No sooner had the group mastered the art of cheesing these flame-belching, saw-wielding automata, did the next major threat introduce itself.

  A dry dock appeared devoid of enemies and traps. No ship had passed through here in ages, and never would. A straight shot from the entrance to a customs office awaited on the far end of an avenue. Enkidu took two steps forward… and was immediately struck with three crossbow bolts courtesy of a miniature ballista on a swivel just above the door. He turned to duck behind the remnants of a crane and took two more bolts to the back for his trouble.

  To his credit, the wild man appeared unfazed. Barely noticed the bolts until Zilara insisted he pop them out.

  At Jelena’s insistence, Calaf waved his spear out past the pillar. A flurry of bolts chased the spear around, shadowing its movements.

  “Ah. It’s motion tracking!”

  “Who made these things?” Calaf asked.

  “Well, those robots were called ‘Gustavo’s Automaton,” Zilara mentioned. “This thing doesn’t have a designation, but one assumes it’s the same guy.”

  The crossbow detected a rat and swiftly swiveled over to get a shot off at it.

  “That’s whose letter we’re following,” Jelena said.

  “The Scout.” Calaf recalled some lessons from the church orphanage.

  The holy scout of the ancient heroes. Why, his hometown stomping grounds were patrolled by artificial creatures of his own creation! Nothing could remain operating for that long. They were his inventions in spirit, though surely they were maintained by some church personnel designed to keep the dungeon challenging.

  “Well, surely the automated security he built all those years ago are all scrap by now,” Calaf said. “Not sure where the supplies of automata here are all coming from.”

  They were pinned, progress halted until this automatic crossbow was dealt with. It scanned the pillar with a narrow pivot, as if recalling the last tracked movement.

  “I’ll advance with my shield up,” Calaf suggested.

  Jelena shook her head. “New shield is a little small, Hot Shot. This thing senses motion. Your legs will be exposed while you advance.”

  Dejected, Calaf measured things out. She was right, of course. Maybe if he advanced at a crouch…

  “Just trying to preserve your kneecaps, dear,” Jelena said, patting his shoulder pauldron consolingly.

  Next, Zilara suggested they bait the crossbow until it depleted its ammo reserves. Jelena held a spare bonnet out on Calaf’s spear. There was a whiff as the crossbow detected, aimed, and fired at the presumed threat. The old bonnet was unceremoniously impaled to the wall.

  Calaf continued drawing out crossbow bolts with his shield, never once leaving the safety of one of the drydock's massive pillars. This continued for several minutes.

  “Eh, it’s not working, Hoss.” Zilara peeked at the crossbow from the other end of the pillar. “It’s reloading itself.”

  A mechanical belt kept feeding bolts into this automated contraption.

  “Gustavo must’ve built them to last,” Jelena mused. “Anyone have any other ideas?”

  “I’ll go right. The rest of you wait exactly three seconds then go left.”

  Enkidu did not wait for a response. He ran out. There was another whif-whif-whiffing sound. Some bolts missed their target while others did not. None phased the wild man.

  Three seconds. That was the time between each ‘whiff’ as the crossbow fired, reloaded, and then fired again. The group ran left as the crossbow sent a second bolt Enkidu’s way.

  “Keep running!” Jelena said, holding Zilara’s hand and helping her rush along. A second pillar waited, just within range of the crossbow’s lower bounds. The crossbow swiveled, though Enkidu yet stood, as Jelena and company tripped some unseen sensor threshold. It started firing just as soon as Zilara’s diminutive frame was in its mechanical sights.

  A kite shield blocked the bolt, then the next. Calaf stood as a stone wall, escorting Zilara and Jelena behind the second pillar.

  “My hero,” Jelena said once they were safe. “I owe you one later.”

  Zilara snickered. “That means Hoss is giving you an extra dose of luvin’ in the tent tonight.”

  “Children shouldn’t talk like that. Though it happens to be true.” Jelena coughed to clear her throat. “Back to business. We’ve still got, what, twenty paces to get to the door?”

  The crossbow swiveled back and forth, angled steeply downward to ensure nobody escaped its domain. It could fire down directly onto the doorway it was perched over.

  “Have an idea,” Calaf said.

  He tossed his spear up and caught it overhand. He prepped his shield to cover most of his torso; it would be impossible to do this without a bolt or two being fired.

  Calaf swiveled out of cover. The first bolt hit his kite shield. Then, he let loose:

  The spear flew true. A second bolt hit his shield, closer to the edge now. Still, the spear sailed in an arc. The crossbow’s targeting mechanism (correctly) identified the spear as the more immediate threat. By the time it got a third bolt off, though, the spear was already jammed through its stirrup and down its barrel. A string pulled back to fire another bolt, then another. By then the mechanism determined it was jammed and so returned to a neutral state, deactivated.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “Whew. Good thinking.” Jelena hugged Calaf. Then, she whispered: “I owe you a great many ones. Let’s set up an IOU system, huh? Oh, and, uh, let’s find a way to get that spear back…”

  Enkidu tossed Calaf up to the roof to, first, permanently stultify the automatic crossbow and, secondly, retrieve his spear.

  A swift kick to the ammo belt prevented the crossbow from reloading. The belt slunk back through some divot in the wall just as soon as it snapped off the crossbow. There was no way to follow, and no clue as to where the belt had retreated to. Mission complete, Calaf pulled his spear out of the crossbow.

  With the way clear, the group entered the drydock offices.

  “Huh.” Jelena kicked a bit of metal scrap on the floor.

  Evidence of a prior altercation loomed. There were remnants of three automatons, as well as a great deal of blood near the doors where some poor fool stepped on a tripwire.

  Zilara and Calaf took point, their heightened perceptive abilities on the lookout for traps. There were many broken tripwires but no active traps.

  A warm glow of a campfire came from a short courtyard towards the back of the building. Another party was here. The group heard murmurs and stomped about a bit louder to announce their presence.

  “Someone else? In the offseason?” came a cynical, growly voice from the courtyard.

  Calaf walked out first, shield present but not raised in defense. A narrow safe zone existed in the backyard of this dock office between the building and a short fence. A group of three had deployed their camp item here, even though it was barely midday.

  “You lost too?” asked the nominal leader, a scout-type class. “Where are my manners? Come, sit by the fire awhile. And please, take a gander at my Interface:”

  “Mikail?” Calaf did a double take to ensure he’d read the Interface right. “Is that you?”

  The former Vanguard had grown a slight beard since the pair last met. They’d been part of Paladin Kai and Karol’s party on the old crusader’s trail. After disaster struck, Mikail had taken his wages and departed, disbanding the party. He’d leveled up a great deal in the interim.

  No doubt Mikail was here now to rank up into a proper Scout.

  “That replacement Shielder?” Mikail’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, seen Gael lately?”

  Calaf shrugged. “Wanted to stay near the Battletower. That was, what, a year ago? Who knows.”

  The rest of the group approached.

  “Friend of yours?” Jelena motioned at Mikail.

  “Something like that.”

  The remaining two members of Mikail’s party were a blonde Seer, a type of midranking Cleric, and a lower-level Vanguard. The Seer’s name was Yonah while the Vanguard’s Interface listed him as Riordan.

  "Hey there," said Riordan. "First time dungeon diving? Me too. It's so... hardcore!"

  Calaf looked upon this fellow curiously.

  "That's right. Got to be real hardcore to survive in the church's official dungeons. If you're not hardcore you'd better turn back now. There was a second party who bailed before the riverbed flooded. Guess they just weren't hardcore enough."

  A stifled groan escaped Calaf's mouth. His jaw clenched up. Duly, he noted that the Menu blessed all types, and all were equal under its user interface.

  "Hardcore!" punctuated the prospective scout.

  The cleric, Yonah, didn't say much at all. This was more up to Calaf's speed, even if the welcome from her wasn't necessarily warm either.

  “Our hired tank and a crimson mage got eviscerated by traps,” Mikail explained through gritted teeth. “Tried advancing forward but that auto-crossbow blocked our route. Flooding happened just as soon as we cleared the riverbed so we can’t go back.”

  Remnants of Mikail's group sat by the campfire. The item was recently used, and so the flames burnt brightest.

  “You came from over there?” Calaf pointed behind the fence. “Odd, we came from the other direction.”

  “Our dashing Squire solved your crossbow issue,” Jelena said, looking at Calaf.

  “Ahem. Yes. The way is clear… but it seems like the layout is designed to send us in a loop.”

  The ‘dungeon’ was repurposed from a block or two of (formerly) riverside docks. Every street was not meant to lead to a climatic encounter and an adjacent treasure room. That was done via design. As if by an unseen hand.

  “This is awfully… intense… as a religious institution,” Calaf said. “Think there would be more of a focus on quiet meditation or at least some aspect of the Scout’s life.”

  The other party shrugged. It was a dungeon. What did Calaf expect, a guided tour? But this got at the heart of something the Squire had grappled with long before he’d fallen in with Jelena. The pilgrimage route, the very manner in which faithful advanced up the levels and ranks – it was primarily based around combat. A few noncombat roles existed; blacksmiths could earn a healthy number of ranks based entirely on their craft, as could farmers. Even bishops and deacons spent the formative years of their careers out in the field fighting dire-beasts rather than tending to the needy.

  Why was that?

  “Well, we’re stuck here until we can figure out where we’re supposed to go,” Mikail said. “Got ale if you need it.”

  Zilara tugged on Jelena’s shoulder and whispered something into the posse leader’s ear. She nodded to Enkidu, who escorted her back into the building.

  “Y’know if the kid needed to take a leak the camps come with a built-in latrine,” said Riordan, who was ignored.

  The group waited, none the wiser to Zilara’s intentions.

  “Here to rank up, I presume?” Calaf asked Mikail,

  The Vanguard nodded.

  "That's exactly right." Riordan shouted. "We're here to grab the Scout's level up material early and prove we're hardcore."

  However does such a highly visible and always-audible Scout manage to operate in stealth? Calaf wondered.

  Yonah, the diminutive cleric, raised her hand.

  "Um, I was traveling south for my annual pilgrimage. But I just woke up in the desert not long ago," she said. "I tried retracing my steps but the caravan I was with had already moved on. I tried following them into the delta but got lost until I found Mister Mikail here by chance. They needed a healer, and I-I wasn't supposed to take a hit so my level shouldn't have mattered..."

  Another victim of the Piper Demon. Calaf did not recall turning her around in that secluded valley and sending her back. Perhaps Yonah here had been charmed and started out over the dunes, only to stop when the demon's song was cut off and awakened with the dawn.

  “Well, that, and—” Mikail leaned in close. “—rumor has it that someone wants to rebuild the Thieves Guild right and proper. Figured the thief’s dungeon was the proper place for it, so I came to try and introduce myself. Also figured it’d be nice to rank up to Thief before I do so, yeah? Only, they don’t seem to be operating out of here.”

  Calaf examined their surroundings. “Place is too hard to find. They’ll set up shop where they can hawk wares to laypeople. Launder gold. Generally operate alongside ‘legitimate’ merchants.”

  Port Town truly was the best possible place for a guild of thieves. Maybe Plains Junction or Firefield in a pinch. But the docks were ideal for offloading, unloading, and smuggling.

  “Huh.” Mikail shrugged, acknowledging the point. “The call just went out not but a day or two ago. Figured they might not just be set up yet.”

  Shortly thereafter, Zilara and Enkidu returned.

  “Found the way out!”

  The two parties – well, full party and the half a remaining one – returned to the drydocks.

  “So there’s often crawlspaces in these things so that workers can get under the boats. Pry off dire-barnacles,” Zilara explained. “The crossbow was one giant distraction. But…”

  The group looked out over a drydock pit. There was indeed a narrow passageway at the bottom running under the office building.

  “You could dive in there and pretty easily dodge the crossbow entirely.”

  “Good eye, kiddo.” Jelena patted her on the head. “Well, we know the way forward. Anyone have a clue as to where this leads?”

  “I’ve read some guides and testaments about the dungeon,” Mikail said. “Should be one last chamber, then the rank up material will be in a closet around back.”

  And whatever hidden treasure trove Gustavo alluded to in his scribbled notes would be hidden away somewhere deeper still.

  “Well, tanks in front,” Riordan insisted.

  “Yes, dear, after you,” Jelena said, chipper.

  With a nod, Calaf jumped into the dry dock. He took point, shield up.