“Alright, everyone!” Rigel yelled, and Tibs looked up from the crate he was helping the merchant unload from her wagon.

  The caravan master stood on the roof of his, with the gray stone of the city wall as the backdrop. “The carts to transport your goods to the market will be here shortly. Be sure that the goods you want there in time for the customers to arrive are ready to be pced on it. It’s first come first served here. Unless you are willing to part with your money. Then, cart owners are just inside the gate, ready to hire themselves out to bring anything you want to the market.”

  The gate was out of Tibs’s sight, behind multiple wagons, but he sensed the mass of people and animals on each side of the road, as well as the line of them approaching. He nodded to the merchant, and he took most of the weight as she stepped down.

  Who paid for moving goods from the caravan coral to the caravan’s marketpce within the city was always a contentious subject. Merchant expected that to be part of the what the caravan master charged them when joining, but they, too, wanted to part with as little coins as possible. No two caravans Tibs had traveled with handled it the same way, and none had had a system which resulted in everyone being pleased.

  He and the merchant were halfway to where her four previous crates were waiting when Graiden called out.

  “Listen up.” He now stood on his and Rigel’s wagon. “The city guards are going to be here with the carts to take charge of the coral. That’s when your duties for this leg of the journey official end. Go see Rigel for your pay, then you can do as you please. For anyone interested, I have needs of four volunteers.”

  Tibs gnced in the guard chief’s direction, and as expected, the man was looking at him. He shook his head. He already had pns.

  “This isn’t part of your previous duties, so you’ll still collect your pay beforehand. The work is for a quarter of each day, so you’ll be free the rest of the time.”

  “I’m in,” a man called out

  “Me too,” a woman echoed.

  No one else sounded out, but when he gnced again, Graiden was nodding to someone unseen.

  “You have a week, that’s nine days, for those of you who can’t make the transtion, and then we leave. I need your name on the sign-up sheet by the end of the day in eight days, if you’re returning to your duties. Keep in mind that your name on that sheet doesn’t mean we’re going to wait for you, or pull you out of whatever trouble you nd yourself in. If you aren’t here when we leave with the sun in ten days, this is your home.”

  Jeers sounded from the guards, with warnings to watch what they drank, who they bedded, and others prociming they’d never miss the departures. Despite the reassurances, Tibs knew some of them wouldn’t be there. It was easy to fall victim to everything a city had to offer and either get in trouble, nding in a cell, or so enamored one forgot the deadline.

  Especially with those for whom this was their first time to a city not their own.

  Tibs had fallen victim to such charms on his first caravan, and the cell had held him past the deadline he’d promised the guard captain he wouldn’t miss. The trouble he’d nded himself in also meant that when he finally escaped it, he couldn’t remain in the city. It had been his first time traveling the wild unprepared for it since his escape from the guild and had been a reminder of why he’d traveled with caravan since. He’d been haggard when he reach the next vilge and had stayed there until another caravan passed by.

  “I’ll see those of you coming back in eight days, and those smart enough to stay out of trouble two days ter. Enjoy your stay in Tarven.”

  Tibs found other merchants to help until all the carts had taken the good heading to the market. He was in no hurry. He had eight days to work out if he’d stay in this city. He was among the st to go to Rigel.

  “Don’t enjoy yourself so much you aren’t with us when we leave, Tyborg,” the man said, jovially, offering the coin pouch.

  “I might not be back.” The pouch was taken away before Tibs reached for it. “I have business in the city.”

  “You didn’t say anything about this before.”

  Tibs shrugged. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

  “What if I increase your pay? It’d be worth it for another leg as peaceful as this one. Not even one hungry animal bothered us.”

  Tibs chuckled. “You’re putting a lot on me, sir, considering how many guards you hire.”

  “Very few of them have a habit of walking into the wilderness when we stop for the night.”

  “I enjoy the quiet.” It had also become the only way he could keep people from bothering him when he trained his essence work, or needed to practice a new etching.

  Rigel smiled. “Of course, that’s all there is to it.” He bounced the coin pouch in his hand. “I’m willing to go as far as doubling your pay.”

  He shook his head. “If my business pans out, I’ll have to stay. If it doesn’t, I’ll know before you leave and sign up again.”

  The man looked at Tibs suspiciously. “Can your business really pay more than I would?”

  Tibs smiled. “If it pans out, no money will match what I get out of it.”

  With a saddened nod, Rigel handed him the pouch. Tibs attached it to his belt without confirming its content. He could sense the metal in it, and felt roughly like what he’d been promised. But it was more the fact caravan masters who cheated their guards didn’t keep their business. Sometimes didn’t even keep their lives.

  The coins he got for this part of the trip would see him in a simple room, in a modest part of the city for well over a year, including reasonable food. Not that money would be a problem if he decided to settle here. Even if the guild didn’t let him keep much of what he earned from the runs, there were ample employment opportunities in a city like this. He could even resort to be a city guard if he wanted to keep Tyborg’s identity out of trouble. Caravan guards had an easy time being hired by cities.

  The room he settled on was in a better than modest part of the city. He’d either be gone well before he noticed the drop in his coins, or money wouldn’t be a problem anymore even if he didn’t visit the noble’s homes in the night.

  Omega Runners didn’t usually make much from their runs, but his knowledge of how the guild worked and his hidden strength would let him and his team exit with enough to survive on.

  His goal, in choosing this room, was to create the impression of someone who had the coins to buy their way into being a runner. Although for that impression to become real, he’d need to acquire more coins. Because the guild couldn’t own those who paid their way in, it did what it could to take a much of their coins beforehand. It sometimes lead to them having to indentured themselves for the continued training, and the guild considered that another victory.

  But that would only be a consideration if he could approach the dungeon.

  That had always turned out to be the problem.

  How local guild chapters controlled who went in and out varied from city to city, but they all did. They didn’t want the training grounds to be filled with folks who stood around gawking. Have the stalls supposedly selling dungeon goods, crowded by folks without the coins to buy what was there. Even stepping to the gate, wishing to become a Runner, didn’t guarantee access.

  His first approach happened in the night. Not as a thief, but as one of the many people who worked even when the sun was no longer there. Cities never seemed to do more than slow, once the sun went down.

  Dressed in worker’s clothes, and with a bag of tools over his shoulder, he approached the mountain side of the city.

  This city had settled enough away from the mountain, he wasn’t sure if the dungeon’s influence reached it. If it didn’t pass the wall that divided the guild owned area from the rest of the city, he’d have to go in with less information than he hoped.

  Even if he talked with the dungeon, it didn’t mean he’d learn much, or even get a response. Some dungeons had had an…extreme reaction to being engaged in conversation.

  Tibs expected that for many decades, the city kept its building away from the wall; there was a marked difference in the construction when he was eight blocks away. Cities needed to grow if they wanted to thrive, and try as they might, they were pulled toward the wealth the dungeon and the guild represented.

  He could already sense barracks, training buildings, as well as the guild’s administrative one. What he’d considered ‘The Guild,’ back in Kragle Rock, before he understood that all such building did was oversee with functioning of this one dungeon and reted businesses. The person in charge of it could do more or less as they pleased, so long as their pses didn’t cause the higher ups in the guild to notice.

  As Tibs had experienced, they could get away with a lot before anyone noticed.

  Other than adventurers patrolling the area, it was empty of people. This was one of those where the gates to the area closed when the dungeon closed its door.

  “Well.” The voice was low, and the word stretched as if they were waking up. “That isn’t something I’ve seen before.”

  Tibs looked around to confirm he was the only one there. “Hello.” He was three blocks away from the wall, and the mountain was… far behind that. He climbed to a roof. To ensure no one would disturb him.

  “What is it?” a second voice said.

  He still didn’t know what how for its influence reached meant, in retion to how many floors it had. He’d yet to be able to get into a dungeon since Sto, and the dungeons who had been willing to speak with him hadn’t told him how deep they reached, even when he asked directly.

  The closest he’d gotten from one of them was a mocking ‘come in and find out’.

  “Him,” the dungeon said.

  “Hello,” Tibs repeated.

  Addressing the dungeon was always a risk. The first time he’d done it, he’d been away from people, because he’d expected them to freak out at someone having a conversation with nothing. He hadn’t expected the dungeon to freak out to the point of closing its door and trapping the Runners inside.

  Twenty teams had been inside, he ter learned. He’d tried to expin he wasn’t a threat, he certainly wasn’t them, but nothing he said would convince it. It took three days after he’d left its influence before it opened its doors.

  No team came out.

  He’d always engaged them at night since. The door was already closed, so he couldn’t endanger anyone.

  “Oh. What is he?” the helper asked.

  “I’m Tibs.”

  “If you don’t know, then he’s a mystery.”

  “I wasn’t told they could have more than one element. You think he’ll come in?”

  “That is what I’m hoping to do.”

  “That would…”

  Tibs waited. They’d finally realized he was addressing them. Now came their reaction at something they considered impossible.

  “Is he talking to you?” the helper whispered.

  “No.” The response had a bit of an edge to it.

  “I am. I’m not a threat.”

  The silence stretched.

  “What are you?” the dungeon asked tentatively. That was a good sign. Those that panicked rarely started by asking questions.

  “I’m Tibs. I’ve been a Runner. I’m hoping to be one again.”

  “Can we handle someone like him?” the helper asked.

  “The sixth floor, maybe. We’re going to have to do something specific for him.”

  “You know you can’t. Not unless everyone on his team is like him and then you’re going to need a way to ensure only his team has to go through that.”

  “True.”

  Tibs didn’t point out he would do the runs as if he was an Omega, and then only with the essence he picked when he was ready for an audience. When he’d tried to expin what he was doing, the dungeons hadn’t understood, or believed him. Even those who had understood that there was a structure to how the Runners entered, and what happened in the area around them, didn’t understand what the guild was about, or what it meant for Tibs to operate under its rules.

  But this wasn’t about that. “How do people become Runners?”

  “They survive my floors.” There was a tone of ‘don’t you already know that,’ which comforted Tibs. If they could be dubious about him, the chances they’d freak out were lower.

  “That’s how they gain strength. To become Runners, they have to apply to the guild.”

  “It seems like you already know.”

  “Are you trying to trick us? Is this a test?” the helper asked.

  “Do those who sent you come and test me?”

  “I haven’t been told about that happening,” it replied, “but they wouldn’t if I’m not supposed to prepare you for it.”

  “I’m not—my situation’s complicated. Yes, I know I have to apply, but I don’t know what is the application process for this guild is. I’m hoping you do.”

  “He’s talking about the sorting,” the helper said, sounding like it was a revetion. “But you have an element…many of them. Why would they need to sort you?”

  Tibs’s chuckle came out mixed with the sigh. “That’s part of the complication.” It made sense they wouldn’t pay attention to that. Or might even not know how to understand that part. “How about the gate? Can you tell me about the weaves that’s on it?” every gate had magic protecting it. Ranging from something to warn the guards if a visitor entered with an unapproved weapon to something that might let them see what each magical item someone wore was.

  The urge to rub his left wrist increased.

  “It’s a complex one,” the dungeon said. “It’s set to respond to an item those standing on each side have. I’ve seen them make it impenetrable. I’ve seen them block just one person while others kept moving through.”

  “Can it detect other weaves?”

  Again, he ignored the urge to scratch at the brand. He couldn’t decide if it was his imagination, from Bardik and Alistair reaching for their left wrist when the brands were mentioned, or a reaction included in its weave. All he knew was that if it got to be too much, a purity weave made the itch go away.

  “I don’t know. It’s a people weave. I’ve never recreated it, so I don’t know what it’s made to do.”

  Tibs nodded. Something about how dungeons worked with essence meant they didn’t have to do the kind of research Tibs had. He’d learned enough that when he sensed simple weaves, he could sometimes work out what it might do from how the Arcanus were positioned. The lines of the weave itself could tell him more.

  Dungeon simply knew about essence and how to use it.

  “If I reach your door now, would you let me in?”

  “That isn’t how it’s done.”

  “But would you be willing to do it? Just me against your floors. It should mean you don’t have to make as many changes.”

  “It would…”

  “Baricron,” the helper warned.

  “I know. He needs to follow the rules.”

  Tibs stood. “Alright. I’ll see about registering tomorrow, and see how it goes.”

  They didn’t respond, and soon, Tibs figured he’d exited the dungeon’s influence and he wouldn’t hear their response.

  AnnouncementBottom Rung is avaible on KU: https://amzn.to/3ShmXzW

  You can read the previous arc in Tibs story here

  Do you have opinions and suggestions? feel free to leave them in the comments.

  Thank you for reading this chapter.

  If you want to watch me writing this story, I do so on Twitch: https://v/thetigerwrites Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, from 8 AM to 11:30 EST

  If you want to read ahead, you can do so by finding Stepping Wild, on Ream Stories where the story is multiple chapters ahead even at the lowest tier, and the support helps ensure I can work with a minimum of real-life interruption.