The board was a patchwork of parchment, scribbled handwriting, and official guild stamps. Every sheet promised danger, coin, or a chance to prove themselves. Josh traced a finger along the edges of one poster, brow furrowed.

  “There’s more variety than I expected,” he said quietly.

  “Yeah,” Brett agreed, leaning in. “But also… a lot of rubbish.” He tapped one paper about delivering hay bales. “This is beneath even us.”

  Carcan ignored them, eyes sharp as she scanned each listing. “We need something that still challenges us. Enough to push our levels, but not enough to get us killed.”

  Bheldur, meanwhile, was far more enthusiastic. “I say we take half the board. Clear the whole region. Become legends before lunch.”

  “Or corpses,” Carcan muttered.

  Perberos chuckled, arms folded. “Perhaps we start smaller.”

  Together they pulled down the most promising sheets, laying them out on a nearby table. A missing hunter. A disturbed shrine in the hills. A pack of large wolves harassing farmers. A strange buzzing noise coming from a copse of trees near the river.

  Josh looked over them all, feeling the smallest spark of excitement. Even after everything with the goblin dungeon, adventure still called to them.

  “All right,” he said. “We pick two or three. Enough to keep us moving.”

  Brett nodded. “Enough to earn coin.”

  Bheldur grinned. “Enough to hit something.”

  After a few minutes of debate, teasing, and vetoes, the group finally settled on their choice. Nothing world-ending, nothing beyond them – just the sort of quest that would rebuild their pace, grow their skills, and ease them back into life outside the chaos of a dungeon.

  Quest Posting: Wolf Pack Containment

  Rank: Iron

  Recommended Level: 12 to 14

  Location: Northern woodland trails and farmlands near Ashenfall

  Contact: Ranger Halden Rook

  Reward: 42 silver per adventurer, with bonus for confirmed dire wolf elimination or proof of pack dispersal, plus bounty on wolf tails.

  Description:

  Local farmers and hunters have raised urgent concerns about an aggressive wolf pack roaming the northern woodlands. Livestock losses have increased over the past ten days, and several travellers report being shadowed along the trails at dawn and dusk. The Guild believes the pack has grown bold due to a shortage of natural prey and the recent dungeon surges.

  A shepherd reports witnessing a wolf nearly the size of a pony. The Guild has not confirmed this sighting, but such a size suggests the presence of a young dire wolf or an alpha undergoing early stage mutation. Iron-ranked adventurers are requested to investigate and reduce the threat before the pack begins targeting unarmed villagers.

  Threat Assessment:

  The woodland hosts ordinary grey wolves, though they are known to coordinate in groups of four to seven. Recent tracks indicate heavier prints and deeper claw rakes on tree bark, supporting the possibility of a larger specimen. The wolves are likely aggressive, territorial, and may exhibit mana-induced behaviour. Adventurers should watch for ambush tactics and flanking manoeuvres.

  Primary Objectives:

  ? Track the wolf pack responsible for livestock attacks.

  ? Assess whether the pack includes a developing dire wolf.

  ? Cull or disperse the wolves to restore safety in the region.

  ? Return a detailed report or proof of the alpha’s removal.

  Completion of this quest will increase Guild standing and earn the gratitude of the Ashenfall farmers.

  Nodding, the party agreed and took the slip to Mich, who took the quest and stamped them with her seal. "Right. If you're taking this, I'll mark them under your party. Nothing too dangerous, and you’ll earn some coin without pushing yourselves too much."

  Bhel clapped his hands together. "Perfect. A day without goblins trying to chew my ankles."

  "Yea… just wolves trying to chew on your head instead," Perberos quipped back.

  Bhel refused to make eye contact.

  Mich passed the stamped quests to Josh. "Take the day. Rest. Get your feet back under you. Rochelle will be pleased you're not storming another dungeon already." She smirked. "Well. Pleased-ish."

  They agreed easily. A slow day wouldn’t kill them. Probably.

  After a late breakfast and some time sprawled across the guild’s common benches like exhausted housecats, the conversation lulled into contented quiet. Eventually Brett stretched his arms high above his head.

  "Suppose we should actually do the things we said we’d do today."

  "In a bit," Josh said, eyes half-closed. "Five more minutes."

  But five minutes turned into twenty, and twenty into half an hour, until finally they exchanged sleepy glances and nodded.

  "Alright," Carcan said gently. "We split up for a few hours. Gather what we need, prepare, rest. Then meet back here."

  They parted ways, not out of necessity, but because it felt good to simply wander, breathe, and settle back into normal life, even if only for an afternoon.

  Brett and Josh made their way through the now familiar streets of Ashenfall, the mid-morning sun casting warm light across the cobbles. Their steps slowed as the sign of the Bull’s Head swung gently above the door, its carved wooden bull’s face as welcoming as ever.

  "Feels weird coming back not half-dead," Brett muttered.

  "Speak for yourself," Josh said. "My head still feels like it’s packed with gravel."

  They pushed through the door, and the comforting scents of seasoned wood, roasted meat, and old ale washed over them. The tavern was quieter than usual as it wasn’t yet lunchtime but a few regulars sat in their usual spots, nursing mugs.

  Garrik stood behind the counter, polishing a tankard with all the ferocity of a man trying to intimidate metal into shining. The moment he spotted them, his thick brows shot up.

  "Well I’ll be damned! Look who survived!" he boomed.

  Barb poked her head out from the kitchen, flour on her cheek. "About time you two came back in here! We were this close to sending out a search party." She held her thumb and forefinger barely apart.

  Josh grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "We just wanted to stop by and… say thanks. For everything. The gear you gave us—"

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  He pulled the battered helm from his bag and held it up. "This saved me in more ways than I can explain. Thought you’d want it back."

  Garrik’s expression softened with something like pride before he barked a laugh. "Take it back? Lad, that old helm deserves better than sitting in this dusty old place, it deserved to see sunlight. And blood. Keep it. Good to know it’s kept you safe and helped keep the town safe. Plus you’ve got it all dirty, I wouldn’t want it back now."

  Josh blinked, momentarily thrown. "You’re sure?"

  "Aye! And if you try to leave it here, I’ll nail it to your head, see if that knocks any sense into you."

  Brett snorted.

  Garrik waved them toward a table. "Sit, sit! Barb, bring out something hearty, and two ales!"

  "One ale," Brett said quickly, pressing a hand to his stomach. "Just… one. And maybe not hearty. Maybe… gentle?"

  Garrik looked him over and cracked a grin. "Someone lost a fight with a bottle last night, eh?"

  "No comment." Brett slid into the nearest chair like a man recovering from war.

  Josh, on the other hand, perked right up when Barb returned with a tray of thick-cut bread, steaming stew, and two wide mugs of frothy ale.

  "If he won’t eat it," she said, nodding toward Brett, "you better."

  "Gladly," Josh said, already tearing off a piece of bread.

  Brett watched him with a mixture of admiration and nausea. "I don’t know how you function like this."

  "High constitution," Josh replied through a mouthful.

  Garrik pulled up a stool beside them. "So. You two were in that goblin-sick forest, aye? That’s the talk." He thumped a fist on the counter approvingly. "Heard good things."

  Josh and Brett exchanged a glance, then began recounting the past few days' events, the dungeon, the runs, the goblin boss, the chaos, the victories, the stabilising portal. Garrik’s eyes widened at some points, narrowed at others, but he listened to every word with rapt attention - along with most of the pub's patrons.

  "Sounds like a hell of a job, well done," he said at last. "You lot did more than most teams with twice the time adventuring could handle." He folded his arms, both impressed and worried. "But you’re heading out again soon, then?"

  Brett nodded. "We’re going to try to level up some more. Then—"

  Josh finished for him. "Then we’re aiming to help with the undead dungeon. The one the others are struggling with."

  Garrik’s smile faded into something more solemn. "A dark place, that. Too dark. Even the veterans are muttering about it." He let out a slow breath, then clapped Josh on the shoulder hard enough to make him wobble. "But if anyone’s daft enough to poke their noses in there and come back alive… it’s probably you fools."

  "We’ll take that as encouragement," Brett said.

  "Do," Garrik replied. "And take care. Roads are calmer, but this world’s never safe. Not for long."

  Josh lifted his mug. "We’ll be ready."

  "I’ll hold you to that," Garrik said, raising his own mug in return.

  The pair spent a bit more time talking through their experiences with Garrik before bidding their farewells, promising to come back that evening. After leaving the Bulls Head, Brett and Josh slipped back into the gentle rhythm of Ashenfall, the kind that felt almost foreign after days of tension and combat. The town was alive with its usual midday bustle, traders calling out prices, carts rumbling over packed dirt, the distant clatter of a blacksmith’s hammer. Yet, beneath it all, there was a sense of calm they hadn’t realised they’d missed.

  Their next stop was The Long Road Provisioner.

  The wooden sign above the door creaked softly in the breeze, painted with a faded caravan and a long winding path. Inside, the shop smelled of spices, leather, and something earthy Brett couldn’t quite place.

  Bapuck, the squat, copper-skinned halfling who ran the store, perked up the moment they entered. His eyes, sharp as flint and twice as bright, took them in, and a broad grin spread across his face.

  "Ah! The goblin-slayers return!" he said, hopping onto a crate so he could lean comfortably on the counter. "You look less likely to keel over than last time. Good! That means you’re here to spend coin."

  Brett laughed. "We, uh, might be. We need to restock food. A lot of it."

  Josh nodded vigorously. "I swear this place is the best thing I've ever found. Real food. Actual flavour. Nothing dried to a shoe."

  Bapuck placed both hands proudly on his chest. "Only the finest trail goods this side of the river. And yes, young warrior, my food does indeed have flavour." He winked.

  The pair stocked up on everything: hearty travel bread, smoked fish, dried fruits, spiced nuts, preserved meats, even a jar of something Bapuck called "fireberry relish" that Josh wasn’t fully convinced wasn’t just poison.

  By the time they stepped back into the sunlight, carrying heavy sacks of food that quickly vanished into their satchels.

  "Worth it," Brett said, hugging a small box of what he insisted were the best biscuits in the world.

  "You haven’t even tried them yet," Josh pointed out.

  "I can feel it in my soul."

  From there, the day slipped by in a slow, easy haze.

  They wandered aimlessly, stopping to watch a group of children pretending to fight a dragon made of stacked barrels. They browsed market stalls brimming with trinkets, herbs, and colourful fabrics Josh swore Carcan would love before he spent several minutes talking to a local carpenter about spear hafts before realising he didn’t actually need a spear.

  For once, no one was rushing them. No one was shouting warnings about mana surges or goblin scouts or unstable portals.

  It was the first time in weeks that the world felt still. "Feels weird, doesn’t it?" Brett said as they strolled past the quiet riverbank.

  Josh nodded slowly. "Yeah. Peaceful. Like… actually peaceful."

  "I kinda forgot what that felt like."

  They shared a quiet moment, letting the sun warm their faces, the water trickling softly nearby.

  Eventually, they turned back toward the heart of Ashenfall, ready to regroup with the others and settle into whatever the next day would bring.

  The sun hung low in the sky, warm light stretching across the rooftops of Ashenfall as Brett and Josh made their way back toward the Adventurers Guild. The familiar building sat like a welcome anchor after everything they had endured, its lanterns already glowing to life as evening crept in.

  Inside, the atmosphere felt unusually lively. A handful of parties were gathered around tables, sharing drinks and exaggerated stories, and the moment the pair stepped inside, several adventurers raised hands in greeting. There were nods of respect, a few quiet cheers, and even a slap on Josh’s shoulder from a warrior who he’d never met.

  They found the others gathered at one of the corner tables. Carcan was the first to spot them, waving them over with a tired but bright smile.

  "There you are. How’d the rest of the day go?" she asked.

  Brett and Josh sat down, exchanging small updates, before Carcan’s expression shifted, the brightness dimming.

  "I… ran into Zolma earlier," she said softly.

  Josh felt his posture tighten. Brett’s eyes flicked up immediately.

  Carcan let out a long breath. "She’s quitting the guild. She already handed in her tag."

  For a moment neither Brett nor Josh said a word. The noise of the guild seemed to dull around them.

  Carcan continued, voice gentler than usual. "She’s joining the Healers Guild instead. Says she can’t keep adventuring. Not after everything."

  Josh leaned back, jaw tightening. He pictured Zolma’s shaky smile from their last outing, the way her hands trembled whenever healing magic surged through them, the haunted look she tried to hide when talking about the days fighting.

  "She’s… not wrong to leave," Brett murmured. His voice cracked ever so slightly. "It’s been brutal. She shouldn’t have had to go through half of what she did. I think we’d all struggle with that loss. I don’t know what I’d do if I saw one of you die."

  Carcan nodded. "She said she felt like she was always a step behind everyone else. Like every time she cast a spell, she was choosing to maybe not save someone later. That it was too much pressure for her heart to handle."

  Josh swallowed hard. He remembered the moment they’d found Zolma in the camp battle. He remembered the tears in her eyes, spilling even as she apologised to Koz'ru for not being able to save him.

  He breathed out slowly. "I just hope she knows she wasn’t a burden. Not once."

  Carcan’s eyes softened. "She knows. She really does. She said you two especially made her feel welcome. Like she belonged here… even if the work itself didn’t."

  Brett looked away, blinking rapidly, pretending to rub something from his eye.

  Josh reached across the table, placing a hand briefly on Brett’s arm.

  "She chose a good path," Josh said quietly. "A safer one. And she’ll help people. Probably more than we ever could."

  Carcan hesitated before adding, "Vokal didn’t come back either. He stayed at the goblin dungeon. Joined up with one of the adventurer groups from Verentide. Seems he’s taking the opposite path and wants to fight more, not less."

  Josh gave a sad half-smile. "Figures. He didn’t seem like he was ready to give up yet."

  "Yeah," Carcan said softly. "But they both made choices that felt right for them."

  The group sat in reflective silence for a moment. The guild’s noise returned around them: laughter, clinking glasses, the shuffle of armour. But at their table, the world felt softer, almost fragile.

  Josh finally exhaled. "We’ll see her again someday. Just… not out there."

  And despite everything, he hoped that was a comfort rather than a wound.