Clare noticed something was wrong the very moment she left the carriage upon arriving to the dungeon. But she couldn’t quite tell what.

  After some persuasion, as the group refused to not have them accompany them, not because they were suspicious of her, of course, but because they insisted she would need protection, and at the same time they couldn’t afford not to have as many hands underground with them just in case; she was allowed to just stay in the first chamber and set up the camp there. And, she wanted to see if that sensation was just her imagination.

  Well, actually, calling it a chamber would have given too much credit. The entrance to the dungeon was merely two pillar-shaped rocks, both engraved with ancient runes that everyone knew were warnings. Past that, an staircase of rock-carved steps led to a cave just under a cliff. That was the first chamber. Past there, a carved gate, full with columns and a decorated pediment in the style of the usual style of the Early Dark Ages, led to another staircase, down to the bowels of the mountain. Upon arriving there, Clare had found it significantly less menacing-looking than what its name made it look like. The only notable thing was that the place was likely rather old.

  It took Clare about an hour to set up the camp, and after calling down and hearing no response, she stayed up, guarding the place. There was nothing amiss, at least nothing that she could notice, even if she still had the feeling some times.

  Near dawn, when Clare was trying to push out of her mind the idea that maybe they had died, Otto got through the doorway, followed by Hil, and just about everyone else. Two of them now had some bandages on, however.

  “So, you brought the thing, right?” Clare asked, sounding a bit exasperated, “Not that I doubt the group of experienced adventurers that are allegedly protect me while I conduct my own mission or anything, but it wouldn’t be very practical if you had to go down again.”

  Otto’s lips formed a tired smile as he produced a small red-colored chest. “Here it is. I know we’ve taken some time, but you wouldn’t believe the kind of things that we’ve seen down there.”

  Clare arched an eyebrow and one of the group whose name, should she know it, she didn’t remember, blurted it out. “Corpser Scorpions, ma’am. Hundreds of them.”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” Retorted Otto, honestly dismissive. “A couple dozen, at most.”

  Adult Corpser Scorpions were the size of cats, frighteningly fast and pretty much never attacked alone. In Clare’s limited experience, if they faced more than two at any given time, being mostly uninjured was quite impressive. Specially since their venom can be nasty depending on the condition of the victim.

  “Quite impressive, for a band of brutes.”

  Otto and much of the group turned to glare at Clare for just a fraction of a second before realizing that the voice of the woman who had just insulted them wasn’t hers. Or Hil for that matter. They were not alone.

  Clare turned around towards the outside of the cave; it was too dark to see anything beyond the light of the fires in the camp’s lanterns.

  A shadow walked towards them, they were wearing a long black cloak, non-distinct black clothes under it and a hood covering their face, which they couldn’t see. And it wasn’t that they could only see the chin or anything like that, there was a pitch black void where it would be.

  She blinked, thrice, focusing, and moved her eyes a bit. Every time the interior of the hood was in her gaze, there was a an electrical taste in her mouth, and her bones felt cool. It was the effect of magic, one that was blocking sight to protect that person’s identity.

  “Otto. Mage.” Clare whispered, taking guarded steps back to stand with the group, just in case. The team’s leader nodded, she heard it, confirming her suspicion. She looked at the mage in front of them, looking for the presence of gloves, or a pouch, or some kind of backpack in which to store spellpaper, but the cloak was in the way, and it was too dark to use her own tricks and see under it.

  “Well, of course it is impressive, that’s what we’re paid for, brutes or not.” Otto said, calm. “Now, ma’am, if you have come because you’re lost in the mountains and want a safe place, with a fire, to spend the night, you’re most welcome to stay if you apologize for your rudeness.”

  No sound came out for a moment.

  “That’s ‘mister’, sir.”

  Otto staggered, and arched an eyebrow. “Mister?”

  “Yes, Otto Danlavius, formerly of the Danlavius Company, now with your own, which wouldn’t you know, being in another country has let you keep the same name.” The cloaked mage answered, their voice high and merry. “Not ‘Ma’am’, not ‘Miss’, I am a ‘Mister’, and you may also call me a ‘Sir.’”

  Otto arched an eyebrow, not even questioning why this mage knew him, that, was a woman’s voice, and a young one at that. Then he snorted. “Very well, sir. I guess that’s on me for assuming, after which we could say that we’re even. Our fire is still open, if you are no longer offended.”

  “I am not offended and that is a perfectly kind offer, thank you. However, I must be in the capital soon, ideally by noon tomorrow, and it is close to dawn.” The mage chuckled, it was a sound that in any other situation would likely cause others to do the same, but not there. And specially not after they opened their cloak and extended a gloved hand towards the group. Arriving to the capital in that short time was insane, they were far from the closest train station, and the closest airship port was in Hemblem. “The chest, please. And don’t try anything, I know it is small, about the size of a shoe box, and bright crimson. It is also made of ceramic, and was in the third floor of this dungeon, hidden behind an open coffin on the right side of one of the halls of the soldiers.”

  Otto and Clare blinked, in silence. She spoke first, “Who sends you?”

  “Your same employer, Mr Yadesh. I am to fetch the chest and bring it to him.” They answered. “Did he not specify that in his message?”

  Clare’s mind raced. On one side, sending a third party to bring him something his employees have wouldn’t be out of character for him, it has happened a couple of times before. But on the other, this seemed excessively convoluted, and she knew Otto had realized that this very much seemed like a trap.

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  “He did not. And as such, we have to ask you for some proof of identity.” Otto said, rising his chin, inquisitive.

  The mage tilted their head slightly to a side. “We’re really doing this, then. Shame, letting you live might have been more fun.”

  Before Otto could react, they rose their gloved hand, the index finger extended towards them, the thumb to a side, and then the thumb curved.

  A ball of fire the size of Clare’s head appeared in the air, sucking up flames from both the fire on the camp and its lamps, and then it was thrown at high speed towards Otto, who nevertheless managed to duck. It went straight down the dungeon’s entrance and staircase.

  Otto opened back his own cloak, revealing both of his gloved hands, and extended one towards the mage, three fingers pointing at them. The first curved inwards and a bolt of lightning flew towards them, but it didn’t hit them. Still, it was enough for Otto to rush several steps forward, curving another finger, unleashing another bolt that still didn’t hit. Of course, Otto wasn’t so stupid, or berserker-brained to not have realized that they had some kind of shield spell; the objective wasn’t so much strike them down right then, but buy time.

  Another of his team, Marcus, had his gloves on and run on Otto’s left, clasping his hands together and then hitting the floor with his palms. Otto jumped as the shockwave rattled the floor, Marcus’ spell making him jump higher, ready to strike the mage down. But one blink later they were not there. Otto fell fist first on the floor, leaving a small crater. He looked around, and didn’t have the time to scream after realizing that the cloaked bastard was right behind Marcus.

  “This is how you fight? How awfully disappointing, but well, that’s also on me for assuming, I guess.” They said, rapidly grabbing one of Marcus’ arms and twisting it back over his head.

  Clare heard the sickening crunch of his bones breaking. She knew that Otto had another charge, but he wasn’t going to unleash it just yet, being painfully aware that it likely had no effect at all against that piece of shit. Clare eyed a couple of small boxes that were a few paces away. One of them had Otto’s spare gloves inside, and those had a fire manipulation spell connected to them. With some incredible luck, of the kind that only happens in novels, she could do a fireball. Her mind was racing, but doing that made sense; if the mage’s shield was a spell, which was most likely, it was most probably adjusted so it let fire spells pass, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to use theirs in a practical fashion.

  But just as she turned towards it, the cloaked mage pointed at them with their other glove, and curved their thumb. The boxes went up in flames. The mage turned to Otto, who was pointing straight at their head. “Your charge is a clever one, isn’t she? Of course, not too much, since it isn’t hard to figure out that you had some kind of secret weapon stashed there, but she does think quickly. I like that.”

  “You’re out of spell charges now, and shield or not, we can just use normal weapons now on you. So, if you talk, we’ll spare your life” Otto said, triumphant.

  “Oh, no. Actually, I just broke that man’s arm in several different places without the use of any magic whatsoever. Some sharpened metal isn’t going to do much to me.”

  They didn’t seem to have noticed Hil right behind them, charging at them with her sword.

  Key word being, ‘seem”.

  They rose their fist and it impacted straight on her face, effortlessly, it wasn’t even a punch. Hill fell back to the floor.

  Otto was trying to contain his anger during the fight, but at that point, having this smug bastard hit his niece was too much. He screamed and threw punches at them, then kicks, then both, as the mage kept dodging them.

  They were giggling like a girl talking about her first boyfriend. Otto thought this thing may have been insane, or far, far more of a berserker than he was at least; he had only seem one other person in his whole life take this much joy from battle, and it terrified him. The cloaked mage had to die or else… or else… Otto didn’t know what, but their survival was bound to it.

  He gritted his teeth, glancing towards Clare, who fortunately hadn’t been paralyzed in shock by having the crates burning next to her. No, she picked up a sword and was in position, if a bit clumsily, to attack on the mage when they all collectively saw an opportunity. He glanced down towards the box on his other hand, gripping it for dear life. He was breathing hard, his brain working at such speed that he was more exhausted mentally than physically at that point. He looked at Hil, who was slowly getting up and picking up her own sword.

  He opened his mouth to shout at her to stop, but it was too late.

  The mage kicked towards his back, hitting her straight in the stomach. She gasped, saliva pushed out of her mouth from the kick. And then was sent flying, almost hitting a wall.

  Otto’s mind was about to snap, but then they pointed out their hand, index finger towards his face, thumb to a side, straight at his head.

  Did they have another charge already? Had the recharging time already ended? How was that mage casting the needed spell while moving like that and at the same time keeping up a shield?

  “Say…” The mage began, an infuriating mocking tone in their voice “Are you familiarized with some of the new technologies beyond the Golden Walls?”

  Otto staggered, what in all Seven Punishments were they talking about? “No.” He admitted, realizing that the mage wasn’t intending to attack him immediately, so he could take a few seconds to regain his breath.

  “It’s quite interesting, so forgive me for stopping a fight that I’m sure you all are enjoying.” No one could see their face, but they were all sure that had been said with a horrible grin in their face. “As you are all probably familiar with, they have a plant called Firebloom, which glows at night. You may have seen it in the homes of the very rich if you’ve been in those, or maybe some government buildings. It doesn’t grow in this country’s climate without a lot of care. But it glows in the dark, and it is gorgeous.”

  Otto nodded. He had seen the plant in the offices of Mr Yadesh the last time he went there. “What of it?”

  “If the petals of its flower are cleaned and boiled, it can make a substance that can glow for a few days. And, if during that time you leave it dry under the sun, boil it again, and mix it with slowgold crystals, it leaves you a powder with a fascinating characteristic.”

  “It explodes.” Clare muttered, although both Otto and the mage heard it.

  “Full points for your charge, as I said earlier, she’s smart.” The mage chuckled. “Now, what do you think those northern idiots use the powder for?”

  There was silence.

  “Entertainment. Mere, banal, entertainment. They put it inside kites with a programmed spellpaper inside and some colorants and make it explode.” The mage said, disdainfully. “Sure, the result can be quite beautiful, but at the end of the day, it feels like a waste of the powder. Instead, some other countries on its sphere have been working to create weapons out of it. One of them is the most wonderful I’ve ever seen.”

  Otto stared at the void inside the mage’s cloak, trying to discern what was coming. And at that moment, the mage pointed their index again towards Otto, first at his head, and then towards the hand he was carrying the box in.

  “And it also makes a most wonderful sound. Would you like to know how it is?”

  Otto opened his mouth to say no, but again, it was too late.

  “Bang!”

  The sound that came out of Otto’s open mouth instead was a scream as his wrist exploded with blood. The box hit the floor.