Dungeon Runner (Book 1 and 2)

Breaking Step, Chapter 15

Tibs watched the Omegas work on locks and triggers as he walked among them; failing with them.

They were bad. Nearly without a fault, each of them would end up in a cell, or dead, if they were to attempt them outside of training. Worse than that, few of them seemed to enjoy handling the lockpicks and small tools. More girls than boys, and with a few exceptions, they were the smaller of the urchins. The broader and taller of them seemed to be the ones enjoying the training.

Tibs stopped a small girl from throwing the lock in anger. He didn't comfort her, ask her name, or about how she'd become a war urchin. She wouldn't survive her first run, even if the others on her team tried to keep her alive; she didn't want to be here.

He crouched and did his best to explain how to notice when she placed too much tension on the pry tool; when the pin clicked in place. What locking the pin in place meant. He didn't ask what she wanted. He didn't engage in conversation. He instructed her.

He continued as he felt eyes on him. An instructor, by the concentration of essence. He didn't care if they objected to him helping. They were forcing boys and girls who had done nothing to deserve it to walk into a dungeon with barely the skills needed to survive.

Short of them forcefully throwing him out, Tibs would use the little free time he had to increase the odds they would survive.

Even if he was doomed to fail.

When the lock clicked open, she sighed dejectedly. No joy at the accomplishment. No looking at Tibs for his opinion on her performance. She closed it up and started picking it again.

Tibs hadn't been present when the instructions were given, but each potential rogue only had one lock instead of a box with a variety of them. Of course, his training had consisted of the old trainer pointing them to such boxes and telling them to get to it. Here, the instructors did occasionally assist someone.

Tibs stood to let her continue the practice, and an instructor nodded to him before continuing on her way. She reached a small boy struggling with a trap's trigger and crouched, explaining something in whispers.

Had the only qualification to be determined as a rogue been that they were small? Was the guild hoping Sto would weed out those without the temperament to be rogues? Would they let any train for another class if they demanded it?

This... did not make sense to him, unless all the urchins were here for was to feed the dungeon.

Another instructor noticed him and said nothing.

Tibs stopped by a boy of his height and a look of determination as he used the thin tension bar to feel inside the trigger. It clicked, and a pin snapped out of the side. If this had been part of a trap, it would have activated. The boy looked around, sighing, and handed him the trap on seeing him there.

Tibs reset it and handed it back. The boy got back to work.

Maybe this one had a chance.

* * * * *

Tibs glanced over his shoulder at the time shield, then what was left of the dragon crest for him to complete.

"I won't be done in time," he announced, rotating a series of two-by-two grids to move the last piece of the dragon's left horn into place. A secondary aspect to the lock that had only become apparent once he started solving it; was identifying what pieces went where within the crest. Was that the end of a claw? The tip of a wing, or, as it had turned out to be, the end of the horn.

This was like picture puzzles, but he couldn't simply put the pieces where he thought they went and see. He had to use the spins to move them where he wanted.