A light afternoon breeze hurled road dust at my face. I was at the back of our procession, Maggie just a step ahead of me. Aside from the distraction of dust in my mouth, there was little to keep focus on.

  Back in the forest, every step had to be watched. You constantly had to scan for signs of movement, traps, enemy cultists, or anything else that might seek to ambush the column from a break in the sight line.

  Out here, however, we marched down a wide, partially paved road, our surroundings limited to a single unchanging vista. I could admit, however, that the march was incredibly fast. In the time it would take to cover a mile in the forest, we had done four.

  Maggie slowed slightly and allowed me to come into step with her. She’d gone quiet a couple of hours ago after she told us where the monster dens she wanted us to clear were. Nora, Mika, and Ellen walked a couple meters ahead, the trio just casually shooting the breeze. They paid little to no attention to their surroundings, as if this was a leisurely walk.

  Part of me screamed to correct that behavior, to force them into proper marching discipline the way my trainers would have. I knew I was a stranger to these lands, however. I had no idea what the proper marching procedure was. Maggie was familiar, and I contented myself with knowing that if the three of them needed to be corrected, she would have done so.

  We’d split into two groups barely a mile outside of Woodsedge. Their exclusion of Maggie and I wasn’t intentional, merely the byproduct of introducing two newcomers into an already established group dynamic.

  “You don’t have to be so formal, y’know?” Maggie said, breaking the silence.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at yourself. You’re walking like we’re about to be attacked. You can relax.” Maggie’s smile took most of the sting out of the rebuke

  “We are marching, are we not?”

  “Well, yes, technically. But this isn’t a military band, Bran. You’re walking on the Emperor’s Highway with three other kids towards your first adventurer. Not marching off to war.”

  I let the conversation lapse into silence after that, Maggie content to walk beside me. She was right, in a sense. We weren’t marching to war. Even her kid comment had merit. If Maggie was in her third Tier than she was at least thirty years old. Perhaps over a century, depending on how long her career change took.

  “How much longer until we get to see something interesting?” Ellen called back at us. Interrupting my line of thought.

  “Got a while to go still. Today’s just eating ground. Probably the same tomorrow.” Maggie answered.

  An annoyed scowl flitted across Ellen’s face and was gone again before she rejoined her conversation with Mika and Nora.

  True to her word, when the sun dipped below the horizon and Maggie called a halt to the march, we’d done and seen nothing of note. The occasional pillar of chimney smoke from a distant hamlet the only breaks in monotony.

  “Alright kids, this is closer than where I wanted to be by the end of our first day. So, we can either bed down here or keep going until we hit the original campsite in a couple of hours. Up to y’all.” Maggie said as we gathered. The orange glow of the sunset glinting off of Ellen and I’s breastplates.

  “Aren’t there carrion wyrms this far out from Woodsedge?” Ellen asked, hands folded across the head of her maul as she leaned on it.

  “There are, but we’ll have to deal with them either way. The question is how much sleep you all want, because I’m waking you up at dawn no matter what.”

  “Then I say we stop for the night.” Ellen said, with Mika and Nora quickly voicing their support.

  “Carrion wyrms?” I asked after I agreed to stopping.

  “Nasty little things.” Mika said. “They usually fly around in a pack of twenty. Scavenging or killing whatever easy pickings they come across. They’re pretty smart, though. Disabuse them of the idea you’re easy meat and they’ll leave you alone.”

  Maggie raised an eyebrow at Mika.

  “They’re a pretty common problem for my family.” He shrugged. “They bother our hamlets and expeditions all the time.”

  “How are we doing guard shifts then if we’ve got to be alert for these things all the time?” I asked.

  “Whatever you decide, leave me out of it. I’m just the bard.” Maggie said as she left the huddle and went to unpack her stuff.

  “Two-hour shifts?” Nora asked.

  “Works for me.”

  Thirty minutes later and we had the campsite set up. Ellen, Mika, and Nora had all bought their tents from the same place. The same size and material, the three of them set up their shelters in a small huddle a little ways away from the fire pit. My tent was a dull brown the color of stomped grass, with the Guild’s insignia stamped on either side.

  Maggie’s tent was a step above all of ours. The outside looked normal, if fairly large. But I’d seen the inside briefly when she stepped out to join us for dinner. Myriad rugs and furs lined a richly appointed interior, and in the corner sat a small wood fire stove. It wasn’t my business how rich Maggie travelled, so I left it alone.

  Dinner was a brief affair of travel rations and day-old bread curtesy of Maggie. None of us spoke much aside from setting watches. A day of travel had us all tired and eager to sleep. Before I took guard, I went off to the side and ran through a couple of sets of my usual stretches.

  A couple minutes into my second set, Ellen left the fire where she had been chucking rocks into it with Mika and began her own stretches. Neither of us spoke a word to the other. When I finished and went to rejoin the others, Ellen gave me a slight nod and returned to her task.

  It wasn’t quite dark during my watch. The prairie sunset seemed to last forever. Rather than waste the other’s fire wood by adding new logs, I let it burn down to coals. Keeping it just alive enough that it’d be quick to reignite come Mika’s watch.

  ~~~***~~~

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  The rancid clang of pots echoed through the camp as Maggie skipped a merry dance around our dying campfire. Seated on a log, an annoyed and bleary-eyed Nora, still awake from her shift, rubbed the gunk from her eyes.

  We ate breakfast in silence, silent glares directed at Maggie the only conversation. Until Maggie herself broke it.

  “Mika, what was that sound last night? Should have been during your shift?”

  She sounded genuinely curious, but I recognized what she was doing. The [Paladins] asked similar questions growing up when they wanted to test us.

  I looked at Mika for the first time that morning and noticed that behind his log was a small patch of discolored yellow and brown grass.

  “It was probably me, unless someone else had something happen during their shift?” Mika asked, fatalistic hope in his voice.

  Everyone shook their heads or said no, and Mika took a moment to close his eyes and breath before he continued.

  “In that case, you heard the carrion wyrm I shot down last night.”

  “Don’t just leave it at that.” Ellen said lightly and punched Mika’s shoulder.

  “Three of them were circling camp, so I hit one with a Curse of Malise. Knocked it out of the sky. I’m pretty sure it broke its wing because it couldn’t get up again.” Mika spoke to the middle distance, his eyes somewhere far away.

  “Probably.” Maggie agreed. “They’ve got hollow bones. Helps them mitigate all their weight. But that still doesn’t account for all the noise I heard last night.”

  “Yeah… After a while of the thing trying and failing to get back into the sky. Its buddies swooped down and tore it apart.” Mika shuddered, gooseflesh prickling across his arms. “It was brutal. They held it down and tore the thing’s wings off. It was already screaming them, but when its buddies went for its guts; that’s when it really screamed.”

  As he spoke Mika curled in on himself, and Ellen reached over to rub comforting circles along his back. In that moment Mika seemed smaller than he already was and the patch of green and yellow in the grass behind him took on new meaning.

  “Gods dammit. They eat the wings or just leave them?” Maggie asked.

  “Just left them. You can probably still see them.” Mika said and pointed to a spot around a hundred feet back towards Woodsedge.

  It was hard to see, but I thought I saw a mangled pile of red and grey. Thin shreds of torn membrane drifted faintly through the breeze, but it was still a recognizable pair of draconic wings.

  Maggie spotted them too and sighed. Her hand coming up to rub at her eyes, suddenly tired.

  “Guess that means there’s an arch wyrm.”

  Ellen nodded her silent agreement, but Nora and Mika looked as confused as I was.

  “Arch wyrm?” I asked and decided I needed to buy a bestiary when we got to Dustreach.

  “They’re carrion wyrms who tier up enough to command a swarm on their own. You can always tell when one’s in the area because the local swarm develops all these little rituals to enforce swarm hierarchy. One of my mom’s lieutenants used to say it was a sign of an arch wyrm coming into their intelligence.”

  “How do you know the wings are part of a ritual, and not just the scraps?” Nora asked.

  “Because carrion wyrms never leave anything edible behind. If they can’t finish it on the spot, they’ll drag it back to their nests. The fact these didn’t tells me something’s made it clear they can’t.” Maggie answered. “If we’re lucky, the arch will be a matriarch instead of a patriarch.”

  “Why?”

  “Fewer hatchlings smart enough to become arch wyrms on their own if it’s a matriarch. The patriarchs are always far less discerning with fathering new broods.”

  Beasts who advanced always passed down some of their newfound power to their children. Draconic males, especially the spirit beasts, were so free it was a common insult amongst the Orders to call someone lost to their lusts draconic.

  ~~~***~~~

  By the time the hamlet of Hearthome came into view, it was our third day on the march. Yesterday had been as quiet as the first two. Our only excitement came when a [Farmer] on his way to Woodsedge sold us some cider. Maggie bartered for three of his casks for a gold and five silvers.

  I’d also seen a pack of coyotes lingering around camp, but all it took was some fire on a stick and making myself look big to scare them off.

  To say that Hearthome was well defended was an understatement. A ten-foot-tall stone wall towered over the top of the outer unmanned palisade. Between the two walls were three six-foot-deep ditches crossed by removable wooden bridges.

  The iron portcullis that blocked entrance into the hamlet was already raised, and all it took to get us past the lightly armored guards was to flash our Adventurer’s Guild badges. The sight of our gleaming bronze badges, and Maggie’s golden badge, snapped the guards out of their boredom and the small of the pair waved us on through.

  “Alright, first thing I’ve got for y’all is a lead on a beast hunt issued to the Guild by the local [Innkeeper]. Nora, you’re the face, so I want you to take the lead.” Maggie said, to which Nora easily agreed.

  Even past the gate, I could not stop looking at the walls. Rune-engraved and taller than any wall I’d seen besides Woodsedge. Atop them was a walkway big enough to drive a wagon along if you were careful, and off in the distance I could see a pair of [Guards] doing laps around the hamlet.

  No where in the forest would you see close to the level of fortifications in this hamlet. The natural terrain and the formations we set up within were our only static defenses. In comparison, I felt like I was stuck in a small open topped stone box.

  “Is this common in Teles?” I asked, waving a hand at all the defenses.

  “Pretty much.” Ellen answered, lost in a memory of her own as she surveyed the village. “We’re tiny compared to our neighbors, so we’ve always staved off invasion by fortifying the Hells out of our cities. Eventually, that attitude just kind of trickled down to the smaller communities. Even the slums in the capital have makeshift walls built by the people.”

  “It’s important enough that noble women spend five years in the Royal Corps of Engineers and take [Teles Siege Engineer] as their first class.” Nora said, nationalistic pride suffused her words.

  “You’re a noble, right Ellen? Did you train with the engineers as well?” I asked.

  “Nah, can’t. They don’t allow bastards in the corps. Taints their dignity.” Ellen said with just a hint of bitterness.

  “Ah.”

  ~~~***~~~

  The inn was large for the surrounding buildings. A single story of hewn stone, with a small wooden stable across the packed earth street connected by a brightly patterned awning. Like a monument, the hearth’s smoke stack rose a full story above the roof of the building. The bricks whitewashed to match the stone.

  The sign was an over flowing mug of ale, painted white, and hung from a broom stick above the front door. Painted swirls of color danced around the entrance and continued into the interior. Where they swirled in a chaotic waltz across the common room until all the lines met at a central point behind the bar.

  As we walked through the well-maintained inn, I noticed along the bottom of the walls were a child’s paintings in the same colors as the swirls. About half way through the room, we passed a painting of three stick figures. A child in the middle and what looked like the inn off to the side. Above each figure were the words ‘Mommy’, ‘Daddy’, and ‘Me’ in a child’s shaky hand.

  The [Innkeeper] was a fat man of average height with thin arms and a sparse, if well kempt beard. He had his head buried in a book at the end of the bar when we entered. But when the bell above the door let out a small chime, he looked up from his book with a smile.

  When he saw us, Ellen and I in our armor, and all five carrying large packs, the expression of someone about to make their own day lit up across his face.

  “Emell!” He called, his voice warm and kind.

  A little girl, around ten years old, rushed into the common room from the back. She had the same dirty blond hair as her father. Her round cheeks still had all her baby fat. She lit up when she saw us and squealed. She rushed forward with all her speed for about ten steps before her father called her back. Behind the bar, her father lifted her to stand on his now vacated stool.

  Emell adopted her best [Innkeeper] pose. Hands resting on her stomach like I imagined she’d seen her father do a thousand times. She did well to contain her excitement, but she practically vibrated by the time we got up to the bar.

  “Are you adventurers?” Emell asked, eyes wide as she drank in our armor and gear.

  “We are.” Nora said and adopted that tone people so often took with children. “We heard you had a quest for us.”

  Emell let out an involuntary squeal of excitement before she schooled her features into a frown I imagined one of her parents wore frequently.

  “That we do.” She said, voice pitched down an octave. The object of her imitation no longer in question. “There’s a mighty beast north of town! A terrible thing called a…” Emell trailed off and looked at her dad, who mouthed something back behind his hand.

  “A dread musk!” Emell announced.

  “Dead tusk sweety.” Her dad corrected with a smile.

  “Yeah! A dead tusk!”

  I smiled as I watched the pair go back and forth. Not only was Emell’s excitement contagious, but watching her dad teach her the tools of his trade had me thinking of Helena. Of what it’d be like to guide her along a path. To foster her passions. Whatever they may be.

  “I see.” Nora said solemnly as she tried to hide the smile that threatened to bloom across her features. “Can you share any wisdom about this terrible beast?”

  “Aye!” Emell called and slapped her hands down on the bar. She leant forward across the bar to look up at us through her eyebrows. “The beast is the size of a warhorse, its tusks larger than any man.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Maggie look to the [Innkeeper] who shook his head and held his hands a foot apart from one another behind his daughter’s head.

  “I’ll pay any adventurer who can bring me the beast’s head a hundred gold!” Emell announced, the herald of her own divine proclamation.

  My smile spread wider as I watched her father hold up two fingers behind his daughter’s head, letting us know the real reward. Nora must have noticed the correction to because she didn’t baulk at the ridiculous reward.

  “I see. A mighty beast indeed.” Nora said, as serious as the grave. “Is there anyone who might lead us to this creature’s foul lair?”

  “There is.” Emell said with equal solemnity, submersed completely in her role as the [Innkeeper]. “By the gate lives a stinky witch-“

  “Emell.” Her dad cut in. “That’s no way to talk about your aunt.”

  “Fine…” Emell said with a look that said she disagreed. “You’ll find a [Huntress] who can take you to the foul monster’s lair!”

  “Thank you. You have my word as an adventurer. We’ll return with the beast slain.” Nora said as she put her hand out for Emell to shake.

  I couldn’t help but notice how proud her father looked as Emell gave Nora a mighty hand shake; along with Ellen and Mika, who stepped up to shake hands with our quest giver. Though I noticed that as she stepped away, Ellen looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  When I stepped up to the bar, I could tell the exact moment Emell noticed the color of my eyes. I stood there for a moment and allowed her to stare, more than used to this reaction by now. I put on a friendly smile and stuck out my hand.

  “Bran. Nice to meet you, Emell.”

  Her eyes widened further at the sound of my voice, but she put out her hand and gave mine a firm shake. She did her best to squeeze when her fingers barely crested the sides of my palm.

  “You’ll be a fine [Innkeeper] someday.” I said.

  “I’m not going to be an [Innkeeper]!” Emell pronounced, not letting go of my hand.

  “Oh?”

  “I’m going to be an adventurer!”

  I chuckled at that and gave her hand a final shake before I broke away.

  “Then I’m sure you’ll be the best adventurer to ever live.”