The request surprised Myles as much as he had been when he examined it the first time, but it really shouldn’t have. Trosana saw everything, and according to her, even if the streams were edited, her position as his sponsor made her privy to everything. From the way she was acting, she knew something he didn’t, and despite everything that had happened since he picked it up, the information was still as fresh in his mind as it had been the day he first found the strange tome in his inventory.

Taking it out without another word, he reviewed the silvery tome as he read the description again rather than the strange, scratched language of Elder Kessivan.

The Founding of the Kessivan Grand Dungeon by Amber R. Soulborn

Value: Priceless

Book (Original, Unique)

Description: A book bound in the celestial leather of a greater beast.

Detail: A silver-tinged book telling the tale of a bygone age. This is the original, unedited account of Amber R. Soulborn, one of the great powers involved with the formation and creation of the Grand Dungeons.

Language: Elder Kessivan (Silent Forest Variant - Age One)

Looking at it again, he grimaced.

The book was something he knew would get him in trouble at some point, but he didn’t think that it would be this soon. If Trosana wanted to see it off the record, how much danger was he in?

“A lot… Well, a lot depends on what’s in it. I mean the Overseer doesn’t assign loot like that for no reason. It should be noted that I’d never seen it before you showed it off.”

Thanks, Silpha, Myles thought as sarcastically as possible. He’d almost forgotten how easy it was for the dungeon core to observe everything.

“Oh, you’re welcomed,” Silpha chimed, either ignoring or ignorant to his intent. “I just like making sure I’m involved in what’s going on. I’m as curious as you are. I wouldn’t mind learning more.”

Even with their modified connection, Myles could confirm that much. Silpha had her interests, and many of them seemed to center on the Overseer, which could have a mention in the leather-bound tome. As it was, it wasn’t like either of them could read it.

But in that same thought…

“Can you read it?” he asked, not making a motion to hand the tome over yet.

“Of course not,” she answered, dashing his hopes like a dropped tray of fresh custards. Even so, she kept smiling as she took in his down-turned expression. “Honestly, I doubt anyone can outside the clans of that era. Of course, that’s why we have little beauties like this.”

From her pocket, Trosana produced a small rat’s nest of crystal, metal, and what looked like claws.

The closer Trosana seemed to get to finishing its setup, the more Myles was able to make out its general appearance. The item looked like a silver’s sized crystal attached to a curved lens. That bit was then attached to a pane of blue, glowing glass. The entire thing sat on four taloned claws tipped with some sort of red felt.

Was it a magical item? Probably. The glow alone should have told him that much, but outside of the grand dungeon, Myles didn’t have much experience with magical tools that weren’t baking related, so he’d never seen anything like it.

Unlike the before time, Myles’s Skills had, and he couldn’t stop the grin from growing on his face as he read the item’s description.

Translation Scrib

Value: 10s

Trinket - Scribe Tool

Description: A three-part, enchanted apparatus including a translation matrix, a visualization slate, and a projection device.

Detail: Commonly used to translate works of importance from one language to another, the translation scrib is a fairly essential piece of equipment in the day-to-day functions of the world at large. Using a simple transmorphic cipher enchantment for decryption, the scrib can translate nearly any text one scroll or page at a time. However, the more obscure or defunct the language, the more of its charge is used in translation. This cost is reduced the more the language is translated. Newly discovered languages will be saved to the network once the matrix reconnects to the nexus, making translation easier for others.

Under normal circumstances, one percent of a charge equates to one handwritten page of writing.

Current Charge: 100%

Of course, the journalist would come prepared.

Silpha had other thoughts.

“I want one. Tell her to bring me one. I need something like this.”

He didn’t have a chance to reply as his Korgan supporter began speaking again.

“Not gonna lie, Myles,” Trosana began. “Books from this era are rare for a reason, especially anything concerning the formation of the grand dungeons. We could both be getting ourselves in trouble here, but the value of it is more than worth the risk if your Skills are accurate.”

“They are.”

Myles had figured as much, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Why are they rare?”

Trosana shrugged. “State secrets, unique enchantment methods, Skill training methods, monster research, the list goes on, but it could be any number of reasons. I do know that there was a rumor of a cult uprising that almost destroyed the grand dungeons before the first run. That’s hearsay though. Can’t get anything solid, but it all points to the fact that someone doesn’t think history needs to be preserved, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m getting off track.”

Myles nodded, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking.

Someone or something.

He thought about calling Ashra in as he fingered the leather, but with the way she treated the dungeon cores, he doubted it would go well to learn how they were created or how her home was born. If how she’d treated him the night he socketed the dungeon core was any indication, if it mattered, he’d tell her once they learned everything. There wasn’t a point in worrying her if there wasn’t anything to worry about.

Lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed Trosana’s hand extended, waiting for the tome.

“If you don’t want to hand it over, just set it on the table open. I’ll let the tool do the rest, and we can decide what to do from there.”

Myles considered it for a moment and opened the book between them, setting it down open to the first page of text a blank page in. It had the least amount of scratched language with lines going every which way from the top right of the page to the bottom left. Randomly, there would be lines under symbols or next to them. It still looked as alien as it had the first time he’d seen it.

Trosana took one look at it, whistled, and smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s scratch.”

She nodded and looked a bit closer before announcing. “It’s a Beastkin language for sure. What area did you say it was from?”

“The Silent Forest Variant,” he repeated.

“Hmm, forest-dwelling… that could be a long list of Beastkin subspecies, so that doesn’t help narrow it down. Almost all of them had claws.”

“So those scratches…”

“Are claw marks, yes,” She explained. “I don’t know much else about the old languages, but every Beastkin species used their unique lot in life in everything, including their writing. Did you know that there are even older stories you hear on occasion about the Kin being born from dungeons?”

“Really?”

She nodded. “It’s an old theory but relates to why Korgan’s manifest such strange Classes. It’s the result of two different kinds of magic interacting in ways they were never meant to. It can’t be proven easily, if at all, but it’s mostly accepted in the research communities even if it isn’t outright announced.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah,” she said, setting the translation scrib down on the first page. “Enough distractions though. Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Opening one of her blue [Journalist] Skill windows, Trosana pressed down on the top of the scrib and watched as it began flickering blue. The Korgan woman tapped her window and the two seemed to flash at the same moment.

“Needed to renew the connection,” she explained as the device began to arrange itself as if standing up.

A few tense moments later, the translation scrib began carefully crawling its way across the page. The small item chimed and sang in its own mechanical way as it moved from one corner to the other, scrawling its way across the page and whirling with life as it moved closer to the halfway point. Myles watched the item with fascination. It may have been a simple thing, but the entire process was something special to him. So engrossed with the small machine, he almost jumped when Trosana began reading the information as it populated on her end.

“This is the personal notes of Amber Remus Soulborn, First [Arcane Mechanist] of Project Guardian, taken per the Grand Dungeon Initiative. As such, I am tasked with taking notes and organizing them in such a way my work will outlast me and serve as a basis to protect the nation I love so deeply. Within this tome will be the notes of my thoughts, and my designs while working with my team and the… ‘others’. Though, I still find it odd to be working with these… ‘others’ so closely when it could so clearly be done by their hand easier.”

“Others?”

Trosana shrugged. “Could be anything. The scrib didn’t recognize it as a word and made an educated substitution.”

“That doesn’t help!”

“Ah.”

“Together, we’ve designed quite a few unique parameters and as long as all sides keep their word, we will endure. The contents within will begin with the template floor created by ‘other’s’ design and move… forward based on the most common decisions made and populations within… the…” Trosana tapped the screen a few times. “Come on… not now…”

“And?”

“Sket.”

“What?”

Trosana screamed. “Sket!”

“What!”

Trosana didn’t have a chance to answer before a soft metallic clink hit the floor and her screen vanished. The smell of ionized air rose as if lightning had struck the floor nearby. The Korgan woman sighed, prodding the thing with her foot. “Charge is dead already. Wasn’t even half a page…”

Myles stared at the book in disbelief. What was Project Guardian? Were the old stories about the Starfallen true? Why was this person involved? Who even was she?

Trosana looked at it as well and made no move to pick up the item smoking quietly on the floor next to the table. “More questions than answers,” she said simply. “I’ll do some research when I get out and fill you in later, but for now, I’d suggest you keep that to yourself.”

As if prompted by her words, the scrib and matrix vanished as if they’d been painted and washed away in a single motion. Myles was about to ask if it always did that before Silpha piped up proudly.

“Oh, we will keep it to ourselves. I have an idea.”

For a moment, Myles had almost forgotten about Silpha’s expansive abilities. Thankfully, she hadn’t.

I can’t wait.

“Well, doesn’t look like we have a choice. Sket, there goes my deposit…”

Myles nodded, not that Trosana understood who it really was for, and he didn’t even know enough about what was in it to make an informed decision about whether it would hurt them or not. It would probably hurt more than help before that point anyway. At least until Silpha was done with whatever her newest idea was.

With a sigh, Trosana made a gesture at where the scrib had been before turning to Myles. “We’ve got a few things left for today, so let’s finish up, shall we?”

He shrugged. “More questions?”

“Only a few,” she smiled, “Then comes the part I know you’ve been waiting on.”

“Loot boxes?”

“Loot boxes.”

***

True to her word, the group question session was relativity short, outside of the question for the team about Kendra’s change in leadership and their feelings about the defeat of Shardking, there wasn’t anything new to discuss. He didn’t even balk when Trosana asked him about the kiss or his team’s reaction to catching them in the act. It seemed that being a leader and living through the raid had made him immune to everything she could throw at him.

“So, Myles, what are you going to do with those rings?” Trosana asked with a grin that wouldn’t have been out of place on a looming hydra.

Well, almost everything…

“Rings?”

“Those wedding rings. Are you going to keep them for later or sell them?”

It was clear what she was going for as her brow raised and wiggled, but he wasn’t going to be goaded that easily. “Keep them of course. The bonuses are really useful.”

“Really?” Trosana pressed.

“Really, but I don’t know why we’d need to see the other’s status.”

Kendra laughed as Trosana deflated. “That wasn’t what I meant, Myles.”

“I know,” he grinned.

“Like I want to be married in a run,” Kendra joked. “I don’t even know if we’ll last the week, let alone forever.”

“My bet is three months,” Tail said quietly.

Lyna quickly became a picture of indignation.

“I said three months!”

“We can both be right,” Tail reminded her.

Kendra gave them all a hard stare. “Whatever happens, happens and we’ll just have to deal with it.”

Myles, wisely, said nothing.

The answer seemed to round out the last of the questions for the team before Trosana began to pull small, crystal cubes from her inventory space and hand them one at a time to each of the group members as she read off the names engraved on each. “Myles, the blue one is yours. No, this blue one. Lyna, that’s yours. Kendra, yours is the pink one, don’t blame me. I didn’t pick the color, the sponsors did. Will, here’s yours. I assume you all know how storage cubes work?”

“Sket,” Kendra cursed. “We don’t get to keep the extra storage?”

Trosana shrugged. “Nope. They didn’t pay for reusable storage. The cubes are organized into subsections though, so you’ll see what each person sent. It’ll also be added as a list to your inventory I’m told. The Times’s gift is first followed by whoever else in the order of purchase. I want you to pick your favorite item from each listing and thank the sponsor. They have the rights to use your comment in advertising that particular product, so some only sent one. Don’t worry too much, the only one who got one they have to be embarrassed about is Myles.”

“What?”

“You’ll see,” Trosana smiled.

Tapping the surface of the cube, Myles was met with a message similar to the kinds he got for being a leader.

You are about to open Storage Cube: Myles Chase. If you are not Myles Chase, the item will be destroyed, and the contents returned to their tagged individuals. Are you sure you wish to open Storage Cube: Myles Chase?

Y/N

Myles mentally confirmed the message and was suddenly swamped with looting notifications.

Storage Cube: Myles Chase has been looted.

Loot Drops have been divided into subsections for easy identification:

Drop from The Runner Times

One Cooking Spice Kit (Masterwork) One Mineral Sampling Kit (Unique) One Scroll of Protection (Masterwork) One Journal

Drop from Maximus Chase

Thirty-nine Cinnamon Rolls One Sealed Parchment One Photograph

Drop from High Lord Jerona Ladona of the Battle League Chronicles

One Monster Enhancement Skill Stone One Monster Information Recorder - Single-Use One Magazine Subscription Delivery Upgrade - Battle League Chronicle Two Sealed Parchments

Drop from Darius Whitehorn - Dungeon Delver’s Union

Five Monster Information Recorder - Single-Use One Sealed Parchment

Drop from The Runner Fan Collective

Four Sealed Parchment Letters Two Photographic Recording Stones One Audio Recording Stone

Loot From PlayDungeon Publishing

One Magazine Subscription Delivery Upgrade - PlayDungeon One Sealed Parchment One Emberstone

Myles swallowed reading the information, the others seemed to be in just as much shock as he was. At least, most of them were. Trosana was right though, he definitely had one to be embarrassed about.

Pantheon above, what did I do to deserve this?

“Deserve what, Myles?”

You don’t want to know, Ashra.

“We do want to know!”

Trust me, you don’t.

Trosana didn’t have a chance to press him on that last package though, as Kendra took center stage.

“Trosana,” Kendra said softly as she stared off into space at the listings.

“Is something wrong?”

“I think I’m going to love having you as my sponsor.”

The Korgan grinned. “I figured you’d like that.”

“What?” Will asked, still looking over his list from the way he starred.

“You don’t wanna know.” The grin on her face told the group just how right she must have been. “I’ve wanted one of these for a long time. I’ll do mine last though.”

“What?” Will repeated, his attention now centered on the woman.

“Who gave it to you?” Myles asked.

Kendra just grinned and said nothing else.

For his part, Myles took the first sealed parchment his father sent out of his inventory and looked at the seal. The familiar star and loaf of the Rising Star Bakery sitting there stamped in the silvery blue wax was enough to tug at his heart. Memories of taking them to the post office or around town brought a smile to his face, and with a snap, he broke the seal and opened the letter.

Myles,

By the Pantheon above, I’m sorry I ever thought you couldn’t do it. I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. I can’t believe what I’ve been seeing, but I guess that I didn’t really want to. It’s hard, Myles. You know? I wanted to see you take over the family business, I wanted to see you take my place, but your grandfather was right, you were too big for that even before you met her and came up with your crazy plan.

I’ve never been so wrong, Myles.

Seeing you make things work and seeing you bring your team back from the brink was nothing short of amazing. I nearly had heart attacks a dozen times that night, but you never faltered. You ran that team like you ran the kitchen and did your family proud.

I’m so, so proud of you, Myles.

I can’t say it enough, and there isn’t enough paper in the world for me to say that. I’m sure you don’t want to hear me repeat what you’ve been through. You want to hear about home.

The homefront is good.

The Bakery hasn’t stopped since you were featured, and I haven’t had to hire help like this since I first became a [Royal Baker]. The Royal family even stopped in! Can you believe that? They wanted to check in on me. You should have something coming from them, I think.

Anyway, I’m running out of room, and I wanted to send you something special. After some testing, I came up with a recipe your favorite monster and you will both enjoy. Below, you’ll find the recipe for something special.

I love you, Myles

Dad

Royal Baker’s Cornbread

Regional Dish - Hazen

Best cooked for 9 Servings

Ingredients Needed - Half cup butter, half cup white sugar, two large eggs, one cup buttermilk, a half teaspoon baking soda, one cup cornmeal, one cup flour, one fourth teaspoon salt.

Follow these directions, Myles:

First, preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit after you’ve greased an 8-inch square pan give or take. Then, mix the buttermilk and baking soda in a bowl.

When you finish that, you need to melt butter in a large pan over medium heat. When you have it melted, remove it from the heat and stir in sugar while it’s still hot. Once it’s dissolved, whisk in the eggs. Then, take a whisk and whisk the buttermilk mixture into the skillet.

Stir in the cornmeal, flour, and salt until everything is well-blended. Some lumps are okay. Then, pour the batter into the buttered pan.

Then there’s the easy part. Put it in the oven for about thirty minutes, maybe forty depending on how a magical oven works. Like with any kind of cake, make sure the knife comes out clean.

PS: Share my gift with everyone you can. I know how much you love them.

Myles read the letter again and again before he realized he was crying.

“Myles?” Kendra asked, looking him over. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Just didn’t realize how much I missed home.”

She nodded. “So… everything’s okay?”

“Yeah. Dad knows how to get to me.”

“They always do.”

Will shifted his gaze just enough for Myles to notice. He didn’t need to be told to ask. “You get something from home too?”

She gave him a smirk, and he realized too late what he’d done. “Nothing worth writing home about.”

Myles groaned while Lyna cheered merrily about the terrible joke.

Looking from one member to another, Myles smiled and took out the picture. It was one of his favorites. Kendra still looked over his shoulder, so he explained.

“The big one’s my dad,” he joked at the old family photo. “That’s my mom...”

“And that’s little Myles, aww.” Kendra cooed as Myles stood smiling between his parents, covered in flour, frosting, and the cherry his mother had put to complete the image. Her face was still red in the picture, doing her best not to laugh as one of their assistants used a photographic crystal to save the moment in time.

He put it away before he started crying again and smiled, looking at Trosana. “I know who I’m going to be doing my ad for.”

“Never had a doubt. Let me set up for it.”