The two adventurers look about to say something, but the knight’s menacing aura overwhelms them, and in the end, they stay quiet. Finally, with frustrated clicks of their tongues, they shove the gear off the table and back into their bag. “Very good,” the knight says, like a master acknowledging the work of his servants. The men slink away, their steps sullen, the young woman vacantly watching them go with her sightless eyes.

You have, it would appear, been rescued. You express your thanks, but the knight shakes his head. “I admire your passion, but not your methods. The gulf in strength between those who have braved the dungeon and those who haven’t is simply too great.”

You yourself have no choice but to acknowledge this. You had hoped to resolve things peacefully but quickly found yourself in over your head and had nearly had to draw your sword. Those men knew how to handle themselves. You aren’t confident things would have ended well for you if you really had drawn. Your inexperience is what got you into that mess. You thought you could control the situation. But this only makes you realize how far you are from being able to dictate the course of events.

The knight says “Don’t worry about it” and smiles, recognizing that your actions were honorable. “But don’t let your guard down, either,” he adds. “Those men were a party of six yesterday.” You cock your head at this, and the diamond knight continues as if it was of scant consequence. “Tonight, they’re two. The other four lost their souls.”

Consumed by the Death in the dungeon.

Someone snickers softly. Amid the burble of the tavern, the sound is like a bubble rising on a river and bursting. You understand now. Perhaps the men had meant to go back home. That was why they were so scared, so overawed. They didn’t want to admit that their spirits had been broken.

“Take care, good sir,” the knight says, slapping you on the shoulder, and then his eyes open a little wider, and he smiles. “That’s a fine saber you have there.”

At the far table, the diamond knight’s friends say something mocking about his actions. He shoots something back, then turns slowly on his heel and returns to his place. At long last, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding in and relax your grip on your sword.

What a scene!

You discover your palms are slick with sweat, and your heart is racing from nervousness and excitement.

And you haven’t even been down in the dungeon yet.

“Gosh, here we were gonna come and help, but I guess you didn’t need us.” Surprised by the voice behind you, you let out a great sigh. Apparently, you didn’t even notice Half-Elf Scout and your cousin coming up to you.

“That was a knight’s knight, huh? It would sure be encouraging to have someone like him around,” your cousin says.

“Eh, kinda feel like he stole our boy’s thunder, though. So?” Half-Elf Scout asks, and you nod.

“Ah, ahem…er…,” the young woman stammers in bewilderment.

The first thing that’s needed is a proper conversation with this girl.

You are an adventurer.

You heard the rumors about the infamous Dungeon of the Dead and came to the fortress city in hopes of delving to its lowest level. That’s all there is to your story thus far, so you recite your simple explanation with assurance.

Your cousin, after your rather brief tale, turns a smile on the young woman across from you and says, “See?” Almost a whisper. “He’d lose his own head if it wasn’t stuck on his neck. I had to come with him because I was afraid he’d never make it on his own.”

Well, who cares what your second cousin thinks? You shake your head gently. Much as you hate to admit it, she has learned a lot about magic—but who goes on an adventure in heels?

You ignore your second cousin—puffing out her cheeks and insisting that her shoes are perfectly cute—and turn to your scout.

“Ah. Me, I plan t’smoke out every secret in that dungeon and make my name known across the Four-Cornered World,” Half-Elf Scout says, a motivation more redolent of human than elf ancestry. He smacks himself on his chest, which he puffs out proudly. “That’s why the cap’s passion for testing himself against the dungeon connected with me, and I decided to go along with him.”

“I know it must’ve been rough for you,” your cousin says with a grin, “stuck up in that tree after that wizard you pranked cast a bug-attraction spell on you.”

“A-hem,” Half-Elf Scout says, mustering a dry laugh, and the young woman across from you visibly relaxes, albeit only a little.

“For me…” Her voice when she opens her mouth sounds so fragile. “I, too, once intended as much.”

“Intended what?”

“The dungeon… To do—something about it.”

History shows that peace inevitably ends; since the Age of the Gods, this has ever been the way of the Four-Cornered World. The shadows of the Dark Gods move behind the scenes; illness spreads. The world grows ever more disordered, and people’s hearts become ever more a wilderness. And then—the Death. Yes, that is the true problem.

Those who succumb to the plague arise once more in unlife to attack the living. Those living become one of the dead, and they, too, rise to consume other people, and the dead increase in number once more: Catastrophe grows and spreads.

If these were simply undead, perhaps a great muster of monks or clerics could have defended against them somehow. But it was found that prayer for the repose of their souls had no effect. It was not so simple. These were no mere wandering spirits.

The whirlwind of Chaos continued to spread. The forces of Order were swallowed up, and it seemed only a matter of time before all returned to darkness.

Find the source of this Death and destroy it: the king’s admonition—was it too late or just in time? It was not long after that some adventurers did in fact discover the Dungeon of the Dead.

It is said monsters emerge endlessly from the dungeon depths.

It is said in the dungeon there, likewise, await endless riches.

It is said in the dungeon’s deepest reaches resides a Demon Lord.

The king of the land immediately dispatched an army, but every man was swallowed by the labyrinth, and none came home. The military was never made to brave the traps and fearsome dangers of the dungeon. Their purpose is to stand ready to repel the savages from the north who range across the mountains, the barbarians from the southern reaches, and every neighboring country that constantly looks for an opportune moment to strike. They might even meet a great army of Chaos in the field—but dungeons? Those are for adventurers.

And thus the fortress city arose. A home base built hard on the mouth of the dungeon to serve those adventurers who ventured within. Adventurers who sought fame, fortune, and the head of the Demon Lord…

“Kill a few monsters, and you can earn more in a day than you’d see in a lifetime in your backwater village!”

“True, but you never know when you’re going to die down there.”

“Then what say we forget about the Demon Lord and just make our money farming those monsters?”

There is no sign as yet that the Dungeon of the Dead will be destroyed anytime soon.

You lay all this out, and the young woman replies “That’s right” softly and nods. “And I thought, rather than spend my life shut away in the temple…I wanted to at least try to do something to better this world…”

So she had come to the fortress city in the hope of finding companions and delving the dungeon. A splendid resolve. You tell her so earnestly. It’s not something that’s so simple to do. As a matter of fact, you yourself have not come here with any lofty ambitions of saving the world, so you are not one to judge. It is up to each person to decide how they will live and how they will die. It is not your place to debate the merits of their choices.

To still be able to act with others in mind when all that is the case—that is truly admirable.

But now you have a question. Surely, she need not sit here, identifying items, when she could be down in the dungeon.

The young woman tenses when you mention this, her breathing shallow. “I’m very sorry,” she says. She pours water from a canteen into her mug, some of it spilling onto the table, and then drinks. “I… I…” Then she takes several long, deep breaths and finally manages to get out the words. “I once—before I came to the fortress city, before I entered the temple—went on an adventure.”

You’re about to ask what that has to do with anything when a sharp pain runs through your side. Your cousin, never letting her smile slip, has jabbed you with her elbow. “Let me guess,” she says, trying to help the hesitant young woman. “Your companions…?”

Yes. The young woman nods, her slim shoulders trembling as she looks at the table. “They said someone who was once defeated by goblins… That the dungeon would be too dangerous for the likes of her… And so they left me behind.” She smiles, albeit fleetingly.

Goblins. Everyone knows they are some of the weakest creatures in the Four-Cornered World, hardly worth bothering with. They attack villages, destroy crop fields, abduct women, rape, and gorge themselves, and they are no smarter than nasty children.

No big deal.

In the Dungeon of the Dead, there is an endless array of creatures far more threatening than goblins. If you have a sword in your hand and a wish to save the world in your heart, goblins hardly merit a thought.

Of course, just moments ago, you were questioning whether you could even deal with two adventurers who had been down in the depths…

“On that…first adventure,” the young woman says, “I made…a mistake. That’s why I retired to the temple…”

Before you can say anything, your cousin has poked you in the ribs again. You glance at her with a That hurt, but your second cousin all but ignores you. You clear your throat and begin to open your mouth again. What need is there for her to stay here and be treated like a common item wrangler or to tell her story to anyone else? You know it sounds harsh to say, but surely she has no reason to remain here in the fortress city, this place of bitter memories.

“Well, I…” For a moment, she trails off, embarrassed. But then she squeezes out the words: “I want to bring peace to the world. Even if I can’t adventure myself, I thought if I could do anything at all to contribute to the end of that dungeon…”

So anything that might help save the world, you think.