Esquire was a technically correct title; I did have a law degree. In fact I could have told them to call me Doctor if I’d felt so inclined, but I thought that might sew some confusion. It was also pretentious.

“Esquire?” Pants Party asked, looking incredulous.

“He’s a fucking landed peasant!” said the tall blonde in leather.

“Not a peasant,” said the shorter red-skinned woman.

“Not a noble either,” said the beast-person. Pants Party held up a hand to quiet them.

“Esquire Arlo,” he said slowly, “how did you end up with a place in the Creation Delve?”

I gave this a second of thought.

“It was a gift,” I said.

“Your lord gifted you with a slot in this year’s Creation Delve?”

I decided to see how far I could stretch the truth. One might characterize the act of granting me a second life as a gift, so that wasn’t too far astray from what happened. Plus, it was a gift from a divine being. Perhaps that made them a sort of capital ‘L’ Lord instead of what Pants Party meant, so I just went with it.

“Yes,” I said, urging myself to believe the lie I was telling.

“Hell of a gift,” the beast-person drawled. The others were speechless.

“What, if I may ask, are all of your titles?” I said, looking around the room.

“He’s fucking with us,” said the blonde. “He’s probably the whelp of some fat prince out in Timagrin or something. More money than sense.” She walked toward me and prodded me in the chest hard with a finger. I barely felt it. “You may think this is funny, but your jokes have led you to an unmarked grave in the Delve.”

“Is that a threat?” I asked. She barked out a laugh.

“A threat? I’m not the threat, the Delve is, you moron! I don’t have to do shit for you to get dead.”

“Enough, Chilla,” Pants Party said to the blonde. “Esquire or not, that is the title you have given and so the party will be organized with that fact in mind.” He turned to the short, red-skinned woman. “Good enough, Xim?” She nodded. “Then it’s settled.”

He turned back to me, glaring.

“I am Low-Lord Varrin Ravvenblaq, heir apparent to Thundralke Ealdric Ravvenblaq the Third. Such is my pedigree, which marks me as the highest of this group and thus I am its leader. Because you have claimed to be an esquire, who cannot possibly be of a higher rank than anyone here, or any who has ever walked the Delve for that matter, I will spare you the lineage of our other members. This is Low-Lord Chilla Stormreiss,” he pointed to the blonde woman. “She is second in the party as her mother is a Wolfsbane.” He pointed at the beast-person, “This is Sir Sayil Starion, who is third, as his father is a count in the Littan Empire. This,” he pointed to the shorter woman, “is Xim of the Third Layer who is fourth because she is a citizen of the deep. And you are Esquire Arlo whose surname is irrelevant and who is the child of no one important.”

“My mother would definitely disagree with that.”

“Enough of your quips,” Pants Party, I mean, Low-Lord Varrin said. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back, looking forlornly at the ceiling. “What’s your class?”

“Lower than noble and higher than peasant, apparently.” I said. “So, I guess middle?”

“Your build, you fool! How do you fight?!”

I knew what he’d been asking, and I knew it was immature to keep riling him up but I couldn’t help myself on that last one.

“Spells.”

Varrin waited a moment for me to elaborate, but I didn’t. Telling him my stats would be telling him my strengths and weaknesses and I got the feeling me and him weren’t going to walk out of here as good friends.

“Fine,” he said after it became obvious I wasn’t giving him anything further. “A caster. So that gives us four dealers and a cleric. It could be worse. We’ve got ranged physical from Chilla and whatever the esquire here has for magic damage, plus two melee fighters, Sir Sayil and I, so our damage diversity is decent. Cleric for healing is good since we won’t have a main tank, Xim can handle a shield and armor in case she gets attacked. Sir Sayil, did you balance for defense or focus more on attack?”

“Balance,” said Sayil. “Gonna focus on attack as I level, but wanted to make sure I could make it work with whatever team I ended up with.”

“That’s good,” said Varrin, “So did I.” Xim and Chilla both nodded in agreement at the sentiment.

“Did you all not come in together?” I asked. They all looked at me in unison. Sayil and Chilla looked dumbfounded, but Varrin was pissed. Xim just stared at me.

“You don’t know how this works at all, do you?” Varrin asked.

“I do not,” I said. Even if I wanted to lie it would quickly become obvious that I didn’t know what I was doing. I mean, I thought it was already obvious.

“We’ve been teamed up with an infant,” said Varrin. “Do I need to teach you your letters as well?”

“You think he can read?” asked Chilla.

“This is the Creation Delve,” said Xim, taking a step forward. “It is the first Delve taken by those of noble lineage who wish to become Delvers.” The others watched her for a moment as she spoke, but Varrin stomped away and started pulling armor out of his pack. Chilla and Sir Sayil also turned to their own preparations.

Xim walked closer to me and continued.

“One hundred candidates must enter at once for the Creation Delve to activate and the Delve assigns us into random groups of five. We do not know who we will be grouped with until after we have undergone character creation. I believe Chilla and Varrin know each other at least somewhat, but the rest of us are strangers.”

“That’s why they were talking about having a balanced build,” I said.

Xim nodded, her dark, curly hair bobbing.

“Yes, it is difficult to specialize because too many with the same specialty may be grouped up, which makes it more difficult to complete the Delve on one of the higher tiers. Five defense specialists might be struck down by ranged casters in a fortified position. Five damage specialists can be overrun by melee attackers. And five healers, well,” she gave a slight smile, “they can’t do much without the rest of the party.”

She began pacing around me in a circle, looking me up and down as she spoke.

“Most aspiring Delvers go for a balanced approach. Their build will lean toward a specialty, while also fleshing out other stats that will be useful in the event they wind up in a party with a lot of the same types. This party, in particular, is missing a defense specialist. But while both Sir Sayil and Low-Lord Varrin are planning to become Strength-based melee damage specialists, for the Creation Delve they both invested in things like extra Fortitude, or Agility to help them take hits or dodge attacks, as opposed to leaning heavily into Strength and Speed.”

“And you’re a Cleric,” I said, looking over her armor and the scepter she continued to swing about as she walked. “So you went for what? More Intelligence and Wisdom, but also a healthy splash of Strength and Fortitude?”

“Close,” she said, stopping in front of me. “Charisma is more important than Intelligence for my casting. I can heal, but I can also take the front line and deal with melee threats if I have to.”

“What if you end up with five ‘balanced’ melee classes?”

Xim shrugged.

“It happens. You can’t focus on everything, so the most common tactic is to pick two roles and build into those. But you didn’t know that coming in.”

“That’s right.”

She leaned in and spoke softly.

“So you specialized?”

“In a sense.”

She grinned again, like she was in on some joke that I wasn’t.

“It’s probably fine. People who specialize for their Creation Delve are viewed… poorly. They rely on the fact that others will fill in the gaps for them in order to get a head start on the stats they really want. If enough people did that, then Creation Delves would become a lot more dangerous, so no one likes a specialist. But we have enough balanced members, and some ranged magic will be helpful.”

“Oh,” I said, “it’s not ranged, per se.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Before I could respond there was a loud crack and the sound of grinding stone, followed by a notification window.

Your party leader has initiated the Delve. The selected difficulty is: Platinum. You have twenty-four hours to complete the Delve. Good luck!

“What did you do?!” Sir Sayil roared. When I looked up, an entire wall of the room was descending to the ground, and Sir Sayil had the point of his spear at Low-Lord Varrin’s throat.

Chilla had her bow drawn, aiming at Sir Sayil.

“Take a step back,” she said. Sayil didn’t waiver, his eyes locked on Varrin.

“You’ve killed us,” Sayil said, his spear still leveled at Varrin.

Varrin, now fully clad in steel armor, held his hands out to either side.

“We’re here to delve, aren’t we?” he asked.

“But not to die,” said Sayil. “You never even asked what difficulty we were prepared for.”

“Please,” Varrin scoffed, “you may be far from home, Sir Sayil, but I know who you are. I’ve been keeping up with all the promising candidates for this year’s Delve since I was twelve. Your empire holds tournaments to determine who enters their Delver academies. You swept your bracket, the only Littan to go undefeated that year. Since then you’ve been at the head of your class for six consecutive semesters.”

“And what of it?” asked Sayil.

“Your talents would be wasted on anything less than a Gold Delve. Why wouldn’t you aim for the top?”

Sayil stepped back and slammed the butt of his spear into the ground.

“My family is not so greedy for power that we would throw our lives away. I would have been fine with a Gold Delve, but you chose Platinum. And even if you know something about me, I do not know anything about you.”

Varrin let his hands drop, then shrugged.

“Chilla was one of five students hand-picked from my vassals. We’ve trained together extensively and I can vouch for her talent. The fact we’ve ended up in the same party is an enormous advantage. And Xim is of the Third Layer! Any member of her house could carry a party of three-year-olds through a Silver Delve without harm.”

Sayil thrust his spear in my direction.

“And what about him?” he asked. Varrin rolled his eyes.

“Who cares? He can hide in the back and throw mana bolts or whatever it is he does. The four of us are among the absolute best of this year’s candidates. If we can’t handle a Platinum Creation Delve, then no one can.”

“You still should have asked,” Sayil spat.

“I didn’t have to ask,” said Varrin. “This isn’t a council, it’s a party, and I am its leader. You need to respect that while we’re inside.”

Sayil glowered at Varrin, but didn’t say anything further.

As the drama unfolded, I kept an eye on the wall beyond them as it slowly made its way into the ground. Green mist began to creep over its edges and drift in tendrils toward the floor, where it puddled and spread.

“It’s good that we’re all bonding,” I said, “but should we worry about that?”

Xim was already studying the mist, frowning, and the other three turned to look at it. As the wall sank, more and more mist spilled out of it. It flowed across the ground and began filling the room. Varrin adjusted his sword belt and snatched a kite shield off the ground, sending swirling patterns through the cloud.

“Looks like visibility will be low inside,” he said.

“It’s not just fog,” said Xim, kneeling to study the vapor and taking a hesitant sniff. “It’s poisonous.”

By the time the door had sunk entirely, the mist was pouring out. Beyond it was a dark stone corridor, its walls rough and uneven. A set of stone steps was barely visible within, descending into the cloud.

“Well that’s fucking ominous,” I said. Sayil shot Varrin another dark look. Chilla rifled through her pack and produced three small vials of a dark, amber liquid.

“I have three antidotes,” she said.

“Antidotes won’t matter,” said Xim. “It will dispel the poison, but you’ll just breathe more in and get poisoned again immediately.”

“Then we take them after we’ve gone through the cloud,” said Chilla.

“And how long,” said Sir Sayil, “will that take?”

We all leaned in for a closer look, but the bottom of the stairs was obscured in puke-green darkness.

“Maybe,” I said, “we sit this one out. Catch the next Creation Delve.”

“Once entered,” said Xim, “you cannot leave the Delve until it is completed.”

“And if we can’t complete it?” I asked.

“We die,” said Sayil.

I swallowed, then wondered if there were some sort of record for speedrunning your second death.

“It’s a beginner Delve,” said Varrin. “It can’t be very strong. Everyone check your health regen.” Varrin knelt and took a deep breath of the mist. He coughed and stood back up, eyes watering, then he stared off into the distance for a second. “It’s one damage every five minutes. See?” He made a face like he’d just taken a shot of uncut moonshine brewed in a dirty bathtub. “It’s not that bad. Do some math and figure out how long it will take for your health to get low. Xim can rotate her heals. If the mist keeps going we just have to get through it in a few hours.”

“Holy shit,” said Chilla. “My health regen is massive for some reason.”

“Mine too,” said Xim.

Varrin stared off into space again. Checking his stats, I guessed.

“You’re right,” he said. “The detail reads: ‘Plus thirteen health regen granted from Who Needs a Cleric?’. Is that someone’s skill?”

The others shook their heads. I raised my hand slightly and they all looked at me.

“That’s mine,” I said. “No offense, Xim. That’s just the name of the skill. I’m sure clerics are very much needed.”

She just stared, which seemed to be happening a lot to me. People staring. These people, at least. I thought it might be a cultural difference. Maybe staring wasn’t rude here. But, honestly, I knew that it was more likely that my whole existence within the context of this Creation Dungeon was a bit ludicrous.

“The name of that skill,” said Varrin, “is absurd.”

“It’s strong,” said Sayil. “Who cares what it’s named?”

“Is it an aura?” asked Xim.

“Yeah,” I said. “Picked it up as my passive. Thought it looked pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” said Sayil. “For level zero it’s unhinged.”

“It’s an aura,” said Varrin, “They’re always strong to start-”

“Not this strong,” Sayil interrupted. Varrin frowned.

“They don’t scale well as you level. That’s why no one takes them.”

“We’re lucky he did, though,” said Sayil.

“Yes,” said Varrin, glancing at me. “If all you do is stand there and give us that health regen you’ll at least be useful. One damage every five minutes is twelve an hour, so thirteen extra health regen completely offsets the poison effect.”

“Glad I can help,” I said. It was true. Varrin was being an asshole, but I kind of understood why. I was obviously a complete amateur at whatever this Creation Delve thing was. Even if the others weren’t experts, they had clearly studied and prepared for it. If this were a group project, I was the guy who hadn’t spent a single day paying attention in class, then showed up expecting everyone else to do the work. I mean, I hadn’t done that on purpose. I’d been thrust into this situation somewhat against my will. I still wanted to be helpful, or at least not get in the way. So, I could forgive Varrin for his behavior at the moment. Though I expected he was always kind of a dick.

“Is everyone ready to go?” Varrin asked. The others nodded, shouldering their packs and beginning to move to the Delve’s entrance. Varrin picked up the large sack and tossed it to me. “Since you don’t have anything of your own, you can carry one of these.” I smiled and hefted it onto my back.

As I thought about the fact that I didn’t have any gear whatsoever, I remembered that I was still holding onto the amulet I’d gotten from the Tiny-Tot Traveler starter kit. The others were already starting down into the darkness, and as I stepped through the entrance behind them I looked down at the necklace. It had a dark chain speckled with red and silver flecks. A small and utterly black gem dangled off of it, wrapped in an ornate wire setting made of the same material. I focused, and a blue window popped up. That was still blowing my mind a little.

Traveler’s Amulet

This is an evolving item.

Current Level: Tiny-Tot

Effects:

(1): It’s stylish.

Complete the Creation Delve to unlock this amulet’s next effect.

It was exactly useless. I sighed and clasped it around my neck, then stepped down into the murky, green darkness.