“Hard to believe a place can still look so nice this far north.” Veros can't help but comment on how neat and tightly-run everything is. Now he truly understands why Vincent and Misha don't mind living in the misted region. Anyone would do the same if they were guaranteed both safety and a home like this, tax-free.

“The chief's a tidy person.” Vincent replies, looking around the finely-decorated room, admiring it as well despite seeing it many times already. “Bit of a slave driver, too.”

“Who's a slave driver?” An unknown voice interrupts. Misha returns from the rooms behind the thrones with a middle-aged woman in exquisite, embroidered black robes and a green cape and hood. She has salt and pepper hair that reaches her shoulders, and light brown eyes. She radiates an elegant yet authoritative aura that doesn't necessarily demand respect, but rather firmly suggests it.

“Just making small talk, chief.” Vincent answers while straightening his posture.

The woman glances at the six new faces in her building. “Are these new guests?” She asks as a welcoming smile crosses her face.

“Yes, just for the night. They aim to continue north tomorrow.”

“In that case, let's get the introductions out of the way now so we can get them settled in.” The elder lady steps forward and offers her hand first to Veros. “My name's Lena Eudenwulf. I'm in charge of Terrance for the time being.”

The veteran courteously accepts her hand and shakes it. “I'm Veros Quintum.” He introduces himself stiffly, as if Lena's almost-royal presence forces him into old, rigid habits from his Legion days. She proceeds to the next person.

“Kellar Weylan, ma'am.” The rogue politely greets her in a manner that's quite out of character.

“Royd Darvenson.” The bulky woodcutter says in a voice softer than his usual, booming talking volume.

“Erik Rocheford, m'lady.” The noble introduces himself in a sophisticated manner that he's no doubt used to performing, giving a slight bow as he clasps her hand. The chief proceeds to the next person.

“Zyra Wedwick.” The mage says meekly.

“You're a pyromancer, Zyra?” Lena asks with enthusiasm, noticing the pupil's cape and bracelet.

Zyra nods. “I am. My second year starts soon.”

“I see.” The woman slightly narrows her eyes and looks down at the bracelet again. She seems to want to make a remark, but decides to leave it for now. She approaches the last person in the group.

“Atticus Dayne, ma'am.” The black-clad knight greets her with the same, somewhat rough voice and stoic demeanor he usually speaks in.

“A Threcian royal knight?” She comments, puzzled at his presence as she grasps his hand. “I've never seen this armor in person before.”

She closely examines the iron he's wearing, taking notice of as many tiny scrapes, dents, and general signs of age and usage. She admires the finer details of its form as if it were a painting. Atticus doesn't say anything more, assuming her fascination is the usual curiosity displayed by most people who see him in that armor.

Lena steps back to end the introductions. “Well, you're quite an interesting collection of individuals. I'd love to ask you all about yourselves and your journey so far, but I'm sure you'd rather be directed to a bed and some food first. Vincent and Misha here will take you to the guesthouse where you can claim your rooms. The eatery is nearby, too. I was planning on heading there soon for dinner, myself.”

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

“What of our horses, ma'am?” Veros politely interjects.

“We have a stable you can take them to. There's hay and water troughs there. Now, go ahead get yourselves settled in. I'll be in the eatery soon to chat with you.”

Vincent gives a playfully sarcastic salute to his superior. “Yes, ma'am. Follow us, folks.”

He and Misha turn and lead the group back outside. They rigidly march out the door, still affected by Lena's intimidating aura. As they go, Zyra looks back to catch a short glimpse at her robes, quietly noting their familiar style. Outside, they cross the road to two nearby houses standing right next to each other.

Vincent points to the first one and offers a succinct description of it. “House to the left is the guesthouse, has three rooms with two cots in each, so pick your roommates amongst yourselves.” He points to the second and recites its purpose with equal lack of enthusiasm. “Then the right is the eatery, where you can pick your meals similar to how you do in the Legion checkpoints. That's pretty much all. Oh, and the stable she mentioned is behind the village hall, to the northeast.”

“Thank you. We appreciate the help you've given us today.” Veros gives his gratitude.

Vincent shakes his head. “No problem. I'm used to doing this sort of thing. I'll see you all at dinner in a bit.” He and Misha depart, leaving the group to take care of things for themselves.

“Well, shall we?” Kellar is the first to step into the guesthouse, beckoning the others to come with him.

Inside is as they expected, the interior of a normal home repurposed into an inn-like shelter for Mistwalkers who stay short term. The living room, which holds two cots as they were told, doesn't offer much in terms of privacy, but it's the most spacious and has the fire pit.

“I'll sleep in here.” Royd claims one of the cots, which is sitting directly underneath a window next the door.

“Me too.” Veros claims the second cot, which is pressed up against the adjacent wall at the furthest end of the room.

The other four proceed across the living room, entering a short hallway that leads to the remaining two rooms that are facing each other. They're both about equal in terms of size.

“Not much of a difference between 'em.” Kellar remarks as he enters the western room and sits on one the cots. Erik silently joins him, claiming the other.

“Well, this is a lot better than those cramped broom closets back at Zenith Gate.” Zyra comments as she claims one of the cots in the eastern room. With only one left in the whole house to take, Atticus sits on the final cot next to the young mage's.

“Did you notice?” She speaks up, looking at the knight with a curious gaze. “She's wearing a university teacher's robes.”

“Teachers wear those?” He responds, recalling the fancy stitching and embroidery. They were certainly eye-catching, and less obnoxiously extravagant than the blue robes seen on the monks.

The pyromancer nods. “Yes. And she had a green cape, which means she practices healing and physiological magic.”

Atticus thinks back to the moment he shook Lena's hand and realizes a crucial detail. “She didn't have a bracelet on, though. Isn't that a bit odd?”

“Well...” Zyra ponders. “It's not like we're obligated to keep them on all day, although it'd be a poor decision not to do that out here.”

“Have you seen her around campus before?”

She shakes her head.“No, I haven't. But that's not uncommon. The university is massive and different years are divided into different sections. It's very possible to go your first three years without ever knowing some of the fourth year teachers even exist.”

“So she's not a first year teacher, then?”

“Definitely not. I would have known her, or at least heard about a first year teacher leaving to become a Mistwalker.”

Atticus pauses for a moment to consider the lack of information. Outside of her clothing, there's no way to really confirm that she's a mage at the moment. She could have acquired those robes elsewhere. However, the knight realizes the irony of this train of thought, considering how often people assume he stole his own armor.

“Well, she seemed to show a bit of interest in you when she noticed you were a mage, too.” He comments. “Perhaps you can ask her about it at dinner?”

“That's true.” Zyra suddenly becomes somewhat perked up. “I honestly never thought I'd run into another mage out here. Until now, you were the closest to that, but you're out of practice.”

The knight smirks and exhales sharply through his nose in a quiet scoff. “This out-of-practice pyromancer helped you with your casting, you know.”

“I know, I'm just teasing.” She responds with a smile.

Atticus pushes himself up to his feet. “Well, we should bring our horses to the stable and get ready for dinner.”

“Right.” Zyra stands up and the two leave the room to collect the others and proceed with their errands before going to the eatery for a meal.