"Ok, so according to the assignment, this should be the entrance to the-," I squinted at the absolutely garbage handwriting on the scroll. "The Tower of Ash and Blood? Melodramatic much?"

  I rolled the scroll up without even trying to hide my disgust at the sight before me. It was less a tower and more a pile of old moss-choked stones with something vaguely resembling a doorway set in the middle of a stinking swamp on the outskirts of town. The only sounds were the croaking of frogs and the ever-present buzz of mosquitoes.

  "I like it. It's nice and brooding and dark. Dungeons should be dark, ya know?" My companion said, before taking a puff out of what she called a cigarette, but frankly smelled like someone set fire to a potpourri shop. She held back a cough as I waved the smoke away from my face.

  "Of course you'd like it, Mithramanda. A place like this suits you." I snapped at her.

  "Hey, don't be harshing the vibe, Alta! Don't get your salty, rich girl panties in a twist and just enjoy the quest, ya know?" She punctuated this with another puff of smoke in my direction.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, closed my eyes tight, and sighed the kind of deep sigh that I hoped wordlessly expressed the mix of emotions I was feeling right now.

  I didn't want to be here. I never wanted to be outside a dungeon in a swamp with a Wood Elf who seemed blitzed out on something more often than not. I was supposed to be steeped in a world of academia, studying in infinitely large libraries, learning the deep secrets of the universe with professors who could warp reality itself, maybe having a sordid romance that went absolutely nowhere but would inspire the songs of weepy bards for generations.

  But sadly, my reality was unwarped and romance-less. And said unwarped reality sucked and her I was, Alta Alba Marchesi, 5th Daughter of House Marchesi, Lords of the Border Country, Members of the Council of Elven Lords of the Country of Burgotova, eligible bachelorette, crimson haired beauty, and master-ish swordwitch. Cast out by her family for crimes I admittedly did commit, but insist were funny so I should have gotten away with, penniless, and forced to sign up for Adventuring School instead of a proper Magic College like my brothers and sisters.

  No point in complaining anymore about it, I suppose. "C'mon Mithramanda, lets get this stupid training quest done so I can be depressed somewhere warmer."

  "Ok but could you call me Myth? Its like, the name of my soul, ya know?" Another puff invaded my air.

  "Gods dammit fine! But put that damn cig out! The monsters are gonna be on us in nothing flat if they smell that putrid cloud of whatever the hells it is you're smoking!" I growled at her. It was bad enough that I had to be roommates with her, but she was also in my dungeoneering class and got assigned as my partner for this assignment.

  She was strange and annoying to me. Tall with dark, unkempt hair, she was also pale like sunlight was only something she had read about. She always seemed to be half awake or stoned out of her mind. Despite all that, I had to grudgingly admit she wasn't too bad as a healer, which is largely why she was assigned to me. Her job was to patch me up if things got ugly, which in dungeons was more likely than not.

  This was our first time going into a real dungeon. All of our practice in the training labyrinth under the school led up to this moment. This gross, wet, swampy moment. I drew my sword in one hand, activated a Light Ball spell in my other hand. I took a steadying breath, which my lungs immediately protested.

  "Alright, let's do this!" I said with more confidence than I feel,t and we both entered the dark portal into the depths below the swamp.

  -

  The mission we were given was very simple. We had to trim the Dungeon Core. At the center of the dungeon, every dungeon for that matter, was a core. The core was what created monsters, generated treasures, various items, and more. It was also what created the structure of the dungeons. When a dungeon core grew for whatever reason, the dungeon would as well. This was usually a problem, as its growth could cause all kinds of issues either in the local ecology, or it could start affecting crops, or all kinds of nasty effects. This is usually because the mana around a dungeon is strange.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  My teachers at Dungeon School would balk at my use of the term strange, but it was true. It didn't mesh with mana theory, no matter how hard they tried to figure it out. The mana was strange, and dungeons grew; it was just a fact of life. Dungeoneers were a critical part of managing this.

  A dungeoneer's job was to enter a dungeon, find the core, and prune it. This usually involved physically damaging the core enough that it reset to its original state. As far as anyone knew, you couldn't permanently destroy a dungeon. You could blow up the core, burn it, even steal it out of the dungeon, and no matter what, the worst that would happen is that it would go back to the way it was.

  And that's what Myth and I were here for. We were both part of the Dungeoneer program at the Burgotovan Adventuring Academy, or Dungeon School as it was more commonly known.

  We were learning how to trim dungeons back to the original size, to keep them controlled so that adventurer's could use them to get stronger, find treasures for use by the kingdom, and use the skills they faced fighting the monsters in dungeons to defend against the monsters in countryside, which were far more dangerous.

  I had chosen the Dungeoneers path for a few reasons, the biggest being I wasn't keen on the idea of all the traveling common adventurers did, and second, because dungeoneering sometimes led to some lucrative work for cities with their own dungeons. Like a gardener for a flower bed made of horrors.

  I had thought it would be nice and straightforward, but then I discovered that it wasn't just something you could march down to a guildhall for, pay a silver for an adventuring license, and call it a day.

  No! You needed certifications, qualifications, and a degree of all things! Without even thinking about it, I agreed. What little money I had left went to tuition, and now I'm stuck with a four-year program I can't get out of, living in a dorm with three other girls, and working part-time jobs just to afford what little equipment I did have.

  And the studying, dear gods the studying. The text tomes were massive! And none of them were ensorcelled like ones in the magic schools! I was developing muscles from carrying the damn things! I wept for my slim, noblewoman's physique!

  *click*

  The sound echoed in the dark hallway, sound bouncing off the walls much like my light did off the water-slick stone of the passageway.

  I cursed. I had been so distracted in my mental pity party I forgot the first part of Dungeoneering 101. Always check for traps.

  "Um, Alta, I think you, like, triggered a trap." Myth monotoned at me.

  "Thank you, Myth. I would have never noticed." I drawled sarcastically at her.

  "Yeah, I figured. That's why I told you. You're welcome." She gave me something resembling a grin and a thumbs-up.

  Gods, I could throttle her.

  No time for that, though. Time to analyze the situation.

  "Give me some more light, will you?" I asked gruffly. Myth nodded and spoke an incantation I could never make the language out of, and a series of small light orbs floated above us.

  It helped me see what we were looking. A floor switch, but judging by the fact that it hadn't immediately set anything off, it was a delayed reaction trigger. I scanned the hallway for anything that could be a source of an attack, an arrow hole, a gas dispensing nozzle, even a little bell or something.

  I looked, racked my brain for possible mechanisms it could belong to, but I couldn't think of anything it could be. I cursed at myself for not paying attention as we explored, and cursed myself again for not paying more attention in the traps lectures.

  "Myth, do you have any thoughts on this?" I asked, trying to keep panic out of my voice.

  "Sorry, nah. I slept through traps. I kinda hoped you'd paid attention." She scratched the back of her head, completely lacking any expression of contrition.

  Why. Why had I been cursed so.

  "Ok then. Get back a bit, and get ready to heal me, because I think the only way to get past this one is to trigger it." I waited till she did as I said, and steeling myself, I took my foot off the trigger. It went click again.

  And then nothing. No fireballs, no gases, no pits, arrows, secret closets full of monsters. Nothing.

  I pressed it with my foot again. Click. Nothing. Click nothing click nothing.

  A dead trigger? I bent down to take a look at it.

  "Those bastards! it's just a button that goes click! Who the hell makes a button that just goes click in a dungeon? What is wrong with the bloody core to make it think that was a good idea!" I couldn't help but raise my voice.

  It was then I heard sounds at the end of the tunnel. Clanking of armor and weapons, and the guttural grunts that approximated language. I facepalmed hard enough that I was sure I left a mark.

  The other rule of dungeoneering: control your volume. Monsters are attracted to noise. Not ten minutes into this quest and I flubbed all the basics.

  Not that my partner was helping anything. She just stood there, stock still. No, she was trembling. Was she afraid?

  "Myth? Are you-" It was then I realized she was muttering under her breath. I didn't understand the words, but I recognized the tone. She was going to launch a fireball. Which was a death sentence in corridors like this.

  A scared mage about to go off behind me, and monsters advancing in front of me. This was going to get dicey in a hurry.