Vincent clapped Darin on the back. "Cheer up, Overlord. That was probably the least illegal thing we'll do today."
Darin groaned. "Why is that not comforting?"
He turned to Vincent with an exasperated sigh. "Weren't you dispatched by the king? Why don't you just leverage your political influence and escort us to him immediately? You know, sidestep all this trouble?"
Vincent chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, if only it were that easy. The king is swamped with matters far more pressing than your current predicament. Besides, he has an eye for theatrics, something about a grand entrance."
Darin rubbed his temples. "Great. Just what I need. A king who enjoys dramatics."
"Consider it part of the charm of royalty," Vincent said, grinning.
The sorceress glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. "Charming or not, we should be cautious. The capital isn't just a place of power, it's also filled with people who would love to see you fail."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Darin muttered as they moved deeper into the tunnel.
The damp air clung to his skin, and every echo of their footsteps seemed to amplify his growing anxiety. The walls around them, slick with condensation, felt too close, as if pressing in on him. Shadows flickered and twisted across the stone as they turned a corner, entering a wide chamber lit by dying torches embedded in the walls.
The room was cluttered with abandoned crates, broken barrels, and the unmistakable scent of mold and old wood.
"Looks like an old storage area," Vincent observed, scanning the chamber. "Might find something useful here."
Darin raised an eyebrow. "Useful how? We're not here to set up shop."
Vincent ignored him and pried open a rotting crate with surprising ease. Inside were rusted weapons, axes dulled with age, blades chipped beyond repair. Darin wrinkled his nose.
"This stuff belongs in a museum. Or a trash heap."
"Or it might just come in handy," Vincent replied, rummaging through the broken remains.
Darin sighed, but his gut twisted with unease. Something felt wrong about this place. He couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't alone.
The sorceress stiffened. "We should keep moving."
They pressed on, weaving through the darkened passageways when suddenly, faint voices echoed ahead, a mix of laughter and hushed conversation.
Darin tensed. "Uh… tell me that's just really chatty rats."
Vincent exhaled, his usual grin replaced by quiet seriousness. "Mercenaries."
Darin's stomach twisted. "Great. That's never good news."
They crouched at the edge of the tunnel, peering into the next chamber.
Eight men sat around a small fire, the flickering flames casting jagged shadows along the damp walls. Their armor, worn and mismatched, marked them as sellswords, their weapons carelessly resting at their sides but close enough to grab in an instant.
"Do you think he'll actually show?" one of them asked, tossing a twig into the fire.
"He has to," another replied with a wicked grin. "The nobles wouldn't dare let him slip away before the execution."
Darin's breath hitched. "Execution? Who are they talking about?"
The sorceress didn't answer, but the warning look she gave him spoke volumes.
"We cannot stay here," she whispered.
Darin nodded quickly, preparing to back away when—
Vincent took a step forward.
"What if we confront them?" he mused quietly, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
Darin gawked at him. "Are you insane?! They have swords! And numbers!"
"They also have no idea who we are," Vincent countered smoothly.
The sorceress narrowed her eyes. "We could take them by surprise—"
Before she could finish, one of the mercenaries jerked his head toward their direction, his gaze sharp.
"There's someone there!"
Darin's stomach plummeted.
All at once, the men shot to their feet, hands flying to their weapons.
"Get ready," Vincent muttered.
And just like that, chaos erupted.
The mercenaries surged forward, steel flashing in the dim light. Vincent moved first, sidestepping a lunging attacker and slamming his knee into the man's gut. The mercenary crumpled, gasping for air.
Darin stood frozen, dagger clenched uselessly in his grip.
"I am not built for this," he muttered.
Another mercenary charged straight at him, sword raised.
Darin's survival instincts finally kicked in.
He ducked, narrowly avoiding the blade as he stumbled backward—only to trip over a loose stone and crash into a stack of crates. The impact sent a torch tumbling from its sconce.
Darin watched in horror as the torch hit the ground—
And immediately ignited a dry pile of fabric nearby.
"Oh no."
The fire spread instantly, licking up the walls and engulfing two mercenaries in flames.
"PUT IT OUT!" one of them shrieked, flailing wildly.
Darin scrambled to his feet. "I did not mean to do that!"
Another mercenary swung at him. Darin panicked, throwing up his hands—
And accidentally smacked the man across the face with his own dagger hilt.
The mercenary staggered, dropping his sword and collapsing into a dazed heap.
Darin blinked.
"…That worked?"
Vincent, mid-duel, cast him an incredulous look. "Darin, are you winning by accident again?"
Before Darin could answer, the ceiling groaned.
The fire had weakened the wooden support beams. With a sickening crack, one of them snapped, sending a rickety scaffold collapsing onto the remaining mercenaries.
A cloud of dust and debris filled the chamber. When it settled—
The mercenaries were down.
Darin, still clutching his dagger like an idiot, stood amidst the wreckage.
Vincent surveyed the scene. Then, clapping a hand on Darin's shoulder, he said, "Impressive work, friend. You certainly have a knack for catastrophe."
Darin groaned. "I hate my life."
The sorceress strode forward, her expression unreadable as she scanned the aftermath. "We need to leave now before reinforcements arrive."
Darin wasn't about to argue.
Vincent gestured toward a narrow passageway. "This way."
As they slipped into the shadows, Darin muttered under his breath, "I did not aim for any of that."
"Then aim for subtlety next time," Vincent teased.
"Easy for you to say," Darin grumbled. "You've probably killed hundreds of goblins before breakfast."
Vincent smirked. "Not hundreds. Maybe dozens."
The sorceress snorted. "Darin, you do realize this is exactly why people think you're some legendary warlord, right?"
Darin groaned, kicking a loose stone. "Accidental arson does not make me a warlord."
The sorceress tilted her head. "No. But your instinct for chaos is certainly… endearing."
Darin stared at her. "Endearing?! I just caused a handful of deaths!"
Vincent grinned. "Chaos followed by accidental victories? That's heroism."
Darin sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "I hate everything about this."
As they pressed deeper into the tunnels,
The sorceress tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes narrowing as if weighing Darin's words. "Perhaps. But trouble often leads to growth, wouldn't you agree?"
Darin let out a short, humorless laugh. "Growth? I'd settle for just surviving this mess."
His voice echoed against the damp stone walls, swallowed quickly by the surrounding silence. Their steps reverberated through the underground passage, punctuated only by the steady drip of water from somewhere above. Steve let out a soft, wheezing snort, his small, jerky movements making him look more like an overgrown, clumsy puppy than a fearsome dragon. Meanwhile, Grumble had settled himself comfortably on Darin's head, his tiny claws digging lightly into his scalp.
Darin didn't even try to shake him off. At this point, if the shadow creature wanted to roost there like some bizarre, eldritch parrot, so be it.
The air thickened the deeper they went, damp with mildew and something faintly metallic that Darin really didn't want to think about. The flickering torchlight played cruel tricks on the walls, twisting their shadows into strange, writhing figures. Darin kept his gaze on the uneven ground, careful with every step.
"You alright, Darin?" Vincent's voice was softer than usual, the usual teasing lilt smoothed out into something quieter.
Darin forced a smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace. "Yeah. Just watching my step. Wouldn't want to trip and accidentally start another fire spree."
Vincent laughed, the sound warm and rumbling in the cold space. "Though, I must admit… it's clear you've got a knack for it."
Darin groaned. "I prefer to think of it as collateral damage."
The sorceress chuckled, her voice low and amused. "Darin, you make it sound like a deliberate act."
"Well, I kinda meant to, but also didn't mean to, uh… start an inferno," Darin muttered, nudging a loose cobblestone with his boot. He trailed off, suddenly aware of how ridiculous his defense sounded.
The sorceress hummed, eyeing him with an unreadable expression. "Fascinating."
Darin wasn't sure if she meant him or his general incompetence, but either way, he decided not to ask.
Finally, the passage opened into a circular chamber, its ceiling supported by intricately carved pillars that spiraled upward like twisting serpents. A shallow pool of stagnant water sat in the center, the flames from their torches reflecting eerily across its still surface.
"This will have to do for now," the sorceress murmured, stepping forward and running her fingers lightly along the stone. "It's secluded enough to keep us hidden and should give us time to regroup."
Vincent nodded, rolling his shoulders. "A roof over our heads is enough for tonight. We'll figure out the rest in the morning."
Darin exhaled, glancing around warily. The chamber felt… heavy. Something about it made his skin itch. The weight of the underground pressed in from all sides, the stale air thick with something unseen.
"…Well," he said, in an attempt to break the tension, "at least it's not a smelly goblin cave."
"Don't speak too soon," the sorceress chuckled, a glint of mischief flashing in her eyes.
Steve chose that moment to plop onto the ground with a soft thud, his blue flames sputtering before settling into a steady, low burn. The smell of sulfur intensified immediately.
Darin wrinkled his nose. "Fantastic."
The tiny dragon chirped, sidling up to him with clear affection.
Darin groaned and stepped away. "Steve, no. We've talked about this."
Steve ignored him, puffing out a small, smoke-filled sigh.
Vincent smirked. "You do seem to have a talent for acquiring burdens."
Darin scowled. "Seriously, Steve, you're a menace."
The dragon made a contented purring sound before curling up next to the stagnant water.
Vincent stretched and leaned casually against one of the pillars. "At least this time, the burden in question can breathe fire."
Darin sighed. "You say that like it's helpful."
The sorceress smirked. "Oh, I'm sure it will be."