In the weeks that follow, I do not speak to or even see Luna or Ren. Whether they’re avoiding me or tending to business of their own, I can’t say... and I don’t seek them out either. I've my own pursuits to focus on.

  I pore over Lucien’s scroll day after day, tracing each rune with aching fingers, repeating their shapes until they haunt my sleep. Whatever path I’ve begun, it demands commitment and I give it. All that I have.

  Meanwhile, Ravencroft suffers.

  The fires were extinguished quickly, but the wounds run deep.

  The brigands made off with more silver than the town had seen in a season, stripping storerooms bare and carts to the axle, food, arms, tools, even bolts of wool and grain sacks torn open and scattered. But worse by far was the toll in flesh and skill.

  Carpenters, smiths, bakers, traders... gone. Some dead, others fled. Merchants whisper about relocating. Word of the attack spreads downriver, and fewer wagons cross the town’s gate. Coin grows scarce, tempers short. The mayor holds daily militia drills to reassure the people, but fear still hangs over the streets.

  Even as an outsider, it's difficult to ignore. Even as my training continues, harsher than ever.

  "Hrnnghh!!!"

  My arms tremble as I block a powerful blow, my club groaning as I'm sent skidding back across the stone floor. My muscles burn with exertion, my body beaten and bruised. But my bones remain unbroken. Progress.

  Zaenith lowers her weapon and fixes me with a flat stare. "Take up your spear."

  I lower my club to my belt and take up Philip's spear.

  The spear… Zaenith's favored weapon.

  The moment she saw it in my hands, she made sure to see me trained in its use.

  My stance is long and narrow, the left foot forward, knees bent. I hold the spear in both hands, rear hand near the butt of the shaft, forward hand a third of the way up, just as Zaenith taught me.

  She drills me relentlessly, every day. Spear against sword, spear against spear, spear against axe. I learn to keep my distance, to lunge and retreat, to twist the shaft to redirect a blade, and how to recover when someone closes in.

  We continue to train similarly with the club, my sidearm, and in truth, perhaps the more essential weapon. I won’t always have a spear in hand. While my club I can keep to my belt in most situations. At this point the weapon's seen so much use, in battle and in training, that it's becoming worn.

  "Fuck-"

  As the final blow is blocked and my stance wavers, Zaenith lowers her weapon and gives a short nod of approval. Without a word, she steps away. I exhale, drenched in sweat and bruises.

  "That’s all for today." she says curtly, setting aside her wooden cudgel.

  I blink in disbelief, breath ragged. "It’s not even noon."

  "Edwin has requested your presence."

  I stiffen. "The mayor? Why?"

  She turns her back on me and plucks a glass vial from the shelf, inspecting its contents, before adding it to her pouch. "Something about the brigands."

  I frown. "I see...."

  A thought grows in my mind. "Why haven't you done anything about them? These brigands have been plaguing your town for a while now."

  She lets out a quiet snort, not turning around. "The plight of peasantry is not my concern."

  I fold my arms. "Don’t you rely on trade? For ingredients and supplies? Doesn’t it affect you when merchants get robbed?"

  She pauses, her hand resting on a large flask. "If the reagents I require become unavailable... perhaps then I’ll dispose of the brigand curs. But I will not require more for many months yet."

  With that, she waves a hand dismissively. "Go. The mayor is expecting you."

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  I reach the mayor’s house and push through the heavy iron gates. Out front, Gandre and Daniel are locked in a sparring match, both clad in armor, crossing blunt training blades with skill and finesse.

  Their swords clash with a metallic ring, echoing through the quiet courtyard. Daniel moves with aggressive flair, his strikes wide but forceful, just as skilled as I remember. Gandre, by contrast, is calm and efficient, his parries are tight, his counters precise. He shifts his weight with purpose, every motion controlled, clean.

  So this is where he learned to fight…

  Daniel is the first to notice me. He glances my way, eyes narrowing slightly, a tinge of disdain still lingering behind them. But he offers little more than that. Since the raid, he’s carried himself with a tighter rein, with greater control.

  Gandre catches his gaze and turns, offering a polite nod as he spots me.

  I stop a short distance away from the two of them.

  "The mayor sent for me," I say simply.

  Gandre nods. "Aye. Come in. The others will be arriving shortly."

  I raise an eyebrow. "Others?"

  "Yes, it won't be long now," he replies, turning toward the manor.

  I fall in behind them as we head inside. The house is just as grand as I remember, thick wooden beams, polished floors, and stone walls adorned with faded banners and taxidermy. A massive boar’s head snarls from above a fireplace. Long-handled weapons hang between mounted shields. My eyes linger on a heavy steel mace set on a display rack, thick, brutal, beautifully crafted. I feel a pang of envy as we pass it by.

  We stop at the foyer. Gandre, gives me a hard slap on the back, his face rough but not unkind. "How’ve you been holding up lad?"

  I give a tired grin. "Terrible. Zaenith gave me a working over this morning."

  Gandre chuckles, then glances at the weapon at my belt. "She teaching you the club? I noticed the cudgel was your weapon of choice in the tournament."

  I nod and draw it. "Yeah. Took it off one of the brigands I killed, their leader."

  Better not mention Philip’s spear.

  He takes a look, turning it over in his hands. "Not bad. Worn, though."

  "It’s been seeing a lot of use lately. Mostly on Brigand skulls and trying to shield me from Zaenith."

  He snorts. "You ought to get yourself a proper mace."

  "Yeah, well, if I had the coin..."

  Gandre thinks for a moment, then offers, "I’ve got an old one lying around. It’s seen better days, but still solid. Three silvers."

  I pause, then nod. "I’ll think about it."

  Daniel rolls his eyes at the conversation, but his scowl fades the moment he notices something outside. Two figures approaching the manor. A man and a woman.

  He strides quickly to the door, throwing it open with an overly warm smile. "Lady Luna, welcome to my home. It is a pleasure to see you again."

  As the two step inside, Luna’s sharp golden eyes flick across the room, unreadable. Ren offers a polite nod.

  Daniel’s gaze, however, never leaves Luna. The tight leathers she always wears hug her lithe frame like a second skin, and he drinks in the sight with thinly veiled hunger.

  Gandre clears his throat, his gravelly voice carrying with a rough-edged respect. "Right then, sirs, my lady. Kindly wait here a moment, I'll inform the mayor of your arrival. Lunch’ll be served shortly."

  He gives a short, respectful nod, his eyes flicking briefly to Luna, before turning on his heel and heading down the hall.

  Ren pays him a glance before stepping over to me, his eyes scanning my frame with quiet interest. "Hmm... Your build has improved. An impressive gain in such little time. You’ve been training hard."

  I nod, a little proud. "Yeah. Every day."

  It’s hard to notice progress when you’re living it and of course Zaenith would never say anything, but if Ren sees it, it must be true.

  I'm glad.

  "And you? What have you been up to?"

  Ren chuckles softly. "Ah... nothing to speak of in a place such as this."

  He says no more, leaving it at that.

  Beyond Ren, I spot Luna and Daniel. Daniel stands close, one hand resting against the stone wall just beside Luna’s head. The torchlight flickers along his golden hair, casting warm shadows across his handsome features. His voice is low, smooth like honeyed wine.

  "It’s little wonder no man has claimed you yet. A woman like you, sharp, beautiful, too clever by half for any man in this town."

  Luna closes her eyes, sighing. "And you think you're different?"

  Daniel chuckles, leaning just a little closer. "Most certainly, my lady. And I'd be more than happy to prove it to you."

  Her eyes open, flicking over his face, slow, thoughtful.

  I wonder if they ended up having that dinner…

  Ren watches beside me with a smile. "Ah, he’s a handsome one, isn’t he? A face every noble mother prays their daughter will marry." He chuckles at my grimace. "And it seems dear Luna finds him appealing."

  Must be nice... Damn. Why is my face so boring?

  Daniel dips his head slightly, closing in. "Of course, I'd court you properly first. That is, if you want me to."

  Luna doesn’t reply at first. Then, slowly, she exhales, lips parting.

  "I'd rather you didn't."

  Daniel, still leaning over her with that insufferable smirk, takes the rejection in stride “Are you certain?”

  Luna doesn’t hesitate. “I am. Now could you get your insufferable, slack-jawed face out of mine before I start thinking about ways to make it uglier?”

  Daniel steps back, but with a grin. Neither the insult nor the threat, dulling his desire. With a half-bow and a glint in his eye, he says smoothly, "As the lady commands, so shall I obey… for now. But know I’ve never been one to surrender after the first parry." He flashes a smile that’s just this side of sincere, brushing a strand of hair from his brow.

  "Hmph"

  Without another glance his way, Luna turns and strides toward Ren with elegant fury. She stops beside him and finally glances toward me, nodding with indifference.

  "Seven."

  Before I can return my greeting, Gandre returns, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor as he enters. He clears his throat before speaking. "Apologies for the wait, good sirs, my lady. The mayor is ready to receive you now. If you’ll follow me."

  Results

  + 1 Skill

  + 1 Strength