"Destiny may ride with us today, but there is no reason for it to interfere with lunch." ~ Peter the Great

  The baronet Tibold von Wilmot strolled into the dark wood paneled smoking lounge of his club, where he knew he’d find his old adventuring companions – both the two who were coming along and at least three or four others who’d declined direct participation, but had put forward candidates from the younger generation of their families. Parsifal had dropped him at the main doors, with a promise to return in the late afternoon; he apparently had some meeting with the Imperial bureaucracy to secure the appropriate visas for their upcoming visit to the beastkin kingdom of Asmeria. The baronet wasn’t entirely clear on why that was necessary, but he trusted his butler to know the appropriate practical concerns.

  “Ah, Tibby! You’ve kept us waiting, old man. Lying abed, were you?”

  “Lost track of time? Or perhaps your pants?”

  The gentle ribbing from his old friends was practically a balm to his soul, if a bit rude on the face of it. He returned fire in long established patterns.

  “Nonsense! Taking care of business with the ship captain and the meeting ran a bit long. We can’t all get here to drink port and watch the sun rise!”

  A round of chuckles arose from the ring of overstuffed leather armchairs hosting half a dozen men (and one woman) with an average adventuring level approaching 50 and an average age well past that.

  His oldest friend, and one-time mentor, Wilfred von Mayenburg, eyed him judiciously – cold gray eyes still sharp below the massive bushy eyebrows. “And what’s the good word, Tibby? All in order? I’m sending my two favorite grandchildren with you, so I’d appreciate some assurances.”

  The baronet stiffened slightly out of old habit before nodding. “Yes Commandant, everything seems on track, though my efforts to speed up the timeline don’t seem to be working. We should be ready to depart in four days, I’m reliably informed. Parsifal is off securing the final permits for our visit to Asmeria now, and the ship will be freed of its current obligations at that time. We have crew for the ship, supplies for the expedition, and a committed team of ten, including myself, Parsifal, Melania (he nodded at the lone woman in the room) and Axel – to go with a half dozen youngsters including your kin.”

  Melania, now an assistant director for the Imperial School of Magic and a highly regarded sorceress, eyed him with a rueful shake of her head. “Still making poor Parsifal handle the paperwork, I see. I suppose he’s aware that you’d probably bungle it if left to your own devices.”

  Tibold was reasonably sure that was an accurate assessment all around, but he didn’t deign to acknowledge the point. “I’m more of a big picture person myself, it’s true. Pars and I make a good team.”

  That elicited a round of chuckles from all and sundry, and Axel was the next to chime in. His warm brown eyes and ruddy cheeks contrasted markedly with the old scar tracing across his face from the left brow across his nose to his right cheek – a reminder of his early career as a frontline warrior. He’d left his trademark bearded axe at home, of course, but he’d never entirely stopped training with it. “So, run us through the plan again. How are we getting to the sky island and how are we getting back?”

  The baronet sighed to himself quietly before launching into the overview for what felt like the third time today.

  “We’ll depart from the airfield four days from now at two bells past dawn. It should take us roughly two days to reach the airfield in Asmeria, where we will need to make nice with the local officials and the guild for another two days as the sky island approaches. We’ll depart on the third day early, in order to meet the sky island about two days shy of the capital. At that point, we’ll tie up to the sky island adjacent to the dungeon and delve for the next two or three days – depending on how things go and what we find there. Then, back to the ship, a quick jaunt back to Asmeria (assuming the island has crossed over to the sea) for a brief report and some resupply, then two days back to the capital here. All told, we’ll leave in four days and be gone for less than two weeks with 2-3 days of active delving. I’d like to take longer, but the dungeon shouldn’t be that big yet, and we don’t want to end up too far out to sea. I doubt the rewards for the delve will pay for the expedition, but the novel experience and the sheer adventure of it should make it worthwhile.”

  The questioning continued for a while, mostly focusing on the perceived risks offered by the presence of a dragon and the creativity of a sapient dungeon. The baronet bore up under the questioning with good grace, and once the food arrived, he was afforded some peace – at least until the afternoon port was produced, and they proceeded to drink and smoke the rest of the day away.

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  Parsifal manfully controlled his urge to yawn in the face of the imperial official with whom he was having lunch. He knew that his employer had no idea about the number of bureaucratic hoops that needed to be circumvented in order to mount this particular expedition.

  As a member of the imperial aristocracy, no matter how minor his role actually was, leading a force of higher leveled individuals into the sovereign space of another nation – even one as laissez-faire as the beastkin kingdom – required a certain amount of paperwork, assurances, and in some cases outright payments to insure the intent of the expedition wasn’t misinterpreted.

  Frankly, Parsifal was counting his blessings. The imperial government seemed generally unaware that the baronet was leading his expedition into the home territory of an adult dragon best known for throwing unwelcome residents off the sky island. Had they been clear on that, getting permission would have gone from merely annoyingly difficult to most likely impossible. That, of course, came with the caveat that if they actually upset the dragon, their best-case scenario would probably be simply getting devoured. He wasn’t actually concerned about that, of course, given their research, but he wouldn’t want to try to convince an imperial bureaucrat that the risk was negligible.

  Speaking of which, he was currently wining and dining an upper-level administrative functionary with the official title of Assistant God-Botherer. Outsiders to the Empire often found that amusing, but it was, in fact, an aptly descriptive title. The God-Emperor of the Von Rurith Empire was rarely active these days, and on the even rarer occasions when his rest must be disturbed, the God-Botherers were the ones who risked a smiting to gain his attention. Parsifal thought that an admirable devotion to duty, as the odds at last assessment were about one in three that the God-botherer gained the deity’s attention and, when successful, about one in three that they didn’t live to do so again.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  With that level of potential sacrifice came significant authority within the government. Assistant God-Botherer Von Geistliche was, more or less unofficially, in charge of relations with the beastkin kingdom of Asmeria. He was, understandably, not entirely happy at the notion of a bunch of semi-retired, high-level adventurers taking a sudden jaunt into an area where he’d been slowly building goodwill after some decades of conflict.

  The tall, thin, rather ascetic looking administrator was massaging his temples and looking a bit put upon. “Yes, Parsifal, I understand that you have cleared it with her majesty’s government. And that you’ll only be in their capital for a couple of days. And that you promise to keep the baronet out of their halls of government. That said, I know that YOU know adventurers tend not to be the best at following well-meaning advice.”

  Parsifal conceded the point gracefully. “That’s very true, your eminence, but you also must recognize that the beastkin tend to LIKE that about adventurers; they find unpredictability exciting and they love a good story. The expeditionary staff is, I promise you, far more likely to take up residence in a tavern and share tales of their exploits rather than cause trouble with the government. You might even consider it a likely positive in our relations with the beastkin. You know that the Empire tends to be seen as rather stiff and stodgy in Asmeria, of course. Between myself and the Assistant Director for the Institute of Magic, we should be able to guide the rest into tamer, less troublesome activities in preparation for the dungeon exploration. It’s not as though you find many old adventurers who dislike telling tales of their glorious exploits. The risk of significant trouble would be greater after the delving, but we’ll be headed directly home within hours of leaving the sky island. I scheduled it that way rather intentionally.”

  “Oh? Is the Assistant Director going? Who else is on the expeditionary staff?”

  Parsifal smiled internally. Headway was being made, in that the God-Botherer seemed willing to concede their departure. “Besides the baronet, myself, and the Assistant Director, only Sir Axel von Himmelsmann returns from our original party. The other six adventurers are younger scions of our old party members – including Commandant Von Mayenburg’s oldest grandchildren most notably. I assure you, their training was almost certainly the most formal and expansive he could provide. I daresay they’d make successful diplomats if they didn’t prefer more direct action like their patriarch. They’ll not embarrass you.”

  The administrator nodded his begrudging acceptance. “Of course, of course. It is simply my job to worry about these things, as you know.” He sighed tiredly. “That said, you will have the appropriate permits tomorrow morning. I will have someone from our embassy meet your airship in the Asmerian capital; please allow them to assist with any administrative contacts the Asmerians may require.”

  Parsifal smiled his acceptance of their official babysitter. “Of course, your eminence. I will gladly accept any assistance the embassy sees fit to offer.”

  From there, the conversation devolved carefully to the sort of discreet small talk shared by men of their background, covering nothing of great import until the meal had concluded and they each returned to their separate labors.

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  Eventually, the Professors Keradji surfaced from their readers to discover that, having neglected breakfast, they didn’t care to also skip lunch. They also found that neither of them particularly wanted to take responsibility for cooking, leaving them with little in the way of real food to consume.

  Their argument over what to do in this scenario took place largely in silence, knowing that whoever first admitted to being hungry would likely be on the hook for retrieving food. Still, it wasn’t long until the rumbles of Ahmed’s stomach forced him to concede the battle; a crafty warrior with long experience in making the best of a losing hand, he made his proposal.

  “What say we don some actual clothes and stroll down to the plaza for a quick bite at the food stalls. We can bring our readers and grab some food and a drink and enjoy the pleasant weather?”

  Raina smiled, recognizing that was the best offer she was likely to get. “Sounds good, my dear. You can pay for the food; I’ll cover the kaffe. And we can give each other a quick synopsis of what we’ve learned so far.”

  He bestowed a conciliatory smile upon her gracious victory. “Of course, love. We likely should also chat a bit about who else we might introduce to the dungeon. Figuring out who can be trusted with a secret and who won’t be in competition with us directly may be a bit tricky. Probably we should start with those whom we owe a favor, then move on to those who we’d want to owe US a favor.” His smile took on a slightly more predatory look that had his wife shaking her head.

  “You don’t need to be so transactional, Ahmed. We aren’t really in need of any favors at this stage. You recall that we’re Professors Emeritus, yes? Technically speaking, we should probably offload this work onto the new generation.” She dismissed his rapid, sputtering denial.

  “Of course, we aren’t going to do that, Ahmed!” she said, impishly. “I was just saying that we SHOULD. You and I both know we want to make this a final high point of our careers. Obviously, it’d be better if we had figured these things out for ourselves, but the work of adapting this outworlder knowledge to our own knowledge system is almost as important. I can’t think of any scholar worth their salt who’d pass up this opportunity.”

  He bumped her with his shoulder as they finished dressing and headed towards the door. “Don’t scare me like that woman! I thought you’d had a stroke or something,” he teased his wife, who elbowed him back smartly with a grin.

  “You’re too easy. Seriously, though, who else should we bring in on this project? I can only assume the dungeon has other knowledge better suited for scholars in other disciplines.”

  Ahmed shrugged as they made their way down the hall and out the front door. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s get food, then you and I can take 20 minutes with our readers to go through our list of professional contacts. We’ll each make a short list of, let’s say, five scholars, then we can combine the lists and sort out our best options.”

  She hugged him briefly. “I appreciate that you always manage to come up with a reasonable plan. On the way, we can brainstorm the criteria we want to use to make up the list. The dungeon didn’t actually say how many scholars he wanted to meet, did he? Just ones interested in the sky islands and obscure magical systems? That’s going to limit our choices significantly, isn’t it? We can give him other scholars too, but if we’re trying to meet his request, I can only think of a few people that I know personally who’d fit even those basic categories...

  Ahmed put an arm around her waist as they reached the street and began moving towards the plaza. “Quite right. We might actually have to do a little research to find appropriate candidates outside of our own network. That’d require extra vetting, though, so let’s start with people we know, people we trust, and people who won’t horn in on our areas of interest.”

  Raina nodded, thoughtfully. “We also want people whose knowledge we respect, people who won’t try to manipulate the dungeon for their own profit (more than us, at any rate), and people who, ideally, would recognize they owe us something for bringing them in on this opportunity. There’s some overlap, but that’s a lot to ask for in a single researcher.”

  At that, they each retreated into their own thoughts until they’d reached the plaza, whereupon the scent of a wide array of spiced foods at the many brightly colored stalls had them, at least temporarily, putting their more scholarly considerations aside.