It.

Was.

Done.

Rhen plopped into the dirt, his body weary. He marveled at their creation. Was it perfect? No. But it was a respectable sized inn for such a small dungeon. Aki had helped test the roof by dropping a steady downpour over it; not a single drop inside. They had layered the mud and mortar with impeccable speed and skill, and it had only taken them four days. Four of the precious twelve… he hoped they could make it.

Jakira dropped down beside him with a sigh. “I didn’t think we could, but then we did.”

“But then we did.” Rhen smiled.

Sure, the interior was completely unfurnished, and the kitchen baren, but they had an inn. All things started somewhere.

“It is time for us to depart,” Aki called from the boat-wagon. It was full to the brim with ore, gemstones, father’s fennel, and buckets of berries—not Goddess Fruit…

Aki was psionically tapped out from all the mining, so he hitched a ride on Rhen’s shoulders while they pushed the boat up the path. They made decent time, arriving in town just before the shops shuttered their windows.

They were able to get Fennica to buy up most of the father’s fennel, and brough the rest to Perry—the inn keeper of the Bustling Brood. Rhen was able to get an order in with the tailor for some more shirts and pants to avoid any more naked blanket situations, and then the Sephine jeweler—Gwhan—bought up several of their gemstones and handed over the completed divination bones.

“Don’t sell these for less than three-hundred marks, yes?” The Sephine grinned, revealing her menacing teeth.

“We’ll get four,” Rhen said with a confident smile, and took the bones.

The smoothed knuckles and sharpened claws glowed with otherworldly light when Rhen touched them. Images of the nexus node, the boss monster, and the star suspended in purple haze connected by a thin line to Rhen’s dungeon, flashed in his mind..

Gwhan hissed a laugh. “You’ve been at the berries in the forest?”

“We have, unfortunately.” Rhen shot a glare at Aki. He shrugged his tentacles sheepishly.

“You have a connection to that dungeon, Zephitz. The binding done to you both is at the spirit level. That crystal is powerful, and time is running out.”

“How do you know about that,” Jakira asked, hand on the hilt of her dagger.

“I see many things behind your eyes.”

Rhen leaned forward, excited. “How much time?”

“That is difficult to tell.”

“The voice said twelve cycles, but I don’t know what that means.”

Gwhan tapped her chin, then curled her finger at Rhen. “Come with me.”

She led him through a beaded veil that obscured the pungent scent of burnt goddess fruit. Rhen covered his mouth and nose instinctively.

“It will enhance my connection to your vision,” Gwhan said, gently pulling Rhen’s hand from his face. He did as instructed but breathed shallowly.

Gwhan chanted in her native tongue, and her eyes came alight with silvery anima. Rhen couldn’t look away from her, omnipotently experiencing his entire goddess fruit trip as her eyes bore into him. Rhen covered his mouth to hold back vomit.

Gwhan laughed. “Go, get a meal. It will make things better.”

Rhen swallowed back bile. “How long?”

“I believe cycle in this instance will refer to one thing: the flow of anima through the Tree of Being.”

“The Tree of Being, that’s something else the voice said. So, it is another realm!” Rhen said, excitement pushing through the nausea.

Gwhan nodded. “The anima flow cycles once every four days in this realm, every seven days in my home realm of Hapthar, and so on.”

“How do you know this?”

Gwhan chuckled. “It is what I am paid for.” She held out her hand expectantly.

Rhen scowled. He hadn’t agreed to pay her… but his vigor was made stronger by the news. At least they knew.

Forty-eight days. Well, forty-four now.

That was a lot more than he’d thought previously, and it made the whole thing feel more doable.

He placed a few marks in her hand. She looked at them as if disappointed but hurried them away to her purse all the same. She showed them out, bidding them happy delving.

It was too late to sell anymore, so the rest of the wares they stored in Jakira’s room at the Bustling Brood under lock and key. They enjoyed a long, hot bath, and two heaping portions of rabbit stew with fat bread rolls. They must’ve looked like savages, as the rest of the delvers wouldn’t stop staring at them. Finally, a young woman with hair like straw and brown freckles across her nose approached their table.

“You’re the Zephitz crew, right?” she asked.

“We are.” He stood and held out his hand. “I’m Rhen Zephitz.”

She grinned and accepted the handshake. “Olliat Nilson. Could I sit with you?”

“Please do. This is Aki, and Jakira.”

Olliat grabbed her bowl of stew and set herself at the table next to Jakira. Her legs bounced under the table as she surveyed the Zephitz crew.

“Is something the matter?” Aki asked Olliat.

“No, uhm, not really.” She glanced over her shoulder at the other delvers. “So, how is the dungeon?”

“Good. We just finished the inn.” Rhen talked past a big chunk of bread in his mouth.

“Oh, so you’re preparing to host delvers?”

“We are. Everyone with a love of the delve is welcome,” Jakira said with a kind smile.

Olliat nodded, looking to Rhen. “And the rates?”

Rhen looked between Aki and Jakira. “That wasn’t something we’d discussed yet, but I think we all agree that delvers deserve more than a measly ten percent divided between you.”

“Ten!” Olliat laughed, then covered her mouth. “What dungeons have you been delving, Mr. Zephitz.” She leaned in and whispered. “Mr. Welsh gives us a tiered flat rate, rarely more than five percent.”

“That’s criminal,” Rhen barked, his heart hammering.

The room quieted, delvers glancing their way, some with less than courteous stares. Rhen could tell that a couple of the delvers looked a little better off; nice clothes, recently bathed, a nice flagon of beer at their table. Must’ve been some of Welsh’s goons. Dungeon owners always had goons.

Olliat whispered, trying to calm Rhen. “It’s just the way it is here in Yu. The Yu dungeons went dry ten years ago, and Welsh was all that was left… but lots of us had made family here already. Pickin’ them all up and moving to Desedra wasn’t possible.”

Rhen gritted his teeth. “That doesn’t give him the right to exploit you.”

That damned Welsh thought he could be the next Desedra and treat his delvers even worse. Rhen would show him the power of capitalism against a poor business practice. The delvers here didn’t have any other choice before, but now, there was another plentiful option. Those anima crystals in the lake chamber alone could level every delver in the Bustling Brood three or four times over.

“Keep your voice down, Mr. Zephitz,” Olliat whispered. “Those men are his.”

“I’d gathered as much by the daggers they’re staring at me.” Rhen locked eyes with one of the bigger men. His lip curled back in a snarl, then he buried his face in his beer mug.

Olliat leaned in farther, whispering so low Rhen could barely hear her. “When can we join you?”

“How many?”

“Five.”

“Builds?”

“One bruiser, two fighters, a mage, and a mule.”

“Like an actual mule?” Jakira asked.

Rhen chuckled. “Pack rat’s what they call them in Desedra. Enon syntial bags for days, they have huge carry capacity. How many node boss fights?”

Olliat winced. “None for me, but the other fighter, my brother Eli, he’s seen one.”

“Seen, or fought?”

“Um, well…”

“It’s fine. What’s your syntial level?”

“I’m Prima I, just the one. Eli is Prima II, the bruiser—my father Joseph Nilson—is Ancilla II, Eli’s mother, Valine, is Ancilla III mage, and our mule, my uncle Bort, is Tertia I.”

Rhen nodded as the prospects improved. An ancilla II bruiser could be a good tutor for Jakira, and help with the makings of two delve teams. Eight was a good-sized party, but two teams of four would be better for their current mission in the dungeon. They weren’t ready to take on the lake room yet, but there was hopefully plenty more down past the father’s fennel farm.

“We need to make a trip to Desedra to sell our materials and wares, we should be back within two days. If you meet us here again, paperwork ready to go for everyone, we’ll take you to the dungeon.”

“You will!” Olliat squealed, then covered her mouth again. “You will. Wonderful, Mr. Zephitz.”

“Stop with that, just call me Rhen. We can discuss payment on our return, but I can promise it’ll be better than what Welsh enslaves you with.”

Olliat nodded, her smile bright and unstoppable. “Then we eagerly await your return. Until then.”

She picked up her bowl and returned to her family’s table. Rhen spotted Joseph the bruiser easily. He was twice as wide across the chest as Rhen was, and nearly a foot taller than him. His hair was darker than Olliat’s, with a smattering of gray, but he sported the same freckles on his nose bridge. He was scarred up and down each arm, and across his face. It must’ve been an age since he had to resurrect.

Joseph gave a courteous nod in Rhen’s direction and raised his beer. Welsh’s goons in the corner took notice of the motion, and scribbled something on a bit of parchment. Rhen hoped he wasn’t dooming this poor family with his agreement… he’d do what he could to protect them until they were part of his dungeon crew.

“I think it might be a good idea if one of us stays in town.”

“I will stay and keep the peace,” Aki said, his presence growing friendly as a pinkish hue surrounded his watery body. He took to the empty bard’s stage, ready once again to entertain the crowd. He was damned good at it, too, and with his abilities, he might just be able to subdue the Welsh goons without a fight.

As the dark outside the inn deepened, the Welsh goons departed, same as Olliat’s family and a few others. Jakira retired to her room early to organize the wares, and Rhen stayed up to spur on Aki’s performance. Aki molded and transformed the water of his body, creating interesting spectacles as the light passed through the orbs of water.

The enchanting display soon put Rhen to sleep right where he sat, and he was roused by a gentle hand of a fellow delver. They moved the tables and chairs aside, and within seconds of hitting the floor, Rhen was fast asleep again.

Jakira woke Rhen in the morning with a gentle shake. She handed him a fresh roll, and sat next to him on the floor.

“I’ve been thinking… you should stay here while I run the merch to Desedra.”

Rhen felt a flicker of fear. What she had in that pack must’ve been worth close to five-thousand marks. If anyone had a whiff of what was in there, she’d have wolves descending at every second.

“Don’t you think I should escort you?”

“You have a lot to do for the inn, and I’m sure Aki wants you here to help with those goons.”

Rhen scowled. “Are you sure you can manage with all that? What if…”

She smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about my safety. Look,” she flexed her bicep. “I’m getting stronger every day, and plus, I have that defender’s cry. I’ll kick them all between the legs and make them throw up.”

He’d forgotten how much strength she’d gained. “Yeah. Okay. Just never open the pack in front of anyone. Come to a vendor with what you want to sell in your second pack, your smaller side pouch.”

Jakira chuckled. “Oh, so it wasn’t my safety after all, but the profits.”

“No, that’s not it! I just mean…” he leaned closer and whispered, “If you open the bag and people see inside, they’ll know how much you have. They’ll come after you.”

She stood, pulling on the straps of the bag. “I promise, I’ve got it. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, everything sold.”

“See that you do, or no bonus for you.”

“I’m getting paid? I thought this was a charity dungeon.”

They shared a smile that lightened the tension. Rhen didn’t really care if she lost all the loot—save for the knuckle bones he had a promise riding on. He didn’t want to see her hurt. He didn’t want to see Aki hurt, either, and those goons were more likely to make some sort of move now that Olliat had done her business in the open.

“Well, you better get to the train,” Rhen stood, reaching out for a handshake.

Jakira pulled him into a hug. Rhen tensed, surprised. After a second, he relaxed into her. He wrapped his arms around her back and squeezed, feeling his worries melt. How long had it been…

She pulled away. “I’ll be fine. See to it that my inn is ready when I get back, or no bonus for you.”

Rhen saluted. “Yes, miss.”

She gave him one last wave and a smile, then disappeared into the cool morning air.

“And you say she does not have affections for you.” Aki appeared from nowhere, startling Rhen.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rhen said, rolling up his blanket.

“Oh, come off it,” an older delver with a shaved head chimed in. “We all saw the way yous was lookin at each other.”

Everyone but Rhen laughed.

“Aki, don’t we have more important matters to attend? Like an inn, and a dungeon?”

“Aye, I heard her threatin you about that inn,” the shaved man said. “Need a hand with it? I’ve done a fair share of carpentry in my day. Barrek’s my name.” He held out his hand for a shake.

Rhen went to grab it and the man pulled back a hair.

“You’re not gonna hug me, are ye?” He grinned wide then gripped Rhen’s hand with a hardy shake.

Rhen shook his head. “I can appreciate a joke, but I don’t want her too embarrassed to come home… she has all our money. The miss already declared we are friends, so that’s it on that matter.”

“Eh, what’s a wife but a friend you share a bed with?”

“If yer lucky!” another man piped in.

“Lucky for the friend, or if yer sharin a bed?”

“Either?”

“Both!”

The room roared with laughter, and this time Rhen joined in. He didn’t know if it was the infused bread rolls, Aki’s aura, or perhaps seeing the prospect of a new dungeon that had them in such high spirits. Rhen was happy to be surrounded by the laughter all the same.

Rhen cleared his throat. “All right. Who can build furniture?”