The first thing the party did was make a camp by the glen. The portal archway was cold and under shade. With the shortcut between the many long leagues dissipated, it was only another ruined archway.

  Plain camp items lasted twelve hours. It was only early afternoon, so the twelve-hour timeout that caused a camp’s tents to pack themselves up would occur past midnight. This gave the group a short period of late-night contemplation, as was the style in lands where illumination spells were undiscovered. Calaf and Jelena spent this waking hour being very busy in deep contemplation that the rest of the group dare not disturb. Late-night reverie complete, the group popped another camp and slept again until sunup.

  Dawn arrived over Fort Duran. Ancient ramparts peeked out through fallen leaves. Minor fire damage acquired in last year’s heretic purges still marked the midpoint of the tallest tower.

  No bodies littered the ground. There was faint evidence of great pyres, no doubt used to mass-burn the hundreds of dead bodies that filled the fort late last summer. Cleanup was thorough. There would be no place for the rot to take hold here. This made sense in a way; Fort Duran was right next to the pilgrimage road. Dozens of mid-leveled Squires would be stopping by in a month and a half. Appearances were important.

  They left the camp where it was – the fire was already out, and the tents would remain for a few hours yet – and walked down a short hill to the fort.

  It was late evening when Calaf arrived here last. He glanced around, recognizing features. On his first arrival, he’d snuck in around back and mingled with a refugee camp hanging off the back entrance. That door was closed now and reinforced. This dungeon was a premier pilgrimage site off the tank class. The actual dungeon run would be highly curated.

  Last time, the dungeon had been cleared out and utilized for its original purpose as a fort. This would be the first time seeing it in its proper configuration.

  “Never been to this one,” Jelena said. “Y’know, when it’s not under siege.”

  Enkidu snarled. “It’s not that impressive.”

  The group took a long route around the fort. A small lake, itself part of a long-disused moat, awaited on the east side.

  “At least we get a nice view.” Calaf shrugged as they rounded the lake.

  The horrors of the massacre on this ground had a diminished effect on Calaf. Perhaps he was growing numb. Or mayhaps the horrors of the rot were overwriting all other fears.

  A barbican formed the end of a long bridge leading up to Fort Duran’s main gate and primary bailey. Two guards, a mite bit under-leveled stood blocking the entrance with spears.

  “Hmmm. Cleric and a Stalwart,” Zilara said, examining the pair via the Interface. “They’re sure not here to actually put up a fight.”

  “Probably just a ceremonial position.” Jelena shrugged. “Dungeon-sitters. Basically.”

  Zilara let out a snort at the moniker.

  “Kind of takes the sense of adventure and discovery out of dungeon diving,” the holy child quipped.

  “True. Well, a few hundred people run through it each season.” Jelena turned around to gaze over the mountainous woods. “Hey, our hideout isn’t too terribly far from here.”

  Indeed, the tallest tower in the fort was just visible over the tree line.

  “Hey, Enkidu. Want to head back to the treehouse and retrieve some supplies?”

  Enkidu glowered. “Why?”

  “Because we don’t know how long this dungeon will take. Maybe we’ll need someone to bring back a treasure chest full of our stuff.”

  “Without the Interface I’ll have to drag everything back to the Fort manually.”

  “Well, it can’t be them.” Jelena smiled at Calaf. “They need to level up. We’re well behind schedule for the dungeon circuit. Duran enemy pool should have high rewards.”

  Enkidu looked off to the north woods, then back to the Fort.

  “A walk will do you good, big guy.” Jelena pointed her fingers all slyly at the wild man. He gave no response.

  “Very well,” he said after a time.

  “Just make sure nobody has found our hiding place, make sure everything is clean and tidy, and come back,” Jelena said.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “As you wish.” Enkidu breathed heavily out his nose.

  Resigned, the wild man cut his own path over leaf-carpeted ground as he trudged off to the north.

  “Sending him on a dire-snipe hunt?” Zilara asked.

  “Eh, he’s growing antsy around all these church dungeons,” Jelena answered. “Besides, if he’s not here to steal kills, he won’t affect your experience point distribution.”

  “Welcome to Fort Duran!” one of the dungeon-sitters said in a well-rehearsed spiel.

  “Hey,” Jelena said, hand on her hip. “Not much of a line.”

  “T-this is the off-season,” said the other guard. “Most aspiring Paladins travel the pilgrimage route from the first station towards the capital. They don’t reach the fort until nearly fall.”

  Well, it was nearly Fall outside of this microclimate. It was forever autumn here. Hence the name. Still, Calaf let the misconception stand.

  “We’ve been instructed to keep ne’er-do-wells from entering the fort,” said the left-hand guard.

  The pair was listed as Miriam and Maurice in the Interface. They were below Zilara’s level. They could be overpowered with ease. If it came to that. But bluffs and guile could get you past lockdowns and brute force. And guile didn’t result in tripped alarms or hostage situations, provided the plan worked.

  “Ceremonial gate guards, huh?” Jelena gently squeezed Calaf’s hand. “What a coincidence. My beau—”

  “If we see any unsavory characters, we’ll be sure to let you know,” Calaf said. “Is the fort open?”

  Maurice, the rightmost guard, nodded.

  “Indeed, fair uninitiated madam. Though we must warn you that the holy dungeons are curated for Branded folk of the church.”

  “I once was a convert, aye.” Jelena motioned to her eyepatch, it wasn’t even a lie. “Lost it in a tragic workplace accident. Haberdashery. Most unfortunate. Getting Branded in the other eye back in Firefield on the morrow.”

  “Oh, my.” Miriam put her free hand near her mouth. “How horrible.”

  “Indeed,” Jelena said, feigning tears through her good eye. “My darling husband here…”

  Calaf briefly forgot to breathe. This wasn’t one of their stock alibis. Jelena held their interlocked hands up for the pair of guards.

  “… is mere levels away from becoming a Paladin, and being commissioned into the Arbitral Auxiliaries. We hope to be a Paladin and Cleric in time for our first anniversary.”

  “Aye, a noble goal,” Maurice said.

  “Aye.” Jelena echoed. “And for that, we just need one strong run of the holy Fort Duran Du Loc and the requisite rampart rubble, and my dear beloved’s rank is assured.”

  Maurice nodded. “Kay, then. Who’s she to you, though?”

  The guard motioned at Zilara, standing between and behind the pair.

  “She’s our niece,” Calaf said. “My side of the family.”

  “Here for a church school report on Roland,” Zilara said simply.

  Miriam gave the trio dire-puppy dog eyes.

  “Awww. So sweet.” With Miriam placated, the leftmost guard retracted her spear.

  “Very well. You may pass.” Maurice, too, brought his spear up.

  Jelena and Calaf gave the guards a nod.

  “Just let us know if you’re overwhelmed,” Maurice said.

  “A guided tour option will be ready to go by pilgrimage season,” Miriam added.

  It was a recurring alibi. Zilara as Calaf’s niece. She couldn’t be the pair’s daughter. Age ranges would stretch the credulity of targets if they thought about it too much. Those twin-brand eyes were hereditary, and Zilara’s chilly northern complexion was a bit too light to pass as half-Japellan.

  “Well that was easy,” Zilara said once they passed through the gatehouse proper.

  “Eh, their duty is purely ceremonial.” Jelena nudged Calaf in the ribs. “Probably just glad to have someone visiting the dungeon so early.”

  Wait a minute.

  Calaf searched his Inventory. He checked his physical person.

  “I don’t have a spear,” he said.

  Dungeon runs could end fast without preparation.

  “It’s an abandoned fort. I’m sure we can procure one.”

  The trio entered the bailey. It was here where Paladin Joan met with refugees and locals sent adrift by the seasonal heretic hunts and promised to protect them. It was also here where Calaf and Jelena had met again after a fairly long period of absence.

  Now, though, three sets of rusty and collapsed armor assembled themselves dead-center in the bailey.

  So that was the play. Old equipment that rose and stabbed at pilgrims. Saves on raising dire-beasts for the slaughter seasonally. Come to think of it the other two dungeons had no proper dire-beasts, only automatons and chimeras.

  Zilara opened with lightning. The bolt hit metal armor and arced from breastplate to breastplate, stunning all three.

  “Whoa. That was unexpected,” Zilara sad. “It chains!”

  Calaf knocked the nearest enchanted enemy to the ground with a shield bash. The armor fell apart after a mighty blow. It began to reassemble itself while the remaining two enemies continued to jerk, stunned. Bereft of a weapon, he leapt and bashed it again. He slew the first of three creatures with pure blunt damage from his kite shield.

  “Alright, got a weapon,” Calaf said.

  “Clear!” Zilara said.

  Calaf jumped back as Zilara stunned the other two enemies with lightning again. Following up, Calaf stabbed the rightmost creature with his shield. To his surprise, it did less than half the damage of the normally-nonlethal shield bash.

  “Ah, they’re weak to blunt damage,” said the Squire. “We should have brought Gael’s mallet.”

  They’d left it with the Battlemages. It seemed the best place for it. Nobody had the prodigious stat requirements to wield it properly.

  Many a shield bash and lightning-bolt combo later, the three foes were slain. A fair bit of experience flowed into Calaf and Zilara’s Interface.

  “Okay. We know where we’re going.” Calaf looked up to the tallest tower, where Jelena’s crew had made a zipline escape during their last ill-fated visit to the fort. “Let’s take the scenic route.”

  Maybe a pitched battle would help ease Calaf’s troubled mind.