99
“We made it!” Sylvia stumbled through the portal, dragging another member of her team. Blood slithered down her arm from a tear across her shoulder.
She’d done well to not lose her arm.
Behind her, the last two also crawled into the dungeon hall and rolled onto their backs, moaning.
One started to cry.
Milo watched them, feeling relieved they’d all survived. And were mostly intact. Nothing about their condition looked suspicious.
He’d kept his eyes on the Tinker nearby, standing apart with a pad in his hands. It felt weird to see someone else with a pad and a part of him wanted to take it away or revoke his authorization.
Watching the Tinker, he was searching for any sign the man suspected there had been any changes to the levels.
So far, everything seemed fine.
Milo turned his head and met Sylvia’s gaze. The woman looked tired. The cut on her cheek had scabbed over. She swept her gaze over Milo and his golems.
Who all looked as pristine as when they went in.
Sylvia scowled at Tania. “How are you not covered in blood?”
“Nothing in there was bleeding.” Tania shrugged. Her lips twitched into a smile. “So I had to swim in water instead.”
“The water was nice,” Selma said.
A couple of staff members stepped up to check Sylvia’s arm. She let them do what they wanted, too exhausted to resist. One tore her sleeve open to get a look at the long cut in her shoulder. It had thankfully only sliced meat.
“How did you do it?” Sylvia asked Milo.
“We kept our distance,” he lied. They’d already discussed this tactic with some of the other students before entering. “And one of the buildings was tall. We spent the first day making the top part a bit taller and building a sniper nest in it.”
“With two mana rifles, it was fairly simple,” Mila said, tapping the gun still resting against her belly.
“Went through a lot of ammo, though,” Tania grumbled. “That wiped out our profits from the dungeon.”
“We lived though,” Milo countered.
Sylvia nodded along with him and sighed. “Maybe we should pick up a few rifles in the future.”
“Let me know if you need them modified,” Milo offered.
“Thanks.”
Cerena suddenly came running through the portal, looking like she was a little fish with a school of sharks behind her. She skidded to a halt behind Sylvia’s exhausted team and reeled on her heels before giving herself a relieved shake.
“That was close!”
Belt and Jassie came through next, with Martin in Belt’s arms. The young arcanomancer didn’t look hurt. Just exhausted. He’d given everything he had to help them retreat into the portal when it opened.
“Too close,” Jassie growled, giving her rifle a shake. “I’m out of ammo!”
“Next time bring more,” Tania crowed. “Your pack weighed less than Mila, ya lazy tramp.”
“What are you talking about?” Jassie frowned. “It was heavy. Milo, make better ammunition, please.”
Tania squinted at her. “And what’ll you pay for it if he did?”
Jassie squinted back. Then she held up three fingers. “I’ll feed him personally for three days.”
“Tch,” Tania clicked her tongue. “Is that all?”
“Would you mind moving off the platform, please,” Master Barrowclough called from the side. “Let the other students pass.”
“Oh...” Jassie gulped, looking down and then over her shoulder at the portal just behind her. “Sorry.”
Cerena’s team weaved through Sylvia’s broken one.
Cerena paused once beside the bleeding woman being lifted into a stretcher. “It’s good to see you made it,” she said.
“Thanks,” Sylvia said with a weak smile. “You too.”
“I’ll come see you.”
“Bring an apple. I don’t like flowers.”
“I will.” Cerena grinned as they took her away.
Belt shook his head at Selma. “The nest thing worked?”
“It was so boring,” Selma groaned. “But I got to swim a lot, I guess.”
“Swimming?”
“In the stream,” Tania put in. “It wasn’t deep, but the water was nice.”
“Oh.” Cerena nodded, remembering the stream on the map. “We were worried there were leeches in it.”
“Not so many.”
As one of the last teams arrived, Master Barrowclough glanced their way. “If you would all please vacate the hall, we have first years arriving shortly for their dungeon.”
“Shouldn’t you wait until everyone is out first?” Milo asked. “Isn’t it bad if someone comes out while someone else goes in?”
“We know what we’re doing, young Mister Mooney,” Master Finklestern grumped. “Now, do what students should be doing and move along. Go mooch in the halls or something.”
The gathered teams muttered to themselves at being kicked out without time to recover. Milo gave the Tinker one last glance, but the man didn’t seem concerned about anything.
Maybe there wasn’t any trouble with going in while someone was coming out. He’d need to nose through the books and ask the Prime about the portal’s mechanics.
Something else he needed to add to his list of things to do.
Belt strode along beside Selma, the two Tanks trading stories. Belt was doing most of the talking. Cerena held onto his arm. She was limping a little, but didn’t look to have been cut.
Jassie helped Martin stumble along. He was looking around the room with a dazed kind of joy on his face, happy to have survived.
He wasn’t the only one with that expression.
As they left the hall, the first year students were gathering already outside. It meant walking a gauntlet of awed and tense faces as they saw their condition.
Blood. Torn clothes. Bruises.
New scars on top of old ones.
Their fresh faces paled as the line of second years slowly moved like a funeral procession.
Vesna stood at one end with her partner. It was their first dungeon, so they would go in twos. Milo didn’t recognize the man she was with, but he looked fairly competent.
As they passed, he tried not to look at her.
But he saw she was smiling knowingly at him. As though she’d understood something.
He wondered if he should modify her dungeon and a malicious part of him seriously considered it. But that would be churlish, he thought.
Instead, he let his gaze move lazily to hers.
And he nodded.
“Good luck,” he said.
Vesna started, surprised by his words. Blinking back her shock, she smiled again. “Thanks.”
“Mister Mooney,” a smooth voice cut through the crowd as a tall man stepped up to him with a steady click of heels. “Come with me, please.”
A few gasps told him everything he needed to know.
And the voice was one he was familiar with.
Milo sighed as he turned, waving a hand. “Go away. I’m tired.”
Harry Jellickson pulled his lips back into an irritated grimace. “It would do your case well if you come with me now.”
“Case?” Milo looked at him as though seeing him for the first time. “Aren’t you the guy who tested me?”
“You remember that, do you?” He looked pleased about it.
Milo resisted the urge to spit on his feet.
Instead, he scowled darkly. “I won’t ever forget your face.”
Frowning at the hatred in Milo’s voice, Jellickson fumbled over his next words. “You are under investigation. I have questions for you.”
“I’ve just come out of a dungeon,” Milo said slowly, as though to an idiot. “It was three days of no sleep and constant tension. We’re tired. Please leave me alone.”
“Look here, you brat-”
“Mister Mooney,” Mistress Vizzingbelle appeared almost out of nowhere, sweeping out of a nearby room. “What’s all this fuss?”
“He wants to take me away,” Milo said. “I think I’m being arrested?”
Other students gasped again.
“Arrested?” Jellickson looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t say that…”
“Well, you wanted to drag me away. And I told you I’m tired.”
“The boy just came out of the Dwarven Ruin dungeon, Inspector,” Mistress Vizzingbelle said coldly.
“Whatever questions you have, they can wait. Unless you were hoping to use his exhaustion to twist and manipulate his words? I shouldn’t think that’s how the Mage Court’s special investigators ought to operate. ”
“It’s not like that,” Jellickson hissed. “It’s just very difficult to find the little… student.”
“Maybe you could try the Common Room. Or the Mess. Or his room,” Tania put in. “Or the library. He’s often in the library.”
“What?” Jellickson turned to her as though seeing her for the first time. “Who are you?”
“Aint cha an inspector?” Tania grabbed Milo’s arm and started dragging him away. “Inspect it out yourself.”
The man’s face turned black, and he took a half-step towards them.
He was clearly unused to being told no.
“Special Inspector Jellickson,” Mistress Vizzingbelle started. “I’m sure you were advised not to harass the students.”
“I need to do my job and question him,” the man snarled.
“Questioning is fine,” she said. “Perhaps make an appointment. Or request he come to your office. You were given one, weren’t you?”
“I don’t need you telling me how to do my job.”
“Excellent,” she said, showing her teeth. “Then there’s no reason for us to speak any more. Alright, you lot. What are you standing around for? The dungeon won’t wait for you, you know.”
The first years scrambled to get into the dungeon hall.
Leaving Harry Jellickson alone in the hall.
He scowled to where Milo had disappeared.
Scowled back at the dungeon hall where Mistress Vizzingbelle had disappeared.
“You ain’t changed at all, you cow,” he muttered, stomping away.
Only to hear a soft voice call lightly; “And neither have you, you worm.”