The mayor’s house did indeed have a cellar, which was more of a jagged cavern structure. A ‘crawlspace’ in the back led into a sprawling cave network. The town mayor had used it for storage, though spare doodads tapered out before long. It was a very long cave, and if Calaf’s internal compass was still working the caves ventured off to the north and west, well out of the range of the Arbitral Auxiliary brigades currently besieging Vault. In this way, the gang could stealthily exfiltrate and hopefully save Vault from a heresy-cleansing extended siege.

  It was a fighting retreat into the mayor’s cellar. Enkidu matched Walter blow for blow until some accursed Bard’s song buffed the Hunter’s speed and strength in equal measure. The swordsmen clashed as Zilara, Jelena, and Calaf squeezed through the caverns.

  “Enkidu, we’re ready. C’mon,” Jelena said.

  A swift kick pushed Walter out of the cellar. Enkidu the wild man turned to retreat, only to be stabbed through the back by Walter’s incredibly long sword.

  “Enkidu!” Jelena cried.

  Enkidu grabbed the sword with one hand and pulled himself off the blade. He stumbled forward, lashing out with his own sword in a strike that sliced clean through two supporting trestles. The narrow mouth of the cavern collapsed, plunging the group into darkness and preventing the Hunter from pursuing them further.

  All was darkness until Zilara cast a light spell. Enkidu was buried up to his waist in debris. He pulled himself out with a mighty push.

  “That should slow them down,” said the wild man.

  Jelena sighed in relief. “Good going. You okay?”

  A scar had formed where the brittle blade had run through his chest. He shrugged off Jelena’s concern:

  “I’ll be fine.”

  There was nowhere to go but deeper into the caverns. Calaf called up the utility lighting spell and took the lead. Between the Squire and Zilara, there was no need to light a torch.

  As they walked, Calaf side-eyed Enkidu. His shirt was torn up from the morning’s battle damage. Scrapes, cuts, and the piercing skewer had all healed with only faint scars and no blood to show for it all.

  Long ago primitive mines had wormed their way through the region's naturally cavernous landscape. Weaker stone gave way with time, leaving winding passageways and even wide subterranean hollows between great plates of granite and, indeed, veins of mithril.

  The mithril was long gone, an essential but extinct resource depleted from a vast swathe of territory between Granite Pass and the northern hinterlands. Perhaps some untapped sources still existed beneath more arable highlands of the Deepwood forest. But with that land under direct ownership of the church, major industry was limited.

  The tunnels twisted and wound underground with no end in sight.

  “Well. Since we’re stuck wandering here, might as well get back to reading.”

  With little flourish, Zilara read the remaining testament from Vault straight from Inventory.

  Gospel of Riverglen Closing Stanzas

  … and so, the party of four traveled northwards through rocky crags of pure granite, having received no help from the riverlands.

  Roland strode with a gloomy gait unbecoming his typical demeanor. For nine hours straight the Paladin had done battle with the fiendish Sentry Demon #1 in a flowered glen north of the riverside hamlet. With careful and deliberate strikes, the demon and knight chipped away each other’s HP until they were both in the low single digits. Only when Mia, Gustavo, Aldia, and a spattering of local residents had caught up did the beast give up the fight and take off.

  “Demons do not hold grudges,” the knight muttered to himself.

  “Aye, true,” said Aldia. “Scholars of the tower theorize demons can’t feel emotions at a level of even the lowest dire-beast. They receive orders from on high and persist until victory or death. This sentry is an abnormality to be sure. If it can be captured, perhaps my fellows could study it. There’s quite the bounty out for demon specimens delivered to the Battletower.”

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  What the demon’s aim was beyond revenge, none dare guess.

  “Good sir.” Mia moved closer to the Paladin. “It was noble of you to rescue that alderman’s daughter from the bandit clan. Even after that boorish introduction.”

  “It was on the way,” Roland said. “And it might keep the village from sending people after us.”

  Even the witnesses to the great battle between Roland and the Demon Sentry declined to aid the group. The heroes traveled now through the rocky crags south of the great forests.

  “Pity the western route didn’t pan out,” Gustavo said. “Nice amenities. Fine bar. I ought to come back down here and visit again.”

  “Far better to blaze a more direct trail,” their new mage friend said. “We’ll be passing by the Battletower soon. We can resupply, I can retrieve some extra spells and staves. Perhaps even some more healing spells for you, Madam Cleric.”

  Mia gazed down at her feet, sheepish.

  “Um, I thank you, good sir. Your scroll of Adequate Heal proved invaluable.”

  It was the prospect of battlefield healing that had chased the Demon away. Even this Sentry still had some wits about it.

  Aldia continued unprompted. “Yes, the Battletower is the premier cloister for free scholarship of the Interface. Yes, rare is the organization that takes the Shackle for the voluntary pursuit of natural philosophy. If you truly have nowhere to go, perhaps you should return with me to the Battletower. It’s that or being some demon’s thrall.”

  Gustavo jumped up atop a granite ledge. He gazed northwards.

  “What do your thief's eyes see, good sir?” Roland asked.

  The team thief’s eyes narrowed.

  “Incoming. Everyone, find cover.” Gustavo dived from the rocky outcropping.

  Aldia and Mia found cover with little trouble. Roland, clad in medium armor, had a harder go of it. The knight awkwardly darted behind a rock, beside Mia, his shoulder pauldron poking out.

  “Everyone hold still,” Battlemage Aldia said.

  The four heroes felt no different than they had a moment before. But to an outside observer, they suddenly grew hard to detect to all but the most keenly perception-specced Shackled.

  A flock of crows in yonder distance grew larger still in both the size of the flock and bulk of individual crows. Soon they blanketed the sky, revealing themselves as a horde of winged demons. None dare delve into the demonic flock’s Menu designations, lest they be discovered. But they could make out “Demonic Vanguard #138” among other numbers.

  “At least two hundred of them. Probably diverted from the Autumnlands,” Roland whispered. “Likely level fifty or above. Do not try to engage.”

  As soon as it appeared, the flock fluttered southwards. Their destination was clear: the river hamlet, and the spire-gaol beyond. As Roland would go on to explain, each demon sent southwards was one less foe in the way of the outland marches and the Demon King.

  “Much like that Demon Sentry.” Roland’s voice was still low. “These are just individual fingers lacking what you or I would call a spark of life.”

  “They’ll find out about the prison break at the Spire,” Gustavo said. “If they haven’t already.”

  “There’s no avoiding that now.” Roland took a step forward, dispelling his magical camouflage. “Come. We’re a day’s march from the woods. We’ll be safe from any skybound eyes in the deep woods.”

  “It’s but a two-day’s walk to the Tower from there,” Aldia said.

  The Paladin nodded. “Indeed. We shall head to the Battletower. It is the only place for five hundred leagues we could hope to resupply.

  ... The hidden testament tapered off, having used up the combined set of mithril mats…

  In the present time, the posse spent the ‘night’ – though the quartet could not tell the actual time – in tents courtesy of one of their remaining Camp items. The provided fire pit sat awkwardly amidst a wide hollowed-out chamber deep beneath the Earth. Smoke rose from the fire and wafted to the ceiling high above.

  Wait a minute. Calaf ran through the testament again. This last verse occurs after the crew already passed through what would count as Granite Pass. This was to say, this testament was hidden in Vault after the fact, after Gustavo had doubled back.

  These gospels had been retroactively left for later generations to find. Perhaps the mug of the Scout was even left intentionally, to imbue the site with religious significance and therefore ensure its preservation. When Calaf shared this theory with the group, Jelena’s un-patched eye widened in understanding.

  “Like a trail of breadcrumbs,” she declared. “Or a treasure hunt. Well, at least we were on the right track.”

  The testament would be pointing towards their next destination. Meaning…

  “The next breadcrumb should be at the Battletower,” Zilara guessed.

  “No complaints here,” Jelena said. “Been trying to get back there and resupply gunpowder for months.”

  The trio waited around the fire as it cast light over double the campsite’s circumference. The rest of the sprawling cavern was shrouded in darkness. There was a shallow pool with the strangest blind dire-fish occasionally flopping about within. The group was not yet out of rations and not yet desperate enough to attempt to eat these fish. Yet.

  “First, I suppose, we have to get out of here,” Jelena said, and sighed.

  They should be well north of Vault by now. A canyon would block the eastern path back onto the pilgrimage route. All this was moot until they found a way out.

  “Wonder what that Demon Sentry is all about,” Jelena said after a time.

  Over near the tents, Enkidu grumbled. “It doesn’t matter.”

  A long period of silence passed. Calaf gazed into the dwindling fire.

  “Hmmm.” Zilara looked upwards. “The smoke is goin’ somewhere.”

  “Oh?” Calaf looked up.

  The cavern ceiling was not filled with smoke. While it was a large cavern, they ought to see some signs of pooling smoke if there truly was no ventilation in here at all.

  “I think there’s a stovepipe,” Zilara said.

  “Meaning…” Calaf gasped.

  “There may be a way out after all!” Jelena concluded.

  “Don’t tell me we’re going to have to climb,” Enkidu said, still grumbling.