Eliminate the bandits in question that are responsible for accosting the farm. Job is done when the farm is considered safe.

Lyght and Feros walked along the second-floor walkway together to join the others at the table in the main lobby of the mercenary hall for breakfast. The smell of freshly spiced sausage and roasted potatoes wafted up the stairs towards the pair from the kitchen where Shaugh was cooking. He often hung out at the hall in the mornings before heading back over to the Dice & Sword to get the business ready for the rest of the day and evening. His cooking skills were a welcome presence.

It was Feros that had been knocking when Lyght woke up. The Feroxi had apparently been awake for several hours already. Lyght wasn’t surprised; he’d learned over the years that Feros often didn’t sleep as much as humans did. When asked about it, he would simply say that he didn’t need it. He cited Feroxi physiology as just being different, as if that sufficed as a qualifiable answer that needed no further expounding. They rounded the corner and began their descent down the stairs.

“So, figure anything out about that problem of yours?” Feros asked.

“Yeah, actually. Had a dream where a fairy came to me and explained everything. Said that I’m being tormented from a version of me in a past life that committed terrible deeds. I’m to suffer one headache for each terrible deed the past me committed… And he apparently had quite the list.” Lyght replied sarcastically.

“What’s the point of wasting so many words when you could just summarize by saying ‘I’m an idiot’”? Feros retorted with a scoff as they stepped off the final step down onto the ground floor of the main lobby.

Geren waved to them with his fork from his seat at the table. “Morning, boys! Nice to see that Feros is in a chipper mood as always this morning!” He called, seemingly having overheard the last bit of the conversation.

Lyght and Feros took seats on the side of the table closer to the stairs & kitchen in the back. Jonas sat far to the left at the administration desk with a cup of tea in one hand and a pen in the other. Geren sat across from them, his usual laid-back demeanor being no different even so early in the morning. The sound of conversation could be heard from the kitchen—Cohn and Shaugh’s voices. Gargarel and Troy were nowhere to be seen.

“For seeming so excited to go on their first job, they’re sure slow to get around, huh?” Lyght asked.

Geren frowned and looked at Feros. “Did you not wake them up also?”

Feros answered in a simple tone as if the answer were obvious. “I didn’t feel obligated to. I woke Lyght up as a courtesy since it would be a bad look for him if he were the last one to come down for breakfast. A pair of rookies like them should prove they can rouse themselves in a timely manner.”

Taking a sip from his drink, Geren looked thoughtful with what Lyght guessed was a small glimmer of regret in his eye. Geren sat the cup down and began speaking. “Eh, let them rest a little longer I guess. I was probably a bit hard on them yesterday in their test battle.”

“You really think they’ve got what it takes?” Lyght asked. “I guess I’m a bit skeptical of Troy. He just looks... way too prim and proper for someone in this line of work. Gargarel seems like he can hold his own in a fight, though, and it’s nice having a Gmaas on the team. First one since Ceramis left to join the Silverwings. That kind of raw strength will come in handy.”

Letting out a small sigh, Geren responded. “Yes I think they’ll both fit in just fine. True, Troy doesn’t exactly look the part. But… I can tell he has a good head on his shoulders, and he showed some good battle sense in yesterday’s test fight. Not everything is about how strong someone is or how impressive their magic abilities are, you know. I taught you better than that.”

At that moment, the door to the kitchen swung open and Shaugh emerged with Cohn following. A collection of plates were impressively balanced along the length of Shaugh’s large arms. He moved to the table and deftly slid the plates down from the end of the table, three of them coming to a stop directly in front of a hungry face and the other four stopping at empty seats for those who were not yet seated. Walking over to Jonas at the administration desk, he handed the bespectacled man the last plate while Cohn grabbed a seat at the table.

Taking a seat next to Geren, Shaugh shook his head at the absence of Gargarel and Troy. “Come on now, those new boys aren’t awake yet? This food is too good for that. It deserves to be eaten fresh!”

“They’ll be down shortly I’m sure. Maybe the smell of the food will drift upstairs and into their dreams, and they’ll wake up with hungry stomachs.” Geren said with a wink.

Several minutes later, after most of the crew had finished their plates, Troy and Gargarel appeared from the stairwell. Gargarel had a disheveled look befitting one who had just gotten out of bed, not yet having donned his armor, while Troy looked surprisingly well-groomed given his late rising. His blonde hair was tied back like it had been the day prior and he wore a buttoned beige shirt that was free of wrinkles. The two sat down in the pair of empty seats where the plates of breakfast still awaited them.

“Nice of you two to join us!” Geren quipped. “Was beginning to wonder if I beat up on you too badly yesterday. A couple more minutes and I would have given Cohn permission to eat your servings.”

“I’d lika shee ‘im try. Noboduh stans butween me an’ food.” Gargarel said while yawning vigorously, making it slightly difficult to decipher his words.

“Well you wouldn’t have seen me, because you would still be asleep. That was kind of his point, you know.” Cohn remarked.

Troy cleared his throat and straightened the collar on his shirt. “Please do not mistake my late arrival for breakfast as a consequence of sleeping late like Gargarel. I was simply doing my morning grooming to make sure my appearance was to satisfactory standards.”

Lyght couldn’t help himself as he let out a snort of amusement, sharing a look with Feros. “Satisfactory standards huh? Here’s hoping you can handle those ‘standards’ being tested when we’re traveling on the road. Those bandits aren’t gonna care about how nice and formal you look, you know.”

Giving Lyght a look that bordered on a glare very briefly, Troy then relaxed his face, shrugged, and began eating without saying anything else. Gargarel let out another long yawn and cracked his neck, then dug into his meal as well.

“So after the four of you finish eating and get geared up,” Geren said, “you’ll be on your way. Farm is a bit less than a day’s travel off—you’ll be able to get there tonight if you leave early and move quickly enough.”

He pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket and pushed it across the table. Lyght took it and looked it over, then pocketed it himself.

Job is done when the farm is ‘considered safe’, huh? Lyght thought to himself. He shared a look with Geren, who gave a quick nod as if to confirm he knew what Lyght was thinking.

“Directions to the farm and the details of the contract,” Geren explained as he noticed Gargarel and Troy’s eyes following along the path the paper took across the table. “Lyght’s the most senior member of you four so he’s in charge. You’ll follow his lead. The speed you travel at, when and where to camp if camping is necessary, actions to take and strategy to employ on the job itself, when the job is considered complete, and… anything else, really.”

“You’re weedin’ my garden, I’d have guessed it would be Feros.” Gargarel said. Surprisingly, he swallowed his food before speaking this time.

Geren smiled and pointed his fork towards Gargarel. “Lyght’s actually been a part of the team longer. Don’t let his age fool you.”

“He’s the one who technically recruited Feros, actually.” Jonas piped up from his spot over at the administration desk.

“Hmph. If that’s what you want to call it.” Feros said with a snort, crossing his arms. His usual pose, regardless of whether he was standing or sitting. A bystander who observed him frequently would likely have the impression that he was always impatiently waiting on something. Lyght sometimes wondered if he was. Maybe waiting on everyone to leave him alone?

“Job itself should be easy enough.” said Geren, getting the conversation back on topic. “Just keep an eye out while you guys are traveling. I went for my usual morning walk earlier before breakfast. Checked in with the guards at the main gate on the south side. They said the rumors they’ve been hearing from travelers passing through have been… interesting, lately. Apparently, that beast from the Outlands that Maris is hunting isn’t the only one that’s come across the borders. Keep your eyes peeled more than usual is all I’m saying.”

Everyone nodded along in silent understanding at Geren’s words.

“Speaking of interesting rumors, I got a pair of military lackeys talking at the bar last night after you all left”. Shaugh looked troubled as he spoke. “Nothing official, mind you, but the information supposedly trickled down throughout the ranks from some higher-ups in the High Army. The word is that a couple of Architect Relics were stolen from High Palace. High King Vangren is understandably not happy about it. If the leaks are accurate, he’ll be sending envoys to cities throughout the continent to poke around and ask questions—try to find a lead of some kind. We could expect to see them poking around here in Davied soon.”

Architect Relics. Lyght had heard of them; their mythos was firmly rooted in Venterian history. The Architects was the name given to the civilization that lived on the continent in ages past, before the first settlers from current civilization had arrived from distant lands overseas a little over two hundred years ago.

When those first settlers had arrived, cities were already built throughout the continent, and there were signs of a great civilization that had once existed here. These cities were empty, however, and no evidence had ever been found that the intelligent life responsible for the cities’ creation still existed. They were extinct—the cities and other various structures scattered around Venterias remaining as remnants to remember them by.

Scholars theorized that some terrible tragedy befell The Architects—a tragedy that involved the Outlands somehow. Explorers brave enough to explore their depths told tales of ruins that were thought to also once be magnificent cities. Those ruins, along with the other phenomena contained within the lands, served as the basis for the theories that something in The Outlands must have happened at some point. At the least, it helped to explain the eerie feeling like one was walking in a massive country-sized graveyard when they stepped foot into those lands. The mystery was what the something was.

Somewhere along the way in modern civilization's history, legends about powerful magical items originating from the age of the Architects had begun circulating—Architect Relics. Their existence had initially been dismissed by the governing powers of Venterias as being purely theoretical, but information still managed to spread amongst the public on occasion that reignited the belief in their existence.

It was just over five years ago that the Council had announced, as they claimed it was in the best interest of the Venterian citizens to know, that Architect Relics did indeed exist and some such items had been recovered from deep in the Outlands and were being studied. Since then, further activity regarding the items had been mostly kept secret, but information still leaked from time to time.

Many people, Lyght among them, held a belief that Architect Relics had in fact been known about by the governing powers of the continent for much longer than was publicly disclosed and were simply kept secret, with the initial “legends” about them actually being truthful information that was known and leaked to the public by unknown sources.

“Makes you wonder what really goes on behind closed doors when it comes to each country… the High Crown… the Council...” Geren murmured to himself.

It appeared to Lyght that Geren looked troubled for a moment, but he seemingly brushed it off with a shake of his head as he continued. “Ah well. As far as I know, none of us were responsible, so we’ve got nothing to worry about right?” This was met with laughs around the table, the mood lightening.

He’s doing that thing that he does sometimes... Makes everyone laugh with one his quips to distract them from something that’s troubling him.

Lyght had to learn that trick from somewhere, after all. He was confident he knew Geren better than anybody. Even Shaugh, who had served with Geren on multiple occasions well before Lyght met the man, including the job to rescue Princess Haru. He noticed things in Geren’s demeanor that others seemed to miss. It had been obvious to him since a young age that Geren was a troubled man deep down, but he just wasn’t sure what the exact reason for it was.

Perhaps it was an amalgamation of all the various events that had occurred throughout his life. He had no doubt endured numerous hardships and experienced terrible tragedies firsthand. Those weren’t the stories people wanted to hear, however. Those weren’t the stories that made others happy. So… those were the stories that he never told.

Once breakfast was finished, Shaugh departed to begin the preparations for the Dice & Sword to open for lunch. Cohn left as well to go assist in the distribution of the stolen goods he had finished documenting yesterday; much of it was still needing to be returned to the original owners.

Lyght and the other three who were leaving on the farm defense job got their gear and minds ready to depart. They congregated in the main lobby, Geren looking them over with his hands on his hips and a smile of soft content on his face.

“Alright guys, good luck. One thing for each of you before you go, though…” Geren trailed off as he fished in pocket. He pulled out four small stones and held them between his fingers like a gambler held betting chips.

“Those are runes, yes?” Troy inquired.

“Right you are. You wanted to know my ‘trick’, as you called it, that I used when I fought you and Gargarel. Well, here you go.” He replied, tossing a rune to each of them.

“Those are traced with my magic. Weapon prediction magic—that’s what I do. Well, what I call it, at least.” He drew his sword and held it out in front of him, pantomiming slow motion swings as he continued to speak.

“When I’m channeling essence while wielding a weapon, I’m able to see predictions of sorts. Different possibilities for what the weapon could do in the next immediate moments. I’ll see two, five… sometimes as many as a couple dozen possibilities at once depending on the situation. The best way I can describe how it looks is that the possibilities manifest as translucent shadows that move in real-time with the actual weapon. I’m able to decide how best to attack by taking advantage of what I see, taking the action that will yield the most favorable result.”

“That seems like an extremely useful—and powerful—ability.” Troy remarked, his eyes slightly wide with a mixture of surprise and awe.

“It is. Makes me damn near impossible to defeat one on one because, if all else fails, I’ll be able to turn the fight into a test of stamina with a near-impenetrable defense. That’s part of the irony in being known as the ‘Unbreakable Wolf’, actually. The unbreakable aspect fits extremely well, but the vast majority of people who hear about me don’t realize just how well it fits.”

He shook his head and let out a small laugh. “I think Gabe did that on purpose when he came up with the name, honestly. He was one of the few who knew how my magic worked.”

Gargarel let out a loud cheer, startling the others—particularly Jonas who had been quietly reviewing some paperwork over at the desk. After looking up with a jolt of surprise, Jonas turned his attention back to his work.

“That’s awesome!” The grinning Gmaas bellowed. “I knew it was a good idea to come join someone strong like you.”

Geren just looked at Gargarel like he was crazy. Feros looked towards the kitchen; Lyght knew that he was needing to look away briefly to hide a smile. The typically harsh-mannered Feroxi did have a soft side, and Gargarel’s enthusiasm was nearly contagious.

“That makes a lot of sense, actually…” Troy was rubbing his chin in thought. “But… it still doesn’t quite fill in the gaps with my request from yesterday. These predictions you see are for the weapon you’re wielding, you said. That doesn’t explain how you were...” He suddenly looked up, removing his hand from his chin and snapping his fingers.

Geren smiled mischievously. “Seems like you figured it out.”

Troy nodded. “When you trace your magic onto someone else’s weapon, you can see those same predictions. In that case, instead of—or rather, in addition to—seeing prediction shadows of your weapon, you see them for your foe’s weapon. This makes it incredibly difficult to land a strike on you since you’re able to simply dodge in a way that avoids all of the predictions… Does that about cover it?” He had a confident look on his face and seemed satisfied with his deductions as he asked the question.

“Sure does. Mostly, at least. Here.” Geren flipped another rune towards Troy like a coin. “You get one extra as a bonus.”

Troy caught it in the air with one hand as the other returned to its position on his chin. Something was clearly still gnawing at him. “So how… or when…”

His musings were interrupted as Lyght found himself laughing without meaning to. The rest of the group stared at him with puzzled looks, save for Feros who suddenly found himself interested in the kitchen again.

“Sorry. Whew. Sorry. I didn’t get to see the fight yesterday so I wasn’t sure how it went down. I imagined it was a pretty one-sided affair, but the image of you two flailing aimlessly at him and not knowing what he was doing just painted a really funny picture in my head.”

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Composing himself, Lyght turned to Geren. “So, how did you do it? Did you tell them to fight using the weapons on the racks?”

Geren just shrugged, but the smirk on his face belied the casual disposition he was attempting to convey.

“The weapons on the racks?” Troy asked. “He didn’t tell us to, but I did grab a bow and some arrows…” He trailed off, then shook his head and sighed. “Of course. He had traces on all of them. That’s why none of my arrows ever found purchase.”

“Smells like cheating to me!” Gargarel proclaimed disapprovingly. “He didn’t trace my axe though. Was he somehow using his cheater magic on that too?”

This guy’s tone just changed entirely in the span of a few sentences. Going from praising Geren’s strength to accusing him of cheating. He really doesn’t like losing, huh?

“Are you sure about that?” Feros asked. “For the nice guy persona that he puts on for others, Geren is tricky. I’ve held the opinion for some time now that ‘Sly Old Fox’ would be a more fitting moniker for him.”

“It was when Gargarel laid his axe on the table…” Troy said thoughtfully. “You ran your fingers along it when examining it. A perfectly normal thing to do in that situation that nobody else would take notice of. But, it was all you needed.”

Geren held his hands up as if to indicate that he’d been caught. “Yep. Well, lesson learned for you two, right? That brief moment was all it took for me to gain an untenable advantage over Gargarel in the coming battle.”

The pair nodded. The looks on each of their faces were starkly different. Troy’s face was one of understanding, seemingly happy to have had the previous day’s mystery solved and learn a valuable lesson in the process. Gargarel’s face, however, held a humorous mixture of visible confusion and betrayal. He seemed to have trouble processing the fact that a simple trick could overpower raw strength in such a manner.

Geren continued. “That’s also why I had to take quick action against you, Troy, and knock you out there at the end. I hadn’t traced your rapier, so I didn’t have any magical advantage over you when you wielded it, like with the arrows from the bow or Gargarel’s axe. The rapier not being traced combined with Gargarel’s magic speeding you up—you legitimately caught me off guard with a great offensive tactic. I reacted in the quickest manner I was able in order to defend myself.”

Troy’s eyes lit up with surprise. “That’s… thank you. That is very kind of you to say. I was disappointed when I awoke to find myself having been knocked unconscious. It’s comforting knowing that I did a better job than I had initially believed.”

Geren eyed the blonde rookie. “That’s one thing we’re gonna work on—your confidence. I can tell you’re a proud individual on the inside, but because of that, you get down on yourself too easily when you make mistakes. Just like last night at dinner when we were talking about your aptitude with magic. Overcoming mistakes is not only part of life, but a big part of being a mercenary. You won’t always have time to wallow and be disappointed in yourself; you have to be able to move on to your next objective.”

“Yes... Of course.” Troy said slowly before giving a quick nod.

“So, with that out of the way,” Geren began, “let’s discuss the magic in the runes. My magic isn’t as simple when it comes to rune-tracing as some others, such as spells that detect nearby life or expel heat when they’re activated. Since the root ability is to predict the movements of a weapon, there has to be something to actually use the spell on. Once you channel your essence through the rune to activate and release the magic within, you’ll be able to funnel that magic through a weapon by touching it. Use it wisely—whether it’s on your own or an enemy’s. I traced enough essence into each one for roughly one minute of use.”

Troy looked to Feros and Lyght. “Are the two of you familiar with having used this ability before?”

“On occasion, yeah,” Lyght said with a shrug, “but typically only for big or dangerous jobs. It’ll be weird the first time you use it. Jarring—kind of like information overload. After that initial adjustment though, you get the hang of it.”

“You must have been serious with those words of warning earlier at breakfast.” Feros remarked to Geren. “I know these aren’t easy to make. You left out the part of your explanation that, because of how powerful your magic is, it’s much more exhausting to trace into runes than lesser abilities like the other examples you gave.”

Geren gave a similar hands-up gesture as he had done earlier. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about that, though. I’ve had plenty of free time recently.”

His face turned more serious as he continued. “Truthfully, I doubt you’ll need to use them at all for this job. It’s more of just… insurance, let’s say. Insurance to help you guys out in the event anything unforeseen happens during travel or otherwise that you aren’t prepared for. Especially for the two rooks, in case they get a little overzealous and get in over their heads on the first job or anything.”

"You worry too much." Lyght said. "Thanks, though."

Feros and the rookies nodded in agreement. Each of them stored the gifts away in the pouches at their waists.

"Let's get going, then." Lyght continued. "We're still on pace to get there before it's too late in the evening if we leave now. The details on the contract said that the bandits have been coming to the farm fairly consistently each week. It was five days ago that they last visited. Assuming they don’t pay a visit today before we arrive, we’re sure to be there when they next do. Getting there tonight will make sure we’re rested and ready for when that happens.”

The group said their farewells to Geren and Jonas and left the mercenary hall, departing from Davied via the southern gate. They would have to make the journey on foot, as most everybody did in Venterias. Horses were a rare commodity typically reserved for noble families, military use, and the richest merchants. Lyght and Feros were more than used to it, but Lyght wasn’t sure about Gargarel or Troy and what they were accustomed to in their past travels.

Gargarel took it quite literally in stride, stating that walking was “good for the build”, but Troy in particular was surprised that the Last Stand Mercenaries did not own horses of their own. He seemed to believe that they should be a purchase of the utmost importance for the company in the near future. Lyght didn’t understand his reasoning; it seemed like the extra hassle would be more work than it was worth, especially for the more dangerous jobs where the horses’ safety would need to be taken into account. He dismissed Troy’s arguments as little more than the complaints of one who seemingly came from a privileged background.

The farm was located to the south-east, across the Faldo River that cut through most of Freleria. It was a bit later in the evening when the group arrived than Lyght had planned; he would half-jokingly blame that on Geren for delaying their departure. There was still enough light to allow them to see the farm from further down the road. It came into view with the last remaining illumination of the day’s sun peeking over the western horizon.

Following the path, the group passed by a large barn that Lyght suspected was used purely for storage purposes since there were no sounds or smells of animals emanating from it. There were a few small plots of land that flanked the path up to the farmhouse, each one housing a different type of crop. Judging by the size of the farm, it was obvious it was a simple family-run operation and not one of the wealthy multi-hundred acre farms like what were commonly found in Trausen and Garreghais, though it was still at least a few dozen acres in size.

The terrain in this part of Freleria wouldn’t be described as arboreal, but it still contained a fair amount of trees that dotted the landscape so that it was not plain flatland in all directions. Still, the landscape was sparse enough of obstructions that Lyght could make out the farmhouse up ahead. It was a simple wood-and-stone home befitting the humble farm. A small fenced-in area with a chicken coop could be seen to the right with the sounds of clucking chickens growing louder as the group approached. To the left was an area that looked to be used for cutting wood. A large stump with a hatchet embedded in its top was accompanied by a nearby shed presumably used to keep the chopped wood dry from rain.

Lyght wondered what it would be like to grow up in a home like this. Largely cut off from the outside world other than the occasional trips to larger cities for business, doing one job from birth and sticking to that one job forever, seeing the same exact scenery day after day… it sounded both relaxing and terribly boring at the same time.

Approaching the farmhouse, he motioned to the others to stay where they were while he went up to knock on the front door. He did so, only needing to wait a few moments before he heard footsteps drumming on what sounded like a wooden floor as someone ran to the door. It creaked open, revealing a young boy.

The boy, Lyght assumed he was likely between his and Tobi’s ages based on the eyes, peered around the corner of the barely-open door. The three prongs of a pitchfork poked out through the opening as well, pointed at Lyght. It was as if the door were one gigantic shield the boy held in his left hand with the pitchfork acting as a spear in his right, daring Lyght to try and break his defenses to enter the home.

“You one uh them bandits?” The boy asked in a low grumble.

Lyght took a deep breath as he did his best to resist the urge to laugh at the sight. He decided it would be best to not tease the boy too much. The family had obviously been dealing with some difficult times recently and making light of the situation regarding the bandits didn’t seem like the best course of action. Still, some simple sarcasm wouldn’t hurt anybody.

“If I was, do you think I would give you an honest ‘yes’ answer?” He asked, replying to the question with a question of his own.

“If you was a honest bandit, you might.”

“There’s no such thing as an honest bandit, kid.”

“They could be honest ‘bout bein’ bad. Some of ‘em take pride in that sorta thing. An’ don’t you go callin’ me ‘kid’. You ain’t that much older‘n me.” The boy gave a slight jabbing motion with the pitchfork as he said the last sentence, his thick accent causing many of his words to run together as though some letters simply didn’t exist.

It was growing increasingly difficult to abstain from laughing, so Lyght decided to just cut to the chase. The longer this back-and-forth continued, the more likely he was to crack. He smiled and reached into his pocket, noticing the boy tense a bit as he did so. Withdrawing his hand, he held the paper that contained the details of the contract the Last Stand Mercenaries had accepted for this job.

Lyght held the paper up out in front of him. “You can loosen your grip on that pitchfork. Here, proof of who we are and why we’re here.” He nodded back towards the other three that were standing a dozen or so feet back on the road. “We’re from the mercenary company your farm hired to get rid of the bandits that have been plaguing you. Your parents or anyone else here? I imagine they were the ones who put the request in.”

The boy lowered the pitchfork and opened the door a bit wider, squinting. Now more visible with his head poking further out through the opening, Lyght could see he had curly black hair that was a bit of a mess. “Well, uh… ya see.. I cain’t akshully read. Ma cain’t neither. But, I do know a travelin’ curry or whatever they’s called stopped by the other day, then went into the big city, takin’ a message from Ma. Ma told me that meant someone’d be comin’ to help us with the bandits. Uh… Lemme go fetch Ma.”

He withdrew the pitchfork back into the house and quickly shut the door. Lyght could hear the sound of his steps scampering away. A couple minutes passed before he heard footsteps again approach the door, this time at a more measured pace.

Either that kid calmed down or “Ma” is about to open the door.

It was indeed the boy’s mother who appeared this time. She actually opened the door fully instead of cracking it open to peer through like he had done. She was a shorter woman with a slender frame, surprising of one who presumably had spent her life working on a farm, the lines etched on her face suggesting she was probably in her mid-to-late 30s. Her black hair was tied back in a messy bun, and she wore a dingy white-gray smock.

Smiling, she gave a slight bow of the head and stepped to the side, revealing a slightly run-down but cozy home within that was lit with candles as the last waning bits of sunlight were no longer enough to properly illuminate the interior of the home.

“Welcome! Thank ya’ll so much for arriving as quickly as ya did. You can come in and make ya’ll’s selves at home. Space is just a bit tight since we ain’t used to havin’ so many visitors, but there should still be plenty seats.” Her accent was not quite as rough as her son’s, but one could tell that they were cut from the same cloth.

Lyght gave a quick nod of his head to the rest of the group. They headed into the home, finding the primary living area to be mostly devoid of seating options save for a couple of wooden chairs. Further back past the living area was what appeared to be the kitchen. A wooden table with eight matching chairs stood here, with a cooking pot over a fire set into a stone fireplace, a storage pantry, and some empty counter space nearby.

“Terribly sorry if m’boy caused ya’ll any grief at the door. I told him ya’ll was comin’ but he just don’t listen sometimes. I’m sorry I was… busy, otherwise I’da answered the door m’self. Ya’ll can call me Marzie, by the way.”

“Busy? You was on the crapper, Ma! No need t’apologize for that!” the boy called from the seat he had taken at the table.

“Donny! Nunna that!” She exclaimed, flushing with embarrassment.

“Aw, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” Gargarel shouted with a hearty laugh. “Trust me, I get it. When nature calls, you can’t leave her hanging! Speaking of, where might I answer that call myself?”

Despite Gargarel’s good intentions, Marzie grew even more red. Composing herself, she pointed to the back of the house. “The back door’ll take you, well, out back. You’ll see the outhouse a short ways away to the right.”

Gargarel gave a quick smile and nod of understanding. There was a look of confusion on Troy’s face as Gargarel headed the indicated direction to take care of his business.

“Your… facilities are o-outdoors?” He stammered. “That… is much different than what I am used to.” He proceeded to the table in the kitchen area and sat down, staring down at the tabletop and mouthing wordlessly to himself.

There was a nervousness in Marzie’s eyes between watching Gargarel depart out the back door and stealing glances at Feros. Lyght gathered that she must not be used to having such… different guests in her humble home.

He decided to attempt to assuage the woman’s anxiety. “I know my friends look scary, but you can rest easy. You and Donny can let your guard down and trust them. We’re here to help, after all.”

Marzie’s demeanor appeared to shift slightly, with her posture loosening a bit and her face seeming to soften. She gave a nod of respect towards Feros. “I apologize. I know ya’ll’s here to help. We should be doin’ a better job making ya’ll feel welcome.”

Feros did his signature shrug. “Apology accepted, but just know it doesn’t bother me one way or the other. I’m not so weak as to be affected by how others perceive my presence.”

“Um… thank ya. Well, I was just t’bout cook dinner so ya’ll’re more’n welcome to join us of course.”

“Thank you, we’d be happy to.” Lyght replied.

Dinner was vegetable soup, which Lyght found quite fitting for a small farm like this to serve its guests. Marzie boiled carrots, beans, and potatoes in the pot inside the fireplace with some crushed tomatoes mixed in to give the water a thicker texture. It was not overly flavorful—Lyght surmised that Marzie must not utilize very many spices in her cooking. It made sense given the simple lifestyle of a farm family they seemed to live. Eating was more of a matter-of-fact thing they did to survive and less of an indulgence, unlike how many people in Davied—Geren, his crew, and the other patrons of the Dice & Sword included—indulged in more unique dishes for enjoyment.

Once everyone had finished eating, Lyght decided they needed to re-focus on the reason that they were there.

“So, Marzie. The contract details state that these bandits have been visiting your farm weekly for several weeks now on a fairly consistent schedule. If the dates you listed are correct, we should expect them to arrive either tomorrow or the next day.” Lyght said it as a statement, but intended it more as a question seeking confirmation.

“Yes, that’s right. They’ve showed up three times now. The first time I just figured was sorta random. Maybe they was travelin’ and happened to stop by or somethin’. The second visit was when I started t’get a little worried. Started thinkin’ that maybe they marked’ us as’n easy target or somethin’. So, when they came a third time… I decided that we needed help. You’re right about the timin’ of it. I was mighty glad ya’ll got here tonight, ‘cause I didn’t know if you’d arrive before their next visit or not.”

Lyght nodded. “You did good getting the message to Davied and putting a job request in with Geren when you did. When do they typically arrive? Is it a similar time of day each time?”

“No, unfortunately not. They’ve come by once right about lunchtime, once later in the evenin’, and once earlier in the day right as we was gettin’ ready to work in the fields.”

“Different times each visit?” Lyght asked, his perplexion audible.

“That’s definitely a bit of a problem…” Feros growled, getting up. “I’ll go ahead and go stand guard outside for tonight.”

“Good idea.” Lyght nodded in agreement. “Still, that’s strange. I imagine that they’re probably operating in a pretty wide berth in this general area then. So they’re purposefully coming here each week, but there’s enough other things going on beyond just their visits here that make the exact timing of it uncertain.”

“These ‘other things’ you mention being the possibility they are also accosting others nearby, yes?” Troy asked.

“Exactly.” Lyght replied. “They probably sweep the area as a whole each week but don’t necessarily do it on an exact schedule of stopping by each place in a certain order. Definitely confirms also that they aren’t roaming bandits, which we already heavily suspected of course, but confirmation is always good”

“So what’s the plan? We wait for the next visit then smash some bandit heads?” Gargarel asked with obvious excitement. He had taken a seat at the table as well just a bit prior, his business in the back finished.

“More or less. It’ll be about how we do that though.” Lyght turned his attention back to Marzie. “How many are there usually?”

Donny spoke up before Marzie could. “It was five of ‘em th’first two times. This last time they sent ten. I’ve a been keepin’ track.” There was a hard look in his eyes that caught Lyght off guard.

He and Marzie seem to be the only ones that live here... Kid’s young, but he has a good sense of justice. I know that look behind those eyes. He hates them for taking what he and his mother have worked so hard to gain… and rightfully so.

“Why so many?” Lyght shook his head in a mixture of disgust and confusion. “Especially when you haven’t been putting up any sort of fight.”

Marzie pursed her lips as she looked down at her empty bowl, tightly gripping it. “The first time, they just wanted money. Second time, I told ‘em that we couldn’t give ‘em any more money. So they took some’f our crop supply instead. I’m guessin’ that the third time, they had planned on takin’ crops specifically. There was more of ‘em, ‘n they all had bags like they was meanin’ to carry as much as they could.”

She looked up, tears in her eyes. “Please, we can’t afford to give’m any more. The money’n be replaced by us sellin’ what we grow, but them crops are how we both make a livin’ and how we eat. They can’t take any more from us.”

Lyght felt a tension in his chest at the sight. He met Marzie’s teary-eyed gaze head-on with a steeled resolve as he responded. “Yeah, you don’t have to worry. That’s why we’re here. We’re going to take care of them for you. You can trust the Last Stand Mercenaries—that I promise.”

Marzie and Donny retired to bed a short time later. Lyght developed the plan for the next day with Troy and Gargarel, the three of them still sitting around the table, then exited the home to meet with Feros standing guard outside and loop him in. The bandits had come to the farmhouse the first two visits before taking their plunder, but the third visit saw them head straight to the storage barn where surplus crops were kept.

Lyght and Troy would accompany Marzie while she worked in the fields on the south part of the farm near the storage barn, while Gargarel and Feros would stay with Donny up near the farmhouse while he chopped wood and tended to the chickens. The goal of the plan was to allow Marzie and Donny to perform the same daily duties around the farm that they normally would if the bandits didn’t exist, each with two bodyguards ready to dispatch any foes foolish enough to show their faces. The chosen groups meant that both rookies would have one of the two veterans accompanying them. It was a plan designed to check multiple boxes at once so all parties— civilians, rookies, and veterans— were comfortable and confident while covering both points of interest on the farm.

Geren often spoke about how work as a mercenary was so rewarding because he could help people and get paid for it. Specifically, he could help those that were not able to help themselves. Lyght had been raised with the man preaching that sentiment, and it had soaked into him like he was a sponge more than he realized. Seeing the helplessness and pleading in Marzie’s eyes earlier in the night, he understood exactly what Geren meant. She truly needed their assistance, and by The Architects, they would take care of her and Donny. They could be doing this job completely for free, and it would still be worth it in the end.

Lyght had promised Marzie that she could trust the Last Stand Mercenaries to take care of the bandits. He had silently made a more specific promise to himself at that same time.

Those bandits were going to die. Every last one of them.