Chapter 15

Chapter 15

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The Guild Hall, Phenoc Colony, Medea Island, Kalenic Sea

Later That Night

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Haythem Linus was a man without many scruples. It was practically a necessity, as the life of a gold ranked Guilder was fraught with danger. Often they were given jobs that should have been given to Platinums, but none could be contacted or the job was time-sensitive. Silvers weren't strong enough to survive most jobs the guild was called on to handle, relegating them to Dungeons where they could hone their skills and gain strength from the monsters there.

As such, Golds were the problem-solvers. Wild dungeon pumping out monsters into the surrounding farmland? Golds were called on to solve the problem. Mana mutant absorbed a huge chunk of mana and is terrorizing the countryside? Golds. Someone puts out a bounty, though? Then the Platinums come out to collect it, in order to keep their wealthy lifestyles.

Haythem glared across the crowded bar at the two Platinum parties. The Golds did all the work, accepting every job they were given. They did it to become Platinums too, yes, but that still didn't change the fact the Platinums didn't do anything unless there was big money on the line. Money that the Golds needed to climb the ranks.

He soon found his glare interrupted, a wooden mug shoved in front of his face.

"Glaring at them isn't going to do shit, Haythem. Drink. Don't want to go out without one last drink, right?" The voice of his old friend Bertram joked. He grabbed the mug from his pale, blond friend. In one movement he tilted it back and downed most of the half-decent swill they called beer on this island. He heard the man pull out the chair beside him and fall heavily into it.

Wiping the foam from the brown hairs on his lip, he turned to Bertram and stared at the Mistan man. The eyes that stared back at him burned a bright, shining yellow, betraying the mana that filled his body.

"I cannot fire light from my eyes, unlike you. So yes, It will do nothing," he placed the mug heavily on the table. "Those parties are led by Matha and Litan Gorge. Their father is one of the counts under Duke Medean. They have no need of money. They have no need to collect this bounty. Why are they here?"

Bert shrugged, the robes he wore shifting as he did.

"As far as I can tell, they aren't exactly pleased to be here. This island has none of the comforts they are accustomed to. The food lacks depth of mana. Their rooms are less than lavish. The servants are minimal and not bound to follow their orders," he pointed as he spoke; at the food on their table, the wood-construction bar around them and the homely women serving as barmaids.

Haythem snorted, swirling the beer in his mug.

"They consider anything less than silk bedsheets and willing courtesans a hardship," he smirked. He followed the cruel smile with a frown. "If they don't wish to be here, they must have been contracted. Someone has paid for their service, or otherwise gained it, and wants this dungeon dead. Could have been Plaised himself, wanting to ensure there was at least one Platinum party here," he mused.

"Who cares," drawled the third member of their trio. "From the stories I've gotten out of the local Guilders this dungeon is more dangerous the higher the tier of the party. A Platinum party delved a few days before we turned up and lost two members on the second floor," she finished, sliding into the last seat of their small table.

Flasa was a smaller woman, clad in leathers from the steel-spiked tips of her boots to the cowl that shadowed her face in the candlelight of the room. Haythem himself was armored in enchanted steel. Like all their armor, the materials that made it up had been obtained from mana-rich areas or monsters. They had made the decision long ago to reinvest most of their gold into their equipment. The number of times their armor and weapons had saved their lives made it worth every coin.

Haythem shrugged.

"If it kills them, it kills them. Just means less competition," he stated. He downed the last of his beer. "Tell us, Flasa. What have you learned?"

The mage conjured a ball of light, which hovered in the air above them. It seemed to have some rudimental intelligence, as it bobbed and weaved seeming without input from him. It could be controlled mentally, sending orders in the mana he's supplying to the tiny thing.

Like with the other party I slowly ramped up the monsters they encountered. The Mage's Laser Eyes were incredibly effective underwater. The beams pierced straight through the water and burned swathes of fish at once. An hour after they began their delve, they were still exploring the second floor. A third party entered on the hour and passed through the first floor quickly, leading to the first time two parties had met within my dungeon.

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Haythem was frustrated. They had been walking and swimming through this maze of almost identical tunnels for more than an hour. He would swear on his mother's grave they had passed this intersection at least twice already!

He squinted at the wall, glaring at the marking he had made the last time they'd passed through. A tap on the shoulder from Flasa caught his attention, the hand-signs she used soured his mood even further. As impossible as it seemed.

Party ahead. Intent unknown. RequestingOrders. She signed in a code they had invented between the three of them. Bertram cursed under his breath, the light from his summoned Sprite dimming down just enough for them to see each other. Haythem frowned in thought. Now that he focused, he could hear the other party splashing their way down towards them from a flooded corridor they'd already explored. He signed back quickly.

Meeting. On Guard. Discover Intent. Escape. He ordered. The other two nodded. After making sure their weapons were on display and within reach, Bertram raised the brightness of his Sprite in time for another light to turn the corner.

The three watched as the party of six approached them.

Haythem recognized most of them from the previous night's festivities. They had also been spread through the event, gleaning nuggets of insight into the dungeon from the increasingly inebriated Silvers. The leader he knew rather well. Vert was a man prone to boasting. What did he boast about? Anything and everything he believed worth boasting about.

Wrestling a mutant bear with his bare hands, sleeping his way through the daughters of an entire town in the western region before being chased off, reaching Gold rank below the average age. That last one was often thrown about. It wasn't like he was exceedingly young like some noble scions ended up being. However for a man from a common background, Haythem grudgingly admitted to himself, he was talented.

"Haythem! Is that you?" Vert exclaimed loudly, his voice grating to Haythem's ears. "I though for sure you would have left already. You are not the bravest of men, after all." His tone became more derisive the longer he spoke.

"This Dungeon is devious." Haythem responded, keeping his disdain for the man carefully veiled. "It leads us in circles. The darkness and water does well to disorient and mislead us." He eyed Vert's party members. Like his own, their weapons were on display; ready to be drawn at a moments notice. This was a fight he and his companions would lose, if it came to blows.

"In fact, I believe we've explored enough for today." Haythem declared, bringing a hand behind his back and making the symbol for 'Escape'. "Good luck to you Vert. In this dungeon, you're going to need it."

In the next moment all three activated their crystals in concert.

They appeared in the tent set up around the teleport anchor. Healers approached quickly but were waved off when shown the trio had no life threatening injuries and that they had taken potions for their smaller wounds. The bureaucrats that descended upon them afterwards were more difficult to avoid.

They were separated and made to relay their experiences; focusing on the monster, layout and anything else important they had encountered on the second floor. The guild's lack of information on that floor was obvious, if they were this desperate for anything they could learn.

Within a half-hour of leaving the dungeon the three found themselves at another desk, sitting before the Guildmistress of the Island. She was a very high Gold rank, as far as Haythem could judge. More powerful than him by a decent margin. The unnervingly alabaster skin and black silk blindfold she bore, along with the equally-strong man sat next to her, lent weight to her appointment.

"Thank you for your time this morning. I am Layla Losat, the Guildmistress of Medea Island. This Is Felin, my assistant." She said, waving a hand at the man, who grunted in acknowledgement.

"I've skimmed your reports, but I'd like to hear it from your own mouths." She leant forwards on her elbows, resting her mouth on her clasped fists. He could imagine the eyes behind the blindfold staring at each of them in turn. "Please, tell me of the second floor."

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