Artyom was awoken by a loud yawn bellowing from the center of camp. Still wrapped in his cheap sleeping bag, he lifted his torso up while trying to make out his surroundings and the source of the cacophony. As he blinked out eye crust, Artyom was able to make out the vague shape of the Great Hero, Tommy, whom he was travelling with walking across camp. He was performing rough stretches while flanked on both sides by Xerica and Daisy.

Artyom sighed in relief when he realized his wards and alarm spells hadn’t activated while he was asleep. He honestly felt like an earthworm while swaddled in the lumpy fabric of his cheap sleeping bag, and thankful that he wasn’t killed by something dangerous while in such a vulnerable state. Perhaps he had Neitra to thank for that, who’d just finished her night watch shift, now that everyone was waking up. Or more likely, the assassins who attacked last night while it was his turn were all that was sent after them.

“Alright, everyone,” began Xerica, clapping her hands together quickly and forcefully to get everyone’s attention. “We’re only an hour away from the dungeon, so we’re going to clear it out and get back to town by tonight! Let’s all meet back in half an hour, and we’ll get going.”

With a practiced military discipline, Artyom quickly freed himself from his cloth cocoon and began to ready himself for the day. A washing and cleansing spell on his teeth, a trip to a hole in the ground near a stream, and a hand wash with soap later, Artyom was back in camp heating water in a metal pot with the tea leaves he’d purchased from Brimhaven as part of his rations. He practically ran on caffeine, and while the brew he was preparing wasn’t a triple shot of espresso, it would have to do.

After letting the tea cool and pouring it into paper cups, he took a sip. He braced himself against the puckering sour of the tannins in his drink, but forced it all down while trying to minimize its contact with his tongue.

Neitra was making her way back to camp as well, also done with her business. Artyom offered her the second cup and she let its contents quickly slide down her throat with practiced ease. Ah, to finally meet another caffeine connoisseur.

“It’d be nice if we had some milk or sugar to go along with it,” said Artyom, attempting to break the ice.

Neitra nodded in agreement. “I’ll buy some next time we’re in town.”

“Anything interesting happened during your shift? Since we’re all alive, I’m guessing no.”

She nodded again. “I was scared of more assassins, or that I might miss one, but thank the Goddess we’re all fine.”

It was Artyom’s turn to nod this time. He had plenty of questions he wanted to ask Neitra and the others, but the half an hour timer was up and the party was ready to head to the dungeon. Nobody said a word while on the road, probably because it was too early to hold a decent conversation, at least for the hero. Though to Artyom, 9:30 in the morning wasn’t early enough. He didn’t have time to try and strike one, however. As Xerica had predicted, barely an hour had passed when the team reached the foot of the mountains.

Tommy, now taking charge, looked around with laser-focus until he found a large cave entrance he seemed to recognize.

“That’s our Tommy!” exclaimed Xerica. The other ladies showered him with similar praise, and even Artyom joined in with an insincere congratulatory pat on the shoulder.

“Well, it’s another cave, so you all know what that means,” began the Great Hero in a sigh. “Neitra, can you scout it out and disable any traps?”

Neitra nodded and began walking towards the cave entrance.

“Hold on, would it be fine if I come along?” asked Artyom. “You look like you could use the company.”

Neitra nodded again, and motioned Artyom to join her. The other ladies looked at them happily, but Artyom assumed it was because they were both getting out of their collective hair. Tommy, on the other hand, looked quite smug and returned the pat on the shoulder as Artyom passed him by.

The cave itself was quiet and lightless, prompting a casting of the same spells Artyom used in his previous delve. Pitchblack Vision balanced with Detect Life, along with Mote in the Wind once again made him as stealthy as any rogue. A similar application of Skills from Neitra put her right on par. The fear of what happened last time was still on his mind, and prompted additional cautions from Artyom.

The beginning trek through the cave proceeded at a snail’s pace due to Artyom’s insistence on thoroughly inspecting the ground he and Neitra walked on, with even the slightest imperfection prompting an even finer examination. It was starting to get on Neitra’s nerves. By the 10th minute, she spoke up.

“What’s taking you so long?!” she asked in a whisper, her quiet voice seething with frustration. “This is only the entrance of the dungeon, there aren’t going to be any traps until we get farther in!”

“Hey, that last dungeon was a nightmare for me and I know it was worse for you all! After that experience, I’m not taking any risks here,” replied Artyom indignantly.

“What do you mean? The last dungeon wasn’t that bad. There were just tripwire traps and there weren’t any enemies either. Even when there are enemies, they’re always after the puzzle.”

“...Really?” asked Artyom. He figured Neitra’s dark vision Skill must’ve been incredibly potent, because she mirrored the look of confusion on his face. “She didn’t know about the Kobolds...”

“You know what,” said Artyom, “I’ll follow your lead on this, let’s get going.”

He lifted himself from the odd bump on the floor he was inspecting after confirming at mundane and began to walk towards Neitra more casually, yet still aware of his surroundings. The two of them picked up the pace and began covering ground at a faster rate. The sound of muffled footsteps was all that filled the cavern for several more minutes, until Neitra felt confident enough that they were safe to break the silence.

“So, you never told me why you joined us. Tommy said that you’re a fan,” said Neitra.

“Hm? Yeah, you can say that. I mainly want to learn more about and help him out,” replied Artyom. Getting closer to all of the party members would help him in turn with doing the same with the Great Hero. Trust begot trust, after all. These machiavellian machinations were certainly all that motivated this decision.

“How about you? Why did you join the hero?” asked Artyom, a layer of earnesty acting as a facade to his true motivations, or vise versa.

“The Dark Lord is a threat to the kingdom, and he needs to go. I thought I could join the army in the fight against him, but Tommy’s supposed to be the one who can stop him for good, so I figured teaming up with him would be the best way for me to help in the fight.”

As motivations came, that was a relatively common one, albeit barebones. Neitra had a goal and pursued the most efficient way of achieving it. But Artyom knew that behind that goal was probably an interesting story. Perhaps a tale of tragedy and a thirst for revenge? Great loss that brought forth a raw, black hatred for this Dark Lord that only his head on a pike would quell? Artyom had to know.

“What made you pick up the fight against him in the first place? And as a rogue at that?”

“Well…” she began. “My father was a soldier and he fought against the previous Dark Lord decades ago. He taught me everything about doing the right thing and fighting against evil.”

“And then the Dark Lord killed him?” guessed Artyom.

“What? No!” replied Neitra, shocked. “He’s still alive. Everything he taught just means a lot to me. After he retired, the Kingdom continued to take care of him with a pension and send someone once in a while to make sure he’s doing fine. If the Kingdom is going to take care of all of us and especially him after doing so much for them, then they’re worth fighting for. So I trained hard to be strong enough to do that.”

“Oh,” said Artyom, scratching his hair. He hoped Neitra’s dark vision Skill wasn’t good enough to let her see him blushing. “Then what about becoming a rogue? Why choose that instead of a soldier like your dad?”

“Well, I already had levels from it when I was a child. My mom was a baker and I’d always try to sneak around her to steal the cookies she made. I got better at it as time went on, and one day, I got a level in [Rogue].”

Artyom stood silent for a few seconds, before making a low-pitched gurgling sound.

“What is it?” asked Neitra.

“Pfft, haha!” Artyom couldn’t hold it any longer, and burst into a fit of giggles.

Neitra stopped in place and replied with a pout that would put any toddler’s temper tantrum to shame. “And here I thought you were different from the others.”

After some more chuckling, Artyom took several breaths to calm himself before speaking. “Sorry, it’s not like that. You have a wonderful story and I’m happy for you and your goals.”

That seemed to assuage some of the anger on her face, but not fully. She still expected an explanation.

“It’s just that I was expecting something much darker. Listening to your much more innocent story, it’s honestly a breath of fresh air. I’m sorry for laughing.”

They began walking again, and it took several feet of distance covered before she responded. “It’s alright, I forgive you. But why would you expect something darker? Was your life so bad?”

“You could say that,” replied Artyom hesitantly. The best policy was to be vague yet truthful, so as to not trigger any truth spells or Skills. Still, it was an opportunity to talk about it to someone who wouldn’t be able to hold that knowledge over him after he’d finished his mission. “When I was younger, I was dragged into a war that had nothing to do with me. Kidnapped by some asshole king to fight for him against six other kingdoms.”

“Against your will? How did they make you fight then?” asked Neitra, bewildered.

“They told me I was the chosen one, and I believed them.”

“Wait, I thought Tommy’s the chosen one?”

“He is, just not for that prophecy. Of course, there never was any prophecy. They just lied to me about it so I’d fight for them,” explained Artyom.

Neitra’s eyes went wide, not just because of the lack of light. “What happened? Did you win the war? Did you escape?”

“Hm…” Artyom reminisced. “Eventually I found the others. It turns out, the other kingdoms had the same idea to recruit their own fake chosen ones who had nothing to do with the fight. We ended up realizing we were all from the same place and quit. But not before making sure those kingdoms could never pull that shit again. We’d keep others safe.”

The two walked in silence some more.

“Where was all of this?” asked Neitra. “It must’ve been far away, I’ve never heard of seven whole kingdoms fighting a war with each other at once! I’ve only really ever heard of this one and the Tecca kingdom to the North.”

“Yeah, it was really far away.”

“Hey… do you think the same could be happening to Tommy? No, that can’t be. The Goddess herself said he’s the chosen one, not some evil king.”

“...”

“You think that he might not be here because he wants to?”

She’s sharp. “Well, I said I was a fan. And his well being is also something I care about. I just hope and pray that everything is fine for him.”

Neitra left the conversation at that. She made a silent prayer to the Goddess on behalf of Artyom. He made his own prayer, to someone or something else entirely, to whatever governed this cold, uncaring multiverse.