1.

  Yew’s Rise was a four day carriage ride northeast of Old Narluc. Alisanne spent the entire time brooding, reading, and looking out the window.

  Frustrated by her loss – which had been totally preventable if she’d just been paying better attention – she’d spent the entirety of the first day on the road with her head buried in her [Fighter] manual, angrily flipping page after page in the hopes of finding a skill that she could learn to prevent such a thing from happening again.

  In an ideal world, she would have found some sort of healing skill like [Mend Wounds] or a status detection skill – something like [Scan Body], which would have noticed the little bug on her leg in the ribs – but her book didn’t have any. [Fighters] weren’t big on healing, apparently. The closest thing she found were skills that could be used to ignore pain or injury for some period of time, like [Shrug it Off] and [Defiant Endurance], but Alisanne wasn’t particularly interested. They were higher level skills – commonly learned around level 30 – and while she could have probably managed to learn them early if she wanted to, the struggle of going out of sequence for a skill that would simply make her better at the thing she was intentionally trying to avoid was unappealing.

  Given that, she didn’t even bother trying to find any sort of poison resistance or mitigation skills. If her class couldn’t be bothered to offer her ways of healing off the most common adversities she’d encounter, the odds of it having something for status diagnostic purposes were virtually nonexistent. Maybe there’d be something at like level fifty or sixty, but Alisanne was increasingly convinced that Nock had been right about her class holding her back and that she needed to seriously consider a replacement.

  As a result, Alisanne had spent the first day of the carriage ride stretched out on her bigger, comfier seat – she’d paid an extra dozen silver fleurs for a private bench, which was luxuriously comfortable – looking at the other adventurers she was riding with between fits of reading and trying to decide if it was worth striking up a conversation with any of them about their primary classes.

  Ultimately she decided against it; she had no interest in swords or bows, which ruled out almost three quarters of the other passengers, but even the few other blunt weapon bearers that she could have talked to didn’t spark her curiosity.

  For the time being she reconciled herself to simply having to keep her eyes and ears open in the hopes of something interesting coming across her path.

  During the second day, Alisanne pressed her forehead into the glass of the window and stared at the world going by. Say this for the land they were passing through: it was prettier than any Alisanne had seen so far, with well-maintained fields of shimmering sapphire chimeglass that looked like it was as tall as her waist and tinkled with every breeze.

  They passed a wide variety of other carriages, ranging from gaudy private vehicles pulled by well-bred horses to sturdy industrial wagons carrying stacks of sealed wooden crates. Naturally, they were also passed in turn by all manner of beasts – mostly elemental horses with manes of fire or lightning, but also two scaled and dirty groundsharks with ragged fins and hungry eyes – and classholders who needed no mount to move with incredible speed.

  “Freaking [Couriers], a lightly armored human sitting in front of Alisanne grumbled when one such fellow, an obnoxiously blue salamander with a pair of fluffy wings sticking out of his shoulders, zipped past and disappeared over the horizon. “I’d give my right hand for speed like that.”

  “You could always just eat bugs for fun,” a kitrekin to his left answered. “Because I promise you that’s ninety percent of the experience.”

  The armored man laughed, and Alisanne cracked a smile too.

  Another benefit of being on busier roads was that there were actual rest stops along the way for the carriage to stop at. They were small buildings made of stone, with red tile roofs and a few decorative bushes scattered here and there. They really weren’t anything special in terms of how they looked, but as far as Alisanne was concerned they were fit for a [King].

  And actually, speaking of [Kings], according to an informational placard at the first rest area they’d stopped at, all of the little buildings and their associated plumbing had been the idea of a long-since-dead [King] named Rigel, who’d wanted to provide amenities for the “thousands of pilgrims who would undoubtedly cross the continent to come and worship at the feet of his burgeoning divinity.”

  Alisanne shook her head. “Must have been a [Mad King].”

  Hmm. Rigel…Rigel. Alisanne thought it over. Had she ever heard of him? Nope, but she thought it was rather funny, in a morbid sort of way, that the placard – apparently unironically – mentioned the fact that Rigel had been equal parts far-sighted and short-lived.

  “Definitely a [Mad King],” Alisanne said, walking away to go and grab some coffee from the cheerfully plump [Merchant] who was selling her wares from a small kiosk nearby.

  In addition to coffee there were plenty of snacks for sale, and after a bit of [Polite Bargaining] – a skill she’d learned when her [Scrimping Saver] class hit level ten – Alisanne handed over a handful of bronze fleurs in exchange for a few sausages, a small block of yellow cheese, and three bags of differently colored raisins that were all small enough to fit in her pocket with room to spare.

  “You ever think about becoming a [Merchant], girl?” the woman asked with a friendly smile as she scooped the coins into a bag beneath her counter. “We’re always looking for young talent and you’ve got the head for it, for sure.”

  Alisanne returned the smile but demurred. “That’s kind of you to say but I’m afraid I don’t have much of a knack for the numbers that come along with it. I’m just used to making every fleur count.”

  That prompted the woman to laugh out loud. “Anyone can learn numbers if they put their mind to it, my dear. What you’ve got is a nose for a bargain, and that can’t be taught. Here, take my card, and if you decide that fighting inside dungeons isn’t actually how you want to spend your life feel free to send me a letter. Tell me you’re the girl who knocked four bronzies off a thirteen spend at Azalea’s Thronestop and I’ll remember you.”

  Promising to do so if that happened, though she didn’t share the [Merchant]’s optimism with regard to learning numbers, Alisanne thanked the woman and went on her way. The cheese was slightly softer than she would have liked, but that was offset by the sausage, which was a touch too hard.

  At least the raisins were as good as she could have hoped for.

  With her belly full for the moment, Alisanne stretched out and practiced her [Twirling Block] some more, trying to incorporate her second club. The skill hadn’t been useful at all in the Ribs, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be useful in the dungeons ahead and Alisanne was determined to win her next three runs.

  She got her clubs out and planted her feet, holding her arms straight in front of her body. Having the skill learned properly with her right hand was a boon to her efforts, since she already knew the trick of swat and pop. Now it was just a matter of getting her left hand to cooperate too, which was proving to be more difficult than she’d been expecting. Her non-dominant hand was slow and clumsy, and her fingers couldn’t get out of their own way when she tried to finish the second half of the skill.

  Still, she was basically perfect with her right hand now, and could even maintain the skill for three complete revolutions.

  After a decent number of double spin failures, Alisanne decided to change direction and focus instead on moving while keeping the skill active. That would probably be useful in more situations, like if she got pinned down by another ranged enemy like she had by that living painting inside the Ribs.

  Activating [Twirling Block], Alisanne carefully took a breath and stepped forward, only for the skill to immediately get canceled on account of her club’s balance getting thrown off. She tried again and again, ultimately managing to successfully slide her foot a few inches forward along the ground without deactivating the skill before the [Carriage Driver] called a return to the road.

  That was good enough for now, progress-wise. Alisanne would have to practice more later. She wanted to be able to take at least ten steps before going into the Yew’s Rise dungeon. Ideally she’d get it to a point where she could move “freely” with it active, but that was probably still a ways beyond her grasp.

  But how long would that be true? With diligent practice, Alisanne knew she could improve. In fact, as she put her clubs away and got back into the carriage for the next leg of her journey, she decided that she’d have it down by the time she reached Shontsdale, which was the final city of the dungeon circuit.

  She settled into her seat and waited for it to start rolling once again. If, somehow, she managed to figure movement out faster than she expected, maybe she’d even go back to trying to use both clubs at once again.

  Forward momentum, that was the name of the game.

  2.

  Much like Old Narluc, Yew’s Rise was close to a forest. Unlike Old Narluc, the forest leading to Yew’s Rise was a thing of beauty and majesty. Towering old trees – some so big around that they’d take multiple minutes for Alisanne to jog around – shared space with smaller ones, their branches splayed like hands reaching for the sky and their needle-leaves every shade of green imaginable.

  In addition to the trees there were berry bushes that were heavy with red and purple berries. Some of the other adventurers scooped handfuls into their mouths when the carriage made an impromptu rest-stop to repair a cracked wheel, but Alisanne was wary of poison and refrained from joining them until a kitrekin adventurer who was originally from Yew’s Rise assured her that they were safe.

  “They’re rumberries,” he explained, popping one into his mouth and closing his eyes to savor its flavor. A bit of juice dribbled down his chin. “They’re quite popular in Yew’s Rise, though they tend to be baked or boiled into dishes first. Trust me, you’ll regret it if you don’t try a fresh one.”

  Alisanne took his advice and was glad for it; the rumberry was pleasantly sweet, though it did leave an afterburn when she swallowed that made obvious the reason for the berry’s namesake. Intensity-wise it was no match for the emberberries of Oar’s Crest – which could, under the right circumstances, literally allow you to breath flames for a few seconds – but Alisanne didn’t judge any of her fellow adventurers who started spluttering or gagging after trying more than a handful.

  Unfortunately, the carriage’s cracked wheel was simply the first logistical issue they ran into as they drew closer to Yew’s Rise. Shortly after the city itself became visible in the distance, a bright collage of red and blue roofs nestled on the side of a small mountain just above the treeline, the carriage came to a stop unexpectedly.

  Along with several of the other passengers, Alisanne readied one of her weapons on the slim chance that there were [Bandits] nearby. Such a thing in a place like this was extremely unlikely but it never hurt to be prepared for the worst and pleasantly surprised when it failed to pass.

  The odds proved true in this case; it was not [Bandits] that approached the carriage in the following moments but instead a group of burly kitrekin [Lumberjacks]. At least, Alisanne assumed they were [Lumberjacks]; they were wearing flannel shirts and carrying large saws on their shoulders.

  “Our apologies,” the leader of the group, a kitrekin with red fur, hollered, “But the road up ahead is blocked. Big ole tree came down this morning, and it’s going to take us a few days to get it cleared out of the way. Your passengers are welcome to use the lifts in our camp to get into the city, but it’s a few miles from here and they’re going to have to hoof it.”

  Plenty of grumbling followed that, but Alisanne found that she didn’t mind all that much. After so much riding in the carriage, it’d be nice to get some exercise and walk a little bit. A few miles wouldn’t be too bad, even carrying all her stuff.

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  She was one of the first adventurers out, slinging her various bags onto her shoulders and setting off in the direction one of the [Lumberjacks] pointed out to her.

  The road was crisp and well-maintained, with small decorative stones evenly spaced along its sides. Despite its gentle slope, Alisanne found the walk pleasant, and unlike her hurrying peers was in no rush to reach the [Lumberjack] camp.

  Warm and friendly birdsong filled the air around her, and the [Fighter] took great solace in how cheerful it sounded. She quite liked birds, but only really ever got the chance to see crows in Oar’s Crest, so she paused now and then to try and get a better look at the tiny creatures as they fluttered by over her head. Unfortunately they were too quick for her to properly identify them, but Alisanne didn’t really mind. After the unsettling nature of the forest outside Old Narluc she was simply happy to be in a place that was calm and relatively normal.

  When she got a bit deeper into the woods and saw the tree that was blocking their path she better understood why the road had been closed. It was bigger than the carriage was tall, and a veritable army of kitrekin [Lumberjacks] working in groups of two or three and armed with some of the biggest saws and axes Alisanne had ever seen. They pulled and pushed in unison, singing loudly while they chopped and split the massive tree into more manageable chunks.

  Where there’s wood there’s work, or at least that’s what they say

  But in Yew’s Rise we don’t see it that way

  Hopping from trunk to branch like we were born to live in trees is fun

  And when we hold our saws steady, our work is quickly done

  Aye lads, swing those axes, swing them good and hard

  I’d rather be in the forest than in my own front yard!

  Where there’s wood there’s work, or at least that’s what they say

  But we kitrekins of Yew’s Rise see it instead as play!

  Alisanne came up to a pair of ginger kitrekins who had derpy expressions but worked fast enough to make her wonder if they perhaps shared some sort of telepathic link. Like [Twinspeak] or something similar…or their perfect synchronicity didn’t make much sense.She thought about asking, but just before she could one of them hollered, “[Sprintstroke]!” and their pace quickened further, causing them both to begin panting for breath. Alisanne decided that she was better off leaving them to their work; her curiosity wasn’t as important as what they were doing.

  Just past them was a ladder of sorts made of large iron stakes that had been driven into the tree’s side. Rivulets of golden sap dripped down to the ground and formed thick puddles, only to be collected into jars by another [Lumberjack] who was the sole kitrekin that looked like she wasn’t having any fun that Alisanne could see.

  She met Alisanne’s eyes and shook her head. “You break one little saw and you’re on sap gathering duty for the next month. It’s just not fair.”

  Alisanne smiled kindly and grabbed the makeshift ladder to start climbing. “I’m sure you’ll be back to chopping trees in no time.”

  “Your lips to Gawain’s ears,” the kitrekin grumbled, bending down to scoop some of the sap into her jar with the help of a long wooden spoon.

  There were a few other kitrekins on the other side of the tree, and one of them was more than happy to point Alisanne in the direction of their camp. It was just another mile or so through the trees, he explained, and there was a nice clear path for Alisanne to follow.

  Alisanne’s shoulders were starting to ache from all her bags by the time she got to the camp, which was far bigger than she’d been expecting. Really it was more of a settlement, with big permanent buildings and the signs of long use. The smells of campfire smoke, roasting meat, and alcohol were heavy in the air, and Alisanne marveled at the towering piles of logs stacked on the far side of the camp.

  The occupants she could see were almost entirely kitrekins, but there were a few humans and salamanders too, and they sat shoulder to shoulder with the other [Lumberjacks], smiling and clapping each other on the back as they told bawdy jokes and munched on various types of food. Mostly scrambled eggs, as far as Alisanne could see.

  There was a group of four or five adventurers standing next to a large wooden platform near a wide valley that led to a steep hill, and Alisanne joined them with a nod and a few pleasantries. They all looked tired and like they could use a bath, but to be fair Alisanne suspected she probably did too; while the journey had been far more pleasant than the one to Old Narluc, traveling still lacked the comforts of home.

  Nobody seemed inclined to proper conversation, and so Alisanne and the rest of the adventurers simply loitered around waiting for further instructions.

  A few awkward minutes later, a scrawny salamander carrying a thin saw that was almost as tall as he was walked over. He was smiling warmly, and gestured to the thick rope up over their heads that was wiggling like a snake.

  “Platform should be along in a few minutes,” he said. “You hear that hum in the trees? That’s the sound the lift makes when it’s getting close.”

  “You expect us to trust this thing?” a human adventurer asked. “It looks like it’d snap if I jumped up and grabbed it.”

  The salamander laughed. “Aye, the first time I took the lift I thought the same thing. But fear not, lad, the rope is enchanted and won’t snap even if all of you jump around on the lift like you’re wild animals.”

  He paused for a moment, then added, “Though I wouldn’t recommend that. If you jump around you might fall off and end up as some beastie’s dinner.”

  Laughing to himself, the salamander walked away, and sure enough a few minutes later the lift slid into view. It was a big raft made of logs, lashed together at both ends with rope that was the same color as the one it hung from, if a bit thinner. Two bands of metal braced its sides, providing the barest hint of a lip to hold its cargo in place.

  Not much of a hedge against falling off, Alisanne thought darkly as she stepped onto the raft and was herded into the center by the lift’s operator. Her heart leapt into her throat when the platform lurched into motion – a vision of herself falling down into the valley flashed through her eyes – but thankfully the lift stabilized after a few seconds and the ride was smooth after that.

  The operator explained that they used the lifts to take logs up from the camp to the city, where they would be handled by the multitude of woodcraft guilds in the city.

  “Best [Carpenters] on the continent live here in Yew’s Rise,” the operator said, his voice filled with pride. “You’re all about to see some real masters of their craft, I tell you what.”

  3.

  Wooden buildings of all shapes and sizes as far as the eye could see greeted Alisanne when she stepped off the lift some time later. Some were ornate, with curved roofs and elaborately patterned walls while others were simply logs stacked atop each other with holes for windows carved out. The air smelled strongly of sawdust, and Alisanne could hear no fewer than a dozen songs playing from every direction.

  Beyond that, there were people – kitrekins mostly, with a decent number of humans too – walking around with tools on their backs or belts. Yew’s Rise was a working city, that much was clear, and Alisanne saw things many things for the first time as she followed the big signs directing adventurers to the local branch of the adventurer’s guild.

  The streets were somewhat narrower than she expected, but they were all perfectly straight and clean to boot. Carriages rolled along them slowly, almost all of them packed to the brim with various building materials.

  At the sound of shouting, Alisanne stopped and looked to her right, where there seemed to be an auction of sorts happening in a large yard. Absolutely gigantic golden logs were stacked in a pyramid in the center, and a kitrekin wearing overalls and a silly hat stood atop it.

  “Finest Blossomgold logs you’ll see this year, buckos!” he cried, waving his arms madly. “Freshly harvested from the northern groves and rated S-Rank by their [Archdruid]. I promise anything you make from these beauties will sell for five times your normal price. At a minimum! You might even be able to get ten times or more! This wood is just that good! Now, obviously such trees are extremely valuable, so let’s go ahead and start the bidding at two platinums!”

  A well-dressed human raised his arm, and then it was off to the races. By the time the auctioneer finally declared the first log sold the price had reached three and a half platinum fleurs. It was truly a staggering amount of money; Alisanne could hardly believe her ears. After all, a single platinum fleur was more than her entire family would earn in a decade, so the prospect of a tree costing three and a half times that was astonishing.

  Just when she thought it couldn’t get any crazier, the next tree, which must have been larger and thicker than the first, started its bidding at five platinum, and when the flurry of bidding on it was even higher than it’d been for the previous one, Alisanne temporarily feared that her brain might actually explode.

  Who could have guessed that people would pay such prices for wood of all things?!

  “If this adventuring thing doesn’t work out I should try and become a [Lumber Merchant], Alisanne thought. Those guys had to be absolutely rolling in fleurs, and while money wasn’t the end of everything, it was nice to have coins in your pocket when you wanted to spend them.

  Which, speaking of, there was a fruit stand a few blocks past the auction yard and she bought herself a small green apple-looking thing. It was cheap, but also pleasantly sour and refreshing. Much like the rumberries she’d tried earlier, it left her mouth burning pleasantly, and Alisanne gave in to her temptation to go back and buy a handful more.

  Unlike Old Narluc, Alisanne found herself thinking that it might be fun to actually get out and explore Yew’s Rise a little bit. See what else there was to do – and buy – around the city after she checked in with the adventurer’s guild.

  The signs on the streets really were a nice touch, Alisanne thought, as she followed them to the wide and inviting entrance of the guildhall. A crowd of adventurers, their armor and weapons caked with mud and blood stood outside, grinning like fools as a towering salamander with a wooden prosthetic arm handed out bulging bags of coin.

  “A fine hunt, lads! A fine hunt! It’s not every day that an ironskinned behemoth gets brought down by such a ragtag bunch of ruffians! Now don’t go wasting it all in less than a week, eh? We don’t have another hunt till next month!”

  The adventurers cheered, though Alisanne couldn’t help but shake her head at the ways several shouted that they were planning to spend their money.

  Past the celebration, there were a few more parties inside, talking together and studying maps on the long log tables that filled the guildhall. Here too the city’s woodwork stood out, with immaculately polished tabletops that almost glowed when the light hit them through the hall’s windows.

  Alisanne made her way to the [Receptionist] desk and checked in, delivering Vera’s goods while confirming her upcoming run and asking about accommodations. Much like Old Narluc, there was a list of inns with space for out of town adventurers, and while the rates were a little bit on the high side they weren’t prohibitively expensive by any stretch of the imagination.

  A map of the city in hand, Alisanne headed out, having decided to deposit her bags and gear before going out to enjoy the evening.

  Interestingly, she couldn’t help but notice that one name – Sureclaw – was all over the map. Whoever they were owned various trade buildings, workshops, and also both of the city’s dungeons. The one Alisanne was going to be competing in, which was called “Sureclaw’s Toybox, was barely half the size of “Sureclaw’s Cedarcrown Workshop”.

  Neither really sounded like proper dungeon names, but [Dungeon Masters] all had their own quirks and if things in the city were a family affair there might not have been a ton of flexibility available.

  There was a market up ahead, and Alisanne briefly wandered through, admiring the variety of tools, intermediate trade goods, and trinkets for sale. But by far the coolest part were all the wooden golems. Almost every booth offered some for sale, which ranged in size from smaller than her hand to bigger than anybody she’d ever met and offered a variety of services. There were a bunch designed for household assistance – cooking, cleaning and mail collection were the most common – to larger projects like construction, transportation, and personal protection.

  Some were socketed with gemstones and others had veins of metal running up and down their limbs, but the majority were plain wood of various colors.

  The [Merchants] and [Booth Owners] were all extremely friendly, offering to let Alisanne try any of the golems that caught her eye if she was so inclined. While she didn’t have any interest in the big bodyguard golems on account of their cost, she did let a tiny golem with a music box in her chest run around her palm a bit. The tune it played was an old lullaby that she was quite fond of, and despite the fact that it cost fifteen silver fleurs Alisanne went ahead and bought it.

  Fearing for her coinpurse if she stayed in the market, Alisanne hurried to the inn where she’d be staying and checked in. Her room was bigger than the one she’d had in Old Narluc, but not by much.

  It had a small bed with a nicely decorated headboard, a couch barely big enough for two people, and a small bookshelf filled with shopping pamphlets from local craftsmen. Alisanne flipped through a couple, still stunned but less surprised by the prices listed for various goods. Apparently Yew’s Rise was just an expensive place to live.

  Though she’d originally intended to go out and explore the city a bit more that evening, the sight of the dirt on her skin and the sad state of her hair made Alisanne decide that her actual first priority needed to be taking a bath.

  By the time she felt human again it was starting to get late, and all the fatigue of traveling was starting to make its presence known. She’d take a nice quiet night in instead and go explore tomorrow since her dungeon run wasn’t for another two days.

  Reclining on the little couch, Alisanne grabbed her Alrick novel and the pamphlets Theikal had given her, alternating between sword fights in which every stroke was described in painful levels of detail and diagrams for [Dodge Dance] that definitely needed more explanation than they’d gotten.

  Eventually she came to the realization that she’d just read the same page for at least the fourth time, which meant that it was time for her to go to sleep.