Alderman Daurn flashes a wide, toothy grin, "Lets put the serious talk behind us for now though. Today should be a joyous occasion worthy of raucous celebration! Today should not be solely devoted to such dour circumspection."

"Whaddaya mean?" I ask, eyebrow raised. Kind of suspecting where this is going but seeking confirmation anyway.

Also, 'circumspection'? I didn't expect a word that obscure to come from this bear-man's mouth. I can barely remember what it means through the memory filter. Something about hesitation, I think. It's fuzzy.

"Lad, it's been years since you were back home, and not only that, but you come back with the most impressive hunting trophy I've seen since I retired from the Company! What better excuse for a pitcher of The Woodsman's dark ale?" Daurn laughs.

Oh. I'd forgotten how much of a drunkard the Alderman was. Probably owing to his robust physique and large build, he can quite merrily down an entire keg of beer like he's drinking a glass of lemonade, a habit which ultimately accounts for a majority of the bar's business when traders and travellers are sparse.

He has a preference for a specific type of ale he makes the poor family brew especially for him using a 'secret' mixture of burnt hops and barley that turn the resulting ale a dark hue, and frankly, it tastes like a cross between carbonised sugar and dirt. Nobody in their right mind goes for another glug of the stuff but him.

I decline firmly, "I'll pass on the ale. Me Mam's already at her wit's end without me coming home sloshed."

I really could do without being on the receiving end of yet another lecture about my behaviour. I've had enough for one day, thank you very much.

Daurn tuts, "Don't be a wet blanket, lad. You gotta at least say hello to them before you leave. Brag a little! It'll make you feel better, trust me."

My face remains impassive.

"And it'll make Lizzle's day," he adds with a sly wink.

Confronted with the jolly man's beaming face and the weight of his almost fatherly demeanour, I feel my resistance to his suggestion withering away, "Alright, fine. But I'll not linger, or I won't hear the end of it."

"Excellent. First round is on me, lad!"

Still not going to drink any of that swill, even if it's free.

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The Woodsman is bubbling with idle chatter amongst the gathered patrons, most of whom I vaguely recognise through the flickering amber glow from the fireplace. I see the Miller and his son Lonn, sat over at the bar, the carpenter is playing a round of Martyr's Dice with the Innkeeper's wife, the tanner and a few farmers I don't know that well.

Thanks to the acres and acres of Klennock trees, the nearby fields aren't very fertile, so we rely on traders for a lot of our grains. Which means by extension, that the farmhands have a lot of free time because of how little land they have to look after. Unless their habits have changed, they usually turn up sometime before sundown and don't leave until the Innkeep kicks them out.

It takes a moment, but everyone in the room, including Lizzle behind the bar counter, turns to look at us.

"Evening, all! Good to see you all hale and hearty through another day. Lizzle, girl, help an old man out and get me a mug of the usual, would you? And a round of whatever the boy here wants on me, as well."

The Alderman takes it in stride, calling out an ostentatious greeting as he approaches the bar, turning this way and that to regard the patrons, who whisper amongst themselves, casting glances my direction. Before I can reintroduce myself, however, Lonn greets me first, still a little nervous, perhaps, but the alcohol seems to have calmed his nerves.

"G-good evening, Nealan! All's well I hope?"

Following this, the whispers elevate to muttering.

"That's young Nelly? A lot taller than I remember."

"Oh, that's why he seemed so familiar..."

And so on. I raise my arm for a limp wave, wincing a little at the twinge of pain from my shoulder, "Hey everyone. Long time no see."

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I trade pleasantries as well as a few stories back and forth with the patrons, before taking a seat at the bar two stools to the left of the Alderman.

Lizzle approaches with a soft smile and slightly rosy cheeks, which I'm not sure if it's just a natural flush from the cosy warmth in the room or a blush. Evidence would suggest the latter, I'd say.

"So you came after all?" She asks, slinging the bar cloth in her hand over her shoulder. There's a subtle anticipation in her words. Definitely blushing, then. Fantastic...

I hide the source of my grimace by complaining about a related topic, "Alderman wouldn't take no for an answer."

Lizzle smirks, "Uncle Daurn has a way of dragging people along with him. For better or worse."

The man in question laughs into the bottom of his ale, "The boy needs to learn to loosen up. Always too serious by half,"

He pauses to swallow a mouthful of that shite, "Not that he doesn't have a reason to be, but he looked like his frown was going to pierce through his chin."

Lizzle giggles into her hand, "Sounds like you've not changed much since you left."

I can only grunt in response. Something about that strikes home a little too deeply for my liking. But they mean well by it, so chewing them would be proving their point about my apparent lack of maturity. Honestly, today has been a hell of a day for self-reflection, so why would I think that people would stop giving me shit over it now?

The nosy barmaid tuts, "See, there you go again. Young Master Grump, heir to the Grump family fortune."

Daurn breaks down into drunken laughter, slapping the table and drawing stares from the others. I do my best to ignore him and Lizzle does the same, regarding me with a fondness that is altogether unsettling.

"Like he said," I wave to the Alderman, "I've got good reason to be."

Curious, she leans on the counter smiling brightly in a completely obvious attempt to flirt, "What reason would that be, eh?"

I meet her clumsy questioning with stoic silence. More or less my default state of being come to think of it. I should probably work on my people skills.

Luckily, the Alderman steps in to bail me out, "Never you mind, girl. It's between me and 'im until I say otherwise."

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Lizzle shrinks back in surprise at the harsh reprimand before settling into a pout only achievable by a truly spoiled brat. She doesn't say anything out loud but her glare says, 'Don't embarrass me in front of him or else'.

Ultimately, the Alderman feels forced to concede some ground to Lizzle's provocation. With a suppressed belch he places the mug on the table and whispers low, "Walther was attacked by monsters in the woods this morning."

Her eyes widen, accompanying a sharp intake of breath, "Is he alright?"

I nod slowly, "Hurt his leg pretty bad but he got away just fine. Mam reckons he'll be walking proper by year's end."

"That's a relief. Still, the local beasts aren't normally that aggressive are they? What happened?"

Daurn taps the side of his nose, "That's all you're getting out of us, girl. Even that much'll be all over the village before sunrise tomorrow now. Get me another mug, I'm empty."

Lizzle snorts, "Get it yourself, you stingy old ogre. You know where the keg is."

The Alderman eyes me for a moment, "Is that an invitation?"

She waves dismissively, left eye twitching in irritation, "Just go. Don't make a mess or Dad'll have your gizzards."

Laughing again, he winks and shuffles off behind the counter and into the kitchen in search of booze. Leaving me relatively alone with a blushing Lizzle.

Traitor.

"So, can I get you...anything?" Lizzle asks, turning up the charm a few notches, a heavy implication hanging over the offer even a Japanese romantic comedy protagonist could figure out.

I consider my response carefully. I don't have any intention of following through on her invitation. She's not my type for one thing, but for another, I have no desire to stay in Klennock for very long, and entering into a one night stand just isn't something I'm comfortable with doing, doubly-so when it's with someone I've - Nealan has - known for most of his life.

Because of that, I can't just reject her thoughtlessly. Or, well, I could, but I'd just feel guilty about it later. I can do this without being a jackass about it, can't I?

I mean, I hope so. I only ever went on a few dates in college with a girl from my boxing club before she got pissed at me quitting and dumped my ass for not talking to her about how much trouble I was having juggling practice with studying. Called me out for not trusting her enough to help. I'd say it was a bit of an overreaction, but in light of recent events maybe not.

Whatever. Focus up. I've been staring like a gormless idiot at this girl's face for like 10 seconds now.

"Appreciate the offer, but I'm not thirsty or anything. I came because the Alderman dragged me, but I really need to get home. It's been a long day and I really want to get some sleep. Recommend you find someone else to join you for a nightcap."

Her disappointment is palpable, "I see..."

Assuming she got the hint, I decide it's probably best to take my leave before this gets any more awkward than it already is. The patrons don't seem to have noticed anything, too absorbed in their own little bubbles, barely acknowledging me as I walk past and exit the building into the cool night air.

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As Nealan leaves, the hubbub dies down. As one, the people regard the silently crying barmaid, and her mother abandons the dice to comfort her daughter. They understood what happened, since neither Lizzle or Nealan was particularly subtle or quiet, and were overcome with sympathy.

Nursing a fresh mug of ale, the Alderman leans against the door. Sighing, he takes a swig and offers his silent pity to the heartbroken girl.

Another, longer draft of the foul tasting brew brings back less than pleasant memories, suffused with regret.

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The way back home is eerily quiet. But that suits me just fine. It gives me a chance to relax a little before I get home and talk with Nealan's - my - mother. Still getting used to thinking of myself and Nealan as being one and the same. It's getting easier as the hours pass, but as should be expected, I'm still having to force myself to think that way, and the disconnect still exists. Less pronounced than before my freak-out earlier, but adjusting is going remarkably well. I'll probably get over it in a month or so.

Leaving Klennock Village will help. I won't have to try so hard to be Nealan among strangers.

As my home comes into view, I notice a shadowed figure sat on a stump outside the front of the house, smoking on a pipe. The dim embers flaring up with each draft of smoke being the only light source, identifying them at this distance is difficult, but it's almost certainly my father, taking a moment to himself. Whether because of his Class or because that's just how he is, he prefers to handle stress by picking a quiet spot and idling away the time.

The pipe is new though. Mam was never comfortable with the practice, said it was a waste of good herbs. Wonder if she knows he's doing it. Not my place to judge either way, so long as it isn't the harder stuff like cannabis from Earth.

"Hey, Da," I approach him, my voice snapping him out of his reverie, "Nice evening, ain't it?"

"That it is, son. A bit too cold for my liking, though. What'd the Alderman have to say about the pack?"

Da seems lucid so it's probably not serious enough to bring up the smoking. I used to smoke near the end of high school, but my boxing coach was pretty strict about it so I ended up quitting in college. Worst week of my life I swear.

"Best I tell you and Mam both. Don't wanna repeat myself, yeah? I got some important to say on top of that too."

"Alright. Sounds reasonable," he agrees, tapping out the contents of his pipe on the side of the stump and struggling to his feet.

"Need a hand?" I ask out of concern.

He grunts, leaning heavily onto his walking stick, "No, lad, I've just been still too long. Go on in and say hi to yer Mam, I'll be there in a minute."

I frown, but if that's what he wants then so be it. I leave him breathing heavily as he tries to stay steady and enter the house, where I find Mam at the stove stirring a pot of what smells like Shellian Broth. Somewhat analogous to a lightly seasoned meat and root vegetable broth.

"Hi Mam, figured you two would have eaten by now," I say, taking a seat at the table and fiddling with my bootstraps. Not planning on leaving the house again.

"I didn't start cooking until a few minutes ago, so we'll all be eating together," Mam says, still staring at the pot's contents, "How was the Alderman?"

"Still fond of that awful ale."

Mam makes a displeased noise, "I pity poor Kelsa for having to make it for him. Goes against her pride as a brewer making it, it does. You better not have had any."

My mouth twists into a frown, "Tried it once on a dare with Jacovy, never again."

"Jacovy is the tanner's boy, isn't he? I remember having to treat him after he burned his hands on the boiling vat."

"Yeah. Tasted awful. Damn near turned away from beer forever. Didn't realise until later that the Alderman is just weird."

Da laughs as he enters, "Man doesn't choose his likes, son. Now, whyn't you get to talking about what he said about the Dirolft pack since we're all together."

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I briefly explain our shared suspicion that someone is trying to destroy Klennock Village through monster proxies over the evening meal, answering questions and concerns the best I can, before it comes to the markedly more difficult part.

"...So with that all said and done, I'm going to be leaving either tomorrow or the day after, depending on the weather."

Mam slams her hand on the table, incensed, "What?! You can't be serious!"

Yeah, she's taking that tidbit about as well as I could have expected. Da, on the other hand, is far less surprised after our conversation this afternoon, understandably. Instead of feigning shock, he pats Mam on the shoulder, signalling her to hold her embittered surprise until I've finished talking.

Thanks, Da. Ok, deep breath.

"Someone needs to get to the truth of whatever the hell is going on. There ain't another soul who can do it that won't run the village a bill a mile long or give up part-way because they got bribed or lost interest. Fact of the matter is, I'm the only one capable and motivated to see it through. The Alderman can't leave the village, and Lonn's too wet behind the ears. Don't know about the rest of the village, but since I'm the only one who has a reason to go gallivanting off into the sunset to the Adventurer Company, it's gotta be me."

I think I repeated myself in there, but whatever. Mam takes in what I say with a frown, and time passes slowly in silence. The tension is high, but when she sighs deeply in acceptance, that tension seems to deflate almost immediately. Only for tears to start welling up in her eyes once more.

"You've only just come home, Nelly. Why...why do you have to leave again so soon..?"

"Yvette..." Da cautions.

Mam, however, isn't having it, "Don't 'Yvette' me, Walther! I almost lost you both today, and now Daurn is sending my boy away from me again on a fool's errand chasing shadows that might not even exist?! Why?!"

I stand up, staring back at my furious mother. Gotta stand my ground if this is ever going to go anywhere. I know it's unfair Mam, but..

"I'm leaving because I don't want you to die. And that's the honest truth."

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Not long after, I head to my room utterly exhausted, in mind and body. I don't think I've ever had to endure this much stress all at once before. The crunch for that last paper comes close in sheer desperation, but that was out of an obligation to make good on my exorbitant tuition fee. This, this right here is far more personal than that. And I technically only met them today.

I lie in bed, undressed and ready for sleep. Heavy eyelids are all too happy to capitulate to the embrace of slumber.

Then, I wake up.

I think.

"Hello, Mr Lancaster," calls a familiar voice through the empty white void.