The way back felt shorter to James. Maybe the idea of rest coming closer a step at a time enhanced that feeling. Or it was the destination in sight, the gray walls of Avi’Gale in the distance, instead of an unknown location on the looming mountains that did the trick.

It was pleasant too. Apart from the aches, scrapes, bruises, and his wonderfully half-size too-small boots, it was a pleasant hike back to the city.

He took a step too fast and winced. He was forcing himself to move in a controlled calculated manner. The return trip gave his body enough time to cool down and at the same time revealed the extent of the damage. His knees had scrapes, his arms had scrapes, his legs had bruises, his shoulders had bruises, and the majority of his muscles ached. Apparently, repeatedly throwing himself down on the ground wasn’t as painless as the action movies suggested.

He was not entirely alone on the hike back to the city. He had a rocky companion rolling along with him, a step behind his tired feet, and James guessed it was the same one that had followed him on their way to the valley. Once he was back on the dirt road it had spotted James and strangely chose to tag along for the return trip too.

A wisp, Hox the gleemix had called it. When he wasn’t brooding over the fact that he was talking to a human, Hox was quite chatty. The gleemix seemed in a better mood after watching his struggles with the fghel. Probably James had been good entertainment.

The gleemix had stopped him before he left and warned him twice against attracting the wisp's attention, for someone who detested talking to a human that must be a dire warning.

It appeared the little things were literally blessings in disguise, forces of nature that somehow decided to take corporeal form. They were not so rare to spot in the blessed lands and tended to follow solitary travelers on their journeys.

Yet it wasn't widely known, to Hox at least, what attracted the wisps in the first place. But his warning came out nevertheless. It was said, that if someone was careless the wisp could latch onto him, molding itself in his body and incidentally bestowing the qualities of its chosen form to an unpredictable and likely deadly result.

Since James didn’t want to become part rock he would keep his distance.

A cool breeze passed over him soothing his worries with the melodic sound of fields and fields of dancing grass. The northwinds that descended the Kildashan peaks had that refreshing twist that helped him clear his mind of troubled thoughts.

The sky was brightly lit yet the sun was not punishing. A more perfect time for contemplation James could not find even if he searched for it.

A step at a time, a goal reached. He thought to himself.

Gather information, get reliable allies that can help, and…go the hell back home.?

The three Gs.

Okay, that didn’t connect as much as he would have liked, he had forced the wording a bit, yet he chuckled at his silly mind playing with his thoughts.

Gather get’go! He hoorayed inwardly.

His memories brought him back to the past. Not on a hike but on a familiar march. A line of soldiers marching on a beaten mountain path, with a heavy Bergen rucksack strapped on the shoulders and a riffle held between tired arms for hours and hours with no end.

He remembered the pain on his traps where the Bergen straps bit at his shoulders. He remembered changing socks. Every few hours. Clean dry socks. There was a lesson to be learned right there.

Have you seen what hours of carrying a heavy load did to your feet, when the socks soak in the sweat and the blisters start forming?

Well, he had seen that. Some private had ignored the order to change socks. The wet fabric had stuck to the soles of his feet. At training's end, when he had pulled at the fabric, the skin had come off together with the sock. It was and still is a horrifying image living in his head that brought forth a special appreciation for fresh clean socks.

He would need some extra pairs now that he thought about it, after he bought new comfortable boots, of course. Some additional armor for defense too, and a better weapon than the old knife he carried with him.

He needed gear, lots of gear.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

I need money. That's what I need.

The four Gs. These were his main goals.

—-

His rolling companion was lagging as they neared the city gates. James saw several riders trotting on a parallel path towards the opening and maybe the wisp had sensed them as well as it now rolled in the indecision of which was the most suitable arse to follow.

The little traitor!

No matter, Hox had informed him the wisp wouldn’t follow him inside the city. Something that had to do with their solitary nature and the bustle of the city being opposites and whatnot.

One less problem for him to consider. Concerningly the wisp did seem a little attached to him.

Under the gate, a pair of idle soldiers in mix-matched armor with their spears set comfortably against the walls were keeping watch over the foot traffic. Their eyes tracked leisurely from the shadows and briefly focused on James as he made it through unimpeded.

There was no vigorous security or identification system in the city of Avi’Gale. Whoever came this close to the lost lands was let inside much to James’s confusion. The city either had no strategic importance to require surveilance or the ruling big three couldn’t agree on anything.

Even if this benefited him, without having any ID to show, it did seem reckless in his opinion. He pushed down the thought to the ‘not his problem’ pile, after all, he had to get in shape for his shift which wouldn't be too long from starting.

A fresh change of clothes, one of the few he had left, washing the last signs of the battle off him, and a big hearty meal prepared by Ann got him a little bit of spring back to his step. He chose to pass the little time he had left before the third bell in his room, lying in bed.

When finally the bell rang he had been drifting to sleep. A terrible mistake on his part since getting back up was twice as hard with a groggy cloudy mind and an ache-filled body.

In stark contrast to his first night on the job, looking grim and powerful, the second found him sitting on a barstool placed by the doors, and leaning against the wall in what looked like a copy of the soldiers ‘guarding’ the gate. He didn’t feel any shame in letting anyone inside the Twin Claw’s without a fuss, maybe there was a lesson there too. Don’t jump to conclusions too fast or something similar, as far as he knew the gate guards could have been farming fghels all morning.

It was to his great satisfaction and expectation when finally the fourth bell rang and he made his way to the bar to caress a soothing pint of ale.

He could recognize a few regular patrons by now, most of whom waved or nodded each time he passed by. Being considered of the tavern's muscle was a thing here too it seemed. Merek took a good look at his beaten appearance before pushing the ale his way.

“Tough first day, huh?” He asked before filling another pint from the barrel behind the bar counter.

“You can tell?” James replied with a chuckle that would bring pity to anyone who overheard.

“Life’s tough in Avi’Gale for newcomers, but I'm not feeling sorry for you yet. Working two odd jobs isn’t uncommon for many here.”

“Mmm,” James grumbled but Merek was probably right, he needed at least two jobs to buy the things he required.

The cult would give him a number of those jobs through the seasons, they were paid as well. The minor blessing he had received was not worth that much work, it had been an equal exchange between him and the cult leader. Any additional work was paid, and it was more or less voluntary. Less, in his case.

The wages from this job depended on how well the fghels sold in the market. It was a commodity that was never in stock and always sold the moment it appeared. What it was used for James didn’t know yet.

With both wages combined, tomorrow he could afford to buy a new pair of boots. He already imagined the curses Hox would throw his way for delaying their departure.

“Look at Martha there, a good kid that one. She works the night shift here and tends to their fields the rest of the day.” He said with a smile watching Martha’s ears from afar doing a double take and then somehow appearing embarrassed.

James suspected this time it included actual farming and not trying to behead the monstrosities he had struggled with. He couldn't imagine the little waitress doing anything like it. She was too timid for this kind of work.

“I got you, I got you,” he said raising a defeated hand. “I won’t fuss… Merek?”

The bartender’s previous smile disappeared into a frown, while his body stiffened. His knuckles shone white on the wooden counter he held. An intense gaze was on his face, and James followed it to the tavern’s entrance.

There, just at the half-open doors stood a hooded figure. That by itself wouldn’t be so strange, but it appeared that this particular stranger held the attention of several nearby patrons. A slow hush descended in the tavern hall as more and more patrons noticed the arrival.

“The Guild,” Merek hissed as James took better stock of the figure.

A hilt protruded from the grey cloak the stranger was wearing, possibly from a proper sword. There was a light glint of chainmail, obscured enough from the cloak not to be obvious. The figure stood tall, not as tall as James, but tall enough to be imposing, and with the dark background the night provided, it sculped a menacing visage.

James noticed markings on the cloak on both shoulders, a simple sword in front of a plain shield painted white. As generic as these things got in his opinion and from these marks it was how Merek and the patrons had identified this stranger. The Guild guild mark might be simple but like many symbols, they could produce awe or fear for their meaning instead of their design.

And then the hooded figure pulled down the hood. James ignored a whispered curse that escaped Merek’s lips. He wasn’t conscious of the few patrons gasping from realization, or the others who just gulped appreciating what they saw. Because as James saw it, on the other side of the tavern hall stood the perfect woman.