The last traces of light from my soul realm faded, dissolving around me like mist in my mind. When my eyes opened, I was lying on something soft: rough homespun wool blankets piled on top of me. The air was cool and heavy, carrying the faint scent of smoke and old wood. Shadows pressed in from every corner of the room, broken only by the dim glow of a single ember smoldering in the hearth.

  A low, rhythmic sound reached my ears. Snrrrk… I turned my head and found Balt slumped in a chair beside the bed, chin tucked against his chest, arms crossed. His frame looked almost comical crammed into the smaller-looking rocking chair, his head bobbing slightly with each snore.

  Sitting up in bed caused me to wince. The pain in my chest had dulled some but not enough for me to move without pain. The sound I made was enough to make Balt stir in his rocking chair, but he only snorted and drifted back to sleep.

  I couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at my lips. After all the fire and blood and the crack in my soul tree, waking to Balt’s snoring felt like the most reassuring sound in the world.

  I lay back down in bed for a few minutes, just thinking of possible next steps I could take, when a knock at the door and a woman’s voice came through the wood. “Mr. Balt, are you and the swordsman hungry?”

  I stood up and walked to the door, still a little groggy from sleeping so long for the first time in a while. I opened the door to reveal a dark-haired woman holding a tray with two loaves of bread and steaming cups of what smelled like tea.

  I opened the door wider, and her face seemed to redden slightly when she looked at me. I smiled at her, thankful for the thoughtfulness in bringing up a meal. I was pretty hungry.

  I took the tray she was holding. “Thank you. My name is Riven, by the way.”

  “Wel... well met, Riven she stuttered out. I’m Carmen, and let me say on behalf of the village, thank you for all you did.” She bowed slightly and then jerked back upright for some reason; her face looked even redder now. Her discomfort confused me until I suddenly realized why she was so red-faced. Looking down at myself, I had nothing on but some makeshift underwear I had pilfered from the last floor.

  I stepped behind the door, covering myself. Excuse me, mam, I said. Trying to act casual. “I was half asleep when I heard the knock and didn’t think about my current state before answering the door.”

  “No… no, no problem she said as she turned away. When you and Master Balt are ready, the council wishes to meet and thank you in person.”

  I gave my thanks and slowly shut the door. The room dimmed again, the only light coming from the faint glow of the hearth. I set the tray of food and tea down on the small table beside the bed. Just as I was about to sit, a familiar voice rumbled from the shadows.

  “Gave that girl quite the show, didn’t you?” I smirked, shaking my head. “With the stat increases, I don’t feel cold or hot like I used to. Had no idea I was standing there in my underwear until it was too late.”

  Balt sat up with a grunt, tearing into the loaf of fresh bread. I joined him, breaking off a piece for myself.

  “So,” asked Balt between bites, “what happened at the end of that fight?”

  I picked up the cup of tea, took a long drink, and relayed everything: the crack in my soul tree, Lawson’s intervention, and the acquisition of the new passive.

  Balt froze mid?chew, eyes widening. “Holy shit. A legendary passive?!”

  “Yup,” I replied, leaning back. “I’ll have to test it, but I think it’ll help with the after?effects of my class quite a bit.”

  Balt harrumphed, shaking his head. “I’ve never even heard of someone with a legendary Talent. Don’t even know where in the System Store you’d go to find one.”

  I shrugged and sipped my tea. “Uh… Balt, where’s my gear?”

  Balt's anchor flashed, and all my equipment tumbled onto the floor with a clatter. Balt scratched the back of his neck. “I thought maybe you were wounded somewhere I couldn’t see after you collapsed. Took it off your gear but found no serious wounds to speak of.”

  I bent down, gathering the pieces, and gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

  Balt nodded, tearing off another hunk of bread. “That was a scary bastard. If you hadn’t leveled that armor of yours, that thing would have been trouble.”

  I moved to put on my gear and said. “It’s not over by a long shot, you know that. Before it died, it mentioned a master.”

  Balt sighed, pushing himself up from the chair with a grunt. “Of course it did.”

  I finished strapping on the last of my gear, the familiar weight settling across my shoulders. Together, we made our way out of the room and down the narrow staircase. The wooden steps creaked as we descended, the faint smell of hearth?smoke and baked bread drifting up from below.

  The common room of the inn was quiet at this hour, lit only by the pale light filtering through the shutters. A few villagers moved about in hushed tones, but one figure sat waiting near the center table.

  She rose as we entered. Dark hair framed a pretty face, falling in loose waves to her shoulders. She wore hunter leathers, and her brown eyes caught mine, and for a moment her face felt familiar to me, though I couldn’t figure out why. There was a softness in her expression, a kind of weary kindness. “You must be the all-powerful swordsman,” she said, her voice steady but carrying a note of hesitation.

  I smirked, "I am not all-powerful, mam, or I wouldn’t have needed that soft bed you folks let me use to recover, and please call me Riven. She smiled back at me. “My name is Sara and thank you for saving our village.”

  I felt my hand go to the back of my head awkwardly. "You're welcome, Sara. I just wish I could have saved the caravan. There were some brave people who died needlessly."

  Her smile turned melancholy, gaze flicking between me and Balt before settling back on me. “My brother was Will. I saw him guiding the wagon while you ciphered off the horde. We found his body and the others and buried them while you recovered. He’s resting with the ancestors now.”

  The air seemed to still around us. I felt my throat tighten, the memory of Will’s face flashing unbidden in my mind, the relief in his eyes as we crested the hill and the empty look when the creature threw his head to the ground like it meant nothing.

  I drew in a slow breath, steadying myself, and stepped forward. I extended my hand in a gesture that felt suddenly formal. She dipped simultaneously in a low bow. We both paused mid-motion, unsure whether to commit or adjust to the other.

  I half-lowered my hand, uncertain, but she noticed and stood a little too quickly. “Ah... sorry,” we both said in unison. Once things reset. I gave a small bow and she returned it.” “I am sorry for your loss. Will told me he had a wife. I would like to pay my respects to her as well.”

  Sara gave a small smile. “Jessica is not in the best shape at the moment, but I will relay to her your kind words, Swordsman.”

  I gave a small nod, not quite smiling. Holding out my hand again to her, “Your brother was a brave man, and though I only knew him a short time, I will miss him, and please no titles, just call me Riven,” I offered.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  She took my hand in a firm grip and shook it. “Okay, Riven, she said with a small smile. “Please follow me; the council has some questions.”

  Without waiting for our answer, she turned and began walking, her pace brisk enough that I had to lengthen my stride to keep up. Balt fell in beside me, quiet for once, though I could tell he wanted to ask Sara some questions.

  We passed through empty cobblestone streets. Dawn had not broken yet, and few people roamed the streets. Lanterns lit their path, and the light revealed stone and wood-framed shops they passed that leaned into one another as though huddling close against the wind.

  Some people were already beginning their day from the smells hitting my nose. Grilling meats, sharp and savory, roasting roots, wood smoke, and something tangy and fermented I couldn’t place.

  The few villagers we passed nodded to Sara with faint deference, and to me and Balt with what I can best describe as respect and wary curiosity.

  I kept my gaze forward, offering awkward waves to the few villagers we passed, and followed the line of Sara’s narrow shoulders as she led us deeper into the settlement.

  We moved past a cluster of shrines carved into the stone, their offerings of dried herbs and coins glinting in the lantern light, before coming to a wide slate building that stood at the village’s center. Despite it being the village council building, no guards stood watch. Sara simply walked up to the heavy-looking wooden doors and pushed. They swung inward on iron hinges with a groan. “No guards and an unlocked door?”

  Sara turned back to me. “This building belongs to everyone in the village, and we believe that what belongs to all should not be barred to anyone.” She said a little defensively.

  I held up my hands in surrender. “Not my monkey, not my circus, just making a observation. I meant no offence” She just looked back at me for a moment then walked into the building. I just looked at Balt after she walked off, and he just shrugged back at me, and we followed her into the chamber.

  The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of old stone and smoke. Though lanterns lit the chamber, shadows clung to the high rafters, retreating only where the light pressed them back. Our footsteps hushed against the worn flagstones as we entered a long, open room. At its heart stood a broad, circular table. Three figures sat around it, each turning toward us as the doors closed behind.

  “Councilors,” Sara said, her voice steady and formal. “These are the ones you requested.”

  The woman to my left rose first. Her sharp eyes looked me over, and I felt myself being weighed. The councilors’ faces bore not the lines of age but the grooves of contention, etched by years of battles fought and won with words.

  Streaks of silver, like threads of steel, cut through her dark brown hair, which was braided tight against her scalp. “I am Councilor Mylen,” she said, stepping forward with the confidence of someone long accustomed to speaking. “Have you come from the Capitol?”

  “No,” I answered, my tone even. “We’re not from there.”

  Balt shook his head beside me as I said it. I continued. “We’ve been asked that question more than once already. We are not from around here and were just passing through when we ran into the caravan under attack and chose to aid them.”

  The councilor who sat in the middle leaned forward, his chair creaking under his weight. His skin was weathered, his hands thick-knuckled and calloused, his beard a patchwork of white and grey. His eyes, though tired, carried the weight of responsibility. “Under attack, you say?”

  I relayed our encounter with the ogres and kobolds and meeting Will and the others.

  The old man sat back in his chair, raising a hand to his chin in thought. It appeared he had come to a decision as he spoke. “Since you’re not from here, allow me to shed some light on this village and the situation you’ve stepped into,” he said, his voice measured and deliberate. “We are vassals of Duke Randall, who resides in our capital, Whiterock.

  The fact that you are not of this land, merely ‘passing through,’” he lifted his fingers in air quotes, “makes me curious about your origins. But after the service you’ve done for our village, I choose to take your words not with suspicion, but in good faith. I hope you will do the same with ours.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face, weariness plain. “I am Councilor Edric, by the way. The contingent we sent for aid obviously never reached Whiterock. I feared as much. With the attack on the road you experienced, I am positive that’s what happened to our contingent. He looked at the other councilors. “I knew the Duke didn’t abandon us. He never sent aid because he never received our plea, and so knows nothing of our plight. We must send another envoy asking for aid.”

  The third councilor had remained silent until now. She was younger than the others, perhaps in her thirties, her presence quiet but commanding in its restraint. Her black robes were simple yet immaculate, and a thin circlet of polished wood rested on her brow. She regarded me with calm intensity, her dark eyes steady as still water. She stood and gave me and Balt a small bow. Which we returned. She sat back down and at last spoke. “I am Councilor Neira. The issue we find ourselves in, as you know, my fellow counselors, is that the group we sent carried the Duke’s crest, borne openly as our representatives. Fifteen of our best, mages and warriors both. We need to know what became of them… and of the crest.”

  Her gaze sharpened looking at them, the weight of her words settling over the chamber like a drawn blade.

  “I pray our people are safe, but if we don’t find that crest, the nobles will ignore our pleas as long as they can. Dukes blood or not, the rest of our people will perish.” I was confused and said so. I was never one to stay quiet when needed information was being disseminated freely. “What do you mean by the nobles will ignore you?” She fixed her gaze on me. “Nobles only remember us when it’s time to collect their taxes.

  That crest is the one thing that reminds them of our bond. Few will lift a handout of simple compassion, that crest carries more weight than our need. Without it, they’ll stall, they’ll look away, simply because they can.” Her eyes held mine for a long moment before she turned to the other councilors. One by one, they gave a small, decisive nod. “We ask this of you: find the envoy we sent, if any still live, aid them, and recover the Duke’s crest. Without it, we have no standing in court, no hope of aid.”

  Councilor Mylen leaned forward, folding her hands. “Of course, we don’t expect you to do this for nothing.” At her signal, Sara stepped forward with a small wooden box, dark-stained and iron-bound. She set it gently on the table and opened the lid.

  Inside, nestled in deep blue cloth, lay a single iron key, old but well-kept. As the lid opened fully, the air seemed to pulse, a faint shimmer of unseen power brushing against my skin.

  The glow faded, leaving only the iron key glinting in the lantern light. Councilor Edric exhaled slowly. “We sought a proper reward, and the system told us that key was the most fitting. It is yours if you accept.”

  I glanced at Balt. He gave me a single, slow nod with a smile.

  “We’ll do it,” I said. Do you have a map to show us the most likely path the contingent took?”

  Edric gestured to Sara. “I am going with you,” Sara added firmly I turned to Sara in surprise as she drew a small jade medallion from beneath her shirt. The stone caught the lantern light; its surface was etched with faint runes.

  “This is a finder stone,” she said. “It will guide us toward the Crest, though only in a general direction. I will help you retrieve it, and then you will take me to my cousin, the Duke.” “Together with your strength and my kinship, we will plead our case for aid.”

  I looked at them all. “If you are kin, will he not listen to your words without the crest?”

  Sara sighed. “It’s like Councilor Neira stated; without the crest, the bureaucrats will not let us petition the duke. We are only distant relatives. My name alone won’t grant me an audience, certainly not with the urgency our village requires.”

  I had to keep reminding myself this was not my world, and though the need for a crest to petition for aid seemed ridiculous to me; I did my best not to judge. “I will do my best to complete this task and see Sara to the Duke.” The council chamber emptied quickly after that, the iron key that was handed over heavy in my palm. I gave it to Balt, who added it to his inventory. Balt sighed as we walked.

  “What’s on your mind, my friend?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s on my mind. Fifteen warriors... gone. A powerful master lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike. And a noble system so twisted it demands a crest just to grant an audience, even when people are desperate for help. And here we are, stuck in the middle, chasing that crest. I’d wager my left nut the master behind all this is some noble, that's going to make our life hell for just trying to help these people.”

  I shrugged. “Sounds about right.”

  Balt laughed. “Well, at least we’re on the same page.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “One step at a time. Let’s find this crest and take it from there.”