None of this information is to be shared with any parties other than the contractor, the client, and those definitively known to be associates of the client.

Maris had completed her contract, the beast from the Outlands successfully hunted. She sat there now with her arms folded and her legs crossed, a look of impatience on her face with a scimitar lying on the table beside her. Geren never really understood her preference for curved blades; he preferred longswords in the hand-and-a-half style himself. She still wore her traveling clothes, a black hooded cloak donned over battle leathers. A black-and-lavender shirt and skirt combination were barely visible underneath. Her raven hair—which she wore in a half-up, half-down style—blended in with the folds of the cloak’s hood.

“Well, nice to see the Irontail didn’t eat you or anything.” Geren said in jest. “How long have you been back?”

“Got back about an hour ago. Jonas said you should be arriving soon yourself. I’ll have to ask him in the morning what his definition of soon is.” She replied with a snort.

Geren smiled. Maris was the longest-tenured member of the Last Stand Mercenaries, not counting Shaugh and Geren himself. She had joined at just age twelve, though Geren hadn’t allowed her to actually perform any real mercenary work until she was fourteen. He had always considered her something like a little sister ever since their first encounter when she was just a street urchin trying to rob the wrong man for his pocket change.

“That Irontail wasn’t so bad, anyway.” She said with a shrug. “Wasn’t a Truumda or a Fulgrum, at least.”

“Hey now, I wouldn’t have let you fight a Truumda on your own. Those are downright nasty—and I would’ve given the job to Lyght had it been a Fulgrum.”

Maris just shrugged again. Geren was happy she had come back unscathed, despite the joking around. Various creatures from the Outlands had been documented and given threat levels from the scant encounters mercenaries, soldiers, and outlaws had with them over the years. Irontails were technically one of the least dangerous, but that was just from a comparison standpoint. They were still a legitimate threat to someone unprepared.

“Anyway,” Geren continued, “I was just over visiting with Shaugh. You could have come over and joined yourself instead of waiting on me.”

“Yeah, I may have done that had I known.” The bored look on her face that she consistently maintained belied the venom present in her tone.

“Ah, right…” Geren laughed nervously and scratched his head. “Jonas and Cohn probably told you I was out on a job. Which I was—two of them just outside town actually—but I decided to stop by Shaugh’s before coming back here.”

His voice took on a more serious tone. “The Onyx is apparently here in Davied, so I wanted to give Shaugh a friendly heads-up. We’ll probably be getting visited tomorrow ourselves.”

Maris seemed to actually look surprised. “Wait, why?”

Geren took a seat across from Maris and caught her up on the details, starting from the rumors Shaugh had heard a few nights prior and ending with his conversation with the guards earlier.

“What do you make of it?” She asked when he was finished.

Geren looked upwards thoughtfully. “To tell you the truth, I’m nervous. Not about Skrell—he’s an ass, but nobody from my company is involved, and we’ll have our chat with him and send him on his way easily enough. No, it’s just… It’s been quiet the past decade. Last time there were rumors like this going around about Architect Relics, things got bad for a time. I personally came out pretty well from it with how the Princess Haru rescue went when all was said and done I guess, but even that situation manifested as a result of this same nonsense.”

He turned his gaze back towards Maris. “If the High King really did have two powerful relics stolen from his personal effects… that opens up a lot of other questions I don’t know if I want to know the answers to. How many others does he have? The other governing powers… do they also have possession of such things? Who stole from Vangren and how are they—up to this point at least—getting away with it? Someone capable of that must be very powerful themselves… not to mention I can’t imagine they committed high larceny with any altruistic goals in mind.”

Maris returned Geren’s gaze with that same bored look for a bit. Then, a rare smile crept across her lips. “That’s why you’re the boss. You think about big picture stuff like that. Gives us all the confidence in you that we’re following the right person.”

She stood up from her seat. “I’m heading to bed, though. Was hanging around so we could chat for a bit when you got back, but you took so long I got tired.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, off you go.” He smiled and let out a sigh. “Glad you’re back and safe though, seriously. Lyght will be glad too when he gets back. Heard him telling Cohn the other night that he wished you and Serana were with us when we were having dinner with the new members.”

“Oh yeah, Jonas said he was gone with Feros. And we got a couple of newbies too, huh?”

“Yep. We should see them back either tomorrow, or in a few days. One or the other.” Geren said with a laugh. “Just depends on how the job goes.”

Maris nodded, then headed upstairs to her room and left Geren alone with his thoughts in the main hall.

The part I didn’t tell her…

He thought back to the job he had taken eleven years ago. Thirty-five men were hired by the Frelerian crown to venture across the Ulrorr Mountains into the Northern Outlands. The job was simple—find and recover an Architect Relic, return it to King Aylen, and get paid extremely well.

Looking back, Geren realized why Aylen had hired a bunch of mercenaries instead of sending his own men… He hadn’t counted on them surviving. In the slim chance they did survive, and managed to succeed no less, Aylen gambled that their sellsword nature would ensure they returned the item to him—few rewards could beat having a king in one’s debt. They somehow succeeded. All it took was the lives of thirty-one men.

Gabe, before he was a high-ranking member of the military, was one of the four who survived along with Geren. Jedona was another. The fourth survivor was a Gmaas named Wrok. Geren last heard that he was now the leader of a Gmaas tribe in the Tragoe Mountains in Garreghais.

Geren and Gabe had kept the artifact secret from Jedona and Wrok after they recovered it, leading them to believe the ancient vault underneath the ruins had been empty. Geren didn’t trust Jedona, a man who self-proclaimed that all of his life’s ambitions were material and vain, to not try and keep it for himself. Gabe had reservations about Wrok doing the same, given that Gmaas tended to value strength so heavily in their culture. And, well… a powerful relic would lend itself well to someone like that.

After initially reporting the job as a massive failure to King Aylen, the two of them had returned and presented the relic to the king along with an explanation. Geren let Gabe claim the majority of the credit so as to ingratiate himself with Aylen, join the military, and fast-track his ascendance up the ranks. Geren still received a large reward himself that gave him the funds needed to pay off debts he had accrued over the years, build a new home for his sister in Naj’rahn, and start the Last Stand Mercenaries two years later. The permanent good favor with the king and his close friend gaining a powerful position of authority were certainly valuable as well, material rewards aside.

He clenched his fists, frustrated with the questions he had that bore no obvious answers. I’ve seen what these things can do… Freleria has one. And that’s just what I’m privy to. I don’t know what the other countries and the Council have. The High King obviously was in possession of multiple, and most likely has more that *weren’t* stolen. These thieves now have a pair themselves. And Architects know if any raiding parties and the like have scavenged any themselves over the years.

Relaxing his fists and letting out a sigh, he stood up and began heading towards the stairs to go to bed himself.

Yeah, Maris, I’m nervous. But it’s not all a complete unknown like I made it sound. It’s not all just rumors for me. I know enough to understand the potential danger, but not enough to know *what* the danger actually is…

That’s the part that really makes me nervous.

Morning came, and Geren was pleased to find that his thoughts were less troubled after a good night’s sleep. He headed downstairs to find Jonas, Maris, and Cohn all seated and talking amongst themselves. No breakfast from Shaugh this morning, it seemed.

“Good morning.” Jonas said with a quick flash of a grin as he stood up to move to his usual spot at his desk. “Maris told me about the unpleasant visitor we’re expecting today.”

“Yeah, most likely. Should be quick though.” Geren replied with a sigh.

“That’s what you think.” Cohn said with a smirk. “Little do you know I’ve got Vangren’s precious trinkets stowed away—”

“Shut up.” Maris interjected. “Nobody wants to hear one of your dumb jokes.”

Breakfast came and went mostly unperturbed, save for Cohn almost losing his fingers to Maris’s blade when he tried swiping some food off of her plate. Early afternoon arrived after a couple hours of sparring, followed by playing cards around the table through and after lunch.

A knock at the door got everyone’s attention. Six eyes turned to Geren, each of the others present expecting him to be the one to answer it. The mercenary leader got up and ambled over to do just that. To nobody’s surprise, Skrell was on the other side of the door when Geren opened it. The Feroxi walked in with a curt nod of acknowledgement to Geren, not waiting to be invited.

Skrell’s fur was as dark as Geren assumed his heart was to match. His uniform was black as well, though it did have royal blue and crimson red accents around the cuffs, collar, and waist—the High Army’s colors. Light pieces of silver decorated the uniform at the forearms, shoulders, and thighs. The outfit was completed with a helmet specially shaped so his ears could poke through—a common problem Feroxi faced with headgear—and his snarling visage could easily be seen. Standing at nearly seven feet, he was one of the tallest Feroxi on record. Geren often forgot that Feros was technically below average height for his kind, given that he still stood a couple inches taller than Geren himself. Seeing Skrell in person was a reminder.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I expect you know why I’m here, Wolf.” Skrell growled “You’re always more informed than you should be”.

Shutting the door, Geren laughed and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “I’ve got an idea, yeah. Lay it on me anyway, Onyx.”

He emphasized Skrell’s title with just enough of a hint of hostility that it could almost be mistaken as a joke meant to return the favor of Skrell calling him Wolf.

“Don’t waste my time. I want to see your records for the jobs your company has been hired to complete these last two months. Any records you have of jobs that you turned down will also be required, assuming you keep track of those.”

Geren shrugged. “Eh, if we kept records for every time we turned away some drunkard who wandered by and asked us to help him kill the rats in his attic, we’d be drowning in paperwork.”

Skrell scowled but didn’t retort.

“More than we already are, at least.” Geren continued with a wry smile. “May take Jonas an awfully long time to gather it for you.”

“Are you hiding something or just trying to get on my bad side for no reason?”

“I’m just speaking facts and answering questions. If I was trying to get on your bad side, I’d at least want it to be for a good reason”. He winked and gave a nod to Jonas to begin gathering what Skrell asked for.

“If you were nicer, we’d invite you to play cards with us while you wait!” Cohn chided from his seat at the table, drawing laughter from the other Last Stand members.

Several minutes passed as Skrell stood silently near the administration desk, waiting for Jonas to get the documents organized. Geren had moved from his spot near the door and was leaning against the wall by the desk now. Cohn and Maris had switched from playing cards the traditional way to instead having a competition of who could build the more impressive structures with the cards. From what Geren could see, Maris was winning handily. One would have trouble telling though if they were to just look at her expression, as she looked as bored as ever. Cohn wasn’t much of a match though, so being bored was fair in this case.

“Surely you people haven’t had that many jobs in two months!” Skrell suddenly growled loudly.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked us to include job requests we turned down.” Jonas replied with a somehow straight face. “I’m just trying to make sure I don’t leave anything out. I take pride in my work, same as I’m sure you do.”

Cohn’s card structure fell apart as he began laughing while trying to add another card to it, accidentally knocking it over. Even Maris cracked a smile, though she continued building with no trouble. It was rare for Jonas to be sarcastic or snarky. He was the straight man in the group, always focused on handling the menial tasks and making sure the numbers added up right while the rest of them casted spells, swung their swords, and told jokes.

Several more minutes passed. Skrell finally seemed to lose patience.

“Okay, time's up. Documents—now.”

Jonas sat down at his desk and dropped a stack of papers on top of it. “Right, right. This should be everything. Can’t promise it though, being rushed and all. Now, starting from two months ago…”

He trailed off and began to shuffle through the assortment.

“Aha. Here we go.” Jonas pulled one out and showed it to Skrell, who looked it over.

I wonder how Lyght is doing…

Geren’s thoughts began to drift as he and the others had gotten their fill of wasting Skrell’s time and were now just waiting for him to leave. He knew that Lyght and the others would be fine. But, the Onxy’s presence reminded Geren of the unease which had been gnawing at him the night before that he thought he had slept off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about the re-emergence of Architect Relic rumors combined with the cases of Outlands monsters crossing into civilian countryside that seemed to indicate something bigger was happening behind the continent’s curtain.

There was still a small part of him that wondered if he had done right by Lyght, bringing him into this kind of life. Putting oneself in danger, taking the lives of others, the constant travel outside of the city versus being comfortable within the walls… Lyght certainly seemed happy, and he had undeniable natural talent both as a mage and a swordsman. However, if Geren’s anxieties manifested into reality, Lyght would no doubt get involved.

Would that still be the case if Geren had given him to a simple family to learn a safer trade in a less volatile environment? Or would the same events happen regardless, and Lyght would simply be less prepared to face them had Geren given him to that kind of life? There was no way to be sure. Thinking back to that day he had found him, Geren wondered—

His thoughts were interrupted abruptly like a bubble that had popped. Skrell was growing noticeably angry, beginning to shout and argue over the details of some of Jonas’s documentation. By the Architects, a beast of his size and strength getting upset was certainly something nobody wanted to be on the wrong side of. Jonas was doing a good job staying calm and trying to speak plainly to the general about the facts of the paperwork, mostly letting the records speak for themselves. There wasn’t a soul alive that was more confident in their organizational skills and logic than Jonas, in Geren’s estimation.

Geren wasn’t sure what exactly had Skrell so heated. Was it simply frustration boiling over due to another dead end? Perhaps he had actually hoped to find something of substance on his search here. It could also just be an attempt to get Jonas to work faster. Those military types—particularly in the High Army—seemed to think a loud enough voice and harsh enough tone was all that was needed to get someone to do a job.

“Bah! Useless!” the Onyx General roared.

Before Skrell could act, Geren made his move. He had seen the prediction shadow, after all. Dashing forward with just a few quick steps, he caught Skrell’s wrist just as the Feroxi had begun to bring his arm overhead. A pen from Jonas’s desk was in his clawed hand. Just a second later, and the pen would have been in Jonas’s hand—sticking through and pinning it to the table, specifically.

“You’ve got ten seconds to drop the pen and get the hells out of my building.” Geren said with a coldness to his tone that the other crew members had only heard on a couple rare occasions.

Skrell glared down at him with fury in his eyes. Geren thought for a moment that he was about to actually have to fight The Onyx right there in the middle of his own headquarters. It seemed that would have to wait for some other time, though. The pen dropped back to the top of the desk with a clatter. Geren let go of Skrell’s wrist, but maintained eye contact and continued to channel his essence as he stepped aside to clear Skrell’s path to the door.

“You’re lucky I’m on a tight schedule, Wolf.” Skrell growled through clenched fangs. “You’re also lucky your paperwork is clean. I’ll be on my way.”

He stalked off to the front of the building, pausing as he reached the door. “I hope that was a good reason as you put it.” He growled, then exited through the door, making sure to slam it as on his way out.

In addition to tracing, capable mages could also utilize a technique known as zoning. This allowed a mage to maintain an area of effect in a zone around them so long as their circuits were consistently channeling essence. It had varying effects depending on what kind of magic the mage utilized, but the root benefit regardless of magic type was that it enabled a mage to continuously trace their magic into the immediate environment around them.

In Geren’s case, he was able to expand his weapon prediction capabilities to encompass a bubble-like zone around him. This allowed him to see prediction shadows for nearly anything that his brain could perceive as capable of being used as a weapon within that bubble. With the zone active, he didn’t need to manually trace his foe’s equipment as he had done with Gargarel’s axe days prior. It did require a very high level of concentration and was physically taxing to maintain for prolonged periods, so he got by without using the technique unless the situation called for it.

Geren relaxed and let his zone drop. He hadn’t kept it up long—just since Skrell had started getting loud and snapped him out of his daydreaming—but it had thankfully been good timing to prevent Jonas from getting injured.

Looking towards Maris and Cohn, Geren saw that the pair were both standing with weapons in hand. Though only Geren could see what his magic showed him, his crew was trained to react to his movements instinctively, ready to back him up in case things did get violent. Maris sheathed her scimitar, the need to use it now passed. Cohn held a shortsword in his left and a spear in his right, neither of which were present moments earlier. They dissipated as he let out what Geren assumed was a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, guys. I know you would have had my back if it had come to that.”

Geren turned his attention to Jonas. “Sorry about that. I should have been more on guard from the start. You nearly got hurt.”

Jonas just smiled and shook his head while he put various documents back where they belonged. “Really now. You come to my rescue and then apologize. You know, you were telling Troy the other day how he needs to think more of the things he can do instead of what he can’t. And also the importance of moving on from mistakes and not getting down on yourself.” He absently pointed with the same pen Skrell had held moments earlier. “Listen to your own advice, Chief.”

The bespectacled man turned from his papers and met Geren’s eyes as he continued. “Thank you. No apology needed.”

Geren felt a bit embarrassed for a brief moment. Then he laughed, realizing the irony of him—the leader of the whole mercenary company—being reminded of his own lessons by one of his crew members.

“What got Ugly so worked up anyway, Jonas?” Cohn asked, walking over with Maris to join Jonas and Geren at the desk.

“Yeah, seemed like a bit of an overreaction from where I was.” Maris added.

“To be fair, other peoples’ normal reactions probably seem like overreactions to you, Maris.” Jonas replied with a chuckle. “But, to answer the question… I believe he was expecting to find something. When it was absent from our records, well, you saw the result.”

Geren raised an eyebrow. “Why would he expect to find something? We’re probably the cleanest mercenary crew in all of Venterias, save for Cedren and his Silverwings.”

“Well…” Jonas began with a concerned tone. “This may be why.”

He procured a rolled-up document from the sleeve of his overcoat. Laying it out on the table, Geren could see it was clearly a contract. It wasn’t one he recognized, however.

This contract acts as an official agreement for services rendered by the mercenary contractor and the client. The contractor will ensure that a high-value item is safely transported via mercenary escort. Half of the pay will be up front, with the other half being received once the escort arrives with the item in question. Researchers on-site at the target location will verify the validity of the item to ensure it is what is proper and expected before the additional pay is rewarded. The target location is Galnion, and the contractor has been given verbal notice of what signal to give once they are in town. The item is believed to be an Architect Relic of unknown power. None of this information is to be shared with any parties other than the contractor, the client, and those definitively known to be associates of the client. The Last Stand Mercenaries pledge to not disclose any of this information lest they void the contract and face the threat of a stain on their reputation as a result.

Reading it over, the details were completely foreign to him. The contract was for a transport job. Specifically, it was a job to assist with ensuring that a high security item believed to be an Architect Relic was safely delivered to the town of Galnion in western Freleria. The pay was… a lot. The date was just under two weeks ago. No name was listed for the client. None of the information made any sense.

“What the hells is this?” Geren asked, his words coming out in a slow stretch of disbelief and confusion.

“I found it when gathering the paperwork Skrell asked for. I was able to quickly hide it in my sleeve without him noticing. Honestly, I think you three distracted him for just a bit with your comedy act to allow me the opening. He was watching me like a hawk otherwise.”

“But what is it? It’s definitely no job we’ve taken, so how did it get here? And why would Skrell be expecting to find…” Geren trailed off, rubbing his fingers along his chin in thought.

“Precisely.” Jonas said with a nod, acknowledging that Geren had come to the same realization he had. “It’s not one of our jobs, but it was mixed in with our paperwork and certainly looks incriminating. He got so upset because he was supposed to find it. Or… so he thought at least. Skrell was tipped off by someone, I would guess. And that same someone is probably the one who put it there in the first place. It’s a forged contract. It was a plant.”