Chapter 4: Don't Worry, It's Nothing

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Kaergat, Brunhild, and Dandelion managed to shower off, and, groaning, made their way downstairs. Andromalius was mopping the floor at the entrance to the common hall.

"Hey Andromalius! How are you doing, buddy?" Dandelion flashed him a tired grin.

Andromalius eyed Dandelion, his expression simultaneously indicating that Dandelion was beneath his notice and deserving of a slow and torturous death.

"So, I was thinking, like, seeing as it seems to be like your job around here, maybe you could clean our room?"

Andromalius' red bulk loomed over Dandelion, which was unfair. Most people could loom over her. "You have no authority over me," he growled.

"Clean their room, Andromalius," shouted Chekhov from the common hall.

Andromalius closed his eyes for a second, a look of pure hatred crossing his face.

"You heard me, right, Andromalius?" shouted Chekhov.

"Yes, master," said Andromalius. He picked up his mop and bucket and began to climb the stairs with heavy footfalls, forcing everyone else to flatten themselves to the side as he passed.

"Guy needs to take a chill pill. Or like, probably any pill. Needs to let his demonic hair down and party a bit, you know?" shrugged Dandelion.

"Oh my stars, you're hurt!" cried Wintergreen as Dandelion, Kaergat, and Brunhild came into the common hall. She ran to Brunhild, inspecting her bloodied leg.

"Don't worry, it's nothing," said Brunhild, reaching out for the bar to hold herself stable.

"Cleric! We need a cleric!" Wintergreen caught the eye of the green haired man from before. "Verano, get a cleric!"

Verano came over and said, "I dunno, Winter, I think everyone's out on quests."

"What about Sanddorn?"

"Went to the Isles of Doom to defeat the Spirit of Malevolence that was plaguing the land... I think."

"Mary?"

"She's working full time in the Temple of Apollo these days, pretty hard to get an appointment."

"Roscifer?"

"His whole party has been away on that quest for two months by now, I think they're probably dead. I mean –" Wintergreen began to tear up – "They're probably in wizard jail or something wacky like that, I'm sure they're cooking up a plan to escape right now, oh geez..." Wintergreen was now crying in earnest. She sank to the floor and covered her face. Verano knelt down and, stammering, tried to comfort her.

"Did someone say they needed a cleric?" came a deep, rich voice. A man dressed in white and gold, carrying a golden staff, stood in the entranceway.

"Oh, not now," whispered Verano, pinching his brow.

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