Brandus massaged his throbbing temple, facing such a rhetorical question.
Brandus was a good man; he swore that he was.
He had been an honest, law-abiding, Goddess-fearing man his entire life. And after working with Gary, he held no doubt that the word 'patient' also applied to him. No, after ten years, 'saint' seemed more fitting.
Even then, nothing would fill his weary soul with joyous rapture more than to commence the beatings.
Just hearing Gary describe himself as silent made the veins on his neck unrelentingly pulse with heat. The only time such a man would fit that term would be when he is lowered into his grave.
No, even then he might not be safe.
After making a mental note to be the one to fill whatever ditch Gary ended up buried in-- along with making his death a personal holiday --he finally gained temporary inner peace.
Until the quick sharp jabs of an elbow landed against the side of his stomach.
Honestly, for an adventurer, Gary's survival instinct was nonexistent.
"Enough." Brandus wearily demanded. Oh, how often had he spoken that word? He grasped the guilty party's forearm, squeezing until the point Gary's arm plating bent inwards-- earning a painful grunt --before roughly tossing it aside. "No more games. No more thievery. You should understand that I speak for everyone when I say, quit trying to screw us over. You hear me?"
"Yea, yea," Gary said, brooding over the new dent in his armor. "Loud and clear." It didn't matter too much. The stolen pages were more than plenty to hold his klepto self over.
"Great. Now hand it over."
Hand it over? Such a phrase sounded foreign to Gary.
"...Hand what over?"
"All the pages you so graciously took without permission." Brandus held his palm out, awaiting the goods. "And I mean all of them." After over a hundred dungeon runs with the 'Gold Guards', he had perfected the art of demanding thieves to return stolen goods. His upturned hands and straight tone left no room for argument or wriggle room. But that didn't mean Gary wouldn't try.
"Can't we just call that a finders fee?" He offered.
"..."
"It was worth a shot." He shrugged, reaching into his storage bag and pulling out a tall stack of papers, placing it into his outstretched palm.
Brandus stared disbelievingly at the pile of paper in his hands, alternating his gaze between them and Gary. This amount... was downright criminal.
"Something wrong?" Gary inquired, discerning his shock.
'Other than your appetite?' he thought with resignation, stuffing the stack into his own bag: "No."
They both headed back to the team-- with Gary sporting a pulled-up collar --ignoring the dubious stares. They may have separated from the group for privacy, but the other end of a reverberated hall could only offer so much.
"You alright there, Gary? I heard some awful sounds back there. It will be a shame if you aren't feeling too good." She giggled sadistically. Shasa had a rather pleased expression, no doubt taking joy in someone else's pain.
"It's a good thing you aren't our ranger; me and Brandus were discussing our upcoming strategy," He said, keeping a straight face. "You should get your ears checked the moment we get back. After the bath, of course."
"Oh, still got jokes? I was hoping Brandus could beat that shitty humor out of you. Such a shame, it sounded like he got close."
Gary let out a heartfelt chuckle. Now that was funny: "You have no idea how wrong you are."
After the interlude, the adventuring began in earnest. Walking into the farthest reach of the room, the dim [Light] spell cast by Alfred exorcised the shadows around them, revealing the first door.
Calling it a door would be misleading. Each piece of this monstrosity was ten meters long, and five wide, taking up over a third of the wall it had been embedded into. With the intricate beastial patterns that glittered from the midnight glass metal it had been forged from, it resembled a gate to the throne room more than any regular door.
The combination of art and sheer size would be a source of admiration for any race, including that of the ever-judgmental dragons. Gary was no exception, looking up and down its height with a sense of appreciation.
Just from the first door, one could sense the high level of artistic taste the previous owner had.
Truly, a man after his own heart.
And with that thought, he lifted his leg, flinging the heavy gate wide open with a powerful kick from his steel-clad foot.
The gate effortlessly swung open without a single sound of grating, despite its size or age. It opened its maw to the black space that lay behind, before striking either end of the wall with a reverberating Boom.
Pulling his extended leg back, Gary was more than pleased at the powerful vibrations that shook the ground before him. It was an imposing entrance, if he said so himself. However, his teammates were less impressed by the grandiose opening, proven by the immediate chastising that was hurled his way.
A mock apology and helpless smile was his response, understanding where their vigilance came from. But looking around the dark chamber, he failed to feel the same level of caution that his comrades took up. After all, where else would he find the Compendium? It wasn't exactly a cheap newspaper; no one would have placed it in the front hall.
Unlike his team, he had been down this hall before, just like the others that awaited them further in.