Chapter 17

  Crown Guild. Argus Branch

  Philip set down his coffee cup and stared at the report on his desk, his weathered hands trembling slightly. Twenty years with the Crown Guild, and news like this still made his stomach churn.

  The parchment, while neat, was still damp from the messenger's hurried ride.

  Millbrook Village. Population: 247. Status: Destroyed.

  No survivors were located.

  "Damn it," Philip muttered, running a hand through his graying red hair. The red hair that had earned him the nickname "Crimson" in his younger days had faded to rust, but his green eyes remained sharp as he read through the document for the third time.

  The report continued in neat, precise handwriting: Witness testimony from a traveling merchant indicates the presence of Drakmoor elite cavalry. Black steel armor with red trim confirmed. Estimated fifteen to twenty mounted knights.

  Philip stood and walked to the narrow window overlooking the guild courtyard. Below, a handful of junior mages practiced basic wind manipulation under the watchful eye of Instructor Caldris

  Simple exercises—moving leaves, redirecting small objects. The kind of controlled, regulated magic that kept the peace.

  The kind of magic the Crown Guild existed to maintain.

  And the peace he'd sworn to protect.

  His reflection stared back from the glass, showing a man who'd aged considerably in the past year. The Eastern Empire's steady advance had everyone on edge, and now this. Drakmoor making aggressive moves while the five kingdoms were supposed to be united against a common threat.

  Politics, he thought bitterly.

  While he might be the guild master, he felt laughably weak—the title was just that, a title. It was still the nobles who ruled from behind the scenes, pulling strings like puppet masters. Every decision had to be approved, every action scrutinized by men who'd never held a staff or faced down a rogue mage.

  Dogs, he thought bitterly. That's all we are to them. Well-trained dogs who heel on command and fetch their political objectives.

  The Crown Guild was supposed to be independent, neutral. But independence was hard to maintain when your funding came from royal coffers and your authority existed only at the pleasure of five different kings.

  A soft knock interrupted his brooding. "Enter," he called without turning.

  "Sir?"

  Philip turned to see his assistant, a young woman named Clara. Her brown hair was pulled back in the practical style favored by guild clerks, and she held a steaming mug in her hands.

  "What is it, Clara?"

  "The morning reports came in. Thought you might want to see them before the council meeting."

  Philip nodded, accepting the papers she offered. More routine stuff, mostly. A merchant complaining about bandits on the eastern trade route. Some farmer near the border requested help with what he claimed was a "demon pig" but was probably just an unusually large boar.

  But the Millbrook report sat on his desk like a lead weight.

  "Sir?" Clara was studying his face with concern. "Is everything alright?"

  Philip paused for a moment, before continuing. “ Tell me, have you heard of Millbrook?”

  Clara tilted her head thoughtfully, one finger tapping against her chin—a habit she'd developed when accessing her encyclopedic memory of guild records and personnel files.

  "I have," she said after a moment. "Small farming village, If I'm not mistaken, Marcus from Silver Wings is from that village."

  Her expression shifted as she caught something in his tone. " Did something happen?"

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  Of course. Marcus of Millbrook—one of the capital's rising stars and probably the most promising young adventurer they'd seen in a decade.

  The young man was officially listed as B-rank in the guild registry, but that was pure technicality. Guild regulations required a certain number of completed quests and time in service before promotion, regardless of demonstrated skill.

  Marcus simply hadn't been active long enough, being barely nineteen years old. But Philip had witnessed his combat evaluations personally, had seen him spar against seasoned A-rank veterans and hold his own.

  The boy was already fighting at A-rank level, which was almost unheard of for someone his age.

  And his party, Silver Wings? Consist of four seasoned A-rank adventurers in their thirties, plus Marcus. They were practically legends in the making, famous throughout the capital for their flawless mission record and their tendency to take on jobs other parties wouldn't touch..

  "Clara," Philip said slowly, his voice heavy. "Send word to the Adventurer's Guild immediately."

  "Of course, sir." Clara nodded solemnly.

  =====

  We broke through the tree line around midday, and I got my first real look at the road.

  It was nothing like the smooth asphalt highways I was used to. This was packed dirt with wagon ruts worn deep from years of use. Grass grew along the edges, and I could see animal droppings scattered here and there.

  But it was definitely a road. It stretched north and south as far as I could see, with wooden signposts at regular intervals.

  "There we go," Henrik said with satisfaction. "Oakenford's about three days south. Should be good walking if the weather holds."

  I looked up at the sky. Gray clouds were starting to gather, but nothing that looked immediately threatening.

  Navigating the forest had been easier than I'd expected, thanks to Henrik and the other villagers' experience with these woods. They knew which paths to avoid, where the ground got too marshy, and how to read the subtle signs that marked safe routes.

  Of course, Fei had helped a lot too. Having an aerial scout made all the difference—he'd spot obstacles or dangerous terrain long before we reached them, letting us adjust our path accordingly.

  My monsters had definitely earned their keep on the way out. We'd encountered quite a few creatures lurking in the deeper parts of the forest. A pack of those razor-toothed rabbits had tried to ambush us near a stream crossing, but Nox and Orion made quick work of them. Even G1 and G2 had gotten into the action when a particularly aggressive boar decided we looked like easy prey.

  The survivors had watched with a mixture of awe and relief as my monsters handled each threat without breaking a sweat.

  "Good thing we have you with us," Marta had said after watching Orion take down what looked like an oversized badger with venomous claws. "I don't think we would've made it out on our own."

  I smiled.

  We also looted the monsters that were definitely edible. We did our best to preserve the meat, cutting it into strips and using salt from my salvaged supplies to cure what we could for the journey ahead.

  The preserved meat wasn't going to win any cooking contests, but it was protein we could count on. And after living in the forest for over a week, I'd learned not to be picky about food as long as it kept me alive.

  We walked at a steady pace, taking breaks when needed. Sometimes when my feet got tired, I'd ride on Nox's back.

  The same could be said for the villagers, especially Emil and Henrik. Emil being just a kid, his little legs couldn't keep up with adult strides for long. Henrik, with his old knee injury acting up on the hard-packed road, needed the relief too. Both of them took turns riding on Orion and my golems.

  The golems handled the extra passengers without any trouble—they were built for strength, after all. And Orion seemed to actually enjoy having Emil ride him, his tail wagging slightly whenever Emil laughed.

  Then night came. We made camp at the roadside, finding a small clearing just off the main path.

  G1 and G2 immediately got to work clearing rocks and fallen branches, creating a decent camping area in minutes. The efficiency of having stone golems for manual labor was honestly amazing—what would've taken us an hour by hand was done before I could even gather kindling for a fire.

  "Never seen anything like them," Tormund muttered, watching the golems stack stones into a neat fire ring. "Don't they ever get tired?"

  "Nope.” I said, striking sparks into the prepared tinder.

  Marta settled Emil into a nest of grass and their spare clothes, the little boy already rubbing his eyes sleepily. The day's walk had worn him out, even with the rides on Nox's back.

  "We'll need to keep watch," Henrik said quietly, settling down with a wince as his knee protested. "Road's generally safe, but you never know what might wander out of the forest at night."

  "Don't worry about it," I said, watching as Nox positioned himself at the edge of our camp."My monsters will handle the watch.”

  Henrik looked relieved.

  Come to think of it, I hadn't worried about night watches since I'd created my first monster.

  Not that I had to worry much anyway—my monsters were incredibly sensitive to threats. Their hearing and smell were way better than any human's, and they could sense danger long before it became a problem.

  There'd been plenty of times during our week in the forest when monsters tried to ambush us. A pack of shadow cats that thought they were being sneaky. Some kind of giant centipede that had been stalking us for hours. Even a few of those razor-rabbits that tried to coordinate an attack while we were sleeping.

  But my monsters always knew they were coming.

  And thankfully, they beat them easily every time. It wasn't even close—most forest monsters weren't prepared to deal with organized, intelligent opposition. Especially not D-rank monsters working as a coordinated team.

  "Get some rest, everyone," I said, settling down near the fire. "We've got another long day ahead of us tomorrow."