Clay watched his opponent shift her feet in front of him. His spear was heavy in his hands, and he adjusted his grip on the shaft. They’d already been fighting for nearly half an hour now, and neither of them showed any sign of slowing down. He grimaced slightly; his opponent was supposed to have a much lower [Fortitude] than him, so how was she still doing so well?
She shifted on her feet, and he forced those thoughts aside. He thought she was supposed to have lower [Valor] as well, but she was moving so fast that—
He barely managed to complete the thought when she moved. She crossed the distance between them in an eyeblink, her sword lashing out at his head. Clay reacted immediately, turning his spear to deflect the attack even as he pivoted painfully to the side. It was still almost not enough; he felt the wind of the thrust pass his cheek, and the impact on his spear haft seemed like it should have shattered it.
At the same time, Clay grinned. She’d finally made a mistake. He leaned in and shoved, knocking his opponent backwards. Impossible speed notwithstanding, he still had the edge on [Might], and he heard her grunt as he batted her halfway across the clearing. Before she could recover, he dashed in, his spear held so that it was aimed straight at her face.
Which was when Syr Katherine turned to look at him and smiled. Clay’s eyes widened as she let go of her sword hilt with one hand and pointed at him. The [Calculator] didn’t say anything; she’d been quiet since they started the bout, and he’d learned the hard way that her [Charms] no longer required anything like a spoken trigger. Her palm glowed with magic, and Clay threw himself to the side just in time.
A spear of ice erupted from Syr Katherine’s hand, missing Clay by mere inches. He spun in time to see her once again falling into a crouch. She was going to lunge at him again, and he was still off balance from the [Charm]. Clay gritted his teeth and tried to brace himself, or at least get his footing before—
It was too late. Another eyeblink, and Syr Katherine had flashed past him, her practice blade smacking against his shoulder. It wasn’t a hard hit; in fact, it was abnormally weak for someone moving that fast. Clay still rubbed at it with a grimace. “A good hit, Syr.”
Syr Katherine turned back to him and nodded. Her brown eyes had a certain kind of satisfaction in them as she stepped back. “Thank you, Sir Clay. You are improving.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He shook his head ruefully. “What did you call that [Feat] again? It seems incredibly fast.”
“It’s the [Brave Strike] [Feat], I believe.” Master Taylor sounded bored. She was sitting off to the side of the sparring area, flipping idly through a book she’d brought from Crownsguard. “That’s not how she’s moving that fast, however.”
Syr Katherine looked over at her fellow adventurer and raised an eyebrow. Taylor rolled her eyes. “Did you really expect me to not figure it out?”
Clay looked back and forth between them. They hadn’t been the most cordial of traveling companions on the journey from Crownsguard, and he still wasn’t sure how to walk the balance between them without offending one or the other. “Is it some kind of secret?”
Taylor opened her mouth, but Syr Katherine spoke first, her voice cool. “Not precisely, though I’m surprised you learned of it, Master Taylor. It doesn’t seem like it would be your area of expertise.”
“Until recently, you’d have been correct. Since I ran across some of them recently, however…” Taylor grinned at Clay. “It’s called an Exchange [Chant]. It allows a hero to shift some of the benefits of one [Stat] to another temporarily. In this case Syr Katherine was moving some of her [Might] to her [Valor]. That, combined with the natural speed and strength of [Brave Strike], allows her to reach the speed you’re talking about.”
Clay blinked. He thought back over the past few clashes with Katherine and nodded slowly. “That seems… extremely useful.”
Syr Katherine remained silent, but Taylor just shrugged. “I suppose so, though it does have some weaknesses outside of a friendly spar. It can give you the chance to surprise someone, though. For example…”
The scholar began muttering something under her breath, and Clay strained to hear the words. They sounded a little familiar somehow, though he couldn’t say whether it was because he’d heard them before, or because they carried the familiar cadence of a [Chant]. It ended before he made up his mind, and the slender woman leaned over to pick up a rock in one hand.
Then she clenched her fist and the stone shattered, leaving her to shake the fragments out of her palm. Clay blinked in surprise. It was the kind of thing he’d have expected Orn to do. Speaking of which…
He looked over at where the Armsman was sitting, watching them from where he sat on a log. The [Fighter] turned armorer seemed disinterested in the magic, however. Instead, he looked at Clay and shook his head. “You need to watch your spacing, Sir Clay. No matter how fast she is, you have the advantage in reach. I know I helped you learn how to use it.”
The rebuke was delivered in an even enough voice, but Orn was clearly still ill at ease. Clay felt a brief moment of guilt over the fact that the Armsman was here at all. When the Council had decided to send him back to Pellsglade, they had also sent him with some minders. Orn, Taylor, and Syr Katherine were all technically absolved from adventuring duties, thanks to injuries or service rendered. Now they were all headed back into danger just to make sure he didn’t get up to anything the Council wouldn’t like.
Clay nodded and set himself. This time, he noticed Syr Katherine saying something quietly, under her breath. He waited until it finished, and this time he could almost see the change settle over her. It was as if her sword suddenly took a bit more effort to move, but each movement was far, far quicker.
As Clay watched her, he moved his hands further back on the spear haft, leaving more of the weapon extended out into the space between them. Syr Katherine’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her feet shifted. Clay suppressed a grin as he waited for her to charge again.
When she did, Clay reacted with an attack instead of a block. He leaned forward and struck at her, aiming to stab her straight in the chest. Syr Katherine struck at his spear, aiming to smack her blade across his fingers, but Clay just pulled back enough that her blade struck the haft instead of his hand. She still had to break off her attack to avoid the spearpoint, and before she could change tactics, Clay pressed the attack. He moved forward, batting aside her practice blade and stabbing repeatedly.
He drove Katherine backwards across the small clearing, trying not to allow her enough distance to use one of her [Charms] on him. She didn’t have as many of those as she had [Feats], but the ones she had used before were dangerous enough.
Clay swung hard at her midsection and was rewarded by a grunt as she blocked it. Her [Chant] was broken by the sound, and as her speed abandoned her, Clay darted in to finish the job. He choked up on the spear haft, and then stepped in close, bringing the spearpoint up towards her ribs.
At that moment, Syr Katherine’s eyes hardened, and one of her hands abruptly shot out and grabbed his spear. For just a moment, he found she had stopped his forward momentum cold. It didn’t last long, but it still gave her the chance to bring her own blade up and under his spear to catch him across the gut.
The blow landed quite a bit harder than her first hit had. Clay staggered a bit and then rubbed the spot where the hit had landed. He’d still felt it through the practice armor, but he didn’t think he’d bruise at all. This time.
Taylor frowned, her book temporarily forgotten. “The [Weapon Catch] [Feat]? Not something I would have expected from you, Syr Katherine.”
Syr Katherine nodded. “Very few people do. When employed at the right moment, however…”
The other adventurer nodded. “Yes. I see your point.” Then she looked over at the rest of the camp, where the others were moving around and packing their things to go. “As much as it has been enlightening to watch this form of training, I do believe that the others are ready to leave.”
Syr Katherine nodded, and Clay let out a breath of relief. The Council hadn’t been the only one to send people to keep an eye on Clay. King John had apparently wanted to have information on the ‘Commoner Hero’ as well. He’d insisted on sending along a small escort of his personal [Guards] to accompany Clay and his teachers on their way.
The soldiers had maintained a professional distance from him and the adventurers, but Clay often felt like they were watching him out of the corners of their eyes as they went about their journey. He thought he recognized a couple from his time doing patrols back in Crownsguard, and they had waved to him and exchanged a few words, but mostly they just watched and followed. It was more than a little unnerving, and just one more reminder of how glad he would be to put the politics of Crownsguard and the Academy behind him.
Shaking his head, Clay took a moment to check his [Gift]. He’d trained hard at the Academy after he returned from Rodcliff, but occasionally after one of Syr Katherine’s spars, it took a bit more to remember how far he’d come.
[Clay Evergreen]
[Class: Commoner] {Level 12} (All Stats have a maximum of 27)
[Subclass: Laborer (Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing repetitive tasks)]
[Soul: 250/1200]
[Stats] {Might: 27} {Fortitude: 27} {Insight: 27} {Memory: 27} {Valor: 27} {Will: 27}
[Experiences]
{Farmhand: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing Farming activities. Gain Planting, Harvesting, and Husbandry skills.}
{Hunter: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting wildlife. Gain Trapping and Tracking skills.}
{Slayer II: Gain 20% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.}
{Forrester: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of a forested area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in a forested area.}
{Watcher: Gain Analysis Skill. Gain 10% bonus to Tracking skill}
{Ambusher: Gain Hide Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all attacks from hiding. Gain 10% bonus to Trapping skill.)}
{Exterminator II: Gain triple the bonus from all Bane Achievements.}
{Determined: Fatigue lessened by 10%. Wounds heal 5% faster. Gain 10% bonus to repetitive or familiar activities.}
{Defiant II: Gain 40% bonus to all skills when facing an opponent of a higher level.}
{Smallmage: Can chant minor Chants 10% faster. Gain 20% effectiveness for minor Chants.}
{Valiant: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when facing multiple opponents.}
{Warsinger: Gain Lyricist Skill. Can complete all Chants 20% faster.}
{Mentor: Gain 5% bonus to all skills when leading lower level heroes. Allied heroes gain 20% bonus to all skills.}
{Unseen: Gain 20% to all attempts to hide. Gain 10% to all damage and skills while hiding.}
{Banisher: Gain permanent access to the Chant of Garden’s Peace. Gain 10% speed and effectiveness for all Chants.}
{Seeker: Gain Ethereal Sense Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.}
{Leader: Gain Inspire Skill. Gain 5% bonus to all skills when leading heroes. Allied heroes gain 10% bonus to all skills.}
{Stubborn: Fatigue lessened by 20%. Wounds heal 10% faster.}
{Whisperer: Gain 10% bonus to minor Chants. Gain 10% bonus to the speed and effectiveness of all Chants.}
{Duelist: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when facing an enemy one on one.}
{Relentless: Fatigue lessened by 15%. Gain 15% bonus to repetitive or familiar activities.}
{Guide: Gain Mapping Skill. Gain 20% bonus to Analysis and Track Skills. Movement speed increases by 10%.}
{Tunneler: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of an underground area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in an underground area.}
{Champion: Gain 20% bonus to all skills and damage when facing a Guardian.}
[Achievements]
{Spiderbane: 30% increase to all skills and damage against spiders. Bonus increases to 60% versus Mantrap Spiderlings, Troll Spiderlings, Mature Mantrap Spiders, Mature Troll Spiders, Elder Troll Spiders, and Elder Mantrap Spiders.}
{Corpsebane: 5% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 10% versus Rotted Levies and Wretched Corporals.}
{Lizardbane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against lizards. Bonus increases to 30% versus Flame Wretches, Flame Devils, and Flame Horrors.}
{Slimebane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against slimes. Bonus increases to 30% versus Small Ironslimes, Large Ironslimes, and Giant Ironslimes.}
{Paragon: All skills gain 20% effectiveness around fellow heroes.}
{Combat Generalist: Gain Tactician Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all damage in combat.}
{Warrior Poet: Gain 40% bonus to Lyricist Skill. Gain 10% bonus to the speed of all Chants.}
{Unyielding Spirit: Fatigue lessens by 5%. Wounds heal 10% faster. Gain 10% damage resistance.}
The list of [Experiences] and [Achievements] was gratifyingly long, but he obviously had a way to go before he could begin to match his instructors. At the very least, their mission would help with that goal, as well as getting him further from the Council.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Luckily, their journey would come to an end sooner rather than later. Pellsglade was close; if they pushed their pace, they could be there just after lunch. Clay realized he was grinning from ear to ear as he went with the others to pack up their own supplies. It was going to be good to return home.
Just a short time later, Clay was counting the steps until he could see his family’s farm.
It was a wonderful spring day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Clay Evergreen was on his way home. All was right with the world.
He’d been picking out landmarks that were achingly familiar for the past hour, places he’d half-expected to never see again. There was the hill he’d chased a badger down, tripping and going head over heels into a thornbush. On the other side of the road was the patch of woods where he and Enessa and Charles had practiced wrestling one another, imagining themselves to be future heroes. He wondered where his friends were now, and if they were safe.
When he saw the old oak tree, standing like a lone sentinel at the bend in the road, he knew they were almost there. Sure enough, as their cluster of travelers swung around the bend, the Evergreen family farm came into view.
Just the sight of the old fence brought back a rush of emotions. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself sitting on that fence with his father, staring out into the evening together. He saw himself riding the cart into town for his Choosing, not so long ago, yet somehow an eternity in the past. It was hard to restrain the grin that spread across his face as he strode down the road, suddenly not caring very much at all about how he was outpacing the [Guards] and their entourage.
When he drew closer, however, Clay frowned. The fields were fine—it looked like Sam and the others had already been hard at work preparing the early spring crop, which was growing nicely—but the house and the surrounding land were empty and quiet. He couldn’t see any movement among the wheat, or noise from the rest of the farm, except for the barn. It was as if his family had suddenly vanished at some point.
He glanced at the others and shrugged. Then he walked over and jumped the fence, trotting towards the closed door of his family home.
More memories rushed through him as he approached the old, time-worn door. They hadn’t locked the thing, so all he needed to do was push it open to see what was inside.
There was no one home. Will and Amy weren’t bickering over some small trifle, Saphy wasn’t pouting in the corner over a lack of attention, and Finn wasn’t toddling about making mischief. His mother wasn’t shepherding the whole chaotic mess through the day, and his father wasn’t relaxing for a moment from his labors. No one was there.
It wasn’t abandoned, however. The place had been consistently cleaned. In fact, now that he looked closer, it was almost suspiciously clean. Amelia Evergreen had never been a sloppy person, but there was a reason that she was a [Scribe] and not a [Cleaner]. Yet try as he might, he couldn’t find a speck of dust or a single thing out of place.
As he stood there, frowning, he caught sight of a folded piece of parchment set out on the table. He walked over to it, careful to not trail any dirt in from the road. His mother wouldn’t appreciate him ruining her hard work, after all.
He picked up the page and saw his mother’s handwriting on it. The sight of her familiar, tightly organized scrawl brought another smile to his face, at least until he started to read.
Son,
We heard you were coming today, and the baron has decided to make a bit of an event of it. Don’t take it too hard; with his son gone, the man could use something to celebrate, and you’ve done plenty that deserves it from what we’ve heard.
Come down to the village center, near the Choosing stone, and bring whatever poor companions you’ve managed to drag along with you. We’ll all be excited to meet them, and hear about how difficult you’ve been making their lives.
We love you, son, and cannot wait to see you again. Welcome home.
There was no signature, but there didn’t need to be one. Clay chuckled to himself, tucking the note away so that he could keep it. There was something about distance and travel that made him appreciate the memories of home all that much more, and he had learned to hold on to those reminders for when this calm, peaceful place seemed so very far away.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Syr Katherine stepping through the doorway. She looked around, her cool gaze sweeping over the humble furnishings with an arched eyebrow. Clay cleared his throat, and she returned her attention to him. “Your family is not here?”
“No. Turns out they knew we were coming today, so they’ve gotten things ready in the village.” Clay shook his head and sighed. “I hope you like village festivals.”
Syr Katherine made a face. “I…suppose we will endure it. At least the baron will be able to show us to our accommodations afterwards?”
Clay nodded. “He’s there too, from the sounds of it.”
“Then let us be off. We do not have so much time.” She paused long enough to give the house another slow look. “You have a very good home, Sir Clay. I hope you continue to do it much honor.”
Before he could respond, the [Calculator] was already gone, striding back to where the others were waiting on the road. Clay looked after her for a moment, and then down at where her boots had left a clump of dirt on the otherwise-spotless floor.
He stared for a moment and then grabbed a broom from beside the door. Hero or not, there were some things that no Evergreen would ever let slide. It wouldn’t even take that long, regardless.
The music reached Clay’s ears long before they reached the village. It was just as terrible as he remembered.
His people really did try, honestly. Pellsglade had a deep and lasting musical tradition, where anyone who could cobble together an instrument played during every festival they could attend. Unfortunately, Pellsglade had just as deep a tradition of being supremely awful at playing any kind of music. He could see Orn trying to hold back a laugh, while Taylor shook her head in clear disgust.
Laughter was also quite traditional, however, and those sounds brought more of a smile to Clay’s face as they drew closer. It seemed like the entire village was gathered, eating and drinking and belting out something that approached a musical tone. He remembered the celebration after the Tanglewood was pacified and heard echoes of that same festival in this fresh happiness.
Yet it was clear the village was not entirely the same one that he had left. Pellsglade remained small, of course. It was really barely any more than a cluster of shops and houses that had coincidentally gathered around a handful of roads. The village Shrine rose on one side, easily the biggest building in the village proper, with the baron’s manor some distance away and tucked out of sight behind a nearby hill. After the massive size of Crownsguard, it almost seemed like even more of a humble backwater by comparison.
Now, however, there were far more buildings here than Clay remembered, and there were still more being constructed. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of an entire cluster of tents that had been set up to the west of the town, in a field that had once been left fallow and unattended. Those definitely hadn’t been there the last time he had seen the place, and he wasn’t sure he enjoyed seeing it now. He remembered that the letters from home had mentioned newcomers to the village, but he hadn’t expected so many to camp out near his home.
He couldn’t say he liked it, though it was hard to say why. Maybe he just didn’t like the fact that Pellsglade had changed while he was gone. In his mind, it had stayed the same isolated place he’d always known, even while others were telling him otherwise.
Clay shook his head and looked around the milling crowds for people he could recognize. His family had to be there somewhere, and he wanted to—
“He’s here! He’s here!”
The shout made him blink, and it echoed rapidly through the crowd. Music that had been crashing along just fine suddenly fell even more to pieces before going silent, and more and more of the mob of people were staring at him. He glanced at the other adventurers and saw amused smiles on their faces. Taylor made a gentle encouraging motion, and Clay sighed.
He strode forward, hoping it wouldn’t be too bad this time. The bards and minstrels in Crownsguard had been bad enough; he hadn’t ever wanted people to sing songs about him or tell stories. Facing the same thing here, in his home, was a nightmare he hadn’t expected. Didn’t they remember who he was?
His worries dissipated a moment later as he heard someone yell his name. He looked over and saw Saphy slip between two people he didn’t recognize and then tear off running towards him. Clay’s worries fell away, and he crouched down for his little sister to run right into his arms at full speed. The impact probably would have knocked him off his feet if he hadn’t had his [Fortitude] right at his maximum; as it was, he just grunted and grinned as Saphy’s arms went tight around him.
“You’re finally home! Did you fight more monsters on the way back? How many times did you see the King?”
Clay laughed as the stream of questions continued. He was a little distracted when Amy arrived a moment later, followed closely by Will, who’d been slowed down by having Finn on his shoulders. He drew the whole lot of them into a hug, squeezing carefully to keep from hurting them, even as they yelled and shouted and asked him question after question without waiting for an answer.
He was still trying to answer as much as he could when his parents arrived, their eyes worried and satisfied and proud all at once. Sam looked like he’d done his best to clean himself after working in the fields, and he hugged Clay tighter than Clay had expected from a mere [Farmer]. Amelia seemed to give him a quick inspection, as if looking for wounds or signs of neglect, and perhaps imagining them if they weren’t present. They joined in the group hug, even as the rest of Pellsglade crowded in around them.
Clay barely even saw the crowd, however. His attention was only on the knot of family wrapped around him; everything else was just a distant blur. He was back, and his family was safe. What else mattered?
It took a while for things to calm down, and by the time they did, Clay found himself at a table filled with food. His family had crowded in around him, almost like a protective shield against the curious onlookers. Most of the people understood; those newcomers who didn’t were gently encouraged to move on for now.
The only exceptions were the adventurers and Baron Pellsglade, though they were still on the outskirts of the Evergreen family circle. Orn was tucking into the food with enthusiasm, while Taylor just seemed amused at the festival in general. Syr Katherine was eating quietly, her cool gaze evaluating their surroundings.
Clay, for his part, had enough to do between eating the food in front of him and answering questions about what he’d been doing for the past few months. Apparently, having written to them just hadn’t been enough; Will and the others had demanded he rehearse the whole of the mission to Rodcliff, along with his training and the Melees he had participated in. He was careful with his answers, of course—he doubted his teachers would be happy about any mention of what he’d learned about [Chants], as well as the Rogue that had started things in Rodcliff—but he explained everything that he could.
As his explanations wound down, his father grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him affectionately. Sam Evergreen’s expression was full of pride, mingled with hope. “Well, son, you’ve done well. We’ve missed you around here, but we’re proud of you. We all are.”
“Thanks, Dad.” He took the opportunity to stuff another bite of bread into his mouth, which gave his father the chance to turn his attention to Syr Katherine.
“I understand you’re here to help with the Dungeon near Sarlsboro?”
His father’s voice went a little flat at the end of the question. He had never been able to speak about the place where his family had lived—and died—without feeling flickers of grief. Syr Katherine nodded solemnly, her eyes intent.
“Yes. Sir Clay is the Guild’s newest peer, and the Council has determined that he should receive some experience with some of the Guild’s more dangerous work.”
Baron Pellsglade frowned; he’d had a vaguely distracted expression for most of the conversation, except when Clay had mentioned running into Charles at the Academy. “I had thought that my son and his companions had driven the Undead back while they were here. Did the Guild not find their work acceptable?”
Orn was the one to answer, waving the gauntlet that had replaced his hand. “They did a respectable job with cutting back some of the outside forces, but the problem is deeper inside, I’m afraid. Your son and his party would not have been able to solve it without putting themselves at extreme risk.”
Sam’s expression grew shadowed with worry. “You’re saying it will be dangerous?”
Syr Katherine looked at him calmly. “There is always danger in what we do, Goodman Evergreen. The Guild has, however, sent a capable group of adventurers to guide him through the experience. You can trust us.”
His father sat back in his seat, seemingly reassured for the moment. The look he gave Clay, however, suggested his parents were going to be speaking with him about it when they had the chance. Clay swallowed the bite he’d been chewing and gave Sam a smile that he hoped would seem comforting.
While he did that, however, Taylor spoke up from where she had once again taken out a book, her food long since finished. “You really should have more confidence in Sir Clay, actually. He has shown an admirable ability to persevere in adverse circumstances. He’ll be an incredible asset to the Guild and the Kingdom in the future.”
Sam gave the [Artifactor] a cynical look, but it was his mother who spoke first. “I think I would find it more comfortable if you considered him a friend and an ally, rather than an asset, Syr Taylor.”
Taylor blinked and looked up from her book. “Ah, yes. Of course. I misspoke.” She waved a negligent hand as if to dismiss the concern. “I only meant to reassure you that from what I saw while we instructed Sir Clay, he has been more than capable of dealing with anything we’ll encounter inside the Dungeon.”
Amelia nodded, though her eyes remained far too sharp for Clay’s tastes. “Yes. Your instruction. Where you ‘took care’ of some of the notes my son had made.” She smiled, and every single one of Clay’s memories from his well-disciplined childhood came roaring back. He broke out into a cold sweat. “As a [Scribe], I’ve been looking forward to discussing that with you, Syr Taylor.”
The [Artifactor] blinked, and her eyes darted to Syr Katherine. “I, ah, look forward to that conversation as well, Goodwoman Evergreen.”
Clay coughed lightly. He suspected nothing could be further from the truth, and a glance at his father told him that Sam felt likewise. Even his siblings were hiding horrified or amused expressions, all except for Finn, who was more interested in the food in front of him.
Orn appeared to be restraining his own grin as well, though Clay could still hear the amusement in his voice as he came back into the conversation. “Well, while you are discussing the Academy, I must confess I have my own reasons for coming here. Where is David?”
Baron Pellsglade seemed mystified. “The [Smith]?”
“Indeed!” Orn spread his arms. “I have appreciated plenty of his work at the Academy already, and I would love to have the chance to compare notes! Do you think he would allow me the chance to watch him work?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” The baron seemed a bit off balance at the prospect of a high-level adventurer exchanging tips with the village [Smith], but he pushed through it. “At the moment, I’m not sure where he is, but I can arrange for you to speak with him tomorrow. I imagine you plan to head south early?”
Syr Katherine nodded. “We do. The sooner that we can engage the Dungeon, the better.”
The baron seemed far more comfortable now, and he smiled. “Then it will be my privilege to offer you accommodations for the night, as well as supplies for your camp. Although, I will admit that providing the same for the King’s men will leave me short of rooms.” He glanced at Clay, and his smile grew a little more sincere. “Although I suppose you already have a place to stay, Sir Clay. Your farm is still doing well, in case you were wondering.”
Clay snorted, though he couldn’t keep from grinning as well. “So I’ve heard. Thank you for helping my family maintain the place.”
“Why wouldn’t I? After all, I gave it to you.” The Baron poked at his food again, spearing a piece of meat with his fork. “Though you certainly put it to better use than I had expected. Do you think you will stay long once your time in the Dungeon is done?”
He glanced at the adventurers before he answered. “I’m… not sure. I have some promises to keep, but once that is done, I’ll probably try to help out wherever I can.”
His parents exchanged a brief look, and the Baron smiled. “I would have expected nothing less, Sir Clay.”
Taylor cleared her throat, still attempting to avoid looking in his mother’s direction. “There is someone that I would like to speak with as well, before we leave. Is Olivia Shrinekept here?”
This time, the Baron and his parents all exchanged a quick look. The Baron was the one who answered, his voice unusually cautious. “The Novice had a… disagreement with Rector Semmons about whether she should attend today’s festivities. He felt her time would be better spent preparing for her Choosing.”
Syr Katherine raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
Amelia nodded. “The Rector has been… firm with Olivia lately. He feels like she should avoid certain activities, and is worried that she will jeopardize herself if he isn’t careful with her.”
Clay frowned. It didn’t sound like the Olivia he knew. “Like what?”
Sam coughed into his hand. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “I believe he mentioned something about getting herself nearly eaten by spiders, son.”
“Oh.” Clay grimaced. Before he’d left, the Rector had developed a habit of giving him dirty looks. Semmons hadn’t quite blamed him for Olivia being dragged into the Tanglewood, but he clearly felt that a particular [Commoner] shared a good portion of the blame. Distance had obviously failed to convince him to reconsider his opinions. “That sounds a little… harsh.”
Baron Pellsglade shook his head. “I advised the Rector that it will do him no good to try to control the [Youth]. The gods choose our destinies however they care to.” It was a convenient bit of advice, given how desperately the Baron had wanted his son to become a [Noble] and stay at home where he’d be safe. If he had the chance, he would definitely have wrangled things into place for Charles to return home as soon as he could, whatever destiny the gods had planned.
Sam nodded along with the baron, though he snuck a quick smile in Clay’s direction. “I suppose so, my lord. At the very least, he only has another handful of weeks to worry about it. Her Choosing will resolve things, I hope.”
Clay very carefully did not look at the adventurers who had come with him. He was aware, if the others weren’t, that half of Syr Katherine and the others’ mission from the Guild was to be present for the Choosing and make sure that a particular Olivia Shrinekept didn’t cause any trouble the way he had. Given the way she was already fighting the Rector, he doubted they were going to find much success in their attempt.
Taylor’s thoughts seemed to follow in the same pattern. “Perhaps I could visit her at the Shrine, then.”
The Baron shook his head firmly. “I believe the Rector would find the presence of any adventurers unwelcome at the moment. Until the Choosing is done, at least.” Before Clay could even ask, the Baron gave him a steady look that told him he was included in the same category. Taylor grimaced and went back to her book with an elaborate sigh. He thought he could hear her muttering something about disagreeable farmwives and unreasonable Rectors.
He turned back to his food and ate another bite, hoping that Olivia was doing fine. He’d just have to arrange for a chance to see her at some point, before the Choosing. After everything that she’d done for him, he owed her at least that much.