis whined.

“You’ll get better.”

“I’m not talking about the cooking, you dolt.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Then what are you talking about?”

Amaryllis continued to chop her veggies. She was quiet, but it felt like she was working up to something, so I didn’t interrupt her silence. “Broccoli,” she began, “you’ve been through a lot.”

“Well, yeah, I guess.”

“And yet you’re still smiling, and you’re still worried for everyone, and you’re still doing your best,” she continued.

“Uh, yeah, that’s what a good friend does.”

“Even when I constantly call you an idiot? And when Awen constantly depends on you to be her … pillar, I suppose?”

I blinked. I didn’t know exactly where she was going with all that. “Yes?”

She huffed, and this time it was a very plain, very frustrated huff. “You’re a … you’re a pain to deal with sometimes, Broccoli Bunch,” she said. “Most people wouldn’t weather all the stuff you’ve been through as well as you have.”

“Thanks!” I said.

“No,” Amaryllis said. “It wasn’t a compliment. Well, I do suppose you could take it as one. What I mean is …” She paused, then rubbed a wing under her nose. “You know, I was not always as confident as I am now.”

I felt like she was trying to say something important without saying it, and in moments like that the best thing a good friend could do was listen. Still, I continued working on our lunch, not that it took much attention.

“When I was younger I was the most timid of my sisters. Clementine can be incredible, but she casts a long shadow, and Rosaline has always been Rosaline. Loud and confident and always getting herself into trouble, then flying out of it with a wink and a smile. So … I was the timid one. That changed as I got a little older, as I tired of my role in the family and started to …” She squirmed. “… dream. As I started to dream of a future where I was my own harpy. School helped—it gave me an environment out of my sisters’ shadows. It gave me harpies from other clans to bicker and fight with, and it allowed me to spread my wings a little. I don’t remember any instantaneous change, no stark turning point … but bit by bit, I must have been changing. Little victories, building on each other, until without quite realizing it, I’d become more … me. I left the family, took a class that I appreciated more, and set off for adventure.”

“That’s when we met?”

She nodded. “Yes. That was an experience.”

“A good one,” I replied.

She huffed, a very ambivalent, sarcastic huff. “Let’s go with that. My point with that rather trite story is to say that I understand if you’re having difficulty acting as confident as you have been.”

“Uh,” I said. I don’t think I had any trouble being confident or anything. Still, Amaryllis seemed worried, which was weird. There wasn’t anything to worry about. Sure, the last dungeon had been tough, and we were all tired by the end, but we had won, hadn’t we? “Did you want me to tell a story about when I was young too? To make us even.”

“My goal wasn’t to make us even or anything.”

“You once said that you could tell someone something private and then expect them to return the favor. Remember? You called it reciprocation.”

Amaryllis blinked. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do,” I said. “Um, well, I remember you telling it to me. The details are a bit vague now. It was a while ago.”

The floor creaked, and when I looked over, it was to find Awen stepping in. She had her hands folded over her tummy and was looking bashful. “Awa, sorry, I kind of … kind of had my room’s door open and I, ah, might have … overheard. A little.”

“That’s okay,” I said.

Amaryllis harrumphed. “I suppose.”

“Do you need help? Or I could go, if you two are having a, ah, moment,” Awen offered.

I glanced at Amaryllis. Were we having a moment? Weren’t we always having moments?

“We weren’t,” Amaryllis said. “Now come over here with those stupid human hands of yours and chop these. This knife is not made for a proper taloned hand. I’m going to develop a crick in my wrist at this rate.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were having a hard time. I thought you were just really bad.”

Amaryllis’s feathers poofed with indignation. “Not just dumb, but rude too,” she said. “Now get on with the story. I’m going to fill the pot with water.”

“About a quarter full,” I said. “As for stories … I don’t know what to tell? My life was very boring, you know?”

“I doubt that,” Amaryllis said.

“I can tell one,” Awen said. “While you think, if you want.”

“I’d love that!” I cheered.

Awen smiled as she took her place at the table alongside me and started working. “I don’t have very interesting stories. Uncle Abraham’s visits were always the most exciting thing. Otherwise I’d spend the day with lessons or practicing. I liked playing with different instruments—it was one of the only parts of being a lady that was nice. Not that I could just play anything.”

“Why not?”

“Some instruments aren’t ladylike.” Awen said. “A flute is, a piano is, but a lute or a banjo is not. They leave you with unseemly calluses, and things like a cello require that the lady put herself in a compromising position to play.”

“Huh? That’s stupid.”

Awen giggled. “Yes, a little,” she agreed. “But that’s how it is. When I became a mechanic, my parents were very disappointed, but I was a little too sickly to bring to a dungeon to change my class. All the good, ladylike classes are in dungeons that are somewhat dangerous now, most of them near the capital, and, well, whenever I heard them talking of moving me over, I’d play sick.”

Amaryllis snorted. “Well done, there.”

Awen looked down. “Ah, thanks. I always wanted to practice my mechanical skills, but it’s hard to do that when you’re not allowed. So I tended to be very clumsy. I’d break things, then put them back together. Some of the maids and servants were very helpful! They’d bring me tools and sometimes give me things that needed to be fixed. Like mechanical clocks and some devices in the kitchens. That’s why I was able to keep up a little, and I was always a bit better the next time Uncle Abraham would come around.”

I placed my knife on the table, stepped toward Awen, and engulfed her in a big, rib-creaking hug.

“Awa?”

“You can do as much mechanical stuff as you want when you’re with us. Or none. Or if you get some other hobby, you can do that as much as you want, all right?”

Awen laughed and returned the hug with a good squeeze. “You’re being silly, Broc. I know all that.”

“Oh,” I said as I loosened the hug. “Well good.” I nodded. “My turn?”

“Certainly,” Amaryllis said. “Do we put any spices in this?”

“No, but put it on the stove. We need to set it to a boil so the veggies get mushy. Here, let’s put the rest in too.”

While the veggies boiled, I prepared a salad for the side. Nothing much. Tiny tomatoes, some leafy greens, a few slices of carrot, and some oil that I mixed with a few spices and herbs we had drying on a rack in the little pantry.

“I think … so, you girls know I like adventure, right?”

“We noticed,” Amaryllis said. She was sitting up on a bench built into the wall under one of the portholes, a bird enjoying the sun.

“Right, well I wasn’t always a huge fantasy fan. When I was really young, my parents moved often. I don’t really remember all the places I’ve lived in. Sometimes we were only in a town for half a year, other times it was longer.”

“Were your parents traders?” Awen asked. “We had a lot of people like that in Greenshade.”

“Nah, my dad couldn’t keep a job, nor could my mom, and they both liked moving a lot. We lived in mobile homes and apartments and all sorts of places. We’d change provinces every so often too. Anyway, when I was … Ah, I think I was in seventh grade? So I must have been about fourteen, or maybe I was still thirteen? Around that age.”

“A teenager, barely a juvenile, but not quite,” Amaryllis said. “Old enough to lay eggs.”

“Uh,” I said. I shook my head. “Something like that. So, I’d just moved to this new school. First year of secondary school, so all the students were new, too, even though I’d come in halfway into the year. It wasn’t so bad. At least, I’d hoped.”

“Did you make lots of friends?” Awen asked.

“Nope. Just one. It was this boy who didn’t have any friends. He had a stutter and wasn’t good at sports and stuff. We were in the same classes, and he always sat by the front, which is where I like to sit. We talked a bit and became buddies.”

“Your first friend?” Amaryllis asked.

“One of them. He really, really liked books. Fantasy stories, with magic and wizards and all sorts of cool stuff. So I read those, too, and we always had something to talk about.” I felt a little sad as I set the salad aside. “We should start on the fish. Awen, can you mash the veggies for me?”

“Ah, sure.”

I got a pan out and oiled it, then fetched the fish from a rune-powered fridge. “Anyway, we moved again that summer. Never saw him again. But I still remember some of those stories. They kept me company for a long time. I guess I learned that from him.”

I hummed as the fish fizzled on the snapping and crackling oil.

“Is … that the whole story?” Amaryllis asked.

“I guess so?”

Amaryllis stood up and walked right up next to me. “I’m going to hug you now. Don’t go thinking anything about it. This is your one hug this week, so enjoy it.”

“Huh?”

But then my protests were drowned in a fluffy, feathery hug.

• Chapter Three •

Dine Hard

Dig in!” I cheered.

Most of the crew, minus Steve and Oda, were spread out around the dining room table with their share of supper before them. We didn’t do anything special before eating, but somehow—without ever actually talking about it—we tended to wait until everyone had food on their plate first.

There were some nice noises of agreement from the others as they tucked in. The porridge seemed like a good place to start, and some were already cutting into their slices of grilled fish. “I need to thank Amaryllis and Awen—they helped a lot,” I said.

Everyone but the two girls slowed down and hesitated to continue eating.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” I said. “They’re getting better. I bet they might even get a cooking skill one of these days.”

“Oh, please, no,” Amaryllis said. “That would be such a waste of a general skill slot.”

“Really? I wouldn’t mind it too much,” I said. “It’s not something too awesome, but it’s very practical. I still have a couple of general skill slots to fill, you know?”

“I do have some unused slots,” Amaryllis allowed as she picked at her fish. There were still bones in it, which made it tricky to eat. “I’m not sure if I should focus on more exploration-related skills, or some that would be more practical in the day-to-day.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Most people,” Bastion replied, “will have to make a choice between obtaining skills to help them do the things they do every day or skills that assist them with their work. Something like Sword Fighting Proficiency is a wonderful skill for a paladin like myself, but it would be wasted on a farmer. Likewise, I wouldn’t have much use for a Planting skill. But in both cases we’re assuming that a person is heavily specialized. If you’re not, then it makes sense to invest in skills that make your everyday life easier.”

“It’s a trade off, then,” I said.

Bastion nodded. “That’s it. The best people in their field are almost always those who have invested everything into being the best. Every class and every skill. They will be impressively good at the one thing they focused on, whatever that may be.”

I nodded along while I considered that. “I don’t know what I want to be,” I said. “I know what I want, but I’m not sure if I need any classes or anything to do that, just hard work.”

“I know that your answer is going to be some sickeningly sweet, idiotic tripe, but I find myself compelled to ask anyway,” Amaryllis said. “What’s your goal?”

“To make the best friends, and to make sure they’re as happy as can be.”

Amaryllis rolled her eyes and Awen giggled. A few others at the table laughed, but I didn’t mind. It was a good laugh.

“I recall you mentioning wanting to be strong,” Amaryllis said.

“That too,” I agreed. “But I don’t need to be crazy strong, just tough enough that people will hesitate to hurt my friends.”

Bastion hummed, then gestured to me with his fork. “Perhaps focus on skills that will help your role as a captain, then. Leadership skills do help in a tight spot, and they’d assist you in your current role as captain, obviously.”

“Awa, maybe you should just accept the skill you get naturally? That’s what Uncle does. He says that if you’re getting skills because you’re doing something you like, then those skills are the ones the World thinks you’ll enjoy best.”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense. It also means I don’t need to worry about it!”

“Moron,” Amaryllis said.

We continued eating, our constant yammering slowing us down. At the far end of the table, Howard and Clive were having an in-depth discussion about, of all things, fishing, and Sally and Joe were talking to Gordon about different ports the harpy had visited.

I enjoyed the babble of conversation. It made the Beaver sound like a wonderfully happy place. Orange strutted down, walking on air as only a spirit cat could, and sat herself on Amaryllis’s lap, purring up a storm.

“I suspect that we ought to plan our next steps,” Bastion said as he set his fork down. He always ate quickly, as if his meal might slip away at a moment’s notice.

“Do you mean the next part of the trip, or the next adventure?” I asked.

“I mean the Insmouth dungeon,” Bastion said. Howard looked over at that, and Bastion caught his eye. “Can you tell us more about it?”

Howard nodded before pulling a pipe from his old coat. Clive already had his pipe out and was carefully pushing some stuff in it from a little tin jar on the table. “Our dungeon’s fairly old, but it was never one to grow fast. Three floors for the longest time. Four now. Not too many monsters, but plenty of tricks.”

“I see,” Bastion said. “What are the floors like?”

“Hmm,” Howard paused as he lit his pipe and took a pull while flicking out a match. It left the room smelling kind of smoky and fruity. Not the worst smell, but not the best. I let my Cleaning aura expand to remove the smell. “The floors are all connected by this long, narrow cave. You can skip a floor, but it’s mighty dangerous.”

“Monster types?” Amaryllis asked.

“Large fishlike creatures, things with tentacles, and the mist. You can’t really fight the last.” He puffed a perfect ring into the air. “Your worst enemy is yourself and your friends. The dungeon will always try to challenge your bonds.”

“That’s awful,” I said.

“How many do you usually go in with?” Bastion asked.

“Just myself and the person needing the class,” Howard said. He pulled his pipe out and traced a circle in the air with the mouthpiece. “More’s fine if they trust each other, but the more folk go down, the harder it gets, unless you really trust each other. Still, more people often means moving along faster too. So it’s a balancing act, in the grand scheme of things.”

“We’re not going down with just one of us,” I said. “That’s way too dangerous.”

“Up to you folk,” Howard said.

“Right. So the plan’s pretty simple, I guess. We arrive in town, anchor the Beaver, then head over to the dungeon right away. The longer we wait, the worse it’ll be. We don’t want to go too fast, because that’s dangerous, so we want to start as soon as we can. Maybe we bring some supplies to last a day or so.”

“Only takes an afternoon to clear it,” Howard said.

“It might take longer now,” I said. “We don’t know that yet, so it’s best to overprepare.”

There were nods all around.

“I think it’ll be … um, I need to be there for the Cleaning magic. Amaryllis should be there to lightning things, Awen to mechanic things, and Bastion because he’s fun. And Howard, of course, to act as a guide and local expert.” I nodded, very much pleased with my leadership abilities when it came to picking out a good team.

“You idiot, you just want us to be there because you think this is some big adventure,” Amaryllis said.

“Isn’t it?”

Awen nodded. “It is.”

“Humph,” Amaryllis humphed. “Well, whatever. As long as we get this over with. We’re a few days behind. We were supposed to arrive in Sylphfree the day after tomorrow. A quick glance at any map will reveal that we’re some three days away now, if we fly straight over right away.”

“Ah, but we were going to be a week early, right?”

“Yes, and that’s not worth anything if we arrive a week late,” Amaryllis snapped.

I shrugged. “All right. So, who wants to help me with the dishes?”

The room cleared pretty quickly after that, only Awen staying behind to help me pick up. I, of course, cheated with Cleaning magic, because doing the dishes wasn’t actually fun at all unless you were doing them with someone.

“Ah, I think I should run back to do some work,” Awen said. “My crossbow needs some maintenance. I had some ideas for it, but we won’t have time for that before we arrive in Insmouth.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Awen shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I might look around town to buy some supplies. We have some here, but I’d feel safer with more, in case the Beaver needs repairs.” She blinked, then looked my way. “Is there anything you need, Broc? I can tinker now. Sometimes I just don’t know what to make, though.”

“Hmm,” I said. I didn’t want to say “Nothing.” That wouldn’t be too nice, not when Awen seemed so eager to actually put her skills to some use. But I didn’t actually need too much, not for adventuring. Maybe for my role as captain? “Oh! I need a cool telescope.”

“A telescope? Like, to see things?”

“Yup. All good captains have one. It’s a staple, right up there with a cool pet. Usually, that’s a parrot or a monkey, but I think Orange fits there.”

The cat in question glanced my way from her spot on my seat at the head of the table. I think she was just there because it was warm.

Once everything was tucked away, Awen said she’d be heading to her workshop, so I gave her a quick hug—for skill practice and because hugs—then I checked my collection of teas before picking a couple and setting them aside. Then it was back onto deck.

I jumped to, helping the others when I saw that Clive was pulling the Beaver around a rather tight turn. It only took a glance toward Insmouth to the north to see why. We hadn’t overshot the village, exactly, but it was a near thing.

Sails snapped, the propeller hissed, and the engine rumbled below deck while the Scallywags and the harpies and I ran around getting everything in order to aim back toward the town. Soon enough, we were stowing the sails, slowing down as best we could to coast in over the settlement.

It was past midday, and out in the bay little fishing boats were bobbing along, a few of them already heading back into the docks with their day’s catch. The people of Insmouth must have been expecting to see the Beaver, because we barely warranted more than a glance as we came to a stop over a nearby clearing and dropped anchor.

The airship tugged at the anchor chain and bobbed about until it settled down. The engines idled and Clive ordered the crew to run a quick inspection of the lines and sails.

“An inspection?” I asked.

“Aye,” the old harpy said. “If we’re going to be sitting here for the evening, might as well ensure that everything’s in working order. Can’t do that well while we’re in full flight.”

“Right,” I said. One of these days I’d get the hang of it. For now, though, I had more pressing things to look forward to.

My friends came up, one at a time, and soon all of us were gathered on deck, backpacks on and equipment ready for another adventure. It was time to do our part to save … maybe not the world … but at least this little corner of it!

• Chapter Four •

Not the Hero We Need, but Not the Hero We Deserve

My name is Emmanuel Aldelain von Chadsbourne, and I am here to help!”

My friends and I all stopped where we were—that was, right in the middle of the main thoroughfare of Insmouth. The fishy people of the town were going about their business, though quite a few of them were looking our way. Maybe it was seeing four explorers all geared up for an adventure. Maybe it was to see if Howard was all right.

Probably, it was the cervid standing across from us.

I had only seen a few of the deer people, and that had been a while ago, way back when I was still working on becoming Amaryllis’s friend. This one seemed … different than the obviously military-minded cervid I’d met.

He—I assumed it was a he, what with the great antlers splaying out proudly from his head—was a couple of feet taller than me, with a puffed-up chest and a dignified bearing. He had nice armor on, with a big pauldron and a cuirass that looked like it was made of leather. His sides and flanks were covered in more of the same, with gilding here and there to make the armor look that much fancier.

“And who are you?” Amaryllis asked. She sounded like she was on the wrong side of tense which … yeah, that made sense. She hadn’t had the best of experiences with cervids before. I placed a hand on her shoulder, reminding her that I was still there if she needed emergency hugs.

The cervid blinked. He seemed momentarily confused, but that soon passed as he puffed out his chest even more. “I am Emmanuel Aldelain von Chadsbourne. Adventurer, fighter, lover of women! The fine people of this quaint town have told me that some other intrepid adventurers had come and were offering to assist! I, never one to shy away from sharing in the glory that comes from helping those in need, have waited here to see them.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, we’re adventurers too!”

The cervid’s eyes lit up. “Truly?” he asked. “What are your guild ranks, if I may ask? Which branch are you from? I am aware of very few women adventurers.”

I shook my head. “We’re part of the Exploration Guild.”

Emmanuel Aldelain von Chadsbourne’s … Emmanuel’s expression dropped. “Ah, yes, I suppose that makes sense. Not as glorious as the Great Guild of Adventurers, but I suppose it is a little safer.”

“I guess?” I tried. “Anyway, it’s nice to see others out and about trying to help people!”

Emmanuel nodded. “Of course. I have the power, the skill, and the good fortune to be born able to help others, to be able to act as a hero. It would be the height of insult for me not to take up such a mantle.”

Clapping my hands, I cheered him on. “Yeah! That’s the spirit!”

My friends were giving me some looks, but they just didn’t understand. Mister Aldelain von Chadsbourne was doing the right thing, which meant that he should be praised for it. All too often, people who tried their best to help went without notice.

The cervid bowed our way. “Thank you, little miss. Now, not that I wish to ignore such beautiful women, but I was told that a group was on the way to assist this town in its time of need. Are they aboard that vessel?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s us,” I confirmed.

He eyed us all. “The sylph I could imagine, perhaps,” he muttered.

Amaryllis huffed, a very “this person is an idiot and is wasting my time” kind of huff. It was one she’d used on me a few times. “Can we get going? I’d like to see this dungeon thing handled before the day’s up.”

Awen and Bastion seemed eager to agree.

“Ah, well,” I said. “It was nice meeting you, Emmanuel Aldelain von Chadsbourne. We’ll be off now!”

“Pardon me,” he said, his smile becoming a little fixed. “But did I misunderstand your intent to try and fix this town’s dungeon issue?”

“Yup,” I said. “That’s what we’re here for.”

“Ah, but I, too, am here for the same thing. There is no need for any of you young ladies to risk yourselves with this onerous task, not when Emmanuel Aldelain von Chadsbourne is on the job!”

“No, it’s okay,” I said. “We don’t need the help. I think just the four of us will be more than enough. Unless you know something about Evil Roots?”

“Evil Roots? Ah, you mean the”—Emmanuel leaned forward, his voice dropping—“creature these superstitious villagers speak of?”

“It’s less a creature and more a very violent weed,” I said.

Emmanuel chuckled. “You believe them?”

“Well, we’ve fought Evil Roots before, so yes?” I said. I was trying to mask my confusion, but I wasn’t trying that hard. Really, we’d only just stepped off the Beaver to head over to Insmouth’s dungeon, with Howard acting as our guide, when Emmanuel stepped up before us. It was a bit strange. “Anyway, we’re off!”

I led us around Emmanuel. Howard shrugged and walked ahead of us.

“Ah, wait, wait a moment,” Emmanuel said before spinning around and trotting alongside us. “I shall accompany you. I’m certain that if a crew such as yours is able to take care of these Evil Roots, then they’ll be no challenge with someone like myself by your side.”

“I think we’re okay,” I said.

“Awa, maybe you can go see if someone else needs saving?” Awen asked.

The cervid cleared his throat. “Nonsense! When you find someone in need, it’s your duty as a hero to assist as best you can!”

“How did you even end up here?” Amaryllis asked. “We’re on the far side of Hoofbreaker Forest, and I don’t recall cervids being welcome at the Grey Wall.”

“Historically, that may be true, but the cry aren’t so cruel as to deny access to a single intrepid hero,” Emmanuel said. “And Emmanuel Aldelain von Chadsbourne is nothing if not a hero!”

Bastion sighed. “I think the young miss was trying to politely steer you toward an issue that you can solve without interfering with our own business.”

“Nonsense! A hero of my caliber does not get in the way—he paves the way. A way for a better tomorrow!”

“Yeah!” I agreed.

“Stop cheering him on, you dolt,” Amaryllis said. “We’re trying to encourage him to leave.”

“But why? I mean, yeah, we probably don’t need the help in the dungeon, but he doesn’t seem mean. And I guess if he is suspicious, then it would probably be best if we kept him close, right?”

“Emmanuel Aldelain von Chadsbourne is not suspicious, he is heroic!”

Amaryllis gave me a very flat look. “He’s very suspicious.”

I glanced back at the cervid, hesitated, then asked him a question. “Can I use Insight on you?”

“Certainly!”

A cervid Hero of the White Tail, level 20. Proud of himself.

“He’s a little strong, I guess,” I said. Bastion had question marks to his name. Stronger than us by level alone, but not so strong that he was a big threat, especially if we all worked together.

Emmanuel chuckled. “You wound me, young bun. I am still young, and I still have a few adventures left in me before I grow strong enough to defend everyone that needs it.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Well, I think Awen’s probably right. I don’t think we’ll need any help in the Insmouth dungeon, but if we do, it’s nice to know that we have someone to call upon.”

Emmanuel tapped at his chin. “No, I believe I shall insist upon accompanying you.”

“Insist?” Amaryllis asked. She sounded a bit dangerous there.

“Indeed! What hero would leave a group of young maidens alone in such a vile and dangerous place as a dungeon? If you won’t allow me to convince you to stay away from it, then I will accompany you. There might be monsters and vile creatures within, nothing that a young lady ought to bet her fragile constitution against!”

“Pretty sure my constitution’s pretty good,” I said. “That’s like the Resilience stat, right? Mine’s at fifty-five.”

“That’s not terribly high, actually,” Amaryllis said.

“My classes are both more Flexibility based,” I admitted.

“That’s the spirit,” Emmanuel said. “The physical stats are often the most useful in tackling the problems a hero must face in their day-to-day! They keep you healthy and hardy and able to tackle the greatest foes and save those damsels in distress!”

I stared at Emmanuel. He was very excitable. “What’s the male equivalent of a damsel?”

“Pardon?”

“Like, a prince? I mean, I was just thinking, what if that’s what you have to save?”

Amaryllis hummed. “A prince in peril? That preserves the alliteration.”

“A prince isn’t the same as a damsel, though,” Awen said.

“I think that would just be a bachelor,” Bastion said.

“I can’t think of any words that mean ‘in trouble’ that start with the same letter,” I said. “I should get a thesaurus.”

“Yes, because that’s what you need to carry around while dungeon diving,” Amaryllis said. “In case you run into any synonym-based traps.”

“I bet there’s a wordplay dungeon somewhere on Dirt,” I said.

“I have the impression that your group isn’t taking this adventure very seriously,” Emmanuel said.

“Huh? Of course we are,” I said. “Can’t you tell how nervous we are?”

The cervid looked at me, then at all my friends. “I’m afraid that I haven’t spent enough time with the lesser species to learn to read their body language. Your banter certainly doesn’t seem very nervous.”

“Lesser species?” I repeated.

“The cervid are idiots who, in their foolishness, believe that they’re better than everyone else,” Amaryllis said.

“Oh,” I replied. Was this casual speciesism? Did he actually believe that about people or was he just repeating things? It was hard to tell, but either way it wasn’t a great look. “Our banter’s meant to try and make each other laugh, because making someone laugh makes you laugh, and laughter’s a great way to unwind and relax. If you’re going to be doing something stressful, it’s best to start with the best foot forward. So we banter.”

“I see, yes,” Emmanuel said. “That makes sense. Perhaps I should join in your banter as well.”

“I don’t know if you could manage,” Amaryllis said. She glanced my way, and I had the impression that she was trying to tell me some very rude things about Emmanuel with her eyes alone.

“Of course, if some girls can do it, then certainly Emmanuel Aldelain von Chadsbourne, savior of women and hero to all men, can manage!”

“Uh, your confidence is great, but you might want to tone down the misogyny? A lot?” I asked.

“Awa, it is a bit rude.”

“Forgive me?” the cervid said. “I am not entirely certain how I insulted you, dear ladies, but I know how fragile a woman’s heart can be, and it wouldn’t behoove me not to apologize.”

I glanced at my friends and got deadpan looks and shrugs in return.

I wasn’t sure what to do. If someone was rude and unfriendly, it was normal to back away from them or tell them to go away. I wasn’t sure if that would work with Emmanuel at all. I think it would take a lot of time and maybe a good sit down to figure out how to help Emmanuel see past his prejudice, and we really didn’t have time for that.

“I say you let me zap him and we leave him in an alleyway somewhere,” Amaryllis suggested.

“No!” I said. “We can’t do that. He might be a bit rude, but he’s not rude enough to justify attacking him. And who knows, maybe he’ll be useful in the dungeon?”

“One more person might add to the level of risk we’ll be taking on,” Howard warned. “But we have gone in with bigger groups a few times.”

“I’m right here,” Emmanuel said. “I can hear you all.”

“Right, well,” I said. “Howard, where’s the dungeon’s entrance?”

“Ah, it’s just outside town a little ways. It looks a bit like a shed, actually. We placed our graveyard there,” the fishman said.

“Why did you do that?” Awen asked.

“So that the mana from our dearly departed may return to the world by means of the dungeon. It’s just over here now.”

“Let’s see about those Evil Roots then!” I said. And to myself, I wondered about what to do about our new cervid hanger-on.

• Chapter Five •

Read the Mood

The entrance to the Insmouth dungeon that Howard brought us to wasn’t quite what I expected. It was, as he had said, in a graveyard, but one unlike any I had ever seen.

The grounds around the dungeon proper were filled with little statues, each one atop a plinth. The plinths had glass on four sides, with brass rods on the corners holding up a block of square stone.

In most of the glass boxes was an object: a knife, a reel from a fishing rod, a small toy. Sometimes it was a key or a mug like those at the inn or even a tiny carved boat. The older plinths had baubles that were so aged and rusted that it was hard to guess what they had once been.

The plinths were usually grouped together, some linked by iron bars, others just tightly packed.

The statues above were mostly of fish, which was interesting, but I couldn’t help but stare at all the little knickknacks inside.

“What are those things?” I asked.

Howard turned his big fishy eyes my way and replied with quiet reverence. “When one of ours passes, we bury them here in their best clothes, wrapped in netting cloth so that their bones and flesh might better return to dirt. And to remember them, we take a little keepsake of theirs, something they cherished, and put it in a plinth. Once there was a plinth per family, but now our little community has grown close enough that it’s a wonder if half the village isn’t the other half ’s third cousin.”

“Oh,” I said. It was … actually a really nice way to remember people.

We all remained silent as Howard opened a gate in the fence that circled around the cemetery, then stood aside to let us in.

“Don’t worry, everyone! I am here! There is no need to fear any ghost or ghoul!”

I sighed as Emmanuel’s voice rang out across the cemetery. It was like a spell being lifted, and suddenly, the solemnity that came with being in such a place was entirely gone.

“Did no one ever teach you to read the mood?” Amaryllis sniped.

“Of course! The von Chadsbourne family is quite well off. I have been blessed with a wonderful education,” our new cervid … friend … said.

I eyed him, then snapped my attention back to the little shack in the middle of the graveyard. It was a simple building, made of stone just like the plinths and rising to be just a bit shorter than I was. That is, if you counted my ears in my height.

“It’s okay, Amaryllis,” I said as I turned toward Emmanuel. “I think this is where we’ll be parting ways. It was nice meeting you, and I’d love to be friends one day, really, but we need to jump in the dungeon and fix it up as quick as we can.”

I felt my Friendmaking skill activating and eagerly read what it revealed.

Emmanuel Aldelain von Chadsbourne

Desired Quality: Someone who admires his valor and chivalry

Dream: To be a hero of legends

That … was kind of sad, actually. It looked like Emmanuel wanted admirers more than he wanted friends. But wanting to be a hero was pretty cool.

“Pardon?” Emmanuel asked. He chuckled. “No worries, I won’t let you slow me down once we’re in the dungeon.”

“Huh?”

I heard Amaryllis’s talons smacking her in the face. “He’s an idiot.”

“Dear young miss, I am no such thing. I am merely expressing my concern for your well-being. Accompanied as you are by two men, it doesn’t mean that there’s no danger to be had within a dungeon,” Emmanuel said.

I blinked. “Wait, is that just … casual misogyny? But like, really, really obvious?”

“I suspect anything more subtle than a sledgehammer to the head is beyond him,” Amaryllis said.

“Humph,” Emmanuel said. “I can tell when I am being insulted. Very well, it is somewhat understandable. Perhaps you are acting on prejudice, perhaps you merely doubt my abilities.”

The cervid pranced past us on his way to the mausoleum in the grave’s center.

“In that case, I shall prove my ability!”

“Uh,” I said. “We … should probably go after him?”

By the time we moved, the cervid had torn the door to the mausoleum open and was stomping on in.

“Hey! Wait!” I called after him.

Our whole group, Howard included, squeezed through the doorway into what looked like a rather tiny building on the outside, but the moment we were within, we were all able to stand up straight. The ceiling was even arched enough in the middle that my ears didn’t rub against it.

You are entering the Depths of Insmouth.

Dungeon level 8–10

Your entire party has entered the dungeon.

Seal dungeon until exit?

Amaryllis grumbled something. “I’m going to create an instance for us. Including that moron up ahead. We don’t want any more people interfering if we can avoid it.”

“You’re including him?” I asked.

“You’d whine if we didn’t save his foolish behind,” Amaryllis said.

“Folk in town ought to know better than to come in here without me or one of the others used to running the dungeon,” Howard said. “And the other divers know that we’re moving in as a group today. They’ll keep an eye on things.”

“That’s wonderful, thanks,” I said to Howard. I hadn’t really considered all that. What if a child chose to sneak into the dungeon today, and we ended up breaking the core later? That would be … really awful.

I took a moment to gather myself and make sure everything was as ready as it could be. We had packed light. I had a sling bag over one shoulder—courtesy of Amaryllis, who was very good at adventure chic—and within that I had some necessities for a nice adventure:

• Pack of hardtack

• Can of beans

• Knife and other utensils

• Kettle

• Blanket

• Bandages and a small first aid kit

• Book about plants

And out of the bag I had more things. A couple of health potions, a stamina potion, and a mana potion. A nice knife for chopping things, and of course my warspade and trusty turtle-shell hat. My gambeson and armored skirt were all nice and clean, and I’d even used some extra Cleaning magic on my breastplate and armored bits.

My friends were equally well prepared. Awen wore her big blue coat over some respectable adventuring gear, her big repeating crossbow slung over her back, and her hammer being fiddled with in hand. Bastion had his whole paladin setup, with light armor and his fancy sword by his hip. He definitely looked like the tankiest of us all.

Then there was Amaryllis in her leather coat and her strange harpy pants. She only had her strange wand-knife on her and her magic goggles around her neck.

I was a little concerned about my friends’ lack of armor. Amaryllis and Awen both preferred fighting from afar, when they had to fight at all, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t afford to wear a bit more. I could picture Awen doing all sorts of neat things with her Wyrmgineer and Glass Cannon classes. Maybe a teeny tiny mecha suit? No, that was just silly. Cool, but silly. Amaryllis could definitely use more armor, though. She was a bird person, and birds had lots of fragile little bones. But would more gear make it harder for her to fly?

I set that aside.

“Okay. Our first goal is to find Emmanuel. He can’t have gone far. Then we suggest that he leaves. After that, it’s down to the fourth floor as quickly as we can. We need to clear out any Evil Roots that are mucking about around the core,” I said.