In a secluded area of the second floor of the Labyrinth, not far from the palisaded walls of Abyssia, Katya was locked in battle with a pack of baptet hounds. 

Val watched her from a short distance away, a hammer in each hand, and waited as she made short work of the slavering animals. Again, he was struck by the graceful way she moved, swinging her enormous blade back and forth as if it weighed nothing, cutting down the hounds one after another.

Katya spun on her right foot, slashing the blade across her body and cleaving two baptet hounds from the air, sending them tumbling along the ground as they shattered into motes of red light. The last of the black and red hounds lunged towards her and she turned and ran, heading towards Val.

“You ready?!” she shouted.

“I hope so!” Val yelled back, spreading his feet and tightening his grip on the weapons in his hands.

Katya easily outpaced the animal, tearing past Val, and the baptet hound changed course, charging toward what it perceived as the more immediate threat. Val activated the spellchips embedded in the hafts of the hammers, and the heads shimmered with elemental energy. 

The hound leapt toward Val and he charged forward to meet it, swinging the wind-charged hammer in his right hand in an upward arc that hit the animal square in the chest. He felt his hammer pushed back in the microsecond before the spell discharged and blasted the animal away. The hound tumbled in the air, spinning over on itself before crashing to the ground.

Val pressed his advantage, running toward the hound as it struggled to its feet, but the monster’s injuries were not enough to keep it from being ready for him. He swung the ice-charged hammer he held in his left hand in a wild overhead blow that struck nothing as the baptet hound sprung backwards. He overbalanced and the hammer crashed into the ground, discharging the spell. Instantly, a sharp block of icy spikes froze Val’s arm in place, up to the elbow.

Val pulled against the ice ineffectually, grunting with effort, as the hound barked and growled, circling around him for a clear run at his throat.

“Use the other hammer!” Katya yelled, holding her position but ready to jump in at a moment’s notice.

Val charged the wind hammer again and swung it into the side of the ice formation. The ice exploded, sending Val backwards in a shower of frozen shards, tearing both hammers from his grip and launching them off into the air. The hound leapt backward to avoid the shrapnel, yelping, but recovered quickly, charging towards Val’s prone body.

“Get up, Val!”

Val rolled to his side, pulling another hammer from his belt, and struggled to his feet. The hound was almost on top of him, barely giving him time to activate the poison spell as he swung it in a wild arc that crashed into the wide jaws of the leaping creature, redirecting it just enough that the bite missed his throat by inches. The dog’s body hit his shoulder, spinning him around, but he kept to his feet as the animal crashed to the ground behind him.

The dog rolled over, snarling as the high-level poison spell took hold and, after a few seconds, the shimmering green mist surrounding the hound dissipated into the air as the animal shattered apart. 

Val tried to catch his breath as a selection of items popped into existence and scattered themselves on the ground where the hound had fallen. Rather than the exultation of victory, Val felt only a sense of relief that he had survived. 

“Here.”

Katya was already standing at his side, holding a vial of bright, red healing potion in her outstretched hand. 

“Thanks, Kat.”

Val took the potion, popping the stopper out with his thumb and gulping down the viscous liquid. As always, the taste made him almost gag, but he took great pleasure in the immediate relief he felt as the slow-acting potion took effect, healing his bruised muscles and knitting together the myriad small cuts he received from the ice shards.

“You know it works faster if you channel the bottle,” Katya admonished him.

“Yeah,” Val replied, “But it weirds me out. I’ll drink the drink, thanks.”

Katya rolled her eyes as Val grimaced.

“I did it,” Val said, looking at the teeth, bones and fur the baptet hound had dropped, resting in the grass.

“Yeah, just,” Katya said, though her tone was more gentle than her words, “At your level, second floor baptet hounds shouldn’t be giving you this much trouble. Without the spells in those hammers you wouldn’t even be able to beat one of them.”

She was right. Val had gained another two levels during near-daily sojourns into the first few levels of the labyrinth, which put him square in the level range of a rookie guild-sponsored adventurer, but his stats had barely dragged themselves above where they were when he was first summoned.

The registration for the guild had gone smoothly, for like most bureaucratic challenges it was easily overcome by a swollen purse. The clerks employed by the gilt council couldn’t even feign interest in why a guild that had been closed for generations was being reopened, or why it only had two members, as long as the correct paperwork was filled out and they had a chance to grease their palms on the extortionate founding fees that were levied. The Patricians’ first quarterly allocation of guild marks came through mere days after the moneys were paid, and were more than enough for Val and Katya to make daily ventures into the labyrinth.

“No kidding,” Val said, nodding, “Figure I should probably give them a rest, anyway. Until we get the first payment in on the renovations, there’s no way I can afford to get the spellchips restored.”

The crystal chips in the hammers on his belt were still mostly lit with a gentle internal light, but a number of them had turned black, discharged of their stored spells. Magic users in the city had turned the creation and recharging of spellshipped weapons into an extraordinarily profitable cottage industry but, like the other equipment Val had bought before his ill-fated first expedition into the labyrinth, the prices for high-level spells put the items out of reach of the average adventurer.

Val walked away from Katya, picking up his pack from where it lay, and set to work gathering the items that the hounds had dropped. The group was large, and by the time he was done the pack was more than half full with the low-level spoils.

“How’s the quality?” Katya asked him as he returned, pack on his back. 

“Decent,” Val responded, “Another decent haul.”

“Decent isn’t going to clean the sentient mould out of the basement,” Katya grumbled, “We’re going to need to go deeper.”

Val grimaced. She was, again, correct. He knew that the reason they’d kept to the higher levels was for his sake, to test his skills and build his confidence, but Katya’s immense strength was wasted on these low level creatures. Every day the bill for the ongoing works at the recently-revived Patricians guild hall got longer and, even with Val’s connections with the construction unions and the calling in of every favour he had accrued during his time working on sites across Al’Lachia, they could not keep pace with the costs without taking on higher level targets.

“You’re right,” he offered, “Let’s head back for the day, we can make plans to journey deeper from tomorrow.”

Katya grinned. She’d been hungering for a decent fight, and, even though she hadn’t yet been able to justify another use of it, with Val’s Fastus Patri skill, she was convinced they could take down some very high level targets, even without the assistance of a raiding party.

—

The journey back to the surface, and through the city, was uneventful, and the two adventurers made it back to the guild building in the parish district without any troubles. With a brief stop at Locke’s to hand off their spoils from their expedition, night was just beginning to fall as they reached their destination.

The old building was surrounded by rickety looking wooden scaffolds, construction spilling out into the street where piles of supplies sat on wide pallets and workers packed down for the day. Katya headed inside, while Val stopped to chat with the foreman about how the project was progressing.

Katya made her way to the top floor, moving back and forth across the building to use only the staircases which had been checked and repaired. She reached the door she was looking for, turned the handle and stepped inside. 

Her apartment, the meisters quarters, was one of the few rooms that had been near-fully refurbished, though the attached commode still lacked running water, and she needed to go back to the first floor to use the facilities in the large, communal bathing area. Here was a small indication of the luxury that had once been the purview of the Patricians, among the top performing guilds of its time, though the plush furnishings that scattered the room were a selection of only the most immediately required. She had a bed, a wide sofa, a desk and a few shelves, all purchased on a line of credit that was rapidly dwindling.

Katya only had time to put her sword down and walk halfway to the wide windows that looked down onto the training ground before she was interrupted by a sharp rapping at her door.

Val didn’t wait for a response before entering.

“Hey!” Katya admonished him, “I could have been naked in here!”

“Sorry,” he responded, “But there’s some people here to see you.”

Katya’s half-serious rebuke was completely undercut by the grim look on Val’s face.

“Who is it?” she asked, concerned.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, tilting his head towards her sword, “But I think you’re going to need that.”

—

Val led Katya to the training ground, again criss-crossing the building to make their way down safely, though Val took her on a different, shorter route, using information gleaned from his chat with the foreman.

They entered the training ground through a changing room filled with rotting benches and shattered tiles to find a half dozen serious looking, heavily armed warriors waiting for them in the centre of the courtyard.

Val and Katya walked up to the group, and Katya scanned the new arrivals, recognising every face that glared haughtily back at her.

“Cousins,” She addressed the congregation, before setting her sights on the tall, blonde man in the centre. He was built like a warrior born, in the prime of his mid twenties and resplendent in a full suit of silver armour with a matching set of curved sabres strapped to his waist. 

“Brother,” she half-snarled, “What are you doing here?”

The blonde man smiled genuinely, but with all the mirth of a predator looking at a struggling coney with a broken leg. By way of response, he reached into the pouch on his belt and retrieved a gold coin, then flicked it from his fingers onto the hard-packed dirt between them.

“I challenge,” he answered.

Katya’s eyes narrowed.

“I accept.”