Chapter 81: Chapter 81: Flower picking has never been this dangerous!

Asmodeos, or Soed, as everyone knew him, called over platoon 23.

"I have a quest that requested Valerie by name," the necromancer pulled out a scroll and handed it to Dorian. "The guild can't afford to miss out on such a client."

"Proudblade Mausoleum?" Dorian had never heard of it.

"It is a secret place. Deep in the savanna, and with the best Blue Bell groves in the world," Asmodeos informed him. The name of the flower was something Dorian had heard before. The most expensive potions, the invisibility ones, were made using it.

"Can we help ourselves to a couple of flowers?" Lilia asked. She was itching to try her hand on some potion brewing. But, so far, the ingredients for the invisibility potion had been too expensive for her.

"The client said you have to come back with a single basket full of the stuff. So, I don't think he can sue us over us picking the flowers when he doesn't even own the Mausoleum. In fact, it is not claimed by anyone. But, the lions that call it home," Alklair looked at Soed. Unlike Baleg, he was toeing the line of breaking the rules. The former guild master disliked that.

"Soed, what are you thinking? Telling them they could steal from a national treasure like that?" Alklair chided, Soed smiled a smile full of teeth at him. Looking unrepentant.

"What is the difference between a treasure in a random dungeon and these flowers? If you are all smart, you will pick a basket each, leave the roots where they are, and sell the flowers to patch in those holes in your budgets. It would be nice, Alklair, if you do the grocery shopping, for once," Asmodeos watched as Alklair blushed and coughed.

"I'll consider it," the elf spoke, and he straightened up. Asmodeos might have been a bit mean, what with reminding everyone that he was practically taking care of Alklair's monetary needs, but Alklair had to get his head out of his ass and see the world for what it was.

"We will take the quest," Dorian gave back the scroll, and received a license. He had not asked Valerie if she wanted to part with her fiancé so close to the wedding, but he knew she understood.

Dorian was the platoon leader. When it came to the guild as a whole, it was Leander who called the shots, Alklair before him. But, in Dorian's platoon, his word was law. And they all knew it.

They went and got some seats on wagons in a caravan that was going their way. The trip was spent catching up on some sleep, with all ten doing the walking in place exercise for half an hour once the caravan stopped.

Leander had been embarrassed when Alklair and Valerie had joined the original members of platoon 23 the first time. However, they had joked that they would be insulted if they were not allowed to exercise with the rest.

The younger adventurers had gotten more comfortable around the two SS ranked ones. Now, that there was no title of guild master and second-in-command to make a wedge between the teenagers and the adults, things were lighter.

To Leander's relief, no one treated him differently despite him taking Alklair's position. They joked with him, with his partners, that is to say the Try Hard Party, asking him on dates and stealing kisses from him and each other every chance they got.

Leander still felt he was unworthy. Of his lovers, of the position as guild master. He felt like an imposter. Still, he did not let his fears rule over him. He smiled and joked back, kissed back, talked when spoken to and was not hesitant to voice his opinion, when the setting allowed it.

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The trip was bliss, and the caravan agreed to wait for them in the neighboring town, so they could take them back. But, the Proudblade Mausoleum now loomed before them. Without a roof, but swarming with lions that looked starved.

"A dungeon, most likely," Valerie suggested and Dorian nodded.

"There is no other reason behind this many animals staying at a place without water or food," and it was the truth. There was no river passing by. No herds of antelopes or zebras. There were just a couple of suricats, but, surely, they would provide too meager a meal.

"The swarm is at the front, as it should be. If we are lucky, these lions will be the strongest mob available in the ruins," Jean murmured and readied his bow.

"Alklair, Armaros, Jean, Leander, take the swarm out. Valerie, keep to the back, in case we need a quick heal. Leander, focus on the swarm. We need an extra archer now. Valerie can do your job," they all nodded, and the three archers raised their bows, while Alklair created the light golems with just enough mana for them to be sturdy.

The lions were caught by surprised and tried to hide, but failed. Corpses with visible ribs littered the mausoleum's floor. The platoon moved deeper inside the ruins, and they saw a man in a fetal position. 

"Valerie, check up on him," Valerie rushed to do as Dorian had commanded her. The man looked at her, but had no pulse.

"A vampire?" She backed away. The raven haired man had dazzling golden eyes, and they shone with hunger.

"I need a sip, just a sip," he stood on shaky legs and moved to Dorian, who was the closest one to him. "I haven't drunk in months."

"Are you the mini-boss of the first floor?" Leander asked. Always leave your enemy a way out, Asmodeos had said. And Leander was not going to see for himself, like how Alklair had seen, the result of not following these words of wisdom.

"Yes. The dungeon core forced a contract on me. On the lions, too. But it doesn't try to keep us alive. It feeds on our mana. Like a parasite," the raven-haired vampire changed direction towards Leander, who stood his ground.

"I will let you drink from me," Leander offered, palms sweaty. "But you will tell us all you know about the dungeon core, in exchange. And, you won't attack us."

"With pleasure," the vampire rested a hand on Leander's shoulder and bent down. "Thank you."

Leander felt a slight pain, like his neck had just been pierced by a needle, then he felt a pleasant numbness. Honestly, why had Valerie been so afraid? He couldn't see the harm in sharing his blood.

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