All signs pointed to Knight Shield and Lord-Heir Litany had gone down into the furnace layer of the dungeon. Helm's face was twisted into a near snarl.

"Reckless. Stupid. Even moreso then dragging the Lordling down below here in the first place." He spat, grinding one hoof into the cobblestone. Behind him, Knight Sword and Knight Crossbow exchanged glances.

"...It's almost like he's trying to get him killed on purpose." Crossbow said eventually, by way of making conversation - and nearly immediately felt regret in their throat as Helm turned himself.

"...Yes. It is. It's worse then our dear Lord thought - He's probably not even indulging the Lord-heir's whims at all." Mismatched eyes had narrowed.

"I- That's not what I-"

"Not what you meant. But you don't know horses like I do, Cross. I know how people Tick. You learn it with time. Knight Sword." Sword's head snapped up at the direction mention, already gritting his teeth.

"Helm?"

"Your cousin seems to be aiming to be a Lord Slayer. Weren't you paying attention-?" Sword swallowed. He had been. He was quire certain Helm -- Cleave - whatever the fuck you called him - was wrong. You couldn't say that sort of response to Helm, though. He & Shield both knew that perfectly well - though while Sword always went quiet, Shield never had. Not for that.

"Well? Can I count on you to do what needs doing, if our suspicions are correct?" Helm had moved closer, staring Sword in the eyes. They forcued themselves to nod.

"Good. Now. We need one of those damned guides."

-------------

Crossbow had been send off with coin, and shortly returned with one of the know contracts for hire, Phoebe, in step behind them.

"We're tracking someone - a missing person. Into the furnace." Helm said, words carefully slick and manicured not to contain the unpleasantries they intended. "Keep us save, and I'll double your payment at the end of this trip."

The agreement was made swiftly, and the four descended into the furnace.

-------------
The three knights were darkened and damp with sweat, trudging in single file along a thing rock bridge. Their guide up ahead, Phoebe, seemed far less effective - likely something to do with the faint glowing blue lantern at her neck, Helm suspected. He had had Sword unbuckle the strap to his helm and pauldrons earlier - the leather almost trapped heat against his skin worse then the metal.

Hearing a pop of lava, and then what sounded like scrambling hooves, he jerked his head around to search for the source. The speed at which he flung his head - his helm was flung off, landing in a pool of lava. Shit. He made a motion to retrieve it - and it sunk beneath the drink.

Feeling a pair of eyes on him, he glanced up, spotting a palm blue ethered sort of courser across the way, blinking down at him, head tilted - a hat upon their head.

"...You've lost me MY FUCKING HELMET, you know." He spat, yelled out - and the stranger turned away, slipping out of sight.

"Keep screeching at other delvers over gapes and I'll leave you down here by yourself." The weld guide was standing in his face when he turned his head. "You do not live by being aggressive to your fellows down here, 'Sir Helm'. Take it into account. Your helmet is replaceable."