Brett and Josh woke before dawn, the world outside still cloaked in the faint grey of early morning. The air in their room was cool, the faint scent of smoke from the tavern hearth drifting up from below. Josh rubbed the sleep from his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the bed before stretching and yawning loudly.

  “Too early,” Brett muttered from his side of the room, though when Josh looks over he sees that his friend is already out of bed and pulling on his shoes.

  Josh smirked. “You say that every morning.” Looking at his clothes on the floor, he frowns, “we really need to get some new clothes as soon as possible. My jeans aren’t going to hold up to much more of this. Wonder if they have enchanted self cleaning stuff here?”

  “Because it is too early every morning,” Brett replied, yawning as he fastened his belt. “One day, I’m going to sleep past sunrise again.” Smacking his lips together dramatically, he then catches up with his friend's conversation, “And yes. We need new clothes.”

  Josh jumps up, pulling his jeans up. “Not today you’re not,” Josh said, quickly dressing and slinging his pack over his shoulder. “We’ve got a dungeon to kill.”

  Shortly after, they headed downstairs, the old steps creaking softly underfoot. The Bulls Head’s main room was dimly lit, only a few candles flickering near the counter. Barb was already awake, bustling about behind the bar with a pot of steaming porridge and a tray of hard-boiled eggs laid out for the early risers.

  “Mornin’, lads,” she said with a warm smile. “You’re up with the crows. Big day?”

  “Something like that,” Josh replied, surprised to see Barb about, she’d never greeted them in the morning before. He offered a tired grin as he poured himself a mug of water.

  Brett nodded, grabbing a slice of bread and spreading butter over it. “We’re meeting the others at the guild. Heading out soon after.”

  Barb’s expression softened, though a trace of worry crossed her face. “You lot be careful, hear? Word’s been going round about strange things in the forest, and that some of the lower levelled parties were going to hold the line. Keep your heads low and your blades sharp.”

  Josh gave her a reassuring nod. “We will. Promise.”

  They ate quickly, the meal quiet except for the crackle of the hearth and the muted clatter of cutlery. Outside, the faintest blush of dawn began to touch the sky, painting the rooftops of Ashenfall in pale gold.

  When they finished, Brett adjusted his cloak and glanced toward the door. “Ready?”

  Josh took a breath, feeling the familiar weight of his sword at his side. “As I’ll ever be.”

  As they were about to step out the door, a familiar voice called from the kitchen.

  “Oi! Hold up a second, you two.”

  Garrick emerged, wiping his hands on a rag, his broad frame filling the doorway. His usual easy smile was absent, replaced by a tight frown that didn’t suit him. The firelight caught the grey streaks in his beard as he looked between them, eyes heavy with something more than just concern.

  “I’ve been thinkin’,” he said, his tone quieter than usual. “About what you’re all doin’ out there. Part of me wishes I could come with you. Used to be, I’d have been the first to pick up a weapon and stand shoulder to shoulder.” He paused, letting out a weary sigh. “But I haven’t got it in me anymore. These old bones are better off by the fire, I’m ashamed to say.”

  Josh shook his head. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Garrick. You’ve done your part. Now it’s our turn.” Brett nodded in agreement.

  Garrick gave a faint smile at that, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a small leather pouch. “Here. I want you to take this.” He handed it to Brett. Inside was a silver charm on a frayed cord, faint runes etched around its edge.

  “It’s enchanted,” Garrick explained. “Gives a touch of clarity. +3 to Wisdom, if the old enchantment still holds. It was Barb’s once, back when she was adventuring. She won’t admit it, but that charm probably saved her life a dozen times… Alright it probably saved me a dozen times as she had the extra mana to deal with my stupidity.”

  Brett looked down at it in surprise, then up at Garrick, then to Barb “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. It deserves to see the world again, not sit collecting dust in a drawer.”

  Before Brett could protest further, Garrick turned to Josh and reached behind the bar, producing a worn iron helmet. It was battered, clearly old, but polished and well cared for. The edges were dented from years of use, and the inside still smelled faintly of oil and metal.

  “This one’s yours,” Garrick said, handing it over. “Saw me through more fights than I can count. Kept my head on straight, quite literally. It’s still got a little magic in it. +2 to Strength, +2 to Constitution. Might not look like much, but it’ll keep you standing when you shouldn’t be.”

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  Josh took it with both hands, the weight of it grounding him. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll bring it back,” Garrick said, finally letting a smile crack through. “And maybe bash in an orc’s skull or two while you’re at it.”

  Brett grinned. “He can manage that.”

  Garrick’s gaze softened as he looked at them both. “You’ll do fine. You’ve got heart, both of you. Just remember, heroes aren’t the ones who never fall. They’re the ones who keep getting back up.”

  “Thank you, both of you,” Josh said quietly. “We won’t forget this.” Both of them felt touched that the pair had gotten up early just to see them off and give them these gifts.

  Garrick waved them off with a rough chuckle, though there was pride in his eyes. “Go on, then. Get out before I change my mind and start weepin’ like an old fool. And make sure you kill an orc for me!”

  Brett gave him a mock salute as they stepped out into the dawn. “One orc, coming right up.”

  —

  The town still slept under a pale silver haze when Brett and Josh reached the guild hall. The air was crisp, the kind that bit faintly at the lungs, and the only sounds were the muffled clatter of hooves and the low murmur of conversation.

  Several beasts of burden stood tethered outside, their breath misting in the cold air. Packs and crates were strapped to their flanks, food, spare weapons, bundles of timber, and rolls of canvas that hinted at the work ahead. Lanterns hung from posts, casting swaying circles of amber light over the cobblestones.

  Clusters of adventurers milled around, most wearing mismatched bits of leather or chain, the kind of gear you saw on low-ranked delvers. Some were sharpening blades, others checking bowstrings or tightening the straps on their packs. Among them stood a handful of town guards, their polished helms catching the light, spears planted firmly in the ground.

  At the edge of the group were two dwarves, both thick-armed and broad-shouldered, surrounded by piles of tools and planks. One had a short, square beard tied neatly with copper rings; the other’s was streaked with ash and wild as a bramble bush. They were sorting through bundles of wood and muttering in low tones, their voices carrying that gravelly rumble typical of dwarves.

  Josh nudged Brett, nodding towards them. “Carpenters?”

  Brett nodded. “Aye. Looks like they’re serious about putting up a proper defence.”

  The taller dwarf looked up at that, catching the tail end of the remark. “Aye, lad, proper’s the word for it. If that dungeon keeps spewing filth, we’ll give it a wall it can choke on.”

  His companion grunted in agreement. “Won’t stop a real swarm, but it’ll buy time. Time’s worth more than gold when mana’s leaking.”

  Josh gave them both a respectful nod, then glanced toward the guild hall doors, where light spilled from within. The guild was alive even at this hour, silhouettes moving back and forth, the scrape of chairs, the sound of papers being shuffled.

  “Feels like the calm before a storm,” Brett murmured, adjusting the strap on his staff.

  Josh agreed quietly. “Let’s hope we’re ready when it hits.”

  They stepped through the guild doors, the warmth of the hearth washing over them, and the familiar smell of oil, parchment, and steel filling the air. Inside, preparations were in full swing.

  Inside the guild hall, the mood was thick with tension and the scent of oiled leather and firewood. Torches burned along the walls, throwing long shadows across the crowded room. Adventurers stood in small clusters around tables laden with maps, tools, and hastily prepared rations. The clatter of armour and the low murmur of voices filled the space until Rochelle struck the haft of her staff against the floor. The sharp crack cut through the noise, and all eyes turned to the raised platform where Ronald stood. Quickly, several adventurers who were outside flooded into the hall.

  The veteran ranger surveyed the room for a long moment before speaking, his rough voice carrying easily. “Right, everyone listen in. We’ve got a serious situation on our hands. What Perberos and his lot found isn’t some small-time cave run by a few goblins, it’s a full dungeon, and it’s growing fast. That means if we don’t move now, it’ll spill out into the countryside and swallow this town whole.”

  The crowd fell still. A few of the younger adventurers exchanged uneasy glances.

  Ronald continued, pacing slowly as he spoke. “The dungeon’s leaking mana at an alarming rate. Goblins, orcs, even a troll we think, creatures that don’t belong anywhere near here, all are already spilling out. The longer we wait, the faster that mana builds, and when it reaches a breaking point, the dungeon will rupture. Everything it’s been creating will come pouring out all at once. That’s what we call a dungeon break, and when that happens, we won’t be talking about a few missing travellers or the odd monster raid. We’ll be talking about a massacre.”

  He let the words hang in the air for a moment. The only sound was the faint creak of someone shifting their boots on the floorboards.

  “That’s why we’re forming a strike and defence team,” he said at last. “We move out before dawn, follow the trail marked by Perberos, and clear the forest path of goblins and orcs on the way up. Consider that your warm-up. Every kill gives you experience, every bit of strength counts for what’s coming next.”

  He nodded towards the dwarves. “Once we reach the dungeon mouth, we’ll be building fortifications. These two have volunteered to lead the work, we’ll set up palisades, trenches, and a defensive line to hold back anything that comes crawling out. We’ll need every hand for that, whether you’ve swung a hammer before or not.”

  Ronald paused, scanning the crowd again. “Now, I’m not going to lie to you. Without a proper high-rank party, we don’t have the strength to clear the dungeon completely. The core - the boss, needs to be destroyed several times to drain the mana enough for it to collapse back down to normal levels. That’s beyond most of us. I don’t think I can do it by myself without being overpowered. But what we can do is hold the line, stop the flow, and buy enough time for reinforcements to arrive from the next city. If we hold steady, if we fight smart, we’ll keep this town standing.”

  He stepped forward, his expression grim but resolute. “Caistina will be joining us for magical support. No one runs off alone. No one plays the hero. We win this by working together, or we don’t win at all. If you’re party isn’t at a full five members or if you need to join a party, let me know.”

  There was a long silence before a few adventurers nodded. Then others. Slowly, murmurs of agreement rolled through the hall. Someone clapped the haft of their spear against the floor in approval, and a ripple of determination followed.

  Josh glanced at Brett, adjusting the strap of his pack. “Well,” he muttered, “sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

  Brett gave a crooked grin. “Just another day saving the world.”

  Josh laughed softly. “Let’s try not to die doing it.”

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