Mara loved the gift. She immediately applied it to her leather armor and turned it into an apron. With a twirl and a giggle, she jumped into his arms. “I love it.”

  “I’m glad. I hope this will help you stay protected.”

  “Now I need Annabelle to make me a helmet.”

  “Oh no, I forgot about Annabelle when I made the linings. I am gonna need to go spend another half hour in your workshop.”

  “Excellent, I was heading there anyway. You can walk me there,” Mara said, scooping his arm as she walked out the door.

  Arm in arm, they walked to the workshop. Morgan made two more linings and wrapped them in fabric, asking Mara to tie a bow on them. It was time to meet up with Frank. Morgan kissed Mara goodbye, leaving the packages for Katherine and Annabelle with her, and left with a smile on his face and a small package under his arm.

  As he left the workshop, he changed his armor into the Warden’s uniform. Frank was at the entrance to the sector with a dozen warriors. He waved as Morgan walked up. Then stepped away from the group and shook Morgan’s hand. His misshapen hand was a grim reminder of something that happened less than three weeks ago, but the memory already felt old and worn.

  “Warden. Welcome to the group. We are just waiting for one more person.”

  “Good morning,” Morgan said with a quick wave to the group. They straightened as he walked up, then started whispering.

  “Frank. I have something for you,” Morgan said, handing the small wrapped package to Frank.

  He unwrapped the linings and then held one up, asking, “how does it work?”

  “Just hold it to your armor.”

  Frank pressed the lining to his chest, then gasped as the lining was absorbed. Frank grinned as the armor started shifting to a few unique designs. Quietly he said, “it’s awesome, lad. Thank you.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  Frank unhooked the helmet with the large red plume on it from his belt. “Think I will leave this one the way it is. I like it. I will save the other one for later.”

  “They are yours. You can use them for whatever you want,” Morgan said, clapping him on the back.

  A red-faced boy ran up. Ill-fitting armor clanged as he joined the group. He was young.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he panted, bending over and taking in giant gulps of air.

  “That’s everyone,” Frank said loudly to the group. “We can start the introductions. This is Warden,” Frank waved a hand at Morgan. “Warden, this is the newest dungeon delver group. We have almost the max of fifteen people.”

  He then introduced the three teams. Frank led one, with a large, thick-armed boy and a small wisp of a girl leading the other two groups. “It isn’t a requirement,” Frank mentioned to Morgan. “But I have selected three groups with the tank role as the leader. Mentoring and all that.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Makes sense. They should learn from the best.”

  “Okay, now you’re laying it on too thick.”

  Morgan just shook his head as Frank introduced the rest of his group. The red-faced boy was last, one of his melee fighters. “Then Karla has the second group. You will be with her as a melee.”

  The thin girl stepped forward. “Warden, Sir, We are thrilled to have you with us. I, as mister Henderson said, am the Tank. We have you as a melee, alongside Erik, who uses a hammer.” As she said his name, an older man with a thick war hammer stepped forward. He had heavy plate armor with rose designs on it. “Then we have a healer support, Ainsley, and an electric mage, Abigail,” Two younger women stepped forward together. They were sisters, or closely related. They had very similar dark hair and features. Morgan nodded at each before turning to the last tank. A man with arms to rival Frank’s thick biceps.

  He held a giant, spiked and gnarled club and wore leather armor that didn’t look very protective. He spoke in a thick, broken Russian or eastern European accent as he said, “I. Am. Bear.” Then he pointed to the other three of his four-man team and said just their names. Each one gave Morgan the same small nod and didn’t speak. They all looked tough and very capable.

  “They are from a traveling circus. Got stranded here. Bear is the only one who usually speaks,” Frank told him. “But they have all been skilled fighters so far.” Hearing this, Bear thumped his chest. “Bear fight good. We fight good.”

  They arrived at the dungeon entrance with only one small skirmish in the city. A small group of goblins that Bear’s archer and mage killed in three seconds. They didn’t get a rift clearing bonus, but they didn’t waste time trying to hunt down any stragglers.

  As they walked along, the smooth concrete of a building wall gave way to moss-covered brick with a rounded opening. The entrance was five feet wide and eight feet tall. The steps went down into the darkness. Frank led the way, his red plume sticking up as his team followed closely behind him. Kayla and Erik were next. As Morgan crossed the threshold of the stairs, a notification appeared.

  ::Caution: You are entering a Dungeon- Current population 8/15::

  Ainsley was directly behind Morgan, and as she crossed, he got a notification.

  ::Current population 9/15::

  It continued to count until they were all inside. They could only have fifteen people in the dungeon. That was interesting. Following close behind Frank, the tanks had small, faintly glowing orbs floating above their heads thanks to one of the circus group. Morgan’s skin crawled as they wound deeper and deeper into the dungeon. He noticed thick, sticky webbing stuck to the walls, and his heart started thudding in his chest.

  “Shit,” he whispered, voice cracking and louder than he had planned. “Are they spiders?”

  “No lad. Just big, hairy dogs with some extra legs.”

  “I’m one thousand percent not okay with spiders either,” Ainsley said at his elbow.

  Abigail held up her hand, arcs of lightning drifting between her fingers. “Let me get hold of one of them.” They stepped over a discarded or dismembered spider leg on the ground. It was as thick as Morgan’s arm and twice as long. “Or maybe not,” she finished, dropping her hand in horror.

  The path transitioned from thick, orderly bricks into a rough, packed dirt wall. As the wall transitioned, they also spread apart until they were entering an enormous cavern. Spindly columns of stone stretched from floor to ceiling, creating stark, vibrant shadows as the tanks walked through them. Frank stopped calling out for Warden to come forward.

  Standing over a desiccated body, Frank pointed around the corner. Just on the other side of the stalagmite, there was a battlefield. Scattered around the tight space between pillars were bits of spider legs and chunks of armor. Even more ominous, random weapons lay scattered among the turmoil as well.

  “We aren’t the first group to enter this dungeon,” Frank whispered.

  “This might just be part of the dungeon,” one of his team said.

  Frank picked up a piece of armor. It was stamped with the symbol of a crane. “This is the mark of the Citadel.”

  A rustling noise from deeper in the cave drew everyone’s attention.

  “Steady, and make ready,” Frank commanded, drawing his sword. A swarm of spiders, each the size of a medium dog, slowly materialized from the darkness. They crept forward, spindly legs moving slowly, two front legs raised in the air.

  “That’s not so bad,” said Abigail.

  “Shit,” said Morgan, “The huge leg we saw wouldn’t even fit on one of them.”

  There was a deeper rustle from the ceiling as a spider the size of a horse crawled down a stalagmite and started attaching web to its point.