The first foray into the ruins had gone so well for the adventurers that their confidence overflowed into the next expedition. The news of their endeavors was also spreading, and it attracted others. Some had come to see the condition of the esteemed estate, some had come to prove themselves, and others had come to do both.

Lucy selected ones that she believed brought something new for the others. Three people had arrived during the second week: Pistres, Mesnage, and Froissart. Pistres claimed to have immediately left his crew of bandits when he heard the estate was occupied again. Mesnage carried her weapon, a glaive, as if it was a walking stick. She kept her hair pulled back. Froissart looked overprepared compared to the other two. She carried a shovel on her back, a pickaxe at one hip, and knives on the other. She also had a vial of green liquid that she referred to only as her "special recipe."

When it was time to pick the next team for another ruins venture, Arundel informed Lucy that she would instead be spending time to ensure the brothel would be a place worthy for the adventurers. Bordel wanted to go back, but Lucy didn't want to overwork the healer. Reynauld eagerly volunteered himself. Dismas also volunteered, claiming that he had to be a buffer between Reynauld and the newcomers. They'd either die from hearing Reynauld talk so much, or they'd flee and never be seen again.

So Reynauld and Dismas accompanied Mesnage and Froissart on their first journey into the ruins. Although Reynauld and Dismas had only been down once before, they moved and acted as though they had done this hundreds of times. Mesnage put on the same airs, but it was unclear whether she was copying Reynauld and Dismas or if that was her personality. Froissart was the only one not brimming with confidence. She showed no signs of fear, either. In fact, she didn't show any signs of feeling anything.

Some skeletons greeted the party when they entered the ruins. They fell quickly to some gunshots and weapon slicing. There were a few interesting things to investigate here and there. Lucy would certainly appreciate the heirlooms they found.

Reynauld pulled open a creaking door that led inside a chamber. Their torch illuminated a musty room lined with bookshelves. A fireplace that looked as if it hadn't been used in years was directly across from the door. Even more books were piled on top of it. Two decrepit armchairs had been angled in front of the fireplace. It all might have been a picturesque scene once.

"This looks like a fine place to rest." Dismas fell sideways into the nearest chair, stretching his legs over one of the arms. He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned backwards, closing his eyes with a sigh.

"Now's not the time, Dismas. We – " Reynauld trailed off as Mesnage sat in the other chair.

She noticed his dumbfounded stare. "What? We won't be our best if we push ourselves to exhaustion."

Froissart leaned against Mesnage's chair. "I need to make sure my recipe is at its full potency anyways. Wouldn't want to leave anyone disappointed."

"Fine!" Reynauld rolled his eyes. He stepped over to the fireplace, leaned against it, and crossed his arms. Something in the opposite corner caught his eye. He squinted for a better look. "What is that?"

A crack sounded in answer. Reynauld ducked. He shut his eyes tight, but no pain came. Instead, Froissart cried out, and the color drained from his face.

Dismas and Mesnage had dropped to the ground at the sound of the gunshot, but now they both took to offense. Dismas fired a return shot, and Mesnage lunged forward with her glaive.

Reynauld focused on Froissart. She had fallen to her knees and was attempting to steady her breathing. "Where is it?" he asked.

"My back," she gasped.

He knelt behind her to get a better look. He knew basic wound care, but was sure he wouldn't be much help. Without Bordel, Froissart wouldn't get proper help down in the ruins.

"REYNAULD!"

Reynauld looked up at Dismas's shout to see the barrel of a flintlock pistol. He grabbed Froissart and dove to the side. The bullet flew past them, right where Reynauld's head had been a moment before. In one swift movement, Froissart used her free arm to grab a dagger from her belt and throw it into the bandit's chest.

As Froissart reached for another dagger, two hands seized Reynauld and threw him onto his back. He covered his face with his arms, and a rain of whips landed on his vambraces.

Mesnage let out a deafening shout, catching the bloodletter off guard. His whips eased off Reynauld. Dismas took the opening and fired at the bandit's head. The bullet whizzed past the bandit, and Dismas clicked his tongue.

As the bandit regained his senses, Mesnage locked her arms under Froissart's and pulled her to her feet. Reynauld scrambled up and finally had the chance to draw his sword. "We need to get out of here!" he shouted. He took a defensive stance as Mesnage pulled Froissart past him and towards the door. Dismas fired another shot at the large bandit, successfully hitting his chest this time.

The smaller bandit, using an armchair as cover, fired at the retreating crew. Froissart shrieked as the bullet tore into her shoulder. The other bandit fired, scraping the side of Reynauld's arm. As soon as Mesnage dragged Froissart through the door, Dismas and Reynauld followed and slammed it shut. They launched their bodies against it, feeling the bandits do the same. Mesnage grabbed a nearby wooden beam and shoved it through the two rings on the door.

"Come on!" she commanded. "That won't hold them long!"

Dismas and Reynauld picked up Froissart between them, putting her arms around their shoulders.

"Wait!" Her voice was quiet. "Someone grab my hat." It had fallen in the commotion.

Reynauld exhaled in disbelief, and Dismas chuckled. Mesnage grabbed the hat and put in on her own head. "You've got your priorities figured out, haven't you?" she asked.

They heard the wooden beam crack behind them. "Let's move," Reynauld said.

o o o

The tavern door banged open. The handful of people inside looked up as Mesnage, still wearing the hat, stormed in. She led Reynauld and Dismas who dragged a nearly unconscious Froissart. Lucy jumped to her feet, sending her chair to the floor. "Froissart!"

"Find Bordel," Dismas commanded as he rushed past.

Lucy sprinted outside as the crew hurried to the back of the tavern and up a flight of stairs to the brothel. Mesnage wrenched open the first door, and Dismas and Reynauld lifted Froissart onto the bed. "We'd best get that coat off her." Reynauld propped Froissart up. Dismas and Mesnage managed to remove Froissart's various equipment, setting her secret recipe and variety of weapons on the bedside table. They draped her coat over a chair, revealing her bloodstained undershirt.

Reynauld gingerly rolled Froissart onto her side. Maybe it was because they could only wait now, but Froissart's breaths seemed louder and more ragged.

Lucy's voice preceded her and Bordel. "I'm so sorry, I should never have let them go without a healer."

"Apologies do nothing now. What's done is done." Bordel appeared in the doorframe. "Now to see if we can fix it and do better." She knelt at the bedside with a book in one hand and the other raised. Her quiet prayer filled the room while the others waited. There was a golden flash and a sigh from Froissart.

Froissart's tangled mess of brown hair moved slightly. "Where's my hat?" she muttered. A wave of relief washed over the room.

Grinning, Mesnage pulled the hat off and placed it on the bed next to Froissart. "Right here, my friend."

I was a little nervous about writing out this kind of scene, but it does happen a lot in Darkest Dungeon. I'm basing these chapters off of things that really happened in my own playthrough, and it's fun to write out the suspense I felt while playing.

Thanks for reading!