NOVEL NEXT 206. Faded Glory
Within a few minutes, the dense forest canopy gave way to open sky, and Atlas came to an abrupt halt at the edge of what could only be described as a massive excavation site.
This was not a natural chasm but an abandoned quarry that descended surprisingly deep. The terraced walls displayed clear evidence of mining operations, with carved ledges and remnants of half-rotted wooden scaffolding still clinging to the stone faces. Centuries of weathering had softened the harsh edges, allowing hardy mountain vegetation to reclaim portions of the excavated walls.
Myrelle gracefully drew up beside him on Comet. Celine appeared on his other side, astride Sunbeam, both rider and mare looking somewhat nervous at the precipitous drop. After considerable commotion and several thunderous discharges, Tennyson finally coaxed Thunderclap to a stop near the quarry's edge.
However, it was not the depth of the excavation that captured Justin's attention. The magical scent from his Vault-Sniffer enchantment had become so intense it was almost overwhelming, like standing in the same room as an aether distillery.
At the bottom of the quarry, perhaps two hundred feet below, a tunnel entrance was visible in the far wall. More importantly, that tunnel mouth was sealed by an unmistakable green shimmer.
"By the Nether," Tennyson breathed, leaning forward in his saddle to peer into the depths. "How on Eyrth are we supposed to get down there?"
"Carefully," Myrelle replied, already guiding Comet to the right where a narrow switchback trail had been carved into the quarry wall. "It looks like the original miners left us a path."
"But where are those screams coming from?" Celine asked nervously.
Justin, seated higher than the others on Atlas, had the best vantage point of the area around the quarry. Following the direction of the intermittent shouting, he spotted the source easily enough, perhaps thanks to Celine's sight ability: an elderly man sitting beside a massive boulder, dressed in worn travel clothes. His sword and shield, both appearing quite expensive, lay carelessly discarded nearby, and he was surrounded by a collection of empty bottles that glinted in the afternoon sunlight.
"There's our distressed citizen," Justin announced, pointing toward the figure. "Let's see what's troubling him."
As they approached, it became clear that the man wasn't in any physical danger. Instead, he was singing—loudly and off-key, with tears streaming down his weathered cheeks.
"But my party said I talk too much,
Said my jokes ain't worth a damn!
Left me here like yesterday's fish,
What a sorry, sorry man!"
The man dissolved into sobs, then immediately resumed singing with renewed bitterness:
"So here's to all the younger ones
Who think their friends are true!
Just wait until you need them most—
And then the'll leave you too!"
"Are you all right, sir?" Justin called out, guiding Atlas a bit closer.
The man looked up, his brilliant blue eyes heavily fogged with intoxication. His face was flushed red beneath a gray beard. Despite this, he was surprisingly well-muscled for a man of advanced years.
"All right?" the man repeated, his words slightly slurred but still intelligible. "Do I look all right to you, young sir?" He gestured wildly at the quarry behind them. "Sitting here like some tavern drunk while there's a perfectly good Vault begging to be conquered!"
Justin activated the analytical capabilities of his monocle and gasped. The readout showed "Level 35 Dungeon Delver" floating above the man's head—an extraordinarily powerful adventurer.
Despite this, he wasn't wearing any enchanted gear, while his sword and shield were only silver-tier. A strange juxtaposition to be sure.
Even so, this man's abilities, compared to their modest party, approached those of a demigod.
"What's wrong?" Myrelle asked, noticing Justin's reaction.
"This man is Level 35," Justin said quietly. "Dungeon Delver class."
The elderly warrior perked up at this revelation. "Ah, you've got yourself a proper appraisal device there, lad. Not many can see through the fog of drink to the man beneath." He struggled to his feet, swaying only slightly despite his obvious intoxication. "Allow me to introduce myself properly. Theric Wren, at your service."
The reaction from the nobles was instantaneous.
"Theric Wren!" Tennyson practically shouted, nearly toppling from Thunderclap in his excitement. "The Theric Wren? Author of The Adventurer's Guide to Vaults?"
"By the gods," Celine breathed, her eyes wide with starstruck awe. "I've read that book cover to cover at least five times! It's practically required reading!"
"Only five times?" Tennyson laughed with genuine delight. "I've read it at least ten times! I wish I had my copy with me so you could sign it!"
Justin blinked in surprise at their reaction. Apparently, this disheveled drunk was a celebrity. He made a mental note to acquire this book at the first opportunity.
Wren waved them off with obvious bitterness, though Justin caught a flicker of genuine pleasure at the recognition. "Yes, yes, famous author. The great Theric Wren and his wit and wisdom!" His voice turned sour, tinged with self-loathing. "But what glory is there in being an author? Sitting in taverns, chasing wenches, drinking away my gold like some wastrel? By the gods, I was young once! I had purpose!"
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
"You're still... distinguished," Celine offered diplomatically, clearly struggling to reconcile the legend with the reality before them.
Theric appraised her with world-weary eyes, chuckling bitterly. "Oh, to be young again! You lot have no idea what you possess. I'd trade all the treasures of Eyrth just to stand where you are—with decades ahead instead of behind me. An Ascendant Class... it's nothing but a pipe dream now! I tried to achieve it the honest way: slaying bandits, raiding forgotten tombs, heeding the call of the Great Crusade of Atelinar." His voice cracked slightly. "That campaign sent my beloved Grubby to an early grave."
"Level 35 as an adventurer is a tremendous accomplishment," Celine said earnestly. "You should be proud of what you've achieved."
"I wanted more, my lady. I wanted godhood itself." His eyes grew distant with old dreams. "My party and I... we had plans. Grand plans! We were all going to acquire Prismatic Cores and achieve true immortality, continuing to adventure for eternity! But the gods..." He shook his head bitterly. "No, they don't reward good men. They reward the lucky, the ruthless, the clever. Never the good."
Justin maintained a carefully neutral expression. How would he react if the very thing he had hunted his entire life—a Prismatic Core—now formed the basis of his own progression?
"I can imagine how difficult that must have been," Justin said carefully.
Wren nodded, appreciating the acknowledgment. "I wrote my book after retiring. I wasted away my remaining days in taverns and brothels, living off old glories like some pathetic has-been." He gestured toward himself with disgust.
"How did you come to be here, in this particular place?" Justin asked.
Wren gestured dramatically toward the Vault entrance far below. "Why am I here? I'm trying to recapture just one moment of that old glory, the barest shred of what I once was. I convinced a party of young adventurers to join me—much like yourselves, actually. Sometimes I enjoy the challenge of attempting Vaults in... less-than-optimal conditions." His expression darkened. "But my so-called 'companions' took advantage of my drunken state. After I took a short nap to edify myself, they robbed me of most of my portable wealth and abandoned me here like a broken-down pack mule. They left me with nothing but my sword and shield and what remained of my dignity."
The nobles exchanged uncomfortable glances at this revelation.
"Wait," Justin said, studying the green shimmer emanating from the Vault entrance below. "This is a green-tier Vault, correct? That indicates a difficulty below Level 20. What possible challenge could that present to someone of your capabilities?"
Wren's eyes lit up with the first genuine enthusiasm Justin had seen from him. "Ah! Now there's a question from someone with actual brains! Tell me, young sir, have you ever attempted Vault-running while thoroughly intoxicated?"
"I... can't say that I have."
"It's like imposing a ten-level handicap on yourself! Every reflex dulled, every spell more difficult to cast, every sword swing slightly off target. Suddenly, that mundane Level 15 Vault becomes a true challenge again!" Wren gestured excitedly, his passion for the subject overshadowing his bitterness. "I've done it several times over the years. Nothing quite compares to the thrill of artificial difficulty! The Vaults here in central Serenthel aren't like the nightmarish challenges I've faced in Atelinar or even northern Serenthel."
"Justin has adventured in northern Serenthel," Myrelle offered, perhaps hoping to establish common ground.
Justin tried not to wince. He really didn't want to answer any questions. "I have. Never again, if I can help it."
Theric chuckled knowingly. "You and me both, lad. I've got some harrowing stories from that land. Me, Grubby, and the rest of our band once attempted to descend to the very bottom of the Drakendir ruins using the Grand Lift. Old Grubby had this mad idea about drinking 'the blood of the world' that supposedly flowed in the deepest chambers." He chuckled, but pain lingered in his reminiscence. "We were fortunate to escape with our skins, if not our sanity entirely intact."
The story was fascinating, but Justin knew they needed to maintain focus. "If we're going into that Vault," he said firmly, "it'll be after you've had time to sober up properly."
"With what time?" Myrelle asked practically. "We need to complete this expedition and return to Belmora before sundown."
Wren's expression brightened considerably, hope flickering in his bloodshot eyes. "Wait, wait, wait—are you actually suggesting that you'd permit an old fool like me to join your party?" The hope in his voice was almost painful to hear. "Think of the stories we could tell afterward! The glory of it! Oh, it would be just like the old days when my crew was together—me and Grubby Goodkin, Dominique Doomwhisper, and Aliban the Alchemancer!" His eyes grew misty with nostalgia. "Come now, don't let an old man down! One last adventure with a proper party who might actually appreciate some veteran guidance instead of treating me like a burden!"
The three nobles exchanged uncertain glances before turning expectantly to Justin. The decision, it seemed, was entirely his to make.
Justin weighed the situation carefully. This was undoubtedly a risky proposition: bringing a severely intoxicated man into a potentially dangerous situation.
A successful Vault expedition with these nobles would generate the stories and social connections that would benefit his mission. The Templars would certainly approve of him cultivating relationships with influential young aristocrats.
More pragmatically, even inebriated, Theric was Level 35. With his experience and Justin's own capabilities, the dangers of the Vault would likely be manageable. If it truly was only Level 15, that aligned well with the other party members' abilities.
"All right," Justin decided. "But I keep the party leadership. No offense, Sir Wren, but I don't believe you're in any condition to make crucial tactical decisions."
"Certainly, young master!" Wren replied, already moving to retrieve his sword and shield despite his condition. He stumbled slightly before regaining his balance. "I shall gladly serve in an advisory capacity. Oh, I can already envision the sequel: Vault-Raiding in Your Golden Years: A Practical Guide. What do you think, lads and lasses?"
"I think we'd better move quickly if we're to complete this Vault and return to Belmora before sundown," Tennyson said, though his excitement was evident.
"Oh, capital idea!" Theric exclaimed. "Shall I join the party officially?"
Justin activated his party interface and extended the invitation.
[Theric has joined the party. His Adventurer's Guile greatly enhances your perception, significantly improving your ability to detect traps and hidden dangers within Vaults.]
Justin recognized that party tactic; it was the same one provided by his Dapper Adventuring Set.
Following Justin's lead, the party dismissed their mounts back to their summoning rings. He wasn't sure the precarious wooden platforms leading down into the quarry would hold up under the additional weight.
"Right then," Justin announced. "Follow me, and watch your footing."
He led them down the narrow, switchbacking trail toward the Vault entrance, with Theric humming a considerably more cheerful tune as they descended.
Tennyson chuckled with barely contained excitement. "I can't believe we're about to raid a Vault with Theric Wren himself. Wait until I tell everyone at Fallingworth's soirée next week!"