"Hold still. This will hurt a little, but it's better than leaving the cut open."

Drake sat on a bed in the outpost's infirmary, with his mouth open as a bearded man, in his fifties, looked at his tongue. By his side was a creature that looked like an angel, or a fallen angel, to be more exact. Instead of having a human look, it was completely bald, with dark, almost black skin. It's eyes were completely white, as were it's four wings. It made for an interesting contrast. And, it was only thirty centimeters tall.

He was more than used to that Ifere. It was one of the most common life-type Iferes, a species called Arton. Medics and doctors all around the world made contracts with them, because of their healing skills.

Now, the Arton was using one of those skills, called Light Curtain. A small net made of white treads covered Drake, and he started feeling a slightly painful ticking in his mouth, as the wound closed.

"Good job, Arton. As for you, young man, your tongue will be sore for two or three days, but that's all. It's much better than letting it heal naturally, don't you think?"

"It sure is. Thanks, doc."

The man nodded, acknowledging his thanks. One of the many responsibilities of an army doctor was to treat travelers, without charging them. The country paid everything. Not because they were nice, of course. However, it was a duty of every person who dared to travel the wilderness to aid the army when it was needed. That was an unspoken agreement that few dared to break, otherwise they wouldn't be well received in any outpost or city.

As for why the army required assistance from civilians from time to time, it was simple. This was a world where the strong ate the weak, and there were many who were stronger than the soldiers. A city was rarely attacked by bandits or an Ifere horde, but small settlements and outposts were constantly wiped out of the map. Having a traveler with a powerful Ifere partner as an ally was useful.

"So, how did you get hurt? Bandits, wild Iferes, or did you just fall?"

As the doctor put away his tools, and started to put on his uniform - he was a lieutenant - Drake and Frainer too got up.

"We were attacked by a Moontrit, fifteen kilometers from here, towards Blue Coral City."

Hearing that, the doctor stopped abruptly, and turned around. The look he gave Drake made him feel like he was being stared at by a predator.

"A Moontrit by these sides? And you survived? I thought you were just a newbie adventurer."

"Y-Yeah... I am."

"Did he use Death Stare? Is that why you were so shaken up when you got here?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Follow me."

"Wait! Where are we going?"

Confused, Drake went after the medic. The man was a soldier after all, so it was difficult not to obey when he gave an order.

Almost running through corridors and rooms, they arrived in front of a wooden door, on which the words 'Major Johnson' were carved. The room must be the major's office, while he was almost certainly the commander of the outpost.

Stolen story; please report.

The doctor knocked on the door, and waited patiently, his hands behind his back. Only now Drake realized he had a pistol on his hip. For some reason, he had thought a doctor - even an army one - wouldn't carry weapons, but clearly, he was wrong.

"Enter."

Stopping his random train of thought, Drake followed the doctor inside, with Frainer on his shoulder. The young Ifere was curious about everything. And then he discovered that Major Johnson was a she, not a he, as he previously thought.

She was sitting behind a desk, using the same blue attire the other soldiers did, only with a lot more pins on it. Her hair was cut short, and her eyes were cold as she looked at the doctor, ignoring Drake completely.

Sitting on the other side of the desk, in front of her, was a black man using civilian clothes. He was on his thirties, with shaved hair, and was strong. He had a knife and two pistols on his belt, contradicting the first impression his clothes gave. No one other than the military was allowed to carry weapons inside an outpost, so he must be part of it.

On his lap was an Ifere Drake had never seen. The man was stroking it calmly, and smiled at Drake, immediately leaving a good impression.

"What is it, Lieutenant Morton?"

As Major Johnson spoke, the doctor saluted her, his back straight. With his head, he pointed at Drake.

"The kid says he was attacked by a Moontrit not too far from here, ma'am."

"Oh? You survived an attack by a Moontrit? What is your name?"

Before the major could say anything, the black man was already looking at Drake curiously. The lizard-like Ifere on his lap opened an eye, but soon lost interest.

"Drake, sir. My name is Drake."

"Ranger, this is my outpost, remember?"

"Of course. Sorry, Major Johnson. You can ask the questions."

Although the stern stare the major had was enough to make Drake shudder, the man only shrugged, and made a half-smile. He didn't seem worried at all.

"Where were you attacked?"

"Fifteen kilometers from here... Err... Major Johnson. Towards Blue Coral City. I came from there."

"Lieutenant Morton, organize a patrol. We can't have a wild Moontrit attacking our roads."

"Yes, ma'am."

The doctor turned around and left. Drake heard him yelling orders at some sergeant outside. He stood there, not knowing what to do, while the two other people in the room turned to talk to one another again.

"Is there anything else? If not, you should leave. Civilians aren't allowed to be here by themselves."

"Uhmm... I killed it, major."

"Killed who?"

"The Moontrit."

There was a startled silence for a few seconds, before the man broke into laughter, and Major Johnson frowned.

"Haha! This is clearly the first time you left your mom's house, boy, and you are telling me you killed a Moontrit? Even experienced soldiers would have difficulty with those."

"But I did kill it, sir. Death-type creatures are rarely eaten. The body should still be there, if you wanna check."

Hearing Drake reaffirming it, the black man looked at him with a new light in his eyes. Even Major Johnson seemed slightly impressed.

"Let me introduce myself properly, Drake. My name is Ben Higler, a ranger of the Confederation."

It was Drake's turn to be stunned. Rangers were people he had only heard about in stories. They were skilled in every way of fighting, and with every weapon. They made no distinction between humans and Iferes, and always strived for justice. And, even more impressive, they didn't work for just one kingdom. They were directly under the command of the leader of the Confederation.

The Confederation, as it was simply called, was composed by the twelve kingdoms. The leader was someone chosen exclusively by the kings and queens, and his or hers authority was only lower than that of the leaders of the countries themselves.

As for the rangers, they were the elite force of the Confederation. No matter where they went, or in what kingdom they were, everyone owned them respect.

And the normal-looking man before Drake was a ranger.