Haeros Dungeon - Chapter 4 preview (Patreon)

A taut, heated silence lingered between us after that statement, her eyes fixed on mine. Petra licked those brown lips, limpid brown eyes staring into my own and then, with a start, shook her head, dark hair dancing for a moment as she straightened. Her eyes darted sideways, to the two attendants and the other members of my party, as she recalled where she was.

When she next spoke, her voice had grown colder. “The second brooch, of dark sight, might be of interest. It’s a little cheaper—” Flustered as she was, it seemed she had forgotten she was not meant to talk about prices. “—but like the shard garden, has good utility even when you’ve journeyed deep. There are numerous floors where vision is impaired and light sources few or extinguished entirely.”

“I remember.” The Aeres fault had one such floor and traversing it had been annoying – though not as difficult as it might have seemed, due to the presence of Kira. On the other hand, a single point of failure was a terrible idea, and while we had torches and lanterns, a brooch that gave me dark sight would still be better. “Definitely on the list.”

“Good.” She smiled a little. “It’s surprising how often we have to argue with new delvers about the importance of such utility units.”

“Yeah.”

“On that note.” She walked over to a simple piece of parchment. When unrolled, it was blank, while copy paper – magically enchanted paper that when pressed against another document would “copy” the information automatically – was right beside it. “This is a Wanderer’s Map. Once it’s linked, it will create a map of your travels. It is a journeyman’s work, so you can save up to three different locations in it – the city, a couple of floors – for example.”

“And the copy paper comes with it?”

“No, but we do sell them at a discount to graduates and those with a Wanderer’s Map. You’ll find that the Explorers Guild will purchase copies of maps too, though unless you have located a hidden or secret room, it’ll never be worth the cost of the paper.”

“Wouldn’t want to encourage that, now, would we?” I drawled, but made note of the magic item. It wasn’t what I wanted, right about now, and I couldn’t help but think that Kira’s family might have access to something similar. “Any other utilities?”

“Many, but I feel we should move on.”

I took the hint and waved the manager on, watching as the others in my party kept browsing, though both Brand and Yorrick kept their earliest picks close on hand. Kira was still asking questions, but I assumed the pair were just trying to make the most of their prize. Trying to make the perfect decision as they wandered through the floor.

I could have told them that there was no such thing as perfect, but they would not believe me. We are led to believe by hindsight that there are optimal choices, optional decisions as we grow older. Ways to reduce our regret. Get old enough and you’ll have a lot of them, if you aren’t careful.

The truth was, though, that while there are certainly bad decisions, there are no ways to know what any of those decisions might eventually lead to. Some lives, some choices are better at first, might eventuate in careers that pay better, relationships that sparkle brighter to start. Yet, in a decade or two, such choices might be shown to be false.

Computer science graduates learning to code, only to find their livelihoods torn apart as thousands of jobs were thrown overseas or disappeared during the AI craze. At the same time, those that worked the trades found themselves desperately in need.

Sports careers, flashing by so brightly and with such great funds, eventually leading to disabled minds and altered personalities as multiple brain injuries accumulated. Relationships strong in the beginning, breaking down as the pressures of careers, children and the wearing away of time and goals pushing individuals apart.

There was no guarantee in this world, though we might wish it. You did the best you could, and tried not to regret what choices you made. That was all, really.

I could have told them, but I was also old enough to know that for some lessons, it was better to let the kids learn for themselves. A single line of advice dropped now might result in a true harvest years down the road, rather than prodding them in the direction that I felt they were deserving of.

“You’re not listening,” Petra said, pouting just a little and drawing my attention back to her.

Quickly, I reviewed her words in my mind, grateful that I wasn’t entirely ignoring her before I shook my head. “I am – mostly. However, I don’t think the wand you’re suggesting fits my style. While a ranged attack might be of benefit, and this would be much faster to learn to use well, my job is to get close after Yorrick has taken their attention. Trying to angle for a shot might work sometimes, but I think paying better attention to the fight makes more sense.”

“Fine.” She sniffed. “So, no shields then, or anything like that?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Yorrick has the shield; it’s his job to take the attacks. I have been considering some form of throwing axe or hatchet, a couple for use, but I can get some basic ones and practice till I’m good at it.”

Contrary to popular pop-culture shows, a single throwing knife rarely did anything more than annoy the person being struck. You might injure the person enough for them to die, eventually, from blood loss if you were really lucky; but without a skill or some other skill adding to it, it made little sense to invest in something so small.

Marian, of course, had her skills and probably enchanted weaponry. Great if the knives were poisoned, or cursed or otherwise had secondary effects on those struck. Not so much just by themselves. Never mind the fact that the amount of skill needed to make sure that the pointy end went into the other person was significant.

Anyone who went to one of the fad axe-throwing gyms realized how much skill there was in making sure your throwing instrument went into the board. Doing that repeatedly, every single time with a fixed distance and objects of the same form and weight, took time and practice.

Then, in a real fight, the distances were always changing, the places you had to target were specific – no point throwing a knife or axe into an armored spot – and one began to realize exactly how tough such things were.

That’s why you rarely saw armies with thousands of such soldiers. Spears, or javelins, at least were guaranteed to always go pointy end first, required a lot less training and did a ton more damage. Same with crossbows, which…

“I wonder if I could buy a crossbow?” Of course, a handheld one like in Tang dynasty China allowed you to shoot a ton since reloading was one-handed, but they had little penetrating power, comparatively speaking. On the other hand, the advantage was you could carry them pretty easily, and with upgrades in our strength as we went down, the amount of draw weight was likely to increase.

“We have none here,” Petra said, gesturing down at the few other offensive options she had gathered for my review. I gave them one last scan – a Ring of Blinding Light, more for sensory deprivation than a direct attack, an Ever-Present Knife that, once stuck in, refused to be extracted till the magic word was spoken and the piece-de-resistance, the Rod of Ice Spikes – that I had rejected. I shook my head.

“In that case, I might be done.”

I rubbed my chin, taking one last look around. There was one last thing I could think of, the only question was if she had it. Oh, and if it made any sense.