I emerged from the sewers near the tannery, the faint stench of old leather and smoke clinging to the air. The streets of Lanton were already alive with voices, the clatter of wagons, the metallic ring of blacksmiths at work. Somewhere, a bell chimed the hour—mid-morning, probably.

  I pulled my hood up and kept moving, eyes sharp but shoulders light. The ache in my limbs was still there, buried under a layer of resolve.

  Today was the third day of Elledor’s stay with us, just two more days before he would demand Lyria’s decision. My pace quickened at the thought.

  I bumped into someone, hard, as I rounded the next corner.

  She was short and stout, I nearly toppled over her, but caught myself just in time. The expression on my face must have been priceless as I looked down, both apologetic and flabbergasted by who I’d run into. It was Margo, the dwarven adventurer that had travelled with Ron and walked with us from Tilver’s Crossing back to Lanton.

  “Watch ‘yer step Ranger!” Margo barked.

  I hopped back. “Ah—! Sorry,” I said, tipping my head.

  “What’s got ye’ in such a hurry anyway?” she asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Nothing in particular… Just headed back to meet my party.”

  She gave me a quizzical look, then stepped past with a sigh.

  “Have ye’ seen Ron lately?”

  “Yeah, maybe a few days ago. Why?” I asked, arching my brow.

  “He didn’t bloody show to our meetin’ last night,” she complained, her thick northern accent making me strain my ears to understand her words.

  “Did you check the temple?”

  “Aye, on me way there now,” Margo said, a bit impatiently.

  Obviously she would think to check there.

  “Right… Well, good luck with that,” I offered.

  She glared at me in annoyance.

  “Some help you are—” she murmured as she walked off. “And right when we’re about to hit bronze… Where’d that pious cleric run off to?”

  I watched her walk away, muttering to herself.

  I took pause for a moment, briefly considering if something had happened to Ron following our encounter in the crypt.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to worry about that.

  When I finally returned to Falcon’s Flight, I found Elledor in the courtyard—shirtless—moving through a slow, deliberate series of stretches that looked part dance, part ceremonial bowing.

  On a bench nearby, Lyria sat in the shade, doing her best to feign interest. She nodded occasionally, politely watching him, but her arms were folded, and her foot tapped a quiet, impatient rhythm against the cobblestones.

  Apart from the initial stab of annoyance, I felt a smile tug at my lips. He was practically asking for it.

  I walked over and sat down beside her with deliberate ease.

  She blinked in surprise. “Yukon—?”

  “Morning,” I said, leaning back. “Didn’t know interpretive dance was part of royal diplomacy.”

  Lyria’s hand glided up to cover her mouth. Her eyes betrayed the subtle laugh she was trying very hard not to let out.

  Elledor paused mid-stretch and turned to face me, his expression composed—but colder.

  “These movements are rooted in an ancestral discipline,” he said, voice clipped, “passed down through the moonsingers of Nualar.”

  “Ah,” I nodded solemnly. “Ancient, then. That explains its… odd rhythm.”

  Lyria coughed into her hand, clearly losing the battle.

  Elledor’s gaze darkened as he strode closer, muscles taut with annoyance.

  “And what do you know of culture, of legacy?” he asked, voice smooth as silk but edged. “You have about as much nobility as a stone… though even a stone has seen more of the world and outlived more men than you.”

  I held my hands up, a light expression of defeat crossing my features. “Aye, you’re right. Stones weather storms, carry weight, shape rivers. They’re quiet, dependable. I’ll happily take my place beneath them.”

  He smiled through gritted teeth and clenched his fists, muttering, “perhaps that could be arranged…”

  I let that sit a moment. Then met his eyes, steady. “Careful. Porcelain chips easier than stone—especially when it’s paraded around in the dirt.”

  Elledor’s eyes narrowed. “You presume too much.”

  “Probably,” I said, standing. “But you came to our town, pushed yourself into our home, and you're courting our friend like it's already settled. So if I’m out of line... maybe draw one.”

  Lyria stood abruptly, stepping between us—not with force, but enough to break the moment.

  “Alright,” she said quietly. “That’s enough posturing—for both of you.”

  Elledor blinked. “Lyria, I—”

  “Not now,” she cut in. Her gaze flicked to me, searching. Then away again.

  I nodded, letting the moment pass. For now.

  I hesitated, not wanting to leave Lyria alone with Elledor any more than I already had.

  But Lyria moved first.

  “I’m going to meet with Selene. Alone,” she said, already walking away—leaving Elledor and me standing in awkward silence.

  Our gazes drifted toward one another, only to snap away again. We both crossed our arms. Then, without a word, we walked in opposite directions.

  I stepped back into Falcon’s Flight and took a seat in the tavern, ordering food, hoping it would restore some of my energy. My fingers tapped against the wood impatiently. I needed a moment alone with Lyria—just the two of us—but it hadn’t come yet.

  A gold-ringed hand smacked the table beside me. I didn’t even flinch.

  Kaela plopped into the seat across from me, her red hair bouncing as she crossed her arms. Her golden eyes swept over me, unimpressed.

  “Nothing I’ve tried has worked,” she huffed. “I even flirted with him. Seriously! But he wasn’t having it. He’s really focused on Lyria.”

  “Yeah... he’s persistent. I’ll give him that,” I sighed.

  “And what about you?” Kaela jabbed my shoulder. “I heard you’re the one who bought her some time, but all I’ve seen since then is you moping around. Pull it together, man!”

  I rubbed my arm with a sheepish smile. She wasn’t wrong—though she’d just missed my redemption arc.

  “Don’t worry... I’m doing what I can,” I said.

  “Ugh... You better be, or that dreamy elf is going to steal your girlfriend.”

  “I—what? She’s not my—”

  Kaela held up a hand, her lips curling into a smirk.

  “Save it, Ranger. You know my door’s always open too... but I can see you’ve got your hands full at the moment. So!” She leaned back with a flourish. “I’m here to help.”

  I gave her a begrudging smile.

  “Thanks… Let’s just see where today leads. By the way, have you seen Bront?”

  “Helping out at the guild,” she replied. “They’re training up anyone who can hold a sword. That Fell nonsense is only getting worse.”

  I nodded, my smile fading. A shadow crossed my thoughts.

  My mind jumped to Margo, to Ron.

  What if he really was missing?

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  What if he…

  I didn’t finish the thought.

  I couldn’t.

  * * *

  Lyria was still off somewhere with Selene by midday. Elledor had disappeared, and Kaela had slipped out sometime after my chat with her.

  I made my way to the guild, hoping to catch up with Bront, and to see if Mary had any new information for us.

  Before I could make it to the guild, however, I noticed the streets—busier than usual—held an odd tension. Murmuring townsfolk and adventurers alike trickled out of alleys and buildings, making their way toward Lanton’s town square. I fell in line as the crowd thickened and together we all streamed into the large square.

  Squinting against the bright sun, I peered into the center where a large wooden platform stood, raised above the growing crowds. Atop the platform, flanked by guards, was a well dressed figure I didn’t recognize. Shoulder-length brown hair, slightly portly, and with an air of wealth. The man stood outfitted in Lanton’s purples and golds, gazing out at the growing audience.

  The crowd’s hushed murmuring had enough time to grow into an impatient chorus as we awaited the address.

  “That’s Mayor Redfield… what’s going on?”

  “About time he addressed the citizenry—”

  “Mommy—why do we have to wait here?”

  From the chatter I gleaned that this must’ve been the mayor. Some passing adventurers, their faces taut, walked with sweat beading their brows. Everyone who already knew what this was about, was on edge. I sucked in a breath and trained my gaze back to the raised platform. The Mayor stood unflinching, awaiting his time to speak.

  Finally, one of the guards stepped forward, sounding a horn to signify the start of the Mayor’s address.

  The Mayor took three deliberate steps right up to the edge of the platform, inhaled, and began—

  “Citizens of Lanton!” the Mayor bellowed. “Thank you all for gathering here today!”

  The crowd immediately fell silent, a testament to the influence this man held. He was second only in ranking to Baron Bradford, the Lord of Lanton.

  “Today I address you all on behalf of Lanton, and in Baron Bradford’s stead,” Mayor Redfield continued, his voice deep and resonant. “Our city faces threat of annihilation—or rather, it would, were we not the very sons and daughters of Lanton! The gem of Alvareth!”

  The crowd hesitated, as if holding its breath, and then surged with a unanimous roar, the townsfolk finding strength in his words.

  “There are Fell forces at work, hoping to chip away at our resolve, at our unity! But we will not falter! Nor will we afford them a single step forward! At this very moment Lanton’s army works with our city’s highest ranking adventurers; The Knights of Golden Light, together, they have already discovered the source of the Fell, and are moving to sever their very connection to this plane!” Mayor Redfield’s voice boomed with authority, reassurance, and finality.

  The crowd cheered again, their prior uncertainty replaced by relentless vigor, the Mayor’s words seemed to work well. He not only addressed the threat, he also reassured everyone of its inevitable resolution.

  Pausing briefly for the cheers to die down, Mayor Redfield finished strong. “We will strike before the enemy even knows we’ve found them!”

  The crowd roared in response.

  Now I understood why he had waited so long to make the address. Had he done it before the Knights of Golden Light had a lead, it would only have spurred panic.

  But something in the Mayor’s tone gave me pause. It was rehearsed. Assured. As if the battle had already been decided—by people who wouldn’t be the ones doing the dying.

  Still, this was big news. If they had truly found the source of the Fell invaders, then a battle was surely impending.

  As the crowd began to settle, Mayor Redfield moved on to more mundane matters—crop yields, taxation, and the nearing annual tournament.

  I slipped through the crowds. Having heard that address, I wanted to speak with Mary even more. I picked my way through the lingering crowd and headed back toward the Guild Hall. I noticed a glint of Silver and a streak of blue off to my right, and glanced over to see Lyria and Selene also exiting the town square.

  “Hey—you guys heard that too?” I called as I fell in step beside them.

  “Yeah, about time he told the people,” Selene said, managing a smile.

  Her eyes were still searching the crowd. “I just hope they’re right about having found the source.”

  “Why wouldn’t they be?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer right away.

  Lyria nodded in greeting, but she didn’t meet my eyes.

  Selene glanced between us and quickly said, “Let’s head to the Guild. Now is the time to check in with Mary to see what this means for the rest of us.”

  “Yeah,” I said, pretending not to notice the awkward silence settling in.

  We stepped into the Guild Hall to find it already bustling with adventurers, though it seemed we had beat the main crowd. There were three receptionists today, one of which I hadn’t seen before. A lanky young man wearing the guild’s garb, which looked two sizes too big on him. My eyes caught Mary as she trotted back and forth barking comments to passing adventurers and issuing orders to the other two receptionists dealing with the growing lines.

  Bront, spotting us, lumbered across the hall, still wearing his training armor.

  “You all heard the address then?” he said as he approached.

  “Aye, Mayor Redfield certainly doesn’t mince his words,” Selene responded.

  “Did you have a chance to talk with Mary yet?” Lyria asked.

  Bront sighed, unclipping some of his armor plates. “Not yet. I was just making my way from the training grounds when I saw you lot.”

  “I’ll get in line then—” I offered, already stepping towards the reception.

  Selene grabbed my shoulder. “That won’t be necessary.”

  I opened my mouth to question her but the three were already walking. I paused for a moment, watching as they effortlessly strolled through the agitated crowd, right up to the side of the reception desk. It was a small thing, but the way my party moved, with quiet confidence, never failed to amaze me.

  I caught up with them as we made it to the side of the desk. Mary broke away as soon as she noticed us, leaning over the polished oaken desk.

  “There you are!” Mary exclaimed. “I hate to do this to you after everything you’ve already done for us, but we need your help.”

  “What’s the situation?” Selene said, leaning in, her expression cool and collected.

  “The Knights of Golden Light are requesting aid at the source of the Fell insurgence. We’ve just issued a quest to get more adventurers out there but we’re hitting a roadblock.” Mary exhaled, her eyes scanning the crowds. “We’re short on Silver-Rank adventurers at the moment, few parties are willing to go, instead, we’re having mostly Bronze adventurers requesting to go, even though the difficulty is set at Silver.”

  “Why are Silver-ranks refusing to go?” I chimed in.

  “Because they know the danger…” Lyria muttered back.

  “That’s correct… The ‘more experienced’ Silver-rankers don’t want anything to do with a quest this risky, and with such a low reward. The Bronze-rankers see it as an opportunity to raise their rank and renown,” Mary explained.

  “Lanton’s only other Gold-ranked adventurers are away in the kingdom of Valgarde. And on top of the Silver-rankers' reluctance to join the quest, they also raise a good point. We need some to stay and protect Lanton in case of an invasion.”

  Valgarde—one of the five kingdoms. The sister kingdom to Alvareth, where Lanton was located, and one of the two human kingdoms. I wouldn’t say we were at war with them, but the competition was always… fierce. If the other Gold-ranked party was there, they wouldn’t be able to help us in this.

  “What about the army…?” I asked.

  “Aye, they’re skilled in large-scale combat, but for a matter like this… Adventurers are far better suited. That said, a small Platoon of about 45 soldiers has been tasked specifically with this matter. They are aiding in everything from transportation of joining adventurers, to the eventual assault planned on the Fellwood,” Mary said, eyeing us, trying to gauge our willingness after hearing everything.

  “The Fellwood…?” Lyria echoed.

  “Yes… A corrupt forest that the Knights of Golden Light found. It seems to have been transformed by Fell sorcery leaking from the other plane. That is the root of this evil, as far as we know,” Mary said slowly. “The quest is set to begin the day after tomorrow…”

  Silence fell. None of us dared glance at Lyria as the implications landed.

  The day after tomorrow…

  The day of Lyria’s choice.

  Finally, Selene cleared her throat. “Give us the night to consider it. We need to run it by our other ally as well… I shall return tomorrow with our answer.”

  With a curt nod of our heads, we turned and headed back to Falcon’s Flight.

  * * *

  On the walk, I noticed Lyria trailing behind. I wrestled with the thought for a while, then finally slowed to fall into step beside her.

  “Hey…” I said quietly, my eyes glancing at her as we walked.

  “Hey,” she responded softly.

  “Look… I know you might be mad at me, I’ve been acting—weird—at best. I spoke for you when Elledor demanded you return with him, and since then I feel I haven’t done much to support you. I’m sorry… but if you would allow it, I’d like a chance to talk with you about everything… maybe just the two of us,” I said softly, my heart racing as I’d finally built the courage to say it.

  She was quiet for a moment, and I swear I caught the faintest hue of that familiar blush tinting her cheeks, just as it had many times in the past. But she faltered… her face growing distant.

  “I appreciate that, Yukon… but not now, I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind. I will… talk to you when I’m ready—probably…” Lyria said, her voice neutral but laced with something else. Restraint…?

  I nodded slowly, stepping back from her to give her space, my heart falling. But I couldn't do anything more, I had to let her come to me when she was ready. If she ever would be…

  When we returned to Falcon’s Flight, it wasn’t quite evening, but dusk was teasing at the horizon.

  Elledor sat near the hearth, the flame flickering dangerously in his eyes… His expression shifted to a warm smile as we entered.

  “Ah—you’re back! I was beginning to feel left out,” he said, his voice smooth, though tinged with something almost… bitter. Until it wasn’t. His tone turned gentle as his eyes landed on Lyria. “Lyria… I can tell something troubles you. Come, let us speak about it.”

  I glanced at Lyria, subtly, my chest tightening. Would she accept his invitation…?

  She blinked once, her face finding a neutral smile. “That would be nice. Sure, let’s talk,” she said, ignoring my glance as she went to him, the two of them disappearing once again into the courtyard.

  I guess I couldn’t hide my hurt. Selene and, more surprisingly, even Bront came to pat my shoulder empathetically as they passed me.

  I just stood there for a moment. My eyes found the burning hearth that Elledor had been gazing into so intently.

  She turned down my request to talk without batting an eye.

  Yet, she accepted his so easily.

  Had she already made her choice…? Had I read it all wrong from the start?

  Was she just… humoring us?