The crowd of people waiting for him in the barn was more intimidating than Clay wanted to admit. They all looked at Clay like he was some kind of figure from a storybook, and when he asked them to get ready to leave, they leaped to gather their equipment and supplies together. There were eight of them, carrying a variety of different weapons and tools, from simple woodaxes to old swords.
All of them looked far too excited, except for the sour-faced young man Clay had noticed at the Choosing. He carried a sledgehammer that looked like it had seen hard use. His name was Andrew Cooper, and his family had come to Pellsglade after a bandit raid had burned part of their village to the north. They had come to Pellsglade to search for a new life, and Andrew had every intention of making sure he could keep them safe.
Not all of them carried that kind of story. Lana Towers was simply looking for the chance to have her own adventures sung by minstrels; she’d apparently followed Clay from Crownsguard. James Fields and Elizabeth Wheatrose had both come to Pellsglade looking for work, and had been caught up in the chance to become adventurers after all. Elizabeth’s brother, Peter, seemed to mostly be along for the ride so he could keep an eye on his younger sibling, while Sal Shepherd, Pauline Fargrain, and Arthur Hopper had all leapt at the chance to leave behind fields and apprenticeships that they had viewed as boring.
They all shook Clay’s hand and promised not to let him down. Clay told them he’d do his best to keep them safe, which some of them scoffed at, and then encouraged them to get ready. They’d have to make good time to keep ahead of Syr Katherine, after all.
Olivia caught up with him as they were piling their gear onto the cart, all chattering happily. She glanced at them before she spoke to him in a voice low enough that they couldn’t overhear it. “You really don’t need to bring them, Clay. I know you’ve mentioned the [Chants] could be dangerous before, in the wrong hands. I haven’t taught them anything.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “And who have you been teaching? Aside from my mom, of course.”
She blushed. “Actually, your dad wanted to learn a little, too. His [Memory] is just about high enough to start using the minor [Chants] already. I’m betting he’s planning on using things like the Mule’s Dismay to make up for us ‘stealing’ his cart.”
Clay winced and tried to hold on to the hope that his father would at least keep the magic out of the sight of most of the village. “Who else?”
“Well, the Baron wanted to know what else I had found, obviously. And Adam had wanted to know a little more, in exchange for some of my supplies.” She shifted the scythe on her shoulder. “Then there was David. He was curious about how I’d gotten Adam to help me, and it seemed like I should be able to trust him. Herb was a bit interested too, so he got a copy…”
He heaved a slow, heavy sigh. “Is there anyone in the village you haven’t taught?”
She gave him a glare that didn’t have much heat in it. “You weren’t quite as concerned when I was teaching you the things, were you? Besides, I didn’t give them anything dangerous. Most of the combat [Chants] they can’t even use until they get a bunch of levels, which they won’t, and the only really dangerous one you never even shared with me.”
Clay grunted. “I guess that’s a good point.” He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s just… the Guild takes this kind of thing seriously. They may be accepting what we are doing now, but they’re already going to fight us on that. Olivia, they don’t even want to teach adventurers [Chants] before they hit level thirteen. If they hear we are teaching [Commoners] the spells…”
Her glare softened. “You let me worry about that. You’ve got enough on your mind already.” Sal and Andrew bumped into each other. They started to squabble a bit before Elizabeth and Lana scorned them back into good order. “Just get us to Janburg, and help me destroy the things in the Lair there. Everything else will fall into place.”
He doubted it would be that simple, but Clay nodded anyway. After all, it wasn’t like he had a lot of other choices at the moment.
It wasn’t long before the group of [Guards] came back along the road. They looked far more ready and professional compared to the gaggle of [Commoners] that were waiting for them, and Clay could have sworn that he saw at least one or two of them smirk when they thought the others weren’t looking.
To his surprise, however, they weren’t alone. Rector Semmons was with them, and he walked over to Olivia and Clay with a hurried stride.
Clay opened his mouth to try to defend Olivia, but the Rector beat him to the punch. “Olivia, you nearly forgot your good cloak. I put an extra set of parchment and another bottle of ink in with it, along with my good knife.”
She blinked and accepted the bundle of items from him hesitantly. “Thank you. I am sorry I made you come all this way.”
“Nonsense. I would have come anyway. I couldn’t say goodbye properly, not with those adventurers watching.” He gave Clay a wary look, like a rooster eying a grub. “They are already working on the baron, you should know. Poor Martin is going to do well just to hold out for the afternoon, honestly.”
Clay grunted, and Semmons looked back at Olivia. “Now, I want letters every week, more often if things get serious. Don’t let the adventurers push you into anything you don’t want to do; I’ve given you the letters for Rector Parlen, and one for the High Rectory in Crownsguard if you need them.” He paused and looked away for a moment. When he looked back, his eyes were suspiciously wet, and his voice was even rougher than usual. “And remember, if something should happen, if anything should happen, you will always have a home here. Always, without question. Do you understand me, girl?”
Olivia stared back at the Rector, apparently at a loss for words. “I do, Den. Thank you.”
The Rector blinked and then nodded. He turned to Clay, who was still trying to adjust to hearing the Rector’s first name for the first time. “As for you, young man, you’ve got her caught up in all this, but you’re also the one who saved her life. I need to depend on you to do it again now. Can I trust you?”
The question caught Clay almost completely off guard. He nodded. “Yes, Rector, you can.”
“Good. I hope I don’t need to regret it.” The Rector’s voice promised a grim future if Clay failed his expectations. It was as threatening as anything Syr Katherine or the Council had ever said, and Clay swallowed a little before he answered.
“You won’t.”
The Rector nodded. “Once you’re finished with your own farewells, I’m going to speak with your parents for a moment, just to get our stories straight for the adventurers. I expect you to be gone by the time we’re finished.” He drew in a deep breath. “Go then. Be safe, and triumph.”
Semmons gave Olivia one last hug and then stepped back. He gestured for Clay to go ahead of him into the house. Clay headed back up the stairs, where his family was waiting. It seemed like he hadn’t been in Pellsglade for long, and it was agonizing to leave again already, but it couldn’t be helped. All the same, he wished he’d just had a little more time.
The road out of Pellsglade seemed like a long one, but the group of [Commoners] still made good time. Between Dasher’s reluctant help, the eagerness of the collection of new recruits, and the disciplined help from the [Guards], by the time they made camp, they were nearly halfway to the next village.
They paused long enough to eat a quick meal of rations, and then they continued onwards. When people grew too tired to march, they took a short rest on the cart. Anyone who complained was told that they needed to work on their [Fortitude] anyway. Usually, it was enough to silence any complaints.
Unfortunately, even though they reached the next village before sundown, it didn’t mean their journey had absolutely no complications.
The village of Belsford was only a little larger than Pellsglade had been, before the wave of newcomers had arrived. Even now, while it lacked the unpleasant tent city, Belsford had far more actual buildings, and the farmland had been expanded around the village far more. It had none of the threats that Pellsglade had suffered from; there was never a Tanglewood looming on its northern border, and the Sarlwood was much further away. As a result, until recently, Belsford had been considered a much safer place to live, and had prospered as a result.
It wasn’t large enough that the caravan of [Commoners] avoided notice, however. Clay had them camp outside the middle of Belsford, and spent a good portion of the evening reassuring the local baron that they were only passing through, and didn’t require support.
While he was gone, however, the others apparently spent their time either resting, or explaining what they were going to do. Several of them, Sal included, were bragging about how much glory they would win and how many monsters they were going to kill.
By the time the caravan set out again, early the next morning, they had gained another pair of [Commoners], eager for their own share of the glory. Clay had tried to argue for them to remain behind, but he had no better success with them than he’d had with the initial group.
Belsford wasn’t alone, either. In each village, as the caravan passed through, word spread about what they were doing, and more and more [Commoners] joined. It got to the point where Clay deliberately started to avoid villages in order to keep the problem from getting worse. The Guild was already going to be unhappy with him; the last thing he needed was the adventurers or worse, the King, to start worrying that he was raising an army on the way to Janburg.
Unfortunately, Olivia wasn’t exactly very helpful, either. She spent every waking moment that she had, outside of traveling or eating, studying her own notes. It was like she’d been possessed with her own need to know the [Chants] she had uncovered. He often saw her still reading the parchment long into the night, after most of the rest of the camp had already gone to sleep.
The only real bright spots in the situation were the facts that the adventurers didn’t appear on the road behind them, and that Janburg was not as far away as he’d originally feared. Once they moved far enough west, the roads turned south again, eventually heading straight towards the southwestern borders of the kingdom.
Janburg was located in a valley in the shadow of a nearby mountain range. The peaks had once formed the border with Merarbor’s territory, at least before the Lair had consumed Zelton. Now, for all intents and purposes, Janburg was the only human settlement left in the area, the last bastion of the kingdom before the wilderness.
It looked like more of a small castle than a normal village. A wooden wall surrounded the place, with a tall stone tower on the southwestern side. Near the tower, a river ran past the place, winding its way past the town. There was a bridge built across it, and the remnants of an old path that led closer in towards the mountains. Clay’s eyes followed that path until it was lost in the distant hills.
The Lair had to be in that direction. He could already see the way the land changed on the other side of the river; there were furrows dug into the dirt, as if someone or something had created a trench to defend the town. It was a strange sight, given how little most monsters tended to care about walls and fortifications, but Janburg had held out for years at this point. Clay didn’t have much cause to criticize how they’d managed it.
It had taken five hard days of travel, but they had finally arrived.
“Welcome to Janburg, traveler.” Baroness Janburg gave him a small bow. The [Guards] behind her were watching the rest of the caravan of [Commoners] warily. “May I ask the purpose of your visit?”
Clay couldn’t help but grin at her question. It was obvious the Baroness was trying to figure out whether she was looking at a band of bandits. The presence of members of the King’s [Guards] might have helped her feel more secure, but it was clearly not enough for her to order her troops to relax. They wore solid-looking gambesons and metal helmets, and carried a mix of spears, swords, and shields in a way that told Clay they knew how to use them. He wondered, briefly, if any of them had been quietly helping the Baroness with her duties.
The Baroness herself was no less impressive a figure. She wore a breastplate over her own gambeson, with a helmet carried under her left elbow. A scar started partway up her left cheek and crawled down and across her lips, giving her a fearsome snarl. Her red hair was tied into a loose ponytail, keeping her blue eyes clear as she studied him.
Most importantly, in her right hand was a war scythe, one a little heavier and stronger than the one Olivia was carrying. Clay was tempted to glance back at her to confirm his suspicions that she’d been inspired by the Baroness’ weapon, but he sensed it would be a better decision to answer the [Noble]’s question first.
He bowed slightly. “Baroness Janburg, I am Clay Evergreen. You requested my help in a letter.”
The Baroness blinked. She frowned as she looked over the others. “I suppose I did, but I didn’t expect quite this many…”
Her words trailed off as her gaze fell on Olivia, who stood near the cart. The Baroness’ jaw dropped. “I-is that you? Olivia?”
Face red and her fingers clutched around the shaft of her own war scythe, Olivia stepped forward. “It is, Lady Janburg.”
The Baroness handed off her helmet and her war scythe, and was past Clay almost before he could register the move. She scooped Olivia up into a clearly crushing embrace a heartbeat later. “Little one! You must have had your Choosing this year, yes? What [Class]? Did the gods send you something so you could reclaim your home?”
Olivia’s face was still bright red as she stepped back from the embrace. She nodded. “I am a [Commoner], Lady Janburg. As is Sir Clay.”
A flash of surprise and confusion crossed Janburg’s expression. Then she looked over the assembled caravan again before her eyes settled on Clay again. Her expression grew hard. “I… see.” She nodded and gestured for her [Guards] to step forward. “Show them to our guest rooms. Sir Clay, you’ll have to forgive us. Our accommodations are not as fine as the ones in Crownsguard, but we’ll find space for you and your… retainers.”
Clay shook his head. “As long as you have space for us inside the walls, and maybe some food while we work, that should be enough.” He glanced back and saw disappointed looks on the others’ faces. Obviously, some of them were looking forward to being wined and dined by a [Noble]. “After all, before this I was fighting against a Dungeon and keeping watch part of the night. We’re here to work, not to be treated gently.”
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The other [Commoners] stiffened up a little, and Clay snorted to himself. He turned back and saw a flicker of approval in the Baroness’ expression. She nodded. “Very well. Sir Clay, if I could borrow a moment of your time while the others get settled in?”
He bowed slightly, and she led the way back into the village. The others began to unpack their belongings from the cart and mingle with the Janburg [Guards]. Clay just hoped that they’d be able to get everything sorted out easily enough.
After all, the next day was going to be a busy one.
The Baroness led him to her home, which turned out to be the stone tower he’d seen from the road. It was a blunt, uncompromising structure, one that made him think of a guardhouse for the soldiers in Crownsguard rather than a [Noble]’s home. There wasn’t any idle conversation as they walked, something that Clay appreciated as he looked over the village.
It looked like the place was stable enough, if infected by an understandable kind of paranoia. Conversations were hushed, and people peered at him with obvious curiosity. Some of them glanced up at the top of the tower, obviously checking for some kind of warning. Children played, but only close by their houses, and there were far more [Guards] than he’d ever seen back in Pellsglade.
They reached the tower, and the Baroness led the way into a room that had been built on the ground floor. It looked like an audience chamber, with her throne set into the stone floor, and banners hung from the ceiling of the room. She turned and sat in the chair, leaning back and examining him for a moment. “So. You’re the Commoner Hero.”
Clay looked back at her. “That’s what they call me, yes.”
The Baroness leaned forward in her chair, steepling her fingers and studying him another moment. “And you really came here to help us?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, Lady Janburg. Olivia told me you had requested it.” If Olivia had been… less than honest… things were going to get even more complicated.
“I had.” Janburg smiled. “Though to be honest, I didn’t really believe that you would come. The Guild has been remarkably tight-lipped about you, Sir Clay. They don’t answer questions about you, or the methods you use.”
Clay snorted. “Yeah. They probably don’t.”
The Baroness tilted her head, her eyebrows twitching at his tone. “Is there a reason, then?”
He shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t think they’re very comfortable with me. I have a tendency to be… inconvenient.”
“Is that so?” A smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I must admit, I have a similar reputation among my peers. They often seem like they would be happy to forget the Lair here exists.”
“Well, soon they’ll be able to, my lady.” Clay smiled. “You too, of course.”
The Baroness blinked. She sat back. “You’re aware this place is dangerous, correct? If you attempt to bring all of those [Commoners] with you into the Lair…”
Clay shook his head. “I’m not going to attack the Lair directly. At least, not yet.” He glanced in the direction of the river. “My plan is to spend a few weeks giving these people time to try to help. Once they level up and gain the [Achievement], we’ll push further into the Lair’s territory. Each week, we’ll try to kill enough of the monsters that they don’t get a chance to hit the village. By the time we’re ready, the Lair should be wide open for an attack.”
The Baroness’ frown had grown as he spoke. She shook her head. “That… does not sound like a normal Guild mission. Normally, adventurers prioritize faster strikes than that, correct?”
He sighed. “Yes, my lady, they do.” Then he looked her straight in the eyes. “Unfortunately, they aren’t here, and I am. What I’m doing will work, if you give it the chance. It worked in Pellsglade, and in Rodcliff too. I just need time.”
She studied him for a very long time. Then she snorted. “So be it. We’ve waited long enough already, after all.” Janburg settled her chin on her fist, and her elbow on the armrest. “Are you planning on including little Olivia with your… plans here? I’d expected her to stay in Pellsglade, unless she was an adventurer herself.”
Clay couldn’t help it this time. He chuckled. “You aren’t the only one she’s surprised, my lady. She’s almost as much of a headache for the Guild as I am, and I have no doubt she’ll be worse in no time.”
Janburg sat back again, blinking in surprise. “That seems… unlikely.”
“We’ll see.” Clay shook his head. “In any case, she’s chosen to be my apprentice, and you can be sure I’ll take good care of her and the others as well.”
The [Noble] was still frowning at him, but she shook herself out of her thoughts. “Good. I’d expect nothing less.” She nodded to herself. “While you are here, I’ll offer you the hospitality of the village and my house. You should be aware, though, that if anything happens to the last daughter of Zelton, my patience will be… strained.”
Clay grimaced. “I really wish people would stop assuming that I’m the one getting her into trouble.” She opened her mouth again, and he spoke quickly. “I understand, my lady. Now, I need to go get ready. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to scout the area so that we can get started. Does that sound all right?”
The Baroness nodded, and Clay breathed a brief sigh of relief. It was the first time he’d really had to deal with a local [Noble] who hadn’t known him personally. It hadn’t gone too badly; at least, she’d was allowing him to go hunt. “Then I’m going to go see that the camp is settled, my lady. Thank you for your help.”
Janburg nodded, seeming amused. “Of course, Sir Clay. If there is anything else I can do, just let me know.”
Clay made as if to leave and then paused. Then he smiled. “Now that you mention it, there is one thing…”
The others had set up the camp in the village square, around the Stone that Janburg used for the Choosing. It looked just as weathered as the one in Pellsglade had, and he spent a heartbeat looking at it before he moved on. If the gods had any more opinions about what he was doing, they didn’t choose that moment to reveal it.
He walked around the tents, making sure that everyone had settled in for the day. Some of the recruits were already speaking with the villagers, clearly spreading the news of what they were going to do. At least a few of the younger [Commoners] looked like they were listening a little too closely; Clay grimaced as he realized he might have a few more recruits than he’d expected to need to deal with soon.
Clay looked around and found where they had tied up Dasher. The mule was drinking from a trough and looking very satisfied to not be tied to the cart anymore. He stroked the beast’s back for a moment, earning a baleful glance in response.
After that, he went to where the King’s troops had set up a tent for him. He nodded uncomfortably to the [Guards] and poked his head inside, seeing that they’d set up his bedroll for him already. It was a small kindness, but it still made him feel a little uncomfortable. There was something about someone else touching his things that just didn’t sit right.
He sat down on the edge of his bedroll with a sigh. A moment of rummaging around his pack, and he brought out his notes. Clay sorted through them, bypassing the descriptions of the [Chants] in order to find the descriptions of the monsters that had destroyed Zelton.
He’d grown used to the vague instructions, combined with more precise illustrations that the old adventurer’s advice had provided. There was something frustratingly familiar and nostalgic about it, as if the lack of detail just invited him to guess at what the actual truth of the monsters that awaited him was like.
This time, however, he had two new sources of information alongside them. Olivia had added her own notes from her memories of Zelton’s fall, and the Baroness had told him what she could of the monsters that awaited them.
They were called swinefolk, and came in three separate types. The first was a massive creature called a wild smasher. Clay brushed his fingers over the illustration of a man with a shield, fending off the blows of a bulky, towering figure wielding two large war hammers. He winced as he looked at the tusked, twisted face of the thing, and read through what the ancient adventurer’s translated words said.
Wild smashers are thick of skin and mighty of brawn. Do not rely on distance alone to save you. They have no use for subtlety, and their strength is enough to break down walls. Move quickly, strike with power, and finish any that fall.
In the margins, Olivia’s writing had continued.
They can kill with a single blow. They really are larger than normal. Don’t underestimate the impact of each strike. Arrows bounced off. One [Guard] stabbed one with a spear. The wound healed.
Clay shivered as he pictured the memory. Janburg had confirmed the details as well, saying that the smashers were capable of enduring and healing from the worst wounds possible. She’d also been careful to say that only the strongest strikes could penetrate their leathery hide; he hadn’t enjoyed the doubtful looks she’d given his spear at that point.
He shook his head and turned to the next form. This time, the image showed a much larger, porcine humanoid, with much longer tusks and a single, massive hammer. It almost looked like some sort of meat tenderizer, with nine spikes on the back face of the squared hammerhead. In the illustration, it was beating down a stone wall, showering a crouching magic user with fragments of rock.
Wild crushers are stronger and tougher. Their hammers do not tire; walls are no barrier. Overcome their might with boldness. Strike at the eyes and ears. Do not allow them rest.
Olivia’s notes were briefer here.
Didn’t see much of these. Anyone who got too close to them never made it back.
Even the Baroness hadn’t much to say about them, aside from the fact that she’d only killed a few dozen during her entire time fighting them. She was of the opinion that it was hard to face them in a standup battle, but if they were forced to chase someone over a long distance, exhaustion weakened them. It was a good tactic to know.
Of course, he wasn’t sure it would help with the last form of them. It was a towering giant of muscle, hide, and tusk, one that was a shadow against a night sky. The hammer in its hands could have broken a Shrine’s wall in a single hit. Even the Baroness’ tower wouldn’t have held up for long, and its eyes blazed with power as it raised its weapon over a group of adventurers who stood against it.
Wild shakers are maddened with rage. Do not stand firm. Trust no ground. Flow about them, and strike while they weary. Persist.
Neither Olivia nor the Baroness said much about those beasts. Clay thought they probably were located much deeper in; the [Noble] had only been trying to keep the Lair from advancing, not counterattacking the monsters themselves, after all.
He turned to the next monster. This time, it was a much different creature. Where the smashers had been hulking and large, standing tall on two feet, this creature stood low to the ground. It crouched with a hunched posture. Two jagged blades were gripped in its beefy, footlike hands, and its porcine snout was low to the dirt.
Squealers are fast and agile. The wounds they make are terrible. Let no blade touch you, lest you bleed. Their voices call the horde to their aid. Silence them quickly, or regret your mistakes.
An image showed one of the things midjump, shrieking as it descended on an adventurer who held a spear ready to impale it. There was a second creature, already sprinting around the side on all fours, ready to strike from the side. Clay felt his eyes narrow as he studied the image. Something to watch for.
Olivia’s notes were helpful as well.
They can track people like dogs, sniffing along the ground. They found the ones that tried to hide, and squealed to bring the others. They chased so many of us down as we ran.
His fingers tightened on the parchment for a moment, before he forced himself to recall the Baroness’ advice. She hated the ‘little loud ones’ and considered them nothing but trouble. Apparently, they were almost as hard to kill, thanks to their agility, and their calls would help the creatures bury their opponents in enemies quickly.
Of course, they weren’t the worst threats there.
Shriekers do not pause, and do not rest. They track, they strike, they cripple, they kill. Do not hesitate. Magic can fail about them. Prepare, and survive.
The image wasn’t encouraging either. It had the same crouched form, but the blades in its hands had grown longer and more vicious, with hooks on the tips. It showed one of them leaping off of a tree trunk to strike at a very surprised-looking magic user. Olivia hadn’t seen much of the things, though her words were helpful there as well.
They said the shriekers helped kill our baron. Caught him and stopped his magic from working. We never knew for sure. Not many from his party came back.
The Baroness had been full of curses for the things. She said they could stop a [Charm] with their screams, and had gone on at length about how she’d needed to watch out for them in their territory. They were agile and accurate with their blades. If they were just as good at pursuit, it did not bode well for anyone trying to sneak by them.
When he looked at the final form of the things, Clay grunted a little. The image was of a blurred figure, one that had left three dead or dying adventurers in its wake. A fourth adventurer, a woman with a sword, had a panicked look on her face as she tried to put the blade between her and it.
Screechers deal wounds that do not heal. They break the air and baffle the eyes. Running is fruitless. Stand ready, and meet them.
Again, there were no further details. Clay supposed he’d need to find them himself.
The last of the three creatures, at least as far as the common monsters, seemed worst of all. It was drawn in the notes as a hunched figure. It wasn’t as massive as the smasher, or as low and agile as the squealer. There was a whip in its hands, and a tattered hooded robe cloaked it. If Clay had met it in the forest, he would have assumed it was a false threat or a puppet, like the levies of the Undead.
Another image showed the truth of the thing. It had extended its hand, and a ravening ball of nothing had shot from it.
Flesh eaters can channel emptiness and hunger itself. They are weak of body, but powerful in magic. Strike quickly, break their forms, and stay at a distance. Do not allow them time to bring their will to bear.
Olivia’s observations only made things worse, especially as they backed up the Baroness’ thoughts.
They led the assault on Zelton. They’d organized the others, and their whips drove them forwards. I saw someone kill a shrieker, and an eater used a spell to consume it and strengthen another one. Stay out of their reach.
It seemed like a good warning, considering how many times the Baroness had said that their spells had nearly ended her.
The next image was of another relatively fragile creature, covered in a cloak. This one, however, had larger eyes, and its whip was covered in thorns. A second illustration showed it shielding itself with a flat circle of emptiness while it lashed out at a nearby warrior.
Land eaters are dangerous. They wield their magic like a devouring storm. Overwhelm or surprise them, but do not risk open confrontations. Leave no dead.
The Baroness hadn’t seen much of this type, but Olivia had. It was a short note, but it said everything it needed to.
One led the attack on Zelton. It was the one that killed the baroness, after the baron died.
Clay nodded and turned to the last image. The creature wasn’t even there this time. Instead, it just showed a howling portal of some kind, dragging in a frantic adventurer, who was trying to hold onto the ground. When he read the description, it did not make it better.
Soul eaters can rend even the strongest from life. Avoid or destroy, but do not ignore. They watch, always.
He grimaced at the warning, and set the notes aside. If he’d learned anything, it was that there were surprises ahead, but at least he knew about some of them. There were still no clues about the types of Guardians he’d face at the Lair itself, but perhaps he’d find out more as he fought his way closer.
As he tucked the notes away again and stretched, he heard someone clear their throat nearby and looked over to find Olivia watching him.
Clay froze, realizing that she must have been watching him for a while. He tried not to look sheepish. “Is everything all right?”
She nodded. “I was just wondering what the Baroness had told you.”
“Just some of what she’d seen from the monsters, and a warning that I should take care of you.” Clay grinned. “Between her and the Rector, I’m starting to get worried about the impression I make on people.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you need to worry about it that much. After all, you’ve been pretty successful at not killing me so far.”
“I’m happy at least someone appreciates it.” For some reason, as he said the words, Clay’s mind flashed back to the moment before the assault on the Lair in the Tanglewood, when she’d kissed him on the cheek. He looked away, feeling his cheeks warm. “In any case, I’m heading across the river tomorrow. It’ll be good for me to see these things up close for myself.”
He paused. There was a difficult conversation he needed to have with Olivia, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to say it. He’d seen how much work she’d put into preparing herself, but it was still only a handful of days after her Choosing. Even if she wanted to, there was no way that he’d be able to bring her along with him. At the same time, how could he tell her she’d have to delay her long-imagined mission of vengeance so that she could train?
As he opened his mouth to find a way to explain, when Olivia spoke first. “Clay, I’m not going to be able to come with you tomorrow.”
Clay blinked. He felt a burst of befuddled gratitude. “Really?”
She nodded, her expression serious. “Yeah.” Olivia shook her head. “I still need to work on my [Might] and [Fortitude]. As it is right now, I don’t think I’m ready to face the monsters yet.”
“I… understand.” Clay wasn’t about to complain about the fact that she’d figured things out for herself. “Are you going to ask the Baroness to help you? She’d probably be able to give you a few pointers, at least.”
Olivia smiled. “I think I would enjoy that. She’d at least be able to tell me how to use my scythe.”
He nodded. “True.” Clay tilted his head to the side and nudged her. “So, does this mean you’re giving up on the [Chants] for now? Maybe until you’re at a higher level?”
She gave him a look that suggested he might have lost his mind. “Don’t be ridiculous. That particular job is already done.”
He watched as she paused, and then slowly, carefully recited the words that he’d already long since burned into his own mind. A moment later, the [Chant] for Heart’s Light activated, and a light glowed in her palm. Olivia smiled down at it before it sputtered and went out. “Now I just need to increase the rest of my [Stats], and gain a few levels. Then some real magic will be mine.”
Clay smiled. “I’m sure the monsters are already shaking.” She nudged him, her face red, and he laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, before I leave. Until then, we should get some rest.”
Olivia nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow, Clay.”
She smiled and walked away, heading back towards the tower. Clay watched her for a moment, and then turned back to his bedroll. He needed his rest. Tomorrow the monsters were waiting.