《Mimic & Co.》 Chapter 1: Deep Waters ¡°Two hours.¡± Thadan¡¯s voice echoed off the cistern walls. ¡°Two fucking hours of walking, and what do we have to show for it? Another dead end¡ªAnyone else¡¯s feet killing them?¡± ¡°If you weren¡¯t wearing those ridiculous heeled monstrosities¡ª¡± ¡°They¡¯re fashionable, Mira.¡± ¡°For a brothel, maybe.¡± Brakar¡¯s light spell flickered against damp granite walls. The novelty of exploring Sweetwater Cistern had worn thin. His arm ached from holding the magical focus aloft, but someone had to illuminate their shame. At least the endless walking is better than fighting monsters, Brakar thought, then immediately regretted thinking it. The universe had a way of punishing optimism in dungeons. ¡°Mira, you sure about that map?¡± he asked. ¡°These tunnels don¡¯t match the layout. Someone¡¯s been renovating without updating the plans.¡± ¡°Wonderful.¡± Thadan sheathed his longsword, keeping the dagger ready. ¡°Just what we need. More complications on a job that barely covers supplies.¡± The guild debt loomed over them all, but Brakar knew that Thadan took it personally. His dreams of founding a legendary adventuring company hadn¡¯t included pest control. ¡°Hey, at least we¡¯re not stuck guarding merchant caravans.¡± Pockets smacked her mechanical compass. The needle spun wildly before settling on what was definitely not north. ¡°Though I¡¯d kill for a proper workshop budget right now.¡± ¡°We can barely afford healing potions,¡± Brakar muttered. The words tasted like copper in his mouth. ¡°Speaking of killing...¡± Mira crouched by the wall, running her fingers over deep grooves in the stone. ¡°These marks. Too big for rats.¡± Thadan barely glanced at them. ¡°Probably old damage from when they built the place. Focus on the job.¡± ¡°Right. The prestigious job.¡± Her spotted ears flattened against her skull. ¡°I told my parents I was doing important work in the city. Wonder what they¡¯d say if they knew their daughter was hunting oversized rodents in a sewer.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a cistern,¡± Pockets corrected, still fiddling with her compass. ¡°Completely different water management system. Actually, the engineering principles are fascinating¨CWait! I think I see something different in the stonework ahead. Maybe a¡ªno, just another crack. Sorry.¡± The steady tap of their footsteps continued. Brakar counted each step, trying to calculate distance traveled. Two hours at average walking speed should mean... ¡°This isn¡¯t natural.¡± Thadan stopped. ¡°We should have hit something by now. A turn, a door, anything.¡± ¡°Could be a loop spell.¡± Brakar cleared his throat. ¡°I read about them in¡ª¡± ¡°In one of your books at Six Spoons, we know.¡± Mira pointed out. ¡°Always with the books.¡± ¡°Books kept us alive in the Copper Mines.¡± ¡°Fair point.¡± She sniffed the air. ¡°But this doesn¡¯t smell like magic. Just dust and...¡± Her nose wrinkled. ¡°Something else.¡± ¡°Define ¡®something else.¡¯¡± Thadan¡¯s hand drifted to his sword. ¡°Can¡¯t. Never smelled it before.¡± Pockets bounced on her toes. ¡°Wait-wait, what if we¡¯re not going anywhere at all? Like one of those carnival tricks where the floor moves under you but you stay in place?¡± They all stopped. ¡°Shit.¡± Thadan let out a low whistle. ¡°That¡¯s... actually possible.¡± ¡°Oh, also!¡± Pockets snapped her fingers. ¡°What if we tried walking backward? Sometimes these old ruins have reversed logic triggers and¡ª¡± ¡°We are not walking backward for two hours,¡± Thadan said. Brakar pressed his palms against the wall. The stone felt real enough, but after so many horror stories from the library¡¯s restricted section... ¡°We could mark the wall? See if we pass it again?¡± ¡°Already did.¡± Mira pointed behind them. ¡°Three marks, half hour apart. We never saw them twice.¡± ¡°When did you¡ª¡± ¡°While you were all busy complaining about your feet.¡± Thadan crossed his arms. ¡°And you didn¡¯t think to mention this earlier? Anyway.¡± He then raised a finger. ¡°What¡¯s that ahead?¡± Brakar lifted his light spell higher. The beam fell on a dark mass in the tunnel. As they approached, the shape resolved into the mangled remains of a giant rat. Its body had been torn apart with surgical precision, organs arranged in neat piles. Blood had soaked into the stone floor, creating a dark circle around the corpse that looked almost black in the magical light. ¡°Well.¡± Pockets swallowed. ¡°That¡¯s... methodical.¡± ¡°Could be territorial fighting.¡± Thadan prodded the corpse with his boot. ¡°Rats can get nasty with each other.¡± Brakar studied the careful placement of the organs. He¡¯d read about similar behavior in certain predators, but mentioning it would only add to their anxiety. Besides, the guild supervisor had been clear¡ªjust rats and maybe spiders. Nothing worth worrying about. ¡°Right.¡± Thadan stepped over the corpse. ¡°Keep moving. We clear the dungeon, we get paid.¡± Drip. Drip. Drip. The rhythmic drip of water marked their progress deeper into the cistern. Brakar¡¯s fingers cramped around his spell focus¡ªa polished crystal that had cost three months of savings. The constant glow illuminated their path, but also cast writhing shadows that made every corner seem alive with movement. ¡°Hold up.¡± Mira¡¯s ears twitched. ¡°Junction ahead.¡± "YAAAS!" Thadan pumped his fist. "Not a loop spells. Point for the optimist!" The tunnel opened into a wider chamber. Ancient maintenance equipment lay scattered about¡ªrusted tools, rotted rope, crumbling wooden scaffolding. A weathered lantern hung from a hook, its glass clouded with age.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Brakar squinted at the lantern. Something about its proportions seemed... wrong. The way the metal caught his spell-light didn¡¯t match the tarnished surface. He¡¯d seen this before, in one of the bestiaries at Six Spoons. A low-level mimic, trying to blend in with abandoned equipment. While the others rested, he quietly murmured something and traced a complex pattern in the air. His magic always carried what Thadan called an ¡°accent¡±¡ªinstead of the standard amber sparkles, Brakar¡¯s spells manifested as spiraling threads of blue-white light. The magic wrapped around the false lantern, and for a moment, reality twisted. The mimic shuddered, then settled into its new form¡ªa perfectly functional lantern. Brakar caught Thadan watching and offered a slight shrug. Their leader had seen this habit before, Brakar¡¯s tendency to ¡°fix¡± rather than fight when possible. ¡°Everyone check your gear,¡± Thadan ordered, turning away. ¡°Mira, how¡¯s our map looking?¡± ¡°Still useless.¡± She spread the parchment across a relatively dry section of floor. ¡°These maintenance tunnels aren¡¯t even marked. And some genius spilled coffee on the legend.¡± ¡°Your father ever mention anything about maze-like sections, Thad?¡± Brakar asked. ¡°If he did, I wasn¡¯t listening,¡± Thadan replied with a tight smile. ¡°Was too busy planning my escape from his ¡®legacy of excellence.¡¯¡± ¡°Oh-oh!¡± Pockets bounced forward, fishing something from one of her many pockets. ¡°I made a thing! Well, modified a thing. Well, completely rebuilt a thing that used to be a compass, but now it¡¯s better because it can detect water flow patterns through stone using resonant frequencies and¡ª¡± ¡°Pockets.¡± Thadan rubbed his forehead. ¡°Short version.¡± ¡°Right-right. Sorry.¡± She held up what looked like a brass compass crossed with a music box. ¡°It¡¯ll find the main water channels. Theory is, the giant rats need water, so they¡¯ll nest near the flow.¡± She tapped the device¡¯s glass face. ¡°Just need to calibrate the¡ª¡± A shower of sparks erupted from the mechanism. The sound echoed through the chamber, bouncing off stone walls until it seemed to come from everywhere at once. They all froze. ¡°Sorry!¡± Pockets whispered. ¡°Minor technical difficulty. Just need to adjust the¡ª¡± More sparks. ¡°Shit.¡± Mira sighed. ¡°Can we maybe not announce our presence to everything in here?¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Thadan said, but his hand stayed on his sword. ¡°Nothing down here but rats, remember?¡± Brakar moved to a shelf of old maintenance logs, hoping to distract himself from the growing tension. Most had rotted into illegibility, but one leather-bound volume remained partially intact. He flipped it open, squinting at the faded writing. Day 147: Movement in the walls again. Foreman says it¡¯s just settling stone, but stone doesn¡¯t move like that. Like something¡¯s [illegible] through it. Put in another request for Silver-rank inspection. Probably get ignored like the last three. Day 148: Lost contact with section 4 maintenance crew. Foreman says they ?went drinking. Their tools are still here. Day 149: Found scratch marks in the [illegible]. Too regular for rats. Too deep for [illegible]. Requesting immediate The rest had been eaten away by moisture and time. ¡°Found something?¡± Thadan asked. Brakar closed the log. ¡°Just old maintenance records. Nothing useful.¡± They pressed on, following Pockets¡¯ sputtering compass deeper into the cistern. The transformed mimic-lantern flickered nervously, but no one seemed to notice. The tunnel widened into their target section¡ªa vast chamber filled with columns and ancient pumping machinery. Water trickled down the walls, feeding into channels cut into the floor. The air felt thicker here, heavy with moisture and something else. Something organic. ¡°Finally.¡± Thadan drew his sword. ¡°Let¡¯s clear this place and¡ª¡± Movement above. A whisper of chitin on stone. Clicking mandibles in the dark. Black shapes coiled between the pipes. And a single, pearlescent strand of venom dripped down, stretched thin in the stale air before breaking apart and hitting the stone floor with a wet ¡®plick.¡¯ ¡°CENTIPEEEDES!¡± Thadan screamed. Brakar looked up just as the first one dropped from the ceiling. It was massive¡ªeasily fifteen feet of armored segments and far too many legs. More followed, falling like horrible rain. Their maws snapped with horrible intelligence as they scuttled with horrible speed to surround the party. ¡°Those,¡± Mira said as she nocked an arrow, ¡°are not fucking rats.¡± The first centipede lunged. ¡°Formation!¡± Thadan shouted, slashing at the monster. His attack merely polished the creature¡¯s natural armor, not even marring the surface. The creature retaliated, forcing him to dance backward or lose a leg to those clicking mandibles. ¡°Mira! How many?¡± ¡°Too many!¡± She loosed an arrow that bounced harmlessly off armored plating. ¡°They¡¯re using the columns for cover!¡± Brakar tried to focus, to recall the proper healing incantation, but a sudden impact sent him sprawling. Pain lanced through his arm where chitin had scraped skin. His spellbook slid across the wet floor, disappearing under a tangle of writhing segments. ¡°Pockets!¡± Thadan shouted. ¡°We need options!¡± ¡°Working on it!¡± She pulled something from her pack¡ªa complex arrangement of gears and springs. ¡°Just need to¡ª¡± A centipede¡¯s tail whipped past her head. ¡°Shit!¡± The mechanical trap snapped shut on one creature¡¯s leg, but three more appeared behind it. The trapped centipede simply twisted, crushing the device beneath its weight. They were being herded, Brakar realized. Each attack drove them further into the chamber, away from the exit. The centipedes moved with terrible coordination, cutting off escape routes one by one. Thadan struck again, this time finding a gap between segments. His dagger sank deep¡ªand stuck. He was forced to abandon it as the wounded creature thrashed, taking his weapon with it. ¡°Fall back!¡± he ordered. ¡°Find cover!¡± They scattered, taking refuge behind columns. Brakar pressed his back against cold stone, trying to stem the bleeding in his arm. Without his spellbook, he was limited to basic healing magic. It would have to be enough. ¡°Mira?!¡± Thadan shouted. ¡°Status?!¡± No response. ¡°Mira!¡± ¡°Bit busy!¡± Her voice came from somewhere to their left. ¡°Found an old maintenance tunnel, but¡ª¡± The sound of arrows striking chitin. ¡°Can¡¯t reach you!¡± Arrow whistled. Cutting air. Aimed for the monster above Thadan. The shaft ricocheted at a wicked angle, burying deep in Thadan¡¯s bicep. He roared, more frustration than pain. Blood spurted between his fingers as he yanked the arrow free. His hand flew to his belt, uncorking a healing potion with his teeth. The red liquid disappeared in one desperate swallow. Movement behind Mira. A massive centipede, segments rippling, mandibles spread wide. ¡°Down!¡± Thadan bellowed. Mira dropped. Thadan lunged. The creature¡¯s mandibles raked across his thigh, opening his flesh to bone. Blood painted the floor in a crimson arc. The centipede¡¯s head snapped sideways, its armored body coiling for another strike. Thadan¡¯s second potion shattered against his teeth. Glass crunched as he gulped the liquid, stem to stern. The gash in his leg sealed, but too slowly. Far too slowly. Why was it closing slowly? Brakar asked himself. No time¡ª The creature¡¯s mandibles clicked with unnerving precision, dripping with his blood. Brakar risked a glance around his column. The centipedes had shifted formation, leaving clear paths between certain columns while blocking others. The pattern looked familiar¡ªlike something he¡¯d seen in that book on swarm tactics. If he could just remember the counter... A horrible ripping sound drew his attention. Thadan staggered into view, his armor hanging loose where mandibles had severed the straps. He still gripped his sword, but his movements had grown sluggish. ¡°The pump!¡± Pockets called out. ¡°We need to protect the¡ª¡± They all turned. The ancient water pump¡ªtheir actual objective¡ªlay in ruins. Shattered gears and twisted metal suggested this damage wasn¡¯t new. Whatever had done this had been here for weeks. The mimic-lantern sputtered and died, plunging them into darkness, broken only by Brakar¡¯s weakening spell. In that dim light, he saw movement above. More shapes dropping from the ceiling, their segments clicking together like horrible applause. ¡°Even copper-ranks shouldn¡¯t fail at pest control,¡± Thadan muttered, quoting their guild supervisor. Brakar pressed harder against the column as mandibles clicked closer. His arm throbbed, his magic flickered, and in the darkness, more centipedes began to descend. Chapter 2: The Long Walk Home A merchant wagon rattled past, spraying muddy water across Brakar¡¯s already soaked boots. He didn¡¯t bother dodging. After the flood that had saved their lives, a little road splash hardly registered. His socks had been wet for so long they might as well be a permanent water feature. The wagon driver shot them a concerned look, likely noting their battered state. Brakar couldn¡¯t blame him. They looked less like adventurers and more like survivors of a shipwreck. Which, he supposed, wasn¡¯t entirely inaccurate. Thadan walked ahead, muttering numbers under his breath. Even without his leader¡¯s keen mind for finances, Brakar could do the math. The repair costs alone would eat through whatever meager payment they might salvage from this disaster. If they got paid at all, given the state they found the water pump in. ¡°Seven hundred for new gear,¡± Thadan was saying. ¡°Two hundred for the guild loan payment. Another hundred for...¡± He trailed off, shoulders slumping. Mira limped beside him, her usual grace hampered by a twisted ankle. Her quiver, normally bristling with arrows, now held three waterlogged shafts that would ?snap if she tried to use them. The sight reminded Brakar of a half-plucked bird. ¡°We could sell some things,¡± Pockets offered from the rear. The usual bounce in her step was gone, her feet dragging with exhaustion. ¡°I¡¯ve got some experimental pieces that might fetch¡ª¡± ¡°No one¡¯s buying waterlogged artifice,¡± Mira cut in. Her tail dragged in the mud, the controlled flicks she normally used to balance now just listless swaying. ¡°Besides, you need those for your research.¡± The single healing potion clinked in Brakar¡¯s belt pouch. They¡¯d agreed to save it for emergencies, though their current collection of scrapes, sprains, and bruises made a compelling argument for ¡°emergency.¡± His own arm throbbed where chitin had scraped skin, the makeshift bandage already soaked through. Another merchant caravan approached. This one slowed as it passed, the guards¡¯ hands drifting to weapons. Brakar expected as much. Four bedraggled adventurers on an open road probably set off all sorts of warning bells. Still, the suspicion stung. ¡°Remember when we thought we¡¯d be famous by now?¡± Thadan¡¯s attempt at humor fell flat. ¡°Orichalcum rank by twenty-five, wasn¡¯t that the plan?¡± ¡°Twenty-four,¡± Mira corrected. ¡°You were very specific about beating your father¡¯s record.¡± The reminder drew a wince. ¡°Well, at twenty-five we¡¯re...¡± Thadan gestured at their sodden state. ¡°Here.¡± Brakar¡¯s thoughts drifted to the mimic-lantern. He¡¯d hoped the creature would survive, but it didn¡¯t. The memory of their escape played back in fragments: Mira¡¯s shout as she discovered the flood controls. Pockets¡¯ manic grin as she jammed her broken compass into ancient machinery. The horrible moment of silence before water thundered through forgotten channels. They¡¯d rode that artificial tide like the world¡¯s worst river rafting expedition. Pockets screaming with either terror or delight¡ªpossibly both. Mira using her natural agility to keep them from being dashed against walls. Thadan somehow maintaining his grip on both sword and dignity. And Brakar? He¡¯d focused on not drowning while keeping his one remaining healing focus from washing away. A remarkably low bar for success, yet he¡¯d barely managed it. A fork in the road appeared ahead. Left led to the merchant''s wayhouse with its promise of fresh sheets and hot meals, right to the cheapside campgrounds where most adventurers pitched their tents. Thadan didn¡¯t even pause, turning right with the resignation of someone who knew exactly how much coin wasn¡¯t in his purse. Thunder rumbled overhead. Because of course it would rain. Why wouldn¡¯t it rain? They were only soaked to the bone, wearing ruined gear, and nursing injuries that made every step an exercise in creative cursing. The first drops fell as they reached their usual campsite¡ªa small clearing just off the trade road where local guards turned a blind eye to adventurers too broke for proper lodging. Other parties had clearly had the same idea, but one look at Steel Tempest¡¯s bedraggled state sent them scurrying to the far side of the clearing. ¡°Right,¡± Thadan said, dropping his pack with a wet squelch. ¡°Let¡¯s see what¡¯s salvageable.¡± The inventory process felt like attending a funeral for their equipment. Pockets spread her tools across a relatively dry patch of ground, and the metal was slick with cistern water, and dark silt clung to every surface, and her beloved precision instruments¡ªsaved for months to afford¡ªsat waterlogged and mud-streaked, their delicate calibration almost certainly ruined. Mira¡¯s bowstrings were a lost cause, the moisture having rendered them worse than useless. She held up her backup strings, which had somehow fared even worse. ¡°Well,¡± she said with forced lightness, ¡°I always wanted to try sword fighting.¡± ¡°Not with my sword,¡± Thadan said quickly. ¡°It¡¯s got enough nicks from those centipedes.¡± The rain picked up, driving them toward shelter. Their usual camp setup involved three tents arranged in a triangle, but two had been sacrificed to their escape. The remaining shelter barely fit four people on a good day.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Today was not a good day. ¡°If we squeeze...¡± Pockets began. ¡°We squeeze,¡± Thadan confirmed. ¡°Unless anyone wants to sleep in the rain.¡± They packed in like sardines, personal space becoming a distant memory. Brakar found himself wedged between Mira''s golden-furred shoulder and Pockets¡¯ collection of salvaged gears. The close quarters carried a mix of wet fur, stressed sweat, and something resembling centipede ichor. ¡°Anyone remember the words to that campfire song?¡± Pockets asked. ¡°The one about the dwarf and the dragon?¡± ¡°No fire tonight,¡± Thadan reminded her. ¡°Unless you¡¯ve got dry wood hidden somewhere.¡± ¡°We could try that heat spell,¡± Mira suggested. ¡°The one Brak used in the copper mines.¡± Brakar shifted uncomfortably, displacing several gears. ¡°Lost the focus for that one. It was in my spellbook.¡± The reminder of their lost equipment killed the conversation. Rain drummed against canvas, punctuated by distant thunder and the occasional splash of passing wagons. ¡°I had a dream once,¡± Mira said after a long silence. ¡°Back when I was just a kit. Wanted to be the first leopard-folk to map the whole world. Had this fancy compass my father gave me, spent hours practicing with it.¡± ¡°What happened?¡± Pockets asked. ¡°Reality. Turns out the world¡¯s already pretty well mapped. Not much call for explorers these days.¡± ¡°Could be worse,¡± Thadan offered. ¡°Could be stuck following in someone else¡¯s footsteps, trying to live up to impossible expectations.¡± The bitterness in his voice hung heavy in the cramped space. ¡°We could take a break,¡± Pockets suggested carefully. ¡°Just for a while. I¡¯ve got some contacts in the artifice guild who might need help with experiments.¡± ¡°The mapmaker¡¯s guild always needs couriers,¡± Mira added. ¡°Pay¡¯s not great, but it¡¯s steady.¡± ¡°The library¡¯s always hiring,¡± Brakar found himself saying. ¡°For shelving and such.¡± They all pretended not to notice how easily these alternatives came to mind, as if they¡¯d been rehearsing them privately for weeks. ¡°A break,¡± Thadan repeated, testing the word. ¡°Just until we get back on our feet.¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± Mira¡¯s tail curled protectively around her ruined bow. ¡°Not giving up. Just... regrouping.¡± Thunder crashed closer, making the tent shudder. Rain leaked through a small tear, forming a puddle that slowly soaked into their already damp bedrolls. No one moved to fix it. ¡°Remember that tavern keeper in the northern quarter?¡± Pockets asked. ¡°The one who kept trying to hire us as bouncers?¡± ¡°Free meals included,¡± Thadan mused. ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound so bad now.¡± ¡°Could save up,¡± Mira added. ¡°Build up a proper gear fund before taking another contract.¡± ¡°Be smart about it,¡± Brakar said. ¡°Like actual professionals.¡± They all laughed at that, though the sound held more exhaustion than humor. The rain continued its assault as night crept in. Their usual watch rotation fell apart as exhaustion won out over caution. Besides, what self-respecting bandit would target four adventurers who looked like they¡¯d already been robbed by fate itself? Brakar drifted between sleep and waking, his thoughts circling like vultures. The mimic-lantern was almost a small victory¡ªconvincing a monster to become something useful rather than fighting it. But useful things had a way of being destroyed in their line of wor¡­ **** A particularly loud thunderclap jolted him awake. In the brief flash of lightning, he caught glimpses of his companions¡¯ faces. Thadan staring at nothing, likely still running numbers in his head. Mira curled around her bow like a mother protecting a child. Pockets clutching a handful of gears, her usual excited energy replaced by something darker. They were all so young, he realized. Not just in age, but in experience. They¡¯d started this adventure with dreams of glory, of proving themselves to the world. Now they huddled in a leaking tent, trying to convince themselves that ¡°taking a break¡± wasn¡¯t the same as admitting defeat. Movement outside caught his attention. Through a gap in the tent flap, he spotted another adventuring party making camp. Their gear was pristine, their movements confident. One of them wore the silver medallion of a higher-ranked guild. The sight should have inspired envy or determination. Instead, Brakar felt a strange sort of relief. At least they wouldn¡¯t have to watch their own slow decline into obscurity. Better to ¡°take a break¡± now, while they could still pretend it was temporary. Thunder rolled again, closer this time. The leak in the tent had grown, forming a steady drip that traced patterns in the mud. Patterns that, in Brakar¡¯s exhausted mind, looked disturbingly like centipede tracks. A sudden gust of wind caught the tent, making the canvas snap like a sail. For a moment, the sound was indistinguishable from the click of mandibles. Brakar wasn¡¯t the only one who flinched. ¡°We should get some sleep,¡± Thadan said, his voice barely audible over the storm. ¡°Long walk back to the city tomorrow.¡± No one mentioned that they could barely afford lodging anymore. Or that their usual backup plan¡ªcamping in the guild hall¡ªwould mean facing questions about their failed mission. Some truths were better left unspoken, at least for one more night. The rain redoubled its efforts, as if determined to wash away their last shreds of dignity. In the darkness, someone¡ªprobably Pockets¡ªbegan humming that damn dwarf and dragon song. No one told her to stop. They huddled closer, sharing what little warmth remained. Tomorrow would bring hard decisions and harder conversations. But for now, they had this: four friends in a leaking tent, pretending that ¡°taking a break¡± meant anything other than the end. A flurry of memories came and went in Brakar¡¯s mind. Memories of how they used to plan their futures over drinks at Six Spoons. Mira sketching maps of unexplored territories on napkins, Pockets describing impossible machines she''d build, Thadan swearing they would get Bronzeite-rank next week. They''d been so sure, so absolutely certain that determination and friendship would be enough. Now here they lay, holding each other against the storm, and Brakar realized what he''d really miss wasn''t the adventuring at all¡ªit was¡­ This. The four of them, together, making even the worst situations bearable just by being there. He wanted to tell them that, to put into words how much these moments had meant to him¡ª Lightning flashed again, illuminating the silver medallion of that other party. Its gleam seemed to mock them, a reminder of everything they¡¯d failed to achieve. Brakar closed his eyes against the sight, but the afterimage remained: success, just out of reach. Chapter 3: Recompense Brakar winced as their boots scraped against Ironweave¡¯s famous bridges, the metallic screech a perfect accompaniment to his throbbing headache. The morning sun caught the iron latticework at exactly the wrong angle, creating a dazzling display that did nothing to improve his mood. Their shadows stretched long across the weathered metal as they made their slow trek toward the Patchwork Post. The city sprawled around them in its usual organized chaos¡ªa patchwork of architectural styles as varied as its inhabitants. Market stalls perched precariously on the narrower bridges, their colorful awnings snapping in the wind. The familiar scents of spiced meats and fresh bread wafted up from the lower levels, making Brakar¡¯s empty stomach clench painfully. ¡°Watch your step,¡± Mira called from behind as Thadan¡¯s boot caught on a loose rivet. ¡°Last thing we need is someone falling through.¡± The humor failed to spark a reaction, just as their spirits remained dim. The leopard-folk¡¯s cream-colored fur was matted and dirty, her usual meticulous grooming abandoned in favor of basic survival during their trek back to the city. She moved with none of her characteristic grace, each step careful and measured to avoid aggravating her injuries. Pockets brought up the rear, unusually quiet. The normally chatty kobold hadn¡¯t spoken more than a few words since they¡¯d broken camp, her fingers absently fiddling with what remained of her prized compass. The constant metallic clicking had become a sort of nervous metronome for their procession. A merchant caravan passed them on the wider section of the bridge, the traders giving them a wide berth. Brakar couldn¡¯t blame them¡ªthey looked like walking disaster victims. Their gear, what little remained of it, hung in tatters. Mud and worse caked their boots, leaving trailing footprints that drew disapproving looks from the morning crowd. ¡°Almost there,¡± Thadan announced, his usual confident tone strained around the edges. ¡°Just need to explain things to Ms. Thornberry. Get our payment sorted.¡± The way he said ¡°payment¡± made it sound like ¡°miracle.¡± They descended a spiral staircase to the lower level, where the Patchwork Post squatted among its more respectable neighbors. The former textile warehouse wore its history proudly, its mismatched architecture a testament to generations of modifications. Windows of varying sizes and shapes dotted the facade, accommodating the diverse height requirements of its equally diverse clientele. The morning crowd had already gathered¡ªfresh-faced adventurers with shiny new gear and untested dreams. They parted like water around a stone as Steel Tempest approached, whispers following in their wake. Brakar caught fragments of conversation: ¡°Is that blood or mud?¡± ¡°Both, probably.¡± ¡°Weren¡¯t they copper-ranked?¡± ¡°Not for long, by the looks of it.¡± The Patchwork Post¡¯s interior hit them with its usual wall of noise and barely controlled chaos. The main hall buzzed with activity¡ªclerks shuffling papers, adventurers arguing over contracts, the constant creaking of wooden floors beneath feet of various sizes. The famous job board hung from its chains in the center, its surface plastered with notices ranging from mundane to mysterious. Ms. Thornberry sat at her usual desk, her weathered green skin catching the light from multiple-height windows. Her sharp amber eyes tracked their approach with the resignation of someone who had seen this particular walk of shame many times before. ¡°Ah,¡± she said, setting aside her quill. ¡°Steel Tempest returns. Though perhaps ¡®stumbles back¡¯ would be more accurate.¡± Thadan stepped forward, summoning what remained of his charm. ¡°Ms. Thornberry, always a pleasure. About our contract¡ª¡± ¡°The water pump contract?¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°The one that specifically requested pest control for, and I quote, ¡®just some giant rats and maybe a few spiders¡¯?¡± ¡°There may have been some... unexpected complications.¡± ¡°Complications.¡± She drew out the word like a sword from its sheath. ¡°Do tell.¡± As he launched into his explanation, carefully crafting failure into something approaching success, Brakar felt a light touch on his arm. Mira gestured toward a quieter corner of the hall, her expression unreadable. They moved away from the main crowd, finding relative privacy behind one of the hall¡¯s many support columns. Up close, Brakar could see the full extent of her exhaustion¡ªthe slight droop to her whiskers, the way her tail hung limp instead of its usual beautiful movements. ¡°I need to tell you something,¡± she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°And I¡¯d rather do it now, before things get any more complicated.¡± Brakar¡¯s healing instincts kicked in, eyes automatically scanning for injuries he might have missed. ¡°Are you hurt worse than you let on? I might be able to¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m leaving the party.¡± The words hit like a physical blow. Brakar blinked, certain he¡¯d misheard. ¡°What?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not because of this quest,¡± Mira added quickly. ¡°I made up my mind a while ago. Been thinking about it for months, actually.¡± ¡°But...¡± Brakar struggled to process this new reality. ¡°Why?¡± Mira¡¯s tail flicked¡ªa subtle but uncommon display of nervousness for someone typically so composed. ¡°I might give hairdressing another go. My parents¡¯ old clients still ask about me sometimes. There¡¯s a market for traditional grooming techniques, especially among the older beastfolk families.¡± ¡°Hairdressing,¡± Brakar repeated numbly. ¡°Instead of adventuring.¡± ¡°Instead of dying in a waterlogged cistern fighting oversized bugs.¡± She attempted a smile that didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°Seems like a lateral move, at worst.¡± Movement caught Brakar¡¯s attention. Pockets stood a few feet away, shifting from foot to foot with uncharacteristic hesitation. The kobold¡¯s eyes were fixed on the floor, her usual enthusiastic energy completely absent. ¡°Pockets?¡± Brakar asked. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± She looked up, her expression a complex mix of emotions. ¡°I... I got accepted. At the university. The artificer¡¯s college, specifically.¡± The words tumbled out in a rush. ¡°I want to keep adventuring, I do, but this is a really good opportunity and they rarely open up spots for new students and¡ª¡± ¡°Pockets!¡± Brakar cut off her rambling. ¡°That¡¯s amazing news!¡± Mira¡¯s ears perked up. ¡°The artificer¡¯s college? That¡¯s incredibly prestigious. When did you apply?¡± ¡°Last season.¡± Pockets twisted a gear between her fingers. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d actually get in. My methods aren¡¯t exactly... traditional.¡± ¡°Traditional is overrated,¡± Brakar said firmly. ¡°You¡¯ll revolutionize the whole field.¡± ¡°You really think so?¡± ¡°I know so.¡± He managed a genuine smile. ¡°And we can still hang out. The university¡¯s not far from The Stack.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Hope crept into her voice. ¡°You¡¯re not mad?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Mad? About one of my friends achieving something incredible? Never.¡± Their moment was interrupted by Thadan¡¯s return. Their leader wore an expression of carefully measured satisfaction¡ªthe look of someone who had haggled their way to an acceptable compromise. ¡°Good news,¡± he announced. ¡°We¡¯re getting thirty percent of the original payment.¡± Brakar stared at him. ¡°Thirty? How did you manage that?¡± ¡°The information about the centipedes has value,¡± he explained. ¡°Plus our initial survey of the tunnels. I started at fifty percent, but honestly? I would have taken twenty.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t think we¡¯d get five,¡± Brakar admitted. ¡°Never underestimate the power of proper documentation.¡± Thadan produced a slightly damp but still legible map covered in Mira¡¯s precise notations. ¡°Ms. Thornberry was particularly interested in the maintenance logs you found. Apparently, there¡¯s been some concern about similar issues in other parts of the water system.¡± The conversation lulled as a group of fresh-faced adventurers passed nearby, their gear gleaming in the morning light. They wore silver medallions¡ªmid-ranked guild members, probably looking for support roles for their next expedition. One of them glanced at Steel Tempest with poorly concealed disdain. Brakar watched them go, remembering when his own gear had been that pristine, when every quest had seemed like a step toward glory rather than survival. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy between the four of them. ¡°So,¡± Thadan said finally. ¡°Who¡¯s hungry? Thirty percent should cover a meal at The Six Spoons, at least.¡± No one moved. Mira¡¯s eyes narrowed. Pockets clutched her broken compass tighter. ¡°About that,¡± Mira began. But before she could continue, a commotion erupted near the job board. The chains creaked ominously as a crowd gathered, voices rising in excitement or alarm. Ms. Thornberry rose from her desk, her customary scowl deepening. ¡°New posting,¡± someone shouted. ¡°Priority contract!¡± ¡°Emergency request from the water commission,¡± another voice added. ¡°Something about ¡®unexpected fauna¡¯ in the northern reservoirs.¡± Brakar caught Thadan¡¯s eye. Their leader¡¯s expression shifted from exhaustion to calculation in an instant. ¡°We should at least look,¡± Thadan said. ¡°With our recent experience¡ª¡± ¡°Thadan.¡± Mira¡¯s voice cut through his planning like a knife. ¡°We need to talk.¡± The job board shifted once more. Steel Tempest stood frozen in their moment of truth, while around them, the Patchwork Post continued its eternal dance of dreams and disasters. More adventurers pushed past them toward the board, their excited chatter fading into background noise. Brakar noticed how none of his companions moved to join them. Instead, they formed their own small island in the chaos¡ªfour friends at a crossroads, each holding a different piece of their shared future¡¯s wreckage. Time drifted in quiet currents through the room, its presence felt in the air itself. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell tolled the hour. Time, like water in the cistern, kept flowing forward, carrying them all toward inevitable change. Ms. Thornberry¡¯s voice pierced through the growing crowd: ¡°Those interested in the northern reservoir contract, form an orderly queue. And please note¡ªthis one specifically requires proof of experience with subterranean fauna.¡± Thadan¡¯s hand twitched toward the pouch containing their new payment. Thirty percent of a failed contract¡ªenough for one last meal together, perhaps. Or a down payment on whatever came next. The job board creaked one final time, its chains settling into a new configuration. Above them, the iron bridges of Ironweave gleamed beneath the shifting sky, their patterns a reminder that even the strongest connections could be beautiful in their complexity. The chains rattled again, an impatient summons to glory or doom. But for once, none of them moved to answer its call. Instead, they turned away, leaving the excited chatter of hopeful adventurers behind them. Thadan¡¯s suggestion of The Six Spoons hung between them like a lifeline¡ªtheir last feast as a party. The prospect of another quest faded into the distance as they left the Patchwork Post, Brakar¡¯s mind already seeking refuge in the familiar comfort of analysis. It was what he did best¡ªbreak down situations into manageable pieces, just like dissecting spell theory or studying healing techniques. The thirty percent payment felt heavy in Thadan¡¯s pouch, each coin a lingering weight of their failed mission. But what weighed heavier was the unspoken tension between his companions¡ªMira¡¯s fur standing on end, her posture taut, and Pockets unable to meet anyone¡¯s eyes. The walk to The Six Spoons traced a path he knew by heart, across three different bridges and down two levels to where the old tavern squatted between districts like a grandmother who refused to move despite her children¡¯s success. He¡¯d spent countless hours in its library corner, borrowing books that helped him understand everything from advanced healing theory to social cues he¡¯d missed growing up. The thought of those books brought a familiar ache¡ªhis own spellbook was still somewhere in that flooded cistern, probably being used as a centipede¡¯s coaster by now. The tavern¡¯s noisy atmosphere greeted them first. Then the layered traces of six different cuisines mingling through the space, and his mind cataloged them automatically¡ªspiced meats from the northern quarter, fresh bread from the human district, aromatic teas from the eastern edge. Each smell carried memories: late-night study sessions, quiet conversations with other regulars who never pressed too hard about his past, gentle corrections from the librarian when his social awkwardness showed through. The Six Spoons had become more than just a tavern to him; it was where he¡¯d started rebuilding himself after escaping his girlfriend¡¯s manipulation, where Thadan had first introduced him to Mira and Pockets, where he¡¯d learned it was okay to trust again. Watching his companions¡¯ drawn faces and noting the careful distance they maintained from each other, he couldn¡¯t deny what was coming. He¡¯d seen enough endings in his books to know what they looked like in reality. The thought of change sent a familiar panic through his chest, but he forced himself to examine it rationally, the way the library¡¯s self-help books had taught him. Sometimes endings were just beginnings in disguise. Still, as they approached the tavern¡¯s weathered door, he wished he¡¯d borrowed a book on how to say goodbye to friends who¡¯d become family. They settled into their usual corner, where the mingled scents did little to ease the tension. Their drinks arrived¡ªthree ales and Pockets¡¯ usual tea with extra honey. A half-eaten loaf of dark bread sat untouched between them. ¡°So.¡± Thadan broke the silence first, rolling his tankard between his palms. ¡°That new contract on the board...¡± ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± Mira¡¯s tail wrapped tighter around her chair leg. ¡°We could at least look at the details. With our experience¡ª¡± ¡°Our experience of nearly drowning?¡± Brakar coughed into his fist softly. ¡°The historical records suggest that most successful adventuring parties actually face several near-catastrophic events before¡ª¡± ¡°Oh-oh! Like the Champions of Dawn! They almost got wiped out by those crystal golems before they...¡± Pockets¡¯ voice trailed off as she caught the others¡¯ expressions. ¡°Sorry. Not helping.¡± ¡°My fur¡¯s still damp.¡± Mira ran a claw through her matted coat. ¡°Feels about as sleek as a hedgehog¡¯s attempt at swimming.¡± Thadan leaned forward, elbows on the table. ¡°Look, I know things got messy¡ª¡± ¡°Messy?¡± Pockets began disassembling her napkin ring, her claws working faster as she spoke. ¡°Wait-wait, that reminds me¡ªI could probably design something to help with the water problem. Maybe if we rerouted the flow through a series of graduated chambers, or¡ªoh! We could install pressure gauges at key points¡ªand what if we added a resonance detector to¡ªI got accepted to the artificer¡¯s college.¡± The silence that followed felt heavier than their waterlogged gear. ¡°Wh¡ª¡± Thadan¡¯s tankard hit the table with a dull thud. ¡°You what?¡± His voice cracked slightly. ¡°Since when were you even¡ªhow long have you¡ª¡± He dragged his hand through his hair, a gesture that would have looked more dignified if it wasn¡¯t still crusted with mud. ¡°Last week. I mean, I applied months ago, but I never thought... and their admissions only happen once every three years, so...¡± Mira¡¯s fur slowly settled. ¡°I¡¯m leaving too.¡± ¡°For the mapmaker¡¯s guild?¡± Thadan asked. ¡°Hairdressing.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Thadan sat back. ¡°Well. That¡¯s...¡± ¡°Practical.¡± Mira shrugged. ¡°Less chance of being eaten by centipedes.¡± ¡°The statistical likelihood of centipede-related fatalities is ?quite low compared to...¡± Brakar adjusted his collar. ¡°Never mind.¡± ¡°What about you?¡± Thadan¡¯s gaze fixed on their healer. ¡°I...¡± Brakar traced a pattern in the condensation on his tankard. ¡°The library always needs help. With cataloging. And research.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Thadan pushed back from the table. ¡°So that¡¯s it then.¡± ¡°Thadan¡ª¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. It¡¯s smart, actually. Very practical. Unlike some of us, still chasing stupid dreams about¡ª¡± ¡°Wait-wait!¡± Pockets¡¯ hands fluttered over her collection of gears. ¡°We could still... I mean, between classes, maybe...¡± ¡°The university¡¯s schedule is quite demanding.¡± Brakar¡¯s voice grew softer. ¡°I¡¯ve read their curriculum guidelines.¡± ¡°Of course you have.¡± Thadan¡¯s laugh held no humor. ¡°My first client appointment is next week. Some noble¡¯s pet project. Wants old-school grooming methods.¡± They all stared at their drinks. ¡°We had some good moments, though.¡± Pockets began reassembling the napkin ring. Thadan raised his tankard. ¡°To Steel Tempest. May we die of old age instead of stupid heroics.¡± ¡°To not dying.¡± Mira lifted her drink. ¡°To new beginnings?¡± Pockets offered. Brakar hesitated, then raised his ale. ¡°To friends.¡± Chapter 4: Signs and Portents The past week had settled into a strange quiet that Brakar wasn¡¯t sure he liked. Without Pockets¡¯ constant stream of technical theories or Mira¡¯s dry observations, the days felt oddly empty. He¡¯d filled them with reading, spending long hours in his corner of The Six Spoons with borrowed books, but even that felt different. His usual satisfaction in learning new healing techniques was dampened by the knowledge that he had no one to practice them on¡ªno Thadan charging recklessly into combat, no Pockets setting herself on fire with experimental devices, no Mira needing burns treated after another ¡°slight miscalculation¡± with explosive arrows. He told himself the quiet was good. Productive. The stack of books beside his bed had grown impressively tall, and for once he could read without interruption. But if he was honest with himself¡ªand he tried to be, these days¡ªit was mind-numbingly boring. Even the familiar comfort of The Stack felt different. The constant creaking of other adventurers trudging up and down the stairs now seemed less like the background noise of home and more like a reminder of opportunities slipping away. His coin pouch was another matter entirely. Each day it grew lighter, despite his best efforts at frugality. He¡¯d switched to a diet heavy on root vegetables and day-old bread, telling himself it was healthier anyway. The copper mines had taught him how to stretch resources, but this felt different. Back then, they at least had regular income, meager as it was. Now each copper piece spent felt like watching grains of sand slip through an hourglass. The worst part was catching himself automatically noting potential healing opportunities whenever he walked through the market. A worker with a sprained ankle, a child¡¯s scraped knee, a merchant¡¯s stiff shoulder¡ªall minor ailments he could easily treat. But without guild backing, offering such services would be... complicated. Legally questionable, even. So he kept walking, his unused magic itching beneath his skin like a muscle begging to be stretched. Only Thadan¡¯s daily visits broke the monotony, though lately those had grown strange too. His friend would burst in with his usual energy, start to suggest something wild, then catch himself and leave just as suddenly. It was unlike him¡ªThadan¡¯s ideas usually poured out unfiltered, regardless of their practicality. This new, hesitant version of his friend was almost as unsettling as the silence. ¡®BANG BANG BANG¡¯ ¡®BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG¡¯ The thunderous knocking jolted Brakar from his studies, sending a carefully balanced tower of borrowed books cascading across his tiny room. Magical theory texts crashed against his rickety bedframe while anatomical diagrams fluttered through the pre-dawn gloom like startled birds. He¡¯d finally managed to organize them by subject just yesterday. ¡®BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG¡¯ ¡°Coming!¡± Brakar called, navigating the literary obstacle course with practiced ease. His room in The Stack wasn¡¯t exactly spacious on the best of days, and with his recent academic pursuits, it had begun to resemble a library after an earthquake. He already knew who it was¡ªonly one person knocked with that particular combination of urgency and dramatic flair. The real question was what crisis had driven Thadan to his door at this ungodly hour. The door creaked open to reveal his friend looking simultaneously exhausted and energized¡ªa combination that usually preceded either brilliant inspiration or catastrophic decisions. Dark circles ringed Thadan¡¯s eyes, but they blazed with an intensity that made Brakar instinctively check for signs of fever or magical influence. ¡°Perfect, you¡¯re awake!¡± Thadan announced, as if he hadn¡¯t just been trying to punch through the door. ¡°I am now,¡± Brakar muttered, noting the way his friend¡¯s fingers drummed against the doorframe¡ªanother warning sign of impending schemes. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°Wrong? Nothing¡¯s wrong! Everything¡¯s right!¡± Thadan¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Get dressed. We¡¯re getting breakfast.¡± Brakar glanced at his window, where the first hints of dawn were just beginning to lighten the sky. ¡°The Six Spoons won¡¯t be open for hours.¡± ¡°They will be for us.¡± Thadan produced a slightly wrinkled paper bag that smelled promisingly of stale bread. ¡°I may have convinced the night baker to sell me yesterday¡¯s leftovers at a discount.¡± ¡°Of course you did.¡± Brakar sighed, but he was already reaching for his boots. Whatever Thadan had planned, it would probably be less expensive to go along with it than to deal with the consequences of refusing. The Stack¡¯s narrow stairwell carried a faint draft as they descended. At this hour, most of the other residents were either still asleep or just returning from night shifts. The communal kitchen on Brakar¡¯s floor stood empty, its worn wooden table bearing the usual collection of mysterious stains and initials carved by generations of temporary residents. Thadan cleared a space among the debris and began unpacking his bag with the air of someone preparing for a formal presentation. Day-old rolls were arranged with surprising care, accompanied by a small crock of butter that had clearly seen better days. ¡°Quite the feast,¡± Brakar observed, settling onto one of the less wobbly chairs. ¡°A meal fit for future business moguls,¡± Thadan declared, then immediately winced at his own words. Brakar paused mid-reach for a roll. ¡°Business moguls?¡± ¡°Well, maybe not moguls exactly.¡± Thadan¡¯s usual confidence wavered slightly. ¡°But... business something, at least.¡± ¡°Thadan.¡± Brakar kept his voice carefully neutral. ¡°What are you planning?¡± His friend took a deep breath, then said something Brakar never expected to hear: ¡°Our adventuring career is over.¡± The words hung in the air between them, heavy with finality. Brakar waited for the usual follow-up¡ªsome wild scheme to revive their fortunes, another ¡°can¡¯t-miss opportunity¡± that would definitely get them above iron rank this time. Instead, Thadan simply nodded, as if confirming something to himself. ¡°Let¡¯s be honest¡ªwe should¡¯ve made it past iron rank years ago. The cistern was just the final proof.¡± ¡°That¡¯s... surprisingly practical of you,¡± Brakar said carefully. ¡°I know, right?¡± Thadan laughed, but there was no bitterness in it. ¡°Here¡¯s the thing though¡ªmaybe that¡¯s not such a bad thing. Being practical, I mean.¡± He reached into his bag again and pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment, spreading it across the table with the same reverence he¡¯d once reserved for treasure maps. It turned out to be a property listing, complete with official guild stamps and notary seals. ¡°We¡¯ve been looking at this all wrong,¡± Thadan continued, his earlier excitement returning. ¡°Everyone thinks you have to be an adventurer to make it in this city, but look around! The real money¡¯s in supporting adventurers, not being them.¡± Brakar studied the document, noting the location in one of Ironweave¡¯s lower districts. ¡°You want to open a shop?¡± ¡°I want us to open a shop,¡± Thadan corrected. ¡°Together. As partners.¡± The proposition hung between them like a spell waiting to be cast. Outside, the first real light of dawn began to paint The Stack¡¯s weathered walls in shades of possibility. ¡°You¡¯re serious about this,¡± Brakar realized. ¡°Completely.¡± Thadan slung an arm around Brakar''s shoulders, his voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper. ¡°Look, I know my track record with plans isn¡¯t exactly stellar¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s an understatement.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°-but this is different. This time I¡¯ve thought it through. Well, most of it. Some of it.¡± He grinned. ¡°That¡¯s where you come in.¡± Brakar raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°You¡¯re the analytical one. The practical one. The one who actually reads contracts before signing them.¡± ¡°Someone has to.¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± Thadan¡¯s enthusiasm was becoming infectious. ¡°I¡¯ve got the people skills, you¡¯ve got the brain. Between us, we could make something work. Something real.¡± Brakar found himself weighing the idea. The idea wasn¡¯t entirely without merit¡ªespecially compared to some of Thadan¡¯s previous schemes. And his own prospects weren¡¯t exactly promising at the moment. ¡°The rent would be within our means,¡± Thadan added, clearly sensing his friend¡¯s wavering resolve. ¡°The neighborhood¡¯s not great, but that just means room for growth, right?¡± ¡°You haven¡¯t even told me what kind of shop you¡¯re planning.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± Thadan¡¯s confidence flickered slightly. ¡°Well, that¡¯s sort of... flexible at the moment.¡± ¡°Flexible.¡± ¡°Think of it as an opportunity! We can adapt to whatever the market needs.¡± Brakar pressed his fingers to his nose. ¡°You want us to sign a lease without knowing what we¡¯re going to sell.¡± ¡°I want us to look at the space,¡± Thadan corrected. ¡°Just look. No commitments. What¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡± Those words should have been a warning¡ªthey¡¯d preceded some of their most spectacular disasters in the past. But something felt different this time. Perhaps it was the way Thadan had conceded their adventuring days were over, along with the surprising notion of addressing practical concerns like rent. ¡°Fine,¡± Brakar conceded. ¡°We can look.¡± ¡°Perfect!¡± Thadan was already on his feet. ¡°You won¡¯t regret this!¡± ¡°I already do.¡± But he followed his friend down The Stack¡¯s winding stairs and out into the gradually awakening city. Ironweave was different at this hour¡ªthe famous bridges caught the early light like strands of spiderweb, while the morning mist softened the stark lines of the architecture. Market stalls were just beginning to set up, their owners calling quiet greetings to each other in a dozen different languages. Thadan led them through increasingly narrow streets, where the bridges overhead created a permanent twilight even in full daylight. The buildings here showed their age more openly¡ªcrumbling stonework patched with whatever materials had been available, windows clouded with years of grime. Yet there were signs of life everywhere: window boxes full of hardy herbs, children¡¯s toys left out on doorsteps, the smell of breakfast cooking from a hundred tiny kitchens. They turned down an alley that seemed barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast, then emerged suddenly into a small square. A dried-up fountain occupied the center, its basin currently serving as an impromptu meeting spot for a group of elderly dwarves playing cards. The surrounding shops had that distinctly desperate look Brakar associated with businesses barely hanging on¡ªfaded signs, dusty windows, inventory that hadn¡¯t changed in years. ¡°Here we are!¡± Thadan announced, gesturing grandly at what appeared to be an abandoned storefront. Brakar took in the cracked windows, the peeling paint, the ominous water stains around the foundation. ¡°It¡¯s... exactly what I expected.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the beauty of it!¡± Thadan fiddled with the rusty lock. ¡°No one else can see the potential!¡± ¡°I¡¯m starting to suspect that¡¯s because there isn¡¯t any.¡± But he followed his friend inside anyway, ducking under a cobweb that looked sturdy enough to qualify as architecture. The interior was surprisingly spacious, though currently occupied mainly by dust and what appeared to be several generations of abandoned furniture. ¡°Look at these bones!¡± Thadan swept his arm around, disturbing years of accumulated grime. ¡°High ceilings, good natural light once we clean the windows, plenty of storage space...¡± ¡°Possible rat infestation,¡± Brakar noted, spotting telltale signs along the baseboards. ¡°Easy fix! We get a cat. Doubles as a store mascot.¡± ¡°Water damage in the corner there.¡± ¡°Already talked to the landlord about it. He¡¯s willing to fix it as part of the lease agreement.¡± ¡°The floor¡¯s uneven.¡± ¡°Character! Besides, we can level it out with some basic carpentry.¡± Brakar turned to stare at his friend. ¡°You¡¯ve actually thought about these things.¡± ¡°Told you this was different.¡± Thadan¡¯s grin softened into something more serious. ¡°I know I usually just charge ahead without looking, but... I want this to work. Really work.¡± The sincerity in his voice was almost more unsettling than the shop¡¯s structural issues. Brakar started looking at the space with new eyes¡ªseeing past the current decay to what it could become. The main room was roughly rectangular, with large windows along the front that would indeed provide good light once cleaned. A solid wooden counter ran along one wall, its surface scarred but fundamentally sound. The back room was smaller but dry, with sturdy shelving already built into the walls. Thadan gestured toward the rear of the shop. ¡°We also have a back room,¡± he noted. ¡°Landlord says there¡¯s a proper cellar down there too. Good stone construction.¡± Brakar glanced toward the back room but made no move to enter. ¡°Anything in it?¡± ¡°Doubt it,¡± Thadan admitted. ¡°Said the last owner used it for storage, but no one¡¯s been down there in years.¡± He smirked. ¡°Could be full of treasure. Could be full of rats. The landlord even said it might connect to some of the old market tunnels, but they were sealed off years ago.¡± Brakar snorted. ¡°Tempting.¡± Thadan shrugged. ¡°At least it¡¯s there if we need it. This, though, will clean up nice.¡± Brakar¡¯s eye caught something metallic glinting in a dusty corner. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± They approached carefully¡ªletting go of habits was never easy¡ªbut it turned out to be nothing more sinister than an old strongbox, half-buried in debris. The lock was long since rusted away, but the box itself was still solid. ¡°Should we?¡± Thadan asked, already reaching for it. ¡°Probably not,¡± Brakar replied, already helping him lift it. The lid squeaked open to reveal... ledgers. Dozens of them, their pages yellow with age but still legible. Brakar picked one up at random, squinting at the faded handwriting. ¡°These are business records,¡± he realized. ¡°From the last shop that was here.¡± ¡°What kind of shop?¡± ¡°Hard to tell without better light, but...¡± Brakar traced the columns of neat figures. ¡°Whatever it was, they were doing well for a while. Then something happened.¡± ¡°What kind of something?¡± ¡°The numbers just... stop. Mid-page, mid-entry even.¡± He closed the ledger carefully. ¡°Like someone left in a hurry and never came back.¡± They both stared at the strongbox for a moment. ¡°Well,¡± Thadan said finally, ¡°that¡¯s not ominous at all.¡± ¡°Could be worse,¡± Brakar pointed out. ¡°Could be bloodstains.¡± ¡°Always the optimist.¡± But Thadan¡¯s smile had returned. ¡°Look at it this way¡ªwe already know what not to do.¡± ¡°Which would be more helpful if we knew what we were going to do in the first place. One last time¡ªwhat exactly are we going to sell here?¡± Thadan¡¯s grin stretched to dangerous proportions. ¡°We¡¯ll figure that out after we sign the lease!¡± And there it was¡ªthe familiar reckless enthusiasm that had led them into so many adventures, both glorious and disastrous. But something was different this time. The enthusiasm was tempered with actual planning, the recklessness balanced by genuine consideration of practical matters. Perhaps, Brakar realized, they¡¯d both changed more than they¡¯d noticed. The cistern disaster hadn¡¯t broken them¡ªit had forced them to grow. Thadan was still Thadan, with all his wild ideas and infectious optimism, but now he was actually thinking about consequences. And Brakar... Well, Brakar was seriously considering signing a lease for a shop with no clear purpose, based solely on his friend¡¯s enthusiasm and some dusty ledgers. Maybe he¡¯d changed too. The morning sun continued its slow invasion through the windows, gradually revealing new details: intricate tilework hidden under years of grime, surprisingly elegant moldings along the ceiling, the ghost of old signage barely visible on one wall. The space seemed to hold its breath, waiting for their decision. ¡°So,¡± Thadan said, his voice carrying that dangerous note of certainty that usually meant triumph or disaster, ¡°want to be business partners?¡± As Brakar opened his mouth to answer, a distinct scratching sound emerged from behind the walls¡ªtoo heavy, too deliberate to be rats. Both men froze, instincts honed by years of close calls and bad decisions kicking in. The sound drew closer, scraping and shuffling, accompanied by faint whispers¡ªor something trying very hard to sound like whispers. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The silence hung in the air, oppressive and unnerving. Brakar licked his lips, glancing nervously at the walls. ¡°About those sealed tunnels,¡± he said, his voice almost a whisper. ¡°Yes?¡± Thadan replied, still grinning, though his eyes flicked toward the source of the sound. ¡°How sure are we that they¡¯re actually sealed?¡± Thadan¡¯s grin didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Well, partner, looks like our first business decision might be investing in some better locks and a few good pest traps .¡± Brakar¡¯s brow furrowed, his fingers twitching at his sides as if wishing he had a weapon, or at least something heavy to throw. ¡°And if it starts again?¡± ¡°Then we deal with it. But for now, nothing¡¯s trying to eat us. Call it a win, partner.¡± The word partner lingered between them. Brakar stared at Thadan, then at the wall, then back at Thadan. His stomach churned with doubt, the kind of knot that had made him walk away from risk time and time again. He drew in a steady breath, rubbed the back of his neck, and shook his head. ¡°Screw it. Yeah, fine. Partners.¡±