Perth was still entirely unsure how he’d managed to collect the band of coursers currently trundling behind him. He’d set of alone, only Ozzy in his pack, rations for them both for a day or two. It wasn’t meant to be a long expedition, and he wanted the room in his saddlebags to return to the surface with riches. Obviously. That was why he was down here.

On his descent, he ran into a heraldic courser leaning over a large, mossy pool. “You there,” he called, his eyes bright. “Come here, come look at this.”

Recognizing Icon from their run-in prior, he’d begrudgingly come along to inspect the strange insects he’d found; and when he’d turned to depart, Icon and the small drake riding on his withers followed suit. The two of them were more interested in sight seeing and that, Perth supposed, was fine. He didn’t care if Icon took notes, because he didn’t want treasure.

But then, several hours later, they’d heard someone yelling, and Icon had dashed forward, suddenly determined to help. Not about to be outdone, Perth had cantered along after him, finding a chestnut and a spotted champagne courser. The latter was bleeding, the former was chasing something rather spooky away from her, and before he knew it, Perth had joined the fray while Icon did his best to patch Pocket up.

”What kind of name is Pocket, anyways?” He grumbled, trying to ignore the sting in his blue eyes as the Earthern Furnace belched up a plume of sulfuric air. His tail twitched, and he was glad that Ozzy was tucked safely in his bags as Spot’s dog sneezed a moment later.

Pocket, unbothered, shrugged. “The name my parents gave me,” she replied easily. “What kind of name is Perth?”

“My name,” the courser answered, flattening his ears. “Look, I’m not a fucking…I don’t know. Tour guide. Why don’t you head out?”

Icon hummed. “Oh, we’ll get there eventually, won’t we, Perth? I thought we might see if we can find a salamander before we left, and it would be easier with more coursers to corral it if we must.”

Unfortunately, the woad courser had a point. Perth sighed and shook his head, powering forward at the head of the group. “What about you?” He groused to the chestnut, who’d been fairly quiet up until this point. “Are you sticking around?”

Spot cleared his throat. “Well, yes,” he replied. “The dungeon is easier to navigate in a group, and my friends…” He trailed off and shrugged. “I’ll catch up with them on the surface.

At least he seemed a little more practiced, Perth supposed. He didn’t have much longer to consider how he’d wound up in this party, however, as he realized the heat was started to disappeared as they approached a large wall, funneling them into a dark room. He narrowed his eyes, his ears flipping back. 

“The forge?”

”What?” He barked, glancing back at his party. Three coursers stared back at him.

”I didn’t say anything,” Pocket said, her brown eyes wide as she glanced over her shoulder. Spot shook his head, and Icon— Icon was looking at something to their left.

”The forge?”

Perth scowled and followed Icon’s gaze, his brows bouncing up and his ears pricking forward as he realized what the heraldic courser was looking at. There was a dwarf, most of his face hidden by a rugged beard and a smashed helmet. The suggestion of blood oozed over one eye. The form was so ethereal, he seemed to have no torso at all, his legs and his shoulders connected by some invisible force field in between.

”There’s no forge here,” Perth finally said. He saw Spot frown out of the corner of his eye.

”The forge?”

Perth scowled. “No forge,” he said. “This room has, erm—“ He paused. Before he could actually answer, Pocket slipped by him; he heard the splash of her hooves in shallow water a few moments after.

”Oh it’s beautiful!” She called, her voice echoing. “No forge though!”

”See?” Perth said, turning to ward off the spirt, but— It was already gone. He rolled his eyes. “Fucking spirits,” he muttered. “Harvester’s really slacking, isn’t it?”

Spot eyed him. “Watch what you say,” he murmured softly, pausing at the doorframe. “Pocket…are you sure you should touch that?”

Pocket giggled. “I’ll be careful!” She called. “Isn’t it beautiful, though? I wonder who left all this here.”

Perth grunted and pushed past the chestnut, grinning as he realized what Pocket had found. The room was flooded, which was a bit strange given how hot it had been just a few yards before crossing the threshold, and the walls and ceilings were ornately decorated — but it was not the mosaics or shimmering tiles that had caught the madder champagne’s attention. No, it was the vases and pots upon pedestals, intricately studded with gems. Pocket was content to simply admire, but Perth hadn’t come down here just for fun. He reached forward to pick up a vase and no sooner had his lips closed around the handle than did it turn to ash in his mouth.

”Uhhh—“ 

The water began to swirl suddenly, a tide going out, no, a whirlpool. Perth cursed beneath his breath, shooting sideways as he splashed through the shallow, tugging water. Pocket yelped, stumbling to her knees. “Fuck!” Perth hissed, turning to try and grab the shorter courser without much thought.

”Here!” A rope hit her rump. “Grab on!” Icon called. Glancing over his shoulder, Perth realized that Spot was already holding one end, the woad courser leaning down to grab it after he spoke.

Pocket grabbed on, and Perth had to give her credit for following instruction. He grabbed her by the withers and hauled, ignoring the way skin broke beneath his teeth. Yeah, that’d hurt, but it would hurt more if she’d gotten sucked into— Wherever this was would dump them.

Spurred onwards by a desire not to be flushed deeper into the dungeon, Perth took stride after stride, pulling on Pocket while Icon and Spot did from the threshold, helped by the dry land they still stood upon.

Suddenly, all at once, Perth and Pocket stumbled forward as if released by ghostly hands, falling to their knees. Pocket panted, her eyes wide, but Perth scrambled back to his feet. 

Spot said nothing, leveling Perth with a look that said ‘I told you so’ as Icon bent forward, checking Pocket’s withers where Perth had held on.

”You see?” He said a moment later, already nosing through his pack for a salve. “The dungeon is better when we work together.”

Perth rolled his eyes, but for once, he kept his mouth shut.