(Two new banners at the top of the stite by Raoul Corella! The inn in spring and winter! Look out for them here and here! Or refresh the page a few times. Big thanks to him!)

It was a love story for the ages. A young [Lord] and [Lady], specifically, Lord Bein of the Terland family, and Lady Dealia of the minor house of the Zolde nobility. A scandalous matchup perhaps, but one that was sanctioned through love and touched the hearts of everyone with the sophistication to appreciate such modern-day romances that defied social convention.

If you lacked the sophistication to really appreciate the nuance of that event, or didn’t keep up with the trends of nobility in Izril, well, it was one of the topics of discussion in certain circles.

The average layperson…might not know about the pairing, but then again, people liked to keep track of such things, like those who obsessively followed marriages and courtly dramas in Terandrian monarchies.

Like—for instance, war brewing between Ailendamus and other nations was actually overshadowed in the circles of gossip by scandalous cheating in bedrooms, or frivolous details. For instance, have you heard that the 6th Princess of Calanfer had refused every single suitor, except for partaking in the most removed of dances? It was speculated that she had a serious suitor, or else…some kind of disease.

Either or. But the point was that such pairings among the nobility were important. They had to be, otherwise what was the point?

Anyways, Lord Bein and Lady Dealia. Scandalous, yes. Because Lord Bein was a member of the Terland family, one of the Five Families of Izril, and thus one of the most powerful nobility in the world. He wasn’t…from the main branch of the family or anything, but even so, they had standards. And Lady Dealia was a member of the Zolde nobility, who had come to Izril just a moment ago—two hundred years back, fleeing unrest in Chandrar.

They were thus, still, ‘Chandrarian’ to many of the nobility. And marrying into their family was something that a wealthy person, or perhaps an adventurer or someone else might do. Or some of the other minor nobles, yes, but a member of the Five Families?

Ah, but it was love. A love story! Like that haute new thing, ‘plays’, sweeping through Invrisil? Have you seen…?

Love indeed. Lord Bein had been head over heels with Lady Dealia and the courtship had occupied the minds of those who spent time dwelling on such things. Of course, her family was delighted by the suggestion and Lord Bein had won over his parents after some wrangling. It had been his mother who’d really disliked the concept, but once Lord Bein had persuaded his father, the good Lord Sheldae Terland, to support the marriage, the engagement had been on.

Love triumphed over social class, that was the lesson here. A young [Lord] of the Five Families could marry a…lesser [Lady] from Chandrar two hundred years back. Believe in love.

Although…it didn’t hurt that Lady Dealia was one of the most beautiful [Ladies] in all of Izril. Blessed by birth, or perhaps Skills, she occupied the list of the top ten [Ladies] to marry, (and yes, there were lists). In fact, she’d been ranked fourth, right below Lady Wuvren. The famous Wuvren had held her position on that list since she’d turned sixteen, for the last fifty years or so.

All this to say that love—and perhaps being extremely attractive—had made Lord Bein leap for the engagement and true love. The engagement had in fact, been going forwards. Albeit with some sabotage by his mother, wrangling by both families—but no more than usual.

It was scheduled next month, and it was certainly going to be a large wedding; the nobility loved good weddings and many would turn up, which would probably begin more romances, intrigues, and so on.

Well and good, well and good. Love, marriage—it would have been perfect, but for one thing. And that thing would be—Lady Hetessana Wellfar.

“You pig! You faithless dog!”

Lord Bein Terland fled the private bedroom of Lady Hetessana Wellfar, one of the most eligible [Dowagers] in all of Izril as she pursued him. Half-naked, and fully in fury. The widowed Hetessana was of the Wellfar family, another of the Five Families of Izril.

Where the Terlands were known mainly for their trade in magical artifacts and having fallen on hard times since their days of glory, the Wellfar family had kept their gold and husbanded it, in husbands, but also the far more practical buisiness of ships and trade. Lady Hetessana had been married to one of the [Ship Lords], and she had inherited a lot of wealth from her husband upon his untimely death at sea.

She had genuinely mourned him, too, and had been known as a [Lady] first mourning the loss of her husband—and then grieving her loneliness. She was in her late fifties, and had not benefitted from Skills that made Lady Wuvren so…eye-catching.

“I can explain!”

“You told me it was an accident! How dare you!”

The older [Lady] shouted as she pursued Lord Bein. Servants poked their heads out as they saw the two nobles quarrelling—and immediately decided they had seen or heard nothing. Both were in a state of undress.

The…relationship between Lady Hetessana and Lord Bein wasn’t well-known by anyone. But Lord Bein had, in fact, prior to falling for Lady Dealia, been seeing the older Lady of the Wellfar family. For about two years, actually. And benefitting from the relationship in more ways than just the purity of romance.

“I gave you everything! Gold, favors—we were to be married at the end of the year and you—you only loved me for my wealth? Is that it?”

Lady Hetessana’s face was a mask of grief. Because she had loved the young [Lord] who had courted her in secret. She had assumed it had been a love story, right up until this moment. The older [Lady] did not keep up with gossip, and the engagement had caught her off-guard.

“Hetessana, I can explain—”

Lord Bein ducked a shoe. He had indeed tried to explain. But he’d clearly failed. Lady Hetessana looked at him.

“You were seduced? In that case—call off the engagement!”

The younger man spread his hands, turning red.

“One can’t just call off an engagement, Hetessana. My hand was forced. I tried to talk my father out of it—”

“Liar!”

This time a pot flew and Lord Bein ducked it. He wasn’t quite sure why his carefully-crafted explanations were failing, but perhaps he hadn’t ever run into a situation up till now that had required actual subterfuge. Or the kind of consequences he couldn’t walk away from.

“You scoundrel.”

Lady Hetessana sagged as one of her [Handmaids] came out to support her. She was grey in the face, with shock and pain, but she looked at the half-clothed Lord Bein with a kind of grim determination. She pointed and he flinched, but she threw only words now.

“You will pay. For lying to me. And to your young [Lady]. Does she know about us?”

“Hetessana—”

“She doesn’t, does she? Or that you promised to marry me?”

Lord Bein’s eyes flickered. Hetessana laughed.

“She’ll know. Everyone will know! I’ll shout it from the rooftops if I must!”

Her reputation be damned. Lord Bein paled at the implications. Not only might the engagement be called off, this might have consequences in his own family.

“Hetessana, please, let me explain!”

“You’ve lost the right to call me that. Begone from my presence! And you had better pray that the Zolde household doesn’t answer insult with blades! They’re Chandrarian, you know.”

The older [Lady] shook her head. She was turning away. Lord Bein looked at her, and his temper flared.

“Say what you will! I’ll deny everything! This was nothing more than a—a mistake! And I promised you nothing in truth!”

The [Lady] of the Wellfar family flinched. But the love she had felt and he…had pretended had turned to enmity in a moment. She turned her head.

“You shallow, snake of a boy. I’ll swear it on truth spell before anyone who asks!”

But it would be her word against his. Lord Bein laughed. Lady Hetessana colored with fury.

This could not be allowed to stand. But it might not halt an engagement. Not if it were words; after all, the affair had been conducted on her lands, and only her servants could attest to the relationship. How might she tell the truth? How might…?

And then she had it. Quick as could be, Hetessana hurried into the mansion. Lord Bein stared at her, confused, as he tried to pull out a change of clothes out of his bag of holding and put them on. He only saw the [Lady] return after a few minutes. And when she did—

She was holding a pendant. Lord Bein paled.

“Perhaps Lady Dealia will believe this!”

She shook the pendant that should have been around Lord Bein’s neck at the young [Lord]. He felt at the spot where it had been—but of course, he’d taken it off!

It was one of the Terland’s artifacts, passed down through their family. Not relic-class, but one of the priceless amulets that conveyed a number of magical effects. In this case, they grew in strength the more of the amulets there were, but even this one could help thwart an assassination attempt. Lord Bein really shouldn’t have taken it off, but it chafed.

“Lady Hetessana, give that back!”

She stared at him, triumphant at the sudden fear on his face, and anger. And still—heartbroken, because half an hour ago, she had loved him. But this was a real love story.

“I shall not. And the world will know of your infidelity!”

She whirled. Lord Bein made a strangled noise and ran at her. But Hetessana’s [Servants] appeared, blocking him. They dared not do more, and suffered the young [Lord]’s clumsy blows and swearing as he tried to push past them. He was, after all, despite everything, a member of the Terland family.

But Lord Bein was also aware of Hetessana’s power. So he didn’t draw the sword he owned and hack at them, and he couldn’t fight his way past the press of bodies. In the end, after trying to rush left or right past the line of servants, he gave up. Panting, he shouted at Hetessana’s back.

“You’ll never deliver it, Hetessana! I swear!”

He raced off, looking for his horse. Lady Hetessana stared at him as he ran off, and then handed the pendant to one of her handmaidens. Then she sank into her bed and wept.

Perhaps, if she had been faster, the servants might have beaten Lord Bein to his estates. But Lady Hetessana took time for her grief. To her cost.

The first [Thief] came like…a thief in the night. He was intercepted by her guards, but the second and third came within just as many days.

Lord Bein had hired [Thieves] to steal back his pendant, and the proof of their relationship. Faced with that, and knowing that her security couldn’t withstand a high-level attempt for long, Lady Hetessana made a quick decision. She made a public announcement about her relationship with Lord Bein and shattered the illusion of love across Izril’s social gossip circles.

The Terland family instantly denied the allegations. Lord Bein stridently claimed it was Hetessana’s madness and grief and that he had only shown the [Dowager] a short kindness and a relationship that had gone nowhere. Lady Hetessana swore she had proof.

The pendant. It had to go to Lady Dealia, who was obviously troubled by the claims but stood by the man she loved, or Bein’s family. Dealia preferably; the Terlands were standing with Lord Bein and might hush up the truth, even if it was delivered to them.

But Lady Hetessana feared theft or ambush along the long distance north and east, towards the Zolde households. Lord Bein had, through Izril’s underworld, put out a bounty on that pendant. Anyone delivering it, even one of Hetessana’s servants, might be targeted by [Bandits] or anyone seeking the bounty. And it was a hefty price. So, Lady Hetessana sent a [Message] for someone who could deliver the pendant at speed, and without delay or interception.

She sent for a Courier. That had been one day ago.

—-

The [Raiders] saw their mark coming down the road. He was a Courier.

Lacel the Leaper. Not the best of names, but he was a Courier. And he bore Lady Hetessana’s pendant. The [Raiders] were well aware of all this. And they were prepared to cash in on the ten thousand gold coin bounty Lord Bein had put on the pendant.

Unofficially. No Adventurer’s Guild or any other official guild had posted the bounty. But there were unofficial channels for Izril’s underworld, and they had spread words about the bounty to everyone.

“Halt!”

The [Raid Leader] was a rough woman used to doing what it took to survive. She’d been banned from over a dozen cities and three times that many towns and villages, but she was tired of life living in fear of the law. This was her and her gang’s big break.

She fired a crossbow as her group burst from their cover along the tall brush they’d been hiding in and charged down towards the trade road Lacel was running down.

The Courier was running fast, nearly as fast as a horse, but he had more endurance Skills than mobility. He jerked and stared up as the [Bandits] raced at him, firing weak spells from wands and shooting arrows.

“Dead gods!”

Some of the travellers on the road panicked at the sight of the [Raiders]. They weren’t expected, not so close to Invrisil! But the [Raiders] were only focusing on Lacel. He instantly blurred and turned into six different figures who all went racing in different directions.

“He’s using a damn illusion! Split up and get him!”

The [Raid Leader] swore and turned her mount, pursuing the one racing for Invrisil’s gates, several miles distant. She blew past a frightened family on the road as the eighteen-some [Raiders] raced past her.

A caravan, a family riding a covered wagon, hid as the [Raiders] streamed past them. A [Trader] with a bag of holding and a pack mule dove for cover, grabbing at his emergency wand, prepared to fight only in self-defense. A group of young people riding a wagon surrounded by hired [Mercenaries] alternatively panicked and stared at the spectacle as the [Guards] swore and closed ranks, more aware of the danger.

“Halt or we’ll cut you down, Courier!”

The [Raid Leader] had seen through Lacel’s illusion. Her gang was pursuing the other five illusions, but who would run away from the safety of Invrisil’s walls? She reloaded her crossbow as she swung her mace out of its holster. Either one would do for the Courier.

Lacel the Leaper looked back at the [Raid Leader] and swore. He was a lanky fellow, with long legs. As the [Raid Leader] closed on him, he ran left, desperately, passing by a bluff of stone rocks leading uphill. The [Raid Leader] swore and angled towards him. But he was too far from the stones! She lifted her mace as she aimed—

And Lacel jumped.

Straight up, into the air. And gravity forgot Lacel existed for a second. The [Raid Leader] stared up, open-mouthed, as the Courier flew.

Ten feet. Then twenty. Thirty—and his back arced as he landed on the top of the hill. The gang stared. Lacel looked around wildly, and then he leapt again. He flew, and the [Raid Leader] turned her horse.

“Get him! He’s only good at jumping! Get him and—”

She ducked as the Courier threw something at her. An explosion; he was throwing damn Alchemist’s Fire! She swore, but her [Raiders] were tasting blood. They raced after him, shooting arrows that swerved as they neared the Courier. And he was jumping, throwing exploding flasks.

It was a running battle and the people on the road hid as the [Raiders] tried to bring down the Courier. But he was a Courier. And not only could he run almost as fast as the horses they rode, he was armed.

And he jumped high. Still, he was making for Invrisil at best speed rather than trying to wipe the [Raiders] out like another Courier might. And as the fighting entered the second minute, the [Raiders] racing after Lacel, the terrified family in the covered wagon was huddled together. And from the back, a figure poked his head out.

Three figures, actually. A yawning Stitch-Woman adjusted the stitches around her neck. A slumbering old [Mage] was still waking up, rather disoriented. The Stitch-Woman, who had a wand in one hand, nodded at the [Raiders] racing past them.

“What’s the word, Halrac? Summons?”

“No. Cover me.”

The voice came from inside the wagon. And the man, the [Veteran Scout], a scruffy, yet-to-be-shaved beard on his face, and an expression that suggested that smiling was a foreign idea to him, pushed out of the wagon’s interior.

The family stared at him. Because the man wasn’t armed. He carried no weapons.

Or rather—it looked like he was carrying nothing. But—why was he holding his hand like that? As if he was pretending to aim a bow. But it was realistic. And he did have a quiver.

One of the two young boys in the family stared as the grim man plucked an arrow from the quiver. He was still…holding nothing but air. But then he did something and the arrow vanished.

The young boy gaped. He saw the [Scout], the Gold-Rank adventurer pause. And then—the shimmering patch of air shifted. The invisible bow and the now-invisible arrow moved.

Tft. The family stared ahead. They saw the galloping [Raiders] rushing forwards. And then—up ahead—the [Raid Leader] fell out of her saddle. Lacel the Leaper stared. He stared at the now-visible arrow buried in the back of her head. Halrac grunted. He drew another arrow, sighted, loosed.

A second [Raider] fell. The gang shouted in panic, staring at Lacel. They thought the arrows were coming from the Courier. They only realized they were being assaulted from behind after two more arrows sent their riders tumbling out of the saddles, screaming.

“I think they saw us.”

“Hm? Are we under attack?”

Typhenous was still waking up. The old [Mage] had white hair and a beard, but he moved surprisingly quickly for someone his age. The two boys in the family’s wagon stared as Typhenous unsheathed a wicked dagger as he lifted his staff.

“You missed it, old man. We’re attacking them. They’re looking this way, Halrac.”

Revi warned the leader of Griffon Hunt. Halrac shrugged.

“What do they see?”

He paused as he lowered his bow. From afar he looked unarmed. And the [Raiders] indeed looked straight past him—until he raised his bow and shot another through the nose. As in—straight through the bridge of the nose and the rest of the woman’s head.

“Ah! Dead gods, Halrac!”

Revi recoiled from the sight. The [Raiders] stared as Halrac aimed again.

“Cover me if they charge, Revi. Typhenous, shields up.”

“Is this an attack? I missed the beginning. [Force Wall]. Just below your chin, Halrac.”

“Got it.”

The shimmering barrier appeared as Typhenous cast his spell. The [Raiders] were debating charging or fleeing the threat. But Halrac kept loosing arrows.

Some of them charged. The rest fled. But their arrows and spells hit the [Force Wall]. The barrier was mostly invisible as well, and did indeed cover the entire frightened family in the wagon and Halrac—just up to his chin. He shot over the magical barrier. Revi lifted her wand—but never cast a single spell.

The [Raiders] died on that busy road. The horses, terrified, galloped around until they were captured. And the patrol of Invrisil’s Watch arrived too late.

They’d arrived quickly. Fifteen minutes and they were out on the trade road in force. But they just found the dead [Raiders], a bunch of lined-up horses being shepherded together by glowing, summoned warriors.

And Griffon Hunt. Lacel the Leaper had run on without so much as pausing. But the Gold-rank adventurers were taking their dues.

Applause. And the [Raider]’s horses and gear. Halrac paused in prying the [Raid Leader]’s mace out of her stiff hands as the [Sergeant] on horseback waved at him.

“Excuse me! Are you an adventurer?”

“That’s right. Halrac…Captain of Griffon Hunt.”

The [Scout] paused a second as he gave his title. The [Sergeant] relaxed.

“Well then, you’ve done us a favor. Thank you, sir. Did you see what those [Bandits] were after?”

“Not [Bandits], [Raiders].”

Typhenous corrected the [Sergeant]. He casually yanked a gold tooth out of an open mouth. The [Guards] winced. So did Revi, who was helping.

“Typhenous!”

“It’s gold, Revi. Be a dear and help me with the bag of holding? [Raiders], indeed. You can tell by their armor and style. Bandits operate from a base. [Raiders] are hit-and-run—aha. Another tooth. Silver. Revi, stop fidgeting.”

The [Sergeant] stared as Typhenous bent over the corpse. But that was adventurers for you. He cleared his throat and noticed Revi’s summoned warriors herding the horses together.

“Adventurer Halrac, er, can I assume your team is claiming salvage rights on the [Raiders]?”

“That’s right. We can dispose of the bodies as well.”

“Ah, well then.”

The Watch brightened a bit. So did the [Sergeant].

This was protocol. It might have been alien to the travellers staring as the Gold-rank adventurers, er…looted the dead, but the Watch and the adventurers were used to it.

Salvage rights for the criminal’s possessions. Griffon Hunt was entitled to it, but that meant also disposing of corpses, or paying the Watch for a fee. If you just looted the bodies and left them to rot, well, you could be fined for it. You could get away with that around Celum, maybe.

But this was Invrisil. There were rules, for adventurers and the Watch. And in accordance with the rules, Halrac paused from collecting items he could sell and let the [Sergeant] take down his team’s name.

“It’s Griffon Hunt with a ‘o’. Griffon. As in, the dog. G-r-i-f-f-o-n.”

“Ah, I see. Let me just—Halrac Everam?”

“Yes. Our team used to be led by Ulrien—the records might not have changed.”

“Thank you, sir. Oh. I mean—I’m sorry, if it was a loss—”

“It was.”

Halrac folded his arms, waiting. Flustered, the [Sergeant] recorded the details. Then he thanked Halrac again, went to reassure everyone that everything was under control, and left. Halrac watched him go. Then he sighed and went back to the [Raiders]. There was a nice bit of chainmail on the [Raid Leader] and, unsavory as it was, it would fetch a good price.

Griffon Hunt couldn’t afford to turn down free money. So, tedious as it was, and as much as he’d like to get to Invrisil, Halrac began to strip the dead woman. He’d been on the road a long time, and delayed from reaching Invrisil for ages. He hoped that the magic door was working there, but he hadn’t heard a rumor about that yet. And you would hear rumors if The Wandering Inn reached Invrisil.

It hadn’t been a productive month, by and large. And Halrac was in a bad mood.

But then—what was new?

—-

“I think that’s everything. I’ve got all the bodies lined up. How’re we doing this? Burning? Acid? Valmira’s Comet?”

About twenty minutes later, Revi dusted her palms as she turned to the three-person team that was Griffon Hunt. She was looking at Halrac, their leader, but it was Typhenous who replied.

“Unless you’d like to scatter body parts across a hundred feet, Revi, I think fire will do. Halrac?”

“Do it. Revi, why is that family waiting?”

Halrac gestured at the wagon that they’d been hitching a ride on. Revi squinted.

“I…think they’re waiting for us to come with them?”

“We have the [Raider]’s horses. We’ll ride them to Invrisil. Find a [Hostler]. Let them know.”

“Yes, boss. I’ll endure them thanking you and being grateful so you don’t have to.”

Revi mock-saluted Halrac as she ambled over to the wagon and anxious family. Halrac scowled at her back. Typhenous chuckled. He aimed his staff at the bodies—already beginning to smell a tiny bit in the heat—and shot flames from his staff.

Cremation. Halrac watched impassively. His nose stung with the smoke and smell, but Typhenous didn’t bat an eyelash. Halrac’s face was locked in a scowl as he saw travellers moving past. Some called out, asking what had happened, but the Gold-rank adventurer didn’t respond.

He was in a foul mood. Not from the [Raiders]. But he’d been scowling the last…week. And yes, Halrac, sometimes known as ‘Halrac the Grim’ for that very feature, usually didn’t smile. But his team had learned to tell apart the varying levels of dissatisfaction or non-emotion contained on his face.

“They’re off. And they’d love to thank you in person, Halrac. What with you being a hero to the little boys and everything. But I told them that a big, important adventurer didn’t have time to spend on goodbyes.”

Revi came back. If Halrac’s default mode was dour, hers was probably nettling people. Halrac turned his glare on her.

“If you said that, Revi—”

He almost started back towards the wagon, which was indeed turning back onto the road. Revi threw up her hands.

“I didn’t! It was a joke! Calm down, Halrac.”

The surly adventurer glared at her, but relaxed.

“Don’t lie, then.”

“Don’t take your bad mood out on me. Pshaw! It stinks! Hold on, I’m taking my nose off.”

Revi gagged at the smell. She reached up and began to undo the tiny, invisible stitches on her nose. She pulled off her nose, revealing just blank skin underneath. Halrac and Typhenous ignored her as the bodies burned nicely. They were used to it.

“Give me five minutes and they should be fit to douse with water. Revi, my dear—”

“Don’t call me that, old man. I’ll get you the nicest horse.”

“You know me too well.”

Revi rolled her eyes as she whistled. The glowing apparitions herded the nervous horses closer. Typhenous, still projecting flames from his staff, eyed them.

“Decent horseflesh. I think we could get a good price for some of them. If we don’t keep them.”

“I’d like a horse. That one’s beautiful.”

“Mm. Bad lines, Revi. But indeed, a lovely coat.”

Typhenous studied the horses with a practiced eye. Revi deffered to him with a sigh.

“There’s a nice saddle on that one. You want? And can I ride the lovely one?”

“If we’re not in a hurry, by all means.”

“That’s mine, then. Halrac, you want a horse?”

“I. Don’t. Care. Let’s just get them moving. And we’re selling all but three at the nearest stables.”

Revi and Typhenous exchanged a glance. Their smiles faltered. Silently, they found their horses. By the time Typhenous extinguished the fire with a jet of water, the corpses were mostly destroyed by the fire. The horses were herded by the summons, who ran behind the three adventurers as they travelled down the road.

Towards Invrisil, the City of Adventurers. It was their destination that they’d been heading to for about two weeks. They’d made a detour, taken well over a month to head east first—but now they were on the way.

It had been…wasted time. Time badly spent. And for adventurers, that was a problem.

Time was money. Also, money was money. Artifacts were money. Levels were money. In the end, they really just wanted money. Money, and fame, and levels, and power. That was why adventurers existed. Some lived for the glory of it, or the thrill, or even…because it was necessary and right to fight against monsters. But to most, it was a career choice.

This was Griffon Hunt’s perspective. They weren’t a rag-tag group of unlikely souls, like the Horns of Hammerad, united despite disparate motives. Nor were they the easy-going group of friends and outcasts like the Halfseekers. And they were certainly not altruistic heroes like the Silver Swords.

They were a team of co-workers who adventured for a living. And they had lost their leader, Ulrien. In Liscor, in a fight in an inn against a Named Adventurer who’d turned out to be a murderer, Regrika Blackpaw. They had lost him, and yet, they had also come away with a windfall from the dungeon.

A magical bow, the one Halrac now used. Treasure. Gold, and artifacts, ready to be sold! An adventurer’s dream.

And yet. Griffon Hunt could be said to be down on its luck. Even now. Like the Halfseekers, Griffon Hunt had been larger, once. And if they hadn’t been one of the top Gold-rank teams, somewhat famous north and south of Izril like the Halfseekers had been—they had been larger. Three times as large, almost. Respected for being one of the hunting teams who fought Griffins with…Griffons. Hunting dogs.

Now—they were this. They rode in silence. Halrac in a foul mood, and Revi and Typhenous knew why. Moreover—the two [Mages] exchanged glances. It was Revi, the [Summoner], whose magical apparitions were helping guide the rest of the horses, who brought it up.

“Um. Captain.”

Halrac turned his head.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Yes, boss. Leader. Uh—”

“Commander Everam.”

“Good one, Typh.”

Halrac just glared. Revi went on after a moment.

“Look, I’m sorry about Elm. But…do you want to talk about it or something? I mean, what do we do?”

She and Typhenous looked at each other again. And there it was.

A bit of distance. Because they weren’t exactly the oldest of pals. Revi and Typhenous were new to Griffon Hunt. Two years old, teammates, but not like Ulrien had been, a fellow [Soldier] Halrac had served with.

Or even the rest of Griffon Hunt. They were new. And they’d stuck with the team after half of its members had upped and quit. After a disaster with Griffins.

Griffon Hunt was still remembered in parts of the north for the plague they’d unleashed to combat a huge influx of migrating Griffins. It had stopped the rampaging Griffins, but the plague had spread and killed…a lot of people.

Their reputation had been tarnished, and the group had nearly disbanded. Four had kept working, including Revi and Typhenous, the newest [Mages] who had been blamed for the incident, Typhenous especially. They had gone south seeking a fortune, a new break.

Three now rode north. And only one was of the old guard, the originals. More still lived. Like Elm, one of the original founders of the team. But he…hadn’t taken meeting his former comrades well.

About a week ago, they’d met Elm. One of the old members of Griffon Hunt who’d left after the plague incident. They’d met him, though, to re-establish their bonds, make amends as Halrac put it.

It had not been a good meeting. There might have been—tension. Perhaps a bit of enmity. In fact, there might have been a fight. That involved Halrac putting Elm, the [Ranger], through a door. Headfirst.

“Hey, at least he didn’t want any of the gold we offered him. That’s something, right? We’re six thousand gold up. And we didn’t even pay for the door.”

Halrac glared. Revi hesitated.

“So…look, I know it was bad. But he said his thing, we said ours. He’s quits. What do we do, Halrac?”

The [Scout] had a way with looks. But as his new role as team captain, he couldn’t get by on glares alone. He replied slowly, his hands clenched on the reins.

“Elm’s not joining us. If he wants the gold, he can get it. We owe that to the old team. And we keep reaching out. Briganda’s meeting us at Invrisil.”

“Right. But if we get into a fight with her—maybe don’t fight with your fists? She’s a [Shield Maiden].”

“I started nothing. Elm was the one who—”

Halrac glanced at Typhenous. The white-haired [Mage] lowered his head slightly, a nod at Halrac. Revi glanced between the two. Tensions had been strained. In the past, and recently.

“Right, right. He deserved it. All I’m saying is—don’t do that with Briganda. Because she could probably trash all three of us in a fight. And if she says no?”

“We reach out to Cassielle. And then we’re done.”

The last member of the original team. Revi nodded.

“Cool. Yeah. Where is he?”

“Terandria.”

“Riiiiiight…are we going to visit him? Because if we are—”

“He hasn’t sent a [Message] back. But we’ll contact him. We’re making things right. Even if they don’t want it. Any problems?”

“None. No, I agreed. I mean, it’s our treasure from Liscor. Which we fought for. And you know, nearly died for. But hey, let’s give it back.”

Revi grumped. But she subsided after a bit. It was—well, it was just like this. In silence, the three adventurers rode on. And the best word for them was…decent. Good. Competent, well-practiced, a team that could wipe out low-level [Raiders] and handle threats most Silver-rank teams couldn’t.

But understaffed. Still, Revi was in this team down to her threads. And she’d keep this team together if she had to be the anchor, damn it. This was a good team!

“So—[Raiders], huh? That was Lacel the Leaper, you know?”

“Hrgh.”

Halrac might have been responding there. Typhenous on the other hand stroked his beard.

“Ah. Was it? Then we might have interfered with Izrilian drama in the making.”

He winked at Revi. The [Summoner] was nodding, a pleased look on her face. Silence, then. After a second, Halrac turned his head.

“…What drama?”

“You haven’t heard about Lady Hetessana and Lord Bein? And Lady Dealia? Halrac!”

Revi was shocked. The [Scout] just stared at her.

“What does that have to do with a Courier and…”

He paused.

“Oh. Some kind of drama?”

Revi had to recount the tale of sordid betrayal for Halrac.

“Of course, they don’t know she’s telling the truth, but I heard that she hired a Courier to take the pendant! And if that was him—her estates are some of the most southern. So…”

“So?”

Typhenous chuckled.

“So, Lady Dealia may be receiving a package, Halrac. And if it is the pendant, she will be able to appraise it very quickly. And Lord Bein will be in a lot of trouble.”

Revi grinned happily.

“I hear that Lady Dealia’s promised to call off the engagement if it’s true. And her brothers have sworn to stab Lord Bein through the heart if it is. I can’t wait. And I’m happy I can be part of it. Makes me feel warm inside.”

She poked at her chest for emphasis. Halrac just looked at her, nonplussed.

“Why are you so interested in gossip about the nobility, Revi?”

The Stitch-Girl shrugged.

“Eh. I just really like hearing about the stupid stuff they get up to. Keeps me entertained.”

“And I keep my ear to all sources of information, Halrac. Speaking of which—while I haven’t heard of a magic door in Invrisil, I think there is at least one familiar thing in the City of Adventurers for us.”

“And that would be?”

Halrac eyed Typhenous, and then turned forwards. And there was the City of Adventurers.

Vast, sprawling, guarded by low, ten-foot walls that seemed to be expanding with each passing year, the City of Adventurers was a metropolis, one of the largest cities in the continent, like First Landing in the north. But Invrisil was a hub which connected the heart of the Human’s northern lands.

It was also owned, at least in part, by Magnolia Reinhart. And it was generally safe—from war or [Raiders], or at least, more so than other lands. The Goblin Lord and the [Raiders] of this morning being notable exceptions.

One of the many gates to the city had a queue in front of it. Revi exclaimed as the horses snorted, catching unfamiliar scents. Invrisil was vast, too vast to take in all at once.

“Aha! Culture! I can’t wait to sleep in an actual bed for once!”

“What’s in Invrisil, Typhenous?”

Even Halrac had to relax upon seeing the city, with its abundance of things to see or do. But he eyed Typhenous. The [Plague Mage] raised a soothing hand.

“I wouldn’t want to say until I’m sure. Rumors are rumors…and there was a group of imposters…”

“Impostor what? I don’t want any more surprises, Typhenous.”

Not after the door incident. Halrac’s tone was warning, but Typhenous just stroked his beard.

“Nothing untoward, I promise, glorious Captain.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“As you wish, Sir.”

Halrac Everam glowered. The three adventurers lined up the horses to the side of the gates, or rather, Revi’s summons did. But the three adventurers waited patiently in line with everyone else, slowly moving forwards.

There were [Guards] at the gates, checking cargo or waving people through. And it might have been odd, for a Gold-rank team to wait behind a humble [Trader] or wagons full of produce. But again—they might have been Gold-rank, and that was important, but there were rules.

Of course, there were people the rules didn’t apply to. The three adventurers saw Lacel the Leaper. He’d made it to Invrisil, but had been stalled here at the gates.

Not because the [Guards] wouldn’t let him through. As a Runner, all he had to do was show his seal and he could race past. But he’d stopped…

To shake hands. And talk with the people in line. They were crowded around the Courier for a chance to meet him—and to ask if he was carrying the pendant. Lacel refused to show them the hidden package. Halrac stared at him as the Courier’s voice became audible.

“Runner’s confidentiality, people! But I can promise you, I’m doing my best! Those [Raiders] weren’t much of a threat—there’s always desperate sorts. But low-level [Bandits]?”

He laughed. The people crowded around him laughed too, some looking awed. Halrac just snorted. Revi sighed.

“Ooh. And Lacel the Leaper has a fat head. That’s a shame. If he were a Stitch-Man, we could take some of the stuffing out.”

Typhenous looked extremely interested.

“Really?”

“Nah, I wish. It doesn’t work that way.”

Lacel was smiling, shaking hands. He must have been doing it the last thirty minutes because he was going down the line of people. Revi leaned out of her saddle.

“Hey Lacel! What happens if the Bloodfeast Raiders take that ten thousand gold bounty on the pendant?”

The Courier’s broad smile slipped. He froze, and then saw her.

“Well, Miss—I’d have to weigh my options, wouldn’t I? But a Courier must deliver! Say—aren’t you the adventurers from the ambush?”

He did a double-take and then strode over to them. Everyone turned to Griffon Hunt. Halrac found a hand being thrust up at him. He shook it reluctantly and saw Lacel smiling at him.

“Thank you for the help, sir. Not that I couldn’t deal with the [Raiders], but I prefer to outrun them! I appreciate the help!”

“It wasn’t a problem.”

“Nevertheless! I’ll buy you a drink if you’re staying in the city. I’m staying the night—I’d rather jog from big city to city.”

“You’re not worried about [Thieves]?”

Revi queried, interested. Lacel smiled.

“Footpads? Thieves? Most are too low-level and a good inn keeps them out. No, it’s safer to stick to cities with good lodging. While I’m awake, I can’t be jumped by anyone below my level!”

“So…just adventurers and the Bloodfeast Raiders, then? How do you know we weren’t hired?”

Lacel’s smile slipped. Revi gave him a pleased grin. He coughed.

“Well, I doubt Lord Bein—er, any unscrupulous persons trying to delay my package that is—can persuade adventurers to break their code. To the Adventurer’s Guilds. Er—are you Silver-ranks? Gold, I presume…”

“We’re Griffon Hunt. Gold-ranks!”

Revi snapped. There was a murmur. But—and it was funny—Couriers were more well-known than a lot of Gold-rank teams. After all, some Gold-ranks were seen bringing in a Cyclops’ head, or treasure from the ruins. But they mostly fought in caves, or places where people weren’t likely to be alive. Couriers ran in public.

“Well, thank you again. And I owe you that drink!”

Lacel smiled. He stepped back from the crowd and with a flourish, jogged towards the walls. He accelerated, and then leapt—straight over the heads of the startled [Guards].

“Show off.”

Halrac muttered, disapprovingly. Revi nodded.

“I almost hope someone gets him with an arrow. Almost. But I’m on Lady Hetessana’s side. I just can’t believe some arrogant [Lords].”

“Indeed. One fortunate enough to find such a [Lady]? Ah, but if I were ten…twenty years younger, I’d have tried courting her.”

Typhenous nodded sagely. Revi rolled her eyes. The adventurers ignored the people staring at them; they were used to being noticed. Indeed, Halrac heard an excited group at the north-eastern gates chattering ahead of them.

“Did you see that guy jump? That’s a Courier!”

“Is Ryoka a Courier?”

“No, she’s a City Runner. She’s got the wind, but she can’t do that. And that other guy? With the grumpy face? I told you! He’s got the Invisibow! He’s the Invisibow guy!”

The [Veteran Scout] turned his head and saw a group of young men and women chattering. He stared at them. Had he heard…?

“Invisibow. Hah!”

The [Summoner] nearly fell out of her saddle laughing. Typhenous hid a smile behind his hand.

“It’s er, a powerful artifact, Halrac. Useful, and it has an enchantment that propels arrows faster and further.”

“I know that. I’m just not used to it. I can’t see my arrows when I aim them.”

“You and your invisibow. Dead gods, that’s hilarious. Let’s hope it has another feature when we get it appraised.”

Revi sniggered. Halrac rubbed at his forehead.

“Revi. Did you hear them say…‘Ryoka’ just now?”

The Stitch-Girl stopped laughing. She sat up and glanced at the young people. From Earth.

“I heard it.”

Typhenous regarded the Earthers, but only with idle curiosity. He didn’t know who they were. And nor did they know who he was—they were staring at Revi’s stitches next, exclaiming over them.

“Hm. Maybe she knows them.”

Halrac paused. But he had gotten no communication about Ryoka. Nor about the Earthers. Because Erin hadn’t contacted Griffon Hunt. The Silver Swords, yes. The Horns of Hammerad, yes, to find Ryoka.

But not Griffon Hunt. They had a connection with Ryoka. After all—Regrika Blackpaw had come for Ryoka. And they might not know it, but Erin did. And so did Ryoka. Enough. Enough had been asked of them.

So the young people from Earth and Griffon Hunt passed each other by. The adventurers got to the gates.

“Adventurers?”

“Yes. Griffon Hunt. Gold-rank.”

The [Guards] eyed the adventurers a second time when they heard that. And the horses. But they directed the Gold-rank team into the city and pointed them to a stables—within a stone’s throw from the outer walls. Halrac, Revi, and Typhenous entered Invrisil, the City of Adventurers. Normally, orderly. And then they got to work.

—-

“We’re here. I’ll send a Street Runner to find Briganda. We’ll meet at the Adventurer’s Guild in an hour if she’s able. I’ll also send a note to…hold on. What’s his name again?”

“Er—the [Enchanter]? Hedault, I think.”

Halrac snapped his fingers.

“Yes, him. We’ll ask if he can fit us into his schedule to appraise what we have and sell everything off. It might take a few days.”

“Or weeks.”

Revi sighed. Halrac shrugged. They were standing with the horses lined up outside the stables. A [Hostler] was waiting for them. Revi and Typhenous were standing in conference.

“I’ll let him know we have something he wants. He’s generally interested in…”

Halrac nodded to the bag of holding he had Griffon Hunt’s share of the treasure in. Revi nodded.

“Man, I hate that guy. He cannot take a joke.”

Her teammates looked at her. Typhenous coughed and Halrac nodded.

“Good point. Revi doesn’t have to come with us when we get everything appraised.”

The Stitch-Girl scowled.

“Thanks, Commander Everam.”

“Stop calling—we have an hour. Everyone’s free to do what they want. Who’s selling horses?”

“I’m gonna relax. Typhenous, you like haggling.”

“I’d prefer to check on my hunch. I’ll meet everyone at the guild in an hour. Best of luck, glorious leader!”

The elderly [Mage] was already edging down the street, with surprising spryness. Halrac opened his mouth, and saw Revi hurrying off. He realized he was now in charge of selling the horses and getting the other three stabled until they found an inn.

And finding an inn. And people wondered why Halrac scowled all the time.

For her part, Revi smirked as she left Halrac with the horses. And then—she smiled. Because she was in Invrisil! And that meant she could relax.

After all, she wasn’t in her job for just the thrill of wading through a swamp at three in the morning and feeling mud bonding with your thread. Revi was an adventurer’s adventurer. And that meant she earned money—

And spent it. Revi wasn’t going to adventure until the day she died. She had dreams. She was going to go home to Chandrar someday. Or—or find a nice place in Izril. Settle down. Have a family. Sew a child with some Stitch-Man.

Or…adopt one. Probably not Humans. Or Drakes. But Revi was thinking of Gnoll cubs these days. Mrsha had been very cute and adorable. Of course, it really depended on who she met. And going to Chandrar was dicey; her homeland of Doran was…well, it had sort of been erased.

Conquered. It was now part of the Empire of Sands. So that made going home sort of awkward. But maybe by the time she got back, Doran would be back again. Chandrar had those sort of moments, not like Izril, with the north and south unchanging. Well, except for the Antinium.

The point was that Revi had a purpose. And in the meantime, well, for all the hard days of riding in cramped wagons and listening to Typhenous smack his mouth as he slept, or Halrac’s scowls, Revi got to live like a [Queen] when she reached civilization.

“Hey. Hey, which way to the Cloth District? Don’t give me that look. Just point. No idea? People like me? Hey, you. Cloth District? That way? Thanks.”

Revi navigated Invrisil much like she navigated life. By finding someone to help her. She was a [Summoner]. That meant she could call upon long-dead Stitch-People to fight for her, her ancestors mostly, summoned through pieces of their life-string embedded in summoning stones that recreated them.

Or she could summon animals. Like a giant Face-Eater moth and…other monsters. Corusdeer, etc. Revi was only limited by her mana pool and will, which allowed her creations to fight.

For some reason, most of the people she stopped stared at her and didn’t give her a straight answer, or just pointed wordlessly. That was helpful, but it was only as Revi was walking past a glass storefront that she realized she’d forgotten to put her nose back on.

“Dead gods damn it, Halrac! Typhenous!”

The Stitch-Girl swore. Her teammates had to have noticed and she’d not realized she hadn’t smelled anything the last little bit. So that was them getting back at her! Annoyed, Revi found a tiny needle and sewed the nose hurriedly back on. She caught the person inside—a [Barber]—staring at her through the window.

“What? Haven’t you ever seen—never mind.”

Revi stomped off. She’d never have gone into the barber’s shop. No matter how nice it looked, or how high-level the hairdresser was. What was the point for her?

No, Revi’s goal was the Cloth District. Many cities with a sizable Stitch-Person population had them and Invrisil was large enough that a good number existed.

The Cloth District. String People. Those who made themselves. Revi sighed as she smelled familiar scents. That of dyes, cloth—and she saw people with stitches on their arms and legs and body.

Sometimes disguised, like the flesh-colored stitches around Revi’s nose, and each Stitch-Person was different. Some were cut from large bits of carefully sewn cloth, such that an entire arm had no seams except for where it connected at the shoulder.

Others, like Revi, had bodies such that every single part was detachable; she could even pull off individual fingers. You needed to do that if you had a hand snagged by a monster and you wanted to detach it and replace it fast. But many preferred to have fewer stitches; it meant less to grow loose or fray over time. Plus…knots.

Also, the binding thread being obvious or camouflaged was its own thing. Very…charged as topics went. You got everyone from people who insisted on bright stitches to make sure people knew they were String People, to people who tried to blend in with Humans. Fleshies, they were called. Traitors to their cloth.

Politics. But it came to the forefront whenever you walked in a Cloth District. Indeed—Revi paused by the first shop she saw, and eyed it carefully.

“The Silken Touch. Huh. How about—Generic Store Name?”

She shook her head. But Revi was more concerned with the clientele and staff. And after a careful peer through the glass, she decided to risk it.

“Hello! Welcome, Miss!”

One of the Stitch-Girls welcomed Revi in. She was a beautiful, petite young woman with incredible features. Just absolutely themed. Eyes, ears, nose, facial structure and her body all complimenting the ‘short and gorgeous’ look, more of a friend’s vibe than someone going for pure, beauteous impact.

Revi didn’t give the young woman a second glance when it came to beauty. For Stitch-People, it mattered, a lot, but…their standards were incredibly high. They could be whomever they wanted, so what impressed the flesh-folk didn’t impress Revi.

But what did matter was the young attendant’s skin—that was to say, her cloth. It looked like skin. Normal skin. Very fine, soft, wonderful skin without cracking or roughness to add to her aesthetic.

But skin. Not some impossibly radiant skin that shone with a hidden glow, or made her look even more inhumanly beautiful. That meant the young woman was of the Cotton-caste.

Revi was Cotton. Her name was Revi Cotton—well, if you were going by Chandrarian address. Which was like saying…Halrac Human. But Cotton mattered.

If you were Hemp, you were born lower than Cotton. And if you were of Silk, you were born with a diamond spoon in your mouth. Or rather, sewn into your body. And oh, the castes did not get along. Silk was on top, but they were resented. And Cottons fought among themselves—Cotton was a general term for their quality of fabric—and everyone hated Hemps.

“Hi, I’m looking for some care and touching up. I’ve got an hour—make it forty minutes? You have time?”

“Of course, Miss…”

“Revi. Adventurer. Gold-rank.”

The word made the other attendants and clients look up. Revi pulled rank. And the woman in charge herself, a [Seamstress], hurried over.

“Miss Revi, we can absolutely fit you in. Would you prefer a private room?”

“Hm…sure.”

The adventurer found herself being led by the woman and two attendants into a lovely room. There was a soft, leather sofa-table to lie on, and Revi did just that, on her front.

“My name is Dewlana. I’m the [Seamstress] in charge of The Silken Touch—apologies about the name, but it does pull in clients.”

Revi smirked. She eyed Dewlana carefully. Because this was a woman made of silk.

Silk. When you made a Stitch-Person’s body out of it, they looked…well, unreal. The higher-quality a cloth, the more impressive the result. Dewlana’s body was lithe, supple, and yes, silky, but it seemed to pick up and reflect the light better. And Revi knew—she’d be stronger than regular cloth-folk, tougher, and stronger.

Normally, Revi would have avoided any Stitch-Shop catering to her kind that had Silk-caste in it. Because they would make her experience…a pain. But Dewlana was the only Silk-bodied person in the shop; all her workers were Cotton. Besides…Revi had a thought as she glanced at Dewlana’s face.

“What can we do for you, Miss Revi?”

The [Seamstress]’ tone was very hospitable. And why not? Caste aside, Gold-rank adventurers could toss around money like water. Revi smiled.

“I’d like my stitches redone. All of them. Make it good thread. Actually, make it silk.”

The attendants shivered at the word. Silk. Every Stitch-Person longed to make a body of silk, or even some more costly fabric. Revi’s body was cotton, but silk threads were an upgrade she could pay for.

She’d gotten the money from Liscor’s dungeon, after all. Dewlana smiled wide.

“Of course. Can we upgrade any part of you? Replace any limbs?”

“Mm…no, I just want everything tightened. I don’t want to replace some legs and get mismatched.”

“Naturally. And can we offer you a massage? It’s a specialty; my own design.”

“A massage? Why not?”

Revi didn’t have sore muscles. Stitch-Person, again. But as she lay on her back, the attendants began undoing her threads. And—piece by piece—they took Revi apart.

It was an unnerving experience for most to see. But Revi was made, like everyone else. When the attendants took off Revi’s leg, the flesh turned into cloth at once. A life-sized cloth replica, amazingly detailed—the more detailed it was, the better it functioned—but cloth nonetheless. They hurried it off and came back with delicate spools of silk thread. In the meantime, Dewlana attended to Revi personally.

“My, your back stitches are somewhat haphazard, Miss Revi. And you’ve burst a few stitches.”

“Hazard of the trade. Also, I had to re-stitch myself to play this game. Baseball.”

“I’ve never heard of it. But there’s all sorts of new things coming to Invrisil. Have you heard of the plays?”

“Hm…? Oh, yes. Are they here, then?”

The [Seamstress] looked a bit disappointed as she began to sew Revi back up. The process felt good, reconnecting. Revi felt firm; her limbs fully-bound. The two gossiped as Dewlana worked.

“You’ve been here before, then, Miss Revi?”

“Not in a bit. But they have them in the south. Liscor.”

“That is a long way. I saw them just in the scrying orb a while back. Wait—you wouldn’t happen to have been around when…?”

Revi smirked.

“You mean, the moths? I was there for that. Goblin Lord? I was on the walls.”

“Really?”

Some of the attendants came back in. Revi enjoyed herself as they begged to hear from her. There was no concept of signing autographs, but Stitch-People had something just as good. Revi’s old threads were taken and made part of the bodies of the other Stitch-People. They’d show it off and say—that was from Revi, Gold-rank adventurer.

After a while, Dewlana shooed the attendants away; this was about Revi, after all. As she sewed, she talked.

“Well, Miss Revi, you’ve been at the center of more things of interest than I! And here most of my clients are talking about the King of Destruction—”

“Right, Chandrar. How many are from home?”

Home was Chandrar, where String People had been created. Dewlana shrugged.

“A fair amount. But I get a number of non-Cloth folk.”

“Really? For what?”

This was a Stitch-Shop, for repairing and maintaining and yes, upgrading bodies. Dewlana’s eyes twinkled.

“Actual massages. We repair your clothes at the same time. We are better at it than most.”

Revi laughed. That was Stitch-People for you. She felt Dewlana moving around her, spooling more silk out to do the more obvious stitches around her waist, shoulders, etc.

“No concealing threads?”

“What am I? A fleshie?”

Revi regretted the comment; Dewlana’s threads were nearly invisible. The [Seamstress] passed it off, though.

“Keep it noticeable. I understand.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Dewlana got back to work. Revi paused.

“So…home, huh? Are you from…?”

“Nerrhavia. Yourself?”

“Doran.”

“Oh, wasn’t that—?”

“Yep.”

“My condolences.”

“Eh, you know how it goes. It’ll be back or it won’t. But I don’t miss it too much. Frankly—the only thing I think about sometimes are…Alterkinds.”

The fingers paused in tying a knot.

“You don’t see many, indeed.”

“Yeah. Well, I was in Liscor and I can’t say they’d take kindly to seeing a…Cloth-Drake walking about. But I miss the creativity. No judgment.”

That was important. Revi opened the door and Dewlana walked through. She casually kicked the door shut to prevent spying on their conversation.

“Of course. You know, I knew someone. A friend. He experimented with—wings.”

“Really? Did they…?”

“No. You know how it is. The flesh moves, but he was too heavy.”

“You ever experiment?”

Another pause. Revi felt herself being unlaced at the waist. She was at her most vulnerable in this moment. Anyone could attack her when she was helpless. And yes, it was a concern. But not in this shop, in Invrisil. Any Stitch-Person who preyed on another in this scenario?

They’d be burned, piece by piece.

“…Well, you know.”

“Mhm. What did you try? I did—scales. You know, decoration. And a bit of protection.”

“Really? What kind of cloth…”

“You have to have really hard fabrics. But they have it.”

“Ah. Well—I—this is embarrassing.”

“Spill it. We’re both Cotton.”

Revi twisted her head. And she caught Dewlana mid-nod. The [Seamstress] froze. And then she exhaled. She paused, stepped back, and gave Revi a rueful look.

“What gave me away?”

“Aside from the fact that you employ Cotton-castes? And you’re sewing me up without so much as a sniff? I’m from home. I can see a cloth-craft.”

The [Summoner] nodded at Dewlana’s face. The [Seamstress]’ face looked like the rest of her body. Until you gazed closer and could see the micro-stitching holding the silk onto the original cotton. Dewlana sighed.

“You have no idea how hard it is to reduce your face’s cloth enough to layer silk over it. How obvious am I? No one’s ever commented…”

“Please. I told you, I hung out with Alterkind. They know all the tricks. Did it…”

“Hurt? I can’t remove my head. So it was flesh.”

Revi paused. That meant Dewlana had peeled her skin…she looked at Dewlana a second time.

“Was it worth it?”

“To run a shop as a [Seamstress] and not be stared down by other Silks? Absolutely.”

The woman’s eyes flashed. Revi nodded slowly. [Seamstress] was a prestigious class in Stitch-People society.

“Lips sealed. Don’t sew ‘em up.”

Dewlana relaxed. They were, after all, Cottons, and you had to stick together, even if one was passing for Silk. She spoke after a few minutes of quiet rethreading.

“…Ears.”

“What?”

“I had…er…you know Beastkin?”

“Yup. What about them?”

“I…altered my ears. Well, I added ears from other species. Bunny, dog—”

“Cat?”

“Once or twice. It was a look. But I grew tired of it. You hear way too much. And frankly—you can make them look awful if you mess them up. And you know, Alterkind—”

Revi laughed and nodded. There were people who didn’t look like ‘normal’ Stitch-People. Like Humans. Some looked like Drakes, or other species until you stared really close. And some were more…experimental still. Sometimes it could be awful.

But mostly it was just a phase for young String People. In some Stitch-Nations it was considered profane, disgusting. But most were tolerant of low-level alterations.

“Well, now that you’ve thoroughly uncovered my secrets, do you want that massage?”

“I mean, sure. I don’t have any pain, though. I could always re-stuff myself. What…ow! Hey!”

Revi felt a sharp ache appear in her shoulders. She looked over.

“What are you doing?”

“Inducing muscular pain, Miss Revi. It will only be for a moment. And then—”

“Oh. Wow.”

The adventurer sighed as Dewlana began kneading her back hard. She’d induced the pain such that she was now hitting it perfectly. Revi sighed as she felt herself relaxing. And it was better than not having the massage at all.

“That’s so brilliant.”

“It is a hit. The only problem I have are with Humans—mostly Humans—who come in and expect something more than a massage.”

Revi rolled her eyes.

“And you look amazing. I love your stitches. Is the dark skin…?”

“I didn’t change skin colors.”

Revi nodded. They both had darker skin tones than Izrilians. Dewlana sighed.

“It is a problem. Human women always ask me what ointments I’m using.”

Both Revi and Dewlana laughed at the thought. Then Dewlana sighed.

“And I can’t but sit at a Human bar without men falling over themselves.”

“Appearances. They can’t change. I feel it. At least my two teammates don’t have that problem, much. But I’m not exactly changing my appearance for flirting, you know?”

If appearance mattered for Humans and other species…it didn’t as much for Stitch-People. They were the most looks-focused species in the world, and yet, they understood change was only a stitch away.

“Maybe you should sew on some regular cotton. Pretend you’re ordinary, find a good fellow, and then show him what you’re made of. Put on the cat ears when you do.”

Dewlana nearly laughed her own stitches off. By the time the forty minutes were done, Revi felt refreshed, restrung, and good. The silk threads were not cheap, but she felt like they were adding to her structure. And if she could someday pay for a silk body?

…Well, she was attached to her cotton. And that was a struggle many had. Before Revi left, she leaned forwards and whispered to Dewlana.

“Silk body, cotton heart. Keep it together.”

“You too, sister.”

The two parted, smiling. Revi stretched in the sunlight. She smiled. Then her smile slipped.

“Aw. Moths. Now we have to meet the old crew.”

She sighed. If meeting Briganda was as bad as Elm, she’d splurge on a nice, new…arm? Silk? Ooh, it might not match, but imagine how that would feel? Revi converted herself as she went to settle old debts.

After all—it was Typhenous and her fault that Griffon Hunt had split up. Mostly Typhenous’ fault.

But hers too.

—-

The door to the Adventurer’s Guild swung open and Halrac stepped into the room. He was followed by Revi and Typhenous.

The adventurers in the vast, rather plush Guild that was one of, if not the largest in the continent looked up. Some stood at queues at desks tended to by receptionists, others were clustered around the bulletin boards listing bounties.

Normally, an Adventurer’s Guild was smallish, and had a regular cast of teams. Not so in Invrisil. This was one of the spots to be. You could find Gold-rank teams here at any hour. And the guild was open at all times. Even Named Adventurers might walk through these doors. The Guildmaster himself had been part of a Named-rank team.

Not individual himself; there was an important distinction. Teams could be as powerful or more powerful than a Named-rank individual, but the individual members might not be as formidable.

Even so—this was the spot. And Griffon Hunt, seasoned veterans that they were, knew the score.

They casually walked forwards, past Bronze-ranks who were covered in muck after slaying rats in the sewers, or had been gathering [Alchemist] ingredients. Typical errand-work to make ends meet. Past chatting Silver-ranks who looked up, appraising for competition and then looked down.

The Gold-ranks had their own section of the guild. You had to walk through a door. It was just a door; no magic runes, no guards. But if you didn’t fit…you’d be seen.

The second door opened at a touch. Halrac walked through and glanced about.

Slowly. Carefully. There were far fewer adventurers in here. Six teams and a number of individuals. When they looked up, it was as equals, assessing, weighing the new competition that had just come in.

“And here’s the rat race, all over again. I miss Liscor. There we were big names. Until Pallass swanned in.”

Revi grumbled. She was relaxed, standing with her team. But Typhenous, nodding as he bent to murmur to her, Halrac, cool and cold—they were all aware of themselves. They moved deliberately, calmly.

Because they were being watched. Because this was competition and how you presented yourself was important. Especially among Gold-ranks. How you were perceived, favors—it all mattered.

Not all Gold-ranks were equal, of course. Griffon Hunt moved with a confidence that made some of the other Gold-ranks decide not to try hazing them. Indeed, some Gold-ranks were low-level, at least, comparatively. Some were veterans.

Some were near Named-rank and only one thing, or recognition, held them back. But that was gold for you.

Sometimes it was mundane, and duller than you imagined. Other times it was Truegold, with a luster and magic beyond regular minerals.

Other times it was…pyrite.

“Griffon Hunt. I knew I placed you, but without those damn dogs, I never woulda guessed.”

Someone murmured their name. A few of the Gold-rank adventurers snapped their fingers. Placing them. Halrac turned and saw a familiar face.

“Todi.”

“That’s Captain Todi to you, Everam. I heard about Ulrien. Sorry about that. Was it true a Named-rank got him?”

Griffon Hunt saw a man in a silk doublet, armed with a club and a wand. Captain Todi was an odd fellow; he dressed much like the Silk-caste of the Stitch-Folk made their bodies. Expensively, and to impress. But he had a wider face, and a nose that had been broken more than once.

“Todi?”

Revi murmured to Typhenous. He sub-vocalized a response into her ears with a flick of his fingers.

“I know him by name. Todi, leader of Todi’s Elites. Yes, I know. But his team specializes in magical attacks and rapid movement. Teleport and [Fireball].”

“Oh. That sort.”

Revi rolled her eyebrows. She wasn’t a schooled [Mage]—she’d learned summoning through her family, and neither was Typhenous. But they both knew the sort of Gold-rank that Todi was.

One that relied on artifacts. His team of six all had magical gear. Maybe lesser teleport scrolls, or if they were [Mages], they knew the spell. Maybe an artifact that did the same thing. And their wands? Wands of [Fireball] would mean they could shoot six all at once.

Any Silver-rank team would have trouble matching that kind of firepower. But was it…well, high-Gold?

No. Still, they deserved the rank if they’d gone through enough battles, and Todi looked like he’d been through a war. Halrac introduced him.

“This is Revi and Typhenous. You two—Todi. I knew him in Silver-ranks. He pulled himself out of Bronze all the way to the top.”

“And don’t you forget it, Everam. So this is your crew? Damn. And Ulrien bit it?”

Halrac—paused. Revi had an urge to nudge him before he belted Todi in the face. Because—he looked like he was going to. But to her relief, the [Scout] only nodded.

“Not a Named-rank. A criminal. Regrika Blackpaw. Gnoll.”

“Damn. A criminal? Well, Ulrien always had balls to even try taking one of them on, sideways or not. So you were at Liscor, huh? You should’ve stayed is what I hear. I’m planning on going south myself. Can I get you a drink?”

Halrac paused. He glanced over—there were people serving the adventurers.

“We can sit. I don’t see the person we’re waiting for yet.”

He nodded and Griffon Hunt sat down. Todi waved his team off; they nodded at him. Then he called out.

“Hey! Jewel! Get over here and meet Halrac!”

Another Gold-rank adventurer looked up. She glared, but stood up and broke away from the team she’d been talking with. Jewel, as it turned out, was a Balerosian. Her team came with her. All two of them.

“Everam, meet Jewel. She’s part of…fuck…what was it? Glistening Spear?”

“Glitterblade, Todi. Don’t play games. Well met. Everam?”

“Halrac. Griffon Hunt.”

Jewel was no [Mage], and her entire team were, in fact, [Fighters]. Well, variants on the class, but mobile, comparatively lightly-armored warriors. One was a [Duelist], the other a [Spellblade]—a variant on [Spellsword] that had Skills which enhanced the artifact he carried, a flyssa, and Jewel herself was a [Swashbuckler].

“Nimble as a cat. She made a name for herself fighting the damn Ogres who came out of the hills a while back. Her team’s new to Gold-rank. Four months. Be respectful to Halrac! He’s been in Griffon Hunt at Gold-rank for over two years, Jewel. Longer than me.”

“Pleased.”

The woman looked resigned at Todi casually ordering about, although her comrades were less than cool with it. But he had seniority, which mattered…up to a point.

“Of course, they used to be a squad of six. And then eight. Rolled about the north hunting Griffins. And they had dogs.”

“Griffon dogs?”

One of the Glitterblades looked delighted at the play-on-words. Halrac nodded. He was sitting with Todi and the Glitterblades as Revi broke into the conversation.

“Nice team you have, Todi. They don’t want to join us?”

“Captain Todi. And they’re not my crew. Not like Everam and Ulrien. They roll with me, I give them gear, and if we split, we split. No hard feelings.”

Todi’s method was another sort you found sometimes. His team wasn’t a group that stuck with each other through thick-and-thin, just adventurers, almost like mercenaries, fighting for a brief window. It was closer to how Griffon Hunt operated, but even more casually.

“You were a fan of that. You own all the wands and artifacts? It’s been a long time since we saw each other.”

Halrac spoke in a non-committal tone of voice. Todi snorted.

“What, a year? Yeah. But like I kept telling you—artifacts. Bug out if it gets hot. None of your ‘kill em even if you die’ crap. That’s how your team got blacklisted in the north.”

Ears perked up. Jewel hesitated.

“What’s this now?”

“Ah, well, Griffon Hunt used to be the Griffin-slaying team. But during that migration of the things a few years back? Things got out of control and there was a plague—”

“You mean—the Griffin-plague a year and a half back?”

Halrac’s eyes narrowed.

“You can catch them up later, Todi. Why are you here? I thought you operated around First Landing because the contracts were bigger.”

The other man’s eyebrows rose as he swallowed his drink.

“You mean you don’t know? Have you been on the road the last few days?”

“That’s road, Toady. What’s the news?”

Revi smiled as Todi glared at her.

“She’s got a mouth on her, this one. You really—hey! Where’s the Wyvern bounty?”

A few Gold-ranks pointed. Todi adjusted a ring on his finger, flicked his wrist. A bounty flew across the room and he caught the paper.

“Feast your eyes—”

He showed Griffon Hunt the bounty. The team read in silence. Revi choked on her drink.

“Two thousand gold pieces per Wyvern head!? Eighty thousand for—”

“This can’t be real. It’s a prank.”

Halrac tossed the paper down. Todi waved a finger.

“Not so fast. Do you think I’d be here if it was fake? They confirmed it. It’s real. Someone sent the gold to First Landing’s Adventurer’s Guild. Remotely. Via spell transfer.”

“Impossible. There’s no way that’s cost-efficient. Someone must be making some move politically. One of the Walled Cities? But why?”

Typhenous’ eyes narrowed as he tried to consider it. Halrac just stared. Revi gulped. They’d gotten a huge haul from their treasure in Liscor’s dungeon, even split three ways. But 80,000 gold pieces put all that to shame. That—you could think about being a Named-rank adventurers if you had that much gold to outfit yourself with. Or buy one serious artifact.

“And the regular Wyverns are made of gold. Tell you the truth, I thought it was all shit. Like the ‘Golden Goblin’ rumors, you know? But since it’s real—I’m cashing in. I bet you wish you’d stayed at Liscor.”

“It’s the High Passes. Not exactly safe.”

Halrac muttered. Todi just laughed.

“I’ve heard that! But as far as I’m concerned, it’s a race to the High Passes and my team moves out tonight! You want to join in, we can team up. But otherwise, we’ll be taking Wyvern kills. Sorry about Ulrien, again.”

He slapped the table and stood. Halrac murmured a goodbye.

“That guy was made of a donkey and a mule’s ass.”

Revi glared at his back. Jewel snorted.

“Sorry. Is he like that…?”

She glanced at Halrac. The [Scout] focused on her.

“Not all teams. Todi’s just the loudest. Ignore him—except when he’s working. He earned Gold-rank.”

“What’s your thought on the Wyverns? As anti-air specialists.”

Another Gold-rank adventurer chimed in, a solo [Mage]. He wanted to chat now the loud adventurer was gone. Halrac pursed his lips and Typhenous and Revi paused. He was the expert; some might be reluctant to give their opinions, but it depended on the adventurer.

“I’d weigh it against your team. We’re understaffed to hunt Griffins or Wyverns.”

“Even as a group of three?”

Jewel was dismayed. Halrac looked at her.

“They need at least four, preferably five. Monsters that large can kill even someone with artifacts if you don’t anticipate the attacks. A Wyvern drops on their prey. And they weigh…”

The other Gold-ranks murmured.

“Can’t you just shoot them in the eyes? I saw that Antinium-thing doing it.”

“Sure. And if you miss, you’re flatbread. With jam.”

Revi snorted. The Gold-ranks quieted. Halrac nodded.

“The real trick is that the High Passes have other threats. Eater Goats. Gargoyles. Worse monsters. You’ll be under attack while you’re staring up at the skies. And Eater Goats can sneak up on even Named Ranks at night and eat you as you sleep.”

The other adventurers sighed, or shook their heads. A few more were chatting as Halrac gave them tips. Jewel was nodding to him, looking grateful.

“We’ll invest in protective gear, or spells if we hunt them. More than we do normally, I mean. We were worried it was some kind of trick—maybe the Drakes want us to die in the High Passes, but if the gold’s there…thank you for the advice. We don’t get it from most of the teams we meet.”

She shot a glare at Todi’s back. Another solo Gold-rank adventurer nodded.

“It’s nothing. We’re all just sharing tips, and making our gold one monster at a time.”

Revi was feeling generous. It was Typhenous who stroked his beard and nodded around.

“We may work together in the future. It’s good to meet young people in the Gold-ranks.”

That was exactly it. You built connections in case you needed a hand. And in fact—Halrac paused.

“Actually, we’re looking for new Gold-ranks. My team’s meeting an old comrade, but do you know anyone who’s looking for a team?”

The other adventurers glanced at each other. Now, here was a common and uncommon offer. Join a new team. It was tricky, fitting adventurers together who ‘worked’. Many preferred to work alone or changed teams often for that reason.

“Who’s you looking for? I’m a [Hammerer]. And don’t let the class fool you; I’ve consolidated twice. Can I ask about shares and so on? Also, what’s your focus?”

“We’re equal share.”

Revi eyed the bald man who spoke up first. Halrac paused.

“We don’t have a set target in mind, but we do specialize in Griffins.”

The Gold-rank made a face.

“Eh. I haven’t fought ‘em, but I’d be willing to learn. But—I’m looking for a group to fight Wyverns, not much else. There’s pure gold there. If you’re heading south, give me a shout. Otherwise…some other time?”

“Of course.”

A few more adventurers came over to test the waters. Revi had only a good feeling about one of them, a young woman who was just new to Gold-rank with a smile. She was a throwing expert.

“She was nice. Good, long-range—if we get Briganda with us, we could get her and another shield-person.”

Halrac shrugged, reserving judgment as always. It was Typhenous who leaned over. And the old [Mage]’s face was serious.

“No.”

His teammates looked at him.

“No?”

Halrac frowned. Typhenous eyed the young woman’s back.

“She’s…a [Murderer]. Not just an adventurer. That young lady? She’s killed more people than I have.”

Revi and Halrac looked at Typhenous. The old [Mage] did have his wide and often eclectic sources of information, but Revi had to call him out on this one.

“How do you know that, Typh? And don’t tell me it’s a Skill or something.”

“Hardly. I’m no [Arbiter] or…I was inquiring after the state of affairs in Invrisil. Obviously I asked about people of interest. That young lady is known. She has a history—she’s gone clean now, but she had to pay off a substantial bounty. And that was the one she was convicted of.”

The [Scout] paused.

“Definitely not, then.”

“Humans. You think you know someone…”

Revi shuddered as she stared after the young woman. She turned back to Typhenous.

“Anything else you want to share before I shake another monster’s hands?”

The old man smiled.

“Two things. Firstly, we may not see them here, but there’s a Named Adventurer in the city.”

“Who?”

“Elia Arcsinger herself. The Goblin King Slayer.”

Halrac and Revi both blinked.

“You mean, the—”

“She was the one who helped rout the Goblins in the Dwarfhalls Rest mountain, wasn’t she?”

“Exactly. Her contract expired, but she hasn’t left for the north. Apparently, she and her team have been living it up.”

“Can we meet her? I mean—wait, is her team Named?”

“Just her. And I’m sorry to say that she’s reclusive. I doubt she’d be drinking with Todi.”

The Stitch-Girl nodded, disappointed but understanding. Named-rank adventurers and teams were another level, even with Gold-ranks. Halrac eyed Typhenous.

“What’s the last bit of news? The thing you went out to find? Out with it.”

Typhenous spread his arms, smiling.

“It appears the Players of Celum have arrived at Invrisil. They’re putting on plays in a theatre—and they are the most coveted and famous thing in Invrisil right now.”

The two adventurers stared. And then Revi sat back and laughed. Heads turned as Revi exclaimed.

“No way. That’s incredible! And are they—”

“Jasi and Wesle, the two star [Actors] on stage. I did check. It’s impossible to get a ticket to their shows without waiting for weeks in advance, and apparently, some of the nobility have invited them to do personal performances. The Players of Celum…declined and so the nobility are coming here.”

The [Mage]’s eyes glittered with amusement and delight. Revi was delighted. Even Halrac had a faint smile.

“We have to meet them! I remember Wesle and Jasi! I think! One of them’s a Drake, right?”

Typhenous was nodding.

“We can look into it afterwards. It may be hard to even see them, much less get face-to-face. Apparently, they’re so popular they generate crowds. There was this other acting troupe, but apparently they’ve been disbanded because they were so…inferior. A few have joined the Players, and they’re currently performing almost constantly. They have over a hundred—”

Halrac’s head turned. The [Scout] held out a hand.

“Wait on that, Typhenous. She’s here.”

Griffon Hunt stopped. Revi looked up. And she saw a woman, Human, scarred from a life of battle, in her late thirties, making her way over to them.

A [Shield Maiden]. She wasn’t as burly as Ulrien had been, but she did have muscle. And she had a stocky build, and Revi knew she could block a charging bull—or Griffin. Once. But even without her Skills, Briganda was tough. She’d split more monster’s heads with the enchanted hatchet she carried than Revi could count. That same hand was now leading a little toddler…past the tables…

The team stared. Briganda halted and stared at them. She looked—shocked. Revi felt almost as shocked, seeing her.

That bad night, when Griffon Hunt had disbanded, they’d all parted ways. Now, it was painful to see the old teammates again, especially because she and Typhenous were outsiders. But—

There was also the kid. Briganda smiled after a second. She had violet in her hair. Violet, mixed with brown—a hereditary trait from some magic in her ancestry.

“Here you go. Up!”

She lifted the little boy up. Revi saw a young, young boy, flesh and blood and big eyes, staring at her. He had a head of dark violet hair, deeper than Briganda’s, fair skin—he looked like his mother. He stared at her, wide-eyed. He couldn’t have been more than…four?

“Mom. She has threads in her face.”

He instantly pointed at Revi’s face. The Stitch-Girl blinked. Briganda sighed, affectionately, as she pulled out a chair.

“Don’t point, love. It’s rude. Halrac. Revi, Typhenous. It’s been one hell of a year since we saw each other. Or…two? Closer to two, now.”

She nodded at them. Briganda was at once familiar—and different. The same woman who would unapologetically kick her teammates out of the way to use the bathroom—and a mother. But…Revi had known this.

“Briganda. And—it’s Cabe, right?”

“Cade.”

“Right, I knew that. Wow. He got big.”

Cade had been just a tiny boy when she’d seen him last. And he was still a boy. But now he talked.

“I’m Cade. Are you Mom’s friends? Why do you have that in your neck?”

He stared at them. Revi looked at the threads in her neck.

“Why don’t you?”

The boy stared at Revi with a slightly open mouth, trying to figure out what to say. Briganda sighed.

“Cade, I’m going to have a long talk with my team, okay? Can you sit and have fun?”

“Can I have—can I—can I get—the—the—box?”

The boy instantly grew excited. Briganda nodded. Smiling, she handed him a little…box. Revi saw it had hinges and it was clearly magical. Cade reached for it, and slowly, opened the lid.

A Dragon flew out. Cade and Revi’s eyes went round as the tiny Dragon flew around him. He instantly reached for it, missed—but the illusion perched on his hand. He petted at it, and Revi saw the Dragon’s head move. It had substance!

“Remember, no breaking the things that come out or you have to wait a long time for them to come back.”

Briganda cautioned Cade. He nodded slowly.

“Ah, a trick box. Or are they real? A Box of Simulacra. I saw a few on the market—but for practicing a war simulation, not entertainment. I can recharge the magic if it runs out.”

Typhenous chuckled as he stared at Cade stroking the Dragon’s head. Briganda sighed as Cade sat, oblivious to the world, playing with his magical toy.

“Don’t tell him that, or he’ll lose what caution he has. It cost me an arm and a leg to buy, but it was worth it. Nothing else keeps his attention when I’m working.”

“Briganda. It’s good to see you. And Cade. I’d…forgotten.”

Halrac’s voice was strained. Revi had too, although she hadn’t said it. Cade was Briganda’s child. She’d had him in the course of being an adventurer. Somehow, she hadn’t noticed until she was close to delivering him and then the [Healer] had advised her that it might complicate matters if she didn’t have him.

She’d decided to have Cade. And while travelling alongside Griffon Hunt, she’d kept Cade in the care of actual [Carers], [Nursemaids], and so on. Revi remembered seeing a young boy, but this one was different.

“Well, I’ve been Cade’s full-time mother. Mostly. He’s big enough to come along…sometimes. But it’s a hell of a thing. I almost miss the days he was just a baby.”

Briganda smiled tiredly. She nodded at Cade.

“I still can’t believe you never noticed you were pregnant.”

“I told you, I thought I was getting fat. And being a [Fighter] means I don’t have as many symptoms. Well, I never puked in the mornings. Best part of my class.”

The woman shrugged. Revi wanted to roll her eyes, but—Briganda all over again. She’d walk into a trap Casielle had set five minutes ago if you let her.

“…Thanks for meeting us. We weren’t sure you’d agree.”

Halrac seemed to decide he was going to stay on track. He nodded at Briganda. She smiled, but…reserved. She looked Halrac up and down, and then nodded at Revi and Typhenous. She was the original part of Griffon Hunt, though. And so she spoke mainly to him.

“I owed it to you to speak, even if it was just about Ulrien. Named-rank, huh?”

“Yes.”

Halrac’s brow darkened. Briganda reached out and grasped his shoulder.

“Regrika Blackpaw. I remembered, but she’s a Gnoll. Still—it shouldn’t have happened. To tell you the truth, I felt guilty about it. So did the others, I think. They’re still mad, Elm especially, but Cassielle’ll want to talk. But he’s in Terandria.”

The [Scout] nodded silently. He paused.

“You keep in touch?”

“Some. Casielle drops in and out; he’s always on long missions, like the old days, and you know how it is at a distance. But Elm messaged me last week.”

Revi and Typhenous winced. Briganda studied Halrac. The man paused.

“I regret that.”

“I don’t blame you. Sounds like Elm said—what Elm said. I can imagine. But he told me something of what happened and what you offered so…here I am. What do you want to say?”

Briganda leaned back, waving for a drink. Cade looked up.

“Can I have a fruit?”

“Can you get one of those fruit drinks for my boy?”

The server nodded. Briganda sipped from her cup as Halrac paused. When the [Scout] spoke, his voice was calm, flat.

“I know we parted on bad terms. I’m not here to make excuses. Or argue about the past. Ulrien—let’s talk about him later. Right now, as Captain of Griffon Hunt, I’m here to tell you that we want to make things right. We can’t undo the past, but we’re offering recompense. After that? We’re fully quits. No grudges held, no old debts.”

“What’s the recompense? Elm said he turned his down.”

Halrac looked at Revi and Typhenous. She felt her stomach twisting—it was almost all of what they’d gotten from the dungeon! But it had to be done.

“Elm can claim his share if he asks. We’re putting it to use if he doesn’t claim it by the time we reach out to Casielle—but its 6,000 gold pieces. To each of you. If you don’t want—”

“I’ll take it.”

Briganda sipped from her mug. Halrac paused.

“Just like that?”

She looked at him. The [Shield Maiden] nodded to her child.

“Halrac, I have Cade, I’m not working as an adventurer these days—and I have no idea who the father is. Nor am I exactly shopping around. Of course I’ll take it. But that’s not all Elm said, was it?”

She looked at Revi. The Stitch-Girl shook her head. So far this was going far better than with Elm. The [Ranger] had tossed his drink in Halrac’s face before they even listed the amount. Revi nodded.

“We’re asking if you want to rejoin Griffon Hunt, Briggy.”

The old nickname made Briganda smile. She looked at Revi and Typhenous.

“The old gang, getting back together? You’re not calling it quits, then, Halrac?”

“We’re recruiting. We don’t stop. Not unless everyone leaves. You and Casielle are first on our lists. If you say yes—we don’t pay you all six thousand gold. You’re part of the team. You get something—but we keep going. As we have. I’ll lead.”

“Huh.”

Briganda had to take that all in. Cade was giggling as a bunch of [Knights] trotted out of the box and faced off against the Dragon. They were bravely waving their swords as the Dragon assailed them from above with fiery breath. Then he smacked the Dragon as it picked up a tiny, flailing [Knight].

“Be careful, Cade. Remember, if you break them, even to help out, it’s gone for at least eight hours! That’s until nap time!”

The woman waved at Cade. Halrac hesitated.

“I understand you’ve moved on, Briganda. We can just—”

She held up a hand.

“Hold on, Everam. I didn’t say no. Tell me about rejoining. What do I get and give?”

Halrac paused. Typhenous steepled his fingers as he slyly pointed a finger. Cade giggled as the Dragon flapped away, blown by a stiff little gust of wind. He reached out—Briganda steadied him before he could go over the table.

“I believe our Captain will pay you two thousand gold pieces for personal funds, Briganda. Four thousand of the six goes back into our pool, to be used as needed.”

It would still go to equipment and whatnot, just not necessarily to her. Briganda nodded.

“Sounds fair. Two thousand enlistment? Sweet pot you have there.”

“Recompense.”

Halrac clarified. Briganda paused.

“Yeah. I’ll take the gold either way. But joining up? I’d…yeah. Let’s do that too.”

She nodded. Revi blinked. But Briganda had never, ever, taken more than a minute deciding anything. That was why she was so good in a fight; she didn’t hesitate. The longest she’d ever taken that Revi had seen was deciding to have Cade.

“Just like—no. In that case, Briganda, we’d be delighted to have you. But your son…”

Halrac caught himself, and then gestured at Cade as Briganda let him watch a marching band. Briganda paused.

“Cade?”

“How will you manage him? He’s older now. We might be gone from Invrisil—”

“No. This time I’m taking him on the road with me. I can find someone in most places we stop. And he’s old enough to handle wagon rides. If I join up, he comes with. That’s not an argument.”

The woman made a slashing motion with one hand. Halrac looked at his teammates.

In times past, Briganda had left Cade at safer places, not moving him around except if Griffon Hunt changed their working base. Halrac frowned.

“Surely you can leave him somewhere safe. It’s never entirely secure on the road, Briganda. We had [Raiders] just this morning. We might be able to leave him at an inn. And it’s convenient—”

“No. He goes where I go. He nearly forgot I was his mother, Halrac. I’m not leaving him again.”

Briganda met Halrac’s eyes. She glanced at Revi. The Stitch-Woman felt a pang in her chest.

“How’s it been, Briganda?”

The [Shield Maiden] sighed. She rubbed at her hair, and she looked tired.

“Honestly? I’m jumping at the opportunity. Quitting Griffon Hunt with my name…? No, even if I’d been regular, I forgot how dangerous it is to go solo. It’s hard to find a team, and with Cade, I can’t just walk at an Ogre and not care what happens next. I have to take safe work. Escorting caravans if they let Cade come with, guard duty—I can get work because I’m over Level 30, but I’m always underpaid. You get me?”

She looked at the others. They nodded. It was indeed a sudden change, moving from Gold-rank to any other sort of work, which was always less well-paying. Briganda went on, her voice steady.

“And I can’t afford the gear I need. I found a hole in my chainmail last month and nearly burst into tears. Because I can’t earn enough for maintaining my non-magical gear. So yeah—sign me up.”

“But it’s dangerous. I won’t take a child into the areas we go to.”

Briganda paused, clearly thinking fast.

“It’s dangerous in the city, Everam. Listen—Cade needs a mother. You think I don’t know the dangers? I worry about him all the time and he’s tried to climb off the balcony more’n once. But I’m not going to be the adventurer who runs off and he doesn’t remember me. He goes where I go. That’s the deal breaker.”

Halrac looked—conflicted. He glanced at Revi and Typhenous.

“That’s not what I expected, Briganda. I’m going to have to talk it over with my team.”

“I get that. You want more time or…?”

“Give us a few minutes and we’ll decide if we do.”

The [Shield Maiden] nodded. She stood up, and hesitated. She touched the buckler and hatchet she wore.

“Some of my armor’s worn down, but my magical gear’s all here. I had to pawn a ring, but that’s all. And I’ve leveled once. That’s my best sell. I’d like to rejoin, honestly. Casielle might too, although he has good work. He’ll take the money, at least. Thank you for that. Honestly. No hard feelings either way.”

She nodded at them and then urged Cade to a distant table. Halrac watched her go. And Revi?

She was shaken. A bit. That had sounded a bit like desperation in Briganda’s voice. Revi wanted to remind her she was getting six thousand gold either way. You could live on that! Not like Revi liked to, but still.

“Thoughts?”

Halrac looked at his teammates. Typhenous was peering at Cade. He made a face as the boy stared and Cade laughed. The old man turned to Halrac, smiling, and then replied.

“If you want to decline, don’t wait to do so.”

Cold. Revi stared at him.

“We can’t turn Briganda down! Didn’t you hear…?”

“The road’s no place for a child.”

Halrac sounded uncertain. Typhenous shrugged.

“It’s certainly dangerous. But it’s your choice, Halrac. Briganda isn’t irreplaceable. But she is a good woman. Still—impartially, I can argue both against and for her. Cade will slow us down. And we might be unable to take some contracts. He might be put in danger inadvertently and put us all at risk. That is motherhood, and Briganda is a mother.”

He looked at Halrac. Revi opened her mouth. But Briganda was a teammate!

And yet—there was no room for hesitation or distraction fighting monsters. She paused. Halrac closed his eyes.

“Arguments for?”

“She knows our tactics. She’s got a powerful one-off Skill, and she’s got gear, she’s giving us four thousand back—if we assume we give money to Casielle, but not to Elm that’s…how much is it, Typhenous?”

“We’re estimating our money at around 35,000 when appraised. Hedault will give us a clearer number, but assuming that’s true, we will have 27,000 gold pieces to work with. If Briganda joins us. 23,000 if not.”

And that was a large number. If they paid out to all three…they’d be spending nearly half of the dungeon haul. But this wasn’t about just that. It was about…Revi looked pleadingly at Halrac.

The [Scout] paused. He closed his eyes. He glared—opened his gaze and looked at his teammates.

“Fine. I’ve made my choice. First off, I don’t like being Captain. Ulrien was better at this than I was.”

Revi half-smiled, but she waited, nervous. Typhenous steepled his fingers. Halrac went on.

“Briganda’s everything you two said. I know her. The issue with her child is new. I don’t like putting people at risk and sometimes we can’t protect ourselves. So—the answer is no.”

The Stitch-Girl’s face fell. She stared at Halrac as he motioned Briganda over. He delivered the news and she nodded, heavily.

“Any chance I can change your mind?”

“No. Sorry, Briganda, but your son’s a risk.”

“I am?”

Cade looked at Halrac. The [Scout]’s expression didn’t change. He flicked his gaze to Briganda.

“It’s my decision. Our team is probably going to hunt Wyverns. But the High Passes—there’s nowhere safe anywhere around the mountains. At all. You know that. And there aren’t any big bounties I know of, anywhere else. We’re going to try and increase our funds with that—and we can gear up, maybe take temporary help. Once that’s done, if you’re still in the area—we can talk.”

Briganda had been nodding. She stirred. Revi looked at Halrac.

“Wait—but you said—”

“We can work with Briganda on a…provisional basis. We’ll look at what we’re taking on. If we think we can get there, Briganda can join us. Otherwise…no.”

The [Shield Maiden]’s face lit up. She reached out and punched Halrac on the shoulder.

“You bastard! Whoops, don’t repeat that, Cade. That’s the Halrac I know. Stone-faced and soft as an unboiled egg on the inside. Wish you’d been the father, or Ulrien. Pretty glad it wasn’t Elm. Cassielle? Eh. I’d live with the half-Elf.”

Halrac tried to play it off, but he smiled a bit as Briganda gripped his shoulder. It was Typhenous who had a thought.

“Halrac, perhaps Briganda can sign with us immediately.”

“What?”

Briganda and Halrac looked at him. The [Mage] rubbed at his chin.

“As I recall, a certain friend may deliver a…transportation method to Invrisil. Not to the High Passes—and it would be a few day’s ride. But Briganda might be satisfied leaving Cade in the area.”

“What? Transportation method?”

The woman narrowed her eyes. She still had an adventurer’s instincts for the important. Halrac hesitated.

“I didn’t think of that. It’s not exactly safe there—that’s where Ulrien…”

“Maybe in the city? But we’d still be using the passageway. Consider it. And if we are waiting for Hedault…”

The [Scout] paused. He looked at Briganda. He looked at Typhenous.

“That’s an excellent point. Briganda—we can catch you up to speed. But if it was—”

“Halrac, I can leave Cade somewhere for a week or two. As long as I’m coming back to him after we get out of the swamp or something. He’s not camping with us near a monster. I’m in. All the way. What’s this you’re telling me?”

Briganda’s eye were shining. Halrac hesitated. Then he reached out.

“I hate leading. I guess I have to rephrase my answer. Briganda—would you rejoin Griffon Hunt?”

“Absolutely.”

The two clasped hands. Revi shot to her feet, eyes shining. She hugged Briganda and Typhenous rose as well. Cade looked confused.

“Mom? Are you crying?”

“It’s good news, Cade. The best. I’m joining up with my old team. My friends. Do you remember them?”

Briganda reassured her worried son. Cade peered at Revi. At Typhenous, who smiled down at him, and Halrac, who tried his best not to be a grim-faced man who could make a child cry at a hundred paces. Cade paused.

“…No.”

—-

They had to have a drink, of course. To celebrate. But even here—Briganda stopped after two cups. She was a mother now, and she had a lot to do. Quit her old job, tell some of her friends, assess her gear…

And her team had to catch her up on everything that had happened. Briganda swore a blue streak before Cade asked her what the words meant when she heard about everything.

Ulrien, the haul from Liscor’s dungeon, Erin Solstice and her inn, Halrac’s bow…and they hadn’t even told her the big things.

Like speculation about Dragons near Liscor. But they’d already moved out of the Gold-rank area; adventurers had long ears.

“Honestly, I don’t like the idea of competing on hunting Wyverns. We’ll be fighting too many dangerous monsters, even if there are hundreds of teams heading to the High Passes. And we’ll foul each other up. And we might get kill-thieves. Actual [Thieves]—even conflicts with other adventurers.”

Halrac was grousing, unable to admit that he was in a good mood. Briganda, clearly trying to get back into full adventurer-mode, was nodding.

“I hear you, Everam. I mean—I’m out of practice, so Revi, Typhenous?”

The two laughed.

“You’ve been in the team longer than we have, Briggy! Speak your mind!”

“It does sound really like a trap. Who put that ridiculous bounty up? And why? I’ve been speculating with some of the old guard. But it’s a chance, and you know us…”

The [Scout] frowned.

“I just don’t like being one of the many. Griffon Hunt took a risk on Liscor and it paid off because we were first. But if there was just one request we could take while everyone focused on the big, obvious score…”

He trailed off. Briganda scratched her head.

“I’ve seen nothing with numbers like that, Halrac. You might as well go after one of the Goblin Chieftains in the north, and that’s a lesser payout by far. There are a few Gold-rank offers, and I can remember one funny one—but nothing that pays anything. Heh. They were offering ‘deferred payment’ in exchange for later rewards. Might as well say we’re adventuring for exposure and fame.”

The other adventurers had to groan or chuckle at that. No indeed. Gold-ranks needed to be paid for their risks. Briganda slapped her thighs as Cade leaned against her, yawning.

“Cade’s sleepy. And I need to tell everyone about this. Can I call on you in a bit?”

“Sure. We’ll have to organize…the situation with Cade. But as I said, we have a route straight back to Liscor. Hopefully we can intercept Erin, and get a few day’s jump on everyone else.”

“Halrac, you delight me. Subterfuge from you?”

Typhenous exclaimed, grinning behind his beard. Briganda had to pace back and forth as she held Cade who was yawning.

“I am so excited for this. It’s been too long! I’ll meet you in…an hour, okay? I can put Cade to bed, get a babysitter—I’ll still be hiring those! Maybe we can even get some with us?”

“It sure beats Erin and her inn. Dead gods, imagine if that skeleton was still about? Best nursemaid. Free.”

Revi muttered. Halrac nearly snorted out his drink. He put down his mug, wiping his mouth.

“It’ll be good to see her. And if the Halfseekers do arrive—we could even intercept them, get the door here faster. I don’t know what’s taken them. But either way, we might beat all but the local teams to the High Passes. Again, I don’t like risking us especially because they’re a Weyr up there. One wrong move and we’re not fighting a few Wyverns, but a Greater Wyvern, and a few hundred Wyverns.”

His team sobered. That was what Griffon Hunt was good at, weighing the odds. Revi nodded slowly.

“We’ll look into it. But for now—we can take some time off, right?”

“Right. We’ll catch Briganda up on the…situation and speculation later. Tonight, we celebrate.”

Griffon Hunt tapped each other’s mugs. Typhenous wiped his mouth and smiled.

“And to do that, I think we should have a night on the town. Perhaps with Cade, although I fear it might be too adult for him.”

Revi eyed her teammate.

“…Do you mean a brothel?”

“No. The theatre, Revi. The Players of Celum are apparently far better than when we knew them! And they have new plays!”

The other two adventurer’s eyes lit up. Halrac paused.

“I thought obtaining tickets was impossible?”

“For tonight? And cheaply? Certainly impossible, Halrac. For anyone but good friends of Jasi and Wesle. I assume they’d remember us. And it might be worth a shot.”

“I would. How good are the plays?”

Halrac had something of an affection for some of the theatre he’d seen. And Revi wouldn’t mind it either—especially to treat Briganda to the plays. Typhenous smiled.

“Good enough to have the entire city demanding more? To have people reselling tickets? Halrac, consider that the [Actors] may have leveled. I think we should try and seek the Players of Celum out while we wait for Briganda to get back to us. Any opposed?”

There were none. And Griffon Hunt marched out of the pub where they’d been drinking to find some…well, free tickets.

It turned out to be harder than they thought. For one thing—while everyone knew where the Players of Celum were now located, the theatre, the Season Theatre, which sounded rather close to ‘Solstice’, or an homage of sorts, was guarded from anyone 