“Told you, didn’t I?” Lloyd leaned closer with a smug grin. “Jeanne would be back in town soon enough. And look, there she is.”

  “You said within two weeks,” Viktor pointed out. “It’s been nearly three.”

  Lloyd waved a dismissive hand. “Two and a half, then. Only a couple of days over. Doesn’t matter.” He raised his mug to his lips and took a hearty swig.

  This guy was clearly someone who had never let facts get in the way of a good gloat. But, well, it didn’t matter. There she was, indeed.

  Sitting across from Viktor was none other than everyone’s favorite pyromancer, freckles dancing across her heart-shaped face as she ate, drank, talked, and laughed like she had never been out of the loop. She was flanked by Claire and Rhea like twin sentinels, who were visibly overjoyed that their friend had finally come to her senses about the whole “living alone in a crumbling castle deep in the woods” thing.

  The five of them were gathering at a table in the Guild’s mess hall for dinner. A departure from his usual routine, obviously. If it were a normal day, he would cook at home, Claire would come back after work and, assuming she managed to make it through the door without collapsing, they would eat together in the kitchen. But every now and then, usually a night before the weekend, they did this instead. They would dine in the mess hall, where dear sister would blow a chunk of her paycheck on ale and get absolutely plastered. Not going to blame her, though. Her job was stressful enough, and blowing off steam from time to time was perfectly reasonable.

  Tonight, Claire was in especially high spirits. Clearly, Jeanne’s return was cause enough for a little celebration. The plan had been simple: Claire and Rhea would just stroll into the mess hall straight after work, while he would come to the Guild with Jeanne right before dinner. The only deviation was that, on the way here, they had stumbled upon a corpse, wrapped in green and sprawled by the road. Next thing they knew, it had seated itself down at their table, poured itself a drink, and started acting like it had also been invited.

  “Is Alycia coming too?” Jeanne asked.

  “She said she would,” Rhea replied. “But she had something to deal with at her shop first.”

  Well, since Cedric’s party wasn’t around, the blonde could show up without feeling awkward about it. Viktor doubted Lucian or Noi’ri still cared much about that incident, but feelings were feelings, and people didn’t need good reasons to be uncomfortable around each other.

  Not that it mattered tonight. The three kids and their gnoll companions hadn’t dragged themselves back to the Guild yet. They were out there, moping over what happened in the dungeon. Lucian did look marginally less like a kicked puppy when he parted ways with Viktor and Lloyd, but it seemed the boy mage still hadn’t quite made up his mind about whether the adventurer’s life was for him or not. Oh well, what can I do about it? Viktor thought. People came and went in this line of work all the time. At the end of the day, what they decided to do with their lives was their problem, not his.

  He rocked his chair back on its rear legs, resting it against the wall, and let his gaze drift lazily across the hall. Overhead, the lanterns creaked and swayed on rusted iron hooks, their sickly glow throwing long shadows across battered tables and even more battered faces. From the smell of it, they were burning the cheapest oil money could buy, the same kind he had once used to rig a fire trap for Azran and Lahmia. Worked wonders on Dungeon Reavers, not so much for indoor air quality.

  Not that anyone here cared. It barely registered beneath the barrage of odors jabbing at his nose one after another—grease, sweat, spilled ale, soggy leather, unwashed humanity, and a subtle tang of desperation. Strangely, he didn’t mind it at all. There was a certain nostalgia baked into it, memories of the good old days when he was still an adventurer, wafting up with every breath.

  Besides, it still smelled better than the pigsty Alycia called classroom.

  Laughter and shouting rose and fell in waves, interrupted now and then by the occasional crash of tankards slamming onto tables or chairs hitting the floor. Adventurers packed the benches shoulder to shoulder, some still in armor, others nearly half-naked, faces flushed red with drink. Good old days, indeed. Some things stayed exactly the same, even after three hundred years.

  And, nestled among this usual rabble, sat his targets.

  Yes, Dagnar and Brynhildr were here, too.

  He had been genuinely surprised, to be honest. After all, they rarely made appearances at the Guild unless it was strictly necessary. Otherwise, when not out on contracts, they holed up in their rooms, emerging only briefly for meals. Also, the Emberwood Inn offered far better food, and with their coin purses heavy enough, there was no reason for them to be here at all.

  But then, the answer revealed itself when he followed Dagnar’s gaze. The man had been staring at one table the entire time.

  There, eating and chatting, were the four adventurers Viktor knew all too well. Ekon, the bald, dark-skinned Southerner who was the leader of the party. Ba’atar, the giant of a man from the East, who had defied the very law of nature by sitting on that chair without instantly making it collapse. Mandragora, the Druidess who had come here to see whether the forest around Daelin was suitable to set up a new Circle.

  But, of course, Dagnar was not looking at those three.

  No, obscured behind a curtain of dark hair, the two sunken eyes were locked, unblinking and unrelenting, on the last member of the group—Renee, the cheerful young woman with her blonde hair styled in two large buns, bubbling like a cheerful songbird, completely oblivious to the fact that she was the target of someone’s admiration.

  Maybe this is something I could use, Viktor thought.

  As the night wore on, people began to drift. Old groups broke apart as new clusters were formed. Unsurprisingly, Claire threw herself in with the crowd that had declared war on sobriety; surprisingly, Lloyd was not among them. Rhea had found herself chatting with Mandragora, Renee, and a few other women. Meanwhile, most of the men gathered around a table where Ba’atar and some other burly adventurers sat, though they all looked like overgrown children next to the hulking Easterner. It seemed they were gearing up for an arm-wrestling match, despite the fact that the winner had already been decided before it even began. And then there was Ekon, who was having a lively conversation with Jeanne and Lloyd in a corner. What are they talking about? Viktor wondered. But he didn’t get to wonder for too long, as someone else had caught his attention.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Brynhildr had just left her seat.

  She was approaching the table where the men were having their little contest. No, she was meandering. She circled them, slowly closing the distance, all the while maintaining an air of utter disinterest. Was she thinking of joining in? The towering, steel-clad Butcheress of Lyndor, now acting like a blushing maiden at a village dance. Adorable. Viktor chuckled. But amusement had to wait. Thanks to her small diversion, Dagnar was, for the first time tonight, sitting all by himself.

  It was a bit uncharacteristic of the warrior woman, considering she always hovered around her nephew, keeping him close, since they were required to be within twenty steps from each other for the power of the Golden Apple to work. But Viktor could see why she dropped her guard now. After all, no one could stay vigilant forever. For a long time, she had been constantly on edge, seeing potential threats in every corner, and it had taken a toll on her mental state. Just like Claire, she needed to blow off steam from time to time. And this was the Guild’s mess hall. Who was going to attack Dagnar here, with eyes in every direction?

  That worked out nicely for Viktor, of course, since he had no intention of making a scene. He just wanted a little chat.

  “You like her, right?” he said as he strolled up to the sickly-looking man’s table.

  Dagnar jerked like he had been caught red-handed stealing, almost knocking his chair to the floor.

  “What?”

  “That girl over there, the one with the big buns. You’ve been staring at her all night.”

  “I... I wasn’t—” Dagnar stammered, then scowled. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Maybe not.” Viktor shrugged. “Just saying, if you’re that interested, why don’t you just walk over and talk to her?”

  Dagnar frowned. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s not going to like someone like me.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not good-looking. And... I’m not great when it comes to conversations either.”

  Viktor smiled. “Those are not the only things that are important. Trust me, girls notice other qualities as well. You’re an adventurer, aren’t you? Go into a dungeon, do something daring, something big. Make a name for yourself. That surely would leave an impression on her.”

  Dagnar was quiet for a long moment. Then slowly, he nodded.

  “Oh, I see. So that’s why you saved that girl from the bandits. It worked out pretty well for you, so maybe it’ll also work for me.”

  Huh? What is he talking about? How the hell did that have anything to do with this?

  Oh well, whatever.

  The seed had been planted, and that was what mattered. Sooner or later, the tree would grow and bear fruit.

  As Viktor returned to his table, Lloyd dropped into the chair next to him, grinning.

  “Hey, Quinn,” he said, his voice whispery with excitement. “I just saw a stunning blonde walk into the hall.”

  “Is that so.”

  “I’m serious. Absolute goddess. Well, her style is a bit... unconventional. But aside from that, perfection.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “You don’t believe me,” Lloyd said. “Look for yourself. She’s right there. Wait... She’s walking straight to our table.”

  Of course she was.

  Viktor turned to face the newcomer. “You’re late. Everyone’s done eating. And, except for Claire, everyone’s done drinking.”

  Alycia narrowed her eyes. “And why do you think I’m late? I was doing what you asked me to do.” Then, her frown melted into a smug grin. “It’s done, by the way.”

  “Already? I thought you said you had to put in a custom order from Iskora, and it would take time.”

  “If you throw enough money at a problem, it tends to get solved faster.”

  Viktor snorted. “Maybe you should’ve just given me the coin instead of preparing a gift. Probably would’ve cost you less.”

  “Maybe. But as I said, I wanted to give you something I made myself.” She gave him a mischievous glance. “Anyway, now that your gift is ready... what are you going to do?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t ‘what’ me. When someone gives you a gift, what do you say?”

  “Well... thank you, I guess.”

  That clearly pleased her. Her self-satisfied grin spread wide, and she nodded with the air of someone who thought orchestrating his gratitude had somehow allowed her to ascend to godhood. To be fair, she had dedicated so much time, effort, and money to doing that for him, so this was the least he could do in return. Still, as he glanced at that smugness practically welded to her expression, he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. Did she go through all that just to wring those two words out of his mouth? Also, was everyone from Arstenia born with such a punchable face?

  “So... you two know each other?” asked the other Arstenian at the table.

  “No,” Viktor replied. “Never seen her before in my life.”

  “Hey!”

  After that, he introduced Lloyd and Alycia to each other, then he left them. They came from the same kingdom, so they probably had no shortage of things to talk about. Besides, the guy would be more than happy to be alone with his “stunning blonde.” As for Viktor, it was time to go home. It was late enough, and there was no point waiting for Claire. She would continue until she passed out, and then Jeanne would haul her back home.

  He was just a few steps from the entrance when he saw Ekon striding toward the center of the hall. The bald man came to a stop, swept his gaze across everyone present, and raised his voice.

  “My friends, what a lovely night we’ve had together. Good food, good ale, and the best company anyone could ask for. I’d like to take this moment to share something important with all of you. In exactly two days, my companions and I will descend once more into the dungeon. And this time, we’re going to enter the gigantic structure in the middle of the desert on the second floor of the dungeon.”

  That got everyone’s attention. Well, the ones who were still sober, anyway.

  It wasn’t exactly a surprise. For weeks, people had been poking around Khenemhotep’s kingdom of sand. Some had even set foot inside the mortuary complex. But no one had dared cross the threshold into the great tomb itself. So naturally, Ekon’s announcement seized the spotlight in an instant. Though Viktor wasn’t sure what he was trying to achieve. There was no need for the bald man to tell anyone about his plan.

  “Of course,” Ekon continued, “like you all, we’re not without our fears. The thought of venturing into the unknown wears heavily on our minds. So I’d like to extend an invitation. If anyone among you shares our ambition, you’re welcome to join us in this expedition.”

  So that was his angle, huh? Had that also been the point of his earlier chat with Jeanne and Lloyd? But Jeanne looked completely indifferent, while Lloyd was being absorbed in a deeply religious moment with the goddess he had just met. And aside from them, Viktor couldn’t think of anyone else here who would—

  “I... I’ll go with you.”

  That voice. He knew who it belonged to.

  Well, well, well.

  Looked like the seed he planted had grown much faster than he had expected.

  Ekon was speechless. Clearly, that wasn’t the volunteer he had been expecting. Slowly, he shifted his gaze to Brynhildr, who had finally gotten into the arm-wrestling match, destroyed a couple of opponents, and was just about to lock hands with Ba’atar in the final round, right before being interrupted by the announcement.

  The warrior woman was dumbfounded as well. She stared at Dagnar, questioning herself whether she had misheard him. Then, she slowly nodded.

  “Yes, my nephew and I will come with you.”

  “Excellent.” Ekon smiled. “Let’s conquer the dungeon together.”

  The mess hall erupted in cheers. And Viktor was the one who cheered the loudest.

  Celeste.

  [Yes, Master?]

  Tell everyone... He couldn’t suppress his grin. Prepare for battle.