On a long, winding, and lonely road, a hooded figure rode in a wagon that smelled of radishes, pulled by a donkey. The shadowy treetops appeared like black flames against the starry night sky, as if the heavens were on fire — but that was only in the hooded figure’s mind. A night like this would have been bliss for them without the pesky torches attached to the wagon. This person preferred pure, unfiltered darkness to light.

“I don’t often see too many wanderers around these parts,” commented the old man driving the wagon. The hooded figure merely shrugged. “You were lucky I was around. I came here looking for an adventurer I dropped off just the other day not too far from here. The boy looked like a twig in that cheap iron armor of his and made me worry! I never thought I’d run into someone like you out in a place like this.”

The hooded figure offered a pleasant smile of gratitude.

The old man seemed to love the company, as he wouldn’t stop talking. “What’s your business going to Hildew City anyway?” The hooded figure shrugged again. “Well, a wanderer like you probably needs no good reason to go anywhere, I guess. Hell of a life, being a wanderer. I used to sell my radishes as far as Lemina, yes, I did. That’s in the Dukedom of Prua if you don’t know. Folk there don’t know a good radish if it fell on their heads, I’ll tell you that much.”

The old man’s prattling did not affect the hooded figure in any foul way. The night was young, and the weather fair. There was no ill mood to be had on such a lovely evening.

A sudden dark light grew above their heads that fell from the clouds, descending as if a dark spell were being cast. The donkey brayed uncontrollably at the sight and tried to escape as best it could.

“That little gremlin died a lot quicker than I thought,” the hooded figure mused with a grin, thinking of the gremlin that had been given this dark power. In its death, the power had returned to its source — the hooded figure. Demonic magic was reliant in that way.

The donkey had caught sight of what happened to the dark magic. It brayed and kicked aggressively, unable to calm down while the hooded figure was in sight.

“Now what’s the problem?” the old man asked, scratching his balding head, watching the donkey’s antics. “The weird light is gone now, don’t you see? Mister Lovesalot sure is acting strange…”

A dark light seeped into the wagon and traveled across the wood, past the old man and across the reins he held. The hooded figure had cast a spell. When the magic jumped from the reins to the donkey, the beast of burden finally stilled. Abruptly, the donkey began to move again at a steady pace.

“Mister Lovesalot…?” the old man muttered, unsure of what to make of the donkey’s sudden obedience.

“Tell me,” the hooded figure asked, getting the old man’s attention, “What was the name of that Adventurer you dropped off in this wood?”

“Hmm? Oh, him? Adventurer Banst Vale — good manners that young man got. As expected of a proper Adventurer. Too bad about his reputation as the Weakest Adventurer. I looked him up after sending him on his way. Which is why I came back, you see. Still, he seems a good boy.”

“’Weakest Adventurer,’ huh?” murmured the hooded figure, looking back at the dark forest it had left under the dominion of the gremlin Hakon. The gremlin ruler had died after the Adventurer had been dropped off here. That wasn’t a coincidence. “I would like to meet him.”

“Going to be busy in the guild,” the old man informed with a knowing look. “Not just the Adventurers Guild — the whole city, in fact!”

“Hmm?”

“Didn’t you hear? For the first time in the history of the Kingdom of Marlinen, the elves from the Kingdom of Vesene have come to visit!”

***

Glowing worms flew across the burrow as Banst tossed the remaining ones at the two tunnels that weren’t collapsed. At least Banst’s battle to the death wouldn’t be in pitch darkness. Breath didn’t come easy for the Weakest Adventurer. The sword nearly slipped from the nervous sweat slicking his hands.

No soul-bound armor. No more Deer-Ranked sword skill. And he was as worthy as ever of being deemed the weakest member of the Adventurers Guild branch located in one of the most backwater kingdoms. Only a horrible death awaited him, one that would have him eaten alive.

Mido's silent sobs against his deceased father's chest sent a jolt through Banst. The boy was trapped in a nightmare, having been tortured by a monster, and his father transformed into one before his death. The only way for the child to see the sun shine again was if Banst could save him.

An Adventurer’s work was never done.

“For the Adventurers Guild!” Banst shouted and charged toward the worm light. Oddly, he felt rather swift on his feet. A gremlin soared through the air toward him after having leapt like a tiger. Banst swerved away from the attack and cut in a line at the same time, slicing the creature’s head in half, never slowing in his charge. Two more gremlins growled as they tried to grab Banst to drag him when Banst’s iron sword cut their hands in one swing, then sliced their faces in the return swing.

Banst then maneuvered tightly around other gremlins pouring back into the burrow, while countering them as well.

Something odd was happening that Banst couldn’t understand. He was moving as if he still wore his soul-bound armor. No, he was feeling the exhaustion; that was the difference, yet the skills were somehow still there. Something had happened to him.

Gremlins charged in through the tunnels only to be cut down. Some managed to tear flesh from Banst, but they too met their demise at his blade.

“Human…die!” the smart gremlin snarled, but a simple stab in its heart took its life away. “No…!”

Dead gremlin bodies littered the burrow. Even when Banst had to somewhat stoop to keep his head from hitting the low ceiling, he still took their lives without pause. In a few minutes, most had died. Banst swayed on his feet. The battle had taken everything from him. Three gremlins remained, shallow cuts across their bodies showed evidence of Banst losing strength from fatigue.

“Damn gremlins…” Banst rasped, breath nearly gone. After all that work, he would die to three gremlins. Their numbers had been ludicrous in their original size. If they had grown stronger under Hakon’s dark influence, not only would Halbit village have suffered, but the entire Kingdom of Marlinen would have been under threat.

“At least I stopped them here…” Banst said, smiling weakly. If only Old Bart could see him now, how astounded that old man would have been to see “Lesser Faust” fight gloriously in the end.

Bright moving lights on the surface grew, along with encroaching voices. Steps approached that kicked dirt down the tunnels.

“Is anyone down there?” a worried voice shouted, while torchlight was shined into one of the holes.

“That’s a whole lot of dead monsters…” another voice commented on the state of the clearing above the burrow.

“Watch it!” Banst shouted, “There are still three gremlins alive!”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Agitated, the gremlins spun away from Banst to claw their way back to the surface and escape. With the emergence of more humans, their deaths were all but guaranteed, but not if they ran quickly enough. One couldn’t make it in time as Banst tiredly flopped like a dropped bag of potatoes on top of it.

“You aren’t going anywhere!” Banst growled and began pushing his sword into one of the monster’s cat eyes, plunging the weapon deep into its skull.

Panicked shouts from above compelled Banst to crawl out of the burrow. Men were there, dressed humbly, pitchforks and saws in their hands, some with torches to light the darkness. They were men from Halbit village who had infiltrated the woods, their patience reaching its limit waiting for the Adventurers Guild’s response, unaware of Banst’s presence in the forest.

Two gremlins growled threateningly at the encirclement of men that had gathered around them.

“I am Adventurer Banst! Don’t let the gremlins escape,” Banst barked an order. Before his words could finish, he fell atop one of the gremlins and grappled it, like a farmer tussling with a pig. As the claws of the other gremlin reached for Banst’s eyes, the men converged onto it, attacking the creature with their labor tools.

In victory, Banst rolled off the last dead gremlin and stared up at the night sky, blood-soaked, bruised, and scarred.

“I did it,” Banst muttered to himself as his eyes closed, and he fell asleep, exhausted.

***

Swaths of visitors walked the streets of Hildew City, hailing from far and wide, from many walks of life. Some came with goods to trade, while others were here for research purposes, yet most came out of pure curiosity. All of them arriving for the same thing — elves had come to human territory. Even dwarves had come to see what all the fuss was about.

Not since the deaths of the last members of the Hero party that had killed the Demon King had there been a mingling of so many different races. The races had to combine as one force to defeat him, an unprecedented yet glorious achievement. However, it did not last, and their differences drove one another away.

A private group of elves was being guided around the city on a tour. A tall male elf with elongated facial features stood with a beautiful young elf woman and a dangerous-looking elf with a skull painted on his face. City guards and elf guards alike stood by to keep away any curious person who got too close to them.

Though the elves were here on a diplomatic mission, they still had time to wander and enjoy themselves before the meeting with this kingdom’s royal court.

“Why do you all live in these shapes?” asked the tall elf with a long chin, nose, and face, Arel Naeor. He was a rather important elf among his kind for being a part of the few merchant families in the Kingdom of Vesene, a merchant family of honor. Unlike the sneaks that propped themselves up by the same title in human and dwarven lands.

The young elf woman was Teria Soreu, the youngest of many children to the ruler of the Kingdom of Vesene. Though they did not have a title of princess in elf lands, she still held a very important title of Highblood Bearer — one that carried the blood of royalty.

Nearer to the guards, as if an afterthought, was the Ghastly Specter, Jezerye. Lowborn elves didn’t receive a surname. However, his birth was in no way a hindrance to his strength. Ghastly Specters were considered one-man armies in elven lands. He was not someone to be trifled with, which was why he had been attached to the Highblood Bearer, Teria Soreu, in case a human or dwarf attempted anything untoward toward her.

Teria often stole glances at him, her attention not on the guide showing them around the city of Hildew. If only her family allowed her to choose a mate from a class other than noble, she thought.

The guide was the lone human that stood among them, a young man with an oval-shaped face and hair that was combed over his face as if he were hiding how he looked behind his bangs. A stiff mustache sat upon his upper lip that didn’t seem like it belonged to him.

He had self-proclaimed himself as the greatest guide in the Kingdom of Marlinen — Benwick Faker, and he responded to Arel’s question, “What shape do you mean, good sir?”

“What do you humans call these…” No matter how much the long-faced elf, Arel, pondered, no answer came to him. “Dear Teria, what is this shape that the humans build everything in?”

Teria shrugged, her face expressionless. Even if she were supposed to be getting courted by him, that didn’t mean she needed to go along with every little thought he had. Thinking of how she was forced to be around him by her family caused her to bristle. Her sparkling eyes stole another glance at Jezerye’s painted face.

At least the handsome Ghastly Specter was around for her to ogle.

“Ah,” Benwick said in realization, “What you mean, honorable elf, is that this shape is a square. We humans build things in squares.”

“Yes, that’s right!” Arel remarked, nodding with enthusiasm. “Why do you lower things — I mean, why do you honorable humans have such, hmm, how do I say this? A lacking variety in structures?”

“We build squares because we have square maps!” declared Benwick, pointing a finger up as if discovering this so-called fact at the same time as he said it. His mustache seemed to have gone askew.

“Oh, I see. The squares you humans build are due to it being a familiar shape.” Arel laughed and whispered to Teria, trying to get her to like him. “These dumb humans and their odd shapes and culture.” Arel knew Teria disliked humans, so he ridiculed them. If he were honest, the long-faced elf actually found the contrasting culture of humanity quite intriguing.

Teria nearly yawned in his face but kept her breath as a heavy sigh instead. “Sure,” she offered without much strength, her face still blank.

Jezerye’s painted face twisted in confusion. There was no way humans built things in squares because of their maps. His brow furrowed at the sudden sight of a young man standing upon a ledge a few feet higher that was a part of another section of the district, staring closely at Benwick — their guide.

When Benwick caught notice, he immediately looked away, as if he didn’t want to meet this young man. The newcomer was the last person Benwick wanted to see. The newcomer was a noble from the Adventures Guild, Herek Vondle.

“Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere…?” Herek muttered, trying to get closer to Benwick, only to be halted by the surrounding guards protecting the elven visitors. He had been on his way to one of his lovers' homes in what was called the Residential District, where clerks and other middle-of-society commoners lived, when he noticed a familiar face.

“I-I've never seen you before in my life, Adventurer!” Benwick replied with a hand held up to hide his face.

“How do you know that I’m an Adventurer…?” Herek wasn’t in his armor and wore an everyday fine tunic and moleskin pants.

“You must be mistaken. I don’t know you, good sir. Please, be gone.”

“Is there something wrong, good sir Benwick?” Arel asked, curious at the tense exchange between the humans. Elves had enough shame not to bicker in public. To him, it seemed humans did not.

“Benwick…?” Herek echoed before his eyes widened, and he seethed, eyes locked onto the guide, “Benwick? You mean, Fenwick! You lowly bastard, when I get my hands on you…!” The guards, both human and elf, knew a troublemaker had come and began to drag him away.

“Fenwick!” Herek hissed, his entire body cradled in the arms of the guards, “I’ve found you now! Do you think you can escape me this time?”

“What a rambunctious young man,” Benwick, who was really Fenwick, commented, as if Herek had nothing to do with him. “I’m sorry, honorable elf guests. What you’ve seen was a crazy person. Often, humans lose their minds having to live in so many squares that it sometimes becomes maddening.”

Arel gasped, “Oh, is that so?” He called forth an elf assistant and demanded she write down what Fenwick had just said. “Truly a marvelous insight into humanity. Don’t you agree, dear Teria?” Arel’s expression fell as he saw Teria gravitating closer to the Ghastly Specter, ignoring him.

Yet, unlike the others who still thought Fenwick was Benwick the guide, the Ghastly Specter loomed over Fenwick with a suspicious gaze, the ghostly white paint making Jezerye seem otherworldly, along with his blue-tinted skin.

Quickly, Fenwick offered a suggestion, “Why should we save the best for last?” He got their attention with a sudden clap of his hands. “Let us visit the guild that keeps this city safe from monsters. Let us visit the Adventurers Guild!”

An excited light caused Arel’s eyes to glisten. “Of course! I do wish to see the human guild that is most famous throughout the lands. I hear this one is but a branch guild, is that correct?”

“Oh, the Adventurers Guild!” Teria swooned, finally paying attention as a subject matter she cared about was finally brought up. She would never admit it to anyone, but she often dreamed of being a part of the guild founded by the Heroes that had slain the Demon King. “They’re the greatest fighters in all the land!”

Hearing her comment, Jezerye let out a noise that sounded like a stifled laugh.

“Is there something wrong, honorable sir?” Fenwick asked, twirling his fake mustache, watching the blue-skinned elf cover his mouth.

“Ah, I must not be used to the human smell yet and sneezed,” Jezerye lied, hiding away a smile, desperately hoping the laugh threatening to burst from his lips did not surface. “Greatest fighters” indeed. If the Adventurers Guild had such fine warriors, how had he killed them so easily back in that village he destroyed? How could he not find such a ludicrous statement amusing?

He had to make sure to cure Teria of her silly notions and overblown perception of this unworthy guild.

As they moved toward the guild, Fenwick felt a chill creep up his spine seeing Herek’s followers begin to follow them. He had been hiding away at the Adventurers Guild, in a cabinet after making a deal with one of the receptionists to let him do so. All he had to do was provide her with free food. Sadly, he had run out of food stalls to trick out of free food while trying to feed both him and her.

Once their deal had gone away, he had to hide in other ways, like becoming a fake guide.

Herek’s followers grew in number as their group walked on. The word was being sent out. Herek would use all within his power to capture Fenwick.