“Wardens, Explorator.” The lead guard said as we approached the outer gate. The other guards looked weary; their hands that were not on their weapons were definitely close to them. “What purpose do you have here?”

  “We’re looking for an ancient facility called Storage C,” I said. He and the others stiffened up. “We are led to believe it is around here, and we are looking for information.”

  “Domins, Carston!” he turned his head and shouted. Two men came jogging over from just inside the inner gate. He waited until they got close.

  “These two will escort you to the Magistrate. Keep your weapons in storage. If you are seen to draw them, it will be considered hostile intent. Toreck is not subject to your royalty; your organisations hold no authority here.” He turned to the two newcomers. “Same as before, straight to the Magistrate's office, no detours, and then let him decide. They asked for Storage C.”

  “Yessir!” both men said, bringing their heels together as they moved from an at rest position to attention and saluted.

  Past the first gate, there was a twenty-metre stretch of fortified road. The rooftops on the nearby buildings had defences to allow archers to shoot down while still giving them plenty of cover. Effort had been put into ensuring all of the walls were perfectly smooth. I certainly wouldn’t want to be the one trying to assault this entrance. The two nearly silent men led us into the town, only speaking to give us directions and ignoring all our attempts at conversation.

  Once past the fortification, the town opened up. I saw laughing children playing in the streets. Adults walking about their business. There was quite a hustle to the place. The sort that made me think this town was alive and thriving. We passed the normal sorts of shops I’d expect to see on a high street: the butchers, bakers, and a haberdashery. We passed a barber who had a client in his chair. Then there were also the ones which felt unique to Velkaria; we got some of the first words from our escort when we slowed to look at the Blacksmith, who was proudly displaying some of his wares. There was an outfitter who had some interesting-looking outfits in their windows.

  The guards led us down the road towards a large building in the centre of town that was surrounded by a wall easily four metres tall. It was almost as fortified as the gates we had come in. If this had been an old castle town, I’d think we were approaching the walls of the castle proper. The patchwork repairs gave the impression that they had done the best they could to repair the damage time had worn upon the original structures, but hadn’t quite done a good enough job. Our route took us to the large open gate, and we got our first look at the building proper and the parking area in front of it.

  Three stories tall, the long warehouse building stretched for at least a kilometre in both directions. Multiple two-story tall metal shutters could be seen every 50 metres. Immediately ahead of us, there was what had once been the visitors' reception. It had once had a sign saying ‘Welcome to Storage C,’ but of those letters only the t, o, r, e, and C were left.

  I couldn’t help myself. I snorted. Torec…the town was named for the letters left on the sign.

  “Look, Lord Sullavan, I understand your position, but after having gained our independence from those slaving bastards to the east, we are not about to subjugate ourselves to another King or Queen. Regardless of whose daddy sired them. We are more than happy to discuss trade, but Toreck’s Independence is not open for negotiation.” The words were spoken by a commanding man who sat upon a simple, yet unmistakable throne. It had been placed to clearly command the entrance hall to the storage building, but between the wall coverings, tables, and seating areas was clearly the town's seat of power.

  “But they are your rightful rulers!” the weaselly man in expensive clothes snivelled in a nasally voice, waving bejewelled-fingered hands around as if conducting an orchestra with sheer pompousness. I’d heard six words out of his mouth, and I was itching to punch him.

  “My great-grandfather came to the new world to get away from our ‘rightful rulers,’ and I personally removed the head from the last person who declared I must submit myself to the rule of another just because of their birth. I think you should depart before I forget to be politic.” The man on the throne turned his head to look at a man in an Explorator's uniform. “Paul, you are lucky he wasn’t the first of your people I met, or our gates would be closed to your people. I am getting sick of these sycophantic fools trying to make demands.”

  “My apologies, Milord. With the connection to the global com-net now restored and your permission, I will contact my superiors and report that his Lordship would be more appropriately used in another context.”

  “Yes, yes. Go, and I would appreciate that context being very far from here. Hang on a moment, Paul, one of them looks to be one of yours. Domins, what have you brought me?”

  “Magistrate! Visitors from the North gate. Claimed to be seeking Storage C.” One of the two guards declared as they both stood to attention.

  “Field Agent?” the Explorator asked me. I nodded in response, yeah, that had been the term I had been told. “I’m not familiar with her, but with your permission, Magistrate, I can confirm her standing and that of the others in her party.”

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  “Please do, that repair of the com-net is becoming quite beneficial,” the Magistrate told him before focusing on the five of us. “So why do you seek Storage C?”

  I felt four more pairs of eyes looking in my direction; I swallowed, it was my quest, after all. “Err, Magistrate? We seek a teleport core for a quest, and the clues we found indicate that we might be able to find one here. Magistrate, Sir.” There were a few snorts from people scattered around the room. The man stood up from the throne decisively and moved towards us.

  “None of that, you five clearly work for a living. Paul, are they in good standing?”

  “Ah, apologies. Yes, Magistrate. Very much so. All of them. And by extension, the rest of their guild.”

  “Thought so. Ok, you two, back to your posts. I don’t think we will have any issues with these ones.” The two men saluted and then departed. “As I'm sure you have guessed, our town is built on top of Storage C. What you see is just the tip. Mining that ancient facility is our town's primary income. Now we are not opposed to allowing outsiders to delve. As long as you follow the rules and pay the tax, Paul, since they are of your faction, I’ll trust you to explain the rules to them and ensure they don’t break any of them… let’s call it a test.”

  “Ahh, yes, Magistrate,” said the Explorator in a tone which indicated he knew something was being foisted on him.

  Paul, with a limp, led us through the warren of corridors to a room that had been set aside for his use and indicated we should take seats at the round table in the corner opposite his desk.

  “Your timing here is kind of fortuitous,” he started after joining us at the table. “Between that pompous arse, who it seems has assigned himself to negotiate with the Magistrate and my own limited resources, we have been losing ground in negotiating with the Magistrate and his people. Fortunately, someone brought the com-net here online thirty minutes ago, and I’ve been able to reach out to some of the people I know back in Landing. Christoph sent a favourable report to me about you, so I am going to lean heavily on you to help get us access to their delve. What do you know about Toreck?”

  “Not much,” Darksider said.

  “Our guild found some information indicating that we might be able to find a Teleporter Core here,” I added.

  “Which you need?” he nodded. “Ok, so the Toreckians claim that there is a marvel of ancient manufacturing and creation below our feet, but something is wrong. It keeps changing. Every day, the place is different. Every morning, they dive into the place below. Fight off beasts and monsters, both of flesh and machine. Take what they can and then escape. Only to have to repeat the next day, starting from scratch. It also needs to be done every day because if they don’t, things come out and attack the town. That said, the deeper you go, the better the things you can find. First levels are just raw resources, some simple tools. It improves greatly after that.”

  “But I’m guessing the monsters get tougher?” Jacobs asked.

  “Exactly.” His voice briefly took on an incredulous tone. “The Magistrate took me down three floors. We faced these dog-like creatures, a mix of flesh and machine. Hardest fight of my life, but he and his guards acted like it was a spot of light exercise.” He turned in his chair and pulled up the leg of his trousers, revealing the cause of his limp. The scars of a bite wound that was on its way to being fully healed. “I missed one…” he said woefully. “Another week and I should be walking without the damn limp.”

  “A week?” Jacobs asked. “That wound looks like it is months away from such a recovery.”

  “You’re all newly integrated?” he said with a knowing nod. “You’ll find we heal a lot quicker and cleaner than we used to. It wasn’t bad enough to justify the cost of a healer. It’s been inconvenient, but not life-threatening.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jacobs said, “If I'd have seen it sooner, I’d be able to help…”

  “You are a healer?” he asked, eyes widening. “Well, that should help you out greatly in the delve. Few of the parties are so lucky. And while I appreciate the thought, it won’t take much longer.”

  He returned to a more lecturer-like tone. “The rules aren’t all that complex. Delvers support each other. No back-stabbing and no bringing monsters to attack other delvers. If you have to run, make sure you are screaming your lungs off to give warning.”

  I nodded along in understanding. “Second rule:” he continued. “First-come, first-served. If someone is in a chamber, that’s their chamber and their contents. They don’t have to share. You can’t force them, and you don’t want to build a reputation here for that sort of behaviour; the town will shun you. They look down on that almost as much as they do those who get others killed. You leave a chamber, though, and it becomes fair game again. Apparently, they had issues with people claiming all the rooms close to the entrance and then spending all day stripping them, which forced others to travel further. This way spreads the risk more evenly.”

  “Makes sense,” Jacobs said.

  “Don’t destroy the infrastructure. The terminals and walls are sacrosanct; the delve fights back if you start damaging it. No one I have spoken to will elaborate on what happens, but it’s a hard rule that will get you permanently banned if you break it. The last rule is: give Toreck its due. Half of what you acquire is theirs, and the other half is yours to do with as you will. I know it seems steep, but that is the only tax they charge, and in exchange, they do offer healing and repairs to those who meet the minimum quota. As well as a bunch of services, I think none of you will need. If there is something specific you picked up that you want, from what I have seen, they usually seem happy to negotiate. There is a list of things the city needs, though, and those they will insist they get. After that, every team must be at least five people in strength, but can be as many as you want. Any questions?” he asked.

  “Seems pretty straightforward, explore, loot, escape, we lose half in exchange for access. I feel like there is a but coming…”

  “Yes, but teleporter cores are on their required list. They need them to get deeper into the delve and get out with the loot without having to carry it up for miles. Every five levels there is a teleporter station…and they need a core to repair them when they break…”