The road back to Lupos felt shorter than the road toward the dungeon, probably because everyone was relaxed and merrily chatting among themselves.
Once the Black Hounds reached the eastern gate, they looked like survivors crawling out of a battlefield, with their torn clothes and dried blood.
The guards at the gate straightened the moment they saw them.
One of them lowered his spear and spoke.
"Halt! Identify yourselves."
Derrick lifted his head weakly from the wagon.
"Your mother."
The guard blinked, shocked.
Garren stepped forward quickly before the situation got worse.
"We were part of the dungeon expedition sent out this morning," he said, his voice tired but steady. "It failed."
The guard's expression changed at once.
He looked past Garren toward the wagon and the lack of people. Those who did return all appeared to be wounded as well, and more than half of the cargo from the morning was gone too.
"What happened?"
