Chapter One Hundred and Five. Secrets Shared.

Chapter One Hundred and Five. Secrets Shared.

Ellen pushed her damp hair back, again, as she looked down at the blank sheet of paper that would become her report.

With a sigh and a frown, she leaned back, wincing in discomfort.

The Watchers had recruited her before she'd even taken a path, and she'd reincarnated again, and again, and again. She'd been shepherded twice before, once by the merchant parents of freshers and once by the retainers of a minor noble house.

Being shepherded by Bob was an entirely different experience.

He'd called it a light day, or a short day, and told the group that tomorrow he'd have time to really work with them.

Ellen repressed a shudder.

She was certain that she was going to hear his voice in her dreams tonight.

With only a day and a half spent in Holmstead, she could hardly be certain, but she leaned towards there being no cultists here.

Everyone was as friendly and open as their natures dictated, and nearly everyone had the "Lighting the Path" divine blessing from Vi'Radia.New novel chapters are published on

Bob, she thought, might just be your run-of-the-mill sadist.

For all the yelling and his stones cursed rules, he was an effective and attentive shepherd; she conceded as she pondered the odd man.

He'd told them how to fight with the clubs he summoned for them, and then he'd allowed them to make mistakes, then showed them how to learn from them.

Running her hands through her damp hair, she stood up and walked over to the bathtub, and turned the water back on.

Her muscles ached from swinging that club for two hours, and she clearly wasn't going to get anything done with her report yet.

As she watched the tub fill with water, she considered that the most important thing she'd discovered about Holmstead was that the Curator was Thidwell Orstang, and he'd rebuilt the Dungeon using the same techniques his father had pioneered in Harbordeep.

That had been a shock.

She knew that most Dungeons in these outlying towns were dig and drop affairs, or if their curator was especially skilled and ambitious, central shaft and tunnel.

Holmstead, with its mere two thousand residents, had a Gated Dungeon. What's more, it was thirty-four floors.

There were so few people using it that there wasn't a schedule. You just logged your delve with the priest on watch.

Ellen shook her head.

The absurd requirements and fees to delve into the Dungeon in Harbordeep were a hardship for the commoners of the city.

Once the freshers he was shepherding returned home, she suspected that Holmstead was going to receive an ever-increasing number of young people looking to gain their paths without draining their parent's funds.

She turned off the water and sank into the tub with a relieved sigh as the heat penetrated her sore muscles.

The Church might even consider sending initiates here.

Bob rolled his shoulders and considered that carrying around a nearly fifty-pound cat wasn't likely doing his back any favors.

He reached up and rubbed Monroe's cheeks, causing the big Maine-Coone to close his eyes and start to purr.

"Good afternoon," Bob greeted Austan with a smile.

"Welcome back," Austan grinned in return, "and this time without a herd of kids following you."

"Time for me to delve for some crystals of my own," Bob said, "I'll be heading down to the twenty-eighth floor."

"How long do you expect you'll be down there for?" Austan asked.

"Two hours," Bob replied with a grimace, "I'll need to work out a rotation for the freshers so that I can delve on my own every day."

Austan pulled out his ledger and marked down Bob's delve.

Snapping the book shut and replacing it in his satchel, Austan said, "Why not just do four hours a day, each group taking a turn?"

"I was hoping to have them pathed and delving on their own sooner rather than later," Bob said, "four hours every three days will trend towards later."

Austan shrugged, his smile gentle as he responded, "I have faith that you'll find your way."

"I'll see you in a few hours," Bob said and headed towards the Gateway, where he placed his token against it, mentally projected twenty-eight, and walked through the event horizon.

He'd asked that Bob be sent up to see him once he entered the tavern. Bob had spent six hours shepherding his three groups and then had set himself up for a two-hour delve.

Assuming he wasn't going to take his meal at home, Thidwell expected him to be along shortly.

Bob's obvious relief upon returning to Holmstead had pleased him. When the man had built a home above Holmstead, he'd been certain that Bob was here to stay, but the confirmation was nice to have.

As the Dungeon deepened, Thidwell expected more and more Affinity Crystals of different types to be found, and he was counting on Bob to provide a path for each one.

His hands clenched into a fist as he contemplated the six Affinity Crystals in his desk. The Path of the Patient Warden. He could taste the power; it was so close.

He needed that power if he was going to stay ahead.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts as Bob walked into the room, his huge cat draped across his shoulders.

"You have Mana Sight and Mana Shaping?" Thidwell asked roughly.

"Yes," Bob responded, "Wh-"

Thidwell cut him off with a raised finger.

He needed the man's attention fully focused.

Thidwell waited.

Bob waited.

Bob frowned, then with a shrug, the color fled from his eyes, replaced by the silvery hue of mana.

Thidwell smiled grimly and cast a persistent effect Mana Shaping, reaching not for the mana that hung like motes of dust in the air around him but rather for the mana inside his matrix.

He pushed the mana out, forming the skill his ancestors had long ago discovered and locked away behind a Geas.

Thidwall saw Bob's eyes move as he witnessed the spell.

Thidwell dropped the effect and cast it again.

He did so three more times before gesturing for Bob to leave.

Hopefully, Bob would understand the meaning behind the unspoken display. It was as far as the Geas would allow him to go.

'Trebor,' Bob mentally projected as he leaned on the wall at the bottom of the stairs that led up to Thidwells office, 'What was that?'

'That,' Trebor replied calmly, 'was Thidwell demonstrating an advanced application of Mana Shaping.'

Bob resisted the temptation to rub his temples.

Trebor wasn't being deliberately obtuse; he was just... a really bad search engine.

Thidwell was... well, Thidwell.

'I think I understood what he was doing,' Bob projected slowly, 'he was shaping his own mana into a bubble, right?'

'Correct,' Trebor said, 'rather than shaping the mana around him, he was shaping his own.'

'To what end?' Bob projected, giving in to the urge to rub his temples.

'Mana Shaping your own mana into a shield around you will reduce the effects of increased mana density.' Trebor stated.

Bob considered that for a moment.

'Are you saying that by casting a persistent effect Mana Shaping, targeting my own mana, I can increase the amount of time I can spend in the Dungeon? Is that how Thidwell does it without going insane and stroking out?' Bob demanded.

'Yes,' Trebor replied.

'Why didn't he just tell...' Bob trailed off, his eyes narrowing.

'He's under a Geas, isn't he,' Bob projected sharply.

'I'm not able to provide you with that information,' Trebor responded flatly.

"No need," Bob muttered out loud as he glanced back up the stairs.

"I'm going to ask you exactly how this works," Bob mumbled, "but not until after I have dinner with my friends."