Lana bounced on her feet as she turned to Kurda. "What was that about? You must know something."

  "Later."

  "But did you see how he just-"

  "Later," Kurda repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

  "We need to find a spot to set up before dark."

  He led them away from the commotion, Satan padding alongside her. The cat's fur had settled, though her tail still twitched with agitation.

  "So," Lana sidled up next to Elara, "what do you think about all that? Pretty intense, eh?"

  Elara shrugged, her mind still replaying what Darius had said. "I guess."

  "Come on, you must have some thoughts. I mean, did you see how he threw those guards around like they were nothing?"

  "Mhm." Elara stepped over a fallen branch, keeping her eyes on the path ahead.

  "And House Valemont—they’re supposed to be this big deal, but that guy just called them out in front of everyone!" Lana’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I bet there’s more to this story."

  She paused, then let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "Still, glad it didn’t escalate. No skills used, no blood spilled—at least they were still civilized about it." She shot Elara a sideways glance. "For now, anyway."

  Elara finally glanced at her, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "You sound almost disappointed."

  "What? No!" Lana held up her hands. "Just saying—if you’re gonna pick a fight with nobles, better to do it with words than fireballs."

  Elara made a noncommittal sound, grateful when Kurda stopped at a clearing near the edge of the camp.

  Kurda pulled something from his pocket, her view blocked by his broad frame. Moments later, canvas segments materialized on the ground along with wooden poles and rope.

  "Grab that end," Lana directed, pointing to a corner of heavy fabric.

  Elara hefted the material while Kurda's arms worked, each pair performing a different task, driving stakes, threading poles, and securing guy lines. Within minutes, a massive tent took shape before her eyes.

  The structure rose high enough that even Kurda could stand comfortably inside. Multiple chambers branched off from the central area, separated by thick canvas partitions that created private sleeping quarters. Small orbs hung from the supports, casting a soft ambient glow throughout the space.

  "This will be your section," Lana led her to one of the side chambers. The space was small but cozy, with enough room for a bedroll and personal items. A flap provided privacy from the main area.

  Kurda tossed her a rolled bundle. "Not the most comfortable, but it'll keep you warm."

  Elara caught the bedroll, noting its sturdy construction and thick padding. The fabric felt rough but durable under her fingers.

  "Satan and I will take a look around," Kurda announced, heading toward the tent's entrance with the armed cat following close behind.

  Elara unbuckled her armor, each piece landing with a soft thud beside her bedroll. The leather had grown uncomfortably stiff from dried sweat, and her muscles ached for freedom from its confines. She placed her belt next to the armor, keeping the Solstice Shard within arm's reach.

  Light footsteps outside her partition sent her hand flying to the dagger's hilt. The flap rustled, and Lana's head poked through the flap.

  "Everything okay?" Elara's grip remained tight on her weapon.

  "Oh, relax." Lana waved off her concern and plopped down on Elara's bedroll. "Can you believe that pink-haired guy? The way he just went off on that guy, Alaric Valemont?"

  Elara released her dagger with a sigh. "I'd rather not discuss it."

  "But don't you want to know the chitchat? House Valemont used to be something special, you know. They had this whole Viceroyship and everything, but then-"

  "Lana," Elara cut her off, "I'm tired."

  "Come on, aren't you curious? I heard they lost everything because-"

  "I really don't care about noble house politics." Elara turned away, arranging her belongings with unnecessary focus.

  Lana huffed. "You're no fun. This is the most exciting thing that's happened here in ages. That Darius guy was gorgeous too, even if he was angry. Did you see his hair?"

  Elara remained silent, hoping Lana would take the hint.

  Lana’s posture wilted, her hands resting limply in her lap as she stared at the bedroll’s stitching. The apprentice had probably just wanted company, and here Elara was shutting her down. Living at an inn must get lonely sometimes, even with the travelers.

  "Sorry," she said, softening her tone. "I didn't mean to be harsh. It's been a long day."

  Lana's face brightened. "Oh, that's okay! I know I get annoying sometimes."

  Elara settled cross-legged on her bedroll. "So what exactly is a viceroyship?" The question slipped out before she could stop herself. She tried to keep her voice casual, as if she was merely making conversation rather than exposing her ignorance.

  "You don't know?" Lana's eyes widened before she caught herself. "I mean, it's like being the Emperor's representative in a region. They collect taxes, maintain order, that sort of thing. House Valemont used to be one of the most powerful families around here because of it."

  "Used to be?" Elara prompted, genuinely curious now.

  "Yeah, they lost it decades ago. The Empire gave it to another house after they..." Lana trailed off, her brow furrowing. "Actually, I'm not really sure what happened. There are all sorts of rumors, but Kurda would know better. He's been here forever."

  Elara nodded, filing away the information. She hadn't realized noble houses could lose their positions like that.

  "So, how does that connect to what happened earlier?" Elara asked, pulling her knees to her chest. "With Darius?"

  Lana’s eyes lit up. "Well, ever since they lost the Viceroyship, House Valemont has been desperate to prove themselves. They keep throwing themselves into high-risk projects, trying to show they still matter." She leaned in, lowering her voice. "Like this dungeon expedition. Going out of their way to make sure that a dungeon in some far-off place gets closed before it breaks."

  Her face animated with excitement as she continued. "Not that closing a dungeon is anything special—honestly, most of the adventurers in the realm would line up for the job if you put out a notice." She waved a hand dismissively, then her expression sobered.

  "But if they mess it up? If the dungeon breaks before they finish the job?" Lana’s voice dropped, her fingers tapping restlessly against her belt. "Then suddenly, it’s not just another contract. It’s their fault. Their responsibility. And House Valemont can’t afford another failure."

  "It sounds like pretty boy went into the dungeons with people of House Valemont. Something must have gone wrong in there." Lana's fingers twisted in her lap. "He wouldn't have come out swinging like that for no reason."

  "But to challenge a noble house so openly...is that fine?" Elara frowned.

  "That's what makes it interesting!" Lana's eyes sparkled. "He must have some serious backing to pull that off. Maybe another noble house? Or the Adventuring Guild?"

  What Darius said filtered back in her mind. "What are these protocols he mentioned?"

  "Oh, those." Lana straightened. "They're like rulebooks for dungeons. Most first-timers die because they don't know what they're doing. So people started creating these sets of rules, when to retreat, how to handle different situations, that kind of thing."

  Elara thought back to her own dungeon experience. She had gotten no such protocol. Or even a hint at one. "And House Valemont has their own?"

  "Yeah, but from what Darius said, sounds like their protocol is shit." Lana shrugged. "Not surprising, really. They're so desperate to prove themselves, they probably rushed it."

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "What does-" Elara started to ask, but heavy footsteps outside the tent cut her off.

  Lana's eyes widened at the sound. She scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping.

  "Good night," she whispered, her words tumbling out in a rush. Before Elara could respond, Lana slipped through the canvas partition like a shadow fleeing sunrise.

  Elara blinked at the empty space where Lana had sat moments before. The apprentice's sudden exit left her puzzled. Surely a simple conversation about noble houses hadn't warranted such a hasty retreat? She shook her head, too tired to puzzle out the peculiarities of her new companions.

  Her muscles protested as she stretched out on the bedroll. Despite its rough texture, the padding cushioned her aching body better than she'd expected. The soft glow of the orbs dimmed, leaving only shadows dancing across the canvas walls. Sleep claimed her quickly, drawing her into darkness.

  Elara drifted into consciousness, her eyelids fluttering open. Two blue orbs stared directly into hers, mere inches from her face. Her heart leaped into her throat, an intense gaze fixed upon her. She slammed her eyes shut, pulse racing.

  A soft pressure landed on her arm. Then another. Something velvety touched her skin, a paw pad pressed against her forearm.

  Her eyes flew open again. Satan sat beside her, one paw extended to tap her arm. The fearsome warrior cat reminded her of a kitten seeking attention. The contrast between Satan's fierceness and this adorable gesture made her heart melt.

  "Oh my god," Elara whispered, barely containing her delight as Satan's paw pressed again. The pad felt impossibly soft against her skin, like touching the finest silk. She fought the urge to grab the paw and examine it closer, remembering Satan's previous warning about unauthorized touching.

  "Good morning, Sasa," Elara whispered, testing out the nickname. Satan's ears twitched at the sound, but the cat made no move to correct her. The moment broke as Satan stepped back, allowing Elara space to rise.

  She stretched, her joints popping as she reached for her gear. The leather armor felt stiff against her skin as she buckled each piece into place. The Solstice Shard found its home at her hip.

  Bright sunlight assaulted her eyes as she emerged from the tent. The sun hung high overhead. She must have slept well past morning. Satan padded ahead, tiny spear bobbing with each step, clearly expecting her to follow.

  Satan led her to a large fire pit where a black pot hung suspended over dancing flames. The aroma of herbs and cooking meat wafted through the air. Lana crouched beside it, methodically chopping vegetables and dropping them into the pot. Her red hair gleamed in the sunlight, the thorny vine holding her ponytail catching the light like polished wood.

  Elara scanned the clearing, noting the absence of people. The bustling energy from yesterday had dissipated, leaving behind an almost eerie quiet. Even the merchant stalls that had lined the paths were quiet.

  She walked over to where Lana stirred the pot, Satan trailing behind. The clearing's emptiness nagged at her. "Where is everyone?"

  "In the dungeon." Lana pointed through the trees, her hand gesturing toward a dense section of forest. "Most went in early."

  Elara hummed, watching the steam rise from the pot. The thought of another dungeon made her stomach twist. "What do you usually do when staying at a encampment?"

  Lana shrugged. "I help Kurda with the maintenance of the equipment and supplies," she replied. "I also craft and repair items for the adventurers who stay here. But mostly I tend to the fire, plan and cook the meals."

  Elara nodded. "That sounds interesting," she said, her voice genuine. "What kind of items do you craft?"

  Lana’s eyes lit up, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Oh, all sorts of things," she said, her voice warm with enthusiasm. "Ointments, dyes, poultices, even inks. If it can be made from the plants around us, I've probably crafted it at some point."

  She reached into her pouch, pulling out a small bundle of dried herbs, running her fingers over the brittle stems as she spoke. "People underestimate how much the wild provides. A little knowledge, a little patience, and suddenly, weeds become medicine, bark turns into cloth dye, and tree sap becomes glue."

  Elara listened attentively, intrigued by the depth of Lana’s knowledge. She hadn’t given much thought to the small, everyday things that kept a place like an inn running, how ink for ledgers, salves for weary travelers, or even simple stitched repairs all had to come from somewhere.

  Lana lingered beside her, settling into a comfortable rhythm as she pulled out a worn scrap of leather from her pouch and began working it with practiced fingers. "It’s not glamorous," she admitted, smoothing the material with her thumb. "But there’s something satisfying about turning something broken or overlooked into something useful again."

  She glanced at Elara, her expression thoughtful. "People throw things away too easily. A torn boot, a cracked belt, a frayed pouch, most don’t see the value in fixing them. But out here, a good repair can mean the difference between comfort and hardship."

  Lana gave a small smile, a hint of pride flashing in her eyes. "Another thing I do is patch up armor and boots, things adventurers wear down quickly inside the dungeon. Once someone gave me a shield that had a huge crack running through it. Took me a day and a half, but I reinforced it with barkweave fibers and some resin. It’s sturdier now than it was when he bought it."

  Elara’s eyes widened. "You fixed a shield with plants?"

  "Not just plants," Lana replied, chuckling softly. She held up a small vial of golden liquid. "This is resin from the Yornwood tree. It's tough and flexible when cured properly. A little alchemical trick and, bam! You’ve got a shield that’ll take a few more blows."

  Elara smiled, impressed. "That’s incredible. What else do you make?"

  Lana gestured toward a pouch at her side and opened it, revealing a collection of small, neatly wrapped packets. "Herbal salves and powders are always in demand. I made a healing balm using sunroot and frostvine, it’s great for burns and cuts. Oh, and these," she added, pulling out a bundle of dried leaves, "are sleepleaf sachets. You light one, and the smoke keeps insects away when you're out in the wild."

  Elara picked up one of the sachets, inspecting it closely. "You must know a lot about plants to make all this."

  Lana nodded, her expression softening. "I grew up learning from my mother. She was a herbalist in our village, and I’ve built on what she taught me. Dungeons cultivate their own plants, strange ones, with properties I’m still figuring out. Like mistfern. It’s almost useless for potions, but when braided into rope, it resists corrosion. I used it once to replace the handles on the adventurers’ gear. They loved it."

  Elara listened intently, absorbing every word. "That sounds so... useful," she admitted, her voice tinged with admiration. "I can’t imagine knowing how to turn something like a plant into fixing a shield or a balm."

  Lana gave her a quick glance, her smile growing warmer. "It’s not as hard as you’d think. Once you get the hang of identifying plants and their properties, it becomes second nature. I could teach you some basics, if you’re interested. Maybe even unlock a skill!"

  Elara hesitated, a flicker of excitement sparking in her chest. "I’d like that," she said softly, her lips curving into a small smile.

  The sun sat high, casting rays over the encampment. Lana stretched and stood, brushing her hands on her apron. "Well, I’d better get done with tonight’s meal. You’re welcome to join me. It’s not fancy, but I like to think it fills everyone’s stomachs and keeps them happy."

  Elara nodded eagerly. "I would love too".

  Lana bended down to grab a basket filled with prepared ingredients. As Elara stepped closer to the fire, the aroma of simmering broth filled the air. Lana explained she had prepared the stew base earlier and had simmered it for a few hours, allowing the flavors to meld. She unpacked the contents of her basket, revealing an assortment of vegetables and herbs.

  "We'll be adding some root vegetables to the stew," Lana said, handing Elara a knife and a wooden cutting board. She began pulling a variety of ingredients from a woven basket, their earthy scents filling the air. "I've got some rainroot, frostpotatoes, and goldturnips here. If you could chop them into bite-sized pieces, that would be great."

  Elara tilted her head as she picked up a frostpotato, its pale blue skin speckled with silver. "Frostpotatoes? These look different from the potatoes I’ve seen before."

  Lana chuckled, slicing the top off a rainroot, its vibrant blue-white color streaked with darker veins. "Frostpotatoes are hardy plants that grow in colder regions. They have a slightly sweeter taste than regular potatoes found in the empire, and they don’t spoil easily, perfect for long journeys."

  Elara nodded, running her fingers over the goldturnip’s glossy golden skin. "And these? They almost look too pretty to eat."

  Lana grinned. "Goldturnips are as nutritious as they are beautiful. They’re a little tougher to chop, but their flavor is rich and buttery when cooked. They also absorb spices really well, so they’re perfect for stews."

  Elara got to work, her knife carefully slicing through the frostpotatoes and goldturnips. "And the rainroot? I assume it adds hydration?"

  "Not just hydration," Lana retorted, her tone slightly mischievous. "It’s got a hint of spice to it, not enough to overpower the dish, but it adds warmth. It's a staple for stews around here."

  Elara was surprised at how natural it felt holding the small knife, her fingers curling around the handle. As she sliced through the vegetables, her movements were precise and efficient, the blade gliding through the flesh with ease.

  Lana watched her work, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You're pretty handy with a knife," she commented, a hint of admiration in her voice. "Have you done this before?"

  Elara paused, looking down at the neatly chopped vegetables before her. "I... I don't know," she admitted, a sense of confusion washing over her. "It just feels natural, like my hands know what to do."

  Lana nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Well, you're doing a great job. Keep it up, and we'll have this stew ready in no time."

  As Elara continued to chop the vegetables, her mind wandered to the strange familiarity of the task. She had cooked before, of course she had. But she had never been this proficient with a knife, especially with the precision and ease she displayed now. Each cut was exact, as though her hands were guided by muscle memory she didn't fully understand.

  Her gaze drifted to the knife Lana had handed her, a simple, functional blade designed for cooking. As the light glinted off its edge, she couldn't help but wonder. Was this skill due to her dagger-handling skill? The system in this world categorizes her movements with a blade, even in mundane tasks like chopping vegetables?

  Elara's grip on the knife tightened slightly as the thought took root. The possibility both intrigued and unsettled her. If her skill with daggers extended to something as harmless as food preparation, what else could her other skills apply to?

  They fell into an easy rhythm, working side by side as the day stretched on. Their conversation drifted from topic to topic, the weather, the latest gossip about travelers passing through, and funny stories about Satan's antics.

  During a lull in their chat, Elara shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of her own state. "I really regret not taking advantage of the bath at the inn," she admitted, running a hand through her hair.

  Lana's face twisted into what might have been meant as a sympathetic smile but came across more as a grimace. "I... well, I can smell it a little," she confessed.

  Heat rushed to Elara's cheeks, and she fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. Mortification crashed over her like a wave. Had everyone noticed? Had she been walking around camp reeking this whole time?

  "Oh god," Elara groaned, wanting to sink into the ground.

  "No, no!" Lana quickly waved her hands. "It's really not that noticeable. Besides, most people here smell worse. You should've been at the inn when a group came back from the dungeon after five days straight. Now that was bad." She wrinkled her nose at the memory. "Trust me, you're fine. At least you don't smell like a troll."

  The horror in Lana's expression as she recalled the memory made Elara laugh despite her embarrassment. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though she made a mental note to find some way to freshen up at the first opportunity.