Chapter 6: Going back or quitting.

 "Ok, here is the plan. We go during the night, and we bag all the leftover treasure," Morris pointed at a map of the sewer. To the area where the small, pearl-sized dungeon core had been.

"Are you sure they will let us?" Leander had his doubts. Sure, the dungeon had been whimsical, but it had still been a dungeon and those were heavily regulated.

"Sure as rain! Leander, no one but you went inside it. I checked with the register in the guildhall. The Adventurer's Guild has placed a mission on the place, and I signed us up for it," Morris looked ecstatic at the prospect and Leander raised an eyebrow.

"When? We weren't even a party a moment ago," it had been an awkward process, becoming a party. They had both been unsure of themselves for different reasons.

Leander thought he was not good enough, and he would hold Morris back. Morris thought he would end up getting Leander either crippled, like his former party member, or killed.

But they had filled out the forms that Morris brought with him, in silence, and, after that, did their ritual before the poster. The tension leaving their bodies with each step.

"I was hopeful. Besides, you don't look like the type to leave people hanging. You have this dependable aura around you," the wink Morris gave to Leander made him feel as his face grew hot. He just hoped that Morris would not notice.

Normally, people would tell him he was a lazy bookworm, not a dependable adventurer. He had no idea what he had done to impress Morris, but he didn't want to disappoint him.

"If we have permission, why don't we go down now?"

Morris rubbed the back of his head.

"Well, we're not too savvy with one another. We don't have formations. And you have a stick for a weapon," Morris tapped the wannabe staff with a finger, as Leander placed a hand on his trusty staff. The biggest achievement of which was throwing a bunch of defenseless hamsters in the dung filled waters of the sewers. Ok, Morris might have a point.

"What weapon do you suggest?" Leander could afford something better, seeing as he had been given 50 gold coins for the dungeon core alone. Although, he had originally planned to put those forward to paying the bills in the next month.

"A staff with a soul fragment. Now, before you say it is too fancy, hear me out," Leander nodded. Morris was B rank. He must have some sort of background before his first party. "Most people buy their weapon with a couple of months in mind. But do you know what? Their adventuring career doesn't even last as long as the cheap junk they buy."

Leander considered those words. True, countless people either died, got crippled, or quit. But he had never thought that it was because of the weapon.

"Go on," Leander urged, and Morris grinned.

"So, you think big! Sure, a staff like that is going to set you back by a hundred gold coins, but, once we get out of the sewers with all kinds of gems, everything will sort itself out," Morris explained; Leander worried his bottom lip.

A hundred gold coins meant that he had to delve into his rent funds. To get the money, he would need to shorten it to two days of a roof over his head.

But, the nightmare of the night before swam at the front of his mind. He imagined himself saying no, buying junk, and then ending as a beached land whale.

No, he was above such a fate.

"Deal. What about you? What grade is your axe?"

Morris patted his axe lovingly.

"No worries. It is grade seven," it was said so calmly, and yet Leander's eyes widened.

Grade seven?

"Grade seven? That is almost an epic subcategory," the blonde could not keep the amazement out of his voice. He received a smile, as Morris unsheathed his axe and showed it to Leander.

"My uncle made it. I had to slave away in his forge all my life for it. And work extra jobs around town, but it was worth it," and probably not paid in full yet, Leander figured. Morris needed a big break from the sewer dungeon as much as Leander.

If not more.

"Ok, we go to the guildhall and see if they have a fancy staff," Leander moved in the direction of the Adventurer's Guild when Morris coughed.

"Leander, where is your uniform?"

 Leander blushed. He was in shorts and a T-shirt again. No one had raised any fuss about it, all the times he had gone to the guildhall. It was an open secret, and a grand joke, that a healer couldn't get in even the biggest uniforms in stock.

"They didn't have anything in my size," Leander had an argument ready, to defend himself. But he only saw Morris shake his head.

"Come on, we are going shopping. I am sure we can find you something that is closer to the uniform in looks than what you are wearing now," and then Morris led him to the pit of horror that Leander did his best to avoid.

 The shopping district.

They moved from shop to shop, stall to stall. But no one had anything that could look ok on Leander. They had tried to sell him a couple of black pants and blue shirts combinations, usually used by civil servants, but Morris was adamant that Leander needed beige pants and a green blouse.

Finally, they went to a tailor. The man took Leander's measurements without a word and then began to use magic to fix up the clothes before the eyes of the two teens. He even stitched the Adventurer's Guild insignia on the breast pocket of the blouse.

Leander changed into his new clothes, paid the gold coin the tailor asked for, and went out of the atelier with Morris by his side.

"Next time we go shopping, we will manage to find you something in the regular shops. I believe in you," Morris patted Leander on the shoulder and took the lead.

Leander stood rooted to the spot for a while, blinking so quickly that people were beginning to stare at him. Finally, he made a hesitant step forward, and then another.

He took the rest of the distance in a light jog and walked side by side with Morris. Head held high and an honest smile on his face.

A silent vow in his heart that he was not going to let down Morris, made with all the conviction he could master.