“Ow ow! What the hell are you doing?” Zen yelled, as Devan began dragging him deeper into the walls of the fort by his ear.

“Because what you did was straight up lunacy and completely idiotic. And the fact that you did not tell us about you fighting the acid crosserfang? If you were a guard, you would’ve been immediately punished.” Devan said through gritted teeth.

Devan pushed Zen onto a nearby wooden bench next to the fort center, its smooth stone paving and the small fountain spraying in a calm pattern. It would’ve been more relaxing if an angry adventurer wasn’t in the way.

“Don’t you know how much danger you put everyone in there?” Devan seethed, pointing at Zen accusingly. “People would’ve gotten burned. People would’ve died, and it would’ve been all your fault.”

“Still…” Devan said, crossing his arms, and his voice getting a little quieter. “Your performance was actually pretty good. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“I… don’t know…” Zen wondered out loud. “I mean, I just got here. I should have no formal combat training. So I have no idea how I just did all that. I guess I just did it in the heat of the moment.” Zen stared at his hands, which were not shaking anymore. The adrenaline had worn off, and Zen could feel a wave of tiredness wash over him.

“Woah there!” Devan said, catching Zen before he could crumple to the floor. “The adrenaline in your system must be wearing off, so you should be careful. You should take a long rest, but make sure to wake up before the party? There is always one after a major victory especially for a battle like this one. And I bet a lot of people will have a lot of questions to ask you.”

Zen could only grumble a response, and Devan gave a slight chuckle, as he pushed Zen back into the bench, where he lay there. It was nice having a rest in a while, seeing the beautiful blue sky, the white gray clouds forming on the horizon… It was all so peaceful… so peaceful….

----------------------------------------

The sudden wetness of a water droplet woke Zen up almost immediately. He sat up from the bench, where the previous stellar atmosphere had devolved into a gloomy and windy evening, with thick gray storm clouds looming overhead. The bench was no longer warm, so covering his head to avoid the rain by just a smidge, Zen made his way into the dilapidated stone fortress in the center of the main fort.

The moment he entered the front door, a cheer erupted from out of nowhere, as people wearing small cone hats burst from behind walls, throwing long strands of multicolored parchment everywhere. It was… nice to say the least.

“Look who arrived to celebrate with us!” said a very familiar mustached guard. It was the same foot soldier he had pushed away to fight the acid-fang. A great smile beamed from his face, practically blinding Zen with his admiration. “Welcome, hero of the hour! Don’t just stand there, come in and have some beer!”

Zen was quickly guided to a table where a few shots of frothy beer sat. He picked one up and held it high.

“To our great victory, and uh… all of our efforts, we managed to push back the crosserfangs. Cheers I guess.” Zen stuttered throughout his speech.

A great cheer erupted from the group of soldiers, archers, and guards, and they all drank, Zen included. The beer froth was thick and the liquid light, and the bitterness blended well with the burn of the alcohol. His face felt warm and fuzzy.

A small soldier with golden blonde locks burst from the back of the group and waved his arm at him, practically begging for his attention. “Mr. Adventurer! I saw how you killed that crosserfang with such skill, sliding underneath it and all. How did you do it? Are you one of those strong men Moros that I’ve heard so much about? That’s so cool!”

The guard looked pretty young, with a great gleam in his sky blue eyes. Zen didn’t really know what to say. All he knew is that in the heat of the moment, he managed to take down several crosserfangs before taking down the big boss, and that was somehow worth commemorating himself as the ‘hero’. It was quite weird, having the spotlight suddenly on him when he was just an arriving vagabond just a few moments ago.

“Well… I…” Zen stammered out a response. “I’m not sure if I’m just a strong man but–”

“A strong man?” an older guard with a grayish stubble piped in. “I heard a single strong man could take down an entire heatran army! There’s a whole play and multiple stories of one doing just that. Those who honestly try to help protect us are my heroes.” The man drank another shot of beer.

“Ooh! Mr. Adventurer!” a brown-haired bowl cut archer yelled, waving his arm up. “I was standing on the parapets and I saw your fight with the acid crosserfang with my telescope, and your fight was amazing! Those acid spiders are extremely difficult to manage, so you doing buckets on that big guy was doing loads of inspiration to the rest of us! How did you even do it?”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Uh… I… aimed for the sacs?” Zen said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Great! I’ll keep that in mind!” the bowl cut archer said, quickly taking out a quill pen and scribbling in a notebook.

“Please don’t,” Zen said, but the boy was already too deep into thought.

A hand rested on Zen’s shoulder, and he wheeled around to see the mustached guard smiling at Zen. “You, my friend, have done us a great help. Saving comrades, killing many spiders with ease, and somehow destroying an acid crosserfang without fear at all, it was as if you were a character in a grand epic! I am truly glad you’re here to help. It was too bad Devan couldn’t help out, he was busy helping the archers mount the ballista to kill the acid crosserfang. Unfortunately for him, the acid-fang would never come as you killed it. Great stuff!”

Zen looked behind him, at the group of soldiers and guards in multiple strings of conversations and drinking without remorse in contagious happiness. “I don’t mean to be suspicious, but, who created the party? Why all for me? I’m just a new guy.”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” the mustached guard said with a grin. “It was Devan! He managed to find several sealed crates of beer and extra rations under some rubble from a previous attack, we just never managed to find it until he did, and he proposed to have a grand celebration to honor you! He was actually quite impressed with your performance, and all of us agreed. So I hope you’re happy.”

“Happy?” Zen said, perplexed. “I’m more than happy. Glad even. But Devan proposing the party? That seems a bit peculiar. Just a few moments after the battle, he was mad at me for causing the acid explosion.”

The mustached man laughed, scratching his brown stubbled and poured himself another shot of beer from a bottle. “Oh Devan, always the serious captain and the policy commander. He’s very strict, and gets cranky sometimes when protocol isn’t followed, like not telling your superior if you’re going to do anything remotely reckless or stupid. But once he sees the bigger picture, he mellows out.”

“Like, could you imagine what would’ve happened if the acid crosserfang had been about twenty meters away from the wall instead of one hundred? That acid explosion would’ve eaten at the walls and melted any man in the way, probably killing a lot of people. Even Devan knew that as he was setting up the ballista, but it was better than having the whole base turn to sludge. But thanks to your actions, we avoided that, and not a single man died from any acid.” The fine mustachio man drank his shot of beer.

“Well, there were still casualties.” The man said glumly.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Zen said, nodding. “But it was probably the corpse of a fellow soldier that saved me. If I hadn’t had that short bow and iklwa spear from that fallen soldier, I would’ve been screwed. We all would’ve been.”

The mustached man froze, his expression quickly turning pale. “Let’s go over to the corner. This is bad.”

Zen and the mustached guard silently moved to the corner of the mess hall, where they wouldn’t be heard. They sat down on some soft bean bags as the fire in the brick fireplace crackled modestly.

“My name is Kent,” the mustached man said with a solemn expression. “So. Are you sure that man wielded an iklwa spear and a short bow? What other garments did he wear?”

“Yeah, he wielded those items. If I hadn’t had those weapons I would have never killed that acid crosserfang in the first place. And I believe he wore a red headband and wore a sleek black underclothing. Why do you ask?” Zen asked inquisitively.

“Oh no. Oh no. This is horrible. This is so bad! Why did he have to go so far from the main walls without help? He was alone! Why’d he have to be so confident! Ughhh! How am I going to tell him?” Kent groaned, pulling his face down in utter dread.

“Why is this guy so important? I mean, he was important, everyone is. And his weapons saved all of our lives.”

“Alright I’ll tell you.” Kent wiped his brow and slid his hand through his scrappy brown hair. “The guy you took the weapons from was a guy named Jacky. Very charismatic, very confident. He was an obvious go-getter. Wanted to save everyone. Like a real hero. But, I guess he bit off more than he could chew. And his death has major repercussions.”

“How so?” Zen asked.

“You see, Jacky has a brother. In Tampatown of all places. His brother, Chan, cares for his brother dearly, and they would often send each other a letter asking how things are doing every week. And not only that, Chan is a prosperous royal knight of the empire currently on leave living in Tampatown. And ever since Jacky began working at Fort Schisms, Chan has been a major supplier and investor to aid our cause. Chan won’t take his brother’s death lightly.”

Zen blew a whistle through his teeth and pinched the roof of his nose. “So let me guess. Because of Jacky’s death, his brother Chan may be extremely distraught and may possibly pin the blame on us. And since Chan is a major supplier and investor, we may lose even more shipments that we are already missing out on. Is that correct?”

Kent nodded. “Yes, you are exactly right.”

“And how many shipments of new supplies do we need?”

“About a month or two of new supplies.” Kent said.

“And how much would we lose if Chan pulls out?”

“Nearly a third of our future shipments.” Kent whispered.

“And when will be the usual date Chan gets a letter from his brother?” Zen asked slightly more softly.

“In three and a half days.” Kent muttered, his head drooping.

“Shit. Not only is there a backlog of shipments that we desperately need, we also have a time crunch that we somehow need to solve!” Zen muttered in sadness. “We must find a way to revive the supply chain, bring about two months of backlogged shipments, and hope that Chan can understand the situation after his brother’s death.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Kent sighed glumly. “Only issue that is very close to impossible.”

“Well there must be a way,” Zen said. “If we don’t do anything, in three or four days, we’ll be screwed! No new supplies, no nothing! And we may even be blamed for incompetence or something!”

“That is very true. But still. The diplomatic task needed to overcome the issue is downright insane. The logistics of the supply chain is probably wrecked.”

“But there must be a way!” Zen said, standing up and placing a foot on the bean bag. “If there’s a will, there’s a way!”

“And there is a way,” a voice said behind him.

Zen swiftly turned his head to see Devan looking at him, leaning on the north door frame of the mess hall. Kent looked up too, a tiny glint of hope in his eyes.

“Don’t worry Kent,” Devan said, a cold stare in his eyes. “I heard everything. I’ll need to borrow Zen for a moment. I hope you don’t mind.”

Kent nodded and waved Zen away. Before Zen left the mess hall, Kent called to him.

“Hey, if you… if you two manage to solve this… Make sure Chan doesn’t hurt himself? His agony over his brother could break him. He loves his brother very much. Maybe if you could bring a last memento?” Kent said expectantly.

“Yeah, I still have his short bow.” Zen said, taking it off of his back and holding it up.

“Good. That’ll do.” Kent said, smiling. “Now go. Do the impossible task no one else can do.”