A Devil in the Dungeon: Dinner with a Debtor

Dinner with a Debtor

One week into her new life in Orario, Tanya found herself standing in the middle of a weapons shop, contemplating a shelf of sharpened steel.

The dungeon was a dangerous place. This was a fact that she had become intimately acquainted with over the past seven days. Her borrowed equipment had served her well enough in the upper floors, but it was beginning to wear. The cuirass was dented and battered and she was beginning to worry that the defense it offered was falling behind the weight it produced upon her shoulders. Furthermore, while her knife was adequate, it was meant to be a fallback weapon, hardly meant for the rigors she was putting it through.

If she wished to maintain her current pace without endangering herself beyond reason, she would need to acquire more adequate supplies.

To that end, Tanya had set aside a small sum from her earnings. The exact figure had been carefully calculated, enough to purchase serviceable equipment without biting into her margins or risking her ability to pay off her debt. Every Valis spent was a Valis that wasn’t going toward her freedom, but dying in the dungeon would be even more costly in the long run.

She had spent the better part of the morning browsing the various weapons shops, searching for something that wouldn’t break the proverbial bank. The selection was vast, ranging from high-quality steel that cost more than her entire debt, to rusted scraps that would likely shatter on first contact with a monster.

Tanya had narrowed her options down to two.

The first was a straight sword with a simple cross guard. The blade showed signs of wear, with a manageable amount of rust that could be cleaned off with proper maintenance. It was a serviceable weapon, or at least it would be once she serviced it. However, the blade was short, and she was in the throes of puberty and still growing. She would outgrow it rather quickly, and purchasing a weapon that would need replacing in a matter of months was poor resource management.

The second option was a saber with a half-moon guard. The blade was unadorned and unengraved, lacking the ornamental flourishes that seemed to drive up the price of other weapons in the shop. That said, she was looking for functionality over beauty, and it was honestly quite well-made when compared to the others sitting on the shelves. The only downside was the hilt, which allowed space for only a single hand. Other than that, it was a perfectly fine weapon.

Tanya glanced down, reading the price tag. Fifteen thousand Valis. A bit steep for her blood, but easily haggled down with a few of the right words.

Tanya took the saber off the shelf and brought it up to the counter. The shopkeeper, a stocky man with a thick beard and hands that looked capable of crushing stones, looked up from his ledger.

His eyes, dark and beady beneath a shelf of brow, flicked between Tanya and the weapons she had been examining for the past quarter hour.

“You’ve been staring at those two for a while,” he observed, voice grating. “You planning to buy something, or just window shopping?”

Tanya straightened, her hand still resting on the saber’s hilt. “I’m giving my selection the thought it deserves. It wouldn’t do to entrust my life to poor quality armaments.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing here is poor quality, kid. You want something that’ll kill goblins, I’ve got it. You want something to wave around to your friends and make you look all tough, go somewhere else.”

Tanya frowned slightly. The man’s bluntness was refreshing, in a way. No false promises of grandeur, no inflated claims about the weapons’ pedigree. Just the bare facts, delivered with the subtlety of a brick through a window.

“I’ll take the saber,” she decided. “I will require a scabbard as well.”

“Scabbards are extra,” the shopkeeper said, already reaching beneath the counter. “Another five hundred. You want it fitted to your hip or your back?”

“Hip. I prefer my weapon accessible rather than theatrical.”

He grunted in acknowledgment and produced a simple leather sheath from beneath the counter. It was worn but clearly well-made, the stitching intact and the leather supple enough to not crack when drawn. Tanya inspected it briefly before nodding her acceptance.

“Fifteen thousand five hundred,” the shopkeeper said, scratching the figure onto a scrap of parchment. “You paying in stones or coin?”

Tanya held up a hand. “Hold a moment, let us discuss the price.”

The shopkeeper’s expression shifted, amusement flickering across his weathered features. “You want to haggle? You look like you just crawled out of the orphanage, kid. What do you know about pricing weapons?”

“Enough to know that fifteen thousand is excessive for a blade of this quality,” Tanya replied, turning the saber so that the light caught the edge. “The steel is decent, I’ll grant you, but the balance is slightly off. The weight distribution favors the tip, which suggests it was forged by someone who prioritized reach over maneuverability. A common mistake in amateur weapons.”

The shopkeeper’s amusement faded, replaced by something closer to grudging interest. “You’ve got a sharp eye.”

“I’ve had experience with blades,” Tanya said, which was technically true. “The hilt wrapping is also starting to fray at the edges. Nothing a bit of leather work won’t fix, but it indicates the weapon has seen use. It’s not new, is it?”

“Consignment piece,” the shopkeeper admitted. “Adventurer needed quick coin, sold it to me last week. I cleaned it up, sharpened the edge, but you’re right that it’s not fresh from the forge.”

“Then fifteen thousand is unreasonable for a secondhand weapon,” Tanya said, setting the saber on the counter. “Twelve thousand. That’s fair for both of us.”

The shopkeeper crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Thirteen five. I’ve got overhead to consider and it’s still a good piece. Rent doesn’t pay itself.”

“Twelve five,” Tanya countered. “And I’ll take the scabbard for free. I doubt many would look close enough at this sword to consider actually buying it. It’ll just continue to take up space unless I take it off your hands.”

​The man snorted, but there was a glint of respect in his eyes now. “You drive a hard bargain for someone who barely comes up to my counter.” He studied her for a long moment, then shrugged. “Fine. Twelve five for the saber, but the scabbard’s another three hundred. Final offer.”

Tanya considered pushing further, but recognized the tone in his voice. He had reached his floor, and pressing the issue would only sour the transaction. “More than reasonable, thank you.”

​The shopkeeper wrapped the saber in a length of worn cloth and tied it with a bit of twine. Meanwhile, Tanya counted out the coins from her pouch, twelve thousand, eight hundred in various denominations, and slid them across the counter.

The man swept them into his palm and began counting, his lips moving silently as he verified the total. Satisfied, he dropped the coins into a strongbox beneath the counter and pushed the wrapped weapon toward her.

“Pleasure doing business,” he said, the words more routine than sincere. “You need anything else, you know where to find me.”

“I’m certain I will,” Tanya replied, tucking the wrapped saber under her arm. “Good day.”

She turned and made her way toward the exit, her mind already turning over her next set of priorities. The saber was a solid investment, one that would serve her well in the coming weeks. She would need to break it in properly, familiarize herself with its weight and balance before relying on it in combat. Perhaps she could find a secluded area of the upper floors to practice–

“Hey! Excuse me!”

Tanya paused mid-step, and turned to find two figures approaching from down the street. A man and a woman, both dressed in armor. Adventurers.

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with tanned skin and dark hair that fell in loose waves around his face. His features were classically handsome, the kind that seemed sculpted rather than born. The woman beside him was shorter, with auburn hair tied back in a braid and a soft face that dimpled with her smile.

They gazed at her with a strange amount of familiarity despite the fact that Tanya was certain she had never met them before. She eyed them and the sun emblem crested upon the breastplate of their armor.

A sun, she thought, fighting a sneer. These two belonged to the Apollo Familia.

But what did they want with her? Were they here to lord the debt over her head or–even worse–to try and convince or even coerce her to join their familia?

Tanya withheld a guarded expression as the two approached, stopping just short of her.

The woman spoke first, her smile warm and genuine. “Sorry to startle you! We saw you coming out of the shop and wanted to catch you before you disappeared.”

“You’ve been making quite a name for yourself this past week,” the man added, his deep voice carrying the easy confidence of someone used to being heard. “A solo adventurer clearing the upper floors at your age? That’s not something you see every day.”

Tanya kept her expression neutral. “I’m simply making efficient use of my time. Is there something I can help you with?”

The two exchanged a glance that Tanya couldn’t quite interpret. The woman’s smile dimmed slightly, replaced by something more earnest.

“Actually, we wanted to talk to you about something,” she said. “My name is Lucia Dore, and this is Dorian Vellius. We’re members of the Apollo Familia.”

“I know who you are,” Tanya said, her voice slightly angry. “You’re here about the debt, I assume.”

Lucia blinked, surprise flickering across her features. “The debt? No, we–well, yes, that’s part of it, but that’s not why we wanted to talk to you.”

“We’re the ones who found you,” Dorian said, crossing his arms over his chest. “When you came out of the Dungeon. You were in bad shape so we helped you out. We brought you to the Guild but couldn’t stick around to make sure you were alright.”

Tanya’s grip on the wrapped saber tightened fractionally. “I see. Then I suppose I owe you my thanks for your timely intervention.”

The words came out flat, stripped of any genuine warmth, and it was clear that both adventurers noticed it.

“You don’t owe us anything,” Lucia said quickly, her hands rising in a placating gesture. “We just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Anyone would have done the same.”

“Anyone with the means and the inclination,” Tanya said. “I’ve found that altruism is far less common than people like to pretend.”

Dorian studied her with an unreadable expression, his crystal-blue eyes sharp despite his relaxed posture. “You’ve got a cynical outlook for someone so young.”

“I prefer the term ‘realistic,’” Tanya replied. “Now, if that’s all you wanted to say, I should be going. I have preparations to make for tomorrow’s dungeon run.”

“Wait, please.” Lucia stepped forward, her expression earnest. “We didn’t come here to make you uncomfortable. We just... we wanted to make sure you were alright. And to explain something about the debt.”

Tanya paused, one eyebrow raised. “Explain what, exactly?”

Lucia glanced at Dorian, who gave a slight nod. She turned back to Tanya, her smile fading into something more serious.

“We had nothing to do with the debt,” Lucia said. “When we brought you to the Guild, we were prepared to cover the cost of the potions ourselves. It wouldn’t have been a burden—our Familia has resources, and we were the ones who found you. It felt like our responsibility.”

“But?”

Lucia’s brow furrowed. “But our god... Lord Apollo, he insisted on covering the cost himself.”

“And I’m guessing you believe his intentions weren’t entirely benevolent?.”

Dorian’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Lord Apollo has his quirks. He’s a good god, for the most part. He treats his children well, provides for us, ensures we want for nothing. But he can be possessive when something catches his eye. He has a habit of latching onto people he finds interesting and finding ways to bring them into his Familia.”

“The debt was supposed to be a way to bring you into the fold,” Lucia admitted, her cheeks coloring slightly. “It’s not... it’s not how we would have handled it. But Lord Apollo doesn’t always consult us before making decisions.”

Tanya felt her eye twitch. Of course. How utterly predictable. A god abusing their power to acquire trinkets in the form of adventurers who caught their fancy, all while disguising it as benevolence. The manipulation was so transparent that it would have been almost insulting if it weren’t so typical.

Still, it seemed that the god acted unilaterally, and at least some of his followers were uncomfortable with his methods. Interesting. A crack in the facade, or simply the natural friction that existed in any organization?

“I appreciate your candor,” Tanya said, and she meant it. Information was valuable, and these two were providing it freely. “However, my position remains unchanged. I intend to pay off the debt through my own efforts, not through servitude.”

Dorian uncrossed his arms, his posture relaxing slightly. “We’re not here to pressure you into anything. Actually, we wanted to suggest something else entirely,” he said. “Would you be willing to sit down with us for a meal? Somewhere we can talk properly?”

Tanya’s eyes narrowed. “And what would be the purpose of this conversation?”

“To clear the air,” Dorian said. “You’re clearly under the impression that we’re here to strong-arm you into joining our Familia. We’re not. I thought if we explained things properly, there might be less tension.”

“We’ll pay, of course,” Lucia added, smiling widely.

Tanya considered the offer. While part of her balked at the idea of sharing a meal with her debtors, here was an opportunity to gather intelligence on the organization that currently held her financial leash. Any information she could glean about the Apollo Familia’s structure, motivations, and potential weaknesses could prove valuable in the future.

“Very well,” Tanya said. “I have some time to spare and I won’t say no to a free meal. Lead the way.”

~~~

The Hostess of Fertility was livelier than Tanya had grown accustomed to seeing it. The lunch crowd had begun to filter in, filling the tables with adventurers fresh from the morning’s dungeon run. The smell of roasting meat and fresh bread had saturated the tavern’s air, making her stomach growl quietly.

A waitress placed plates of steaming food in front of them–thick slices of ham accompanied by soup, bread, and roasted vegetables. It was far more substantial than the simple fare Tanya had been ordering for herself, and she suspected the Apollo Familia members were used to eating well.

As the waitress walked away, Lucia smiled brightly across the table. “The food here is fantastic. Have you ever tried it before?”

Tanya picked up her fork, examining the meal before her. “I live here.”

Lucia blinked, her smile freezing in place as her brain caught up with the words. Dorian took one look at her face and laughed loudly.

“Ha! I told you we should have taken her somewhere else. Everyone on this side of the city has visited the Hostess at least once.”

Lucia’s cheeks flushed pink. “I didn’t mean–I just assumed–” She fumbled over her words before sighing in defeat. “Sorry. I’m not very good at this.”

“Clearly,” Dorian said, still chuckling as he cut into his ham. “Though to be fair, most people your age don’t live in taverns. They live with their Familia.”

“Or with their parents,” Lucia added, recovering slightly. “Do you have family somewhere? Outside the city, maybe?”

Tanya took a sip of the soup in front of her, using the moment to formulate a response. Revealing too much about her situation was inadvisable, but appearing evasive might raise suspicion. A partial truth would serve best.

“I’m an orphan,” she said simply. “No living relatives that I’m aware of.”

Lucia’s expression softened with sympathy that Tanya found mildly irritating. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I never knew them so it’s not exactly a tragedy,” Tanya replied easily.

“Where are you from originally?” Dorian asked, tearing off a piece of bread. “Your accent is difficult to place. Somewhere across the sea, I’d wager.”

“A small island nation to the east,” Tanya said. “Far enough that I doubt you would recognize the name. The journey here was... eventful.”

“Eventful how?” Lucia leaned forward, interest clear in her gaze.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember much of it,” Tanya lied smoothly. “The details are something of a blur. I woke up in the Dungeon with no clear recollection of how I arrived.”

Dorian’s eyes sharpened at that. “You woke up in the Dungeon? As in, someone took you down there?”

“Something like that, yes.”

The two adventurers exchanged a look that Tanya couldn’t quite read. It was Dorian who turned back to her, his expression considering.

“That would explain why you were in such bad shape when we found you,” Licia said. “But it doesn’t explain how you survived long enough to reach the surface. The upper floors are manageable for experienced adventurers, but for someone with no Falna, no backup, and no prior knowledge of the Dungeon...”

He let the sentence hang, and Tanya felt the weight of his scrutiny. She was sharper than her demeanor suggested.

“I have some combat experience,” she admitted. “Enough to manage.”

“Combat experience,” Dorian repeated, his tone neutral but probing. “That’s a peculiar thing for a child to have. Most people your age are still learning to hold a sword properly, let alone surviving the Dungeon alone.”

Tanya shrugged, slicing into her ham. It was well-cooked, the juices soaking into the plate in a manner most pleasant. “Circumstances vary. I was not afforded the luxury of a normal childhood.”

“That’s...” Lucia trailed off, her expression cycling through several emotions before settling on something like sadness. “That must have been hard.”

“Hardship is relative. I’ve found that a difficult upbringing often produces more capable adults.”

Dorian chewed thoughtfully, studying her over the rim of his cup. “You carry yourself like someone who’s been through more than most adults ever will. It’s not something you see in children.”

Tanya’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. She hadn’t realized she was being so transparent. “Old habits.”

“From where?” Lucia asked. “You said you’re from an island nation, but you didn’t mention any gods. Most regions have at least one deity watching over them, even if they don’t live directly in the area. The gods tend to stay in or near Orario, but their influence spreads far beyond the city walls.”

Tanya kept her face carefully blank, setting down her fork and folding her hands on the table.

“Where I come from,” she said carefully, “those who claim godhood are considered laughingstocks at best, and blasphemers at worst. Religion is prevalent, surely, but it exists without proof. Miracles are sparse, hearsay at best. And I’m not certain that it would be a good thing were any gods to make their presence known.”

Lucia’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Consider the implications,” Tanya said. “In a society where gods walk among mortals, offering blessings and supernatural abilities, what happens to those who refuse to participate? They become second-class citizens by default, lacking the power that comes with divine favor. The very structure of such a society encourages dependence on entities whose motivations may not align with human interests.”

Dorian’s eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s a unique perspective.”

“Is it?” Tanya picked up her fork again. “I’ve observed that concentrated power, regardless of its source, rarely benefits those who don’t possess it. The gods of this city may be benevolent–I wouldn’t know, I haven’t met them–but benevolence is not the same as accountability. When a being holds absolute power over your life, your livelihood, and your very soul, what recourse do you have if their interests diverge from your own?”

Lucia opened her mouth, then closed it, clearly uncertain how to respond. Her expression had shifted from sympathetic to something more complex. Concern, perhaps, or confusion.

“You speak as if you’ve seen this happen,” Dorian said quietly.

Tanya smiled thinly. “I’ve seen what blind faith can do. I’ve seen people throw their lives away for causes they don’t understand, following leaders who claim divine mandate. The results are rarely positive for anyone except the leaders themselves.”

In her mind, the image of Mary Sue flickered briefly. That manic grin, the absolute certainty in her eyes as she detonated the explosive that killed them both. A martyr for a cause she barely comprehended, guided by a being who treated human lives as pieces on a game board.

“The nation I come from gave themselves to science, rather than faith,” Tanya continued, “the return of the divine would simply set our civilization back hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Progress requires questioning, skepticism, and the willingness to discard old beliefs in the face of new evidence. Religion, by its nature, demands the opposite.”

The table fell silent, and Tanya realized she may have said too much. These two were, by all accounts, devout followers of their god. Criticizing the very foundation of their society was not the best way to maintain cordial relations.

But when she looked at them, she didn’t see offense or anger. Lucia’s eyes had gone wide with something that looked almost like realization, while Dorian’s expression had softened into understanding.

“Let’s move onto something else,” Dorian said, his tone light but firm. He gestured vaguely with his cup. “I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to be interrogated over a meal. Tell us about your adventures. We’ve heard about you working the upper floors. How has that gone?”

Tanya inclined her head, accepting the change in subject with a small nod. She was pleased that they hadn’t taken offense to her earlier diatribe, but she couldn’t help but wonder if they had drawn the wrong conclusions from her words.

The way Lucia kept glancing at her, with those wide, sympathetic eyes, suggested that they had got the wrong thing out of her little rant.

No matter. So long as they didn’t go spouting her heresy to the town guards, they could think whatever they liked.

The meal lasted perhaps an hour in total. Dorian proved to be an amicable conversationalist, keeping the discussion away from sensitive topics and sharing anecdotes about dungeon diving that Tanya filed away for future reference. Lucia was quieter, content to let Dorian lead, but she interjected occasionally with observations that revealed a sharp mind behind her soft demeanor.

Tanya didn’t learn as much as she’d have liked about the Apollo Familia, but the conversation was... Enjoyable. Strangely so considering their shared circumstance.

When the meal concluded, Dorian offered to buy dessert, but Tanya declined. The food sat heavy in her stomach and she could feel her eyes growing heavy with fatigue. A good night’s sleep would serve her better than sweets.

“I should retire for the evening,” she said, rising from her seat. “Thank you for the meal. It was... pleasant.”

Lucia smiled at that, the expression genuine and warm. “We should do this again sometime. If you’re not too busy.”

“I make no promises,” Tanya replied. “But I won’t rule it out entirely.”

Dorian tossed a pouch of coins to the waitress as they departed, offering Tanya a casual wave before disappearing into the crowd with Lucia in tow. Tanya watched them go for a moment before ascending the stairs to her room.

In the comfort of her rented room, Tanya unwrapped her new saber and set it on the small desk beside her bed. The lamplight caught the edge of the blade, casting a thin line of reflected gold across the ceiling.

The two of them were quite good company, she reflected. It reminded her of meals with her men back in the Empire. Dorian possessed a dry humor that reminded her of Weiss, alongside a straightforward sense of competence that didn’t need to announce itself. Lucia, meanwhile, had the same soft countenance and clear empathetic demeanor that Visha had once worn.

It was a shame, really. Both of them had clearly been institutionalized by the society they were born into.

Tanya ran her thumb along the saber’s edge. Sharp, but in need of honing. She would need to purchase a whetstone at some point to maintain it.

For now, though, she had planning to do.

~~~

The walk back to the Apollo Familia estate was a quiet one.

Lucia and Dorian made their way through the streets of Orario as the afternoon sun settled over the city. The crowds had thinned somewhat as the lunch rush came to its conclusion, leaving the roads wide open for their stroll. Neither spoke for a long while, each lost in their own thoughts.

It was Lucia who finally broke the silence.

“That poor girl.”

Dorian glanced sideways at his companion, noting the furrow in her brow and the way she worried at her lower lip. It was a habit she’d never managed to break, one that surfaced whenever something weighed on her conscience.

“She’s been through something,” he agreed. “That much is clear.”

“Something? Dorian, she talks about gods like they’re...” Lucia struggled for the right words. “Like they’re tyrants. Something to be feared instead of revered.”

“She’s not entirely wrong.”

Lucia shot him a surprised look, and Dorian raised a hand before she could object.

“I’m not saying her views are correct,” he clarified. “But she’s right about one thing; power tends to concentrate, and those without it tend to suffer for it. We’ve both seen it happen within our own Familia.”

Lucia fell silent at that. They both knew exactly what he was referring to. Lord Apollo’s interest in beautiful things had a tendency to cause problems for those who couldn’t or wouldn’t reciprocate his attention.

“Do you think she was abused?” Lucia asked quietly. “By a god, I mean. Or a Familia?”

Dorian considered the question carefully. Tanya’s words had been clinical, but beneath them lay a current of something deeper. Not anger, exactly. More like a wound long since scarred.

“It’s possible,” Dorian admitted. “The way she spoke about blind faith isn’t exactly the words of someone who’s simply skeptical. You don’t speak about faith that way unless you’ve seen it fail someone. Unless you’ve seen it hurt someone.”

Lucia nodded slowly, her expression troubled. They walked in silence for another block, the stone streets giving way to the paved roads that led toward the wealthier districts of Orario.

“If she joins us,” Lucia said finally, “I want to make sure she feels welcome. Truly welcome. Not just because Lord Apollo wants her, but because she deserves a place where she can belong.”

Dorian smiled at that, a small but genuine expression. “That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Lucia protested. “She’s all alone, Dorian. She has no Familia, no family, and she’s living in a tavern because she has nowhere else to go. If we can be the ones to show her that not all gods are the same...”

She trailed off, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Dorian reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

“We will,” he promised. “We can still show her that the Apollo Familia is different. That we care about her as a person, not just as another member to add to our numbers.”

Lucia sniffled and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Do you think she’ll be happy if she joins? After everything she said?”

“Perhaps not,” Dorian said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t show her regardless.”