"Jack? Are you alright?"

Jack flinched out of his daze, looking into the concerned eyes of his young friend who now had so little in common with the vulnerable youth of fourteen that he had seemed in the depths of living dream. It was as if he had gained a handful of inches and years in just a handful of hours. The strikingly handsome youth was now most definitely playing the lead role in the saga of his life, a bemused Jack thought, wondering just how high Drake's Charisma now was.

The youth in question grinned under Jack's regard. "Careful, Jack. We wouldn't want to give Cornelia the wrong idea. Gaze at me like that any longer, and I fear the poor girl will be heartbroken!"

Jack lurched back out of his dazed perusal. Finesse check failed! Only to fall completely out of his chair to the warm laughter of his friend.

Jack winced and shook his dizzy head. "Sorry, Drake. It's just..." he yawned. "It's been a really long night."

Drake nodded in wholehearted agreement, yawning and stretching like the young Adonis he had somehow become, for all that his beaming smile was still that of the boy Jack had rescued just hours before."That it has, my friend." Drake furrowed his brow. "And you look like you haven't slept a wink in days."

Jack smirked. "Sure as hell feels like it. You, on the other hand, look like you spent the last year training in some martial academy, and somehow forgot to tell me."

Drake's warm chuckle lightened the air as he passed Jack a fresh cup of hot chocolate someone had been thoughtful enough to brew.

Jack took a soothing sip before wincing, for a painful heartbeat remembering his mother of a lifetime ago who would so often brew rich chocolate drinks to warm them all during the cold winter months... just as his mother of this world had, only months ago. Jack wiped the unexpected sting in his eyes, suddenly longing for the warmth and love of two very different women he would cherish all his days, for all that one he had said farewell to one just a few months back, and the other he hadn't seen for untold ages. Women who had always taken such tender care of him, their gentle smiles, laughter, and encouragement the rays of love that had warmed his earliest days, just as their soft voices had once soothed so many childhood nightmares away.

"What's wrong, Jack?"

Jack smiled apologetically at his now worried looking friend. "Sorry, fatigue's making me a bit maudlin." Jack flashed a grin and saluted Drake with his cacao. "Now as for you, on the other hand..."

His friend smirked. "What about me?"

Jack smiled. "Never mind, I think I can figure out how it is that you're now just as tall as me."

Drake laughed. "Turns out leveling up agrees with me in more ways than one," he said, giving a rueful shake of his head. "Of course, I, like pretty much every noble Scion who's played Glory's Gamble, thought long and hard on the best way to play a mage or warrior, should I ever wake up reborn as a Delver, which no one ever thinks will actually happen to them, because no one's stupid enough to actually risk being warped and twisted by delves twisting into living dreams that kill almost every mortal that dares those depths."

"Pretty much," Jack agreed, turning his gaze when the still too raw memories of innocent souls pleading for their lives before being transformed to abominations suddenly ripped through his soul, hardly registering the crack as a too tightly squeezed fist shattered the cup in his hand.

"Jack?"

Yet with a few whispered words, the sharp sting of cut flesh faded with the tingle of near instant healing, a deep gash that should have taken days to heal fading away in seconds. And Jack couldn't help but shake his head at the wonder of being able to power up and embrace what amounted to fantastic magical powers, even if he was haunted by the screams of all those who hadn't been so lucky.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing himself to lift his head and meet his friend's worried gaze. "Sorry. It's just..."

"I know." And Drake's own haunted gaze made it clear he did indeed know what was troubling Jack, all too well. Having been the only soul Jack had managed to save amongst all those who had been forced into the living dream manifesting as a Delve right under the college.

"If it helps, Jack... my seneschal made it clear that the visions haunting us should fade to something of a dream, after a good night's rest, which neither of us got, last night." He chuckled softly before solemnly handing Jack a leather-bound journal, along with a quill that Magesight immediately pinged as being magical. "That's why... anyway, he invited us to write down our experiences, and recommended that we do so after every Delve. Because even if we aren't technically Delvers, and that I, as the scion of royalty, must never, ever refer to myself as anything but a lord mastering his personal demesne, it's a custom The Guild put into practice millennia ago."

Jack blinked at that. "Really."

His friend nodded solemnly. "Ever since the ancient days of the Risen Queen, Guild bards have made it their solemn duty to record the heroic exploits of those who dared the depths of living dream, declaring those madmen heroes helping to preserve our fragile reality from the living nightmare that would consume us all."

Jack swallowed, surprised to feel his heart race as, just for a second, he tasted memories of warmth and the laughter, basking in the camaraderie of friends who had dared far more than he ever had, struck with the vision of strikingly beautiful men and women radiating a majesty he could scarce put into words. Before shaking away those fragmented visions that faded away like the last wisps of a dream as he focused once more on his friend's counsel.

"So who knows where we would be right now, Jack, did adventurers not always stand ready to risk their lives, closing wild Delves and thus rupturing dangerous pockets of Shadow. The Guild believes we should never forget the exploits of heroes past or present that would otherwise be lost to legend, or forgotten with no recording of their passage at all. Because when you perish in Shadow, you don't just die. All memory of you dies with your passing. It's almost like you had never lived at all... save in the tales recorded by the bards."

Jack whistled. "No kidding."

Drake nodded. "I'm not sure how accurate that actually is, but the Guild bards fear that, one day, there will be no more heroes. And it will only be by recounting those stories, whether read by firelight or through the songs of countless bards within countless taverns, that we might possibly find sanctuary from the perils of darkest dream and the howling nightmares that would consume us all."

Jack couldn't help smiling. "You're a natural storyteller yourself. I felt a chill with those words."

His friend laughed. "My seneschal, Jevons, is a wizard with all things connected to the Guild." He shard a wink with his friend. "I sometimes wonder if he might have been one of those ancient bards himself in his heyday, back before the stories even recorded things like a hero's levels and skills, or anything to symbolize their interface sheets at all. Of course that would make him..." Drake gave an uncertain shrug. "A thousand years old?"

Jack laughed. "If only we could all age so gracefully as he."

His friend's smile took on a bitter cast. "But we can. For you and I now both walk the Path of Peril. In our own way we have already transcended mortality's grossest limitation, and we will never age a single day. That is, until the day we make a single fatal mistake, and are wiped free of the board of fate forever."

Jack winced. "Oh yeah. That's technically correct, isn't it?"

His friend nodded. "And that's why I put such an emphasis on the... physical aspects of my being, with the three levels I gained, when my interface made it clear this would be my one and only chance to shape the man I would have become, had I not spent so many semesters of my youth living within the Arcane Academy. And since I don't want to spend forever looking like a slender 14 year old boy that only Academy girls, or those with less than healthy appetites, would be interested in, suddenly min-maxing my build had far less priority than forging myself into someone I wouldn't mind looking back at me every time I gaze in the mirror over the next dozen or so centuries."

Jack smirked. "I can see how that might take precedence over 'leet character building."

"Quite. So my focus was on Strength, Vitality, and Finesse. Because even if I'll never be a front-line fighter, it was what I needed to do to push my maturity from 14 to 17 years old, and be utterly free of the clumsiness that would normally result from a 6 inch, 50 pound growth spurt over a single summer, let alone a single night. And Base Appearance wasn't something I dared skip either. Not if I wanted to force-age myself as gracefully as possible in the span of hours. Because even if the interface didn't say anything about acne scars or jaw distortions, the faces we now wear really will be ours for the foreseeable eternity, and I sure as hell wasn't taking any chances."

Jack laughed at that and gave his friend a thumbs-up, understanding completely. "A Finesse and Appearance burst to counter any chance you might end up perpetually clumsy, or with permanent acne scars and a distorted jaw, makes perfect sense. Best of all, if it turns out that you didn't need it, and you didn't, you'll come out the other side moving with the grace of a master swordsman or dancer, and looking as handsome as the lead of any movie. And you do." Jack grinned. "I can only hope that I would have had the common sense to do the same, were I in your shoes and given just one chance to shape myself into the man I most wanted to be, without fucking it all up."

Drake flashed a relieved smile, as if he had almost been afraid Jack would judge him for not min-maxing his character like a gamer from a lifetime ago, people who never actually had to live as the massive 9 foot tall horned warrior with scaled skin he or she so enjoyed running dungeons with.

"And with the final three points..."

"Willpower for even deadlier shouts, or Mana for more shout-juice?"

His friend smirked. "Charisma. I'm not going to lie, Jack. After my life meant absolutely nothing in the callous hands of my enemies, it's nice to think that somehow the story of my life now matters in the eyes of a normally uncaring fate, and that other people are more likely to give a fig for the charming youth stumbling into their lives than they normally would any random stranger."

Jack grinned. "A Charisma boost so you really are the hero of your own tale, not just a random NPC."

Drake laughed. "Now you're talking like a Delver, but yes. Exactly that." His sky blue eyes grew haunted. "And I will do the same for them, so they're not just playing the fool when they gaze at me like their long-lost brother. I can promise you that, Jack. If I see an innocent soul in genuine need..." He swallowed. "Well, I'll do my damnedest to be the hero of their tale, just as I had once needed a hero of my own."

Jack couldn't help flushing and looking away from his friend's too intent gaze.

Both touched and incredibly embarrassed by the warm hand now squeezing his shoulder with such affection.

"Thank you, Jack. You know you're now as close to me as family, right?"

Jack smirked. "Close enough to cadge a decent meal from?"

His friend laughed. "Just as soon as you finish scribbling your tale, you and I will be heading back to my family estate. I think Father might just have a feast planned in your honor." He looked toward the now empty bed that Jack, in a fugue, hadn't even realized his patient had left.

"And don't worry about Aroust. He and I have an understanding, I think."

Jack's eyes widened at that. "Really."

His friend grinned. "Finished with your scribbles? Excellent. Come on, let's head downstairs."

And a bemused Jack happily let his friend take the lead, still in a bit of a daze as he went down the flight of polished wooden steps descending into the hall leading both to the kitchens and to the inn's foyer and dining hall, the latter being the path the pair chose today, greeted by the warmth and good cheer of no less than a dozen morning patrons adding life to the otherwise empty dining hall Jack only now appreciated the true size of, when it wasn't filled with countless scores of guests.

And there a smiling Aroust was, looking hardly the worse for wear, save for a single silver scar upon one cheek as he gave a rather humorous account to the morning patrons of the night before.

"And then the academy's newest prodigy actually managed to slip grease, all unexpected, on the Parthenon steps and terrace. And there I was, flying through the air! Caught so off guard by a dose of the unexpected that the boy's illusions actually got the best of me!" The man gave a rueful chuckle, echoed by the audience.

"And once I fell on my arse like a right rube, the clever lad chose that very moment to cast an Etherial gloom spell that had me actually believing I was melting!" Aroust gave a mock shake of his head. "Toughest gold I ever earned, and it just goes to show that it's not just skill with the blade that a duelist has to watch out for, but tactics no sane man would ever, in their right mind, dare!"

"Except when those tactics work!" said one already sauced patron dressed in doublet and hose of cotton and silk, a bemused Jack noting a profusion of colorfully dressed folk nodding in agreement that were wearing tight doublets and hose with puffy half-sleeves, bedecked by by a number of muffin caps and feathered hats as well. The finery in evidence was, in fact, very much like the attire he had once associated with the renaissance fairs of a lifetime ago. The Victorian era attire of the night before was hardly in evidence, and he halfway wondered if attire that had once been centuries apart in their evolution was now separated only in terms of class, or perhaps, the time of day.

Aroust's eyes were hard as agate, even as he smiled. "Except when they work. And that's a lesson right there for all of you lads and lasses. The life of the sell-sword is one of adventure and peril in equal measure, and nothing will extend your life more than getting a proper measure of your foe."

This earned sympathetic chuckles and what seemed all the free drinks Aroust could cadge from his listeners, Jack amused to see him playing the role of charming rapscallion so well. Still, when he offered Jack and Drake the tiniest of nods and a wink as they slipped out the door, Jack couldn't help smiling back, thinking Aroust did a wonderful job of both playing and distracting the crowd, as well as mitigating the role played by magics Jack would rather no one know anything about. And now, dressed in a plain, if well-tailored linen shirts, leather shoes, and comfortable breeches, Jack and Drake looked far more like up and coming apprentices or the sons of shopkeepers than they did the steampunk armored duelists of the night before.

And not a soul was looking their way.

Drake couldn't help flashing a satisfied smile as they left the inn. "Aroust knows his role well. The man has the crowd eating out of his hand as the poor wronged sell-sword caught in a lurch, never mind that he's up two full gold crowns!"

Jack laughed at that, and he couldn't help but take a deep breath of the rose-scented air and smile as they made their way along the grand boulevard that was Wizard's Row, Jack noting more than a few robed individuals radiating a certain presence as an interesting contrast to the top hats and waist coats being worn by any number of self-important looking men who were all graduates of the Arcane Academy, according to Drake. Etherial mages, every last one.

"As if I couldn't have guessed that much," Jack said with a smile, before catching the eyes of a pair of identical green-eyed beauties perhaps his age, wearing violet colored dresses that went down to her knees and cute little pillbox hats. Their twin dimpled smiles left Jack momentarily speechless. Before the closest of the pair flashed her wand in an explosion of pink clouds and dancing faeries as she dashed off with her sister, hand in hand, laughing at the pair of dumbstruck boys as they filled the air with clouds of etherial magic, each with a wand in hand.

Jack gazed at the pair for long moments. "What did I just see?"

Drake smirked. "The Airy sisters. And I do believe they now have their eyes on you." He then frowned at the handful of other men and women now gazing at them both with frank curiosity as they paused in their perusal of the numerous cottage-like shops nestled against the magnificent giant rosebushes so artfully covering the academy walls, clearly enchanted to flood the air with a profusion of blossoms that Jack didn't mind a bit, the steady fall of petals like a glorious summer rain of color and scent.

"Come on, Jack. Let's get moving. It's not quite time yet for the city to figure out who you really are."

Jack smirked at those words, though kept his friend's pace. "Who exactly am I? And what are all those little cottage shops selling?"

"Magical supplies, of course. This is Wizard's Row, after all. Adjoining the college, and this city being home to god knows how many hundreds of graduates serving as hungry clientele for all the devices enterprising merchants have in stock. To say nothing of apothecaries and herbalists whose tinctures serve as the bridge between low and high magic both."

Jack grinned. "There you go, knocking earthly mages again, when what you really mean to say is that even your most esteemed ethereal mages specializing in illusion and dream who are so certain their art is superior to all others, are all brought back down to earth whenever they need a tincture for a cough or sore throat."

Drake snorted. "There you go, mocking things you don't understand again. But yes. Technically your right." He frowned thoughtfully as another pair of elegantly dressed girls waved their wands before the profusion of petals falling all around them that swirled into a pair of miniature gentlemen now bowing before the giggling duo before escorting them to a nearby shop where a wizened old lady welcomed them inside with cheerful words and a smile, petals and all.

"It's not that Etherial magic is worthless against the illnesses of the world. Far from it. The memory and dream of ones ideal form can do much to render illnesses as transient and ephemeral as a dream itself. So long as one recognizes the signs at the very beginning of illness, at which point, with proper visualization and spells, those symptoms, soon fading, are all it will ever be. And as for the horrors of old age... Drake flashed a poignant smile. "You only fear such, because you've never experienced the Hidden Kingdom in all its wonder and glory. But perhaps one day, you shall."

Jack blinked, doing his best to ignore the eyes of a number of girls he sensed still measuring them both with a strange sort of... hunger.

Drake smirked. "Don't worry, no one's going to eat you. At least, not in the way you fear."

Jack blinked at that. "How can you possibly... oh, we're still party-linked."

Drake nodded. "We are. And you're not wearing any promise ring on your finger or around your neck, which means you're fair game, until proven otherwise."

Jack winced. "Ah." Then he gazed pointedly at his friend's bare fingers, earning a laugh from Drake who just shrugged and smiled, not explaining anything further.

"Okay, keep your secrets! But you've definitely piqued my interest about this Hidden Kingdom. How does it lead to eternal—" Jack's words were cut off by his friends finger, and a firm shake of his head. But what really chilled Jack was to see almost a dozen smiling youths walking along the boulevard wearing everything from robes to ankle length cotton dresses to morning coats and top hats, and everything else that one might imagine a wizard of the ancient or recently past British empire might wear, all abruptly twisting about to glare Jack's way, shaking their heads in eerie synchronicity.

"Some things are best not spoken allowed, Jack. Especially not beyond the bounds of the Academy," said Drake.

"You fools are lucky you're just a hedge-maze away," groused one hard-eyed girl who hardly looked more than twelve, despite her overly-embroidered dress, glaring up at Jack before darting away in a profusion of colored laughter and liquid sound before disappearing entirely. And Jack could only shake his head as his friend tisked and quickly led him away.

"It seemed kind of like..."

"Yes. But think no more on it. We keep to our own."

"But that means that I..."

"Obviously."

"But Drake, I'm not—"

"Of course you are. You're going to apply with me this afternoon. Next semester is just a few weeks away." His friend flashed a hungry smile of his own. "But before then, you and I are going to adventure for all we're worth, and get just as powerful as we possibly can!"

Jack winced at his friend's enthusiasm. "Yeah, I tried that once before. With five other friends. We nearly got killed. Repeatedly."

Drake's gaze hardened. "What are you saying?"

Jack sighed. "I'm saying we need a hell of a lot more than two people."

Drake nodded, smiling with relief. "Oh. For a minute there I had feared that—"

Jack smirked. "I dared the Path of Peril for a reason. Of course I'm not stopping now. It's just that, well..."

His friend winked, eyes flashing with secrets and what Jack was certain would be trouble and excitement in equal measure. "Don't worry. Father and Jevons have everything well in hand."

Drake smiled and nodded at the pair of fully armored guards they passed as they entered the tree-lined boulevard of what was perhaps the nicest part of the city, save, of course, for the perfect summer's day beauty of Wizard's Row. The closest guard's scowl turned at once to an alarmed blink. "Lord de Leone, you have no escort! Shall I—"

"It's quite alright," Drake assured. "It's a fine morning for a walk, though, isn't it?"

"Um... yes, of course, Your Grace," said the fully armored guard, saluting and banging his poleaxe upon the stone slab at his feet.

"Here, put these on," Drake said, passing Jack a sheathed smallsword, felt covered arming doublet, and feathered beret covered in crimson silk with a discrete core of padded linen Jack thought just might save someone's skull from an overhand swing, at least form a light fencing saber or spadroon, while donning the same.

Jack gave a satisfied nod, recognizing the quilted doublet as the protection it was, while still being form-fitted and tailored to striking effect. Definitely a lord's protection if there ever was one, beyond the steampunk gear they had worn the night before.

Drake caught Jack's thoughtful perusal. "Because you never know when you're going to be unexpectedly challenged... or worse.

Jack nodded in quick agreement, though he was frowning down at the light fencing blade his friend helped him secure. "I actually have no idea how to use these things," he muttered.

Drake grinned. "A gap in your knowledge we'll be correcting soon enough."

Jack smirked. "Of course we will. I take it no one minds what kind of shield I bring to bear, even if my weapon is limited to a pound in weight?"

Drake blinked at this, before flashing Jack an evil grin. "Come to think about it, there are no codicils regarding shields whatsoever. No doubt because bucklers of all sizes and design have been all the rage from time to time, but small, light, and easy to carry almost inevitably wins out."

Jack nodded. "So, if someone should pull a full-sized magical shield out of nowhere..."

Drake laughed. "No one can say a damned thing about it. Now come on, let's go," he said, the pair picking up their pace with Drake nodding amiably enough to at least a handful of impeccably dressed lords and ladies in renaissance regalia who nodded or curtsyed back as the pair made their way along the scenic boulevard, passing at least several tree lined parks wafting the scents of wildflowers and wonder, the last one graced with a handful of young ladies showing off their wand-wielding skills with clouds of colorful smoke, ephemeral dragons belching storms of butterflies and similar feats of prestidigitation.

Jack couldn't help smiling with awe, feeling a giddy lightness just sensing the joy taken in the arcane displays as much as by the sheer beauty of living in this tiny slice of paradise.

"Amazing, isn't it? Making the ephemeral real. Bringing figments of dream and wonder to vivid life, showing that there's absolutely no limit to the glorious possibilities in store for us in this world... and the realm of wonder just a single enlightenment away." He laughed with delight. "The worlds a big, wondrous place, my friend, with more layers of darkest dream and etherial wonder than you can imagine! Because whether you're a studious Etherial Mage spending years turning history's echo of the most legendary spells to your own ends, or an Adventurer becoming a legend in your own right in just a few short years... There are many paths to power in this world, Jack. A truth we'd both do well to remember."

Jack grinned. "I agree completely. And if there were as many cute adventurers as there are Etherial mages getting ready for the next semester, I think the Path of Peril would be far more appealing!" He winced. "Not that Stormy needs to hear that, of course."

Drake laughed. "Your Stormy truly is one of a kind. The rest of us make due with more attainable partners. And I'd introduce you to all the young ladies you see looking our way, but we're sort of pressed for time." With that, Drake doffed his beret with a wink and smile for the coven of ethereal sorceresses now gazing so intently at them before picking up his pace to the point that he and Jack truly were moving at a brisk walk, almost a jog, but at least Drake seemed to be appreciating the beauty and splendor around him just as much as Jack was.

That was, until the young lord's flashing eyes spotted one particular manor fenced by a wall of silver alloyed bars that seemed designed to showcase the lush flower-covered gardens and the grand mansion within more than serve as actual protection, near the exact same design as every other manor facing the tree-lined boulevard they had passed.

"So, why are we glaring at that particular manor?" asked Jack.

"Why the hell do you think?"

Jack winced a Drake's hard gaze."Right."

His friend chuckled in soft apology. "Sorry, you didn't need that."

Jack shrugged. "After what those slimy bastards almost did... and trust me, I know their treacherous ways better than most, I don't blame you a bit."

This earned a curious look from his friend. "Do tell."

Jack grinned and winked, finger to nostril. "Let's just say a certain lord's favorite pawns, or should I say rooks, won't be returning to the roost any time soon."

Drake laughed at that. "One of these days, when we're not in the thick of it, I'll ask for the details."

Jack smirked. "That might be for the best," he said, before giving an impressed whistle when his friend at last stopped before a particularly grand silver alloyed gate with walls that actually seemed designed as much for defense as decor, flashing a genuinely pleased smile.

"And now, time for you to put all worries and cares aside and relax for a bit." With a soft whisper Jack couldn't quite catch, and the wave of a glowing wand he only now noted Drake carrying, the gate before them was opened and Jack got his first glimpse of what life outside the dungeon was truly like for his friend.