Fritz awoke from a dream of endless wading. The icy water had drowned him, and he had died.

  However, it was surprisingly loud and uncomfortable for true death. There were soft voices, a quiet argument about... something. Cracking open his sticky eyes, Fritz took in the light and shadows of the Well Room. He then realised he wasn't dead at all, he had just passed out from overexertion, both of his magic and his body.

  His heart squirmed for a mere moment, and fear jolted through his chest. A remnant of poison. Perhaps enough to drown him in his present state. The beating paused only a second longer before returning to a powerful drum.

  Quickly, his mind recovered from the nightmare's haze. He didn't move, not just yet, deciding to eavesdrop while he had the chance.

  "He's fine," Toby's voice reassured. "He's just resting. He'll be his usual insufferable self soon enough. Worse, he'll be near mad with giddiness. He gets that way after injury or close calls."

  "Was it really a close call? It wasn't that bad. I could have gone on for hours more," Nail boasted.

  "No, you couldn't have," Mel argued. "You was shaking like a leaf."

  "He was freezing when I dragged him away from the Well," Toby said. "He likely didn't notice how cold he was."

  Fritz wondered how he'd been moved. In the safety of a Sixth Floor Well Room, one was normally protected from any interference with their body or their currently carried property.

  Perhaps it was because Toby meant no harm to him?

  The thought warmed him slightly, though that might have been because he was currently covered with something heavy.

  "Will he be okay?" Trudge asked. "Should we add more blankets?"

  "Any more and he'd be crushed under the weight," Reed said with a chuckle.

  "He does look a bit pale," Mel observed.

  "He also mumbled something about dying," Trudge hedged.

  "He's always been that way," Toby stated. "And don't worry too much, he's been through worse."

  "You know the Shade well, then?" Nail asked.

  "Plenty," Toby said before elaborating. "Long enough to know he'll be fine. Just let him sleep for now."

  "Alright," Clover said uneasily. "But what do we do about the ghost?"

  From where Fritz lay, he couldn't see the necromancer, but assumed it hovered somewhere high and away from the touch of the living, as he had ordered many, many times.

  "I don't know," Toby said. "It seems content to float up there for now. I'll wake him if it drifts any closer."

  Fritz wondered if the ghost could even harm anyone in this well room; surely it would be expelled from the Spire if it attacked.

  He then worried. Would he, as its current master, also be forced out if it ran amok? It wasn't worth testing, so he whispered a small order under his breath just in case the necromancer had the same thought and believed it could escape to the outside.

  It wouldn't do to let the ghost roam free amongst Rain City. While Fritz had no doubt that eventually the Scale Guard, the nobility or the King himself would be able to destroy the spectral being, the suffering it would inflict before its exorcism would be great. And knowing what he knew of the Spire's location under the districts, it would prey upon those who had no way to fend it off.

  Perhaps it would stalk the gutters and dark streets for years, killing many, maybe hundreds, before being discovered and dealt with. It was unconscionable, then, to let it escape. Fritz knew that it must be destroyed. The sooner the better.

  For now, though, he let himself rest. The ghost could be handled later. He closed his eyes, only half listening to the conversation as it turned to what useful Abilities they crew had earned. Unable to concentrate on more than a single word, he fell back into dreams.

  ---

  On his second waking that day, or was it night, Fritz felt much refreshed. Save for the dryness of his throat and the distinct pang of thirst and hunger.

  He stretched and yawned, then threw off the heaping hill of blankets that rest upon him and drank from his waterflask. It soothed him, but he found that his throat still felt raw, as if he'd been screaming.

  "His lordship awakes," Toby observed from where he sat close by.

  "Yes, and his lordship is starving. Got anything to eat?" Fritz asked grumpily.

  "Got some fish," Toby said, holding out a charred portion of the foul food.

  Fritz took it and ate gratefully and greedily. It was disgusting, but fortifying. And as weak as he felt, fortification was a fine prospect.

  Soon, there was something of a commotion. The others had noticed his awakening and came to see or ask how he was faring.

  "Well enough. I was simply tired, nothing to worry about," Fritz replied to all, keeping quiet the fleeting frailty of his heart.

  That minor inconvenience, though frightening in the moment, would pass in due time. It only likely resurfaced due to the stress on his body and mind, or maybe a twist from the Spite.

  "Good," Nail said. "Good," he repeated in a voice just under a shout. "Would hate for our Captain to be too feeble to carry on."

  Fritz smiled, hiding his disdain for the inference. "I'll be as strong as ever soon enough."

  It was true, he was standing after a minute, and stretching his stiff limbs after nine more.

  Once his muscles felt fine and his mind had cleared further, he scanned the crew. Now that they had Climbed to the sixth floor, it meant there would be a parting. He wasn't willing to bear the Spite for another four Floors, and two of the seven people before him had proved themselves a mite too mutinous to keep around for any longer.

  "Barge, Nail, you'll be leaving," Fritz announced.

  They frowned, but their disappointed glances and gloomy expressions also told that they knew this was coming.

  "That's fair, after what we did," Nail admitted.

  "Wait," Mel said, standing and dusting off her leather-armoured legs. "What if some of us want to leave? What if we don't want to suffer another four Floors?"

  Fritz raised an eyebrow. He hadn't considered it. "Do you want to give up? You're halfway to the top already."

  "Not me," Mel argued. "But Clover's been hurt over and over. It would be best for her to go. Knowing her luck, she might not survive another floor."

  "Luck? I don't care about luck. Or being hurt. I want to keep Climbing," Clover protested, standing up stubbornly and staring down Mel.

  "And I want to live in a manor with a hundred servants," Mel said. "We don't get what we want. Not if you're weak." She poked the smaller woman on the chest.

  "I'm not weak," Clover stated, slapping the finger away.

  "We're all weak. Weaker than those that rule us, rightfully or wrongfully, at least. And that's far too many servants for a manor, Mel, they'd just get in the way," Fritz digressed, hoping to diffuse any argument.

  "I'd just have a bigger manor," Mel said dismissively.

  "Good point," Fritz allowed. "Two good points, I should say. Those who no longer wish to continue the Climb, speak."

  There was an uncomfortable quiet as each reflected on the Climb so far and their willingness to continue higher. Flickers of uncertain fear, ingrained greed and stubborn ambition circled them erratically.

  Fritz watched the spectacle, not only because the lights and the way they moved were captivating, but because he suspected that the more he observed the motes of emotion, the more insight he would be able to glean from others in the future. His understanding of his truth-finding power could only grow with experience and exposure to people.

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  "Fritz, it looks like they're all willing to follow," Toby stated, breaking through his distraction.

  The man was right. All had steeled their backs, slouched and straight alike, and a dim glow of determination shone in their eyes.

  Fritz cleared his throat, and announced again, "Though you are all willing and likely able to Climb to the very top. We cannot risk the Spite's bite. As such, my decision stands, Nail, Barge, you are to leave."

  Nail grimaced, and Barge scowled.

  Before they considered attacking, not that violence would do them any good in the Well Room, Fritz spoke up again. "You should take the ores, crystals and scales we scavenged on the last floor. No sense for us to keep carrying all that weight, and it would be ungracious to let you both leave empty-handed."

  While both his reasons were genuine concerns, the more important thing in Fritz's mind was to make fewer foes. A small concession of the least valuable materials they had found was a small price to pay for not having to look over his shoulder for disgruntled former crew. Forcing them to leave with nothing, as would be appropriate for their treachery, would only earn him life long enemies.

  And if you only sowed grudges and enmity, that's all you would reap. Or at least, that's what the author of 'The Observations' asserted. Though Fritz had some criticisms of the man's philosophies, he could agree that this, mostly, was true.

  Barge and Nail didn't deserve the reward, but it was still better, for his own safety and reputation, that they go without much resentment.

  "You're just gonna give us all that?" Nail asked, squinting suspiciously.

  Fritz nodded, then swept a hand towards the sack containing the melted remnants of the gilded knight's armour. "Take that too, what's in there should be worth more than a few triads."

  "Wait! Don't go giving away our loot. We fought hard for that," Mel interrupted.

  Fritz glanced to her, then pretended to ponder her words.

  "I fought hard for it, too," Barge bristled.

  "Yeah, we did plenty," Nail argued, his chainmail clinking. "And we carried it most of the way."

  "They did help," Trudge hedged. "They deserve something."

  "Should we give them our Treasures too?" Mel asked scathingly. "Just in case it's not enough for the mutinous bastards."

  "Enough," Fritz commanded.

  She glared at him.

  He smiled gently, "They will save most of whatever price they get for the goods, then split it evenly. Is that fair?"

  "No," she huffed, but upon seeing his unwavering expression, she added. "But it's better than nothing."

  "It's decided then," Fritz stated.

  While he could tell none were too pleased at his compromise, they obeyed, and there was no further gainsaying.

  It spoke to some shortsightedness that the crew even valued the rough ores and semi-precious stones. They surely knew that the higher one Climbed the greater the riches. These materials would only weigh them down as they uncovered more wealth.

  Nail and Barge lifted their packs and the heavy sacks. After some stilted farewells, they made to leave.

  Before Barge walked down the stairs, he hugged his brother, slapped him on the shoulder with a smile, then turned and headed toward the stairway. Nail was already walking down, his back disappearing as he descended.

  Just as Barge reached the threshold, he stopped, then sighed. Turning, he approached Fritz warily.

  "Look, I know you don't like me, and you got good reason to. But can you look after Trev-Trudge? Don't hold anything I did against him. And don't think he's disloyal because he spoke up for me. He just, he's just... he's got a big heart."

  Fritz nodded slowly. "I understand why you'd worry, but I'm taking him to the Precipice. I don't mean to waste your brother's worth over your failings. Though you may be of the same blood, Trudge has proved himself thrice over. He's not a traitor, and so has nothing to fear from me."

  Barge resented the reprimand, judging from the hard glint in his eye, but truth was needed. In fact, the harshness seemingly reassured him. A strained smile stretched his face, and he held out a hand.

  "Thanks, Captain."

  Fritz glanced at the offered hand warily before taking and shaking it.

  The thug's smile grew more genuine, and he sighed again, though this time it sounded more relieved than resigned.

  Then he left.

  Trudge sniffed, holding back a small sob.

  "Don't be sad that he's left," Clover comforted. "He's safer than we are."

  "I know," Trudge said. "But it's hard."

  "It is difficult to be separated from family," Fritz commiserated. "But you'll see each other again. And you'll have a silver precipice chest to show for it."

  Trudge nodded. "Thank you."

  "There's nothing to be thankful for. As your Captain it's my duty to lead you well," Fritz proclaimed.

  "Not for that..." Trudge trailed off. "I meant... uhh... nevermind."

  The man was obviously too nervous to speak out in the open, so Fritz motioned him follow to a more secluded spot. He did so sheepishly, and soon they were far away from the rest of the crew.

  "What is it you wanted to say?" Fritz asked.

  "It's uhh... Its uhhh..." Trudge stumbled.

  Fritz smiled sharply, hoping he'd hurry up. "Go on," he urged gently.

  Trudge let out a long breath, then nodded. "I know you could have killed him. Nail too. I'm thankful that you didn't. Even if you lie and keep secrets, and you're cold and scary. Underneath all that bad stuff, you're a good man."

  Searing bile rose from within Fritz, and his smile grew brittle, jagged like broken glass. His irises burned with a chill heat, staring right into the mortal, seeking to flay its mind. "You don't know me at all, Trevor. Don't presume to judge my feats, fate or the quality of my character."

  Trudge paled, his eyes widening. He stammered an apology, but Fritz barely listened. Instead, he grappled the echoes of fey fury and the residual stains of Spite, choking them until they yielded to his own power. The alien anger was downed, dissolving like a drop of squid ink in the sea.

  Fritz came back to himself to find that his Dusksong was humming, and the man had fled.

  "What on Epsa did you say to him?" Toby asked mildly, stepping out from a shadow. "He ran like you were Jorved himself come to soak in the city's blood."

  "Alas, the Spite took advantage of my bout of weakness and my need for sleep," Fritz espoused, spinning some half-truths while he steadied himself. "My dreams must have been infiltrated. I'll apologise and explain it to him later. Once he's no longer so fearful."

  Toby nodded, accepting the claim. "I'll talk to him too. Let him know you're not a bitter bastard."

  Fritz could almost hear Bert's voice contradicting Toby. So he spoke it aloud himself. "But I am a bitter bastard."

  Toby smirked. "I'll just have to lie then."

  Fritz chuckled, though he wasn't allowed to enjoy the joke for long. There were Doors, and he needed to investigate them.

  Toby noticed his gaze drift to the three Doors, and nodded in understanding. "Go."

  "Thanks, Toby," Fritz said. "I'm glad to have you watching my back."

  Toby's smirk slid away awkwardly, his expression stiffening seriously. "You earned it."

  "Perhaps," Fritz said. He didn't feel all too worthy of loyalty at the moment, not after letting his emotions slip again.

  And not after leading a man to his death a day before, a death by his hand.

  Although he was certain that Bucket was always going to be trouble, and maybe that mutiny was set in stone, there was a small doubt lingering in the back of his mind. Fritz didn't allow it to consume him.

  He strode towards the Doors.

  The first was a shimmering portal of warm, white light encased in a circle of copper. There was little that he could glean from the surface, no scent issued, and it produced no sound save a high-pitched whine. Door Sense revealed more, long halls of polished copper and floating orbs of that same gleaming metal, patrolling slowly.

  The middle Door was a hole of natural stone, dull with a greenish hue. A light breeze blew, carrying on it a faint floral scent. Trap Sense already trilled while he looked at the entrance, and when he applied his other Senses, he was given the impression of another cavern. This Floor was also set with stone pillars like the one previous; however, their peaks weren't sharp points, but wide, flat islands suspended above a sea of pale blue flowers.

  The air around the last Door was warm, and salty steam leaked from the pale white stone. A light touch of Fritz's Senses brought forth images of scuttling, crystalline crabs lurking in tight tunnels. There was also a feeling that was hard to describe, like there was a rising tide and the Floor would soon be flooding with scalding water.

  Each Door held its perils, and Fritz couldn't decide right away, not without considering the crew's new Abilities. While he was leaning toward choosing the middle Floor, due to its lack of strange sentinels and the risk of being drowned and boiled, there was no advantage in rushing without a proper idea of their current strength.

  Relying only on his own powers was a sure way to fail.

  After striding between the Doors for another minute, making sure he missed nothing important, Fritz sought out each of the crew to question them on their new magics or increased Attributes.

  Toby was the first to endure his inquiries, but was by far the most forthcoming. He admitted that he'd gained his last Active Ability on the last floor.

  "What did you choose?"

  "Slip Skin," Toby said. "Surrounds me with a barrier that makes me more difficult to catch or slow."

  Fritz frowned, thinking it was an odd Ability to be offered in the Sunken Spire.

  "It was from my Golden Seed. From my last Climb," Toby explained.

  "It's like the sand shark's power?" Fritz asked in a whisper.

  Toby nodded. "The other choices were a poor fit."

  "I see. And what about your new dagger? I never got to hear what it did," Fritz asked.

  Toby's hand went to it protectively, as if he were afraid it would be snatched away. "It's called Chameleon's Talon," he said warily.

  "What's a chameleon?" Fritz asked.

  "I don't know, but the dagger can shift its colours to make it see through," Toby said. "Blade and hilt."

  "I see," Fritz replied. "Or rather, I don't."

  Toby smiled weakly at the still weaker joke.

  Having found out what he wanted, Fritz left him and found the next member of the crew.

  Reed cagily explained his choices, though he had already arrived at his own conclusion on what he wanted to pick.

  "I want to take Dispel Shadow. Bonebreaker Bash is good too, but I think the dispel will come in handy outside. Plenty of people in the districts have shadow powers, and it will give me an edge on those sneaky pricks. And I can always wait for a better damage Ability."

  While Fritz didn't wholly agree, he let the man make his own choice. Even if the Ability was one that could directly affect his own powers. Painfully.

  He'd have to avoid this thug's ire, and treat him well.

  "It also works well with the buckler, sort of," Reed added.

  "Oh?"

  "Yeah, it has a warning Ability, like an alarm bell," Reed said, smiling at the Treasure. "Also, it can protect from light-aligned magic. It's a pretty nice shield."

  "Very useful," Fritz agreed.

  After a couple more words admiring the buckler, Fritz moved on, approaching Mel. She just said that she hadn't got anything new, she'd already Climbed this high. Her next Ability would come on the ninth Floor.

  Fritz avoided interrogating Trudge too hard, but was able to discover that the man had taken the Bulky Passive. "I'm already big, what's another few pounds?" he had said.

  "It'll all turn into muscle, eventually," Fritz said.

  "Maybe," Trudge said without much hope.

  Lastly, Fritz spoke to Clover.

  "You wouldn't have happened to have been given an Ability to help with our ghost problem, have you?" he asked.

  "No," she said sadly. "Just some boring Passives. Cold Acclimation, Death Endurance and Strong Grip."

  "Too bad, looks like we're stuck with the prick, then," Fritz groused.

  "Sorry," she apologised.

  "No fault of yours," Fritz said. "Anyway, Death Endurance sounds interesting."

  Clover shrugged. "It makes it a bit harder to die, also death-aligned stuff will hurt me less."

  "That's good. Great even," Fritz stated.

  "Yeah." She sighed. "But it's just surviving."

  "Surviving suits you," Fritz praised.

  "I'd rather thrive, if it's all the same to you," Clover replied sourly.

  Fritz stifled a sigh. "Pick what you will. Cold Acclimation seems a fine choice, too."

  Clover nodded, then sighed herself. "I'll choose Death Endurance. As long as that ghost is around, I can't be too careful."

  Fritz nodded, thinking it a wise course of action. "Oh, by the way, I never got to read what your Treasure rod does. Would you care to tell me?" he asked.

  Clover perked up a little and smiled. "Yeah. It can make barriers, one Ability is used on people, like a barrier ring, and the other is a small wall, or more like a window, seeing as it's clear like glass."

  "Did you test it?" Fritz asked, frowning.

  She nodded. "Don't worry, I used my own gold to fill it back up."

  "Well, that will be useful," Fritz said, pondering what the rod's limits were. Could the barrier be walked upon like a wind step? Maybe a bridge of barriers could span chasm?

  "Yeah," she agreed.

  Fritz stood, signed a farewell and moved back before the Doors. Knowing what he knew now, he was still undecided. He wondered if it was time to call a vote, but swiftly discarded the thought.

  Fritz eventually chose the middle Door. Though his Trap Sense responded dimly to the Floor beyond, it held the least danger or discomfort. Or so he assumed.

  "Alright, crew!" He called out. "We leave in nine minutes, choose your Abilities, Assign your Attributes and let's get moving."

  They only had four Floors left, but there was still no time to waste. The outside world never stopped, so neither would he.