As Sharpe passes the threshold of the Dungeoneer’s Guild hall, she is taken aback by the intricate interior. Vibrant decorations, tapestries, hunter trophies draping the clean stone walls of this large building really transcribed how resourceful and popular dungeon exploration has always been. She honestly isn’t sure why expected any less.

Making her way to the unattended front desk, she notices that in contrast with the busy decoration, there are relatively few coursers in the halls at this time, and those that are here are merely passing by, not paying her any attention. Maybe she got the date wrong…

“Commander Sharpe!”

The chestnut mare turns at the sound of her name, noticing the muscular light grey courser that makes his way towards her with intent. She recognises the bright red eyes of the Guild’s founder.

“Sir” Sharpe snaps to attention as he closes the distance. “You must be Chief Crispin.”

“That’s correct” he slightly bows her head in greeting. “It’s an honour to have someone of your calibre joining our ranks, Commander.”

“I appreciate it sir, but I’m still part of the Alliance” she corrects. “I’m here as a Dungeon Warden, not a Guild member.”

“Of course, of course, but we’re still coworkers in any case” he smiles and gestures for her to start following him.

Sharpe doesn’t argue. While she doesn’t particularly hold mercenaries in her heart, she recognises this job opportunity as the only way for her to remain an Alliance Legionnaire. While an honourable discharge would have been nothing to scoff at, retirement simply wouldn’t suit her. She needed this, to be active, to make herself useful. Being reassigned as a Dungeon Warden was her chance to do that still.

The two coursers walk down several sets of stairs, filling the silence of the halls with limited small talk about the Guild and its history. Sharpe only half-pays attention, distracted by the ever growing distance that separates them from the surface. How far down is this dungeon exactly?
While the question burns her tongue, she decides to keep it for herself for now. She’ll know the answer soon enough.
Eventually, they reach the bottom floor where a small brightly lit lobby welcomes them. Crispin greets the courser that was minding the desk, and dismisses them so he can sit there himself.

“Do tell me Commander” the Guild leader catches her attention. “How many times have you visited the dungeon in the past?”

“That would be a grant total of zero times, sir.” Sharpe answers honestly.

“Ah, I see. In that case, we’ll get you started with something simple…” Crispin fumbles through some tablets, visibly looking for something. After a short time, he settles on one. “Here” he holds up the tablet for her to take. “Sir Ribbitton needs a parcel delivered to him. No doubt that would be an easy enough task for you.”

The commander looks down at the tablet, slightly offended. “What am I, an errand girl?”

Crispin sighs, putting the tablet down on the desk. “While I don’t doubt your qualities as a competent warrior Commander, the dungeon isn’t exactly a battlefield.” he explains in a serious tone. “Sending you on a perilous mission when you’ve never set foot underground would be sending you straight to your death. Neither I nor your superiors want to deal with the paperwork.” he finishes with an intense glare, which shuts down any argument the commander could possibly have.

As stubborn as she can be, Sharpe knows when she’s beaten. “... Sir Ribbitton you said?” she asks as she reads the tablet describing the mission.

The Guild leader sits back in his seat, a satisfied look on his face, before standing back up. “Here’s a crude map of the area, you’ll find him near the pond. And some rations for the road” he produces the items from a chest nearby.

Sharpe accepts and stashes them in her pouch, following Crispin as he moves to another room. Passing the threshold, they find themselves in an ancient hall, a gigantic doorway beckoning them on the far wall. Never had she seen infrastructure that immense, way too large for any living being she knew of. And yet that doorway stood there, untouched by time, darkness beyond calling to her.

Closing her mouth that she didn’t realise was gaping, the Commander swallowed hard. This is definitely going to be a very different venture from what she’s used to.

Crispin snaps her out of her musings “Anything else ?”

“Armour, rations, map and mission. I’m all set, sir.” she replies solemnly, gathering herself.

“Good. In that case…” the Guild leader looks her dead in the eyes, a glimpse of fire in his eyes.
“Welcome to the Dungeon, Commander”