It was a standoff. The Dwarf who’d put up the request. The Adventurer who’d taken it. One burning with questions, the other who stubbornly refused to answer.

On the request, the Dwarf had asked for escort to a nearby gravesite in order to visit the burial of his son. A task that had been ignored for at least six months by other Adventurers and remained on the board as an Anchor, awaiting a brave soul to pluck it from the wood. There wasn’t anything odd about the request aside from its age, and the Guild receptionist hadn’t warned him of any foul play during their initial chat. So, Jake had no reason to believe anything weird about the request based on the details provided. On the surface this was supposed to be a simple escort mission to the gravesite and back, protecting the old Dwarf from any curious monsters or beasts, and maybe some banter to occupy the time. What he got was the complete opposite.

This crypt was infested with Draugr and his requestee was actively withholding information from the beginning. Information that now was leading Jake into a potentially dangerous fight in a room with several questionable combatants. Combatants aside, the Dwarf was also handicapping the Adventurer for some reason, and Jake found it difficult to play the fool any further with his life potentially at stake.

During the initial brawl, the Dwarf requested for Jake to not use magic to fight the Draugr and to combat them in strictly melee. With the scope of the threat known, following the instructions was fine. In such a fight, Jake could deal with that. Though annoying, Jake could overcome the troublesome monsters by restricting his magic use to supplementary effects. However, in the next room there were four coffins with magic markings on their surfaces. Without enough light or a clear view to read the markings, Jake couldn’t discern what they meant. For all he knew, those markings could be seals keeping exceptional warriors or threats at bay and the Draugr here could be the guards keeping them locked up.

Adding to that, many of the coffins beyond looked untampered with. From that, Jake could infer that there was a potential for more Draugr to come to life should a fight start or the doors open. It was impossible to tell without being able to clearly see inside the room and without knowing the workings of the crypt.

The Dwarf said he wanted to come here in order to pay respects to his son. Such was clearly a lie and Jake found himself the victim of the Dwarf’s dishonesty. What was worse and certainly not helping the Dwarf’s image was that he still refused to explain himself even now. They were already down here and Jake had all of the evidence to prove otherwise. Leaving Jake with two options; finish the mission and execute the Draugr lingering in the crypt out of the kindness of his heart, or leave the Dwarf and head back to the village to report the failure and the Dwarf’s misdirection.

On a typical trip, the choice was clear. Jake should pack up, call it a day, and let someone else deal with the Dwarf. That was the obvious decision to make and the easy call. However, the Adventurer in Jake was curious. The youthful child in Jake was committed to this task and the desire to fight whatever was inside those magic boxes tickled at his belly. Jake was itching for a good fight. A poor trait he’d picked up from all his scraps in the Ravine.

Not quite committed to leaving yet, Jake dug in for a final attempt.

“You’re not helping yourself,” Jake sat against the door, one arm draped over a raised knee. He glared at the Dwarf, monitoring both the stubborn fellow as well as the Draugr in the room behind him. Careful to not lose track of either of them. “If you would just explain what you’re doing, I might be willing to help you.”

“I cannot.” The Dwarf sighed and held his cane firmly. “Tha details aren’t fer ye to know.”

Jake spit off to his right and scowled at the Dwarf, an expression shrouded by the darkness of the crypt. “I’m fuckin’ here, aren’t I? Almost died once or twice, too. I think I have a right to know.”

The Dwarf did not answer, deferring the answer to the stale, dusty air surrounding them both. Jake rolled his eyes, annoyed and tired of the back and forth. Also with himself for deciding to play along. He’d tried a few different angles, asked a multitude of questions, but the details were still too few to gauge what was happening around him. The Dwarf was smarter than he looked, but Jake was also inexperienced. He didn’t know the right way to ask his questions. That was just as frustrating.

“I’ll blow them apart with magic if you don’t answer.” Jake flicked his index finger in front of him then ignited a fire at the tip. A daring threat that pushed the darkness away for a moment.

The Dwarf furrowed his brow as he peered down at Jake. The wrinkled and creased face was reflected in the dim, flickering light. “Resortin’ tah threats an’ tantrums now, hah?” He didn’t scold or scoff. Rather, the Dwarf spoke flatly and with little emotion. As if he’d expected such a response at some point. Jake hadn’t shown him much else so far, revealing his youth when dealing with troublesome people.

Jake extinguished the flame and shook his head. He let out a sigh and finally selected option number two. “I don’t have time for your games, Dwarf, and this is your problem. I tried asking and since you won’t budge, then this is as far as I take you.” With a push, Jake rose to his feet and took a few steps away from the door. “I don’t like leaving jobs unfinished but I’m not stupid enough to be someone’s lackey. I’m not desperate for money. I came to lend a hand to someone who needed it, not be some old beard’s killing hound.”

With a final, hopeful look, Jake peered down at the Dwarf. “Last chance.” He wanted desperately for the Dwarf to crack, to give in to his little plea. Practically a beg for this to not be a waste of time.

The Dwarf frowned, his beard twitching for a moment. Jake thought he might finally budge when given the ultimatum and hoped he might. However, the Dwarf’s eyes closed and he adorned the stoic, immovable expression of a man who’d made a decision and would not change it. Jake took that as his answer, and for a moment, Jake felt his stomach churn. Something in the Dwarf’s expression hurt him, as the Dwarf too looked to be in great pain.

However, it was his choice to make. Jake had to accept that. The Dwarf was stubborn as a mountain. “Right then.” Without hesitating, Jake strode away from the door and started in the opposite direction.

“You’ll regret leavin’ this place without finishin’ tha task, Human.” The Dwarf called out, not looking over his shoulder to the fading footfalls.

Jake didn’t answer him. He had wasted enough breath and time. The Dwarf had revealed his true colors befitting of his race and Jake wasn’t going to let himself get wrapped up in the cycle of endless unanswered questions. There were seven other requests he needed to complete. Wasting precious seconds with this foolery was going to burn into the limited time he had to complete the others. Especially those monster hunting requests. Those two required him to cover some distance, including the river, and he had no idea how much of a pain they would be. There was also the other escort request he still would need to finish, and a delivery request to boot. Four days to travel more distance than his actual travel day.

A Dwarf’s lunacy wasn’t something he could afford to spend a whole day on. Maybe if he wasn’t under a time constraint, he might find more questions to ask or attempt to pry a little deeper. Maybe he would even head back to the village and conduct a little investigation on the Dwarf, the crypt, the Draugr, and those four coffins. Afterwards, if he learned something new, he might change his mind, but Jake couldn’t gamble on slim possibilities. Not right now.

“Dammit.” Jake sucked his teeth in frustration as he emerged in the large circular room again. He stopped in the middle of it, his eyes drifting around the room in search of some kind of clue that might give away the reason for being here. Something, anything. A damned painting on the wall. A scrap of paper. Some message or a plate with information other than names for who was buried here.

He spun around slowly, scanning every sarcophagus, every crevice. Then, his eyes settled on the two routes leading into the crypt’s depths. The left route, where the Dwarf had led him. Then the right route, which Jake had still unexplored. Both likely led to additional burial space where more bodies laid to rest. After seeing the left route, that was what Jake assumed to be true.

That was when he felt the meddling itch again. The itch of curiosity, of a question burning to be answered.

Clenching his jaw. Curling his hands into fists. Jake stared at the right passage. Was it really curiosity? Or maybe was it a petty annoyance at being taken advantage of? Or maybe it was his desire to never leave a job unfinished. He wasn’t quite sure what drove him to grind his teeth and what made his legs yearn to walk into that path, but he felt a drive to take a look. A desperate yearning to explore that right passage. A tickling hope that his answer might be hiding somewhere down there.

The Draugr. The crypt. Those coffins. The Dwarf’s lack of information--shared information. The request for a typical escort, rather than an adventuring party. Various pieces of the puzzle set before him emerged in Jake’s mind, floating about in seemingly a unconnected way.

“...Was it money?” Jake threw a glance to the left passage. Could the Dwarf be too poor to afford a typical monster hunting request?

Maybe the Dwarf categorized this as an Escort mission simply because of the difference in required reward money. Due to the expected danger of a Subjugation mission, Adventurers would naturally want a higher pay cut upon completing a task. Even more so if the enemy was something dangerous, like Draugr, that would require multiple high-level party members to take down. The Guild would also require a higher fee by the nature of the mission.

Which led Jake to believe the decision was made on purpose. By asking for an Escort instead of issuing a killing ticket, the Dwarf would recruit a certain type of party and fit a very niche set of requirements he could personally set. Requirements he didn’t actually have to write down on the ticket. He could hire a specific set of Adventurers that would ensure his safety, listen to him properly down in the crypt, and not be so loose from the hip to potentially cause a mess once the fighting started. Adventurers with a keen eye for traps, danger, and who would push on into the depths of the crypt even if there were a few monsters in the way. All to get the Dwarf to the destination. That back room.

From that, Jake could tell that the focus was the escort details. Not the killing of the Draugr. The Dwarf knew of the Draugr and would obviously hire a skilled enough party to deal with them as a baseline. Newbies who couldn’t tangle would be dismissed, ruling out the rookies looking to make a buck. But why be picky when there were plenty of competent fighters out here in this harsh environment? Why put such emphasis on the party composition and not just look for a group that could kill the Draugr? From what Jake had seen in the Guild, there was no shortage of brawny Swordsman who looked good enough to do the job. Yet, the ticket remained on the board for six months. Why?

Jake took in a deep breath and forced himself to release the tension in his shoulders. He shut his eyes for a moment, took two more breaths to cool the unnecessary heat in his face, and settled the rowdy emotions in his mind. When he could think properly, he took a step back and collected the pieces again.

The Dwarf knew this place was infested with Draugr. He knew they wanted a melee fight and actively requested Jake to not use magic. That was on purpose, which meant the Dwarf likely evaluated him the first moment they’d met. If Jake was a magic caster, the Dwarf probably would’ve shooed him away. So, he was looking for a specific type of individual, or individuals, to come down here. Warriors capable of sword fighting.

Next, there was the skill requirement. The Dwarf wasn’t going to take just any sword fighter down here, hence why he’d taken care to evaluate Jake’s equipment. Deducing that Jake was a Sword Singer, he’d considered Jake likely the proper candidate for fighting on even footing with the enemy.

The initial fight, here in this circular room, had been the test. If Jake failed, the Dwarf would have probably headed back to the village and waited for another person. Hence why he was so unbothered by the six month waiting period. It was also why he’d remained outside of the room, and why he had been annoyed at Jake blowing the doors open. The plan was never to enter the room unless the Draugr were defeated. If Jake failed, the Dwarf would have shut the doors and sealed the Draugr in again to try again later. Jake probably wasn’t the first person down here, then. But, whoever had come before hadn’t succeeded, which then explained why the next set of doors were still rusted closed.

The lack of information was next. The Dwarf knew of this crypt, knew the layout, and also knew what was in the rooms themselves. He also knew the specific desire of the Draugr to fight in close combat. In the beginning, as they were entering, Jake remembered what the Dwarf said. This crypt was made by Humans, but the Dwarves helped.

Jake blinked and his brow knit together in a fit of confused realization. “Am I some kind of sacrifice?” There was another sarcophagus in that left chamber, still open and unsealed. Were those seals some kind of Necromancy?

No, that was simply wild conjecture. The Dwarf didn’t have enough mana to conduct such a ritual and there weren’t any traces of lingering mana in the area to support a spell like that. No sigils or etched Words of Power in the floor to denote necromancy had been scribbled around, so there was clearly another reason. Which, once again, brought Jake back to the Dwarf. While he was no necromancer, he clearly had a form of attachment here. Otherwise why would he ask Jake to put the Draugr to rest with just swords? If execution was important, then blowing them apart with magic wouldn’t have been a concern.

… As Jake’s eyes drifted over the walls again, taking in the art drawn on the walls, a gear settled into place in Jake’s mind. A missing piece came to the front. This wasn’t a normal chamber for the dead. The answer was literally surrounding him. The very existence of this place should have been the clue.

“I think I understand now.” Jake muttered, looking down at the bodies of the Draugr scattered around the room. This place was old. Dust, dirt, cobwebs, rust. Reflections that this crypt hadn’t been disturbed in years. The trail leading here was unmended, forgotten, likely left to decay. Which meant the occupants of this crypt were similarly forgotten and left to rot, left alone to wander for eternity.

However, there had been great care taken to place these coffins here. The architecture would have been very ornate and clean in its early days, with plenty of gifts strewn about as evidence of the fallen not being forgotten. The very images on the walls and the battles shown were those very memories, written into eternity here.

For the crypt to have become so decrepit, maybe the Dwarf was the last to know of this place. The last to know of who lay here. As such, maybe he found it his responsibility to put his friends to rest. Because that’s who these Draugr were. These were the men in those stories.

A mage could easily do that. Using distance and overpowering spells, the mage could kill the warriors and put them to bed once and for all, extinguishing their mana sources and ending the problem without much effort. It may damage their corpses but they’d certainly be returned to their sleep. However, a swordsman would give these warriors one last bout. One last stand to show their might and, once defeated, would allow them to rest properly. A swordsman would share sympathy with the Dwarf and the Draugr. A swordsman would be fair, cordial, and give these deadmen a chance to earn their eternity. Maybe they’d been killed unfairly, hence why they continued to plague the living and refused to stay buried.

But why hide it? Why conceal the true meaning behind coming here? Would that not be a worthy reason to hire someone? What Adventurer would turn down such an opportunity to be involved in this sort of ordeal? Coming into an old crypt with an old man, fighting the old man’s fallen friends and giving them one last glorious round of respectable conflict…

“If Chul or Darius came back, causing problems in the Ravine, would I want just anyone fighting them?” Jake thought, his eyes scanning across the bodies again. “Or would I want someone I deemed respectable, a worthy opponent, to do it?” He walked over to the Draugr he’d pinned and killed against the wall. The massive axehead was still jutting out of its chest and the dead man now sat in a pathetic state.

Jake frowned and stared into the empty, hollow eye sockets of the Draugr’s skull, imagining that ancient face to belong to one of the Warriors he’d fought beside in the Ravine. That very thought made his skin crawl.

“No… No, I wouldn’t.” He mumbled. Jake reached out and grabbed both the broken handle and the spine of the axehead. Clutching it to ensure a firm grip, Jake yanked the sharp edge out of the Draugr’s ribcage. The fragile bones cracked and snapped, a few breaking because of how rotted they’d become. The body slumped over to the side as Jake relieved it of its burden.

There was a faint tapping that echoed into the room after. The rhythmic sound of a cane hitting stone. Jake tossed the axehead to the side and looked over his shoulder, watching the Dwarf emerge from the passage. The Dwarf took a few steps into the room and made eye contact with the lingering Sword Singer. He didn’t ask, but Jake could see the question on his face.

“Tha hell ya doin’ ‘ere still?”

Jake looked away from the Dwarf and back at the Draugr. “What’s his name?” Jake asked, careful not to be too loud. There were many dead still sleeping, not wishing to be disturbed.

The Dwarf walked closer until he was a few feet away. Along with his back, his eyes must be failing him, too. “Richard Donahue. A nobleman, from the port city of Winchester.” He answered with a slight gruff to his tone. “Cocky fool. Always had a joke to say.”

Jake narrowed his eyes for a moment, then scanned the plates and labels around the room. “Where’d he come from?” Jake said, kneeling down.

The Dwarf huffed. “Reckon I just said it, boy.”

The body was light even with the armor it wore. Jake lifted the fallen warrior into his arms and stood up, careful not to shake anything loose to worsen the corpse’s condition. Without mana holding the body together any more, the bones were deteriorating rather quickly. Jake turned to face the Dwarf and once more scanned the room, squinting as he tried to read the name plates. “No, you dolt. Which box did he come out of?”

The Dwarf’s bushy brow lifted, his eyes widening as he processed that question. He took in the sight of Jake standing there, cradling the fallen warrior, looking around the room to find the rightful place to return the man. “Ah…” The Dwarf’s shoulders slackened as his jaw opened slightly, parting as he admired the human in front of him. Yet, he did not admit the emotions he felt. Rather, the Dwarf swallowed them away and pointed his cane, directing Jake to the proper coffin across the room.

With the Dwarf’s assistance, Jake returned the bodies one by one to their beds. He returned them to the sarcophaguses they’d crawled out of and used a mix of magic and raw strength to close the lids. To ensure they wouldn’t be disturbed again, he used some rock magic to seal them in. He did the same for all of the other coffins as well, opened and unopened.

The Dwarf stood in the center of the room, providing little details about each of the Warriors, reminiscing a little as Jake’s hands closed them away. These men weren’t just corpses or occupants of boxes with dusted nameplates. They each had their own stories and tales of life. Though long ended and largely forgotten. This crypt was proof that they existed. This was their Hall of Heroes.

“Somethin’ change yer mind?” After sealing the final coffin, the Dwarf asked his question.

Jake stared at the stone box, his fingers running over the coarse, gritty lid. His finger scraped over it, his skin dragging along the harsh surface of aged stone. “I didn’t get the chance to bury my friends,” he said with a low tone. He paused for a moment, their faces and final moments replaying in his mind. His right hand ached, the scar burning a little as Chul’s final words crossed his mind. “Guess I just wanted to help you bury yours.”

The Dwarf let out a brief hum and nodded lightly. “Sorry to hear, boy.”

“It’s… fine.” Jake sighed and turned away, forcing himself back into the present. “I can’t change it now and I killed enough Maedra to make up for it.” He tapped the coffin with the bottom of his fist, then walked over to the mouth of the left passage. “Who are the four in the back of the room?” He stopped at the entrance of the passage, looking towards the Dwarf for at least that answer.

The Dwarf, recognizing that the Human was going back, smirked and started after him. Once more, the two walked down the hall towards the inner chamber. “My party. An Elf. Two Humans, and a Demon. I lost ‘em fightin’ Crux’s army a long time ago. Them, and these men, died that day. I was unlucky enough to survive.”

“A party of heroes, then?” Jake’s eyebrow peaked as he looked down at the Dwarf.

The Dwarf cackled. “Hah! Anythin’ but! Buncha fools, this lot. Thugs and brigan’s with a flag. Tha's all we were. No homes tah go back tah. No wives to warm our beds or kids to carry ours names. Jus’ boys chasin’ tail, good drink, and good food. Fightin’ fer coin along tha way.”

“That's all we were. Fools to the very last.” His voice faded as his eyes grew distant, but that somber smile remained on his face. He lowered his gaze a bit, and the tapping of his cane softened as he walked a little more quietly. Jake did the same, silencing the clicking of his boots.

“Fools who nevah quite knew what it meant to live, always lookin’ fer a field to die in. Actin’ like the next fight would be our last, and hopin’ it would be. No dreams or expectations of settlin’ down. No worries on our minds. Children. Ev’ryone of ‘em. No amount of whacks tah their skulls could put some sense in ‘em.” They stopped in front of the doors and the Dwarf let out a heavy, exhausted sigh.

After a long, heavy pause. “An’ I would give anythin’ to have died with ‘em.”

“But you didn’t.” Jake said, stepping up to the door.

“No, I di’n’t.” The Dwarf gripped his cane with both hands, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed the wood.

Jake gripped the handle, his forearm flexing as he readied to open it. “Someone’s gotta watch over them, don’t you think? Otherwise, who else would be dumb enough to come down here when they started causing trouble again?”

Without looking back to see the Dwarf’s expression, Jake yanked open the door and exposed himself to the massive hall inside. He drew his elven blade first, the shimmering light blue mithril tasting the stale air of the space, and he boldly entered the hall. His first, heavy boot echoed through the largely barren space like a daring challenge.

At the noise of both the door and the bold step, every Draugr’s eyes twisted in his direction. His second blade being drawn, his Spell Blade, rang out as the metal edge dragged along the metal ring of the sheath. Acknowledging the arrival of the threat, the Draugr readied their own rusted steel to match.

“Aye. That is true…” The Dwarf whispered, watching as the Adventurer strode away from him.

The room was a dining hall. Two long, massive stone tables stretched down the middle with dozens of chairs along each side of them. The walls were wide, the ceiling tall. A row of pillars on each edge of the room both held up the massive ceiling and also provided a natural divider, separating the sarcophaguses from the eating area. Utensils, dishes, and cups were placed out on the table. A set for every seat. A scene displaying a final meal. On the far side of the room, where those four standing coffins were, a high table was set with a similar view. Five seats for the five leaders. One set of dishware was missing on the left end of the table. A set that had yet to be laid out. The very seat itself was modified to accommodate an individual with a far more stout figure.

Twirling his blades around his fingers, Jake scanned the room and then set to his work. He moved swiftly, sending mana to his limbs, his weapons, and his feet. Enchantments glistened on his Spell Blade and his muscles thumped as he enhanced them with Light magic. In order to keep things from getting messy, Jake moved hastily. He engaged the Draugr one at a time, dispatching them before they could group up and make any formations that could cause problems.

Unlike in the previous chamber, these men only carried swords and shields. No massive axes to speak of. Whether that was due to their personal choices or just what they were buried with, Jake didn't know, but it made his life easy. Add in the predictable nature of the Draugrs now that Jake had his battle experience, Jake found it easy to break through them. Blocking and parrying the swords away, or coaxing the warriors to move their shields aside made exposing the targeted mana sources relatively simple.

The eight Draugr fell one by one. Jake parried and blocked, locked then twisted, swung then followed through. Tearing through their numbers in rapid succession, he cleared the room and ended the brief engagement with a firm swipe of the last Draugr’s feet, knocking the warrior onto his back. Before the Draugr could recover, Jake stomped down on its shoulder to pin it, then shoved his blade through the warrior’s mana source. The undead flopped onto the floor, its weapon and shield rattling on the floor as the arms lost their strength.

When the color in the Draugr’s eye sockets faded, Jake yanked his blade from the Draugr’s ribcage. His eyes immediately scanned the room for additional threats.

Seeing none, he wiped his blades off instinctively on his leg then sheathed them. The Dwarf entered the room once it was safe and began to make his way down the middle aisle. Jake, standing off to the right of the room, followed alongside him.

“Odd to see the others awake but not those four.” Jake said aloud, walking around the table to the Dwarf’s side. “Any idea why?”

“They died happy.” The Dwarf stood at the bottom of the three steps leading to the higher table and the fancier coffins. He also stood at the center of the table. He tapped his cane down in front of him as he leaned onto the tool. “An’ we put some runes on their boxes to keep ‘em quiet. If not, they could cause some real trouble.”

Now that he was close enough, Jake could see what the Dwarf was talking about. Jake’s guess turned out to be correct. The runes he barely made out from the door were linked together, creating a set of seals on the sarcophaguses. Unless someone maliciously toyed with them, the corpses inside would remain undisturbed. The occupants would be forced to remain in their eternal sleep.

“Is that what you really wanted to check?” Jake asked, glancing over at the Dwarf.

If the task had been to put all of the Draugr back to rest, then they would have gone down the right passage first. Clear out the crypt of all other combatants and leave these four for last. Especially if they were the more troublesome of the bunch. However, the Dwarf prioritized getting to them first. If that were the case, then it could be said that the Dwarf really did want to see someone down here, just not his fake son. From what had been shared before, he didn’t have one of those.

“Mm.” The Dwarf affirmed with a subtle nod. A hand rose to stroke his beard. “I heard a while ago that some kiddos had come down here and were spooked by somethin’. So I came to look myself and found the Draugr.” The Dwarf turned and looked out into the room, his eyes picking out the various corpses now scattered about. “Put up a request fer some help and I’ve been lookin’ for it ev’r since.”

Jake squinted, placed his hands on his hips, and leaned forward so he could read the runes better. The seals were quite intricate. If he could, Jake wanted to study them. “I doubt it’s taken six months for someone to take up your request, old man. What’s with that?”

The Dwarf chuckled and climbed the three steps, walking over to the coffins and brushing his hand over each of them as he walked passed. “Been lookin’ fer a skilled swordsman. Can’t brin’ any ol’ hack down here. Might end up with a few extra dead than it’s worth, and I’d have to pay more in that case. So I turned a few away. Had a few possible takers but they all got scared when they saw the Draugr. One wasn’t too bad, but he wasn’t skilled enough on his own.”

The Dwarf stopped in front of the last coffin, his hand curling into a fist before he punched it softly. “An’ I wasn’t gon’ take no mage. This one was enough trouble alive.” The Dwarf rumbled before slowly descending the steps.

So, Jake was correct in his deductions then. The Dwarf wanted a frontline warrior to take his quest and needed someone capable, or a few capable people, to actually clear the crypt with just swords alone. Jake, though able to use magic, was a Sword Singer. Someone who could mix magic with sword and fight on even ground with the Draugr. Even by himself. It sounded like there was another potential savior of the day, but that Adventurer had fallen short. So close.

“Are there any Draugr down the other passage?” Jake asked, wanting to know if there was more work to be done or not.

The Dwarf shrugged. “We will have to check. If those four are asleep, then I don’t think there will be much more to do.”

Nodding, Jake relaxed and then set to helping put the dead back to their respective coffins. “Any idea why they came back to life?” As they worked, and with the truth being revealed, Jake thought he might try to pry for some regular information. Maybe if he knew the answer, he might be able to keep it from happening again.

“Tha wonders of magic are beyond me, boy,” the Dwarf laughed. “Like I said, some of ‘em didn’t die happy. Maybe their souls lingered for too lon’ and somethin’ woke ‘em up, like them kids bein’ nosy. Not quite sure.”

Hm, that could certainly be the case. After checking again, Jake couldn’t feel any traces of residual magic but they were underground, and pretty deep. The sarcophaguses were sealed pretty well, slowing the decay of the corpses. Over time, the bodies might have absorbed mana seeping up from the depth of the rock and their dormant mana sources collected enough to act as triggers for reanimation. Add in the actual activation, such as a bunch of nosy brats poking around and being noisy, a sleeping corpse or two might’ve found that the perfect time to wake up. Then once one was awake, making a bunch of noise breaking out of its tomb, the others woke up as well. Seeing that, screaming kids running away would only wake up more of them. A rolling effect.

Jake would have to do some research on the process. If crypts like this were a regular thing across the Overworld, then this might not be his last time coming across Draugr. Forming a way to handle them, like some kind of spell to release their souls or disperse their mana, would make his life significantly easier. Until he developed something like that he would have to stick to the standard method of stabbing and blowing them up. Preferably the second, as magic was always easier than a sword fight, but he would make that determination based on who he was fighting.

While Jake wasn’t a believer in the reincarnation of the dead in this sort of way, he wouldn’t put it past the Gods to be nosy and influence the rebirth of a warrior or something weird. Maybe the Dwarf was right. The Draugr really were warriors seeking a proper death. Or maybe it was just magic being absurd as usual. From what Jake had learned thus far, if he couldn’t explain it through logical means then that meant some foul magic nonsense was at play.

Either way, such nonsense would have to be researched and solved later. They had one more room to check. A room that, coincidentally, also had Draugr in it. What a surprise. Jake blew open the doors with wind magic, causing every Draugr in the room to look in his direction. The Dwarf also looked up at him. Jake returned the gaze and shrugged.

“What?” He asked, drawing his swords.

“Ain’t got no courtesy fer tha dead, do ya?” The Dwarf grumbled, rolling his eyes as Jake walked away.

“Only enough to not use Fire Ball.” Jake retorted before lunging towards the first Draugr.

The room was similar to the first room. Circular in shape with the tombs slotted in the walls. In the center, however, more sarcophaguses were lined up in four columns of eight, and a large majority of them were opened with their occupants now walking again. In total, twenty Draugr filled the room. With no need to be wary of knocking over any glasses or shattering plates, Jake used his magic to dance around the room and rapidly dismantle the walking dead.

A few had their heavy axes and some even had large kite shields, rather than the smaller circular ones. They linked together, forcing Jake to get creative with his tactics of breaking through. However, the open space and Jake’s maneuverability made getting around them a matter of jumping or vaulting around them. Most were armored with chest plates and almost every Draugr had chainmail, forcing Jake to put some extra effort into his stabs. However, the link and metal was rusty and aged. A few stabs caused them to break, chip, or crumble.

After the last Draugr was dealt with, Jake immediately shifted to putting the Draugr back to their resting places. It took a bit of time, especially because of how many there were, but the Dwarf’s ability to deduce who was who certainly helped. He said it was because of the armor and swords they carried, but Jake thought it was more just guessing. The corpses were heavily deteriorated and with so little meat left on them, facial features were impossible to make out unless the Draugr had a helmet on. Most had skulls for heads. Jake didn’t say anything, though, letting the Dwarf have his moment.

In this room, some of the sarcophaguses were damaged, so Jake used Rock magic to fix the broken stone. He repaired cracks, chips. One lid was even in half, which required some extra care when putting it back. They sealed each of them shut, and then Jake left the Dwarf some extra time alone within the chamber. The Dwarf’s cane tapped softly, the Dwarf’s expression wilted and tired as he walked past each of the coffins. To give the old warrior time to reminisce in peace, Jake excused himself to the exit of the crypt entirely.

A place like this was one he considered a blessing, and he was very jealous of its occupants. These men were very much loved and those who built this tomb did so to forever remember them and their lives. However small, these men had left a mark on history in some capacity. The existence of this place and the amount of care put into its creation was enough evidence of that. Though the Dwarf was the last to remember them, the last to care for this place and truly weigh its meaning, that alone was enough. Jake only wished he could do more.

Standing outside, staring at the entrance and observing the area around the crypt, he felt a bit remorseful. Jake could not provide the same sort of memorial for those who’d fallen in Ewana. He could not bury his dead and could not grant them a site where others might remember them. There was no place where he could etch their names other than in his heart. There was no fanfare of their deaths, no funeral to be had. No songs to be sung or stories to be told.

Ewana was a tragedy, one not unique to the Ravine. How many other villages like it had fallen in that place? Buried beneath the claws and teeth of the Maedra? He’d considered it before, thought of the sheer scale of deaths within that hellish place, all to come to the simple conclusion that there was no need to put a number to it all.

There was no need to. For the dead did not care, nor did the living. The Ravine moved on. After every collapse of one village, the Oryx simply made another elsewhere. A never ending, nameless cycle of bloody war out of sight of the sun. How many of those wars were being fought this very second? How many other places, both above and below the surface, were full of bodies lost and forgotten, or abandoned?

A world plagued with danger, where the innocent earned their tomorrows. How exhausting this word was.

The tapping of the cane came a short time later, and the Dwarf emerged from the maw of the crypt. His eyes were still heavy and his lips were drawn tight together. He did not meet Jake’s eyes as he stepped out to the stairs. But, he did let out a heavy sigh. His very shoulders slumped and his head tilted down. Weary, old, and full of wonder. Wonder of when it would finally be his turn to feast at that table.

“Finished?” Jake asked, his tone light and considerate. He would not rush this man, for he understood plenty of the meaning to this place.

Taking in a deep breath, the Dwarf’s shoulders rolled back and his back straightened. A sign of youth. A sign that he was willing to take just one more step. “Fer now,” he answered. With a huff, he stepped down from the crypt and the pair began their return to the village.

It was a quiet walk back. The sun had passed its zenith in the sky, the rays of its light slowly beginning to angle poorly along the landscape. Night would come in a few hours and with it, a faint chill as the warm breeze lost its healing touch. After spending more time in the crypt than he’d expected, Jake acknowledged the loss of a second escort quest for the day. He would need to prioritize them tomorrow. The Dwarf was also walking a bit slower now, showing both his age and that he was tired from the long distance excursion.

When the village came into view, the Dwarf sighed. “Sword SIng’r.”

“What is it, Dwarf?” Jake answered.

“Where ya headed?” He asked, looking up at him.

Jake shrugged. “North. I have business with the Elves there.”

The Dwarf nodded. “I see. Then ya will pass tha Land of Scorched Earth, and the Kingdom of Fire. Dwarven lands.”

Jake recalled seeing such a place on the world map in the Library, yet he had not planned to pass through it. Rather, he hoped to travel by boat for the majority of his journey northward. So long as he could hop from port to port, this long journey of his would take much less time than by foot. Then again, the ocean was less forgiving than the ground, and far more boring. Maybe traveling by foot wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Something there I should see?” If Jake planned his route, he would pass by the heart of that Dwarf controlled territory. He wouldn’t need to enter it and could certainly walk around the outskirts of it, depending on his supplies and other villages in the area, but a little adjusting could send him passing right into it. If he wanted the scenic route, that might just be a necessary choice.

“Not somethin’, my boy. Someone.” The Dwarf stroked his beard as they approached the village gate. Both provided their forms of identification, then continued through. “Remember, I mentioned tha laddie, Hulgrok? His family is from tha city of Boldar. I haven’t sent ‘em a message of what happen’d to ‘em but if yer goin’ that way, I think ye might be the perfect courier fer tha job.”

Exhaling, Jake let out a heavy, tired sigh. His hand naturally found the pommel of his Spell Blade. His eyes drifted towards the sky, staring towards the northern horizon. For a moment, he felt the weight on his shoulders grow just a little bit heavier.

Something the seasoned eyes of the Dwarf did not miss. “Somethin’ on yer mind, boy?”

Jake slowed their walk to a stop and he looked down to meet the Dwarf’s gaze. “Yea, something I think you might understand just as well.”

It took a few quiet breaths, then the Dwarf let out a rumble. “I see.” He mumbled, nodding. “It’s a heavy weight, boy, being tha only one left.” He picked up his cane and continued to walk, its tapping guiding Jake forward. “But jus’ as much as it is our duty tah keep livin’, it’s our duty to nev’r forget, to tell tha stories, to speak their names. But ye know this already, don’t ya?”

“I do.” Jake grimaced and squeezed the hilt of the forged weapon.

“Mm. Then ye know it’s also yer responsibility to tell ‘em.” The Dwarf sighed. “Howev’r difficult it may be. Messengers of tha Dead.”

Jake couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as he released the sword. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say it.”

Messengers of the Dead. Carriers of the Final Words. Individuals who have survived as the last of their allies, for better or for worse. Sometimes planned, sometimes by accident. Sometimes by blessing, sometimes by curse. Jake could feel that burden weigh on him and the more he looked around himself and interacted with others who led similar lives, the more he realized he wasn’t alone.

Men like this Dwarf and Jake were numerous, especially within the Adventuring world. Parties could be wiped out at any moment by the simplest, or most foolish, of mistakes. A minor misstep or slip of the mind and all of a sudden the party may find itself in a corner, facing a hundred goblins with no way out. Hoping someone might come save them in their final hour. More often than not, the encounters end in blood and shrill screams of death as the lives of the surface races are defiled and extinguished by those of the dark.

Those that choose to gamble do so with an understanding that luck may not always be on their side. Knowing such, Adventurers live their days as if it may be their last. Like roaring flames atop crumbling torches. They know their days are numbered and their luck may at some point run dry. The time when their flame burns out is an inevitability and no one, not even the Gods, know when that time may come.

But, when it does--when it is time to gamble it all and put every coin before the mistress of Fate, even the most seasoned warriors know that She does not pick favorites. She is fair. She is neutral. And most of all--

--her dice do not roll twice.

The pair returned to the horse stables, pacing around the fence line to the entrance gate. The Dwarf popped it open and Jake followed behind him. The horses were still out, grazing in the field while the fieldhands worked to spread food, tend to the grass, and tend to some of the older horses. A blacksmith hammered in his small forge, repairing tools and forging new horseshoes. A few new riders were still taking lessons and children were eating lunch near the home. A peaceful scene, one that Jake was jealous of.

“Wait here.” Upon reaching the house, the Dwarf motioned for Jake to wait and then disappeared in the building. The man waited patiently, observing the grounds and eyeing the various small scenes happening around him. It was peaceful here, quiet. But, he wondered what it had taken to get here. He could hardly fathom the cost in blood that had to be paid for this village. Even more than that, it reminded him of Ewana. Surrounded by danger. A looming potential for evil to come spilling over those wooden walls at any time. Yet those living here still found ways to smile, laugh, and enjoy a warm meal out in the open. Baffling. Truly baffling.

The tapping of a cane caused Jake to turn and the Dwarf whacked the door open with the wooden stick. He grumbled as he lumbered through the threshold with two items in his hand. First was a recognizable coin pouch. More like a leather sack than an actual pouch. The Dwarf tossed that at Jake’s face first. Jake caught it with ease and then tied it to his belt without checking its contents. The second item was a piece of paper. A letter, specifically. A sealed envelope with a yellow wax seal stamped on the back to keep it closed.

“‘ere.” The Dwarf passed the letter to Jake, practically forcing the man to take it. “Take it north. Tha seal should help with entry to tha city. Bring it to ‘em.”

Jake turned the letter over to look at the seal. The image of a hammer striking an anvil with a pair of blacksmithing tongs hovering over top was burned into the wax. When Jake looked at the face of the letter, the scribbling was in a language he couldn’t read. Dwarven, most likely. Shit, he hadn’t learned that yet. “Who?”

The Dwarf scoffed. “Ya know who, ya brat. Hulgrok’s family. His sist’r. Take it to ‘er, and show ‘er that sword of yers. Ain’t gotta gift it, but it’ll make ‘er happy.” He paused, huffing and stroking his beard. “Probably.”

Jake blinked. “Probably?” He echoed, narrowing his eyes on the short man.

The Dwarf didn’t meet his eyes. “She might hit ya, but uh… Tha’s on you, boy.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed further as he considered having to deal with that mess, but he slid the letter into a pocket regardless. “Fine. I’ll make sure to mention you, too.”

“Bah!” The Dwarf hollered and turned away. “Ya ain’t gotta do any such thin’, boy.” He started for the door, pausing before he stepped through the threshold. “That lett’r will say enough of mah side.”

Jake settled on his heels and raised his chin. “And who is it from?”

The Dwarf paused, then took in a great breath.

“Goldheart. Eldrun Goldheart.” Without another word, the Dwarf walked into the home and slammed the door shut behind him. It seemed he had grown tired or could not bear to discuss the topic any longer. Jake didn’t blame him. He was finding it difficult as well.

The man took one last look out over the grounds, scanning from left to right, then he peered up towards the sun. He performed the mental math of estimated daylight remaining, then pressed his lips firmly together. He lowered his gaze, then stepped away from the house. His feet carried him across the grounds, to the fence, then to the gate. Then, through it and back into the heart of the village.

“A messenger of death, huh?” He murmured to himself, his fingers brushing over the hilt of his Spell Blade.

“When will it be my turn?” He thought, his eyes looking ahead but not truly seeing as he considered those words heavily. And not just when, but where? Would it be in some hole, some cave? At the hands of a Maedra, Goblins, or some other unknown monsters? Would he die gloriously, bested by a spell or a stronger sword? Would he die alone, or with allies by his side? Or, would it just be misfortune? A misstep that causes him to fall into a trap? A triggered spell that blows him apart, or causes a mana explosion? Maybe the Gods snatch his life away somehow, snuffing out his flame of life with a mere pinch of their fingers.

They were not kind thoughts and he knew he shouldn't be having them, but how could he be faulted for having such worries? After all, he was surrounded by it. Adventurers came and went like the wind. Appearing one day, or for months at a time, seasons or years, all for them to never return one day. A recognizable face, a regular, who simply finds themselves faced with a trial that they are not meant to overcome. A trial as simple as Goblins, or as random as a tunnel collapsing. Who knows, except for Lady Fate.

“Ah…” Jake sighed, his shoulders slouching as he reached into his bag to retrieve the stack of papers within. He placed the Dwarf’s request at the bottom of the stack and set his eyes on the next one he planned to complete. An item retrieval mission, posted by a young man who lost his prized family sword after fleeing from monsters.

“...dammit.” He grumbled, tucking the papers away before opening his stride. His destination? The next risky endeavor. Onward, to adventure.