“Let’s do this before I forget,” Coach Beardenbeard said and motioned for everyone to follow him out of the chamber.

“Indeed,” Lord Monrovedere said, standing from the table. “Let us get it over with. I want to see how well you interact with the other members of the Dragons,” Monrovedere said.

Beardenbeard coughed. “Er, rather like the only other member of the Dragons. We’re still recruiting.”

“You are?” Berik asked.

“If young Berik here is a good fit for the party, then we need only find a [Mage] and a [Rogue],” Lord Monrovedere said. “And that seems easy enough.”

“Oh, it should be! Then it’s merely a matter of filling out all the paperwork and submitting the expansion bid,” Coach Beardenbeard said.

“Ex…expansion bid?” Lord Monrovedere asked.

“Oh, yeah. Remember when the DL announced it was expanding the number of parties in the league last year?” Coach Beardenbeard asked. “You had to bid to present your party to the commission.”

Monrovedere frowned. “Yes. That’s how I got the idea of starting my own party in the first place. A most exorbitant fee, but one that I am willing to pay.”

“Then you should know that you probably aren’t the only one who’s trying to get their party added to the league,” Coach Beardenbeard said.

“I can afford the bid,” Monrovedere said. Though he still held his head high, the enthusiasm had drained in his voice.

“Oh, no doubt, no doubt,” Coach Beardenbeard said.

They walked through lavish hallways, lined with candelabras and plush red rugs in sullen silence. They came upon a set of double doors inlaid with gold and Coach Beardenbeard pressed his hands against them. But then he stopped and looked over his shoulder.

“You also need your own stadium,” he said.

“My gods, man! I know! I’m working on it!” Monrovedere shouted.

Beardenbeard shrugged and pushed the doors open. The room was huge, grand, and completely empty. Furniture had been pushed up to one side, stacked high with various bits of armor and weapons. One table sat in the middle of the chamber and the strangest person Berik had ever seen sat behind it.

With blue skin and long pointy ears, he was undoubtedly a sea elf. Berik had heard about them but had never seen one. The elf ran his webbed hands over his bald, speckled head and down his long green mustache. It grew only on the sides of his mouth, like it was too lazy to grow all the way over his lip. He wore only a simple robe and sandals, much like a pilgrim or a beggar might.

“I’m Nirlid,” he said in a coarse voice. He looked over at Coach Beardenbeard. “Is practice over yet?”

The dwarf laughed. “This is a tryout! And we’re here to see how this young man fits in.”

Nirlid crossed his arms and frowned.

“Go on, kid. Go say hi,” Beardenbeard whispered and ushered him forward.

“Hi. Uh, I’m Berik. Berik Bauer,” the young man said. He stood as confidently as he did when he was working at a city event. It was said that a solid enough stance could warn off even the meanest troublemaker. It hadn’t, in his experience, but he still wanted to look competent. And strong. “Are we really having a tryout in a ballroom?” he asked with a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah. We are. Is there a problem?” the sea elf asked.

Berik gulped. “Nope! We’re all good!”

Lord Monrovedere coughed, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “My lawyers advised me to tell you that you need to sign a pain waiver before you do anything official. It is merely a formality.”

“A pain waiver?” Berik asked. “What’s that?”

“It’s your standard “if you get maimed or killed while in a dungeon, you can’t sue the League” waiver,” Monrovedere said. “It's fairly standard issue in organizations like this.”

Coach Beardenbeard saw how pale Berik had gone. “But there hasn’t been a fatality since the early reign of King Ozrith the Seventh, so I wouldn’t worry about it. Dungeoneers don’t just make the dungeons, they’re there to pull you out in hairy situations.”

“How?” Berik asked, still not over the shock. He signed his name on the form shoved at him without even looking at it.

“Magic,” Beardenbeard said like that was all there was to it.

Berik fought back the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him and set his jaw. “I’m not scared. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to be this party’s [Fighter].”

“Good to hear, good to hear.” Beardenbeard stood behind Nirlid and whispered something to him.

The sea elf let out a sigh like the weight of the world was resting solely on his shoulders. “Do you have any combat experience?”

“Yes sir! I was in the city Watch for years. While I wasn’t in any wars, I helped protect the city day and night. Chasing down pickpockets, breaking up fights.” He couldn’t help but puff out his chest as he got lost in old memories. “Trust me, I’ve seen my fair share of action.”

Nirlid stood. “Okay.”

And faster than Berik could see, Nirlid leaped at him in a flying kick. Berik managed to dodge just in time. Even though the sea elf was half his weight, he brought a tremendous force to the blow. Berik felt the air split as Nirlid landed and sent his leg down in a powerful arc to crash into the floor. But there was no time to recover. The sea elf’s attack had turned from a devastating axe kick to a sweeping strike aiming right for his legs.

Berik jumped backwards, toward a short sword lying on one of the many tables shoved in the back of the ballroom. He grabbed it and unsheathed the blade in one swift motion. He leaped at the Nirlid and swung his sword in a devastating arc, trying to keep the [Healer] at a distance.

He wasn’t trying to kill Nirlid. Not exactly. He knew this was just some kind of a test. That’s what it was, right? A test of his battle abilities? Still, he expected to land one blow with the practice blade, but Nirlid had already rolled out of the way. The sea elf was quick as a rabbit!

Berik pressed the offensive, wasting no time. He wasn’t going to let Nirlid bring the fight back into his favor. From his experience as a town guard, he knew if the fight went to the ground, he had to keep it there. But no matter how hard or how quickly he attacked, Berik couldn’t get a blow to connect. Nirlid somehow dodged or parried each strike with his lightning-fast fists and legs.

“Are you done yet?” Nirlid asked, not even out of breath.

“No way!” Berik saw an opening in the sea elf’s otherwise flawless defense. He plunged the sword down, but suddenly heard someone shout some strange words behind him. A sudden mysterious force seized his weapon and kept it in its place midair.

“What the..?” Berik tried to move his sword, but it was frozen in midair. Try as he might, he could not get it to budge. He turned around to see a man even shorter than Beardenbeard. His head was nearly bald except for a few wispy strands of white hair. His large ears and bulbous nose were only outmatched by his enormous, owlish eyes that blinked behind a pair of thick glasses.

A halfling? Berik thought. Where did he come from? But the tiny humanoid had somehow managed to levitate the sword and make it hover an inch away from Berik’s face. It moved with every tiny motion he made. If he tried to run away or charge at Nirlid, Berik knew the blade would strike him without any hesitation.

“Stand down,” the halfling said in a quaking voice.

Berik grimaced and held up his hands. Nirlid remained ready in a fighting stance, but he gave Berik a bemused smirk. Coach Beardenbeard beamed a cheerful smile and Lord Monrovedere looked fit to burst with delight.

“I yield,” Berik said.

The halfling gave a flick of his wrist. The motion sent his borrowed sword clattering to the floor. With the deadly weapon no longer in play, Berik felt himself relaxing. “Are you the [Mage]? I thought we needed to find one still,” Berik asked.

The elderly halfling staggered to a chair and sat down with a creaky thump. Coach Beardenbeard patted him on his shoulder.

“No, this is Brioche Goodbake, our party’s dungeoneer,” Lord Monrovedere explained. “We are very happy he agreed to join the party.”

“And I’m very happy to get paid for actual work,” Brioche said. “Retirement does not suit me.”

“You were talking about dungeoneers earlier, but I still don’t understand what they do,” Berik said, taking a seat.

Monrovedere gasped like he was about to talk about his favorite subject in the world. “Dungeoneers are the brilliant wizards who create the dungeons each party enters at the start of every adventure. They are the ones responsible for summoning appropriately-leveled monsters and traps that fill these dungeons. They are the ones who enable the audience outside to view the action going on from inside the dungeon.

Brioche took over the explanation, small chest puffing with pride. “And we’re the ones who ensure that, if an adventurer gets into a deadly situation, that they are immediately teleported to safety.”

Berik’s eyebrows rose in surprise. This little grandpa did all that?

“But enough about that. Let us focus on you,” Monrovedere said. He turned to Coach Beardenbeard. “If you would be so kind…”

Coach Beardenbeard clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We’re gonna need to run a test,” he said.

“A test?” Panic shot through Berik’s heart. “Was I supposed to study? Look, if you give me some time, I’ll be just fine, but right now…”

Beardenbeard gave him an encouraging smile. “It’s not that kind of test. But it seems like I got a bit ahead of myself. I must have been excited to see how you fight. Anyway, I need to ask a couple of questions now that we got your physical out of the way.” He sat in a chair behind the table.

“Sure!” Berik said.

“Right. So, first things first. How old are you?” Coach Beardenbeard asked.

“Twenty-three,” Berik said.

“Twenty-three. That’s fully grown? For a human?” the blonde dwarf asked.

“Yes, sir.” Berik beamed, like he had done something more than just survive a certain number of years.

“That’s good. Right, so in the event of your untimely demise, what would all your worldly possessions go to? Your kids?” Beardenbeard asked.

Berik’s eyes went wide. “Um. No, sir. I don’t have any children. I’m not married either. I guess all my stuff would go to my mother.”

Beardenbeard nodded. “So all your property would go to your mother. Good kid! I knew I liked you. Do you have any ailments that might keep you from adventuring? Any old injuries? A bad back? Wonky knee?”

Berik shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Any phobias?” Beardenbeard continued.

“No, sir.”

The coach ran a hand along his mustache. “Excellent. And do you have any past convictions in the past ten years?”

“No, sir,” Berik said.

Coach Beardenbeard shrugged, never losing his trademark smile. “Truth be told, these aren’t my questions, by the way. They’re official League rules. But, that’s all the questions I have. How about you, Dougie?” He looked over at Lord Monrovedere. If he was offended by the coach’s familiarity, he didn’t show it.

“Nothing from me,” Monrovedere said.

Nirlid shrugged. “You’re fine.”

Berik couldn’t help but smile. “So, am I in?”

“We gotta go over some things first. Summon your character sheet. You’ll be able to do that even if you’re not in a dungeon,” Coach Beardenbeard said.

Berik focused and brought up his character sheet. Even though it was in front of his eyes, he still squinted at everything written on it. “Okay, it’s here. Now what?”

Beardenbeard sat back down. “Well, I gotta explain some stuff. These are your basic stats. Some of them are pretty self-explanatory. Might is just what it sounds like. It’s your strength. Your physical force. Agility is how graceful and acrobatic you are. Also, it factors into ranged weapons like bows and such. And your Vitality is how healthy you are. How much damage you can take before you finally drop. And how easily you’re poisoned.”

“Oh. Is an 8 in Intellect bad?” Berik didn’t feel like he had a 10 in Vitality but he definitely felt the low Intellect score. His head still pounded from the wild night before. But he hadn’t gotten sick, so there was that.

“Nah, I wouldn’t say so. Not if you’re going to be our [Fighter],” Coach Beadenbeard said.

“Okay. So what do the rest of the stats mean?” Berik asked, wanting to appear as keen as possible.

“Well, you’ve got your Intellect, like I explained,” Coach Beardenbead said. “It’s your ability to learn spells if you’re a class that can do that. It helps you use those spells, retain new information, and such. Logic. Investigation. Stuff like that. Next is Essence. That one is trickier to define. It’s a sum total of your spirit, your emotional resilience. Some might call it your faith, if you’re the type to be a follower of a religion.”

“Essence is my highest stat,” Nirlid added.

“And lastly, you got Presence. That one’s even harder to define than Essence. It’s like…how strong your personality is. How convincing you can be. How easily you get along with others. But also how scary you can be when you ain’t tryin to play nice. Leaders tend to have a really high Presence.” He tugged on his mustache and grinned. “And Presence is your second-highest score. You might just be a party leader soon enough.”

“So it’s official? I’m in?” Berik asked.

Everyone gathered around him smiled and nodded at him. “Yes, son, you are. Welcome to the Dawnport Dragons,” Coach Beardenbeard said. “Tomorrow, I’ll go over some basics of adventuring in the Dungeon League. Be sure to pay attention! All that information can save your life!”

“Wait, will I be going into a dungeon again?” Berik asked. Terror burned away the last of his hangover.

Beardenbeard laughed. “Nope! You’re not ready. We’re not ready either. But you’ll be helping us assemble our party! Your party is your greatest asset. So keep those eyes peeled! You got a week to get everyone before the deadline!”

Berik gulped. He just joined and now he had a deadline? And only a week to do it? Sweat broke out on his forehead. What had he gotten himself into? But before he could cry, or vomit, or any number of things, Lord Monrovedere handed him a check.

A hundred thousand gold pieces. Berik was speechless.

“That’s your sign-on bonus,” the nobleman said. “Don’t go spending it all in one place.”