Dahlia replied to Varanense. [color=#8fb3bd][b]"The discount's for pretty much every establishment Odin owns. Which is a lot, to be honest. He dabbles in most wares, like potions, wholesale weapons and armour, food, inns, a brothel, and pretty much everything that isn't artisanal."[/b][/color] She gave an empathetic sigh. [color=#8fb3bd][b]"Most gods would give stuff to their children for free. But Odin's the type of man who'd charge his kids rent the second they turn 14. Don't worry too much about it. The discount adds up, even if you don't pay attention to it. I'm surprised you even got one. I'm still running off my 2%."[/b][/color]

Then, Dahlia turned to face the masked youth complaining. He made an effort to show HOW PAINED HE WAS and then ran back over to the cat-eared girl.

[color=#8fb3bd][b]"That boy isn't right..."[/b][/color]

Evening turned to night in a flash. The booze provided in Little Valhalla was much more than any one of the greenhorn adventurers could have predicted. After thirty minutes, one drink was enough to release one's inhibitions. Two drinks was enough to change one's personality. Five drinks? Castor had the absolute time of his life. One that he was unable to remember, for better or worse. The festivities, though hard to recall, included Varanense flirting with a few hot adventurers and Valkyries (though they merely saw him as a quaint child—even the ones who were younger than him), Oben being very confused at the races of a few of the veterans, Kori trying to take care of someone much less drunk than herself, and Castor vanishing only to hear pained screaming at another part of the restaurant.

By midnight, not a single one was conscious. At least, none of them remembered being conscious.

[hr][h3]The next day.[/h3][hr]

The adventurers had awoken in their respective homes. For Castor, he woke up with his left elbow feeling like it was bent 90 degrees the wrong way, a feeling of loss, and his mouth tasting like vomit and old fish. Castor didn't eat any fish, which was confusing. At least, he didn't eat any that he could remember. Varanense had awoken with similar feelings of failure, but his arms were okay and he didn't spew. Or he did, but he brushed his teeth. Oben had awoken to his pockets full of small denominations of vallis. The coins practically spewed out of his pockets, almost ruining his clothes from the seams almost breaking. Kori had awoken with a heartfelt thank you note from a man who had called himself 'the hammer'. He even signed his name as a very aggressive HAMMER. It was confusing. Each one of them had woken up with a bill for the night. The cost was astounding. Oben's pocket coins couldn't even make a dent on the minimum payment.

[quote]DUE TO: [i]Odin[/i]
AMOUNT DUE: 825 000 v
INTEREST OWED: 0% YEARLY
MINIMUM PAYMENT: 100 000 v
MINIMUM PAYMENT DATE: ONE YEAR FROM NOW

[i]In the case of reaching level 2 before the due date passes, all debt owed to Odin shall be forgiven.[/i]

SIGNATORIES: [u]x [i]Óðinn[/i][/u] [u]x Vkosenmp[/u][/quote]

Sure, it was an illegible scrawl. But each of the adventurers could at least recall the fact that they did sign it, even if they didn't read any of the print. They were now in heavy debt, and the only way out was to actually join the party. Talk about indentured servitude. At least they got to keep whatever money they made in the dungeon. On the reverse side of the bill, however, was a note scrawled on it.

[quote][i]Meet outside the dungeon entrance, 11 AM. Don't be late.[/i][/quote]
[hr]
Upon arriving to the entrance, the adventurers could see Dahlia, as ready as she always was, speaking to a worried looking [url=https://i.imgur.com/sZ1wCTL.png]Pallum.[/url] On her back was a huge rucksack that had been deflated by a severe lack of loot. She didn't carry a single visible weapon, nor did she wear any armour. She was a supporter. Supporters were always a strange thing in the dungeon. Adventurers were often unable to carry both loot and fight. Supporters, however, would allow adventurers to fight without the burden of having to carry random items. There was an old saying that went around Orario: "A good supporter is worth two adventurer's backs". It was true; backpack overstuffing that caused back injury was the number three cause of retirement for adventurers. The other two were 'death' and 'permanent disability'. It was a pretty wide margin between those two and back injuries. Still, having a supporter was practically a necessity for a five man party that delved any deeper than the first five floors.

[color=#8fb3bd][b]"Ah, there they are! The men and woman of the hour! I trust you slept well? Ah, where's my manners, let me introduce you to my old associate, Penn! She's a supporter and she'll be hauling any items you don't want to carry back up. She's pretty trustworthy and I've already paid all of her fees, so don't worry about that. So for this, we're probably going to try to get as far as you can to gauge how well you work together. I'll be behind you every step of the way, so if something goes wrong, I can step in. Besides that, just try to work together as a team. Penn will support you, but she's not exactly an amazing combatant."[/b][/color] Penn had unleashed the most powerful kick that she could to Dahlia's thigh, only to be rebuked by nothing more than a slapping noise. [color=#8fb3bd][b]"So besides that, just don't worry about the formalities of all of this and just do what you usually do. Any questions?"[/b][/color]