"Wow," Delilah breathed, her voice tinged with awe as she tilted her head back to take in the towering model of a mammoth exhibit. Its immense, shaggy form loomed above her, frozen mid-stride, its tusks curving like ancient sabers. Her wide eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Could you imagine seeing one of those alive? Walking around, all huge and hairy?"

  She shifted on her toes, craning her neck as if expecting the creature to suddenly come to life, and the smallest hint of a smile played on her lips.

  Altan chuckled, the sound echoing faintly in the cavernous space. "Yeah? What I'd really like to know is how it would taste." He smirked, gesturing toward a bundle of rusted rebar propped up against the exhibit as if to demonstrate ancient ingenuity. "Our ancestors hunted them, mostly for food, I think. Can you imagine hauling one of those back to camp?" His eyes wandered to the thick, woolly coat depicted in the model. "The pelts must've been useful too—warm and tough. They didn’t just walk up to these beasts, though. They used spears to drive them into traps or just kept chasing them until they collapsed from sheer exhaustion."

  He glanced at Delilah, his grin softening as he caught her wide-eyed expression. "Hard to imagine, huh? People had to be clever just to survive back then."

  Delilah nodded, her wide eyes fixed on the towering figure of the mammoth. The thought of facing such a gargantuan beast with nothing more than a wooden spear sent a shiver down her spine. What kind of courage—or desperation—did it take to hunt something so massive?

  Her stomach growled, interrupting her thoughts, and she instinctively clutched at her midsection, her face heating with embarrassment. The idea of mammoth meat had unwittingly stirred her appetite, and she couldn't help but wonder if it tasted like the tough brahmin jerky she was growing accustomed to.

  A pair of travelers lounging against a broken bench nearby exchanged amused looks, their soft chuckles making her flush even deeper. She shot them a fleeting glare, then turned her attention back to the exhibit, pretending she hadn’t noticed.

  “C’mon, Lily. Let’s get settled for the night, then we can tame that beast in your belly.” Altan laughed, his voice carrying a teasing lilt.

  Delilah shot him a sidelong glare, her cheeks still warm from earlier. “It’s not that bad,” she muttered, though her stomach gave another betraying growl.

  Altan’s grin widened as he pushed open a set of heavy double doors beneath a massive stone-carved skull. The sight made Delilah pause, its hollow eye sockets and jagged teeth looming over them like a silent warning.

  Her hesitation only lasted a moment before she followed her brother inside. Immediately, a cacophony of smells assaulted her—rich, savory stew mingled with the sharp sting of unwashed bodies and the sour tang of spilled alcohol. The overwhelming blend made her nose wrinkle, her stomach twisting with both hunger and disgust.

  She instinctively pressed closer to Altan, her eyes scanning the dimly lit concourse for a safe spot to rest. Around them, rough-looking travelers huddled over mismatched tables, their voices low and guarded, while others leaned against walls, their gazes sharp and wary.

  A passing ghoul stopped mid-stride to greet the pair, his raspy chuckle drawing Delilah’s attention. “First time in Underworld?” he rasped, a jagged grin spreading across his scarred face. “You’ll get used to it, smoothskin.”

  Delilah stiffened at the nickname, but before she could reply, the ghoul’s gaze shifted upward, locking onto Altan. The nervous flicker in his yellowed eyes was unmistakable as he took in Altan’s imposing figure—the Brotherhood insignias on his armor, the worn laser rifle slung across his chest, and the arsenal of sidearms strapped to his hips.

  “Ah, hey there, tin can,” the ghoul added quickly, his grin wavering. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, taking a small step back. “We don’t want any trouble.”

  Altan gave a small nod, his expression unreadable beneath his helmet. “Neither do we. Just looking for a place to settle for the night.”

  “Right, right. No trouble,” the ghoul muttered, extending a hand. “Quinn. I’m part of Underworld’s away team.”

  Delilah hesitated before shaking his hand, her grip tentative. “Away team? What does that mean?”

  Quinn chuckled, his voice raspy but friendly. “We’re the ones who head out into the Wasteland to scavenge, trade, and, when necessary, fight. Most folks who come through here are just passing through, looking for a safe place to rest. That helps bring in caps, sure, but it doesn’t keep the water flowing or the vents running. That’s where we come in.”

  Altan gave him a curt nod before extending his own hand. “Right. Well, thanks for the info. We’re going to have a look around.”

  Quinn shook Altan’s hand firmly, though his gaze flickered warily over the Brotherhood insignias again. “Likewise. I need to get back to work, but if you’re looking to trade, check out Underworld Outfitters.” He gestured to a shop nearby. “Tulip runs it and can help you with supplies. If you’re after food or a room, Carol’s Place upstairs has both. And if you’re looking for muscle...” He inclined his head toward the opposing staircase. “Try the Ninth Circle. Just be careful around Ahzrukhal. He’s... complicated.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Got it,” Altan said. Delilah nodded quietly beside him, filing the names away.

  “Take care out there,” Quinn added with a toothy smile before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

  "Thank you for the directions, sir!" Delilah chirped, her voice bright as she nudged her brother toward the stairs. "Come on, bro, just a bit further, and I can finally take a load off!"

  Altan barked out a laugh and followed her up the steps. "Glad to see you've got your priorities straight." He ducked under the doorframe into Carol's Place, the faint smell of cooked food and stale air mixing as he stepped inside. The moment he entered, a dozen ghouls turned in unison, their eyes wide with cautious curiosity. The room went quiet, the soft murmur of conversations halting as they nervously stared at him.

  A ghoul in a grease-stained apron over a sleeveless dress approached, clutching a straw broom in one hand. Her pale, weathered skin contrasted sharply with the bright red lipstick she wore, a remnant of a bygone era. "Ah, hello humans, and welcome to Carol's Place," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her tired eyes. "I'm Greta. Is there something I can do for you?"

  Altan extended his hand, offering a firm shake. "Nice to meet you, Greta. Quinn sent us your way. We're looking for a bed and a bath." He glanced around at the other ghouls, who were still eyeing him warily.

  Delilah cut in, her eyes locked on the stew pot simmering over the hearth. "And, maybe some of that stew? It smells really good," she added, her stomach giving a loud rumble in agreement.

  Greta chuckled, her grin wide. "Sure, sure. I'll get you both a serving of stew. You're right on time, actually. It just stopped moving." She watched Delilah’s face fall, and cackled at the sight. "I'm just messing with ya! We gotta keep something on hand to feed our human guests, after all."

  Altan shook his head with a quiet laugh. "No stew for me. I've got some errands to run still. How much for the bed and bath?"

  "A hundred caps for the bed, fifty for the bath," Greta said, glancing at Altan's power armor. As his helmet turned in her direction, she quickly raised her hands in a gesture of reassurance. "It's a room with a nice bed and a door that locks, big enough to keep you and your armor secure."

  Altan grumbled under his breath but stepped back, unstrapping his rucksack with a sigh. He reached into the bag, feeling the familiar weight of the satchel containing their caps. After a moment of rummaging, he pulled out two bundles of caps and handed them over. "Two hundred caps," he said, his voice carrying a note of finality. "That should cover the room, the bath, and whatever else my sister wants for dinner."

  Greta nodded, slipping the caps into her apron with a quick motion. "Alright, you two," she said, her tone friendly but brisk. "Follow me. The room’s just down this way." She gestured toward the hallway, her broom still clutched in one hand as she led them through the bustling space, the hum of conversation and the warmth of the hearth surrounding them.

  Greta led them down a narrow hallway, and Delilah couldn’t resist whispering, “If this place has rats, I’m sleeping in your power armor."

  Altan snorted but didn’t respond, his heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. Greta’s laughter trailed behind them as she glanced over her shoulder. "No need to worry about rats, kid. I keep things clean around here. Might hear a ghoul or two snoring next door, though." She opened the door to reveal a small but tidy room with a large bed, a chair, and a bucket of clean water.

  Delilah poked her head in, her eyes immediately lighting up as they landed on the bed. She squealed with delight, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Oh, wow!" she exclaimed, stepping fully into the room. The bed was big, soft-looking, and clean—everything she could’ve hoped for after the long day of travel. She ran a hand over the blankets, grinning. "This is way better than sleeping on the floor."

  Greta waved them off with a grin. "Soup’s available right now, but I’ll be serving dinner in an hour. Don’t be late if you want more than scraps," she said, her voice carrying a playful edge. With that, she closed the door behind them, leaving the siblings to settle into the room.

  In the quiet that followed, Delilah flopped onto the bed, groaning in relief. "I’m not moving until you drag me to dinner," she declared, sinking into the soft mattress with a contented sigh. The exhaustion from their long day hit her all at once, and she stretched out, barely able to keep her eyes open.

  Altan shook his head, the armor hissing as he stepped out of it with a soft groan. "Not so fast," he said, looking over at Delilah. "Get yourself washed up before you dirty the bed." His voice was firm but not unkind, the exhaustion from the day creeping into his tone.

  Another groan escaped Delilah as she wriggled out of her backpack and began unbuckling her armor. "Altan, this armor is killing me," she complained. "Do I really need to wear all this junk when you're stomping around in a tank?"

  Altan crouched down and started unbuckling one of her greaves, his expression shifting to something more serious. "Yes, you do, Lily," he replied, his voice steady but firm. "I might be able to take the hits in that armor, but you're not in a tank like me. Your armor’s there to protect you—don’t forget that. We’re not exactly safe out here. Not everything’s gonna stop just because I’m in that power armor." He glanced up at her, ensuring she understood the weight of his words.

  "Well, they should," she grumbled. "You’re the big, scary guy in power armor. I’m just the kid tagging along."

  "It doesn't matter how scary I look. You’re not just tagging along. You're part of this, whether you like it or not." He glanced up at her, his voice softening. "But I hear you, loud and clear. We'll take some time later to figure out how to lighten your load. Okay?"

  When the girl nodded, he set her gear aside with a soft thud. "Great. Now, I'm gonna do some trading and see about hiring a few guns. You wash up and get something to eat. I should be back before dinner starts."

  Delilah looked as if she wanted to protest, but instead shrugged and forced herself off the bed with a dramatic sigh. "Okay, have fun!" She paused, then glanced his way as he began to climb back into his power armor. "Just so you know," she added with a mischievous grin, "if you're late for dinner, I'm eating your portion."

  Altan shook his head with a chuckle, grabbing his rucksack and the bundle of firearms he'd looted from their recent raider encounters. "Behave yourself. I'll be back before you know it." He jabbed a finger at her before stepping out the door, the heavy thud of his power armor echoing in the hallway.