Chapter 80: Golden Pelt Grotto Dungeon

The morning sun filtered through the large window of Alaric’s room at the Khysarel residence, its soft rays painting the space in hues of gold and amber. Alaric sat in a well-crafted wooden chair by the desk, the delicate parchment of Rosalind’s letter held between his fingers. His eyes traced the elegant script with a thoughtful intensity.

The letter contained both good news and an intriguing proposition. Orion, the alchemist renowned across the lands, was willing to assist in crafting the Mystic Rejuvenation Elixir.

However, his packed schedule meant that he wouldn’t be available for several months.

Alaric sighed, leaning back against the chair. “Months, huh?” he murmured, fingers brushing through his dark hair. “Patience it is, then.”

He folded the letter carefully, tucking it into his pocket. Sharing the news with Iridelle could wait. There was no point in stirring up anticipation when the wait was so prolonged.

His attention shifted to the second part of the letter. Rosalind had invited him to join the Silver Raven Guild’s upcoming dungeon raid at the Golden Pelt Grotto. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he read the specifics.

Monsters, treasures, and challenges—all elements of the labyrinths he had read about in tomes.

But what truly amused him was Rosalind’s introduction of him to the guild members as her younger brother. He shook his head, a wry smile curving his lips.

“Well, well, Rosalind,” he muttered to himself. “When I see you next, I’ll be sure to remind you just how much of a little brother I can be.” The thought of her flushed face and sweetly pouted lips made him chuckle, and he decided then and there that he’d “punish” her for this little stunt.

For now, though, the dungeon raid called for immediate attention. Preparation was key, and Alaric never stepped into a challenge without meticulous planning. The letter had mentioned monsters native to the Grotto—Twilight Wolves, Ember Foxes, Frost Bears, Verdant Serpents, and Shimmering Scorpions. Each had unique strengths and weaknesses that needed countering.

Later that afternoon, Alaric strolled into Iridelle’s workshop, the familiar soft glow of enchanted lanterns illuminating the space. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with tools, gemstones, and vials of magical components. Iridelle stood at her workbench, her long blue hair cascading down her back in shimmering waves. She was bent over a large parchment, her delicate hand sketching intricate designs.

“Good afternoon, Young Master Alaric,” she greeted without looking up, her tone respectful and steady. “You’re visiting earlier than usual today.”

Alaric leaned casually against the doorframe, watching her work with an easy smile. “Something’s come up, Iridelle,” he said, stepping further into the room. “I’ve been invited to join a dungeon raid. The Golden Pelt Grotto. Three weeks from now.”

Her hand froze mid-sketch, and she finally turned to look at him, violet eyes wide with surprise. “A dungeon raid? That’s… quite the undertaking, Young Master.” She paused, her brows knitting in thought. “What do you need from me?”

“I need you to help me prepare. Enchanted artifacts, weapons, armor, scrolls—everything necessary to take on the monsters inside. They’ve got all sorts of nasties in there: Twilight Wolves, Ember Foxes, Frost Bears, Verdant Serpents, and Shimmering Scorpions.”

Iridelle’s surprise faded into professional focus as she nodded. “Understood. For something like this, you’ll need resistance artifacts to bolster your endurance, elemental artifacts to counter specific foes, and detoxification charms to handle the venomous creatures.”

“You’ve already got it all mapped out in your head, huh?” Alaric said with a grin, pulling up a stool across from her.

“It’s my duty to assist you, Young Master,” she replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she glanced back at her parchment. “I’ll create the necessary blueprints right away. Crafting the artifacts, though… That will be your task.”

“Obviously,” Alaric said with a playful wink. “You’re just the brains of the operation. I’m the hands.”

She ignored his teasing tone, already reaching for another sheet of parchment to begin sketching a new design. As she did, Alaric allowed his gaze to drift, lingering on the curve of her waist and the way her fitted blouse hugged her figure. The soft light of the lanterns highlighted her voluptuous form, and for a moment, he found himself distracted.

“Is something wrong, Young Master?” Iridelle asked, her tone curious as she caught his gaze lingering.

“Not at all,” he said smoothly, leaning over the workbench and brushing his fingers against hers under the guise of examining her sketch. “Just admiring your attention to detail.”

Iridelle didn’t seem to notice the lingering touch, instead gesturing toward her sketch. “This is a resistance ring. It will bolster your body’s ability to endure magical and physical strain. Once the blueprint is finalized, I’ll guide you through its creation.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Alaric said, withdrawing his hand and offering her a warm smile.

Over the next hour, Alaric outlined the resources needed for their preparations, assigning tasks to his maids. Kara, Evanthe, Elin, Sigrid, and Zoey were each given specific duties to procure rare materials—crystals, enchanted metals, and volatile spell components.

As the maids dispersed to fulfill their assignments, Alaric and Iridelle worked late into the evening. He handled the physical crafting, his hands moving with meticulous precision as he shaped the raw materials, while Iridelle guided him through the process with her expertise. Her voice was calm and measured, explaining the delicate intricacies of enchanting.

“Now, channel your magical energy into the gemstone,” she instructed, standing close behind him. Her hand lightly brushed his wrist as she demonstrated the motion, oblivious to the way Alaric’s gaze briefly dropped to the rise and fall of her chest.

“Like this?” he asked, feigning concentration while his fingers brushed hers.

“Yes, just like that,” she replied, her focus entirely on the artifact taking shape.

As the artifact began to hum with latent power, Iridelle smiled faintly. “Every time I see your magical control, I am amazed.”

Alaric leaned back slightly, his shoulder brushing hers. “What can I say? I’ve always had talent in it. But you are quite a good teacher as you can make an amateur like me develop such exceptional artifacts.”

Iridelle’s blush deepened, though she kept her attention firmly on the artifact. “I’m glad I can assist you, Young Master.”

By the time night fell, the workshop buzzed with the energy of their efforts. Alaric crafted with a skill that belied his youth, while Iridelle’s designs proved to be nothing short of genius.

As they worked side by side, the atmosphere grew charged—not just with the magic of creation but with an unspoken tension that neither seemed fully aware of.

As Alaric placed the finishing touches on a flame pendant designed to combat Frost Bears, he leaned back and stretched. “That’s one down. How many more do we have?”

Iridelle glanced at her notes. “At least six more, if we’re thorough.”

Alaric smirked, turning to face her. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for the next few weeks. Hope you don’t mind losing some sleep.”

Iridelle laughed softly, her gaze meeting his. “I’ll manage, Young Master. This is important, after all.”

Alaric watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable before he grinned and turned back to the workbench. “Let’s make it a masterpiece, then.”

~~

The workshop was alive with a flurry of movement and purpose, the warm glow of enchanted lanterns illuminating every corner.

Iridelle’s delicate hands sketched rapid lines across a long parchment spread out before her, the tip of her quill moving with precision and intent.

Alaric, lounging nearby on a tall stool, watched her work with a lopsided grin, one hand propped beneath his chin while the other absently twirled a small crystal shard.

“Are you going to sit there and stare all night, Young Master Alaric, or are you actually planning to do some work?” Iridelle’s voice carried the faintest hint of exasperation, though her tone remained polite.

Alaric chuckled, the sound low and lazy. “Hey, you’re the one who’s supposed to be coming up with the blueprints. I’m just waiting for you to catch up, Iridelle.”

She glanced up briefly, fixing him with her usual look—half disapproval, half reluctant amusement. “I am catching up. You’re the one distracting me.”

“Distracting?” Alaric leaned forward, propping his elbows on the workbench with an exaggerated gasp of mock offense. “I’m motivating you. Big difference.”

“Of course, Young Master.” Iridelle shook her head, though the faint pink flush on her cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by him. Her eyes returned to the parchment, scanning over her neat designs. “There. The water resistance artifact is done. Now we need to focus on the detoxification artifact for the Verdant Serpents and Shimmering Scorpions. Their venom will be no joke.”

“I trust you, Iridelle.” Alaric reached over the table to grab one of her sketches, his hand brushing hers ever so lightly as he did so.

Iridelle, oblivious, merely continued her work, but Alaric took his time pulling away, savoring the accidental contact. ’Ah, the perks of working late.’

He straightened, turning his attention to the draft. The design was brilliant, as always—delicate circles of runes intersecting in layers, the sort of thing that made him marvel at Iridelle’s meticulous genius.

“You really do good work, you know that?” he said, flipping the sketch over with a satisfied nod.

“It’s my duty to assist you, Young Master Alaric,” she replied, her tone formal as always. “If these artifacts can keep you alive in that dungeon, then I’ll have done my job.”

“Iridelle, you’re always so stiff,” Alaric teased, tossing the parchment back down. “You know, you’re allowed to smile when I compliment you. Or do I need to work harder to impress you?”

“Focus on crafting the artifacts, Young Master,” she shot back, her lips twitching. “You’ll need every bit of focus you can muster if you want to survive the Golden Pelt Grotto.”

Alaric grinned, leaning back against the bench again. ’One of these days, I’ll crack her stiff demeanor.’

—

While Iridelle perfected her designs, Alaric had the rest of his trusted maids—Kara, Evanthe, Elin, Sigrid, and Zoey—hunting for the necessary resources. He’d set them on specific tasks, dividing the labor like the efficient young master he was.

On one such day, Kara approached him in the main hall, her delicate hands clasped in front of her. “Young Master, Evanthe and Elin have returned with the Ember Crystals and Frost Shards you requested. Sigrid is still negotiating with the merchants for the Verdant Serpent’s fangs.”

“Good,” Alaric replied, nodding approvingly as he lounged in his chair. Kara tilted her head slightly, watching him for further instructions.

“And Zoey?”

“She’s verifying the quality of the silver-thread runes as we speak,” Kara said softly.

“Excellent.” Alaric’s voice carried a note of satisfaction as he stood, stretching his arms above his head. “Tell them all I’m impressed. And remind Sigrid to push for a better price. Those merchants think they can outsmart us—she should teach them otherwise.”

“I’ll relay your message, Young Master.” Kara gave a short bow before turning on her heel to leave. Alaric watched her go, his gaze lingering far longer than it should have. For a moment, he entertained the idea of calling her back, but there was still too much work to do.

—

As the weeks progressed, Alaric threw himself into the crafting process under Iridelle’s sharp guidance. The workshop became a hive of focused activity, the faint hum of magical energy filling the air as Alaric shaped enchanted metals and channeled his magic through carefully inscribed runes. Iridelle hovered nearby, her eyes scanning the process for errors while directing him step by step.

“Steady, Young Master,” she murmured as Alaric infused a crystal with fine tendrils of his magic. “Too much force, and the rune will shatter.”

“I know, I know,” Alaric muttered, his brow furrowed in concentration. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as the crystal pulsed beneath his fingers. The energy stabilized, and Iridelle let out a small breath of relief.

“Well done.” Her approval was quiet, but genuine.

Alaric let out a theatrical sigh, wiping his hands on a cloth as he grinned at her. “That was tense. Admit it—you were worried I’d ruin your masterpiece.”

“I trust your abilities, Young Master,” Iridelle said primly, though the corners of her mouth lifted just slightly.

“Of course you do. I’m a natural,” he replied cheekily, stepping closer to examine the final product. As he leaned over her shoulder to look, his hand “accidentally” brushed against her waist, lingering just long enough to make his heart race. Iridelle, focused entirely on the crystal, seemed not to notice.

“That’s the third artifact done,” she declared, straightening. “Only two more to go, and you’ll be fully equipped.”

“Two more, huh?” Alaric let out a playful groan, stretching dramatically. “You’re working me to the bone, Iridelle. I might need you to carry me into that dungeon at this rate.”

She snorted softly. “You’ll survive, Young Master.”

—

The days slipped into nights, and their combined work yielded progress Alaric could be proud of. Natasha, hearing about the raid, eagerly got involved, her eyes lighting up with determination when Alaric explained the dangers of the monsters within the Golden Pelt Grotto.

“You need protection from their magical attacks,” Natasha insisted one evening as they sat by the fire in her workshop. She gestured animatedly, her energy infectious. “I’ll make you a shield artifact—one that can block magic attacks for at least ten seconds at a time. Enough to give you breathing room.”

“That would be invaluable,” Alaric admitted, his admiration for Natasha growing. “You’re a genius.”

“Of course I am,” Natasha shot back, winking. “Just promise me you won’t break it in the first five minutes.”

Alaric laughed at her words but he didn’t promise her anything.

—

Three weeks later, Alaric stood in the workshop, surveying the fruits of their labor with pride. The weapons gleamed, humming faintly with imbued magic. The armor was polished, its enchanted runes glowing softly. The scrolls were neatly bound, their inscriptions shimmering with potential. Everything was ready.

Iridelle adjusted the last of the artifacts on the workbench, wiping her hands with a satisfied nod. “You’re prepared now, Young Master.”

“Thanks to you—and a little help from me, of course,” Alaric said, grinning. He reached out to ruffle her blue hair, an act that earned him an indignant huff.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though there was no real heat in her words.

—

Three days before the raid, Alaric left the Khysarel residence. The carriage rolled smoothly across the cobblestone roads, its interior plush and luxurious. Kara sat beside him, her soft, attentive presence soothing as he mentally reviewed the strategies he’d prepared.

“Are you excited, Young Master?” Kara asked softly, her brown eyes wide with curiosity.

“Excited and ready,” Alaric replied, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “This dungeon raid isn’t just about treasure—it’s about experiencing an exciting adventure.”

Kara nodded, though worry flickered in her expression. “Be careful, Young Master.”

“I always am,” Alaric replied with a grin.

They stopped briefly at his family mansion, where Kara stayed behind under strict instructions to keep an eye on things. The other maids were dispatched to an estate in the nearby town. With his affairs settled, Alaric mounted his stallion, a magnificent beast with a coat as black as midnight and muscles that rippled beneath the saddle.

The wind whipped through his hair as he rode, the pounding of the horse’s hooves echoing like the steady beat of a drum.

The thrill of adventure coursed through him, mingling with the satisfaction of preparation.

The Golden Pelt Grotto lay ahead, shrouded in mystery and danger—but Alaric was ready. He grinned to himself, the promise of challenge burning bright in his chest. Whatever waited for him in that dungeon, he would face it head-on.

And he would win.