Leveling ought to advance at a rapid pace if the posse was going to be frequenting the four divine dungeons. Despite this, automaton kills granted only paltry experience to Calaf and Zilara. The latter was on the cusp of leveling up. Hopefully a few more battles would push her over the edge. For items, they only received an odd collection of gears and the requisite gold. Scrap metal was a forgeable, used for crafting something. They could probably sell it at their next stop on the line.

  The warehouse’s outgoing door swung open long enough for the group to pile out, then closed and locked itself again. They looked out over a dock on the far side of the warehouse. Another wharf sat on the far side of a gulf. And filling that gulf was a sight most unexpected.

  “Huh.” Jelena mused.

  A wide and swelling river flowed through the Olde Docks. It wasn’t supposed to do that. The river had diverted due to erosion, silt build-up, and natural drift centuries ago. But to doubt the evidence was to doubt their own eyes. An arm of the delta had broken through the layers of silt and now flowed through this area once more. Water carried on, brackish and muddy.

  “Well. Maybe there are still some boats around?” Jelena suggested.

  Nobody wanted to swim the distance to the far wharf. The water was brackish and full of mud, with evidence of a swift and steady current just underneath the surface. Even if the water were shallow and gentle, braving dire-piranhas and whatever else dwelled in the swampy delta’s water would be a tall order even for Enkidu.

  Eddies wafted about behind the nearest pier. A body, a recent addition, floated face down in the shallows.

  “Listed as ‘Mader, Church Dungeon Engineering Corps,’” Calaf reported. “Level seventy-nine. A Scout.”

  It could be surmised that these dungeon architects were here to ensure the dungeon was in top shape for the upcoming pilgrimage season. Something must have blown a natural dam and sent the water flowing through the docks for the first time in generations. Even at-level Scouts, intimately familiar with their patron dungeon, were not immune to surprise drowning.

  “Hey, Hoss.” Zilara pointed to half a bridge on their side of the river. It had a pair on the other side, both done up by ropes.

  The bridge would’ve been left up and otherwise ignored as unnecessary when the riverbed was dry. Now that the waters were back with a vengeance, the bridge was suddenly invaluable.

  Now, how to get it down…

  “Very observant, kid.” Jelena approached the bridge. She angled her head awkwardly to judge the distance with her one eye. Then, she flicked her wrist.

  A throwing knife flew, courtesy of Jelena, clear through a thick ship-mooring rope. The half-a-bridge sagged, still held up by two other ropes. A pair of additional throwing knives cut the bridge down, and it fell to its resting point over the river, spanning approximately half the distance to the next wharf.

  The three ropes keeping the far span vertical were joined together at an ornate metal clasp. The corresponding clasp on their end of the river had not been visible from their vantage point. Wordless, Enkidu flung his sword at the metal target. The ropes unraveled all at once as the clasp fell into the river.

  Voila, there was a bridge. Bits of wood floated by in the delta, and a few stone structures could be seen amidst the murk. There was an entire elaborate sequence, multiple encounters even, that the group was circumventing entirely. Not that there was much of a choice now that the encounters were flooded.

  The second warehouse was open. Zilara peeked through the door, enhanced senses checking for traps.

  “There’s three of those things in there,” Zilara said. "Big automatons. Sitting in a circle."

  “What are they doing?” Calaf asked.

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  The holy child shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe they’re broken?”

  The group approached quietly. A trio of level seventy-five automata waited, facing each other – to the extent they had ‘faces’ – and generally purring at a low whirr from deep in their clockwork cores.

  “No visual sensors.” Jelena motioned to the lack of lenses. “And we’re making noise. Wonder what causes them to attack…”

  The buffs from the Lockpicks of the Thief were not foolproof. Case in point, Zilara stepped on a scone-sized plate on the floor. The plate remained undetected by all even as they walked further into the otherwise bare warehouse.

  A trio of darts shot out from the far wall. Zilara was so short they sailed clear over her head… directly towards Jelena.

  Jelena jumped back on instinct. Calaf filled the gap, shield raised. Bolts bounced against the hard metal of the kite shield, causing harmless physical damage while transmitting a poisoned status to Calaf.

  The poison took hold, causing Calaf to double over and retch. Bile clogged up his throat. A spell – he had a spell to purify poisons and other statuses. When he tried to cast the spell, however, he just coughed up bile.

  Simultaneously, the trio of automatons came to life…

  “Calaf!” Jelena tackled him before a second round of poison darts and a flame belcher struck his position.

  Enkidu jumped into action as Zilara threw out another lightning bolt. The blast arced between the automatons, stunning them at an opportune moment.

  “Calaf, take this!” Jelena tapped on his wrist, indicating that he should open his inventory.

  An antidote in a sealed bottle emerged from the ether. Jelena grabbed it, popped the cork, and thrust it at Calaf’s chin. Calaf drank it down, feeling the tightness and bile in his throat alleviate the more he drank.

  Enkidu was tripping poison dart traps with little concern for where they went. He nimbly dodged them, never staying in one spot for long. Slaying these three automatons caused four more to fall into the warehouse from the cardinal directions. The nearest rushed at Enkidu with its buzzsaws spun up and squealing. Calaf blocked the blow with his kite shield once more. Enkidu threw his sword through a gap in the automata's chassis, slaying it.

  Lightning arced between targets, stunning incoming automatons for Enkidu or Calaf to finish off. One last clockwork soldier remained. Jelena climbed atop it and pried its chassis open with her twin knives.

  “Wide open!” she said.

  A spear and an ancient blade plunged into the machine’s heart simultaneously.

  The group made camp in a dead-end grove behind the warehouse. A small inlet allowed them to try and fish from the river, though they were largely unsuccessful and just ate from their rations.

  With the enemies in this area being artificial sentries with fixed patrol routes, they were safe in their alcove to utilize the campfire.

  Theoretically, this old warehouse district was porous enough that you could infiltrate from any direction. Come in by boat when the water proved cooperative. Skip entire sections. Maybe even make it all the way to the final area – a dock warden’s office, near the back, without going through this funhouse of traps and clockwork soldiers. But perhaps that was part of the trap – go traipsing through the swamp, penetrate so deep you lose your bearings. The docks were hard enough to find in normal circumstances.

  Zilara had dinged level thirty-seven after the warehouse brawl. Calaf kept a close eye on his own experience in the Interface but given the level difference, he was still a ways away from the next level.

  “So, how’s dungeoneering going for you?” Jelena asked.

  The group had two logs and a pile of ancient lumber to sit upon. This mostly meant Jelena spent the evening sitting in Calaf’s lap as their rations cooked.

  “So far so good,” Calaf said, his hands resting on Jelena’s hips.

  “They keep doing it,” Zilara said. “Public displays of affection.”

  Jelena settled into her seat. “You’re doing good.”

  “I guess we have a balanced party. In a sense.”

  Calaf was the team tank, which at his level brought him some healing abilities. Zilara’s specialized class allowed her to play a versatile swathe of roles. Within this party, she passed as the team mage. Enkidu was a melee damage dealer whose general implacability meant he could take a blow or two. While Jelena said she was a cleric, the Scoured brand meant she’d lost access to magic, but with her knives and natural agility, she made a fair Scout.

  “Didn’t expect to spend the night in the dungeon,” Calaf admitted. “Figured it would be more of a day trip.”

  Jelena scooted around in his lap until she faced him.

  “Eh, camping out can be done on the Fort Duran ramparts and certain confirmed-safe rooms in the Battletower. The Shrine is… well, it varies. But it can be done.”

  Jelena leaned in and hovered near Calaf’s ear. She whispered:

  “Not a lot of privacy here. But…” she leaned closer. “One day, I really want to do it in a dungeon.”

  Calaf opened his mouth but no words came out. He looked to the other seats to confirm the others hadn’t heard.

  “To think we haven’t even cracked open the brandy yet.”

  Jelena giggled, her lips pursed. “Just, y’know. On the bucket list. Battletower or, well, the Fort would probably be the best places for it.”

  “Maybe,” Calaf said.

  “You’re blushing an awfully lot for a maybe.” Jelena leaned forward and kissed him.

  Calaf kissed back, and they made out by the fireside, much to Zilara’s consternation.

  “Get a tent, you two.”