Chương 5

Fritz awoke, this wasn't the worst way to wake. For one, he was significantly warmer than he had been when he passed out.

"Ah, is this paradise? It's so warm and my aches are fading. And is this an avatar of the beautiful Goddess Alestria I see before me? Was I worthy enough in death to enter her glorious realm?" he asked the bright blue eyes looming over him. Sid, for his part, was startled by the question, "I don't know about no goddess, mate. You must be crazy. Seeing things are you?" he blustered in a voice both gruffer and lower than his usual tone.

Fritz merely smirked, "My mistake, of course, how could I confuse the vicious "Scarf Hangman" Sid for anything but the thug he is?"

"Feelin' better? I'll be takin' my blanket back then," Sid said, stealing away one of the many oilcloths covering Fritz.

"No, I'm still freezing!" Fritz lied, trying to hold onto the oilcloth, scattering the others covering his form. Sid tore the blanket away from Fritz's grip and was about to give him a gloating stare and cruel smirk when his brow rose and his eyes widened. He swiftly turned away and stalked off instead of continuing their exchange.

"Huh, why am I naked?" Fritz asked his retreating back.

"Did you do this? Was this your price for the lending of the blanket? You pervert! You scoundrel! And now you flee from your crime!? What of my dignity? What of my virtue? Didn't Bert tell you of my virtue?! I told him to tell you all!" A grin stretched his face as he shouted and affected outrage. While he didn't know why Sid had been so bothered, he'd use anything to get under his skin. It was quite amusing.

Sid strode away from Fritz's stupid accusations, winding his way through the green pillars that stood scattered around the Door Room in no particular pattern. Eventually, he found his way to the rest of the crew who were standing or sitting around. They were currently concentrating on carving up the Quicksilver Swordfish, having dragged it here for more space to do the butchering of that monstrous metallic fish.

"Fritz is up and he's acting crazy," Sid explained.

"Sounds like Fritz," Toby replied as he scraped the scaly skin from the strangely silver, pale, fish meat.

"Al, go deal with him, he's your best friend," Jane chided.

"And your bag-brother," she added while stacking the fillets of flesh in a wet pile.

"He's always the worst when he wakes up. Especially if he's hurt," Albert groused.

"But fine, he is, after all, my bag-brother," he said stoically. Greg grunted, Jane smiled and Toby simply rolled his eyes.

"Sid, you're strong, come over here and help me snap these bones! They're way tougher than normal fish bones, can't just swallow these," Greg said, laughing at his own joke. He was sweating as he wrestled with the fish's rib cage and spine, attempting to pull them apart.

"Oi, where's my fish!?" Fritz's voice echoed off the pillars.

"I call dibs on the blade!"

"Damn it!" Greg growled as he finally separated a rib with a loud snap.

"He can't just call dibs can he?"

"It is his fish. We'll speak on it when he gets here," Albert said.

"And when he's dressed," Sid added, feeling some heat rising to their cheeks.

"Ah, sorry you had to see that," Albert apologised.

"As I said, he's the worst when he's recovering."

"It's not that bad a sight," Jane said a small smile on one side of her face. Toby's face darkened.

"What, don't look at me like that. I'm just telling it how it is," she chided, slapping him on the shoulder playfully and splattering him with fishy slime. His expression only grew more morose, then disgusted.

"Yuck."

"Oh, sorry," Jane said, leaning in and kissing his cheek. He maintained the facade of a sour mood, but a smiled tugged at his lips. Albert left them, knowing he shouldn't leave Fritz alone for too long.

Fritz took another, more thorough, look at his situation, glancing around at the room filled with pillars of that green stone. It was as dense as a forest. The pillars joined the ceiling and the floor and many had 'branches' reaching out from their 'trunks' while the blue marbling resembled roots crawling up inside them. The floor was surprisingly warm. Fritz ran his hand over the sleek surface and felt as the marbling radiated its own subtle heat into the green stone.

The air that stirred between the pillars was pleasantly dry, something he had never felt before, having never left the confines of Rain City. Also his fish was missing and he was naked and covered in five oilcloths, the whole crew's. He felt a warmness in his chest at that. He hadn't feared that Bert would leave him behind but the others, well, it felt good to know they still stayed for him and cared enough to allow him the use of their blankets.

Fritz then found his calf wound had been tended to while he was 'dead'. A greasy, light-yellow paste that smelled of bile and mint had been applied to the cut liberally and the gaping cut had been sewn together with some of that coarse twine. He poked the wound gingerly, there was a decided numbness to the wound where the grease-paste substance was slathered. Some kind of herbal remedy? But where did they get it? Wait, his fish was missing, he realised, again, catching the thought, and holding it tight this time.

Damn it! Better call dibs on the blade before someone steals it. E specially Toby. A nd double especially Greg!

"Oi, where's my fish!?" Fritz yelled in the right direction of the fish thieves.

"I call dibs on the blade!" Fritz smiled malevolently to himself when he heard Greg grunt something he couldn't quite hear. He gave a mental shrug. One way or another he would get his prize. Not important right now, what is important right now are clothes. N o more nakedness for now, I think. N o matter how much it seemed to bother Sid. Serves him right for looming over me like that, though. H ope he's not also after my blade.

Fritz found his clothes, drying in that wonderfully welcome breeze, hanging from one of the pillar's weird green branches. He decided to walk to them on his injured right leg, to test out how bad he'd be slowed down, and discovered it was less painful than he'd imagined it would be. However, there was a sharp twinge deep in the wound when he put weight on that leg. Nothing Fritz couldn't handle, he'd suffered much worse than this before.

He hobbled, staggered then once he gained his balance, Fritz strode toward the pillar that held his clothes for him. He took down his cream-coloured linen shirt and threw it on. He looked at his grey almost black woollen pants, the rent in his pants had been mended by that same deft hand that closed his wound. He smiled at that kindness and attempted to pull them on along with his thankfully unsoiled silken undergarments.

"Never would have heard the end of that," he said to himself, as he slipped on the luxuriously smooth and cool lavender fabric. He then thumbed an embroidered crest depicting a white ship on its left side. For luck.

"Never would have heard the end of what?" Bert inquired as he poked out his golden-haired head from behind a pillar. Fritz startled, put too much weight on his hurt leg and winced from the pulse of pain.

"Ouch. Did you have to sneak up on me? I'm injured you know, and you haven't even prepared any Sickman's Soup for me," Fritz complained as he hitched up his trousers and buttoned them tightly.

"Sorry, all out of the secret ingredient," Bert apologised insincerely.

"I thought the secret ingredient was love, are you saying you're all out of love for me?" Fritz asked with mock hurt.

"You know the secret ingredient is drowned rat, no rats in here and no water to drown 'em. No living things here at all. Well, save for us," Bert informed Fritz seriously, though he still grinned.

"The others? How many made it?" Fritz asked dropping his voice and his mocking tone. Bert's grin slipped, then he answered, "Of our crew? We all made it in. Of the whole lot of us? I counted twenty-one, including you and me."

"Nine didn't make it?" Fritz asked, shaken. He hadn't known the others well, but still, he had known them at least in passing. Bert nodded sombrely.

"Seems a waste," Fritz said sombrely.

"All of them just drowned or fish food." Bert nodded again, then stretched his shoulders in a shrug."Steve's Group went in as nine, grabbed some of the people who didn't have a crew to replace those who didn't make it. Veronica, you know the redhead who works at Tallie's Trawler? Pretty, brown eyes. Well, she and her friend Lynn gathered the other girls and set off together. Six of them. No stragglers, save us. And now that you're caught up let's go join the group. You've got a Door to choose."

"Right," Fritz said. Bert picked up the oilcloth blankets left scattered, then handed Fritz's one to him. He could tell it was his on account of the gaping hole in its centre. Motioning to Fritz, Bert then led the way towards the catch and the crew. Fritz followed with a slight limp, inspecting the damage done to his oilcloth and thinking on ways to salvage any use from it. They made their way to the crew, weaving through the copious pillars in a companionable silence, each occupied by their own thoughts.

When they came upon his crew. Fritz could see that they were expertly stripping the fish of anything of value and use. Anyone who grew up hungry in Rain City knew how to clean a fish, and they had grown up very hungry. Now that he had the time, and light, to really look at the monster, he could see that it was over twelve feet long, and that wasn't including the sword that sprout from it head like a nose.

The fish was wider, or was it taller, than he expected, its rib-cage stretching to five feet, almost half it's length. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Jane was stacking fillets of the oddly glittery fish flesh into small piles. Toby was busy cutting sections of scaled skin into different sizes, while Greg and Sid were busy tearing apart the creature's sleek metal skeleton. Bert walked to Toby's area and deposited the oilcloths beside him. Toby grunted in thanks.

"My, what a good job you've all done processing my catch," Fritz exclaimed when he was close to the Swordfish's head blade.

"Wonderful. Oh, and Jane thanks for patching me and my pants up, your needlework is impeccable. It's keeping me well stitched together. And here I was thinking Toby was just exaggerating how good your sew jobs were. At least, that's what I think he said." Fritz smiled innocently as Toby's eyes turned on him in a glare. Greg guffawed and Jane rolled her eyes.

"Is that how you thank someone for sewing you up Fritz, next time I'll sew your lips together too so we don't have to deal with your post-hurt absurdity," Jane retorted with a dismissive shake of her head.

"You're right, I'm sorry," Fritz said soberly.

"Thanks Jane," He flashed her one of his more dashing smiles, then looked over the remains of the fish.

"What are the plans for the fish parts? Except the blade that is, for which I have invoked the sacred right of dibs." Bert spoke up for the crew.

"Well, first we're gonna turn all these scaly skins into some armour, sew them onto the oilcloth and other pieces of clothing. The scales are pretty tough, almost as tough as iron. And the skin is soft enough to sew, so it's the next best thing to armour we can use. Then we're gonna make some bags or sacks to carry all this monster meat, we won't be going hungry any time soon if we can cook up this fish. We should be able to find some wood on one of the Floors."

"And I've heard monster meat is good for you. Very good! Makes you stronger, tougher and heal fast," Greg added enthusiastically.

"It's high in mana density, so it does do those things to a limit. I read it won't take you above the 'leveless human limit', whatever that is. So you still need to climb Spires to get strong," Sid commented with unexpected expertise.

"You can read!?" Fritz cried out incredulously.

"What do you read Sid? Shop signs, statue plaques, sordid love letters that you steal from unsuspecting couples?"

"I do read. Books, scrolls, you name it I read it," Sid said challenging Fritz with a glare that threatened strangulation.

"Sid the scarlet scarfed scourge, studies scrolls?" Fritz alliterated astoundedly and annoyingly.

"Yes, I do. Got a problem with that, Fritz?" Sid asked.

"Not really. Just surprised is all. We must be the most literate team in the entire Sunken Ring, a full six out of six readers, one and all," Fritz replied.

"Anyway, what are we doing with the fish skeleton then?"

"Breaking it to pieces," Greg grunted "What does it looks like?" Fritz could see the man had fashioned what looked like scaled oven mitts to cover his hands while he pulled and twisted at the sleek, silver nose-blade some more. With the help of Sid with a set of similar scale mitts, a monumental heaving and a bit of clever levering, the blade snapped free of the skull with a loud crack.

"Hah! It's free!" shouted Greg before picking it up and tossing it at Fritz's feet. It skittered along the green marble coming to a stop at his boots.

"There you go, lord fish-slayer, caller of dibs. Your trophy awaits," said Bert patting Fritz on the shoulder.

"Finally you all recognise my greatness and offer me well-deserved praise for the mighty deeds I perform," Fritz aggrandised.

"Yes, yes, I would bow oh great Fritz fish-whisperer, but I'm busy, you know, working on this armour," Toby replied, hinting at something. Fritz smiled blandly, intent on missing his point.

"You could help you know?"

"All in due time," Fritz assuaged.

"First, my blade." Fritz crouched to pick it up, but when he realised its whole length was edged, he stopped, his hand mere inches away from another ugly cut. The blade was a hair shy of three feet long and was a shimmering sliver with a core of what looked like pearl, glittering with opalescence. Its edge was a more metallic affair entirely and looked to be clean and straight at first glance, but when inspected closely one could see it had small serrations and tiny fang-like hooks running all along it.

Nasty, glad I didn't get cut by this, it looks like a wound from this would heal slowly, bleed badly and leave a horrific scar. If you survived. Fritz grimaced and looked down at his carved calf, then up at his surprisingly unhurt hip. It seemed the tin in his pocket had caught the blade and miraculously saved him from another vicious wound. He didn't dwell on it long, he was due some good luck after all he had faced so far.

He put down the oil cloth he had been carrying and begged a knife off Bert who happily lent it to him. Fritz cut a long strip of the cloth and began wrapping it around the base of the blade in an attempt to form a facsimile of a grip. It took a couple of strips, all tightly wrapped, bound and knotted before he made any attempt to pick up the blade or dare to swing it. By the time he was done wrapping, he had gone through a third of his oil cloth.

Once he did have the courage to wield the weapon, and was sure the edge wouldn't just cut through the makeshift grip, he grasped the oil cloth hilt and lifted the bade in a duellist's stance. One his father had drilled into him when he was young. He knew his stance was shoddy and unpractised, but he did his best to recollect the thrusts, slices and footwork he had been taught. Slowly, as if dredging a gutter, he recalled that old instruction and his father's stern voice.

He shook his head free of those memories quickly, they were beginning to bring that terrible melancholy and he didn't want the crew to see him weeping. Especially if they thought it was over a fish blade. He gave the 'sword' a couple of tentative swings, the stabbed forth a few thrusts to make sure the grip wouldn't fail. He found it surprisingly heavy, definitely more so than that of a leveless's steel rapier. Fritz swung and lunged, putting the weapon and his own unpolished technique through its paces.

The grip held firm for now. It was by no means sturdy, safe or elegant, but it was usable. He expected the blade to be bone hard and rigid to boot, however, its opalescent centre and fine jagged edge were not nearly as brittle as they looked and bent and bowed with a remarkable flexibility. Fritz sped up the cuts and thrusts he performed, they whistled through the dry air and he began to get a feel for its heft, speed and reach. He ended the performance with a quick three-cut-flourish and a wide grin on his face.

The blade should do nicely, very nicely.

"Truly this sword will become a trusted weapon. A symbol of my great skill at arms and my innate chivalric poise," Fritz monologued, caught up in a moment of excitement.

"Yeah. The great Fish-blade," Bert teased.

"Fish-blade? That's a terrible name. It needs a distinguished, elegant name. I shall dub it... Quicksilver," Fritz pronounced regally.

"Whatever, can you stop playing around and help already?" Toby asked, annoyed and obviously envious of Fritz's fish-blade.

"Fine, what can I do?" Fritz asked offhandedly, laying his newly named blade safely on the floor.

"Come help sew some armour, there's not many scales left, but we should all get some bracers, and two of us get scale shirts," Jane said, inviting Fritz to come kneel by her with a wave.

"Very well, what are we using to sew? More fish bone?" Fritz questioned absently.

"Nah, I smuggled some needles in when we were captured. Which was lucky for you. Otherwise I don't think I could've sewed you up in time. But that grease paste stuff helped too I suppose," Jane explained offhandedly.

"Grease paste? Where did that come from?" Fritz asked, intrigued.

"It seems to have done a good job as I'm walking around and can barely feel any pain."

"Those little tins in the gear bags. We wouldn't have thought of them, but yours was in your pocket and leaking the stuff all over your thigh. It had been dented and mangled, much like your pants. And you, I guess. So I thought: why not? It smells like a healer's gross remedy might, let's smear it all over him," Jane added, a sly grin on her face.

"Not all over me!?" Fritz protested.

"Who do you think got those pants off and sewed you up? I could have smeared it anywhere," Jane said with a mischievous light in her eyes.

"Toby! Help! Jane is trying to poach me!" Fritz cried.

"Jane, leave Fritz alone, you know he's girl-shy and prone to mishear things," Bert said interrupting any argument that might have broken out. Fritz scowled.

"I'm not girl-shy-""Anyway, about these scale shirts," Bert continued.

"There's two of them. Let's put them on Fritz and Greg as they'll be in the front line, everyone else gets the braces and some of these fish bones. The ribs look like they'll make serviceable, if short, spears or spikes. The spine and skull is chorded with these tough tendons. It looks like it'll make a decent flail, and the fins should be great daggers or short swords."

"I want the skull-spine," demanded Greg, placing his large hands on his hips.

"Give me some fin daggers," Toby said, always happy to get his hands on some more knives.

"I'll go with some spears. I can just throw them or poke things from a distance," Jane added, obviously not keen on the idea of getting close to any monsters.

"I'll grab the top fin as a short sword, and one of those mitts as a sort of shield. Sid what do you want?" Bert asked. They all turned to Sid.

"Well I have a sling I was able to smuggle in my boot. I'm sure I can find some stones for it on the first floor. So I'll take one of the fins, maybe a spear and the bracers. That alright?" Sid asked cautiously.

"Of course, you're climbing with us, you're part of the team now. We got your back, you get ours. That's the deal," Fritz claimed in an overly friendly tone.

"Yeah. Sure," Sid said. They busied themselves amongst the fish's remains and equipped themselves with their chosen parts and newly crafted makeshift armour. Well, that is until Fritz refused to don the scale shirt afforded to him.

"No. Put it on Bert. I've got Quicksilver and you've only got that piddly little blade. You'll need all the armour you can get if a beast gets to you," Fritz argued.

"It might be a puzzle, trap or survival room for all we know. And remember, Fritz, you're always the one getting hurt," Bert said.

"I'd feel better with you wearing it. I call a crew vote on putting the scale shirt on Bert. All who agree say: 'Shirt the Bert'," Fritz commanded. There was then a torrent of voices saying "Shirt the Bert", even Sid joined in, calling out the silly phrase. Fritz grinned as he handed the scale shirt to Bert and said in a level tone that brooked no argument, "Shirt the Bert." Bert sighed, but knew he had already lost this battle. He took the makeshift armour and pulled it over his head.

The shirt hung off his wide shoulders glittered around his torso and back giving some modicum of protection. Toby smirked.

"Looking good, Bert."

"Jane! Help! Toby's trying to poach me!" Bert cried. Toby scowled, and the crew laughed. Soon, they were all equipped and ready to go. All of them wore bracers of oilcloth covered with silver scales and had bags fashioned of the remaining oilcloth or spare clothing to carry the abundant fish meat. Some had slung the bags over a shoulder, some had their bags tied around their belts, each carried theirs how they liked it. Greg was armoured and slung the spine-skull flail over his shoulders.

It was an intimidating weapon, much to his joy. The skull was heavy, and the spine had had the ribs snapped away, leaving jagged ridges jutting from its sides. And it still had a surprising amount of heft and elasticity. Jane was holding the longest of the fish ribs as a short, curved spear and had fashioned a quiver for a bunch of smaller ribs to sit in. Toby had a similar quiver of fish ribs but also had his belt full of iron knives and many of the fin blades.

Bert had the top fin, which was about two feet long and made for a decent short sword. He was also armoured up, even more so than Greg, and his scale mitt that had been wrapped multiple times with both scale and oilcloth until it resembled a shield. Sid had a fin dagger and his trusty sling tucked into his belt for easy access. He held a rib spear in each hand 'just in case one breaks.' And Fritz, well he had his deadly fish-blade, no, Quicksilver, and those selfsame scale bracers.

And tucked away in his bags were the Quicksilver Swordfish's cloudy quartz eyes wrapped in some spare waxpaper. We really look like a crew, Fritz marvelled silently. A crew of savages, but a crew nonetheless. They stood in front of the three Doors. They were all great nine-foot-tall archways of different materials and styles. The leftmost Door looked like a living tree grown in the shape of a doorway, the stairs were formed of roots, and unworked stone and dirt that led up into cool darkness.

The middle Door was a cave entrance of natural stone that led into a tunnel that emmanated a subtle red glow. The last and rightmost Door was made of stone brick and had a shimmering portal of light rather than a tunnel or stairs. They checked their gear one more time at Bert's insistence, then he turned to Fritz and asked, "Which Door?"

"Wait, we're letting Fritz pick the Door? He'll get us killed for sure," Greg grumbled.

"Yeah we're letting him pick, it's a Guide thing," Bert said reassuringly.

"A Guide thing?" Toby questioned darkly.

"Thought you said you didn't know anything about Guide Secrets," Sid accused.

"I lied," Fritz proclaimed with a false smile of confidence painted across his face.

"Some Abilities have prerequisites. Some need you to be proficient enough in your Abilities or have synergistic Abilities to evolve or unlock, some might just need you to do something or find something in a Spire. Such prerequisites can be hidden knowledge, especially Guide Abilities, as the Guides guild makes a fortune on leasing Guide contracts. Some are more common knowledge like Guard or Soldier path prerequisites. But I don't know those." Fritz shrugged.

"And some Spires give out certain powers more than others due to their alignment," Sid added sagely.

"Considering the monsters that were around it and its location underwater, this one is probably aligned to water and metal."

"What about that light at the top," Jane asked.

"I don't know, Weird-Light maybe? Not everything is known about the Spires, precious little really, and those with the knowledge don't go yelling about it," Sid replied bitterly.

"Anyway," Fritz interrupted.

"I know the prerequisite to a certain Ability that I want, and I'd ask you to all keep that a secret if you could. Because if the Guides Guild found out I knew what little I know they'd kill me, then kill you all for good measure to make sure it doesn't get out," Fritz told them flippantly. Jane gulped and Toby glared darkly, but Greg and Bert acted indifferently. Sid, however, scowled, then hissed at Fritz, "What in the Abyss Fritz? Why did you tell me this? I don't wanna get killed for your secret."

"Hey, you're part of the team now, and I trust my team." Fritz smiled in his most infuriating manner, then pointed.

"This Door! Let's get to it team!" He didn't really know where each Door went or what was behind it, no one could, but one of the prerequisites for a Guide Ability needed him to choose the Doors they would use. Another, he knew, would need him to find a hidden Door. But they were rare and never in the entry rooms. You'd have to find them on the floors themselves and h e would have to keep an eye out for them. Fritz strode towards the t ree Door, trying not to let his fear show.

He stopped before it, then, g ripping his fish - blade tightly, he walked up the loamy stairs. He hoped the others would follow quickly because he wasn't at all sure of his choice. He prayed his decision didn't kill them on the very first Floor.