They kept going further and further down. The rat, the one that wasn’t part of the rat king, could be heard behind them, claws scraping stone. Marc kept looking over his shoulder.

  “Is that normal?” he asked

  “Not common, but not a bad sign.” Berk responded. He was still distracted by whatever it was that was on his mind.

  There were forks in the stone and soil tunnels. They differed in size greatly, from large enough for an eighteen-wheeler to fit through to barely large enough for Berk and Marc to go through side-by-side. There were piles of gravel, dirt, and some collapsed rock, but it seemed that the dire moles made their burrows relatively stable. Relatively.

  To avoid wondering if every noise he heard was the tunnels collapsing, he focused instead on the feeling of nausea growing in his stomach. It felt like he’d eaten just a little too much, or gotten off a very bumpy road. If Berk felt the same way, he didn't show it. Only a little later they heard the writhing mass.

  Berk's light spell illuminated another rat king, larger, more vicious, but thankfully less mobile than the first. As they stopped to draw weapons, the singular rat came to their ankles, as if hiding behind them for protection.

  “Heh, yer a smart one, huh,” Berk said, kneeling to pat it fur. The rat recoiled at first but stayed still enough. The older man looked to Marc, eyes growing serious once more. “Regular rats ain't the issue. It's the kings. No one knows how they get made, but once they do they grab as many normal rats as possible, like this one. Add 'em together, and you get a strong disease aura, and a call to me.”

  Marc nodded, axe drawn. The rat nuzzled into Berk's hand. The king in front of them was stuck at one of the narrow sections of the cavern, and it looked like some earth had collapsed onto it as well.

  As Marc and Berk were about to go in for their second fight, the light went out again.

  The elf wound her way through street after alleyway. Her soon-to-be sponsor gave her exact instructions, and made it clear than following them perfectly was needed. If this was a test, it was an annoying one though, seeing as the location they met at was the Graveyard behind the Temple of the Allfaith.

  Nevertheless, she followed it to the letter, standing before a gravestone.

  Barnabas Hough. Cherished Parishioner.

  There was no date, no other information. She didn't detect the Paragon, but he could be standing right in front of her and his Stealth boons would ensure she never knew. Her own Stealth boon was good for city rogues, but certainly far from the best, only hiding her when she was around other people. At higher echelons it would improve or change, depending on what she did with it.

  Depsite that, she was happy that he graveyard was otherwise empty, and removed something from her bag. A small bottle of some alchemical thing was poured over the grave drop by drop. Each time it hit the top of the stone, it soaked into the old marker, transforming it from what it was into a deep brown sludge.

  At the sound of people nearing, she stopped and hid away. As they passed, she continued. It took minutes, and even her patience was waring thin. But she’d make it last. She had to. When it had dissolved completely, the Sharoaa made himself known, standing in a bright spot several feet away.

  “Ah, poor Barnabas.” He said, voice no more than a whisper.

  “Who was he?” She asked, “Cherished Parishioner isn't exactly descriptive.”

  “Oh, he was no one. An old gravestone that blends in with all the others. I put it here a few hours ago.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “So. . .what did we get from this?”

  “The thing you’ve figured out, and the thing that I’ve figured out.”

  After the assault on her patience just before, she was done with riddles, “Can we please get on with this? We have other things to plan.”

  “Patience is a necessity for a Paragon. But, you’ve been very patient, so let me tell you a story of Floods past.” He gestured for her to walk with him, and so they travelled the graveyard. “What do you think the most dangerous monster that spawns during the Flood is?”

  “Dragons?”

  “Across the world, yes. Dragons wreak the most havoc across the most cities, when they are wont to do so. The flood drives them mad, though the strongest can resist it and the weak tend to sleep through it.” He nodded, asking another question, “And what is the most helpful monster?”

  “I. . . guess whatever the largest dire beast there is? For their meat.” Monster and helpful did not belong together, but if she looked at it more pragmatically. . .

  “Not quite, but I see where your head is at. Would you like to guess again?”

  “Not really.”

  “For us, today, it is the humble Dire Mole. Claws strong enough to bore through stone, and an intensified aversion to light. They tend to starve to death once the flood is over, leaving behind large tunnels populated by only pests.”

  “So, we need to find their tunnels?”

  “Oh, no. Their tunnels were made a few floods ago. A slayer explained it to an apprentice this morning. That one you won’t steal from.”

  Berk, he meant. “So, that’s our way in? Not getting in with the crowd.” She asked, somewhat disappointed that her planning was going to waste.

  “You idea was excellent, but what are the streets made of?”

  “Dryadwood, why?”

  “And the queen is a Dryad. I have been experimenting in the canopy. They can tell where we are if we’re on the streets.” Her eyes widened. “We need to go by air, or beneath the roots.”

  She thought to the grave, “We’re getting in through here.”

  “And right into the nobles basements. If i can steal some Half-Salt from the Philosopher who just walked into town, we have a way into the palace as well.”

  The elf nodded. The plan changed, but the end result was the same. Returning to the gravestone of Barnabas, she saw that there was a small hole, right into a large tunnel.

  “Shall we map it out?” he asked.

  The second rat king lay dead on the ground. Most of the fight was done in darkness due to the light spell being countered multiple times. Berk was somewhere between livid and convinced he was going insane.

  “Maybe we should just go back up.” Marc suggested. They had done their job, as far as Marc could tell. Two rat kings slain, and anything larger would also be prevented from going forward by the narrowness of the passageway. Not to mention, his nausea was receding, not growing.

  “Hmm. You ain’t wron’.” He turned and looked back the way they came. The normal rat (Marc was still not used to calling a dog-sized rodent normal, but after the other things he’d seen it was somewhat comforting) was still standing there, looking into the darkness of the tunnels. Berk turned his head towards Marc, “Let’s jus’ check one of the other forks. Jus’ in case.”

  The continued on. The rat actually hopped up onto Berk, who must have allowed it since he had quicker reflexes than anyone Marc knew. Except maybe Fray.

  The duo plus “recruit” went down the closest fork they couldnt see the end of, only to find it became a drop down, far deeper. There were echoes of something coming from below, but Marc felt his stomach settle ever since the second’s death. Berk looked down, and they could see it was a spiral. Probably easy enough for a mole to get into and out of, but it would take a human (or farlander) a lot more time.

  Marc grabbed a rock from nearby and tossed it down. A few seconds later, they heard it splash into water.

  “Well, any rat down there’d be more than we can handle. Back up to the top, ‘spose.”

  As Berk turned around, his light spell went out again. “Damn it to -” Marc heard the sound of Berk getting hit, hard in the chest. The Rat squealed, and Marc felt as it grabbed onto his clothes, clearly jumped from Berk. In the darkness, he couldnt see anything, until he felt a strong impact on his side. He tried to keep his balance, but there was no floor where he stepped. He was tumbling down the chute, feeling his wrist make a hard landing against the far wall, only for him to keep going down. He felt the water wash up and around him, distant walls only illuminated by glowing mushrooms.

  The rat had hung on to him, and was standing atop his head, while Marc was left to tread water in utter darkness.