Glade strode through the early morning mists, the outline of the caravan’s wagons and horses coming into view in the predawn light. He had initially been worried about Helmund allowing them to tag along on their journey back to Asylum, but once Holo had shown him the goods Glade and the others were hoping to put up for auction the man had practically begged them to join him.

The hard part was convincing RIya. It had taken some time, but Glade had finally talked her into delaying their departure to the banished elves. She had been desperate to rush to her sister Val’s side, announce that she was alive and well, and then save Val from a forced marriage.

Truth be told, Glade was feeling sick about the situation as well. He had no doubts that in the absence of any recognized leadership, the elders would likely act in their own best interests.

What had finally convinced her was Lun’Svet. Riya absolutely refused to leave the Gen’Sheld behind. Fortunately for him, Riya knew that they wouldn’t be able to protect the horse lord on their own, which meant using the auctioneer’s services.

So, their plan was set. They would travel to Asylum, participate in the auction, and ensure the dwarves' debt was paid off. After that, they would break paths. While he, Riya, and Kedryn would head north, Bragden and Gent would finish purchasing their needed supplies for Storms’ Rest and then arrange transport back to Aldorna, where Crixus would carry them the rest of the way.

As Glade neared the caravan, he found a bleary eyed, sour-faced Gent, who was laying back in the driver's seat of the rearmost wagon.

“I’d say good morning, but you look like you’ve got one foot in the grave,” Glade chuckled.

“I have several slagging reasons to curse those bloody Gnoll’s,” Gent groaned, looking for all the world like he was about to roll off the wagon. “But their most heinous crime was they deprived us of booze for so long that the horse piss these villagers call ale actually gave me a hangover.”

“I’ve heard from those traveling bards that a sober dwarf's blood is three parts alcohol,” Cirea chuckled as she walked out of the mist from the front of the caravan, a massive iron trunk the size of a small bed casually resting on one of her shoulders. She then just as easily tossed the trunk into the back of the wagon, the weight of it shaking the vehicle violently.

“Ughh,” Gent groaned, looking a bit green as he clutched his stomach. “Would ye be a bit more careful with that lass? Me blood has thinned a bit more than is healthy for a bearded dwarf like me.”

“Not to worry,” Bragden called, coming from the direction of the manor, his arms wrapped around what looked like a small sized barrel. “I’ve got something that should help set ye straight.”

“Is that more alcohol?” Glade asked incredulously. He had watched Gent put a serious dent in the Patriarch’s stores the night before, and in his experience, more booze after a hangover wasn’t the best answer.

“Thank the Mother!” Gent groaned, rolling off the wagon’s bench. “What did ye find?”

“Well, I’ve got both good news and bad,” Bragden said, handing the barrel to Cirea who placed it in the back of the wagon. “What do ye want first?”

“The bad news,” Gent said, looking between the bald dwarf and the small barrel.

“I could only get me hands on a half o’ keg,” Bragden snorted. “But it should last us till at least this afternoon.”

Glade glanced at the barrel of booze. While it wasn’t large per se, it was still more than any sane person could drink in a few short hours. He was about to open his mouth to comment on this very fact when Gent responded.

“And the good news?”

Bragden’s grin practically split his face in two. “It’s a Western Dwarrow meade.”

Gent’s eyes bugged out.

“I’ll grab the mugs,” he said, turning around and hurrying back to the front of the wagon.

Cirea laughed as Bragden licked his lips.

Glade shook his head, deciding to keep his mouth shut for the moment. There were better ways to teach the importance of proper hydration.

“What’s Gent doing?” Kedryn asked, appearing out of the mist like a ghost. The mist had both muted his footsteps and concealed his approach. If not for Glade’s telepathy skill, he might not have detected him at all.

“About to regret his choices for a second time,” Glade snorted, watching the hunter trundle back with a couple of ceramic mugs. He then looked at Kedryn, who was wearing one of the nicer outfits the local tailor had made for him. “Are you sure you want to wear that on the road?”

Kedryn looked down and shrugged. “It's comfortable enough. Besides, we shouldn’t get too dirty riding in the back of the wagon. From what I heard Helmund say, we’ll be closer to the front of the caravan with the horse lord. Means less road dust.”

“Suit yourself,” Glade shrugged, turning back to the others. Some light banter had begun between the dwarves and Cirea, who for all the world looked interested in trying a bit of the meade. What was it with these people and booze?

Pretty soon, Helmund came from the front of the caravan with Holo and a giant of a man Glade assumed was the chief of security on this little detail. Riya followed behind them, leading the horse lord. The only person missing was Crixus, who had run back to his ship the moment he and Holo had signed a contract, but not before he and the ship captain had a long talk.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He was going to miss the bald sailor.

“We’re about to take off,” Helmand called out as he approached. “We’ll have you follow my carriage, then the other wagons will follow behind you. For those who don’t know, Holo has agreed to lend us Cirea for the return trip.”

“It seemed like the most prudent thing to do,” Holo shrugged. “Afterall, this little trip is now representing a sizable amount of potential earnings for Aldorna.”

“Any who follow the path of Titan’s Strength are welcome amongst my crew,” the large caravan guard said, bobbing a nod toward Cirea.

“Aww, I didn’t take you for a soft hearted man, Glen,” Cirea winked at the man. “But I’m not going just for the extra hazard pay. It's been too long since I”ve seen Jirea. That, and I hear there’s a new gladiator team on the circuit?”

“I was wondering why you’d agreed to what amounted to babysitting duty,” the guard, whose name was apparently Glen, laughed, his own eyes lighting up the moment CIrea began talking about the gladiators. “And you’d be right. There is a full blooded Arsus who debuted on the sands just over a month ago! Fights like a right demon, he does. No weapons but his own claws, teeth, and muscle. Fights alongside some sort of shadow slinger. They were apparently captured and sold to House Burlett together. Never seen ‘em lose.”

“Looking forward to watching them in action, then,” Cirea grinned.

“We’ll have to push hard if you’re going to make it for their next fight,” Helmund said, looking up at the brightening sky. “It usually takes us four days of steady driving to get to Asylum from here. Three if we push hard. I for one would rather push hard on this trip. We’re carrying far more valuables than I had originally anticipated.”

“We can wait on selling the yearlings until later this summer if you think they’ll slow you down,” Holo said, looking back to where a handful of stable hands were tying lead ropes onto a dozen young horses.

“You know as well as I do that they won’t fetch as much later in the year,” Helmund sighed. “No, we’ll take them with us. A harder pace for a wagon team is still a gentle stroll for trained thoroughbreds like these.”

Lun’Svet nudged Glade’s arm, looking at him intently. Knowing something was concerning the sentient horse, Glade went ahead and connected with his mind.

“The young palomino and the chestnut with the white foot have injured forelegs,” the horse lord projected as he looked upon the yearlings. The young horses, which had been whinnying and jostling about, suddenly stilled. “I will not allow them to be moved until they are healed.”

“What is happening?” Cirea asked, swinging around to look at the now quiet animals.

Not knowing what else to do, Glade explained the situation.

“I’ll take care of it,” Riya said, walking up to the horses in question.

No sooner had she stepped away than Lun’Svet interrupted his thoughts again.

“Also,” the horse lord projected, but with something that looked more like… well, if Glade didn’t know any better, he would say that he looked embarrassed. “There is a Grasslands High Stepper with a brilliant amber coat. I believe her name is Sunset. She is… quite spirited.”

Glade looked incredulously at the Gen’Sheld. Was the old stallion asking what he thought he was asking?

“It would be a much more enjoyable journey if she could come along,” Lun’Svet finished rather quickly.

Glade almost asked if the horse lord was sure he knew what he was doing, but seeing even a spark of interest in the near dead eyes was enough for him. Hopefully, Riya didn’t kill him.

He quietly motioned for Holo and Helmund to join him so he could make the request in private. He didn’t know what was weirder, the fact that he was playing wingman for a horse or that Holo was grinning like a mad man.

And that was how Sunset joined their party.

“Why is there another horse next to Lun’Svet?” Riya asked as one of Holo’s men led the mare to where they were, her eyes narrowing.

“I don’t think he answers to that name anymore,” Glade said, trying to distract her from the fact that Lun’Svet was puffing out his chest for the mare in awjat he guessed was an effort to show off. “Besides, the extra company might do him some good. You know, seeing as he’s a horse lord and all.”

Riya looked between him and Lun’Svet, then sighed deeply before climbing onto the back of the wagon. Kedryn also moved as if to climb up when Glade reached out an arm to stop him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked.

“Climbing into the wagon,” Kedryn said, with a roll of his eyes. “What do you expect me to do, run the whole way to Asylum?”

Glade gave his trainee a broad smile.

“You’re kidding,” Kedryn stammered, looking down at his nicer set of clothes, then back up to Glade. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Not even in the slightest.”

“But… but…” Kedryn said, a horrified look growing on his face as Glade watched the Kid’s mind race to find a way to get out of the day’s planned exercise.

“But what?” Glade asked with a raised eyebrow, his smile never wavering.

“But… I was going to practice my magic!” Kedryn said in a way that sounded like it was more of a question than a statement.

“Oh, I can help ye practice yer magic while ye run!” Bragden laughed, holding up his mug of meade like he was saluting the boy.

Kedryn’s shoulders fell in defeat.

“Here’s to the training die hards!” Gent laughed, draining his second mug of meade. Glade had to admit, the dwarf looked a great deal better than he had earlier this morning. “At least its not me thats down there1”

“I was thinking it would be a great idea if you joined us,” Glade smiled at him innocently. “Wouldn’t you agree Bragden? Might help make that barrel of meade last a bit longer if Gent was otherwise occupied.”

“You done read my mind!” Bragden laughed uproariously, pushing Gent off the wagon.

“Now wait a slagging minute,” Gent spluttered, pushing himself up out of the dirt. “Whose going to drive the wagon?”

“We already have that covered,” Glen drawled before motioning to one of his men to take over. “We weren’t going to actually let you drive.”

“Dont’ worry Gent! I’ll join you as well!” Cirea laughed, throwing her two-handed great sword into the wagon before going through a quick warm up.

“Sounds like a party,” Glade said, rubbing his hands together. Kedryn and Gent groaned.