Dungeon Noble - Squire

“Yes, yours is a bloodline Class as well, right?” Jake asked, doing his best to remember what he had been about to talk about.

His headache was fading rapidly, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t distracting.

“That’s right, my family serve The Woven Artificer. We’re somewhat different from the other two families, though. We take more of a supportive route rather than a combative one.”

“So why come to Strovia?” Jake asked curiously. “Surely that is opening you up to conflict?”

“Oh no, I’m a Strovian, born and bred. While we were also hunted when the Triarchy arrived, it was never to the same degree as your family or those serving the Watcher. Still, we have taken great pains to keep our whereabouts a secret.”

“But you’ll freely admit that to someone you barely know?” Jake asked incredulously, thinking of what Felix had told him about the Triarchy and the Seekers.

“You serve The Great Dungeon. We are very much on the same side,” Varin said with a slight shrug. “Besides, our presence is already known. Whoever targeted the Dungeon Nobles and the Inquisitors clearly judged us to be less of a threat. We’ve prepared and taken some precautions, but that’s as much as we can do.”

“I see,” Jake said, not completely sure that he agreed with that logic but fully aware that it wasn’t his decision. “What I actually wanted to discuss, though, was if you’ve ever questioned following your Class?”

Varin blinked in surprise before shaking his head. “Honestly, no, I haven’t. It isn’t the sort of Class that brings fame and makes you a hero in stories, but we work hard, and what we do makes a difference.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds simple.” Jake gave a wry smile as he compared that straightforward answer to his own agonising.

“That’s because it is,” Varin said with a soft chuckle. “Our Classes are around for a reason, and we help keep people safe. There’s something so satisfying in knowing that what you’ve worked on will be used to protect people and fight evil.”

Jake fell silent as he considered Varin’s words. There was something to what he said, yet it wasn’t quite as simple for Jake. The labour he did wasn’t as tangible as making a magical item, but perhaps it was no less important.

Helping Dungeons reach new tiers felt like it was important to society as a whole, not just to Jake and his friends.

Turning his focus inwards, Jake questioned his own motivations, his reasons for doubt.

When he had first Ascended, Jake had dreamed of the power that being a Classer could bring, and while his current path did do just that, it wasn’t quite the same.

His idea of power had always been the ability to do what he wanted, to be the master of his own destiny. Everything that had happened with his Class was exactly the opposite of that.

Jake was being hunted for something he’d had no part in. That was what truly grated on him, and it had made him so angry to begin with.

Since Jake had come to know more about his Patron and everything his Class was about, that anger had faded.

“I wish there was a way to understand my Patron more, to know what I was getting myself into,” Jake said, being careful to make sure they weren’t being overheard. This was exactly the sort of conversation that could cause them all trouble.

“Well, you could always pray to them,” Varin said with a shrug, his eyes not leaving the Dungeon. “The Weaver sometimes grants me insights. That’s how I knew to come here, after all.”

Jake stared at Varin for a long moment before slumping back in his chair and rubbing his face. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“Glad I could help,” Varin said with a soft chuckle. “I’ll leave you to it, but I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”

Jake bid the gaunt crafter goodbye but didn’t head back just yet. Instead, he let his gaze settle on the shifting runes of the Dungeon once more.

Varin was right; there was something relaxing about watching them.

-**-

Jake and his friends regrouped at the Rusty Duck later in the day, some of them having had more success than others.

Rhew, in particular, had a broad smile on her face as she recounted her experiments with manipulating ice and creating it without using her Skill.

Felix seemed reasonably pleased with her progress, which to Jake’s mind, meant that it was pretty damn impressive.

Alan hadn’t quite done as well, but he felt that he was on the right track for infusing his arrows, which was good to hear.

Karl and Nepthys had little to say about their own afternoons, and Jake didn’t particularly want to share his, so they circled the topic of Skills for a time.

Jake had a few Skills and Traits he could pick up, and with the rising cost of his rank ups, he was leaning toward saving up for them before reaching the next rank.

Lesser Endurance was one that Jake had his eye on to buy in the near future. It would depend on what precisely the Trait did, but even if it didn’t end up being a good long-term pick, it would be quite useful for the moment.

Eventually, they drifted off to their rooms, with the plan of another morning of delving, followed by working on the Skills they wanted again in the afternoon.

Usually, Jake would climb into bed and savour his rest, but this time, he sat cross-legged on his bed and considered how to pray to his Patron.

The Triarchy used specific rituals and words with their followers, but that didn’t quite feel right for The Great Dungeon. No, it was more result-oriented in what it did.

Jake wasn’t quite sure where he’d gotten that feeling from, but he decided to go with his gut.

Closing his eyes and reaching out with his mind, Jake muttered a prayer for guidance as he tried to find some link between him and his Patron.

His questing grasp found nothing initially, but Jake frowned and redoubled his efforts, trying to find a link between him and something, anything.

Frustrated, Jake began to withdraw before pausing and turning his focus inwards, to the point within him where the power from the Dungeons fed into.

There was something there, and though Jake instinctively knew it wasn’t his Patron, he could feel gossamer strands of power radiate off of it that he could follow.

The strands went out in countless directions, and though Jake lacked the ability to truly follow them, his attempt garnered the slightest fragment of attention from something vast.

Jake felt cold sweat pour down his face as he made contact with The Great Dungeon. He knew now why he’d failed to find it. He’d been looking for it above and apart from them.

He’d pictured the gods as being distant things, far removed from the world that Jake lived in.

The reality that he was now seeing was that The Great Dungeon was all around them, its essence flowing along the boundary between what was real and what lay beyond.

Jake felt small and insignificant against the scale of what he was beholding. His worries and concerns suddenly felt pointless and paltry in comparison.

Jake wasn’t entirely sure how he’d forged this connection, but something told him that it would fail the moment he stopped holding it together.

With every moment being precious, Jake cast his mind around, seeking some sort of guidance or glimpse of knowledge that could help him.

Instead, Jake found himself focusing on the boundary that he’d noticed before. Beyond the boundary lay a formless wasteland, endless and ever-changing.

It also held unknowable entities in a myriad of forms. There were gigantic ones, large beyond comprehension, who circled reality like hungry sharks, waiting for any sign of weakness to strike.

Those behemoths were kept at bay by the boundary, but Jake could see that there was an endless tide of smaller things trying to wiggle their way through.

The idea of such things managing to breach the boundary filled Jake with disgust and horror in equal measure, and he felt those emotions slip across the thread that had formed between Jake and his Patron.

Approval flowed back in response to Jake’s disgust, but it was distant, directed less at him than at the concept of his growing anger towards those being of nothingness.

A pulse of something flashed across the connection between them, burning it away as the impact broke Jake’s focus on keeping it in place. A spot of burning heat formed where the pulse had struck Jake, and he gasped, his eyes flying open as he was forcefully ejected from his meditative state.

Greetings, Jake Khesh.

A Patron Gift has been directly imprinted on your soul. Please refrain from any strenuous activity while it is merged with the System and your Class.

“What the fuck…” Jake gasped as his heart began to pound, and the sweat that had been pouring from him earlier redoubled as his body grew hotter and hotter.

There was no pain; it was instead like his body was just failing, and he was falling apart.

Jake drew in a ragged breath, his chest tight enough that barely anything got through, and his need for air only grew.

The corners of Jake’s vision turned colourless as he clawed his way out of bed, managing to get to his feet as his vision narrowed down to a single speck, and he felt himself fall backwards as he lost consciousness.