The hero sighed in relief after hearing Primalia's and Uriel's answers. "It seems that we are still in the same world. I have seen countless magic systems during my years as a hero, and a lot of different constructs, but one rule remains constant. No strength without weakness." Nale turned to Uriel "Since we are most likely still on the same world, I think that long ago some of my people travelled beyond the sea and colonized your home continent. Or wise versa, my ancestors arrived from your continent and settled mine. It doesn't really matter who travelled where, it's just a question of chickens and eggs, but the point is, since the same universal rule applies, we simply live in lands not yet discovered by others. This dungeon might be in another similarly distant land, perhaps even Kazzok's homeland."

Nale looked as the Stranger, no, Anchiel wrote his name down. He slapped himself on the head.

"Of course," He groaned, "Why didn't I think of asking if he can read and write?" Nale lokked at Anchiel apologetically. "I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner, you wouldn't have had to... do that to write. We will procure proper writing equipment to you as soon as we can."

It was then that Uriel told to collect the two in the storeroom. "I can do that." Nale volunteered, "Wait just a minute, I'll be right back" he told and left for the storeroom. But as he entered, he heard the foreman tell how one of the object was the undead's anchor, or at least, that's what he thought the foreman said. Quickly Nale dived into the crate with blades, looking for his daggers. "So, are these weapons confiscated from the prisoners?" He asked while checking.