Chapter 10

“Heyo! Sounds like it’s going swimmingly for you.” It happens one morning when you’ve started getting used to exploring the second floor. You sit down at your table in the tavern to await your companions, only to have someone else sit down nimbly across from you. “I heard you finished off those newbie hunters?” You didn’t see this coming. The shadow under the hood shifts. You can detect a grin on the face that watches you: someone who looks like a mischievous young girl. The curves of her body are almost statuesque. Mm. You nod, putting the pieces together. It’s that informant. Keeping one ear on the hubbub of the busy tavern full of adventurers, you thank her. Not for praising you, of course. For the information she gave you. “Aw, don’t mention it. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think I’d get something out of it.” Hmm. You don’t pry further but fiddle with the drinking cup in front of you. It’s just lemon water. You won’t eat until your party members get up. You’re fairly certain you’ll all go into the dungeon today, but it would be best to check with them first. “So where’s the crew?” You left them in the stables. You didn’t think they could keep up with you, with your need to train and practice day and night. Still, you feel a touch of disquiet at the girl’s approbation. The tavern is full of adventurers with money on their minds; there’s no special need to flatter you in particular. Perhaps it’s simply that those who do good in this world expecting no reward are…unusual, let us say. You know that, and you feel a bit bad, dragging your party members along on your own damn foolish, idealistic crusade. It’s perfectly natural not to wish to do something that isn’t going to get you anything in this life. You don’t recall hearing any rumors about your party for being so special or anything. But that leaves the question of where this informant got wind of you… “Oh, just around town, you know?” she says, as if this should be perfectly obvious. “People trade rumors like how you talk about the weather—just a way of saying hello. And people like to talk about parties that are making a name for themselves.” She waves a hand to summon a waitress and orders a lemon water. You watch the server go, rabbit ears flapping, ample bosom bouncing, round butt shaking along with her tail, and you think: Most likely sources of info about us would be the old armorer or the nun at the Trade God’s temple. They were the only ones you told after you came back from the newbie hunters’ den. The dead have no need for equipment. Sell it off, make a little money the living can use. You don’t have any qualms about that. And anyway, a modest donation was necessary to have the rank tags you retrieved properly buried. The armorer or the nun, then… And considering the nun’s personality, you’re pretty sure it was her. A few coins in the palm and she’d likely tell anybody anything. When you mention your suspicion, the informant only says, “Ah, who knows?” and cackles. “Anyway, I’m glad things are going so well for you. But remember, if you let your guard down, you’ll die. Occupational hazard for you.” You purse your lips. Pretty nasty thing to say—even if she’s exactly right. But you don’t voice your objection. Come to this tavern regularly for even a few days and the observation becomes inescapable. A party of adventurers who had been sitting around a table the day before last weren’t there yesterday. And today, a different party with brand-new equipment fills the seats. You have no way of knowing how long they can resist the Death. That’s something you don’t even know about your own party. “Point is, don’t turn your back.” The girl seems able to read your mind—and she giggles. “After the second floor comes the third floor, and after that comes the fourth. Long road ahead. Can’t have you dying.” You nod as she sips her lemon water. Yes, you agree. Can’t have that. After all, you can slash your way to the second floor now—and soon the third. And that isn’t entirely unknown territory; others have gone before you. If you want to see how far your blade can take you, you’ll have to challenge that third floor. “Though, t’be fair,” the girl says, snapping you out of your reverie, “I guess they still haven’t found the stairs down to the fourth floor.” You look up, and across from you is a half-drunk lemon water. One of the waitresses must have neglected to clean it up, you conclude, and reseat yourself in your chair. Suddenly, you notice the murmur around you rising like a tide, and you feel like you’re smack in the center of activity here in the tavern. You figure your party members should show up anytime now… “My pardon—would you mind if we shared this table with you?” The voice is unexpected but clear and strong, exuding such refinement as to give you a twinge of jealousy. You turn to discover the handsome young man in his diamond armor and equipment. Beside him is a silver-haired young woman so small she almost looks like a shadow. A rhea? you wonder for a second, but no, she must be human. She seems so slight, though. A scout, perhaps. You reply that as they can see, you’re by yourself and don’t mind at all. The man nods and sits facing you. The young woman brings a chair over from a nearby table and sits with her legs dangling. Maybe she means to indicate that she’s not here to eavesdrop. You ask if they’re partied together, to which the Knight of Diamonds replies, “We’re associates. She comes from the orphanage, but I must say…she’s saved my skin many a time.”