It was a couple of days later that Cezar left for the capital.

  As the Ranger had said, she was going off on her own. But that hadn’t stopped Mayor Harcort from deciding to put on a show.

  Bunting was strung up all across the square and clung on buildings on the route leading to the West Gate. There were two patterns on display: a green field with a golden horse, and one that was cut diagonally from bottom left to top right - the upper one was green and the other blue.

  The golden horse was the symbol of the house of Phorsa, the rulers of the whole kingdom. Whereas the more boring one was apparently that of Gavlim.

  Got to love a bit of civic pride, Larkin thought sardonically as he looked around.

  Even in the early morning a large crowd of townsfolk had gathered, and there was a bustling air. A few enterprising souls seemed to be doing a decent trade selling snacks and drinks.

  It sure doesn’t seem that the people here are worried about this Infernal Prince, Larkin thought looking around. It’s almost as though they’re preparing for a party.

  Possibly, he figured, that was testimony to the trust that the people of Gavlim had for the Branch Head of the Adventurer's Guild.

  A large stage had been erected before the council building and Mayor Harcort gave some words about how proud the city was that ’Cezar the Relentless’ would be part of the force that would ‘drive away the terrible menace’.

  She doesn’t actually state what that menace was, he thought at the end of her speech while listening to the excited cheering. I guess even she doesn’t believe that.

  “Why did she go on so much?” Jasset groused from beside him.

  Which earned a low chuckle from Jorg.

  “Because she’s a politician.” He replied. “Doesn’t matter what the time, place, or situation; allow them the opportunity and they’ll talk till everyone else is ready to pass out.”

  That got a sigh from the other side of Larkin.

  “Do try and be less… direct, Jorg.” Gascon warned. “As acting Branch Head you should at least try not to offend the worthies of the town.”

  The four of them stood by the entrance to the Guild, which meant that they were a little away from the gathered crowd. Though unfortunately not far away enough to not hear the mayor.

  “Relax Gascon.” The Dwarf replied. “I’ll not give Harcort too much reason to come complaining to you.”

  Larkin could see Cezar, below the platform, exchange some words with the mayor still standing on it. The short stature of the Ranger gave her a false sense of vulnerability.

  And just how wrong that impression was became obvious a moment later.

  Cezar spun on her heels, gave a short wave and nod to the crowd, and then sprang away.

  “Woah!”

  The grunt escaped Larkin as the Ranger seemed to vanish from sight between one blink of the eye and the next. It was only by rapidly turning his head that he saw Cezar - moving at a blur - exciting the square and heading to the western gate.

  His surprise was echoed by the crowd, accompanied a moment later by some delirious cheers.

  I had no idea she was that fast!

  He heard Jorg give a low chuckle.

  “I knew she was going to do something like that.” The Dwarf laughed. “Cezar doesn’t like all the pageantry that the mayor wants. Surprised she didn’t do her disappearing act while Harcort was still talking.”

  Larkin had a moment of sympathy for the mayor at that point, as the woman stared at the space where the Ranger had been for a long moment - evidently unsure how to proceed. But then she turned to the side and made a gesture towards old Father Maguire who was also on the platform.

  The priest stepped forward and began a prayer in a surprisingly strong voice.

  There was a quiet rustling as everyone listened to that, but Larkin tuned it out as he stared after where Cezar had gone. She was clearly incredibly strong, she’d demonstrated that just now.

  But still…

  “Is she going to be alright?”

  The question came from Jasset, surprisingly. The dark haired girl had a worried expression on her face as she stared to the west.

  “There’s no certainty in life, lass.” Was Jorg’s less than reassuring response.

  Before he laughed and slapped the Scout’s lower arm.

  “But she’s a smart lady and a damn good Ranger. If she finds herself in any trouble she’ll have a good chance of getting out of it.”

  Larkin desperately hoped that was the case.

  The crowd soon split away after that: some stayed in place talking talking animatedly to each other, while others seemed to descend once again onto the street vendors, and others seemed to simply leave. He also saw a good number heading to the temple.

  For more prayers, he thought. I guess it gives people hope.

  “Well, that’s that.” Jorg announced, turning to regard Jasset and Larkin. “Let’s go inside. We’ve got some things to discuss.”

  The two exchanged a look before following the Dwarf and Gascon inside the guild building. The secretary went into the back rooms while Jorg hopped up to sit himself on the edge of the counter.

  “We’re going to be kept busy while all this business is taking place.” The Shieldbearer said. “Bad enough that Cezar is gone but all the other branches will have ‘donated’ key members to this thing too.”

  He gave a frustrated shake of the head.

  “And the headquarters in Haugar is likely to be even worse at coordinating than usual. I swear that they must think that all the lands outside the capital don’t exist.” He added. “Cezar reported that someone seemed to be intentionally driving monsters into Girant but the Six alone know when we might get a response. If we ever do.”

  Jorg gave a sigh, even as Gascon returned to the room.

  “Perils of living out in the boonies.” He muttered before raising his voice. “Those the reports?”

  Gascon nodded, raising three pieces of paper.

  “The two from last night.” He confirmed. “And another that arrived early this morning. It’s from Albarta.”

  Jorg nodded.

  “Close enough to the other two. Would make sense to do them all in one go.”

  Larkin was content to keep quiet during this exchange but Jasset evidently disagreed.

  “What are those, Jorg?” She asked. “More requests?”

  The Dwarf nodded.

  “Yes, more monster sightings. All to the southeast too - I bet that’s no coincidence.”

  Larkin nodded to himself; that was where the lands of Girant gave way to the wilds that were further south.

  “I’d suggest that the two of you get familiar with that area.” The Shieldbearer told them. “All the areas that border the Lesser Morass are part of the Marcher Barony of Wisal.”

  He snorted.

  “But Baroness Sharl isn’t showing any sign of returning from the capital anytime soon.” He added. “She’s barely left any guards behind her either. Happy to force Gavlim to pick up the slack.”

  The Dwarf gave a sigh.

  “Aristocrats are the same the world over.”

  With a shake of his head, Jorg turned back to them and grinned humourlessly.

  “But congratulations. You’re getting free rein on these ones.”

  Jasset’s eyes practically lit up with excitement.

  “You mean that we’re doing this on our own?”

  The girl gave a trill of delighted laughter at the Dwarf’s nod. Larkin was rather less enthused. They’d gone over the events with the Shadowclaw pack and he’d lost the sense that Jasset had tried to get him killed.

  But that didn’t mean that he thought they were now seamlessly in sync.

  “What are the requests?” He asked, trying to keep his apprehension in check.

  He was sure that Jasset didn’t pick up on his mood but Jorg gave him a quick look before replying.

  “They’re all pretty simple.” He told them, after glancing through the third one that Gascon handed him. “Monsters have shown up near villagers that haven’t seen the like for a long time.”

  “Some sort of winged monster at Strem, what sounds like a pack of monsters near Rocke, and…” The Dwarf checked the third message with a raised eyebrow. “... some sort of goat-like monster at Albarta.”

  “Have a proper read of the reports.” He added. “But remember that they’re from villagers who haven't seen any monsters closely before. Certainly not for twenty years, anyway."

  Jorg put the papers on the counter but then held up a hand.

  “But I want to be clear on one thing.” He told them. “You’ll be on your own for this job but that doesn’t mean that you’re forced to do everything yourselves. Don’t take on more than you genuinely think you can handle.”

  “Worse case, come back to Gavlim and I’ll help deal with the problem.”

  Jasset gave an audible snort at that, but the Dwarf fixed her with a steady gaze.

  “Don’t reject that option.” He scolded her. “We honestly don’t know what might come out from the Lesser Morass. What might be driven out. The monsters that we usually see around Gavlim force themselves through the Wards because they’re weak. They’d be killed by the monsters that remain in the Morass if they didn’t get out.”

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  “The weaker of the beasts are certainly manageable by someone of your level but these are not normal times - don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

  With that, he told Jasset and Larkin to plan what they were going to do and the pair headed up to the upper floor of the Guild. There was a map of the surrounding area pinned to the wall there, and the pair looked at it while planning their route.

  Though, personally, Larkin felt that the map left plenty to be desired. It gave a general sense of where things were, but held large swathes of empty spaces, was inexact about where things were, and wasn’t even to any standardised scale.

  More like a vague description of what things are like in the southeast rather than anything more accurate. He thought, giving the map a glare.

  He was used to being able to trust that what was on a map was accurate. And was finding it hard to accept the vagueness of what passed for navigation in Systemia.

  Fortunately Jasset had some more useful information.

  “We should stick to the coast to get to Strem.” The Scout told him. “I’ve been there before, it should take a couple of days at most.”

  She glanced over at the map, which had a jumble of names sprawled haphazardly along the aforementioned coastline.

  “We can get a local to show us the way east from there.” She finally said. “It will take us a bit longer as we’ll be stuck to their pace, but that area is all rough land and forested areas - getting lost would be easy. And irritating.”

  The dark haired girl shrugged. “I’ve never been to Albarta before so reckon we can take the same approach when we get to Rocke.”

  After pausing for a moment she glanced over at him.

  “What do you think?”

  Larkin thought that Systemia could really do with some sort of GPS, proper maps, and decent roads. But that didn’t seem a useful thing to raise right now.

  “Sounds good to me.” He said with a shrug. “How long do you reckon that would take - maybe six days there?”

  Jasset pursed her lips as she thought about that.

  “Yeah, six, maybe seven.” She decided. “You got any problem with heading out right away?”

  Larkin shook his head.

  “No problem from me.”

  Jasset grinned.

  “Good. I wondered if you wanted to say a prayer or something first. You’re always going there in the evening.”

  Larkin grunted, he hadn’t realised that the Scout had been keeping track of his movements.

  “That’s to see Lyzkel.” He explained. “I’m not religious myself.”

  Despite his frustrations, and continued failures to achieve anything with the Avorean’s lessons, he had decided to keep at it until he finally learned the stupid chant.

  “The Priestess?” Jasset asked, sounding surprised. “You mean, you actually know her?”

  Larkin nodded.

  “I was given a message to deliver to her from her family.” He explained, before giving her a look. “But Jorg knows her. I’d have thought he would have introduced you to her.”

  The Scout snorted.

  “He warned me away from her.” She told him. “Said that I should avoid the ‘freewheeling heresy’ she was peddling.” The girl rolled her eyes. “He was drunk at the time, mind.”

  Larkin got the sense that Jorg had actually consciously been trying to stay away from drink for the last few days. And, to be fair, the Dwarf seemed to be limiting himself to only a drink or two in the evenings.

  Of course, he could just be able to handle his drink, Larkin thought sourly. He’d have the experience.

  The pair headed downstairs to the armoury in the basement. They needed to make sure they had everything they needed for a two week trip. And Larkin took that opportunity to make sure all his other equipment was in a good state.

  His armour had survived all the fighting well enough, but he’d already had to replace his arming sword; the blade had gotten notched during the fight with the Shadowclaws.

  “What’s his deal with her then?” He asked Jasset while he was checking his spear, remembering how the Dwarf had reacted when he’d mentioned the Priestess to her.

  Not hostile, as such. He recalled. But he was obviously curious about her.

  “No idea.” Jasset replied. “He only ever says bad things about her. But pretty minor gripes, to be honest.”

  The girl flashed him a conspiratorial grin.

  “Maybe they’re lovers?” She suggested with a twinkle in her eye.

  Larkin tried to imagine the stocky Dwarf and the feathered Avorean together in that way and found he couldn’t. Though maybe that was just on him.

  I mean, mixed relationships are certainly a thing back home. He thought. This might be sort of similar, I guess?

  He glanced over at Jasset - the girl had clearly been joking about the two of them being together but hadn’t seemed to think that the mere idea of a mixed species relationship was a bad thing.

  But is that because it’s known to be an impossible thing? He wondered. Do two different species have to worry about getting pregnant?

  But then he shook his head.

  I need to focus on things that matter, he told himself.

  He didn’t know anything close enough about this world to speculate on issues like that. Especially in a place like Girant that - from what he’d seen - only had two non-human residents anyway.

  “Ready to head out?” Jorg asked them when the pair returned up to the lobby entrance of the guild.

  At Jasset’s nod the Dwarf broke into a grin.

  “Good. There’s no reason to delay.” He said. “I think that these should be straightforward jobs but remember what I told you.”

  The Dwarf then seemed to lose his good humour.

  “And keep an eye out on any more evidence that monsters might be being driven here.” He told them. “Those idiots in Haugar might be focused on other things right now, but I certainly don’t like the idea of someone being behind all this.”

  Both of them nodded, and then were soon moving.

  The streets were still crowded with people and they had to go slowly through the throng. Even the aura that all Classbearers seemed to project failed to clear their route.

  Larkin felt a sense of relief when they passed through the east gate and out from the crowds. And they were soon past the wooden structures outside the city walls and could start moving faster.

  Jasset led them along the trail but then turned south at the very first turning. Within twenty minutes of leaving the town they were running alongside a rocky path that was only a few metres away from the coast of the Arguil Sea.

  The footing was tricky - bordering on treacherous - but nothing that their Class-enhanced dexterity couldn't handle. Larkin found himself happy with the minor distractions of maintaining his balance at the pace Jasset set as he realised that he was otherwise focusing on the dark haired girl’s posterior again.

  Really? He told himself. Get a grip, man.

  The pair passed three villages before Jasset called a halt and they had a quick meal while standing up and - in Larkin’s case - admiring the view out to sea.

  Much better from here than out on it, he thought with an internal shiver.

  “I want to get to a place called Wox before it gets dark.” The Scout told him. “Jorg and I had a job there about three years ago. They’ve got a decent inn.”

  Larkin nodded.

  “Three years ago.” He repeated. “How long have you had your Class?”

  He hoped that it wasn’t a rude question, and fortunately Jasset didn’t seem to take offence from it.

  “I got it only a little before that.” She said with a shrug. “I went to Gavlim almost as soon as I got the Scout Class, and Cezar had me shadowing Jorg pretty much straight away.”

  Larkin frowned at that.

  “Wouldn’t Cezar have been a better teacher for you?” He asked.

  The Ranger Class seems closer to Scout than the Dwarf’s Shieldbearer.

  Jasset laughed at that.

  “I said the same thing.” She told him. “Said I didn’t need to learn anything from a crusty axe-wielding Dwarf.”

  She was still laughing as she started packing her things up.

  “But I was wrong. Jorg’s a great mentor.” She added. “Anyway, enough chit chatting.”

  The Scout took off again and Larkin had to hurry to keep up.

  As the coastal scenery rushed past then, Larkin found himself sinking into the simple enjoyment of it. Of moving easily across the terrain, without feeling any strain as he darted over rocky cliffs and deep ravines.

  Being so close to such perilous falls would have freaked him out when he was back on Earth. But now he could idly glance down mid-leap without any hint of vertigo. He was sure that this was partly due to the fact that - thanks to his Fighter Class - the fall was no longer as fatal as it would have once been.

  The Calm Mind Skill might also have played a role. But he didn’t let that detract from the sheer joy of it.

  Even as the day faded and turned into evening, the pair maintained their pace. Jasset would occasionally glance back at him and he realised that there was the same exalting expression in her face that he felt.

  It seemed like a comedown when the Scout came to a stop.

  “This is Wox.” She said, gesturing to a collection of cottages up ahead.

  Larkin nodded as he examined the place. The village - if he could really call it that - was clustered around a small stream that fed into the sea. There was a small wooden pier leading out into the water with a number of small boats cluttered around it.

  The villagers seemed to be all out and clustered between the cottages and the pier, and he wondered if the fisherfolk had just come back from the day’s work.

  There was a noticeable ripple of surprised motion as the villagers started to realise Larkin and Jasset were in their midst. Due to the speed of their approach, none of the locals seemed to have noticed them coming.

  Some of them seemed to recognise Jasset though, and soon the both of them were given rooms in the inn. The fishermen also offered them some food, which the Scout turned down.

  But Larkin caught a whiff of the cooking fires and enthusiastically accepted the offer. The villagers seemed happy with his acceptance, which silenced any belated concerns that they might have just been being polite.

  He was soon introduced to everyone, as well as giving them his name.

  It was as a couple of blushing girls turned away from him that he recognised just how different the reactions of the villagers here were compared to those he had met on the approach from the capitol to Gavlim.

  Maybe the difference between an unknown armed person versus someone from the guild?

  “How is Sir Jorg?” One of the older fishermen asked, and from the interested looks from several others it seemed a popular query.

  “He’s well.” Larkin replied. “But he’s temporarily in charge of the Guild in Gavlim so he’s being kept busy.”

  Whether the Dwarf was occupied by the work or the nearest tavern, Larkin chose not to specify.

  “What did Jorg do here, anyway?” He asked in turn. Jasset hadn’t really talked about that.

  His question led to a protracted recounting - packed with heroics - of the Dwarf saving the village from some sort of flying monster that had been threatening to kill the children of the village.

  And that story led to others about the Shieldbearer and his exploits in neighbouring places. If even half of the stories they told Larkin were true then it seemed that Jorg had been protecting the local area by himself for several years.

  Maybe I got it the wrong way round, he thought. It’s not because I’m from the Guild that they’re being nice, it’s because I know Jorg.

  He was still thinking about that when he begged off any more food and headed to his room in the inn. It was as comfortable as Jasset had suggested - and the hot bath was really appreciated.

  Larkin did find himself thinking about the Alchemy in use as he cleaned himself.

  According to Lyzkel, Girant was a backwater. And yet even small village inns like this one seemed to have running water. And hot water at that.

  Something to do with this ‘Holy Convention’? He wondered. Lyzkel made it seem that the temples and the royal court were limiting the spread of Alchemy.

  Jasset seemed thoughtful as they got ready the next morning as well, though for a different reason. Which she raised as soon as they left Wox behind them.

  “Why did you spend the night with those villagers?” She asked, giving him a curious look. “Don’t you get irritated by all their envy?”

  That question made Larkin blink.

  “Envy?” He repeated. “I didn’t get any of that?”

  He thought back and was sure of that. It had been a jovial atmosphere of friendliness at first, and then they had started to talk about Jorg, and it had only improved from there.

  “Of course they’re jealous.” Jasset insisted. “How could they not be? We’ve got our Classes and they haven’t.”

  He shrugged in response.

  “They seemed happy enough to me.” He replied.

  Sure, he wasn’t exactly ready to spend his life having to go out on a freaking boat. But none of them had seemed at all unhappy with that life.

  “No one can be happy living like that when there’s people like us around.” Jasset told him. “We’ve got the strength to be free, to do whatever we want. And that knowledge turns them against us. Even…”

  The girl cut herself off, ignoring his curious look.

  “It’s pointless talking about it.” She roughly said. “Let’s get going.”

  Jasset set off at her previous pace, leaving a confused Larkin to follow. He got the sense that the Scout might be bringing her own experience to this but there wasn't any opportunity to talk as the girl kept to the same pace as before.