Chapter 163 — Elira and Dallin

Chapter 163: Chapter 163 — Elira and Dallin

He found them at the guild hall’s training yard the following afternoon, Elira working through a series of drills against a padded post while Dallin watched from the sidelines, offering commentary that sounded considerably more critical than his relaxed posture suggested he actually meant.

"You’re overcommitting on the follow-through," Dallin said, as Arlen approached. "Same thing you did yesterday."

"I’m aware, thank you." Elira lowered her blade, breathing hard, and caught sight of Arlen before she’d fully recovered her composure. "Well. Look who finally resurfaced."

"Been a while," Arlen admitted.

"A while’s generous. We’d started placing bets on whether you’d actually left the city entirely." Dallin grinned, clasping Arlen’s arm with the same easy warmth he’d shown since their first proper conversation weeks ago. "Good to see you upright. Heard rumors you weren’t, for a stretch."

"Rumors travel faster than I’d like," Arlen said.

"Welcome to Aurenholt," Elira said, sheathing her blade. "Word moves through this guild hall like water through a cracked jug. Come on, we were about done here regardless. Tell us properly over food, rather than standing around sweating at each other."

They settled at a modest tavern a short walk from the guild district, considerably quieter than the Sundered Rest’s usual dungeon-adjacent crowd, and Arlen found himself, sharing a meal with two people who’d become genuine friends over the past month, settling into the easy, unhurried rhythm he’d missed without quite realizing it.

"So," Elira said, once their food arrived. "Solo diving. How’s that actually working out for you?"

"Better than I expected, mostly," Arlen said. "Learned a lot faster than I would have with a party setting the pace."

"That tracks. I’ve thought about trying it myself, honestly, once I’m confident enough in my own footing." Elira studied him with genuine curiosity rather than her old, competitive edge. "How deep have you actually pushed?"

"Fifth floor, currently. Getting comfortable with it before I go further."

Dallin let out a low whistle. "Fifth, solo, this early past orientation. That’s ambitious."

"Ambitious or reckless, depending who you ask," Arlen said, thinking briefly of the pit trap and deciding this wasn’t the moment to elaborate. "Floor’s bigger than anything I expected. Took me longer than I planned just to see a fraction of it properly."

"That’s the thing nobody tells you about the deeper floors," Elira said. "Everyone talks about the danger. Nobody mentions the sheer scale of the place. I did a party dive to Floor Four last week and we barely covered a third of it in a full day."

"Same experience, more or less," Arlen said. "Though I did learn the hard way that not every patch of ground down there is trustworthy."

"Oh?" Dallin leaned forward, curiosity plain.

"Found what I’m fairly sure was a deliberately built trap. Fell in before I properly tested the ground." Arlen kept the account deliberately light, more anecdote than confession. "Cost me a couple days and a very annoyed conversation with my armorer."

"Kellan?" Elira asked.

"Kellan."

"He complained to me for a full ten minutes last month about someone bringing him a sword with the grip worn wrong from bad form," Dallin said. "Didn’t say who. Now I’m wondering."

"That might have been someone else," Arlen said, entirely unconvincingly, and Dallin’s grin widened.

They talked a while longer, the conversation drifting easily between guild gossip, comparisons of which floors held the most tedious wildlife, and Elira’s ongoing, good-natured argument with Dallin about whether a shield or a second blade made for better party utility on the upper floors. Arlen found himself contributing where he could, genuinely enjoying the simple, unhurried pleasure of conversation that demanded nothing more complicated of him than being present.

"You’ve changed since orientation," Elira said, at one point, studying him with the same evaluating attention she’d once aimed at him purely out of rivalry. "Steadier, maybe. Or just more comfortable in your own skin."

"Solo work does that, I think," Arlen said. "Or maybe it’s just time. Everything settles eventually, if you give it long enough."

"Profound," Dallin said, deadpan, and ducked the good-natured swat Elira aimed at his shoulder.

"I mean it," Elira said, though her tone stayed light. "You were careful before. Guarded, almost, like you were still deciding whether any of us were worth the effort. You’re not like that anymore."

Arlen considered that, turning it over honestly. "Guess I decided you were worth it, then."

"High praise," Elira said, grinning. "Don’t let it go to your head, Dallin. He means me specifically."

"Rude," Dallin said, entirely unbothered, and reached across to steal a piece of bread from her plate in retaliation.

The conversation wound on into the evening, easy and unhurried in a way Arlen found himself genuinely grateful for — not the careful, deliberate work of a dive, not the quiet, private satisfaction of a new discovery, simply the ordinary, uncomplicated warmth of friendship, built slowly across a month of shared briefings and shared exhaustion until it had become something he trusted without needing to think about it.

"We should do a proper dive together sometime," Dallin said, as the evening finally began winding down. "The three of us. See how a solo diver actually works inside a formation again, after however many weeks of doing your own thing down there."

"I’d like that," Arlen said, and found he meant it entirely.

"Don’t get too excited," Elira said. "I still fully intend to outpace you both eventually. Consider this fair warning."

"Wouldn’t expect anything less," Arlen said.

They parted ways near the guild hall’s entrance, Elira and Dallin heading back toward their own lodgings, and Arlen found himself walking back toward the Foxglove with the particular, settled satisfaction of an evening well spent — no danger, no discovery, simply the quiet, ordinary pleasure of people who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company, trading easy conversation about a dungeon that, for one evening at least, had felt considerably less dangerous in the retelling than it had actually been to live through.

He found the common room already settling into its later, quieter rhythm when he arrived, and made his way upstairs without much ceremony, already looking forward to whatever the Sixth Floor might have waiting for him, once he was properly ready to go looking for it again.