Abby, Pudge, and Zeke trudged downhill, covering the final stretch to Bastion. As they grew closer, Zeke found himself increasingly impressed by the size as well as the construction. Not only were the walls nearly twenty feet high, but when he focused, he could see the faintest hint of glowing runes beneath the grey stone.

“Are those walls enchanted?” he asked when they were still a half-mile away.

Abby shrugged. “No idea, but probably,” she said. “I’ve heard it’s one of the oldest waystations along the road, so it’s not out of the question.”

Zeke frowned, studying walls as they drew ever closer. He was aware that Abby couldn’t see the runes like he could. Whether it was an effect of his artisan’s path or just a different kind of focus, he had no idea, but based on how Abby talked, he suspected that the ability wasn’t a common one. Most of the time, the runes were invisible, but it only took a mental shift of his perception before the complicated combinations of glyphs and symbols became apparent.

“Wonder what they do,” he muttered to himself.

Abby’s keen ears heard his mumbles, and she responded, “Probably enchanted for durability. Maybe some sort of counterattack. There’s really no telling. I doubt the Watcher even knows.”

“Watcher?” Zeke asked.

“It’s a title for the leaders of waystations and outposts,” she answered. “A woman named Aria has been the Watcher in charge of Bastion for a couple of decades now. Level twenty-four, from what I hear.”

“What kind of skills does she have?”

“Why do you ask? You’re not going to pick a fight, are you?” Abby asked, glancing toward him with a raised eyebrow.

“Just curious.”

“So long as it’s just curiosity,” she said, shaking her head. She mumbled something about bulls and china shops before answering the question. “Fire-based stuff, as far as I know. I’ve never even seen her, so I can’t be sure, but I heard that she can throw fireballs or something. But it doesn’t matter because we’re just passing through, right?”

“Right,” Zeke said. “I’ll behave.”

Abby snorted a laugh, then immediately covered her face in embarrassment. “Let’s just pretend that didn’t just happen,” she said.

“What? Your snort-laugh? I didn’t hear a thing,” he said with a grin. “And for your information, I’m perfectly capable of flying under the radar.”

“Not from what I’ve seen, but I’m prepared to be surprised,” she said.

Zeke was about to respond, but he stopped himself as he considered how Abby must see him. Since they’d been together, he’d made a habit of charging into battle without a care for how it might turn out. So, it wasn’t all that surprising that she would consider him a little reckless. Certainly, he wasn’t subtle.

“Fair enough,” he said.

Pudge gave a loud snort, almost as if to say that he would keep Zeke in line. Or at least that’s the impression he got from the cub’s emotions. Zeke could only shake his head and wonder how Pudge had become his babysitter.

As the trio made their way to the gate, Zeke couldn’t help but marvel at the construction. Growing up in the states, he’d never really been exposed to castles. He had seen them in movies and on the internet, but the closest he’d come to seeing an actual castle was in grade school when he’d gone on a field trip to a local pre-civil war fort. That experience hadn’t come close to preparing him for Bastion.

Up close, the walls were even bigger than he first thought, measuring in at over twenty-feet tall and half-again as wide. When he shifted his focus, he could see the distinct glow of interlocking glyphs suffusing every single brick. In turn, those collections of symbols combined to create a much larger whole that wove through the entire wall. Without the runes, it was an impressive fortification, but with them, it was downright intimidating.

The gate wasn’t any less extraordinary, either. Comprised of giant, iron-grey slabs of lumber, it was bound with bands of some silvery metal that was densely packed with even more runes. They were open, with an iron portcullis withdrawn, but Zeke could tell that the gates could be closed in seconds, if necessary.

There was a short line of wagons waiting to get into the waystation, and the gate was manned by a pair of warriors in matching tabards emblazoned with a red flame over their chainmail armor. Zeke didn’t need to inspect them to know that they were no higher than fifteen. They looked impressive, but they didn’t hold that much real power. The people waiting in line were even weaker, coming in at below level ten.

While they were still out of earshot, Zeke said, “They’re all so weak.”

Abby responded, “Most people never get past fifteen, even if they’re adventurers. These people just want to live their lives. Some are traders. Some are travelers. Craftsman. Not everybody wants to risk their lives to get stronger.”

Zeke was about to respond, but then he stopped himself. It wasn’t so different from back on Earth. Most people were content to do the bare minimum. Sure, when given a task, most people would perform to the best of their ability, so long as it wasn’t overly taxing. However, very few would willingly push themselves to improve. Zeke had seen it in baseball and in school, and he suspected that people, as a whole, never really changed, regardless of getting older. So, it stood to reason that being reborn wouldn’t alter anything either. Not for the majority of people, at least.

They quickly found a place in the line behind a wagon loaded with sacks of grain. Some of the traders glanced at Pudge with some trepidation, but when he didn’t act aggressively, they relaxed. Of course, he was still the equivalent of a toddler, and he wasn’t much bigger than a dog, so they probably thought he wasn’t much of a threat. If they’d seen him against the drachnids, tearing into them like a particularly angry and vicious badger, they might’ve reacted differently.

What would people think as he got older? Pudge’s mother had been close to the size of a rhino, and she’d probably still had plenty of room to grow. Would Pudge get even bigger as he gained levels?

Because the guards had to inspect the incoming wagons, the line progressed slowly, and it was nearly midday by the time Zeke, Abby, and Pudge reached the gate. When they finally did, one of the guards looked them over with obvious pity. “Rough go of it?” she asked, taking in the state of Zeke’s gear. He was decent, at least, but the leather armor bore dozens of rips, tears, and jagged grooves. By contrast, Abby’s armor was a little better off, owing to the fact that she hadn’t been in the thick of the drachnid horde, but it was far from pristine.

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“Something like that,” Abby said, taking the lead. “Any issues in the area?”

“We had a few bog stalkers attacking people near the swamp,” the female guard said. “But we hired a couple of adventurers from the Gilded Rose to take care of it. You guilded?”

“Champions of Light,” Abby said, pulling a pendant out of her pocket. She jerked her thumb at Zeke, adding, “He’s a recruit.”

The other guard shook his head, saying, “Oh. Sucks to be you. I heard the Champions of Light have some horrible initiation requirements.”

Abby laughed. “You can say that again,” she said.

The female guard glanced behind Zeke and Abby to see that the line hadn’t gotten any shorter. She nodded at Zeke, saying, “Two silver for him.”

Abby pulled a couple of coins from her pocket and handed it over. The guards waved them through, and as they passed, Zeke heard the man mutter, “Good luck.”

“What was that all about?” Zeke asked when they got out of earshot.

“Which part? The initiation? The bog stalkers? Or the entry fee?” she asked.

“Uh…all three?” he said, mentally pulling Pudge along. The bear had begun to lag behind, sidetracked by a host of new and interesting smells. Zeke wasn’t much different, save that instead of smells, he was distracted by the sights. The town looked like a prototypical medieval town, with stone buildings, cobbled streets, and a citizenry armed with a host of melee weapons. In the distance, Zeke could hear the ring of a blacksmith’s hammer cutting through the din of the crowd of pedestrians. After spending so long in the wilderness, it was a little overwhelming.

“Well, the bog stalkers are these natural spirits made of moss, mud, and rotting wood,” she said. “Ambush predators. They usually stick to swamps and marshes where they can blend in. Nasty things. Really hard to kill unless you hit them just right and damage their cores. Fire works, too. The road runs close enough to Trollmoor Swamp that they sometimes attack travelers.”

Zeke’s heart went cold. “I spent a few days in that swamp,” he said.

“Lucky you didn’t run across one, then,” Abby said. “No offense, but you’re not really suited for fighting something like that. Of course, you could probably run away. Or knowing you, you’d just muscle through it. Probably by jumping at it.”

“I don’t always jump!”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked. “Because every time I’ve fought with you, you’ve gone leaping through the air like some kind of kangaroo.”

He rolled his eyes at her teasing. “Fine,” he said. “Whatever. What about this initiation?”

“Think of it like a tryout,” Abby said, leading him through the town. Zeke didn’t really know where they were going, but Abby had obviously been in Bastion before, so he’d decided to follow her lead. “Sometimes, it’s a tournament. Other times, they give you a mission. Maybe one of the guild’s higher ups will just interview you. It’s always different, but you can’t join the guild unless you pass.”

“And the entry fee?”

“Pretty self-explanatory,” she said. “The waystation wouldn’t be able to sustain itself without charging for entry. But my guild’s got a deal with all the waystations, so we don’t have to pay.”

“Handy,” he said.

“It has its perks,” Abby said, finally stopping in front of a large, three-story structure. “Finally! Civilization!”

Zeke read the sign, which declared the building to be an inn called The Brick Pit. Abby grabbed his wrist and pulled him along, saying, “This place has the best ribs I’ve had since I was reborn! No more snake for us!”

Zeke allowed himself to be dragged along, and the moment he was inside, he was assaulted by the familiar smell of barbecue. Immediately, his mouth started to water at the welcome fragrance of smoked meat. The place was packed with diners who sat at simple, wooden tables, each seeming to enjoy their carnivorous pursuits.

“Abby!” exclaimed a short, stout woman as she stepped around a counter. Wearing a stained, white apron, she was almost as wide as she was tall, with muscular arms and heavy shoulders. This was a woman who, though she obviously enjoyed a good meal, was no stranger to hard, manual labor. “What’d you do to yourself?”

“Ran into a horde of drachnids,” Abby said, almost as if she was apologizing. She shrugged. “Kind of went off the rails.”

“Looks like it,” the woman said, shaking her head. “Where’s that big, Russian idiot who follows you around? I’ve been working on a new sauce that I think he’ll love.”

“Oh…uh…Vlad…he didn’t…he didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Mags.”

The woman’s face went white. Then, after a few seconds, she said, “How?”

“Probably best to have that conversation in private,” Abby said, her expression darkening. Then, she gestured to Zeke, saying, “This is Zeke. He sort of saved me. And Pudge.”

The woman looked Zeke over, and he felt like he was being picked part, strand by strand, until everything that made him who he was had been laid entirely bare. After a few seconds, Mags’ focus shifted to the bear cub, who practically wilted under her attention. It took Zeke a few seconds to realize that what he’d felt was the stout woman’s much higher level. When he inspected her, he saw that she’d reached level twenty-two.

“They’re good people, Mags,” Abby said.

It was another few awkward seconds before the woman nodded, saying, “If you say so. Any friend of Abby’s is a friend of mine. Come on.”

Mags gestured for the trio to follow, and Zeke quickly found himself going through a massive kitchen and into an office. Once they were inside, Mags closed the door and planted herself on top of her desk. Then, Abby told the whole story. She didn’t spare many details, but Zeke was thankful that she at least managed to keep his secrets.

“I never liked Julio,” Mags said. “Knew there was something wrong with that boy. I wish I’d done something about it when I had the chance.”

Abby agreed, “Me too.”

“What will you do?” Mags asked.

Abby shrugged, saying, “I’m not sure. The guild won’t do anything without proof. And besides, Julio’s dead now. Not sure what else they’d do even if I could prove that he attacked me and killed Vlad.”

Mags shook her head. “This is why I left,” she said. “Too much corruption. They were letting people run wild. So long as they were a means to an end, none of the others cared. It used to be so different.”

Going by context clues, Mags had once been in Abby’s guild. And judging by her obvious strength, she’d probably been in the upper echelon of its members. Maybe one of the leaders. But as much as Zeke wanted to know more, he wasn’t so socially inept that he would ask those kinds of questions when the woman had just been told about her friends’ death.

“Can we stay here for a couple of days?” Abby said. “We need to sell some stuff off, then we’re going to Beacon.”

“Of course,” Mags said, reaching back to open one of the desk’s drawers behind her. She retrieved a pair of keys, saying, “Top floor. The rooms are small, but that’s all I’ve got free right now.”

Abby took the keys, then handed one to Zeke. He took it, telling Mags, “Thank you.”

“No,” the stout woman said. “Thank you. This girl means a lot to me, and it sounds like she wouldn’t be alive without you. So, you’ve got my thanks. I only wish Vlad could’ve been so lucky.”

Zeke had no idea how to respond, especially when he noticed a tear rolling down Mags’ plump cheek. Thankfully, the awkwardness was cut short when Abby said something about getting out of Mags’ hair and yanked him out of the office. Soon, they’d made their way back through the kitchen and up the stairs to the third floor, where they quickly found their rooms.

“It just occurred to me that you don’t need to drop anything off,” Abby said, shaking her head. She opened her door. “That…that storage is really going to take some getting used to. Come in. We need to figure out how to deal with all our loot. It’ll be easier to unload some of it here so we don’t draw so much attention in Beacon. Plus, you need money so you can get some new clothes.”

“Can’t really argue with that,” Zeke said, looking over the room. It was a simple place, its only furniture a small bed, a nightstand, and a rustic-looking wardrobe. Abby ignored it all, tossing her pack in the corner.

“Alright – let’s do a quick inventory, then we can see where to go from there,” she said as Zeke shut the door behind her.

And so, Zeke began removing things from his spatial storage.