"Adventurers," one of the figures in black said with pronounced distaste. I couldn't help noticing the five of them were all men or dressed to appear as such, their bodies and heads fully covered in matching gear. The presumed leader's was enchanted and had visible embellishments, including a V-shaped medal marking him as a Veteran. His aura slapped me in the face with the power of at least a Gold-Ranker's. Standing slightly in front, he was the one who'd spoken. And was still speaking: "Or just a bunch of filthy kids. Are you bandits or scavengers?"

"Neither," Bessie said, bravely stepping up. "We came here to help rescue survivors and are just resting our feet. The villagers and other volunteers took off to the next village." She indicated the direction.

"A likely story," he drawled. "How many people did you 'rescue,' hmm?"

"Around two hundred?"

She glanced to me for confirmation, and I unfroze enough to nod. Feeling the Veteran's ire increasing, I blurted: "Um, a little more than that. I think we found two hundred and seventeen... alive..."

I couldn't do more than squeak the last as the Mercenary exploded in my senses, the violence coiled within him unleashed in an instant that saw me yanked off my feet. I could hear shouts resounding as from a distance, but I was more preoccupied with the emotions slamming into me up close of anger, grief, suspicion, and fear packed into a hard knot layered over with naked aggression. My hand instinctively flew up to the one closed around my throat, but his grip was iron, the skin unbreakable beneath my flimsy fingers. I grew dizzy with panic, my feet scrabbling for purchase--

"She's a Scholar!" Blake's voice cut through the chaos, louder than I'd ever heard him use.

I failed to see how this was relevant to the current situation, but the Mercenary's hold abruptly loosened even as his tension rose further. "Bullocks."

"Does she seem like an adventurer to you?" Bessie demanded and then glanced at me. "No offense."

The familiar phrasing almost made me laugh, given the situation. But, um, didn't, given the situation. I failed to conceal a flinch as the Veteran glowered at me, his aura pressing down like strangling vines. My neck throbbed; I would probably have bruises come morning. "Well then," he said suddenly, "I'm sure you can teach me how [Advanced Greater Strength] works to gain the Skill."

I gaped at him. Not this again! For a moment, and despite myself, irritation and frustration overcame fear and caution and natural prey instinct, like hot rays spearing through a miasma of clouds. "I could detail our current state of understanding vis-a-vis [Advanced Greater Strength]," I snapped, "Or I could describe current practices and unsubstantiated methodologies to increase the likelihood of obtaining the Skill, but while I will not say those two are completely unrelated, they are dissimilar enough to amount to the same."

Finishing my statement, we locked eyes, which was all it took for me to remember myself. Flushing, I instantly looked down.

"Yeah, all right," the Mercenary said, releasing me and stepping back. "I believe you. That or I congratulate recruiting quite the conwoman." I glanced up, but though his words made him sound less dangerous, he was eyeing my friends as though considering grabbing one of them next. "So tell me, why exactly are you here?"

"I told you," Bessie started to reply.

"No. I want to hear it from the Scholar." And his attention once again zeroed in on me.

I gulped. And suddenly and coincidentally realized I needed to use the restroom.

"Well, you're scaring her." Bessie pointed out the obvious.

To my surprise, the Veteran distanced himself, not quite rejoining his followers but near enough, all the while shaking his head. "And you say we Mercenaries play dirty."

"Hey, she's our friend. It's not like she even signed up with the guild to take on quests together, she chose to join for the classes."

I was briefly distracted by her implication amidst the rest of my confusion. "You mean if I wasn't Bronze-Ranked, you wouldn't have asked me to come?"

"If you were a total civilian, we'd have needed special permission to bring you," Bessie explained, "Which would have taken time and probably been denied, seeing as you don't have some specially helpful Skill for the situation."

"This isn't your first emergency quest, is it?" I asked in realization.

"Do we look like layabouts?"

"To be fair, this is our most productive one yet," Hannah said. "And they usually pay."

"If you girls are done chatting?"

"Oh, sorry," I said, though at least the Veteran didn't feel as angry anymore, simply irritated. "Um... we heard of the natural disaster -- the earthquake and landslide -- and came to help. When we arrived, the only ones with useful perception Skills had the first-tier [Life Sense]..."

I went on to explain the group casting, the separation in three directions, and our late coming to the village along with my need for rest. "Hopefully the villagers can take over from here, or somebody with better perception Skills shows up?" I looked at the Mercenaries searchingly and was somewhat reassured by the steadiness of their emotions, though I didn't know if that was confidence or just discipline. "Else we should try another group casting at the end to be sure."

After a pause, the Veteran spoke. By now I was fairly sure they had some internal policy forcing the subordinate Mercenaries to behave like mute drones. "Is that what they told you? So sure it was a natural earthquake?" We looked at him in confusion. "My bet is some fool adventurer went poking where they shouldn't, woke up something nasty, and we all up here are collateral."

"Sounds like you're just eager to point fingers," Bessie said, which seemed ill-advised.

"Is there any proof of that?" I asked hurriedly.

"The last 'natural' disaster turned out to be manmade. And the one before. Arrogant, idiotic adventurers are always spoiling for a fight and don't care how many houses get knocked down. That proof enough?"

We stared at him. "Other natural disasters?" Bessie asked.

He frowned back. "You're not from around here, then."

"We're with Wilton's Guildhall. In Grimmark."

The tension in the air instantly dropped. I supposed just as we saw Mercenary branches as mostly individualistic, each branch saw their conflict as local, even though adventurers tended to be more mobile. "We're wasting time," he said. "Show me the bodies."

"We only found one, the other two are missing," I clarified nervously as I led him to the lone grave. It had felt odd to spend so much time digging people up only to bury one again, but we'd thought a bit of impromptu ceremony might also help villagers process their tribulation and loss. Bessie and Tom obligingly undid their earlier efforts, and I held my breath as the Veteran's emotional strain reached an all-time peak, bending over to look.

He straightened, giving nothing away externally. But judging from his internal reaction, this wasn't the village he was interested in. "We'll be proceeding ahead then." He nodded at us briskly, strode to the other Mercenaries, and pivoted sharply. "[Fast March]."

They sped off on the trail Bessie had earlier indicated, maintaining a V-shaped formation like a five-person flock of birds.

"That's an army Skill," I noted, relaxing with their departure. "Looks like Nomalia's Mercenaries are more military."

"And did you see their armor?" Hannah said. "I know some Mercenaries prefer black, but they don't usually go that far."

"Should we still head that way as well?" Bessie asked more practically. "Or try another village instead?"

She asked all of us, but I could tell her concern was mostly directed at me. I flushed, looking down. Now that the adrenaline was fading, I was reminded again of my bodily concerns. "I'm fine," I said. "I'm more worried whether I can travel that far without my feet bleeding. But first... um, where do we use the restroom?"

My friends stared at me with blank expressions. "You use a bush," Bessie said.

I stared back. "Very funny?"

"Can you give us some privacy?" Hannah asked abruptly.

"Hey, I'm a girl too!"

"You're also not always the most sensitive, Bessie."

"No offense," Tom quipped.

After she'd shooed them away, Hannah turned back to me with real sympathy. "Believe it or not, I took a guild class that actually covered this. You know I joined around a year before meeting the others? They all seemed to take to adventuring like fishes to water, but it took me a while to catch my bearings." She patted my head. "In your case, you should probably read some books."

I brightened, suddenly feeling on surer footing. "What a brilliant idea. There must be a good book for that! And I just recalled the cantrip [Self-Cleansing] upgrades to include purging the bladder and bowels." It would also make me feel a lot better in regards to immediate cleanup, though sadly the cantrip couldn't take care of the seeming layers of dirt, dust, and grime everybody had ended up caked in. But then I faltered, hesitating, dreading the answer yet needing to know. "Bessie wasn't joking, was she?"

"I'm afraid not."

"A bush? Really?"

"Well, anywhere that offers concealment, though... be careful of danger. Lucky you can probably sense most things to avoid?" Red-faced, she tried to explain the technical procedure without referring to any explicit details, finishing with: "Uh, try not to touch anything you can't be sure of, and always bring your own paper. Oh, here." She reached into her pack and offered me a roll.

"That won't be a problem for me," I said without thinking, taking it, "Since there's always [Scribe]."

We paused, staring at each other, and then both cracked up. "Oh! Bessie would have a fit!" Hannah doubled over. "You know she thinks your precious Scribed paper's the prettiest thing ever?"

Unfortunately, the laughter was not helping my lower situation. Neither were my nerves. I looked around for a candidate bush, shaking my head as I realized: "I can't believe everyone else was ducking out over the day and I didn't even notice."

"I'm surprised you've held out this long... Wait, did you have anything to eat or drink before coming here?"

"Um... no?" I'd been too nervous about the upcoming meeting with the Copyist Scholar. "But Tom fed and watered me during my first break."

"You should have said something, you must have been dying of thirst!" No, not really. I supposed I might've once again been inadvertently influenced by my Empathy, through which I could sense Hannah's concern peaking before giving way to pragmatism. "Never mind, sorry we haven't been taking better care of you. Hurry and finish up, all right?"

After some extremely awkward minutes, our whole group reconvened and returned to our original issue of travel. I might have been willing to push myself, but the pain in my feet was not letting up. Good thing I hadn't tried running for my freedom, once upon a time: the thought did not improve my mood. "I'm sorry, but there's just no way I'm walking another mile."

"No, we won't ask you to," Bessie said. "But... Tom can carry you?"

We both looked at her then each other. "Um," I said.

Tom scratched his cheek. "You know what, I could try. Basically like a loaded carry drill, yeah?"

Unfortunately, there was no dignified way to undergo the operation. He ended up carrying me piggyback style while the others restrained their outward expressions of mirth. I appreciated their intent, at least. "I must say I have never felt more motivated to improve my fitness," I muttered. "From now on, if I ever start slacking, just remind me of this moment."

Tom huffed a laugh. "Will do."

Our speed definitely improved from when I'd been on my feet, and with Blake scouting ahead, Bessie leading us, and Hannah guarding our rear, Tom only had to focus on running while carrying me, which he boasted he could do all day. I estimated we'd run a few miles when Blake reappeared, saying, "Sounds of battle up ahead."

My heart sank as the atmosphere shifted in an instant. While Bessie was eager and the others sensibly cautious, I couldn't help thinking this was the real reason adventuring didn't suit me. I could deal with sore feet, exhausting labor, dead bodies, lack of cleanliness, embarrassing nature breaks, missed food and water, and even unprovoked intimidation that was over too fast for me to really react. But I... I was not suited for 'real' fights. I would be more of a burden than boon, and my friends might endanger themselves protecting me, and all of a sudden I wished I was back in my library.

"How far?" Bessie asked.

"A mile or two? The wind was blowing away," Blake answered almost apologetically.

"Can you scout it out, meet back up before we're likely to be noticed?"

He didn't bother to reply, disappearing in the space of a breath. Well, I could still sense him, moving far faster than the Mercenaries when traveling. Without a word, we followed, sacrificing a little speed for around as much stealth.

My brows furrowed as we drew closer and I sensed... yes, there was a lot of aggression, but... I could only hope I was wrong.

Blake reappeared. "It's the Mercenaries."

"And a monster?" Bessie said hopefully.

"And our adventurers," he confirmed.

We all groaned. "Does this sort of thing happen often?" I asked.

"No, usually any skirmishes are kept quieter." Hannah sighed. "But this isn't Grimmark."

"We keep going," Bessie said. "And let them hear us."

"What if the other adventurers ask us to help?" Tom wanted to know.

"Depends, but our priority should be defusing the situation, checking any injured, and guarding the civilians. Maybe we can remind those Mercenaries this area isn't stable."

Not one minute after she said that, as Blake was describing the rather one-sided, Gold-powered battle -- why were we still heading in this direction, again? -- a bright light flashed and then a roar erupted in the distance, sweeping over us like a tangible wall of sound. We kept going for a few seconds before Tom stumbled to a stop ahead of the others and let me slide down, at which point I realized he wasn't trembling. The ground was.

"Bessie..." Hannah was staring upwards in horror. Following her gaze, I gasped. A cloud of dust appeared to be rolling down the mountainside like fog, but it was only the herald to the wave of earth sweeping downwards. As I watched, an enormous boulder broke ranks to carve a violent pathway downslope, making me think briefly and longingly of the joke boulder in our last quest.

We had been warned, and we had discussed the possibility, but... it wasn't until I was faced with a literal landslide that I truly believed it would happen. If I'd had time before the mission, I might have read up on them instead of simply knowing there were different classifications. Or perhaps I could have asked Blake to bring a relevant book...

Blake who was crouched with his hands over his ears, Bessie by his side. "Can you hear me?" she asked, and I was relieved I could over the ringing in my ears. He nodded. "Good," Bessie said in an eerily calm voice. "I need you to grab Rena and go. Find a house or something that's still standing and come back for us if you can."

He didn't hesitate. I was still processing her words when I was bodily swung over a shoulder and the land began to speed by beneath me. Whereas Tom was an obvious muscleman, Blake was a lot stronger than he looked. That was likely from his time in the Underworld or just him, as I couldn't recall dark elves being notably stronger. And I could not believe my thoughts were so inane at a time like this, but... I was probably in shock.

Think, was there anything useful I could do?

...No. I could not think of a thing.

I was laying still, trying at least not to add to Blake's burden, so I didn't see when we arrived. I felt the crowd of emotions, though, and said: "You can put me down. I'll look for a place." My words came out cool and controlled, but truthfully I'd sensed us drawing nearer the Mercenaries, inspiring a fresh wave of panic at the thought of Blake bursting in on them and dropping me off alone.

Again he didn't waste his breath or time, starting back nearly before he'd deposited me on my feet. I looked around, taking in the freshly unburied village that would soon be reburied. It had done even better in the last landslide than our first village, or at least, more than one building had survived seemingly unscathed, each house-survivor currently filled to bursting with riotous emotions. Unfortunately, they also resembled squat one-floor huts on the outside rather than assured sanctuaries.

I selected the one with the calmest feelings inside and knocked before trying the door, which opened easily. "Excuse me? Do you have room for five more?" I inquired of the throng of people. They weren't jostling elbows or anything, but there was no way to walk a straight line across the floor without asking someone to move.

"Come, come," said one elderly seated man.

"Where are the other four?" asked a middle-aged woman. "The door closes in..." She closed her eyes, and I could sense her mana shifting. "Another minute, maybe two."

"You're an earth mage?" I asked interestedly. No wonder the people here were calmer. She didn't reply, and I turned around to hide how I was closing my own eyes. I focused and -- there, Blake and Hannah were headed here at speed, pulling away from a slower-moving Bessie, with Tom lagging behind farther off. I twinged with instant guilt -- had carrying me tired him out? -- before logic reasserted itself. He and Hannah had always been slower than Bessie. More importantly, was he moving slower than the landslide?

Reopening my eyes, I nodded to the people inside. "They're almost here. I'll just go point the way." Without waiting for a reply, I closed the door and hurried forward, calling: "Blake! Go get Tom!"

A moment later, he was off again while Hannah continued roughly in my direction. I met up with her, showed her the building, and then of course she insisted we wait together for the others. I could hear and feel the landslide approaching, a rumbling sound that carried through the ground, and I couldn't help looking upwards to view the oncoming natural... manmade disaster.

If those trigger-happy Mercenaries hadn't gotten into a fight...! I cursed them silently to myself, since I hadn't the courage or stupidity to voice my thoughts aloud.

Bessie arrived, cheeks flushed and panting for breath, but she wouldn't hear of resting inside. Then the three of us were met with the incongruous sight of Blake piggybacking Tom, which might've been comical some other time, but the thing was... even now, he was fast. The combined duo came bull-rushing toward us almost like a full-frontal attack. We probably looked as though we were fleeing them from the outside, as we turned and sprinted for our chosen refuge.

We crowded into the hut with seconds to spare. The villagers directed us away from the door, which might have seemed like distrust, but I noticed how select members were strategically positioned around the room and the anticipatory tension in the air. The rumbling grew louder, louder, until the roar of sound reminded me of the one that had started this mess, though whether it had been the fault of the Mercenaries or their opponents, I didn't know.

The earth mage said: "Now!"

"[Wall Fortification]!" a dozen voices shouted, along with at least one other Skill that was drowned out in the noise.

Just in time, as the light through the windows vanished, leaving only a handful of torches to see by. It sounded like a hailstorm descended on us or a mob of pelting fists. Then like boulders were grinding against each other right outside. Then I thought I heard wood creaking and held my breath... but no, perhaps that was merely the shifting of earth. Our world was muted, the sounds buried.

And for a time, there was silence.

Blake broke it: "Those idiot Mercenaries."

"Fight-happy fools," Hannah the adventurer said without irony.

I was surprised by Bessie and Tom's silence, but glancing over, they looked to still be catching their breaths. I contributed instead: "I see why they were so sure arrogant idiocy must be responsible."

"Bah, adventurers are just as bad," one of the villagers said.

I glanced over, and she stared back at me with equal surprise. "What did she say?" Hannah whispered, at which point I realized I'd heard Nomalian.

"Fighting is bad," the villager supplied in clipped Common while daring me with her eyes.

I flushed, looking down. "Yes, that."

Another said, "Being buried is what's bad," to which I couldn't disagree.

I looked to the earth mage hopefully, but she seemed to be Meditating. "Get some rest. We will probably be here at least a day," the elderly man said.

Unfortunately, nobody contradicted this assessment. I considered suggesting another group casting or something equally proactive, but I did not feel up for such an undertaking. Yet I also felt too worried, stressed, and energized to sleep, nor was I low on mana to justify Meditating. However, I knew there was one thing that never failed to make me feel better.

I turned to Tom. "Can I have my book back, please?"

For some reason, I received some strange looks for my completely suitable and restful activity, and more after I cast a simple cantrip to promote good reading: "Light." (My friends, on the other hand, were entirely unsurprised.) I happily curled up and continued the biographical accounts of all twenty-two of the currently known and active Dungeon Contractors. Of particular interest to me was Herohall's Contractor, Named Knight Champion, the one righteous exception in this apparent hive of top-tier villainy. Of unwilling interest was Hellsfell's Contractor, so I didn't mind when a disturbance outside caused a stir among my present company. I blinked around, surprised. What, were we being rescued already?

Apparently so, as light abruptly flooded the room, indicative of how little time had passed. The door swung open, revealing... a little old lady? Her pink-colored knitwear and cat-eye spectacles lent her a disarming air, but even without the oddity of her entrance I couldn't help noticing her presence and emotions were obscured from me. In the sudden silence, you could have heard a pin drop.

Peering around, her eyes met mine, whereupon her face crinkled into a warm smile. "Junior Loress?" I nodded dumbly. "Senior Rubrik sent me. He's worried about you."

"Oh," I said, flushing as the room's attention swung onto me. "Sorry? Um, and who might you be?"

"An Executive Scholar, my dear." She gestured out the door, and moving on autopilot, I obeyed, vaguely noticing how others moved out of the way. Looking me over, she tutted. "How are you feeling?"

I'd been trying my best to avoid thinking of it, but seeing her immaculate appearance, I admitted honestly: "Dirty." It felt like the only clean part of me was my book!

"I bet you would appreciate a warm bath, hm?"

I sighed wistfully. And to soak my feet? "Definitely."

I had thought her question was intended as wishful thinking, or maybe as a prelude to a cleansing Skill, but she withdrew a compact from her handbag and opened it. To my shocked delight, the inside revealed not a hand mirror but living space, like I was looking through a small window. "Go on," my beneficent savior urged, eyes twinkling.

Lifting a trembling hand, I pressed it to the surface and disappeared inside.

The relocation was smooth and instantaneous. From my perspective, the rest of the world was whisked away and replaced with a new set of scenery, my own footing stable and unchanged. This was a top-tier spatial item, all right. Looking around, I appeared to be in a standard reception room, essentially a larger and more decorated version of the living room in Hannah's family home. Aware of my very dirty self in such a clean space, I spotted a hallway and gingerly stepped through, finding a bathroom the first door down.

The rune-operated bath was as luxurious and impressive as the rest of this place. One touch and it filled with water, another adjusted the temperature, and a third added scented oils and bubbles. I briefly wondered how somebody not conversant in runes or sensitive to mana would manage, but then the readied bath drew me in like a siren's call, sweeping all secondary thoughts away.

As I lay there in relaxed bliss, I remembered my friends. In my defense, this all had been a sudden and spectacularly shocking turn of events! I had expected an Executive Scholar might arrive if I remained trapped overlong, by which I meant overnight at the very least. But I certainly hadn't been ready for her to come so soon much less equipped with an exorbitantly lush bathroom. Nobody could blame me for indulging a little.

Besides, my friends were right outside and certainly fine. The Executive Scholar would have explained everything to them already, and they were probably relieved to no longer have to keep carrying me. After all, I was sure I wasn't just imagining the aches and pains in my feet dissipating, thanks to whatever miraculous solution was in the bath. The skin around my neck no longer felt tender, either.

Nonetheless, I resisted the urge to lean over to where I'd carefully placed my book and spend the next hour loving my life. It didn't feel right with my friends and the Executive Scholar waiting outside. Instead, after checking my feet over and extracting myself from sinful temptation, I briskly and efficiently used the bathroom's various grooming features to reset my appearance in accordance with my usual clean and tidy habits. (I could've wept when my dress was restored to its full beauty.) Also, I used the toilet, vowing never to take such convenience for granted again. Then I returned to the entrance room, easily identified the door as the exit source, and touched the rune to swing it open...

Or not. I frowned at the door, which hadn't budged. Surely the Executive Scholar didn't mean to trap me, right? Oh, of course, it was her spatial item's external form: the compact must be closed.

No sooner had the reassuring realization occurred to me than there was a click as of unlocking and the rune lit up. I tapped it again...

...And I was outside. I instantly sensed my emotional friends, among others. They were happier to see me than before our first quest, which made me feel guilty for apparently worrying them. I still couldn't detect the Executive Scholar, though she stood right in front of me, but that didn't change the grateful smile I gave her. "Thank you, that was without reservation the best bath I've had in my life."

"You are most welcome." She scrutinized me. "Will you be all right here? Do you want to return to the Guildhall together?"

"More than all right, thank you. And um, I'd like to return with my friends?"

"Very well." I watched as she returned compact to handbag and withdrew a book, not just any book but an artifact that made my eyes pop. It was a grimoire, similar to a bound collection of reusable scrolls in usage, but considerably more rare and valuable. (Given the choice between the two, I would pick the grimoire even over her marvelous spatial item, though I was probably biased. No, on second thought, the latter could contain a portable library... just imagine!) With practiced ease, she opened to a glowing page.

"Is... is that an Advanced Teleportation spell?" I asked with awe. No wonder she could come so soon after I needed rescue!

"Good eye. Shall I cast it slowly for your Appraisal?"

"Yes, please!"

She was truly a gift that kept on giving, for she did just that. And with a final: "Take care, dear girl," she disappeared in a spectacular fountain show of mana.

I crouched beside the vacated spot, Appraising the spell residue. My heart was beating rapidly from the power and perfection I had just witnessed, but I had enough sense of mind to cast, "[Scribe]," committing as much as I could to memory. Then I looked up and around, finally noticing the curious lack of activity among the enormous crowd of onlookers. In fact, the atmosphere was decidedly tense, even spooked; I supposed the close call followed by rapid rescue had left people reeling and resembling trauma victims.

But for once I wasn't affected by the general mood. I was too filled with my own bubbling feelings of well-being, wonder, and appreciation. Besides, considering the unearthed homes visible around me, the Executive Scholar must have dug up the entire village and who knew how many people, all in the time I was taking a bath. Beaming, I said, "She was really nice, wasn't she?"

The sudden spike of emotions startled me, a confusing conflagration like from a kicked beehive. Staring around, I saw a sea of faces staring back, including to my surprise the distant Mercenaries, who in lieu of their previous aggressive posturing were huddled together with subdued auras.

Then the Veteran began to laugh. Deep, hacking guffaws that rang off the rooftops, shattering the silence. Strangely, this unprovoked fit drew some looks but not real surprise.

I turned back to my friends, whose emotions were easiest to identify, if still incomprehensible: stark incredulity, resigned exasperation, and a sort of despairing hilarity. "Um," I said, blinking. "Was it something I said?"