Celebration & Half-Truths

The wind carried the scent of damp earth and burnt stone as the group trudged away from the dungeon's ruined entrance, their bodies aching but alive. The weight of what they had faced—what they had survived—pressed on them, but the moment their ship came into view, Tomas turned on his heel and raised his arms dramatically.

"My friends!" he bellowed. "We have faced horrors beyond mortal comprehension! We have stood before a slumbering god and denied it its feast! We have conquered a dungeon beyond our rank!"

He paused for effect, then threw a fist in the air.

"And now—WE DRINK!"

The Celebration Begins

The gangplank groaned beneath their boots as they boarded their ship, the familiar creak of wood beneath their feet a welcome contrast to the shifting madness of the dungeon.

Tomas stormed into the ship's modest supply hold, emerging moments later with a bottle of strong-smelling liquor.

Mira raised an eyebrow. "Where did you even get that?"

Tomas smirked. "Leila and I planned for victory before we even left for the dungeon."

Leila shrugged. "I like to be prepared."

Beren snatched the bottle from Tomas's hands, pulled the cork out with his teeth, and took a long swig before passing it around. "Damn, we should've died in that dungeon. I'm drinking to the fact we didn't."

Leila took the bottle next, grinning. "I'll drink to that. And to the look on your face when your flaming axe disappeared."

Beren scowled. "Too soon Leila.."

As the night went on, the ship rocked gently in the harbor, and their conversation grew louder, their words looser.

Beren leaned against a crate, waving the bottle in the air. "Y'know, I think we should be ranked up for that dungeon. We took out a whole damn war zone underground."

Mira shook her head. "That's not how ranks work."

Tomas slammed a fist on the table. "Then the system is FLAWED. If the guild doesn't give us an instant promotion, they are COWARDS!"

Leila smirked. "Oh gods, he's in speech mode again."

Tomas stood dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "We—the brave, the bold, the slightly underpaid—should be heralded as legends!"

Mira nudged Arlan. "How many more drinks before he starts challenging people to duels?"

Arlan shrugged. "I give it two."

A Moment Between Mira and Arlan

As the celebration continued, Mira and Arlan found themselves leaning against the ship's railing, away from the others. The lights of Cliff's Edge flickered in the distance, the soft crash of the waves filling the silence between them.

Mira swirled the drink in her cup, watching him carefully.

"You're quieter than usual," she said.

Arlan shrugged. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Everything," he admitted. "How close we came to dying. How strong we're getting. How much further we have to go."

Mira smirked. "That's a lot to think about. Maybe you should try drinking instead of brooding."

Arlan sighed. "I don't brood."

"You absolutely brood."

"I—"

Before he could finish, Mira leaned in and kissed him.

It was brief—a teasing press of lips, a taste of heat, a challenge.

She pulled back, smirking as Arlan blinked in stunned silence.

"You were taking to long" she teased.

Arlan opened his mouth, then closed it, completely unsure what to say.

Mira laughed, nudging him. "We'll work on that."

She walked back toward the others, leaving him standing there speechless.

The Morning After – Half-Truths & the Guild

By morning, the ship was quiet, save for the occasional groan of regret. Tomas was face-down on the table. Leila had kicked her boots off and was still sprawled across a bench. Beren, remarkably, was already awake—eating cold bread and acting like nothing happened.

Mira stretched, rubbing her temples. "Alright. Time to be responsible. Let's go lie to the Guild."

Tomas groaned. "It's not a lie. It's...selective truth."

The Guild Hall was bustling when they arrived. Mercenaries were swarming the quest board, scholars argued over maps, and clerks processed adventurers' earnings.

The same bored-looking clerk from before barely glanced up as they approached.

"Back already?" he muttered, flipping through his ledger.

Tomas cleared his throat. "We've completed the dungeon scouting quest."

"And?"

Mira stepped in smoothly. "It wasn't abandoned. There were two warring factions inside—Ogryns and a race called Vairlith. The missing scouts were caught in the middle of a conflict between them."

The clerk finally looked up, frowning. "A two-race dungeon? And we weren't aware?"

Tomas shrugged. "Not our fault the reports were bad."

Leila sighed. "The dungeon's collapsed now. Whatever was happening in there, it's over."

The clerk studied them for a moment, then nodded. He flipped open the Guild's payment ledger and scribbled something down.

"Fine. Fifty silver for the scouting report. Minus 25 for the debt."

A pouch of coins slid across the counter.

Tomas picked up the pouch and handed it to Mira. "That's the last of our Guild debt cleared."

Mira smirked. "I am never paying a dungeon fee again."

The clerk snorted. "Welcome to adventuring."

As they walked back toward the docks, Leila stretched. "So, what now?"

Tomas grinned. "We take another job."

Beren groaned. "Already?"

Tomas threw an arm around his shoulders. "Come now, my bloodthirsty friend! The world waits for no adventurer! And we are now a debt-free, battle-hardened, slightly famous group!"

Leila smirked. "That's the most Tomas thing you've ever said."

Mira glanced at Arlan as he walked beside her.

He caught her looking.

She just smirked.

Arlan swallowed.

Beren: "I vote we get a job without horrifying monsters this time."

Tomas, dramatically: "You say that, but fate has a way of proving you wrong."

Mira: "He's right, you know."

Beren: "…We're going to be fighting something awful again, aren't we?"

Leila patted his back. "Most likely."

The group laughed, heading back toward their ship.

Their next adventure waited.

But tonight, they had silver in their pockets, no debt, and—for the first time in a long time—some peace.

At least, until tomorrow.