16. Treasure Hunters

((Author's Note: Also doubles as the Dungeons and Dragons AU I never knew I needed, but certainly want now.))

Chrom would never admit it out loud… But he does have a certain affinity for collecting 'shinies.' At least, that's what his sisters always jokingly call them, whenever he brings his findings back to the guild. But since it always brings a smile to their faces, and keeps the Ylissean Guild well financed and afloat, Chrom's fine with the odd names Lissa comes up with.

'Wonder what they'll think of this one… If I manage to find it.' He regards the ruins at that thought. This place might have once been a castle, tomb, or an altar; the architecture can never seem to make up its mind. In one hall are vaulted ceilings, reminiscent of the grand old cathedrals where he learned his prayers and later invocations. Off in one room is an armory full of old rusted weapons, poor choices compared to his own blade. And connecting all these disparate parts are long, foreboding hallways, illuminated only by the light of his torch.

Chrom carefully picks his way along the ruined, tomb-like floors. He digs out a handful of stones from his pocket, and then scatters them along the floor tiles up ahead-

And watches as the hall before him gets shot, crushed, and otherwise mangled, as a collection of traps all go off at once. Chrom holds his breath for a moment… Until finally one last arrow spits out of a hole in the walls, and falls woefully short thanks to its fletchings being crushed, and the shaft splintered.

"…Guess it's a lucky thing this place is so old; the mechanisms for the traps are all frayed, and ready to go off at anything." Says a sudden voice in his ear. It sends him scrambling to the side, flailing with his arms and ready to fight off a monster. And when he catches sight of the speaker, he's half convinced he's come face to face with a demon; there's a slight violet tinge to the stranger's skin, the impression of horns growing from her head, and even a long tail flicking between booted feet.

'Tiefling!' His thoughts blare in panic.

He barely notices that he's blundering close to the traps… Until a hand snaps over his chest belt and yanks him forward, a split second before another volley of arrows goes off.

Chrom stares from the hand, up to a woman's face. She's frowning at him, and there's a slight widening of her black and red eyes to show how startled she is.

"Guess those traps aren't the only thing on a hair trigger." She tells him.

"I-I thought you were a monster." He tells her… And instantly regrets his words. How many times does a tiefling have to hear that accusation, he wonders? He remembers the lecture he got from Emmeryn, the first time he made that mistake; that the creatures aren't necessarily evil, just like humans aren't automatically good or trustworthy. "I-I mean… This isn't exactly a place I expect to meet new people."

"Likewise!" She shoots back, the sharp humor covering any hurt that crosses her face. "Though I hope you've figured out I'm NOT a monster."

He takes her in; the cut of her coat and its colors make her almost blend into the old tomb, save for her silvery hair.

"R-right. You're certainly too-" he claps a hand over his mouth, before he can say something stupid. But he wonders if 'striking' is spoken anyway, judging by how the stranger gives him a sharp look.

'Maybe I should take a short walk down that hallway and trip some of the remaining traps. Save myself a lot of pain and embarrassment.' He starts to think. But that thought fades away when the stranger gives him a nervous smile.

It makes him wonder, just how many harsh responses she's gotten, that his own awkward bumbling seems friendly.

"W-Well… The point is, I get that you're not here to kill me. Though… I'm guessing we're both after the same treasure." Chrom tells her. The torch he has is burning low, and he can't quite pick out the guild mark on her. But at the very least, she seems friendly. And not at all willing to have him blunder into traps.

"True… But I'm ready to declare a truce, up until we find the thing." She pauses, giving Chrom a cautious, sidelong glance. Her hands release his clothing, giving her room to step back and putted a guarded expression over her face. "Provided you can trust me."

"I…" A part of him hesitates. The part that can't so easily shed the stories of infernal legacies, and deals with monstrous creatures. But the rest of him remembers that if she wanted him dead, she had ample opportunity. "I… Can accept that."

And if he's going to offer her trust, he should probably give a name as well.

"I'm Chrom, by the by." The tiefling hesitates at that, giving him a surprised look.

"…Robin." She tells him. "And truce accepted."

-o-o-o-

He's glad for the truce; because it turns out Robin has a knack for exploring dungeons, and picking out traps. Her keen sight is a lot more reliable than just throwing rocks down hallways, and hoping they'll trip anything… Especially when they start working their way around trap floors; he can just pick out the stench of acid or brimstone boiling up from cracks in the ground, and has no desire to get a closer look.

When he voices his thoughts out loud, Robin snorts… And then coughs on some of the dust. It takes a moment of wheezing before she can gather her words and breath.

In the process, she leans against one of the walls. Chrom tenses a little at that, before reminding himself of Robin's keen eyes. If she's resting against it, then there likely aren't any traps. What there IS, however, is a collection of odd runes scoured into the stone; he sees that much when he brings the torch closer.

Robin lifts her eyes to the runes as well, and murmurs something under her breath.

"Can you read these things?" Chrom asks. When Robin nods, there seems to be some reluctance to her motions.

"My father taught me…" She trails off again, and finishes reading the inscription. "Roughly translated, it lists magic formulas in parts, before…" She brushes a hand over a set of engravings that seem almost violently gouged into the stone, overwriting the older script. "Before saying 'Do not disturb my work, lest you seek to join my ranks.' At least we're getting a better idea of what it is we're dealing with." Robin tells him, tracing her hands over the old carvings. "And it looks like the rumors about this place were right. This has to be the one of the labs of Alchemist-Mage Forneus."

"Don't say that name too loudly." Chrom cautions her, fighting down a shudder of his own. Unease seems to cling to Robin as well.

"…Good point. There's no telling what other sorts of arcane protections he might have. Or if his name could activate the-"

Robin cuts off, as a glimmer of something white skates across the floor.

"Looks like you were right about that much." Robin mutters, wincing as her eyes pick something out in the gloom. When Chrom tries to look, he catches sight of things gliding and twisting across the floor, and gleaming almost like bone. Most unnerving, is that there's no sound accompanying those flickering movements-

Robin gives a soft murmur, and the light of his torch blazes up, coating the surroundings with an odd purple tinge. In the expanded light, he can see a strange, snake like creatures slithering towards them… If those snakes were made entirely of bone and affixed with a human skull.

"…Definitely the work of the Alchemist-Mage." He faintly hears Robin speak, while he watches the things. "We've got some fighting to do, because I think there's more than a few bone golems to get through."

Chrom tries to talk… But there's something to the creatures movements that halts his words. There's a strange macabre grace to the patterns they twist in. Something that demands his attention, even as his eyes glaze over-

He's vaguely aware of the torch getting pried out of his grip, followed by an explosion of violet flames eating into the bone serpents. Robin swings her improvised torch about, and he can hear a strange incantation filter through the fog in his head.

The wash of violet flames seem to spread out as Robin sweeps her hands out, the fire following her motions, and making the serpents crackle and twist in the flames. In the same moment, the paralysis coating Chrom seems to snap away; it makes him snap out in turn, drawing his sword in one clean motion and slicing into the monsters.

Some of the haze seems to linger in his mind, with how much of a blur the battle is. And somewhere along the way, he feels a puncture in his neck, followed by a drop to the floor…

…Only for awareness to slowly seep back into him, as he finds himself in a different room. There's no trace of the golems, save for a lingering pain in his neck.

"…Okay, good." Robin breathes out, and he faintly realizes she's kneeling over him. "You're not dead after all."

"Wh… What…?" Chrom whispers, as Robin pulls back from him. She also wraps her hands around his shoulders, tugging him up in the process.

"One of those necrophidius scored a bite on you. But only after you tore through one of them, and wounded another. Which… I owe you some thanks for. I would've burned through all my spells, otherwise."

"Glad to know I wasn't completely useless." Chrom rolls his shoulders, trying to ease out the pain in his neck. He looks around as well, taking in the new location. The place is a dome like room, barren save for the torch and kindling burning in the center.

"I'm guessing this was an old lab, or ritual chamber. Some place that the monsters avoid. But that also means no rush with resting up. I need to recharge as well." Robin tells him, glancing around the chamber. "And I searched this place for traps, and it looks pretty safe. We can catch our breath here."

He gives a quick nod, easing his way back down to the blankets. Gradually, the last of the poison seems to drain out of him… Though as he waits, Chrom finds the silence and stillness of the room weighs down on him.

"So… Is it okay to ask why you're here?" He finds himself asking, desperate for conversation. Robin hasn't lost her cautious nature… But it seems like she's also tired of hearing only the crackle of their fire, as she gives a hesitant nod.

"If you'll give me your reasons as well." She tells him. "And… The truth is, I've heard about this place, from my… Guild." His eyebrows quirk up at that; it makes him wonder if she's still working for a guild or not. Even with the brighter firelight, Chrom still can't pick out any guild symbol or crest on her clothing. His shoulder twitches, making him wonder if she's opted for a mark on her skin instead.

"I need some resources now, and I'm hoping the treasure of this place can give me that… And maybe learn a little more about the archmage." Chrom gives her a worried look at that. And as he watches her, he wonders at her appearance; she already has a spark back to her eyes, and her skin seems to glow with power.

'She gains strength faster than most wizards or sorcerers… Even Miriel can't recharge that quickly.'

"Why would you want to study such a mage? Especially after we've seen his handiwork…" Handiwork that reminds him of Robin's spell work, for some reason. Slowly, the ideas click together with him; why she's recharged so quickly, the strange violet energy clinging to her spells… And, if he thinks back, an odd, almost eldritch ringing in his ears.

"…Robin." He asks, tensing away from her. "…Exactly how did you acquire your magic?"

"…Pacts." It's just one word, but it seems particularly bitter when it leaves her mouth. As his eyes narrow, she bristles a little. "Chrom, I'm a spell user. And not all of us can rely on divine favor, considering our… Backgrounds. Do you think a divine dragon would want to treat with me? After what my father asked of me-?"

She seems to regret says that, with how she cuts off.

"What did he…?"

"…Let's just say that I swore to pacts, because I desperately wanted to please him, and didn't know any better." Robin doesn't meet his eyes any longer. "So. Do you want to pass some judgement on me, and start smiting me down?"

"I… Nothing like that." Chrom says, ducking his head, and feeling shame color his cheeks. He's glad Emmeryn was too busy to sign up for this mission, given the scolding she'd likely heap on him.

'Even if she IS a warlock… She saved your neck.'

"I guess I owe you a story of my own, instead." He tells her. And in turn, finds himself explaining the background of his guild. How it was founded by him, his sisters, and their retainers. And while it isn't the safest line of work, it's also the best way to acquire gold, to keep their small army of a guild going.

"It… Certainly seems like you look out for each other." Robin says, sounding mystified by the concept. And he desperately wants to press the matter, to figure out just what happened to her, in her family and guild… But he also knows he's pushed her enough as is.

"Y-yeah. Though I guess I could do a better job with looking out for other people." Robin hesitates at that, raising her head to look at Chrom. This time he looks her straight in the eyes. "What I'm trying to say is… Sorry. About being so quick to jump to conclusions about you. I'll try to do better, as long as our truce lasts."

-o-o-o-

Eventually, they gather their strength up, and leave the campsite behind. Their steps echo down the halls and Chrom picks out more elaborate, almost draconic carvings lining the passages. As they pick their way along, Robin can't seem to decide how closely she should walk to him. Her trap tripping gets a little more rough as well, and leaves her choking on dust after a ceiling almost crash lands on them.

"Y-you know, your methods weren't bad at all. In a place this old and frayed, trying to trip things ahead of time isn't a bad idea. Less sneezing that way as well." She tells him. "You had the right idea-"

She's busy wiping the dust from her eyes, not noticing how Chrom hurries ahead… Until something in the dungeon gives a low hissing noise. Chrom freezes in place, readying his blade and this time letting divine power crackle along the sword.

"…So you ARE a paladin." Robin has enough time to murmur, before something wrenches its way out of the branch in the halls. Chrom's stomach sinks at the sight; at first he thinks it might be a sphere, or some odd milky colored wisp. Then he realizes he's staring into a single, giant eye, set in a fleshy mass that is half decayed. A broken jaw filled with serrated teeth hangs beneath that milky eye, looking half broken.

"Beholder-!?" Robin hisses that out, scrambling back. The eye snaps to her, but doesn't focus right. That's when Chrom realizes that they're facing against the corpse of a monster, animated by magic that doesn't care about preserving the creature; just keeping it lethal in case adventurers stumble across it.

"R-revenant!" He screams, remembering Emm's lessons and Lissa's ghost stories. "Eye revenant!"

The monster lacks speech; its tongue and mind are so rotted away that it can only give a strange, guttural hiss.

Chrom throws himself forward, his blade glowing in the dim light. Robin however steps back, raising her hands and giving a soft murmur; this time his senses are a little clearer, and he recognizes it as a cross between a prayer and an incantation… Though it's not something Chrom recognizes.

He DOES however, recognize that sudden spike of temperature in the hallway, and throws himself beneath the monster. He barely manages to duck under the creature, skidding and leaving skin along the tiles. The light along his sword flickers as the monster tries to turn on him… But that's when Robin's fire spell takes effect. Flames explode up from the floor, searing at the rotting flesh and singeing some of the remaining eyestalks.

'Not bad-' Chrom has time to think, before the monster turns its glare on Robin. The flames she summoned snuff out, before the monster spins again eyestalks whipping about, and Robin herself collapses to the floor with a sharp gasp. Blood splatters the bricks as she falls, and Chrom remembers the other warnings; a glare that can cancel magic, or tear open wounds. And damaged as the eyes are by death and rot, some of the abilities are still potent.

And now the monster is trying to face him, hovering and spinning in the air. Chrom tries to bring the blade against the monster, praying that the holy energies flickering along the sword will still be enough-

But something keeps him held fast to the ground. Chrom glances around, startled… And sees long, boney fingers clawing their way up from the ground, digging into his cape and limbs.

"Robin! Any ideas!?" He shouts out, trying to twist and get free from the skeletal hands. He's certain that zombies and skeletons are trying to claw their way up from the earth, and he has to fight to break free from them.

Robin bleeds when she raises her head… But there's a decisive look in her eyes that worries him.

She throws herself forward, shrugging off her robe as she charges. Her blood looks oddly vivid against the violet of her skin, like her wounds aren't closing under the gaze of the monster.

'Forneus made a potent revenant-' But that doesn't stop Robin, as she throws herself into the creature and flings her robe over the central eye. She tries to tear herself away, but the jaws snap down at her arm.

A pained noise comes out of Robin's throat at that, and it seems to fuel a spell growing on her fingertips. She slams her hand onto her robe and the monster behind it, and delivers a point blank blast of magic. Otherworldly pink and violet energy spark off her hands, pierce through her robe, and slam into the monster. A set of eye stalks wilt and fall to the floor, like dead leaves.

The jaws part in a silent, pained shriek, as Robin pulls herself away.

"I… Think I'll borrow one of your tricks." She murmurs, and claws a few stones up from the floor. She scatters them across the stones, and another source of heat floods the air. And Chrom stops trying to fight his way up, and instead presses himself flat into the ground.

Flame shoots from the mouths of the carvings lining the halls, crashing into the revenant and knocking it from the air. Robin gives a faint snarl as she watches, and the blood on her wounds seems to almost glow, and gives the fire an extra bite to it; a reminder that her blood carries a potent, if infernal pact, and can fuel a burning rebuke. Under her desperate magic work the monster crashes into the ground. The robe over its eye finally falls away as it glares at Robin, drawing more blood from her wounds… But blind to how Chrom finally manages to break free from the bones, and drives his sword into the monster's skull.

The sound that comes from the beast pierces his ears, almost makes him drop his sword. The arms holding him crumble into dust, as Chrom pulls the blade free and starts to stagger back… Forgetting that there are still traps waiting all around them.

"WATCH OUT!" Robin shouts. She also doesn't give him a chance to do more than flinch, or glimpse the spikes rushing down on him; before his skin can get skewered, she throws herself into him, grabbing her robe in the same motion, knocking him out of the way and sending them both skidding along the ground. The screech of the revenant cuts out, replaced by a sickening crunching sound.

A few more traps crash and shatter the stonework overhead. Flame blasts overhead as well, charring the bricks. Chrom throws his arms around her, sheltering her from shrapnel and broken bits of trap.

They slide along the floor, the ceiling blurring past Chrom as he clings to Robin. He doesn't know how much he can keep her safe, but he still tries to shelter her… Until at last they skid to a stop.

"…Well. That's a different way of getting through the passages." Robin says, staring down at him.

"S-sorry-?" He offers, realizing how he has her pressed into his chest.

"We're alive. If a bit bloodied." Robin tells him. "And if I'm not mistaken, we've much closer to the treasure chamber… Which means you can probably let me go."

"R-right! Right." Chrom tries to gently lift her off him, and scramble out from under her all at the same time. Robin slides off, gazing around and only looking a little oddly pink in the face, as soft rays of lights shine through the broken ceiling.

Watching her, step off him and towards the center of the room, Chrom is faintly aware that they've come to a rest next to a pedestal, shaped into fine carvings that no human hand could manage. "If I remember right, this should be…"

He lifts his head, to see her hand resting atop the carvings, and violet-black gem atop the stonework tendrils.

And with her hand in the light, he can finally see the guild symbol emblazoned on her hand.

"Gr-Grimleal!?" Chrom spits out. "You're part of the Grimleal Guild!?"

Robin flinches at that, and in the same motion sees his own guild mark; the Ylissean brand, a stark contrast against the Grimleal mark… And that's by design, considering how often the two guilds are at odds.

"Well, sir…" Robin mutters, not meeting him eye to eye, and pulling her robe over her shoulders like a shield. "Now that we've found the treasure, I'd say that our truce is complete."

But even with her words, he can see how her fingers shiver, and hesitate to close on the gemstone.

Chrom's hand go to the sword at his side, wondering if it's finally time to bring to bear against her. Chrom glares at Robin, remembering the stories of the Grimleal, of their profane rituals. Robin meets him with that glare, tensing, looking ready to face his blade. Chrom starts to draw it… And feels the pommel bump against his bruises, where he slid along the floor.

'Don't you remember? You'd be nursing worse, if it wasn't for her.'

The sword slams back into the sheath, with an impact that makes Robin wince.

"…I owe you, for keeping me alive." Chrom grumbles, dropping his gaze.

Only to start, when the purple gem fills his vision. Robin holds the treasure in front of him, waiting for him to take it. Instead, Chrom stares up at her in confusion.

"Sir, you never DID figure out exactly why I came here. Or if it was on behalf of my old guild." Robin tells him.

"Your… Old guild?" He worries she'll flinch away from his questions again. Instead, she pulls herself up with a proud tilt of her head.

"If I remember correctly, one can leave one guild in favor of another. IF they can find someone willing to vouch for them." She recites the rules. "And… The Grimleal haven't done me any favors. It's part of why I…" She dips her head, letting the light show on her budding horns. "…Why I didn't have much choice, in many aspects."

Her hand goes up to trace her horns, and her tail betrays a little of her emotions, giving an anxious lash. Chrom also takes in the bite marks along Robin's skin. The punctures look painful, ragged at the edges and bleeding odd, red-violet blood.

"That's right… Y-You're… Hurt." He finds himself saying, and standing up. He carefully closes his hands over her arm, and lets a surge of energy travel out through his palms. Robin starts, feeling the jolt of healing travel along her skin and purify her wounds.

"…Never had someone willing to lay hands on me." Robin murmurs. And getting a closer look at her arms, Chrom can pick out faded scars along her arms. "So… What does that mean, that you'd stoop to healing the likes of me-?"

"It means that I made a mistake, in thinking you're my enemy. Several times over." Chrom whispers. "And… I could use a partner, in delving through dungeons like these."

He holds her wrist for a moment longer, before closing her fingers around the gem.

"You can keep the treasure, too. I've made a much better and priceless find." He grins, even as Robin finds enough strength to cuff him, laughing the entire time. It turns out she laughs a lot like he does, and has nearly the same strength in her grip when they clasp hands.

"I… Suppose I can accept that. I made a pretty good discovery as well." She tells him, favoring him with a surprisingly bright smile. And Chrom decides not to press her too much on what that discovery is; her eyes tell him enough, almost sparking whenever they meet his.