The door swung open before I had the chance to knock. I felt foolish for expecting Major Isolde to miss a throng of chattering children watching me approach the house from the street. She must have a high perception too.

"Who are– George!"

She went from pissed off to happy in the snap of a finger. Isolde hugged me and I felt my bones creak under her Herculean strength.

"My dear, where is your..."

Her eyes drifted to the shaft of Scout's Oath stuck inside my back quiver. The rune-carved bow staff was impossible to miss if you knew what it was. She then scanned my face and clenched her teeth. The bicentennial soldier's back straightened and her face became solemn. She saluted Scout's Oath (not me) and drew in a sharp breath. Her shoulders relaxed a bit as her expression softened. Isolde cupped my cheek with a callused hand.

"Look at you, all grown up. I blinked my eyes and missed so much," she crooned softly. "Come inside. Let's get the road dust off of you."

The children cheered. I heard a whisper "he survived" but didn't turn around to see who said it. Isolde ushered me inside her home.

"Sit, relax, kick off your boots if you feel like it. Let me put some water to boil, then we talk." I sat on the couch and waited as she vanished behind a wall. Minutes later, Isolde returned and sat next to me. "Tell me everything."

I did. Isolde was harsh and strict, but she wasn't prone to bouts of anger. When I told her what Clotilde said, though, Isolde's eyes narrowed.

"Those fools!" She grumbled. Next, she stared at me. "There are old monsters in this world that are not our business to fight against. Just like you can only mitigate the effects of a storm, unless you are one of these old monsters yourself, stay out of their path."

"I do not entertain thoughts of vengeance against Liliane Fade, Isolde," I replied to hedge her next point.

"Good. For your sake, I hope you are being honest. Liliane Fade is the Time Witch. Some say she can see the past, the future, and even turn back time. Ha!" She scoffed. "As if turning back time was possible. Even the Gods would find that hard if they can turn back time at all."

I was sad about my father's passing and I didn't believe I would ever be totally fine with that. But thinking about exacting revenge out of Liliane Fade's cold body? Only if I was two or three times stronger than my father. That wouldn't happen so soon. Who knew the state of things whenever I reached that august level? Perhaps Liliane Fade would've gained another hundred levels. Maybe by the time I would be strong enough to face her, the Witch would have already died of some unknown circumstances.

"I am, aunt," I said with both hands up, a sign of trustworthiness. "I was shocked when I learned they were sent to kill a pregnant woman."

"Nonsense. You wouldn't spare a Goblin Matriarch just because she was pregnant. Spoiler, they always are. Whether Liliane Fade was pregnant or not is irrelevant. The real issue was that the Guild threw their elite to die. One wonders if that wasn't the main purpose from the beginning."

My hand flew to grasp the Guild badge. Isolde's accusation sounded so absurd... but the only guild leader I knew was Alice. She didn't sit at the Guild council, which issued the order to go after the Fade Witch.

"But it is interesting to know that Liliane was pregnant. She's older than me, fancy that!" Isolde hacked and almost spat on the carpet. The kettle whistled. "Guess I should finish serving tea. Do you still like Saint Domingo's?"

It was my favorite pastry when I was a child. My mouth watered at the fond memory. "Yes, please."

*

*

The crunchy pastry filled with molten Guava candy almost burned my lips when I bit into it but I was in heaven. All thoughts of tragedy, conspiracy, and grief vanished as I closed my eyes to savor the bulging round pastries. We ate and drank tea in silence for almost a quarter of an hour. Time in Whitemeadow moved slower.

"You took your old man's job, eh?" Isolde broke the silence.

"Yes. It was something I had to do. Someone must scout for threats around the city."

"Both the Guard and the Military have scouts too," she scoffed. "But it can't be helped. That elf harlot has her fangs in you, don't she?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about. I have no romantic intentions toward Alice."

"Alice, not Guild Master. I see..." Isolde drawled. "Suit yourself, then. Just don't get yourself killed, do you hear me, boy?"

"Loud and Clear, sir!" I shouted like an army recruit.

"Don't make the same mistakes as your father did."

"I will try."

"He never visited Whitemeadow when he scouted for the Guild. The bastard said the area is safe enough and doesn't need him."

I saw a hint of sadness in her eyes. "I intend to make Whitemeadow the first and the last stop in my route."

"Good. You do that, and you won't need to sleep in no stinky inn."

Whitemeadow didn't have an inn. It wasn't a place that welcomed travelers and merchants. Nor was it in any trade route to another place. The path I took ended in Whitemeadow and no other left the small village. The retirees appreciated the calm and peace that came with isolation.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"You'll spend the night here, right?" She demanded. It was obviously not a request or an offer. "I'll bake more Saint Domingo's."

I took the bribe with a grin, "Yes, aunt. With one condition. Help me with my exercises."

"I'll make a man out of you," she sang.

*

*

The next morning, I woke up, checked my gear, stretched my body, and went downstairs to the lovely smell of freshly baked sweets. Tray after tray of cooling pastries took every surface in the kitchen and living room.

"I think I overdid it," Isolde said and cackled like an... old woman.

"Are you starting a new Sub-Class?" I asked with amusement.

"Maybe... maybe I poisoned the cookies," she replied while giving me a fake stink eye.

I grabbed a cookie straight from the tray and shoved it in my mouth, trying not to wince from the heat. Vanilla, chocolate, and cinnamon exploded as the cookie melted and seared my tongue.

"Yeah, definitely poisoned," I said while chewing and hissing to cool my tongue.

She grunted and cackled. "I can be a Witch too."

"Don't joke," I deadpanned.

She grumbled a bit more. "Spoilsport. They will be good for three or four days; or weeks even if you keep them sealed in a jar. Take as many as you want." She produced two leather-covered steel jars with rubber seals. "If I were you, I would take all I want before the kids smell baked goods. They can be quite insistent."

"I don't mind sharing," I said.

"You should. Your stupid scouting plan will have you out of town for a year. A year. You will soon find yourself craving the comforts of civilization."

I laughed, took the two jars, and started to take my fill of the pastries, starting with the Saint Domingo's. I attached them to the outside of my pack and made sure they wouldn't make much noise. The leather covers prevented that.

*

*

Three hours after sunrise, I was out of the village and back in the wilderness. Once I stepped into true wild land, my Perk made every breath worth one and a half. Not gonna lie, though it was little, it was energizing. I was grinning when I found the first threat.

A burrow of Earth Moles. They usually made their dens near farms and could eat a hectare of ripe crops in just a few days. Less if the burrow was really big. I checked it seemed to be recent. Since it wasn't the harvest season, I just marked the spot and landmarks to guide Adventurers to exterminate them and moved on.

I entered a forested area and went in a zigzag pattern, trying to find signs of monster passage. The birds were singing and I spotted some deer a couple times. It didn't seem to contain monsters as the normal wildlife was the first to suffer whenever a monster moved in. It was five hours past noon when I finally finished that sector and alighted on the road to the next village. The forest contained a few herb patches that might be of interest to novice Adventurers if it wasn't that far from the city. They would be hard-pressed to make this a day trip. I harvested the herbs to trade in the next village or just donate to the local herbalist or apothecary.

The difference between this village, Forest's Gate, to Whitemeadow was stark. Instead of the stonework houses, they were made out of old wattle-and-daub, with questionable roofing. The children ran barefoot on the mud roads, their clothes shades of brown. Instead of coming to confront or greet me, they ran away, screaming.

I stopped outside the village fence. Yes, fence. Not a wall or anything. I was pretty sure I could jump over the village's protective palisade with barely any running start. Yet, I waited outside until an adult was bothered long enough by the children to come and check on the stranger.

A man with a whitening beard and barely any hair on his head came with a rusty broad sword in his hand. I waved and pointed at my badge. His eyes bulged and he dropped his sword, seemingly embarrassed.

"Milord, I'm sorry!" He interjected as he approached.

"Nothing to be sorry about!" I shouted back. "Well met, I'm George, with the Adventurer's Guild."

"I'm Baradon, Sir George. Well met. What brings you to these parts?"

He stared at me, studying me from top to bottom. His gaze lingered on my face, probably judging me too young. But looks could be deceptive, with cosmetic magic, shapeshifting, and some Classes reaching immortality or slowing down aging so much I could be anywhere from my actual age to several centuries old.

Then he looked at Scout's Oath. The bow was obviously masterwork and had runes carved everywhere on its shaft.

"I'm surveying the land for the Guild. Identifying threats, monster dens, and other locations of interest for the Guild. Have you heard or seen anything worth of notice?"

"Hard to say, milord. But some guards at the tavern spoke rumors of bandit activity further down the road. They noticed people furtively eyeing their wagons from the tree line."

"Any attacks?"

"No, milord. But bandits are a cautious bunch. A bunch of cowards, I say! They won't risk their lives for a cart with grain, no. They will go for valuables, jewels, money, books, or fine wine."

Baradon licked his lips at the mention of wine. Though his breath was clean.

"Good. I have some herbs to trade at the apothecary or herbalist if you have one. I also need lodgings for the night."

"We have Doctor Gregory, he is the local healer. A cantankerous cripple, if I must say. Got an arrow to the knee, and now limps around with a cane. But he keeps the village folk healthy, I have to say."

"Good. Then take me to him. What about lodging?"

"The elder has a spare room for dignitaries like yourself, milord. Let me guide you."

I followed Baradon, traded my herbs for some health tonics and antidotes for the common poisons in the region, and then met the mayor. Since I got here earlier, I used the rest of the afternoon and part of the evening to exercise.

*

*

The next morning, I ate some Saint Domingo's and cookies with fresh milk from a nearby farm. I said my goodbyes to the village chief and went back to the road. The area was heavily forested on both sides but the road could fit a wide wagon and still leave room for foot traffic of bicycles on either side.

I wanted to one day buy a Gnome-craft foldable bicycle. It would weigh me down but since I was putting nine points in Strength at each level, I would soon find that the issue with heavy loads was to find a pack that could bear such loads rather than the weight slowing me down. These bicycles were expensive, though. Perhaps when I had the money to afford one, I would also have a spatial bag or ring.

Two hours in, I caught the scent of viscera ahead. Carefully, I cleared a bend in the road and found a shocking sight. A wagon lay battered and broken amidst a huge puddle of blood.

I went into the treeline and scanned the site and the trees on either side. No movement, no hidden threats that I could see. I carefully approached the attack site.

Three men and two horses were dead, peppered with broken arrows. The fletching was awful, making me disbelieve that the bandits could've scored this many hits. But no. The ground was littered with stone-headed arrows of flimsy make. From the position on the ground, the bandits shot from both sides and then the foot troops closed in and attacked.

They wrecked the wagon for seemingly no reason. The wheel spokes were cut by the ax, the axles were split, and the frame was battered and cracked. A total disaster, the wagon was now marginally better than firewood. The driver's bench had been ripped off, revealing a compartment underneath. Empty.

Of the cargo, I saw nothing. Not a single crate, barrel, lock box, or sack was left behind. Whatever this merchant carried, it must be very, very valuable.

The only hint of the merchandise was a fine piece of lacy satin that got stuck on a nail next to a broken crate. The merchant was probably transporting fine textiles, of the kind noble ladies fawned about in their haute couture salons.

I felt both afraid and excited. I found a trail leading deep into the thick forest, and several boot prints. I had to go and find out about this bandit den. Perhaps they were worth even using one of Alice's special arrows.