“Yes. Not bad for a [Paladin], especially.”

“Why’s that?”

She gave him a teasing smile. He flushed, his incorporeal cheeks darkening.

“Ah—well—you wouldn’t know this, but—some classes level slower than others. The more impressive the class, the harder it is to level up. So Level 43…”

“Is that better than a [Knight of the Crusade] at the same level? She’s ‘only’ a [Paladin].”

Dalius pointedly avoided the issue.

“They would only write her general class if it was unknown. As I told you, it is a mark of significant ability to reach Level 40. Level 50 is considered a true marker of power, and most nations can only boast of a handful of warriors at that level; only one or two at Level 60 or higher. Beyond that? You would be known worldwide if you were Level 70 or higher.”

He heaved a deep sigh.

“I never reached Level 50. But then—few do.”

“Really. So not many people reach Level 100?”

He laughed incredulously.

“Across all their classes? I knew a few who passed one hundred in combined levels. But never in one class. That is the very stuff of legends. Famous [Dragonslayers] were only Level 80 in ages of yore. This Arteis was not there, but she was a great warrior for her time. Believe me. I would that I had known her.”

Cara nodded slowly, taking it all in.

“I do too. Hers was the first grave I found like that…I was…”

She hesitated.

“Lost. Despairing. Her epitaph saved me, if that makes sense.”

Ser Dalius looked at her and smiled sadly. He nodded, half-bowing back the way they’d come.

“That is what [Paladins] do. Even in death.”

Cara almost smiled at him. Almost. She looked at Dalius, thought of Arteis. Noble people. She wanted to believe they were genuine. If so—

“Your world is better than mine.”

Dalius watched her, puzzled.

“Why so? For levels? For magic?”

Cara’s smile was twisted. The ghost saw the young woman glance up at him, and then away.

“No. It has heroes. Real ones.”

——

For a while, talking with Dalius helped. The fire, the food—it sustained her for more hours of walking.

Hours and hours.

Unending coffins. Dark stone. Even if it was a vast place—claustrophobia began to set in after eight hours. A subtle panic after ten.

The madness set in on the…third ‘day’ underground. Cara felt like the walls were closing in on her.

She woke up on the ground, staring at the fire and feeling as though she was being watched. Not by the ghost, either.

“Are you alright, Miss Cara?”

Ser Dalius had prepared breakfast. This time, Cara ate and felt the cooked flesh in her mouth. The allure of hot mouse wore off fast.

And she felt a prickling at her skin, a desperation after three days of nothing but the tomb.