“Nature will bear the closest inspection. She invites us to lay our eye level with her smallest leaf, and take an insect view of its plain” -- Henry David Thoreau

  Ornthalas Ravaric was not having a good day. He’d had worse, but it had started out annoying and looked to be going downhill from there. He’d awoken, blearily, in a rather rough inn in a small village, and it had taken a moment to recall the details of where he was and what he was doing. The rope frame bed and straw mattress had left him a bit sore and a little itchy, though some basic cleaning magic ensured that he hadn’t picked up any parasites, at least. He reflexively ran a tanned hand through his shaggy, dark brown hair at the thought. He was three weeks into his standard circuit of fifteen dungeons in the region along the eastern shore of the mid-sized elven kingdom of Zaipruniel and on the final homestretch.

  Home again in two days, then I should have two weeks until I have to set out again. Wonder who else will be around at the Guild?

  Not a lot to look forward to really, except a break. It had been a few years since he’d last had a significant other, and the life of an Adventuring Guild Dungeon Inspector didn’t really lend itself to stable relationships.

  He’d gone down to a disappointing cold breakfast of some indeterminate gruel and some fruit, only to discover he’d received a summons from the local guildmaster in his home city, a short trip away. Skipping the last two dungeons on the circuit to come back sooner, shouldn’t be an issue, though the break in his routine was annoying. Gray eyes narrowed in thought, he shook his head and sighed.

  The dungeons came and went, with some destroyed and others arising, but that tended to happen rarely, and most of his dungeons were stable ones that changed only gradually over decades. The newer ones were more apt to develop faster and/or need destroying, but his were mostly older and didn’t really warrant being checked as often as he did. That said, they weren’t particularly ancient either, mostly under 100 years old and with fewer than 10 floors.

  That will mean bailing on the 5th level kobold dungeon and the 7th level ratfolk dungeon. Should be fine. Still, calling me home early likely isn’t good news, for me or in general. Could be a few things. Maybe I’m getting promoted. *Ha! * More likely they’ve got more work for me that couldn’t wait. Maybe Fylsson finally retired and they’re dumping some of his dungeons on me? I guess I’ll find out in a couple of hours.

  *******************************************

  It was raining. Because of course it was raining. This close to Thilona, the roads were reasonably well maintained and paved with smooth white stones. The footing was slick, but at least it wasn’t muddy, and Orn made good time, dodging the occasional farmer and other travelers. He might have gone faster on horseback, but needing to spend days inside a dungeon meant riding beasts weren’t terribly practical. Still, the movement skills offered to a reasonably high leveled ranger meant he could make the last 25 miles or so in under 3 hours without straining himself.

  Pulling up at the gates of the city well before noon, he cast a discerning eye over the glistening marble walls – some 60 feet tall and enchanted for durability and the repelling of evil – noting no signs of activity beyond the standard guard patrols.

  Well, nothing too large scale going on, at any rate. I didn’t figure they’d be mobilizing their forces, but it’s always good to pay attention.

  Approaching the open portcullis and the pair of guards checking over incoming travelers, he was hailed by the taller of the two, who waved off his move to pull out his identifying insignia.

  “Hey Orn, you’re back early?”

  The large, red-haired guard, Lysanthir, always seemed like he might have a touch of human in his background, standing over 1.8 m tall, but there’s no polite way to ask about someone’s racial background, and not much point either. The local sylvan elves didn’t hold many real prejudices toward their sapient neighbors, all things considered. Some stereotypes, but nothing too severe.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Hey Lys. Yeah, Guildmaster called me in; I’ll be headed straight there. It’d be nice to get a day off, but it doesn’t look like it’ll be in the cards. You heard anything?”

  Town guards are always up on the latest gossip, since there’s not a whole lot else for them to do on gate duty, as a general rule. Lys gave him a quick once over, noting some general wear on Orn’s sturdy, practical gear, and shook his head.

  “No, not anything that would likely involve your services, at any rate. Cyrada’s taken up with Vaeril, but you and she haven’t been a thing for several years, right?”

  Orn winced at the mention of his ex, and shook his head, too.

  “No. She didn’t have much patience for a partner who was on the road most of the time. I’ll wish them luck, if I run into them.”

  Lys gave him a sympathetic grin. “Well, assuming you’ve got nothing to declare, you’re free to head on in”.

  **********************************************

  The Guildhall wasn’t far from the main gate, near the main market area of town and away from the main residential areas. The building itself wasn’t particularly impressive, though well maintained, fitting neatly with the overall aesthetic of wood frame structures with white stone facing and some carving for aesthetics. Like most elven cities, Thilona incorporated natural vegetation to a significant degree, with even the main boulevards shaded by large trees in a staggered, natural-appearing pattern and bordered with extensive grassy and landscaped plantings. Orn paused a moment to gather his thoughts and admire the town before pushing through the main doors of the Guildhall.

  **********************************************

  It was a good time to stop in. He’d missed the early morning rush from the local adventurers picking up quests and heading out, but he was early enough to avoid them coming back to check in. That meant there was no line to check in with the receptionist. Kylantha flirted with him briefly, but in a perfunctory way that he knew was simply her manner of dealing with adventurers. She had no information for Orn and simply waved him back and up the stairs to the Guildmaster’s office.

  Knocking politely on the door, he garnered a quick response.

  “That you Orn? Come on in.”

  He'd never been quite sure what skills the Guildmaster used, but he’d also never seen her guess wrong as to who was at the door. He assumed some sort of detection skill, or possibly an overpowered identification, but the options were many and varied. Possibly she just recognized footsteps and knocking patterns?

  “Yeah, it’s me. You wanted to see me, Saria?”

  Saria Farfaren rose from behind her desk, the slim, blonde high elf as ageless as ever. Even in her no-nonsense, day-to-day leathers she was startlingly attractive, even for an elf, in an inherently dangerous way. Orn assumed her Charisma was ridiculously high, and it undoubtedly served her well in heading the guild branch here. Her pale green eyes glinted briefly as he shook off her passive effect, and she smiled tensely.

  “Yes. I hate to do this to you, but we’ve got a new dungeon emerging, and I need you to go check it out”.

  That was a bit odd. New dungeons weren’t common, but they weren’t so rare that waiting a couple of days for him to return would normally be a problem.

  “What’s the catch? Why the hurry?”, he asked plaintively. “I’m guessing since my circuit was cut short, I’m not getting a day off first?”

  She winced. “Sorry, no. The problem is transportation. This isn’t one you’re going to be able to walk to.”

  Orn wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. There are dungeons high in the mountains that might take a while to get to, and ones in the depths of the oceans, but those belong to the selkies, locally. But ones he might be responsible for and that he couldn’t walk to? That only left one option.

  “Aw, seriously? The sky island? It’s in our area of responsibility now? That’s going to wreck my schedule. *Sigh* Alright, give me the details, but I’m going to go ahead and ask now for some vacation time when I get back...”

  “Deal. Here’s what we know...”