“Ok, listen up!” a scholarly young man said as he stood up on a platform at the center of the tent. A half hour had passed since Andy and the group arrived at the job site, and the orientation was just now beginning. The young man’s voice seemed amplified, whether by vocal training or magical means.

  The conversation among the loud crowd of adventurers, now about three-hundred or so in number, died into a murmur before dissipating completely.

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” the man said. “My name is Blerimy Pimm, you can call me Page Blerimy. I am the head assistant to the most esteemed Fichteh, the Obscure Wizard. Mage Fichteh thanks you all for your participation today, and will address you in a few moments. First, though, I wanted to go over some housekeeping items.”

  Restless murmurs circulated through the crowd once again.

  “The more orderly you are, the sooner you can get to dungeon crawling,” Blerimy said, raising his voice.

  At the mention of dungeon crawling, a few isolated cheers and claps erupted, followed by a loud wave of shushing. Finally, the crowd died down again.

  “Now, does everyone have a map? It’s on a purple parchment and contains symbolic annotations with a key at the bottom… If you do not have a map that looks like this,” he held up a purple parchment, the same kind that Andy had received a few minutes prior, “please see one of the attendants at the check-in desk.”

  There were a few murmurs as several adventurers shuffled to the outside of the crowd and made their way to the desk.

  “Now, I want to address the loot situation,” Blerimy said.

  At the mention of loot, the crowd erupted into raucous cheers.

  “Excuse me!” Blerimy tried to interject.

  The cheers continued for nearly a minute, adventuring companions smacking each other on the back, eyes wide at the prospect of loot, gesturing wildly.

  Blerimy waited patiently until it died down. “Each team has a designated tent, just over there,” he pointed to a row of enclosed white canvas tents, about ten feet by twenty feet. There were six or seven rows of identical tents behind them, too, totalling somewhere between eighty and a hundred. “Each tent is equipped with comfortable mattresses and other amenities if you require a long rest. Additionally, each tent is guarded by a servitor spirit designed and conjured by the esteemed Fichte himself. Your possessions will be cared for until you finish your assignment. Once you check out, if you require transportation for your loot, reasonable accommodations can be made.”

  “We gotta roll all our treasure in and out of the dungeon on wheelbarrows or something?” Someone in the front row called out.

  “No,” Blerimy said. “I was just getting to that. As you’ll see on your map, the dungeon has a main corridor that connects all other sections. The main corridor has already been cleared and secured, so it is a safe zone. We have a team of servitors dedicated to the transportation of loot from the cavern to your tents. You can handle it as you see fit, but I recommend periodically bringing your loot out to the main corridor and handing it off to a servitor, who will transport and deposit it in your tent for you.”

  “Why can’t the little blue guys do it all?” Someone called out.

  “We are utilizing servitors only in safe zones,” said Blerimy. “You are responsible for securing your assigned corridor. That’s what we’ve hired you for.”

  “How can we trust ‘em!?” another adventurer called out.

  “These servitors have been designed with the utmost care and meticulous attention to detail by the venerable Fichteh. No need to worry. He assures me that he understands the concerns of loot-hungry adventurers, and has created the automotons to obey strict ethical protocols to ensure that everything you find, you keep. Your identity will be verified each time you hand your loot off to the servitor, and they will be magically bound to deposit your earnings in the correct tent. It’s a foolproof system, you can trust me on that. And if you don’t want to trust me, you can trust the venerable Wizard Ficteh.”

  The crowd began murmuring again in a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

  “Now, when the magnanimous Fichteh has finished delivering his remarks, I will lead you down to the dungeon entrance. We will proceed by the medical tent, where you will receive a healing potion for your team to help you during your work. Then, we’ll proceed together through the main corridor. There will be signs directing you to your assigned section at the entrance of each branch of the dungeon. If you have any further questions, please see an attendant at the front desk. Thank you, very much, for your cooperation and your service to the resplendent Fichteh. His excellency will address you here in a few moments. Good day!”

  The crowd erupted in cheers and applause which faded into a droning murmur once again.

  “Well,” Andy said. “It sounds like Fichteh is quite a titled man.”

  “Wizards can be… a lot,” said Quinn.

  Andy looked around at the crowd. He saw all manner of adventurers represented in and around the tent. The majority of them were human, but there were also several halflings, a few rabbitfolk, a few elves, some orcish folks, some dwarves, and many species that Andy didn’t have a good English word for.

  Then, all of a sudden, something caught Andy’s attention: a set of piercing green eyes. They belonged to a ratfolk who leaned against the tentpole, smirking menacingly.

  By the knowing look on the ratfolk’s face, Andy reckoned it must have been one of the creatures spying on Morwen’s property.

  A wave of frustration and anger washed over Andy. He was tired of the spying and even though he was only level 6, he had enough power now that he felt he could confront this stalker. He was going to let this asshole know he didn’t appreciate his surveillance. “That’s it,” he muttered under his breath as he instinctively began to approach the ratfolk.

  “Where are you–” Quinn began.

  Andy didn’t listen. He pushed his way through the crowd until he came to the tentpole against which the rat continued to lean.

  The ratfolk had his furry arms crossed, wearing dark clothing and a smug smirk.

  “Fancy seeing you again,” the rat said in a low, gravelly voice. “I suppose even the noblest of heroes ain’t above killing for some loot, eh?” The rat chuckled, emitting a raspy laugh as if he were on the verge of an asthma attack.

  “What’s your deal?” Andy said. “Why are you following me?”

  “You take orders from your people, I take orders from mine,” the rat said. “We all have to feed ourselves. Nothing personal, babe.”

  “Who gives you your orders?” Andy said. “I’m sick of being followed around.”

  “I’m not following you today, dear boy,” the rat said. “My employer has ordered me here to assist him with the dungeon.”

  “And who is your employer?” Andy demanded, his fists tightening.

  “Sinclair, I require your assistance at once!” came a voice from behind Andy. It was a familiar voice.

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  “Yes, master, right away,” the rat said, looking over Andy’s shoulder. “Brat,” he muttered in a barely audible whisper.

  “Who is that you’re speaking to over there?” the voice came closer.

  Andy turned around. It was Braden Pike, the noble-born he had tied against in his second [combat] sparring match.

  Braden’s eyes went wide, then narrowed into slits. “Why are you speaking to my team, huh?” he said, his hand resting on the hilt of a sabre. He was dressed in fine steel armor and wore a dark green cape, his red hair tied back. “Trying to sabotage me?”

  “I was just speaking to an old friend,” Andy said, letting half a grin spread across his face. “Sinclair and I go way back.”

  “What do you mean? You’re a Visitor, no? How do you know him, Sinclair?” Braden demanded, his face falling into an intense frown.

  “I’m afraid I cannot say, master,” the ratfolk said, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked toward the ground.

  “What is going on here?” Braden said. “I will not be made a fool. Speak! At once!”

  The rat remained silent, his whiskers twitching slightly as a toothy smirk crossed his face.

  “Answer me, that’s an order!”

  The rat looked up, relaxing his shoulders. “Of course, master, an order is an order…” he said slyly. “This young man is the subject of your uncle’s surveillance. This is Andy, the Visitor who has gotten himself involved with members of the Order of the Behemoth.”

  Braden’s expression changed from confused anger to angry confusion. “What do you mean?” he said, looking at Andy in shock. His eyes darted from Andy’s shoes to his face, to his weapons. “You’re a Visitor and yet you throw your hat in with lowlifes, freaks, and losers with an ideology of weakness… Why? Why would you cripple yourself so quickly upon your arrival?”

  Andy remained silent.

  “That wasn’t a rhetorical question. Speak, fool!” Braden said, grasping his sabre hit with his metal gauntlet more tightly.

  “You’re unpleasant, did you know that?” Andy said.

  The rat began snickering and hissing uncontrollably. “You’ve done it now,” he muttered.

  “HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO YOUR SUPERIOR THAT WAY!” Braden shouted, drawing his saber and putting the tip at Andy’s throat. Braden heaved with labored breath as his face grew red.

  Andy didn’t flinch. He remained calm as the crowd around them backed away, a hush coming over them.

  This guy is officially making a scene…

  “You entitled little brat… you think you can come to this world and speak to its elite nobility that way? I’ll show you.” Braden began to push the tip of the saber harder against Andy’s throat.

  It began to puncture his skin, but still, Andy didn’t move.

  I’m going to call this bastard’s bluff.

  “ENOUGH!” came a voice from behind Braden. It was Neroth, dressed in his customary black chrome armor, approaching the altercation.

  Braden slowly withdrew his sword and sheathed it.

  Andy remained perfectly still, fighting the urge to touch his neck to check for blood. He wanted to remain impassible, to refrain from showing even a hint of weakness.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Neroth said as he approached Andy. “What sort of trouble are you causing? Answer me!”

  “Just having a conversation with your spy rat,” Andy said, spitting at Neroth’s feet.

  Neroth’s face turned beet red as he clutched his belt.

  “That’s privileged information,” he hissed through gritted teeth at Sinclair.

  “I was compelled by your nephew to divulge it,” Sinclair said, leaning back against the tentpole. “As you know, I must obey direct orders without question.”

  Neroth sighed. “Come back to the tent,” he said to Braden. “We have champagne and crab waiting for us.”

  “But the Wizard is–”

  “You don’t need to hear his speech,” Neroth said. “He’ll say nothing of any importance to someone as talented and well-learned as you.” He put his arm on Braden’s shoulder. “Besides, it's best not to mix with all the… riff raff, if you can help it.”

  Braden turned to leave.

  “I have a feeling I will have the displeasure of crossing your path again,” Neroth said, locking eyes with Andy, “I plan to deal with your insolence and disrespect most harshly.”

  Neroth turned and followed Braden out of the crowd, which parted ways ahead of them.

  That sounded an awful lot like a direct threat.

  Murmurs echoed through the adventurers.

  The ratfolk hissed and cackled, “You have some balls on you, lad,” he said. “I’ve seen the boss behead men for less.” He ceased leaning on the pole.

  “You don’t get to enjoy the champagne too?” Andy said, putting his hand on his neck. He looked down. It was lightly bloodied, but it wasn’t gushing. It would heal quickly.

  “I don’t care for champagne,” said the rat. “But even if I did, a lowly informant like me rarely partakes in the privileges of… nobility.”

  “That’s fucked up,” said Andy. “If you’re sticking your neck out for them, the least they could do is feed you.”

  “We ratfolk make do with the coin we receive for our services,” said the rat, turning toward the platform as the crowd hushed once again. “No complaints from me.”

  Andy relaxed as a frail old man in a wide-brimmed, pointy hat took the stage at the front of the tent. Wheezing slightly. “Attention, please,” he said in a barely audible whisper.

  Andy heard several people in the crowd murmuring:

  “What’d he say?”

  “I can’t hear him…”

  “What was that?”

  “EXCUSE ME,” the Wizard said in a booming voice that was so loud, Andy had to plug his ears. “I FORGOT TO CAST MY VOCAL PROJECTION SPELL, HOW SILLY OF ME.”

  The shocking volume of the Wizard’s voice nearly bowled Andy over. He plugged his ears as he looked around. Several people fell to the ground, writhing around and clutching their heads as the Wizard’s voice reverberated in their skulls.

  “Too loud!” someone called.

  “OH,” said the Wizard. “How’s this, then?” he said at a reasonably loud volume.

  “Much better!” someone said as several in the crowd gave a thumbs up.

  “Okay,” said the Wizard. “I simply wanted to get on this stage and thank you for participating in this, well, let’s call it a spring cleaning. I know, I know, it’s autumn and we’re headed into winter soon, but we’ll call it a spring cleaning nonetheless… well… what was I going to say again?” He trailed off meekly.

  The Wizard put his hand into his breast pocket, pulling out some notecards and a pair of reading glasses. He put the glasses on, held the cards in front of his nose, and cleared his throat. “Ahem. Thank you all for your acceptance of this job. My silver dungeon, sadly, has grown out of control recently.”

  Ficteh lowered his cards and looked out at the crowd. “I must say, as an aside, I am quite pleased with the progress I have made on increasing the efficiency of the {create silver dungeon} spell, an important spell in the arsenal of every Wizard. The results were so good, in fact, that we weren’t prepared for containment… and its due to the stunning success of my experiments – with many thanks due of course to my team of talented assistants too – that we have the situation we are in today…” As he trailed off, he pushed his spectacles back up his nose and examined his note cards. “Now… where was I again… Ah, yes… As I’m sure many of the veteran adventurers here are aware, a rogue silver dungeon is a formidable beast indeed, in its extensity and, in certain areas, in its intensity. I trust that my associate has instructed you on the way you will proceed to the dungeon and how the loot will be transported, yes?”

  “Yes!” several people called in unison.

  “Spledid. Just marvelous. Then I suppose the only other thing I’ll add is that you have been assigned to your section of the dungeon based on your qualifications and the level of challenges you’re likely to face there. If, however, you find that you need more manpower to complete your section, please don’t hesitate to contact one of our attendants, and we’ll see about shuffling personnel around.” The wizard cleared his throat again. “Thank you all, and best of luck.”

  A cheer erupted. The crowd buzzed once again as people began to move out from the tent.

  Blerimy stood up on a table in the yard. “Please, if you will, find your teams and be prepared to follow me to the main corridor in five minutes!”

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