Lott’s POV

  “The Assignment you have requested has been validated and accepted. The extraction is currently in progress and the target is expected to arrive in Rivergate within the next five days. You will be informed if anything goes awry. As for payment, after bidding and after the guild’s share, you will owe 10,000 plats to be delivered within the next five days.”

  The price-tag cut off his breath like a fist to the guts and for a second, Lott stood there, completely stunned as he stared into Miss K’s interested and completely fake expression as she watched the spars below. She had isolated them to deliver her message so he couldn’t hear any of the explosions or bolts of lightning going on outside. But the flashing lights helped him recover.

  Once he caught himself, Lott blinked and looked away from her, vaguely noting Thalia discussing her match with the mage she’d just fought while Brie continued her own spar. He looked just in time to see her change places with one of her illusions and catch the young man fighting her with a Force Bolt to the back of the head, which was captured by the protective ring and considering it would have knocked the Seeker unconscious, Brie’s own ring lit up green, announcing her as the winner. Much like the Vanguard’s Guild, The Seekers’ Guild had their own training spaces. Some were private, while others made a show of it. Lott was pretty sure it had to do with the explosions and everything else Seekers could throw at each other.

  Then his mind snapped back to the price-tag and he felt his throat close up. Did Miles have that kind of money? It took him a whole other five seconds to realize why he felt a noose around his neck.

  “Why… has the assignment been enacted before I could provide the funds?”

  The Shadows’ guild didn’t take missions on credit. And this was a lot of credit. 10,000 plats was rich retirement money. He had nowhere near that kind of funds at his disposal. Something else was at play. Of that he was sure.

  Miss K’s lips quirked as she clapped, maintaining the illusion of interest in the matches below before giving him an amused sidelong glance. “Because if you—or your benefactor—don’t pay up, then we’d let someone else pay for it and deliver the cook to them.”

  Lott let out a slow breath then nodded. There it was. She did say there was interest around the Torchbearer when he’d gone to talk to her about his retrieval. They allowed him first rights to get the man safely and all that, but if he didn’t pay out, they’d find someone else.

  “Five days is good. I’ll have the funds by then,” Lott said, looking down at a wasp that crawled on the chair in front of him. Next to him, Miss K stood up and smiled down at him. “Perfect. As always, if you have intel to provide, we can look into reducing the price a little. You know where to find me,” she said with a small nod before climbing down the stairs and slipping out the nearest exit.

  The training court was like a mini-stadium held within the guild’s compounds. Tiered seats surrounded four square rings—which could be fused into one large ring if the hosted event warranted it.

  “I hope he shows up soon,” Lott muttered as he got up and joined the girls down below. He’d been on baby-sitting duty for the last four hours and so far, he was pleasantly surprised. Well. If he could call what he was doing “baby-sitting”. The real baby-sitters were watching them from the other side of the space. Which Miss K had pointed out to him.

  The Inquisitor’s people… but it’s not like I can do much about that, he muttered, only a little miffed at having been involved in such a mess. He hoped he wouldn’t come out of all of this empty handed.

  Oh well. The dice have been thrown already. He could only wait to see how they fell.

  Turning his attention back to the girls, he considered what he should put them through. During their breakfast, they talked a bit about the early couple of floors and what preparation they were supposed to have gone through, but Lott realized they hadn’t been slacking. To his estimation, both of them should easily make it to the 3rd floor on their first delve. Maybe even the 4th. They were aware of most pitfalls and recommendations—such as not wasting storage on water and having enough waystation-bound return scrolls.

  They were ready. Individually. Their main issue was that they had no team and seeing them getting started on another set of spars, he hoped they’d figure that out soon. Hiring contractors for the first couple of floors was viable enough until they gained a few tiers, but that wasn’t viable in the long-term.

  I guess we’ll keep doing this for a few more days, and visit the other guilds often. Maybe they’ll meet some newbies they get along with, he thought. Which made him think that maybe it was time for him to find a team and resume his delving.

  Stealing a glance toward the Inquisitor’s agents, Lott grit his teeth. Being so powerless within other people’s machinations was getting old. And fast.

  ***

  George’s POV

  Sitting down at an outside table facing the Seekers’ Guild, George calmly sipped down on his tea while Hazel silently peered through the eyes of her many wasps. As for him, his single eye scanned the entrance and their surroundings carefully. Unsurprisingly, it turned out that Miles had been correct to be wary and right now, George was hoping the threat had not been underestimated.

  Within the hour of the start of their watch, almost as soon as the Inquisitor’s departure through the Dungeon gate had been confirmed, he’d noticed the first tail. A normal looking woman with dark hair, haggling over gear while the three in his charge had been having breakfast. That woman then proceeded to always be in his sight. Far enough for the Inquisitor’s agent to miss her, but close enough to keep an eye on her targets and now, a new pair of strangers settled in across the busy plaza. Just like George and Hazel, the agents had found some outdoor seating and being this close to the Seekers’ Guild, there were plenty of spots where one could grab a drink or a meal. Or both.

  Burning mana tended to make one hungry, after all.

  But while George’s innately powerful sight allowed him to keep track of all of these characters without having to focus on any particular area—especially the Guild itself and its public entrance—he could feel his attention slowly thinning out and while multiple of the wasps Hazel had taken over were inside, keeping an eye on the trio, George was considering blowing their cover and joining the others. Just in case.

  At least the guild’s got good security, he thought. Thanks to their specialty, the Seekers’s guild was especially difficult to infiltrate, with all the protective and detection warding all throughout the property. It made his job a little easier.

  “That wasn’t one of ‘em,” Hazel finally reported, speaking about the stranger who’d approached Shadow Lott, the one with Hazel’s mark. “She’s just a friend of the Shadow.”

  George nodded and relaxed his shoulder, if only a little.

  “As for our new friends… They feel like they’re in their low 20s. Tier-23 at most, unless they’re really good at hiding it. Enough for us to handle if that’s all of ‘em. But there might be more. As for your suggestion, it’s quiet inside. Only a few spectators, all in all. We’d stick out like sore thumbs. Your call.”

  George clicked his tongue. That wasn’t ideal. “Let’s wait. Tell me if anything changes or if our charges are on their way out. As for our fellow watchers, so long as it’s only three of them, we’re still okay. But once Miles’ sister is outside the Seekers’ protection, we partner up with the Inquisitor’s agents instead of working separately. Whoever’s responsible for this, they’re coordinated,” he said as he stealthily examined the individuals in question. The first one—that first showed up as the haggling Delver—was now reading a book on the edge of the fountain, wearing a flowery dress and a sun hat that hid some of her features as she read a book. As for the other two, they were holding hands, as if on a date, but there was no denying their occasional gaze on the sundress-wearing woman. They were waiting for a signal. “Wish they wore some recognizable color, though,” he muttered, which got him a grunt from the witch as he smiled and gesture toward his empty cup.

  “That’d make things too easy. I’m still listening, but they haven’t said anything worthwhile just yet. Just idle chatter. As for the one near the fountain, she’s quiet. There’s definitely a little illusory work at play.”

  George eyed her for a moment as he leaned back and thanked the waitress. “I bet it’s the eyes. She’s likely staring at the guild’s entrance.”

  “Yeah. It’s around the eyes,” Hazel confirmed after a few moments as she paged through the gardening manual she’d “borrowed” from a Take a book, Leave a book stand—something George hadn’t known about but which he appreciated—and she was scribbling in corrections and suggestions in the margins. “They’re still sparring inside, so we’re okay for now.”

  “Good,” George said, grabbing a bit of bread and spreading some butter on it. “Did he leave you a way to contact him?”

  “No.”

  The miniaturized giant popped the bite in his mouth and chewed, humming. That…wasn’t great, he decided as he eyed the mysterious agents for a few moments. Keeping their business out of the guild means they don’t want to attract attention. The fact that reinforcements have arrived also means this isn’t just about a simple surveillance operation. They either intended on a capture or worse, both of which were unacceptable.

  “As soon as your anchor moves inside, we intercept them. I’m getting a bad feeling about this.”

  Hazel’s pen stopped scratching against the paper for a second, then resumed right as she gave him a small nod.

  “Apologies for interrupting. May I join you?”

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  The pen stopped scribbling again, and George slightly tilted his head to the right, a spike of alarm going through him. He had made sure to put his back against the wall just so no one would come from directly behind him. But the mundane-looking young woman had somehow managed to sneak up on him. On both of them, actually, if he was interpreting Hazel’s expression right. But the witch was quick on her feet, and a big inviting smile spread on her lips as she closed her book shut.

  “Of course. Please. Have a seat,” the witch said, gesturing to a chair between her and George, while he only nodded.

  “I appreciate it,” the stranger said. To him, she looked like any other bystanders out on the street, running errands. She was wearing a simple white shirt and canvas-looking pants that a city courier would wear, with a bland, green, woolen cloak on her back. But her eyes were anything but. They were pale yellow, and slitted. Like a reptile’s. Hidden behind an illusion, of course, but whether she was the one who’d cast that or whether she was wearing something to hide them, he could see through it. He was suspecting the latter, as enchanted items can be hamstrung by the proficiency of their creator. Not to mention, his read from her core—or lack of thereof—was unnerving him.

  “How can we help you, miss?”

  The stranger gave Hazel a wide smile and dipped her head. “Call me Mera. And what should I call you two? I have to admit, this is my first time meeting such powerful, sentient summons.”

  Hazel just laughed, but George could tell it was a little nervous as for him… well. Suffice it to say, his alarm was quickly ratcheting up.

  “You can call me Hazel, and this is George. To whom do we have the pleasure of speaking to? You’re airing out our private business here, so I do hope you intend on give us something in return? Maybe tell us to what we owe this pleasure?”

  Hazel was all smiles, but her tone still nearly made George squirm though he hoped she was still watching their charges and not getting distracted by the stranger. He approved, of course. Cowing in front of this stranger would spell trouble, but Hazel was riding the line perfectly. As for him, his gaze was still squarely on the entrance and on the foreign agents. And now also on this Mera, who was smiling ruefully at Hazel’s barbed words.

  “Of course. Well, to save us all time, I was only here to visit as I hoped to meet someone, but things got in the way and unfortunately, they are still getting in the way. I believe you’re watching over the individuals that had been invited by the Inquisitor?”

  George glanced at her quizzically, intending to communicate denial, but Mera didn’t seem to be looking for confirmation as she flagged the waitress. “Well, I will be calling off this… misguided attempt. Save you—and me—the trouble of pissing off another Custodian.”

  George blinked, and Hazel tilted her head. “Were you going to finish that sentence?”

  Mera laughed at that, stopping only when the waitress showed up a couple of seconds later. As far as he could tell, neither of them had reacted to that last term. Any other reaction would have confirmed that they had a connection to a Custodial skill. That didn’t mean the possibility was ruled out and from her laugh, she knew they either really didn’t hear it, or they heard it and immediately denied. The suspicion was still on the table, but they didn’t need to give the woman any proof.

  “Ah, apologies. I lost my train of thought,” she told them, as if nothing had happened, but both George and Hazel knew what they were dealing with. “You two are clearly working for a powerful backer. One that I don’t know. And I like knowing people. Especially those that can rile up the Registry and its enemies so quickly. So here’s my offer. I’ll take the Exchange’s dogs with me, but make sure you tell your master that Mera from the Keepers wants to meet him. Or her. They can ask for me at any location of the Shifting Exchange.”

  George did not like the sound of that. Unlike the Shadow’s Guild and their side-hustle, the Exchange had both deeper pockets, a wider network of connection, and many more specialists to call upon. Was this them making a move or was someone else pulling the strings?

  And Keepers? I haven’t heard of them… But considering she’s a Custodian herself, I’m getting an inkling where that name is coming from.

  Before her order was brought, she gave them a big smile and got up. “It was a pleasure, Hazel. George.”

  And then she left, without giving them time to respond. Hazel and George shared a look, and almost simultaneously, he watched as the three agents that had been hovering around the guild get up and leave, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

  “Inside?” he asked.

  “They’re talking about the first few floors while the girls rest. They’re getting ready to leave for lunch.”

  “Any clues on her tier?”

  Hazel gave him a sidelong glance, then shook her head as she scribbled something on a piece of paper. “More than we can handle,” she said, then extended the note.

  She’s a Custodian on the surface. That means at least tier-30.

  George leaned back, feeling a little clammy. If this Mera had wanted to cause trouble, they most likely would have been caught with their pants down. But no need to take any further risks. “We coordinate with the Inquisitor’s. Just in case.”

  Hazel nodded quietly, and a moment later, the waitress came back, glanced around in confusion, then just put the drink before leaving.

  It was a thin, tall glass, with red flaming cocktail that made the whole thing look like a torch.

  George and Hazel shared another look.

  This Mera was trouble.

  ***

  Miles didn’t stop at the Shattered Depth’s waystation, walking past the over-priced merchandise with nary a look as he continued trudging down toward the gate.

  At the bottom of the chasm, the path narrowed to a flat stretch that then snaked down until it opened up in a wide cavern that might have once been an underground lake but nowadays, it was a small but bustling settlement that would be the last chance for Delvers to re-stock and prepare before they had to face the Burrow and the Hive for a simple reason: this was where the Dungeon began showing its teeth.

  Looking into the pitch darkness of the Burrow—which he could see through just fine—Miles walked quietly, enjoying the silence of the maze of dug-out tunnels. The darkness muffled sounds, but he could hear the scuffling here and there though so long as he didn’t light up a torch, he would likely not anger the local fauna, so he kept walking and whenever a tunnel lead up or down, he retraced his steps until he found a level tunnel. He wasn’t worried much about time. He’d made plenty of it in the 3rd. And just like on the third, when he found a party struggling against the pissed-off, massive moles of the floor, he gave them a hand in exchange for the carcass.

  By his estimate, it had taken him around a couple of hours to get through the floor, which was a little worse than the 5 minutes or so the Chasm had taken, but he was making good progress.

  The 5th waystation was a little smaller, but it was well protected. In the final tunnel that contained the gate, a wide side-cave had been dug out and a warehouse was built within it, windowless and pitch black, with a double door to not let either the light or sound out. While the construction had plenty of protective warding to repel the local fauna, it wasn’t worth the trouble of aggravating the beasts. Sooner or later, the centipedes and moles would fray the protective warding, and the Registry would need to double their maintenance efforts lest the monsters destroyed it.

  Miles hadn’t stopped at the 5th’s town. He took the gate and moved on, and he was glad to get some lights back.

  As he sensed the Custodial key take in the environment and change, Miles admired the environment for a second while he moved his reset point. The Hive was much easier on the eyes, with its glowing clumps of small-capped mushrooms and its loamy, soft soil. But it was no less dangerous. Of the two floors, this one was the one that killed the most, and for a simple, 6-legged reason.

  A few yards away from him, at the lip of the tunnel that led out of the chamber the Dungeon dropped him in, Miles noted a pair of antennas twitching and waving as a dog-sized, black ant stared at him with its glowing blue compound eyes, which matched some of the rings around its thorax as well as the mushroom that lined the walls.

  Miles didn’t twitch a muscle. The Myco-worker’s vision was not that great, but he didn’t need to rile up the hive just yet. In fact, he was pretty lucky that hadn’t been a scout.

  The two stared at each other for a few more seconds, then the ant looked away and regurgitated a little bit of glowing liquid that it smeared on an empty stretch of the wall before it moved down the tunnel.

  Well, that was close, Miles thought. Scratching the back of his neck, he considered his options. While he’d love to grab a few queens—both for Aunt Seren’s elixir and to get some good reagents for himself as the queen made some pretty good mental stimulants—he didn’t want to spend too much time down here and if he riled the hive up, while not dangerous to himself, it could put whomever else was down here at risk. Plus, the ants would stopper out the tunnels if he’d been barreling through them. It was just a pain in the ass, so he’d grab a scout if he saw one, as they were the closest to a Queen or to her guards, or, if he was lucky, he’d find a mantis near the exit.

  With his plan in place, Miles got moving.

  Navigating the hive was simple enough. You had to find the paths leading upward. Going down meant you were approaching the Queen’s chambers. Going up meant you were heading toward the exit. But while finding one’s way was simple enough on this floor, doing it without kicking up a storm was the challenge, so Miles had to do it quietly and stealthily. But he wasn’t wasting an elixir on this.

  In the end, he saw the first root piercing through the walls within an hour or so, and in that hour, he managed to nab a scout—which was nearly half as big as a soldier but thrice as fast—then made it out of the hive without a drop of maddening, pheromone-charged ant blood hitting the soil and right when the warehouse-waystation construction came into view, something deep inside Miles screamed at him to move.

  Having spent years navigating the treacherous floors of the Dungeon, Miles immediately listened and dodged back into the tunnel, activating his Skills, but it was too late.

  There was someone behind him already.

  Pain tore through his chest and blood spurted as black, glowing spearhead punched through his back and out of his ribcage like a skewer through a cherry tomato and before he could realize what happened, his vision violently lurched and he lost sensation from anything below the neck. His throat burned as poison crawled up his veins, and his eyes began to dim at the side while his shock quickly transmuted to anger when a hand grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up.

  “Shame,” he heard someone behind him say, but Miles couldn’t turn and in any case, he was focused on the one in front of him. While he couldn’t see the face, he recognized the black and red outfit.

  “There you are. A bit younger than expected, for someone so… notorious,” the modulated, saccharine voice spoke, making him bare his teeth. He reached for his words, but no sounds escaped his lips, and a raspy chuckle wafted off from below the pitch black hood, as an ominous, black dagger lifted in the bishop’s off-hand. “You’ve crossed the wrong institution, little thief, and we’re not about to watch you ally with the heretics. May the Dungeon make something useful out of your filthy soul.”

  And then there was darkness. An instant later, Miles inhaled, once more feeling the rest of his body, and he was back at the start of the fifth floor, with a little worker ant staring curiously at him from its tunnel while he re-played the events of the violent ambush.

  Taking a deep breath, he cracked his neck, and a feral smile tugged on his lips while the little ant finished inoculating the wall before leaving.

  “I see… Then the Church wants to play, huh? And they aren’t alone, I believe.”

  Scanning the tunnel ahead of him, Miles nodded. “Alright. Let’s play, then.”

  It launches on Tuesday 20th

  Edit about Chapter 28: Working on it, no ETA yet.