The sun had shone so high and bright as it peaked at noon. The ground slowly dried and the puddle that the dwarf wiggled his toes on, dried and cracked. They sheltered themselves on a makeshift tent that they've set-up beside the well.

The materials were given to them earlier by Tristam who reluctantly approached them. He explained that it was leftover material from Lord Prestonheim's tent and the Commander wanted them to have it for their own use.

It took them a while to decide what to make of the materials given to them, since the sun was mildly radiant then. But as time passed, it became apparent that setting the tent would be a wise choice. The sun violently evaporated the remaining puddle on the ground.

The beastman and he, sat on a long slab of rock that they took from the stack of rocks near the cave entrance. The elf was nowhere to be found. She excused herself earlier and told them both that she will be cooking lunch for them. He wasn't hungry and he knew they weren't as well but decided not to oppose the elf. Cooking might give her some release from the anxiety she had over this waiting game.

By his side, he could feel the beastman's anxiety as he fidgeted his fingers and knees as he sat. The beastman also paced back and forth, from the hole to the tent. At times he would peek his head over the whole staring into the darkness, before shrugging his shoulders and walk back to the tent where he would start the process again.

He wanted to clear his head under the shade but the beastman was moving around so much it distracted him. He wanted to nag at him and ask him to keep calm. It wasn't the emotion that they need during this time, but rather their minds.

He wanted to make a plan, since Servus 132-X, never shared one nor had one and instead focus on just a goal that might be as impossible as reaching the sun. He wanted to chastise the man about that, but he can't. He just can't. He reminded him too much of someone he looked up to way back.

The dwarf drowned himself in his thoughts. About how to pick up the crumbling pieces of the deal that might end anytime. But the jittery beastman was not helping it at all.

He could no longer stand his friend's fidgeting. The dwarf looked at him and held his arm. This action distracted the beastman and stopped fidgeting in the process.

"W-what are you doing?" The beastman asked.

"Yer fidgeting. It's rocking the slab and 'tis making meself squiffy." The dwarf answered looking at empathetic over his obvious anxiety.

The beastman sighed and stood up. "W-will he still ret—" he stopped and bit his lip.

The dwarf understood him. He knew how worried the beastman was for his friend and feared for his safety. The dwarf stood up and invited the beastman to sit down with him again. The beastman agreed and sat slumped on the rock, with his hands covering his face.

The beastman sighed again as he squeezed his own head with a frustrated look on his face. "I should've volunteered and not him!" He exclaimed. "I mean, I am supposed to be the strongest one in the bunch, but I was…"

"…too afraid to say anything?" The dwarf interjected while patting his back. "Tis alright to be afraid, lad. Fear is what's keeping us alive, tis not yer fault." He was guilty of that too.

Everyone's guilty too, but nobody wanted to express that and why would they? He envied the beastman's honesty, it took a lot of courage to admit one's weakness. Mortals were prideful creatures regardless of race, gender, culture and beliefs, everyone had some pride to keep.

Even Servus 132-X might've hidden his fear more than anyone would've thought. He would never know now, but maybe he'd ask him once he returns. If he ever returns—the dwarf could only hope.

The elf came back from cooking. She brought a tray with four bowls of steaming hot food and slices of cold hard bread. Noticing this, the dwarf's mood became more somber. It could be out of habit or maybe out of hopeful thinking, but the elf bringing four bowls instead of three meant that she wanted Servus 132-X back.

The beastman stood up and tried to distract himself by helping the elf who stared blankly at the rope in the burrow when she arrived. After distributing the food, the beastman left the tray with the fourth bowl on top of piled stacks of wood to act as a place holder for the tray.

It was a sad and silent meal, different from what they were used to. The soup was saltier than what the dwarf was used to. Too salty in fact that the beastman coughed some out while sipping the soup. The dwarf patted the beastman's back and tried to comment on the soup but as he glanced over to the elf, he saw her eyes wet and reddish—she was crying.

"Oi!" He called the elf, "Are yah alright, lass?"

The elf immediately looked at him and tried wiping the tears from her eyes. Seeing this, the beastman also reacted by looking at the dwarf with his eyes asking on what they need to do. But what do they need to do? What can they do? Absolutely nothing.

The elf seeing their reaction hastily signed to the dwarf. "Don't worry about me, smoke just got into my eyes."

The beastman believed it instantly, "Oh! Maybe I should've helped with the food preparation. I am sorry, I spaced out—" he tried to explain.

"What are you saying? You don't have to apologize!" She signed. "Please don't say that."

The beastman nodded albeit still remorseful of what happened. He continued his way with the food, coughing occasionally as he sipped the soup.

The dwarf never left his eyes on the elf who stared blankly at the soup while swirling the bowl every now and again. Finally, she noticed the dwarf's stare and stared back at him. As she did, the dwarf subtly signed to her.

"I know smoke can't harm yer sight, lass." He started. "I know yer worried. It's okay, he will return to us alive." He hoped.

The elf's expression changed from being somber to being a bit annoyed. "Don't give me false hopes, Dwarf!" she subtly answered. "I am no child to be lied to! I know those words, I have—" She suddenly paused and became somber again.

"I am sorry," she signed once more. "I-I just hope he comes out alive." She paused and stared at the bowl, then drank it empty.

She spat and coughed some of the soup after emptying the bowl. She was dissatisfied with the soup.

"Who cooked this?! Who put the sea into this?!" She complained. "Who?!"

Her comment burst a laugh from the dwarf. It was a needed diversion from their tension-filled day. All three of them started laughing hard and loud. Their noise even raised a few eyebrows from the camp, but no one dared to approach them or reprimand them not with the Commander around.

After their side-splitting laughter died down and they were able to compose themselves, the elf asked again.

"Seriously, who made that soup?!" she signed to the dwarf.

The dwarf was trying his hardest to compose himself, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Lass, it was you!"

Suddenly a terrible sound echoed from the Commander's tent. It was coming from the crystal ball. The loud screeching noise was then followed by a muffled sound of a struggle. The camp froze in horror.

Their eyes went wide, petrified, as the audible sound became terribly gruesome with each passing moment. The sound jumped between an incomprehensible gurgle and clicking of teeth to a subtle scream of a terrified man.

The trio ran towards the barrow and immediately pulled the rope up, hoping for some resistance but there was none. The beastman suddenly tied the rope around his waist and wanted to descend into the hole immediately.

Just as he was about to, the dwarf blocked his way, his arms wide open.

"W-what are you doing? W-we have to save him!" The beastman exclaimed. "Get out of my way!"

"Nay, lad. Ya don't even have a plan!" The dwarf said stood firmly in front of him. "Yer gonna get yer ass whooped by whatever monstrous critters there!" He added.

The beastman shoved the dwarf to the side but the dwarf quickly got back to his feet and cling to the beastman's leg. His efforts were wasted, as the beastman easily walked off like nothing. Some moments later, the knights commanded by Lord Prestonheim intervened holding the strong beastman down.

The beastman struggled well, blindly punching and headbutting whoever was on his way. They were able to get him away from the hole as far as possible, but he was just too strong. The elf tried calming the raging beastman, but he simply moved out of her way and refused to listen.

"Stop this at once, ya dunce!" The dwarf gritted his teeth as he tried to get up. "Use yer noggins fer cryin' out loud!" He cracked his knuckles.

The dwarf had no choice, but to incapacitate him as much as he hated to do that. Still distracted by the elf, the dwarf ran towards his friend. With his protruding knuckle, the dwarf punched the base of the beastman's spine located a fingerling from his short, fluffy tail.

The beastman dropped limply on the ground, confused about what happened. "W-what did you just do?"

"Forgive me, lad." The dwarf sighed. "But I cannot risk you dying there." He gritted his teeth as he answered.

He genuinely wanted to go down there himself the moment he heard Servus 132-X's voice struggling. But he knew it was a fruitless effort. Whatever was down there was way too dangerous for them to risk without knowing what it truly was.

The battered knights approached the beastman once more, with ropes to tie him up. This time the dwarf confronted them.

"Good Sers, there's no need of that." He started. "Me friend is already bound by what me did."

Lord Prestonheim came a moment after, as the crystal ball went silent once more. The Commander looked distressed as he wanted to start a conversation with the dwarf.

"M'Lord," He bowed. "Can I do it now?" The dwarf reminded Lord Prestonheim of his request.

The elf looked approached him and gripped his shoulder hard. He looked back at her, with a faint smile.

"What are you trying to do?!" The elf signed to him and waited for his reply.

But the dwarf never did.