7

Vander hadn’t been gone long, but when he returned to the building where he and his dad had separated, his dad waited outside with hard eyes and crossed arms. A squad of five heavily armored adventurers with the insignia of the official Adventurers Guild formed a semicircle around the old man.

When it came to adventurers, the group of five looked like the most professional and sane Vander had ever seen. They lacked the insanity of their predecessors. Just like his dad, they all had hard gazes and kept their calm as he approached. Each took stock of his capabilities as he did the same to them.

“Let’s go, son,” his dad barked, closing the distance and putting his arm around Vander’s shoulders. He took his furred cloak and put it over Vander’s shoulders, pulled the hood up. “Don’t say anything, keep your head down, and no matter what happens, keep moving back to The Snarl.”

Doing as he said, Vander kept his eyes faced forward and his head low, doing his best to keep his blue eyes obscured from any and all occupants of Enari—to include the five man group.

“What’s the rush, hoss?” the largest man asked, his voice booming across the street. “Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“If I’m to escort your party, keep up and don’t ask questions,” Vander’s dad responded, not looking back to see if the adventurers followed after he stepped off.

The rest of the trip in Enari was cut short. For the duration, Vander stayed out of sight and out of mind, not uttering a single syllable as they traveled through the bustling streets. As much as the father and son duo wanted to get out of Enari as fast as they possibly could before one of the Zealots recognized Vander’s blue eyes, the adventurers had other ideas.

They meandered around, window shopping as they pleased. Because of their professionalism, they refused to leave Enari until they had a better handle on their resources, since they didn’t know how long they’d be away from the city. Neither Vander or his dad could blame them for being careful, even if they both wanted the party to hurry.

Not everyone grew up foraging or hunting in the wilderness. From the looks of the state of their armor and weapons, these adventurers had seen countless fights. When, where, and why were all mysteries he could only infer based on his observations.

The Adventurers Guild delineated ranks with a number of lines. Horizontal, vertical, and diagonal. Things got a little complicated once they started to mix, but horizontal lines indicated a novice. Vertical meant a veteran. Diagonals were elites, and everything after that was a convoluted ordering system that only the elite of the elite would ever have to know.

In the group of five, their individual ranks varied greatly. The youngest of the bunch, a man who looked a few years older than Vander, had two horizontal stripes under the emblem over his chest.

He carried a single curved sword on his left hip and wore slightly baggy pants. The rims of his pants tucked into his boots and flared outward. The shirt he wore was equally baggy but was kept in check by a leather tunic. His eyes searched every nook and cranny in attentive alertness.

Compared to the other four, he looked like he was trying too hard. The second lowest rank was a female who had a vertical line. She carried a bandelier with too many knives to count. She had another strapped to her right thigh, but the second had long iron bolts for a far too large ballista attached to her back.

The thing looked massive and incredibly unwieldy, yet the confidence she exuded and ease in which she navigated the things made him believe in her ability. Unlike the young boy and his baggy clothes, everything she wore was tight. Boots dyed black, black pants that stretched easily with her movements but still looked sturdy, and a black undershirt underneath a long sleeved jacket.

Even the ponytail that wrestled her brown hair into a bundle and flowed down her back and sharp brown eyes made her look highly professional. The only thing that played in contrast to that image of professionalism were the looks she kept shooting towards Vander out of the corner of her eyes and the subtle tugging at the corners of her lips.

After her, a man and woman that looked to be twins with double verticals. The man wore dirt brown robes with green and red trimming. The insignia of a deity Vander didn’t recognize was sewn across the right side of his robes, opposite of the Adventurer Guild’s. In his hands, he carried a prayer book with the same circular insignia of his deity.

On the other hand, the second female of the group wore tanned leather underneath chainmail with iron gauntlets. She carried a B. F. sword over one shoulder with a bag of supplies hoisted over the other.

Hell, if Vander had to guess, she was acting as a mule and carried the whole party’s stuff. However, that thought was easily put aside by how each of them had both waist bags made of leather and high quality packs full of various things that stuck out the top.

Seeing her move unimpeded, he guessed she had to have a monstrous level of strength to haul all that gear around in addition to the packs.

Could I take any of them in a fight? he wondered.

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Finally, the last guy. Hoss man. Three vertical stripes. His pack clanked with telltale signs of heavier gear. A shield was strapped to the top as well, and a warhammer dangled by his side. He was a mountain of a man, thick, broad, and a head taller than Vander.

Unlike the beasts within The Snarl, he couldn’t view any information about their classes, attributes, or skills. They all looked like big question marks to him in regards to their capabilities. From what he understood from talking to adventurers before, the ranks given to adventurers had nothing to do with the grade the system gave him.

Broken into one through eleven, the guilds delineated a person’s abilities through their own “rank” metrics. The young boy with the double horizontal stripes was a second rank adventurer, barely above an absolute beginner.

The knife and mobile ballista girl jumped from second rank to fourth rank, making Vander think the guy who looked a few years older than him might be some kind of prodigious talent for these veterans to drag him around with them.

The twins were fifth rankers, while hoss man was a sixth rank adventurer. All in all, their group was the strongest Vander had seen before. In fact, before them, the strongest adventurer Vander had seen previously was a solo fourth ranker.

Vander shot his dad a look. Zealots and high-ranking adventurers, all on the same day? Things are about to get shaken up around here—and fast.

“We’ve been tasked with escorting this group to the boundary of the second forest,” his dad answered, recognizing the unasked question in Vander’s eyes. “This was just a side task. The emergency wasn’t for Enari. It was for us. They wanted us to know about the Zealots' arrival, but it looks like we took too long to respond.”

Pursing his lips, Vander nodded and kept his eyes down and in front of him as they loped through Enari’s main road that led back the way they’d come earlier in the day.

***

Even pushing the adventurers along, the departure from Enari took several hours. Luckily for Vander, the Zealots didn’t seem to be in a hurry to spread out in search of him. Though, the more he thought about his initial assumption for their appearance, the more he thought he’d likely been wrong.

They were probably just doing what they normally do and what everyone else was doing and colonizing a new land. His paranoia had made him act rashly, and he saw that in hindsight. Had Vander played his cards a bit better, he could’ve likely watched them for some time, got a read on their movements, and gained valuable information.

Has sticking around the old man made me soft after all these years? Vander wondered, shaking his head at the lost opportunity. Now we’re just on escort duty, though the company could be worse.

“Chin up, hoss,” the brute of a man called from ahead of them. He shirked off the large pack that clinked on the side of the grassland path. “Let’s break here for a bite to eat before finishing the trip. Anything wrong with that?”

His dad nodded. “Go ahead. Now that we’re out of Enari, I don’t feel so restless.”

“Don’t like big cities, old man?” bandelier girl called from where she casually sprawled out against the ground. “We’re not a fan of them either, but preparation is key to surviving any outing.”

“Right enough, Ness,” the leader said, nodding proudly. He eyed Vander’s curious blue eyes for a second before grinning and looking at Vander’s old man. “Let’s make introductions again. Your boyo wasn’t there the first time around, and I’m sure the chaos of the city folk didn’t help old folk like us and our bad memories.”

Vander perked up at that. Shrugging off the cloak, he handed it back to his dad and looked around at the others. He saw recognition in the eyes of each of the adventurers as they met his gaze.

“Makes more sense now,” the male twin said. He looked between their party and nodded more to himself than anybody else. “I suppose I can start the introductions. The name’s Fallon, and I’m a priest of Exarion, god of protection. I specialize in barrier magic. I’ve been a fifth rank adventurer for a few years now.”

The female twin crossed her arms. “Anna. Rank five battlemaster.”

Hoss man sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Excuse Anna. She’s not a big talker. I’m Dom, sixth rank defender and the leader of this merry band of misfits.”

When neither of the other two remaining members of their party offered their introduction, Vander spoke. “Name’s Vander. Lived in The Snarl my whole life, so I’ve never been tested to see my rank.”

“Makes sense, considering those eyes of yours,” Dom said with a grin. He must’ve seen the tense expression on Vander’s dad’s face. He shrugged nonchalantly and thumbed towards Enari. “Your secret’s safe with us. We’re not all that fond of The Mad God’s cult of child murderers either. If it weren’t for the lack of surprise, we wouldn’t have stuck around back there either. Nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

All of the members of his party seemed to agree, especially Fallon. An energy of indignation and disgust wafted off of him like a dense cloud of gloom and doom.

“Get yourself in check, Fallon,” Dom ordered, patting the priest on the back hard enough to knock him off balance. “Ness, introduce yourself.”

The bandelier girl waved as she smiled sheepishly. “Nice to meet you both. I’m Vanessa, and I’m the ranged damage for this group.”

Aside from Fallon, they all look like they use physical means to deal or resist damage. From what I can read from them, none of them really offset the ambient magic in the air, Vander mused, shifting his gaze towards the last member of the group. Well, he kind of does, just not all that much. Could he be their only source of magical damage? That doesn’t seem very wise if they want to venture deeper into The Snarl.

Vanessa seemed to notice Vander’s shift in attention and smacked her lips in dissatisfaction, huffing a frustrated breath. Given how Vander felt nothing dangerous from her, the occurrence was probably one that happened often.

“Zekiel Tamaranth. Youngest sword expert of the Tamaranth family, hailing from the Varoth continent,” the youngest of the group introduced, bowing dramatically with his hands outstretched to the sides and head low. “Nice to meet your acquaintance. We’ll be in your care.”

The flash of something in the man’s eyes sent excited chills up Vander’s spine.

He’s an interesting one.