The first light of day had clawed its way over the eastern horizon properly now. It cast a pale glow upon the vast expanse of land before it and on the yard where sixty people, more or less, were standing in front of the main ranch house. The landscape, barren and austere, unfolded in a desolate panorama of faded gold and rusty hues around them all. Their breath smoked in the air.

I inhaled and began. “Ladies and gentlemen of the Falcon’s Reach Guild, I wanted to say a few words to you before you get on with whatever it is you’re doing today.”

“Well get to saying it, Dev!” said a man with a face that had about as much aesthetic appeal as a burnt boot. I recognized Samuel Lang at once. “Some of us have work to do!”

There was a smattering of chuckling. I grinned. Sam was a smart ass, as befitted someone with the Dark Rogue class, but also a good dude and a hard worker.

“Fair enough,” I said. “I’ll keep this brief, then, seeing as I’m taking up so much of your time, you coffee-swilling slackers.”

More laughter. A few steaming enamel coffee cups were raised.

“I just wanted to say thank you for all your hard work,” I said simply. “Thank you all so much for everything you’ve achieved here. For helping us all become safer and more self-sufficient in a land that has only become more and more dangerous and unforgiving.”

There was a brief round of applause, but only a brief one. All of us knew that this was an ongoing battle for survival. It was, unless things went back to the way they had been post-monster apocalypse, how things were likely to be for the foreseeable future.

Personally, I was okay with that. Already, the time of grumbling about traffic jams and delays during our daily commutes; fussing over finding the perfect angle and lighting for a selfie; bitching about slow internet speeds and buffering; or stressing out over a low battery percentage or a misplaced charger seemed like a long-ago dream.

Life was harder now, sure, but it was also simpler. I liked that.

“We’ve accomplished a metric shit-ton,” I continued.

“Watch your mouth, boy,” came my father’s indignant voice from the back of the throng, where he was saddling a bay.

There was another ripple of laughter at that.

I made a guilty face. “We’ve come a darn long way,” I said, emphasizing the ‘darn’. “Ever since expanding this place after the defeat of the Beast King we’ve moved in leaps and bounds. We took on more folk from those motherf—from those marauders who tried to rustle some of our cattle on their way through to Spokane. Fought off that bunch of bandits, who had all those glittersteel items, and then found the cache of it they left near those pillars that were responsible for bringing forth all those dwarf-miner type monsters.”

There was a series of heartfelt cheers from our latest batch of arrivals.

“We’ve already managed to gather the cattle in and tuck away onto the winter pasture,” I continued, raising my voice. That had been a quick job, moving the herd onto an area of the ranch where a ring of forest acted as a natural windbreak. Our cattle’s winter coats ensured the cows could withstand temperatures as low as -18F, but it was still good to know our meat futures were safe.

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More clapping. I held up my hands.

“We’ve expanded,” I said, my voice taking on more emotion and getting louder.

I’m proud, I realized. I really am proud.

“We had some of our best monster hunters collect more Base Gems so that we were able to upgrade this base of the Falcon’s Reach Guild to Level 5! And extend its protection all the way to Willa’s farm!”

I saw the Alchemist, Sofia Koura, punch Willa on the arm and grin.

“I know my old man loves being the center of attention, so let me just congratulate him in front of all of you for becoming a Level 8 Arcane Farmer. We have him to thank for the living fence that now surrounds us!”

Dad shook his head and muttered something into his mustache.

“The moat Professor Peter Manning began has since been completed with the help of our new workforce,” I said. It wasn’t as if I needed to remind anyone of that. The sound of the water as it looped in off the river, surrounding the main ranch, was a constant pat on the back from all those that had been involved in its construction. The ranch’s citadel, as Professor Manning called it, was now accessed by a drawbridge powered by spells from the Occult Engineers, along with Farha al-Sala, a Hydro Mage.

“As well as having enough workers to ensure that we have the whole herd back,” I said, gesturing out beyond the running Stillwater, where I knew the overnight cattle hands were watching the herd on horseback, “we’ve also taken on new stock. The glimmerhorns are thriving and packing on the meat!”

The glimmerhorns were curious creatures that Rick, my father, and I had stumbled across during a recon mission to the ranch’s north. As far as we knew, the glimmerhorns were unique amongst all the new magical beast denizens that now roamed Montana, and the world, for they were openly docile.

They were large, majestic beasts. They were not unlike the cow except for the fact they had a unicorn-style horn in the center of their heads, were possessed of long shimmering coats that changed color depending on their emotions and surroundings, and were at least fifty percent larger than the biggest heifer.

They possessed gentle and docile personalities, making them well-suited for herding and domestication. As such, and seeing an opportunity when he saw one, Don Russo had suggested we send out a party of riders and bring this new herd back to the ranch. This we had done. On closer inspection, my father declared that they had some quality meat distribution to them, their hairy coats did not look dissimilar to that of a yak, and they had udders that promised milk and everything that went with it when, or should, they calf.

The rest, as they say, was history.

“Yep, that was well done,” I said. “It showed good forward thinking, something we always need to be doing.”

There was a murmur of agreement at this.

“And last, but not least, we also now have the anti-airborne turrets which our noble and modest Defender, Hugo Sands, built, along with some of our other practically minded folk.”

Hugo stood up on a rain barrel. “Thank you, thank you, you’re all really too kind. I’ll be signing autographs over in the stables after the address.”

Someone threw a pear at the big man, and it hit him in the chest. He managed to keep his balance and catch the pear before it fell and took a large bite out of it.

“Thank you,” he said again. “I hadn’t had breakfast.”

“Yes, we’ve done a hell of a job,” I said over the rising hubbub, “but we have to keep on doing a hell of a job. For anyone who can tell a skunk from a house cat will be aware that winter is just around the corner.”

This declaration sobered up most of the gathered audience. Smiles faded. Faces turned thoughtful.

“So, what are we doing next?” the Arcane Trickster, Kaleigh McCann called from the throng, brushing her copper hair out of her eyes as she surveyed me on the porch.

“We keep preparing,” I said. “We keep on keeping on. Keep doing what we’re doing. All of us keep fighting monsters, keep grinding.”

“Why?” asked the fattest Winchester brother, Joe.

I pointed out to the northwest. “Because, Joe, we need a contingent of Level 25 contenders. Because it’s not going to be long before we make a run at that floating island out there, and see what secrets it holds.”