To say that Rowan’s following weeks at Faebrook were hectic would be an understatement.

During the week, his time was consumed by classwork, doing his best not to fall any further behind as midterms came and went. His weekends were spent in dungeons, delving into the myriad ruins that surrounded Faebrook as a porter, processing and hauling the loot for whichever party Kanna had managed to find for him this week.

Interestingly enough, Rowan’s services were actually in fairly high demand. Most of the students at the academy looked down on porters, viewing the job as something beneath them, with some parties refusing to use them outright despite the advantages offered. As a result, Rowan found his services were in low supply, but high demand, especially once his reputation began to spread. Parties were always looking for a reliable but lowkey worker to help with their loot, and Rowan offered just that.

A month and a half after his first dungeon dive with the Frost Blades, and Rowan had already managed to enter more than ten dungeons, alongside seven different parties. Unfortunately, the Frost Blades themselves had not hired him again, Nor’s premonition having been correct. The week after slaying the Aracocytus, they had all been promoted to Iron-rank, and as a result, the dungeons they were entering were too dangerous for Rowan to enter.

Kanna had been fairly stringent about this fact. No matter how simple the job of a porter was, there was always danger when entering a dungeon. Although iron-tier dungeons would have given him a significant increase in pay, it was not worth the risk of dying to some iron-tier monster that escaped the party’s notice.

And so Rowan’s days were spent thusly. During the week, he attended class, studied, and bashed his head against the wall of knowledge. Over the weekend he dove into dungeons, and through it all he did his best to avoid getting involved with the cliques that had formed among the other Draigwyns.

Despite her position at the top of the class, Morgana was even more isolated now than she had been at the beginning of the semester, her prickly attitude and frosty demeanour enough to keep even the kindest of heart away. On top of that, it seemed to Rowan at least that she had somehow managed to piss off the most popular group of students in their house.

Led by Tianna Caleigh, the blonde girl in his Intro to Magic class, they were a group of nobles who monopolized the best parts of the common room, clustered around the fire whenever the older students were away, and occupied the most comfortable chairs and sofas available whenever they weren’t.

Although Rowan did not know what Morgana had done to annoy them, it wasn’t as if it was hard to guess. The number of people who had not fallen afoul of the fae girl’s sharp tongue was the same as the number of those who had not yet interacted with her. The girl lashed out at everyone.

Regardless of how it had happened, even Rowan had been approached by Aidan Cannis, one of the boys from Tianna’s posse, who had interrogated Rowan about his relationship with Morgana. Rowan had hurriedly assured him that there was no love lost between them, an answer that seemed to satisfy the noble, and Feinne Westmarch, Tianna’s best friend had rewarded Rowan with a pleased nod the next time he had seen her.

Not keen to implicate himself in the social battles of nobles, Rowan had isolated himself even further from the rest of House Draigwyn, interacting only with Dugan, Kanna, and a few of the friendlier older students he had adventured with.

“I swear, you spend all your time in here,” Fiin told him, setting the books she was carrying down on the table he was studying at. The library was nearly empty at this time, most students preferring to spend their leisure time in the common room or on the grounds, even despite the chill that fall had brought.

“You’re one to talk,” Rowan said, glancing up from the book he was reading on magic theory. “You’re here more than me.”

“Yeah,” Fiin replied, “but I work here. What’s your excuse? You spend all your time studying, but when I checked the midterm results in the great hall, you weren’t even in the top half of your class.”

“Which is why I’m always here studying,” Rowan retorted.

Fiin grinned. “Touché. Gotta admit though, I am kinda surprised to see you here at noon on a weekend. Thought you’d be in a dungeon right now.”

Rowan shrugged. “Couldn’t find a party. What about you? Why aren’t the Frost Blades in a dungeon right now?”

This time it was Fiin’s turn to shrug. “Training. Dillo feels we’re having too many close calls in iron-tier dungeons, so he, Jaro, and Patri are drilling formations today, which means Stenne and I have the day off.”

“And you’re spending it in the library?”

“Just because I have the day off doesn’t mean I can slack off,” Fiin retorted. “As the party’s archaeologist, I need to make sure I know as much as I can about the dungeons we’ll be entering, and our jump to iron dungeons means I’ve had to relearn nearly everything.”

“Iron dungeons require different knowledge than brass?” Rowan asked, intrigued. He had been under the assumption that the different tiers were only separated by the mana density and the power level of the monsters within. Clearly, that was not all there was to it.

“Oh yeah,” Fiin responded, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Different civilizations had different levels of power, were able to conquer different levels of dungeons, and prioritized certain things above others. The dungeon you did with us was one that had been conquered by the Windian Empire, which ruled over this area about sixteen hundred years ago. Their stuff can be found in a lot of the older dungeons from that era, mostly brass and the occasional iron-tier one.”

“Weren’t the Windians pretty strong? How come their influence doesn’t extend beyond iron tier?” Rowan asked. He had learned about the Windian Empire in History class the month before, not long after his excursion with the Frost Blades. From the way Professor Dahlren had talked about them, they had been a very powerful empire, capable of dominating a large part of Medanas in their heyday. For their influence to be limited to the relatively weaker dungeons didn’t make much sense.

“Sure,” Fiin replied, “but dungeons above iron-tier are valuable resources to nations. They’re not going to leave the Windians legacy behind when they reconquer the dungeons for themselves. Windian stuff in brass and iron-tier dungeons got to survive only because it wasn’t worth the hassle of removing their traps and contraptions like they did in higher-tier dungeons. If you aim to be a combat archaeologist in the north, you’ll need to study Windian stuff for the lower-level dungeons, as well as the few undiscovered dungeons and ruins that remain from that period, but you’ll need to study more recent civilizations too.”

“What is it that archaeologists do, anyways?” Rowan said, finally asking the question that had been bugging him for a while. Every party he had joined counted an archaeologist among their number, but each had been different. Some were mages, while others wielded bows or sword and shield. Some focused on combat, while others shied away from even the tamest of encounters.

The only thing they all had in common was their ability to identify and solve the many traps and puzzles that littered the dungeons they entered, though even here their methods differed, some preferring to solve the problems in front of them through cunning and intelligence, while others opted to simply brute force their way through.

In contrast, the other classes were all fairly straightforward in their classifications. Vanguards acted as the shield which protected the group, almost all that Rowan had partied with having carried a sword and shield. Slayers killed monsters, often with oversized weapons or flashy spells, while healers healed the group and provided magical firepower from the rear.

Only the archaeologist role saw such huge differences between members, and it confused him as to what their role in the party truly entailed. Were they damage dealers? Supports? People brought along just to deal with traps? He didn’t know, and now that he had the perfect opportunity to ask, he intended to find out.

Fiin stared at him, and for a moment, Rowan feared he had overstepped. But then Fiin smiled, crossing her arms as she stared at him from across the table.

“Right, I keep forgetting that you’re only a first year, and not even done your first semester. Most porters are second year students at least, so it’s pretty rare for kids who haven’t learned about dungeons to enter them with us. Now then, archaeologists...”

Pausing for a moment, Fiin appeared to gather her thoughts. “Archaeologists are a cross between researchers and supports—that’s probably the best way to put it. Our primary purpose during adventures is to supply information on enemies, disarm traps, and provide supplementary firepower to the party, hence the term ‘Combat Archeologist.’ It’s an interesting job because it’s one of the few ways those of us who are less talented in combat get a spot in adventurer parties, though that does come with some downsides of its own...”

“Downsides?” Rowan asked. So far Fiin had basically just confirmed what he had already observed, but he had not noticed any downsides to adventuring with an archaeologist in any of the parties he had been with so far. “What are the downsides?”

“Because we tend not to be so good at fighting, a lot of other adventurers feel we don’t deserve to be put on the same level as them,” Fiin explained, a downcast expression on her face. “We get the same cut of the loot as other members of the party, but vanguards and slayers both tend to be way stronger in combat, and healers keep everyone from dying. You know, things that look impressive.”

“I thought you reaching into solid rock was pretty impressive,” Rowan said honestly. “And figuring out that door with the animals on it—I never could have done that.” This seemed to cheer Fiin up a little, earning Rowan a small smile from the archaeologist.

“Thanks. It gets to you sometimes, you know? Members of the other classes say that all we do is find treasure and clear the way of traps. But it’s not easy to learn everything that we need to know to be effective. An entire dungeon run can end with nothing to show for it if the archaeologist can’t figure out the right puzzle, or if a trap goes unnoticed and takes out the healer.

“Those incidents all get blamed on us, but we rarely get praise for the times we do catch all the traps, or solve the mechanisms and find some awesome loot. That’s just expected of us, and it sucks. People only notice the archaeologist when it’s to complain, but they’ll heap praise on the others for killing monsters, or keeping us all alive. Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate my party and what they do, but only Jaro and Stenne really seem to recognize my accomplishments down there.”

Rowan nodded. He had definitely noticed the same while hanging out with other parties, now that Fiin mentioned it. Even with the Frost Blades—the only party he had hung out with after the dungeon was complete—their time in the bath had been spent praising each other for what had happened in combat situations. There had been no praise for Fiin’s abilities which had allowed them to proceed through the dungeon without incident.

It was the same with other parties as well. Slayers and vanguards were universally liked, and both praise and adoration was heaped upon them for their displays of martial might. A slayer killing four enemies on his own or a vanguard holding off a particularly troublesome opponent for some time would both earn them drinks and compliments aplenty from their companions, while an archaeologist solving a particularly troublesome enigma would only earn them a mild compliment or passing thanks.

“That sucks,” Rowan empathized, and he meant it. As a street rat he had participated in numerous thefts and burglaries, often as part of a larger team of urchins. As an outsider, he had usually been given the role of the lookout, the one who kept watch as the others robbed the place blind. To thieves, the lookout was a role that lacked the glamour and prestige earned by those actually robbing the joint, whose skill at stealth and sleight of hand was always lauded by others in their circles.

The lookout, however, was different. If Rowan did his job as lookout correctly, and the plan went off without a hitch, his accomplices would always attempt to withhold his cut of the profits, claiming that he did nothing while they risked their hides within. If he failed and those inside were caught, then he would suffer beatings, mockery, and worse at the hands of their friends or crew. Worse even, if he did notice guards approaching and called out, it meant that the operation was a failure, the blame for which inevitably ended up with the messenger, even if he was often blameless.

Despite the importance of a lookout to a successful burglary, it was a thankless role, much the same as archaeologists in adventurer parties, and Rowan found himself sympathizing with Fiin, who clearly resented the negative connotations associated with her role.

“If it helps, I thought you were way cooler than Dillo or the others were,” Rowan offered.

Fiin grinned. “Don’t let Dillo hear you say that if you want to keep adventuring with us once you reach iron-tier, but thanks. I know archaeologist is a necessary role to the party, I just wish others would recognize that too.”

“Jaro seems to recognize your abilities,” Rowan lied. While Jaro did heap praise on Fiin, he had a sneaking suspicion that that had more to do with the boy’s infatuation of the blonde archaeologist, and less to do with her abilities, but Fiin probably didn’t need to hear that.

“He does,” Fiin conceded. “And Stenne is usually pretty good about it too. Patri’s not terrible either, at least not as bad as some of the other slayers I know from other parties. The only really bad one is Dillo.”

“Dillo?”

“Yeah.” Fiin sighed. “Dillo will thank me for solving a puzzle or detecting a trap. But he gets angry really quickly if things aren’t proceeding at a pace he’d like. Taking too long to figure something out gets me on his bad side fast. Which is actually why I’m here today. I kinda messed up in our last dungeon, and missed a trap that nearly crippled Patri. An honest mistake, but Dillo shouted at me for like an hour afterwards, and I do feel guilty that Patri nearly lost an arm for it, even if the healers could’ve put it back for him afterwards.”

The casual way in which she spoke about it caused Rowan to shiver. To an urchin, losing a body part was a permanent thing, not something that would ever be repaired. He still had not gotten used to the somewhat cavalier attitude many of the adventurers at Faebrook had about such disfiguring injuries.

Seeing Rowan go silent, Fiin smiled and opened up one of the books she had brought, immersing herself within. Taking the cue that the conversation was over, Rowan returned to his own book, putting the discussion to the back of his mind as he struggled to commit the information within the book to memory.

“So…” It was Fiin that restarted the conversation, her eyes abandoning the book in front of her for the countenance of the boy across from her. “Once you quit being a porter, which role were you thinking of going for?”

Although her voice sounded steady, the tone betrayed her anticipation of Rowan’s answer. There was a right answer to this question, or at least, there were several wrong ones. Looking up, Rowan blinked at her, drumming his fingers upon the table as he contemplated the matter.

If he was being honest, he wasn’t entirely sure what role he desired to play on the stage that was the dungeons of Faebrook. In his youth, he had always envisioned himself taking on the starring role, the dashing hero with his shining armour and magnificent sword.

Now? Rowan was not so sure. Even if he wanted to be a vanguard and lead his party from the front, it was unlikely that he could even afford the armour, let alone convince others to join him with his combat skills.

Slayer was out for the same reason. Although his performance in Combat class was improving, he was still lackluster compared to the majority of his peers, and there was no reason to choose him over someone more able with a sword. While some slayers did use magic, first-years’ magic was not powerful enough to act as a proper slayer in a dungeon, not without skills the likes of Morgana’s anyways.

That left archaeologist and healer. Between the two, Rowan actually preferred the idea of being a healer. His own experiences had informed him of the value of a proper healer, and the idea of being able to heal his own wounds heavily appealed to him. In contrast, while archaeologists were cool, they didn’t really do anything that he valued anywhere near as much as the ability to stay alive, one of his key values.

Of course, he didn’t really know what it took to become either, but both seemed to rely on magic, and given that that was the one area he was doing acceptably in, they seemed to fit. Or at least they suited him better than the martial classes did.

“A healer, I guess?” Rowan said after a minute.

Rather than look disappointed that he had not said archaeologist, Fiin instead appeared understanding, her face wistful as she stared off into space. “A healer, eh? I get that.”

“What did you want to be? Originally, I mean,” Rowan asked, sensing that there was more to the story than Fiin was letting on. “Did you always want to be an archaeologist?”

Fiin shook her head. “No, I actually wanted to be a healer,” she confessed. “I know it’s cliche, but I’ve always loved the idea of being the one responsible for keeping my teammates alive, the one that denies death its due, and brings back an injured party member from the brink. My grandfather was a healer, and I was raised on his knee, hearing all these amazing stories that were only possible because he was there to keep everyone alive.”

“What changed?” Rowan asked.

“Me,” Fiin said, a trace of bitterness in her voice. “I lacked the necessary talent required to become a healer. You haven’t taken Magical Theory II yet, have you?”

Rowan shook his head.

Fiin exhaled, appearing to look through him as her countenance became dark. “Healers require extremely fine control over their mana, so as to not end up destroying their patients with the same power they wield. Those that don’t have that control cannot learn healing magic. My control over magic is good, but doesn’t meet the standard for Kalthiminn healers, so I was unable to enter the Healing class. I could’ve been a slayer, but I’m pretty smart, and I prefer not to get my hands dirty like they do, so when Jaro approached me about joining their party and I found out they needed an archaeologist, I became one.”

“I’m sorry,” Rowan said lamely.

“Don’t be,” Fiin told him. “It’s not all bad. I’m still part of an adventuring party, and a pretty highly ranked one at the academy. While we archaeologists like to complain about our role, it’s still pretty gratifying when you solve some ancient puzzle and get to watch everyone stare in awe.” Checking the magical sundial on the wall, Fiin suddenly jumped up, gathering her things at lightning speed. “Damn, I was supposed to meet a friend an hour ago. Good talking to you, Rowan, and keep up the hard work! I’m always free if you have any questions.”

With that, she was gone, her blonde braid disappearing around the corner, leaving Rowan with much to think about. However, one thing she had mentioned stood out above the rest.

“Damn, my grades really do suck,” Rowan muttered, turning his attention back to his book.