The Pinnacle Warrior

Greely looked up with cataract–clouded eyes, his focus a little to the left of Astrid’s face. The first time that she’d met the man, she couldn’t understand how he could begin to administrate to a bustling Guild like this, but she quickly learned how foolish that thought was. The old man, definitely well over 100 years old given that he was at least Steel and showing significant signs of age, had weathered skin and well tended shoulder–length white hair. The equally well tended rose hedge that surrounded the front and sides of his desk was a reminder of his Class: Druid. Astrid’s guess was that he could see through the greenery, and not in a sense that the leaves were windows. Instead, Astrid and the rest of the party had whispered to each other and come to the conclusion that leaves could function as his eyes. With so many eyes looking everywhere, his vision was that much better than it would have been otherwise, even considering his attributes, as high as they must be.

Astrid couldn’t see what he was working on on his desk, given that the hedge grew tall enough to obscure most of the desk’s surface, even to someone as tall as she was. Her tired mind wandered, and she wondered if he ever did regular paperwork, and given that he had three assistant representatives, and two Scribes beyond them, she doubted he needed to. Did he ever choose to? Was he able to with his eyes? In Purcell, for the first time, she saw what a real delving town was like, and she couldn’t believe that she’d been living in what was effectively some forgotten, undeveloped wild land, a plebeian state. Compared to simple Grom in his inn, spending time in the common room with the brand new delvers, Purcell was incomparable. It was hard for her to understand what kind of things the Guild representative would even have to do here with so much support. Was the majority of his work consumed with communications with the Count and the Guild’s leadership in the capital? Were his duties something else entirely? She had no mind for managerial matters, and she never wanted to find herself behind one of these desks. To have that happen would be an incarceration of the most diabolical degree.

“Astrid, I asked how your delve was.“ Greely repeated his question and tapped twice on his desk with one finger. The rosebush swayed with a rustle in response to his repetition, and Astrid felt herself flush.

“The delve itself was mostly uneventful, except for an error on my part in which I was careless and was hit by one of the Raiders spears early this afternoon.”

“Skill–enhanced hit?” Greely clarified as he threaded his fingers and rested his chin on them.

“Yes. Fortunately, it struck me in the back and it had to go through my pack to get me.”

He nodded and waited for her to continue speaking. She took maybe two minutes to give a report of what they’d done across the four floors they delved, something that she’d had to learn to do over the past months. Maybe it was just this old Druid’s foibles, but he insisted that the party leader of every party give a detailed accounting of how their efforts had gone every single time when they came back from the Dungeon and before they were paid. It was, Astrid learned, a skill to develop, and she was now able to sum up the details he wanted regarding an entire day’s delving in about one minute. Strangely, she found the developed skill helping in her letters to her parents.

“And there is something else.” Greely prodded when she finished her explanation. “Your heart is more anxious than usual. Is it something you wish to share?“ The old man’s creaky voice pressed her, and if she’d begun to have second thoughts about the party’s plan, which she hadn’t, then she would have lost all hesitation.

“There are two of the Count’s guards that have attempted to strong-arm us into giving them additional dues for the fourth time today. We’ve just dealt with it until now, but if possible, we’d like to make an accounting to the Count so that he might do something about it.”

Greeley’s eyes narrowed. “Names?”

“Lars and Gregory.” Astrid supplied, not knowing their Classes.

“Have they taken any money from you until now?”

“No sir. We refused every time they’ve tried. Finally, today, it escalated. Honestly… It was at least partially our fault for that, I think we’ve all just gotten sick of the way that Muti and I are being treated in town.”

“That makes sense.” Greely‘s answer was reasonable, though Astrid got no inkling as to what his actual opinion was. Was he incensed? Uncaring? They’d never know. No matter how she pressed, the man would offer no personal opinion to anything that was reported, instead merely acknowledging and passing reports and questions when asked to do so. Looking at him, there did seem to be some measure of genuine displeasure with what they were reporting, but no outrage, no surprise, no frustration, and what he was unhappy about wasn’t clear.

When Astrid provided no additional information, Greely nodded slowly and then asked, “Is there anything else that they have done that you wanted to report to me at this time? I do have the Count’s ear and will be reporting this alongside other complaints to him directly, so I should be able to voice these as well as any other complaints that you may have at this time”

To Astrid’s shame, only in that second did she remember the fact that the man would have been able to hear the party in the small room where they’d conducted their preemptive meeting. Of course he’d be able to, his mental attributes were going to be so high that he could hear and understand them from less than 50 meters away without any real difficulty. She pursed her lips and looked at him, his stupid kindly face not changing at all despite what he’d just insinuated. Instead, he retained his gentle old man façade as he waited for her to say anything.

“What do you think we should do?“ Astrid asked with a sigh.

“Unhappy people will usually stay unhappy. Those who they have decided are their enemies, or the cause of their distress, will remain, in their minds, the reason for all of the struggles which they experience. There is precious little that can occur that can shift their opinions in any way, shape, or form.”

“That’s not very much of an answer, old man.“ Astrid griped.

“Perhaps it was not the answer you were looking for, but it remains an answer nonetheless. Is there anything else you’d like me to report?”

Astrid squinted at the old man, sure that he was able to perceive what she was doing somehow, but he still didn’t react. Finally, she decided to continue to stick with the party’s previous plan. “No. Nothing for now.”

“If that’s the case, then it was good to see you.” He smiled as he said it, the pleased emotion reaching his voice. Inscrutable old man that he was, he continued, “Now, if I’m not mistaken, Saria should be available to process your trophies and materials. Thank you, and have a good meal.”

The party walked out at that easy dismissal, and Astrid looked at her friends with just the faintest hint of outrage. “What’s your problem? You just hung me out to dry! You all could’ve answered questions too!”

“It’s your job. You are the leader, and your willingness to interact with the grumpy people who guide us is a testament to your suitability for the role.” Benedict‘s answer, like always, came quickly, and made Astrid want to thump him upside the head.

“And on a more serious note,“ Skandr added, “Greely’s intimidating. I don’t mind letting my brave, strong leader fall on the sword of having long conversations with him for me.”

“Beyond being intimidating, he’s also listening.” Astrid grumbled with a nod of her head towards the office just behind them. “His door is open, and we’re not that far. I bet he can just regularly hear us!”

“And that’s why I’ve resigned myself to having all my words get back to him before too long. Klara was damn powerful, but she usually just felt like a regular person. Greely always feels way stronger and scarier than everyone else I’ve ever run into, like he can actually see everything.”

Skandr’s exclamation was echoed by the rest of the party, and, despite yourself, Astrid agreed. That was part of why she wanted backup in talking to him, because there was something about the old man that was just offputting. As they made their way into Saria’s office, the assistant representative smiled, took their materials, and gave them their pay. Astrid found herself chuckling at her own disappointed expectations when, to nobody’s surprise, the heavily hunted Dungeon didn’t have the same payout as the less populated, irregular-filled branch in Kznietch. Each of the orcs paid 7 copper for the ear and usually 5 copper for the other materials, and there were a lot less of them than there were the gnolls.

Even so, the troll fangs provided a welcome boost in their payment, making their total income for their two days of delving 20 silver. Astrid couldn’t help but laugh at her own spoiled point of view, how she complained internally about the party “only” making one gold in pure profit every six days, discounting regular expenses. The weeks spent exploiting the surge of the Dungeon proper’s mana into the branch had truly skewed her perception of a bronze tier delver’s ability to make money.

As was their custom, Astrid flicked a single silver to the other party members to do with what they wanted before pocketing one for herself while putting a silver tenner and an accompanying five–silver piece into the party’s funds. The bag was getting heavy again, after they splurged and spent everything they’d saved on getting her greaves enchanted. Fortunately, they continued to be so careful with money that there was no chance of any of them going into debt anytime soon. With their purses a little heavier, the party walked out of the hall for the Guild staff into the main room where people are still eating, talking, and joking.

The party went and got their meals, thick chops of mutton with a stewed barley that could fill even Astrid‘s belly. A group of other delvers around their level, people who had been in town a little longer than they had, invited Astrid and her party to sit at their table.

“Good to see you.” Astrid greeted with a wide smile. “I see you got home early today. Feeling a little tired and unable to keep up with the adults?”

“Ha ha ha.“ Lonnie faked a laugh back. His retort, whatever it was going to be, was interrupted by his companion, Eustace.

“No, we spent a little bit of time on the fifth floor and decided it was time to come back. You know, show the rookies around here what’s up, how to delve once they pass the level 16 watershed.”

Astra took a massive bite from her meat as she raised her eyebrows at the Archer in the other party. He smirked as he saw he’d gained her attention, then put his hands up and laughed, saying, “Didn’t you want to know something about the fifth floor? If so, you only need to ask.”

Astrid waved a hand through the air, not nearly as concerned as she had been previously about the fifth floor. The two parties shared a friendly rivalry, and if this other nameless party had been able to get into the fifth floor and come back while laughing about it, then Astrid and her people would be fine. In addition, if there was anything that Astrid and her party needed to know, Eustace would tell them without any real issue. This group of five men, who couldn’t seem to decide if they wanted to name themselves the Verdant Wind or the Ethereal Sky, were in the Dungeon nearly as much as Astrid and her party were. They allowed themselves one full day off every week, but otherwise, they were in the Dungeon all the time, and Astrid had quickly found kindred souls among them.

She welcomed the opportunity to joke around, since that took her mind off of the conversation with Greely.

Despite all of her words before, Astrid still found herself concerned about Lars and Gregory. Not because she thought they would harm her, but because, didn’t everybody deserve a second chance sometimes? She knew that they’d already gotten second and third chances, but her heart remained soft. With her heart not in it, Astrid didn’t engage in much of the conversations that occurred at the table, but she enjoyed the camaraderie and joking, which even Muti took part in. Most of that was ripping into Skandr to try to convince him to practice his knife throwing with her, which he’d already promised. It made Astrid smile to see Muti  had found people who, even if they weren’t close friends by Astrid’s standards, could be considered friendly to her. A part of Astrid wondered if maybe that would be enough to keep the Barbarian from wanting to return to the Hordes, but there was no saying what could and couldn’t do that.

“Astrid, there’s a letter for you.“ Erin, one of the waitresses, carried a folded envelope in her hand. She held it out to Astrid, who nodded with a smile.

“How much is it this time?“

“One silver.“

Astrid whistled through her teeth in surprise at the price. That was more than twice what it usually was, and as Astrid cocked her head and eyebrow, Erin shrugged.

“Supposedly there was something to do with a rush order. If you have a problem, take it up with him. Messenger, by the name of Trisk.”

“Well, I can pay. Just weird that I’m getting a rushed delivery for anything. Guess I won’t use him moving forward, if he’s always so expensive.“ Astrid handed over the silver she’d only just pocketed before and took the letter, putting it in a pouch hanging on her side.

“Isn’t today the day that you were expecting a letter?” Skandr pointed his fork at Astrid as he asked as much. “How does that make it a rush?”

“Didn’t we just establish that I have no idea?” Astrid groaned as she leaned against the back of her chair. Despite her forced nonchalance, she felt her anxiety spiking. As she looked at the front of the envelope, she saw written in plain letters that it was from her mother in her mother’s handwriting, so why would her mother have put this extra effort and money into this particular letter over all the rest? Was there some worrisome change of events occurring far away that would impact Astrid? Was the war now turning in the favor of the Barbarians and against Humanity’s Bulwark? Was she in danger? There was so much that could have gone wrong that she didn’t even know what to be worried about. Despite her fight to keep herself from being overwhelmed with concern and panic, Astrid quickly lost her appetite. She scarfed down the now bland food as fast as she could manage, washing it down with a fruity juice she couldn’t taste. And she was done, she pushed away from the table, bid her good nights, and walked to her room.

“I’d like to be in the room as you read it, if that’s all right. That way you can tell me if there’s anything that applies to me? Or maybe I can just offer comfort?” Skandr was the first to join her, though the rest of the party was not far behind. Benedict walked away from his plate, leaving it still partially laden with food, and with a comedic near unhinging of her jaw, Muti stuffed the food in her mouth before she, with her sharp, jagged teeth, shredded the food enough to swallow again and again, the movement visible down her throat. At last, she stood at a table full of empty plates and followed her party.

“Yeah, you can come.” Astrid answered, making her way up two flights of stairs and then down the hall to her room, which she unlocked with her key and walked in. On the far wall was her bed and on the right was a small table with five chairs. The room had five doors leading out of it, one to the hall and each one of the rest leading to one of her companions’ rooms, another feature of Purcell’s Guild’s infrastructure—the party leader had a bit of extra space in their room to ensure that they could conduct private meetings without advertising it to the rest of the Guild.

In an effort to calm herself, Astrid went through the motions of removing her armor, taking measured breaths through her nose and out her mouth to center herself. The routine helped a little, but not much, and Muti helped with unbuckling the straps on her greaves while Astrid stripped herself down to her gambeson. The quilted garment was filthy, the hole in the back obvious is Astrid pulled over her head, and when it was gone, she nearly gagged at the smell. Her entire body reeked from sweat, blood, and everything else that happened and covered delvers while in the Dungeon. Putting her hand on her upper thigh just below the curve of her rear, Astrid felt the blood-encrusted leggings she wore, and made a face. Then, with a shake of her head, she turned her attention away from getting herself clean. Instead, she grabbed the pouch with shaking hands, reached in, and pulled out the letter.

Unlike with every other letter she received from her parents, there was none of her father‘s handwriting to be found. Astrid’s heart dropped as she struggled to read the words, looking front and back, and seeing that, yes, her father had not written a single word. Has he died? Been taken? Astrid had to press the paper flat to the table to steady it enough to read what it said.

My daughter,

Reach level 20 in the next two months. Save every copper you make, and make sure you do not reach the experience threshold to iron. The Wandering Trials have been found…

Her mother‘s words continued to fill the page, explaining more, but Astrid didn’t need to read them. The shaking in her hands from fear regarding her father‘s potential fate were replaced by trembles of excitement. She looked at her party with a smile, their faces expectant.

“The Wandering Trials have been located!”