Passing out of the gatehouse the first thing that hits is the stench of decay and shit.

About a mile out from the town is Shitbrook, the issue of a city not having a functional sewer system is that all waste must go somewhere.

The stench is eye wateringly awful.

While my nose stings, my eyes as always are drawn to the criminals, dead hanging from gallows and serving as a stark reminder of what happens to those who break the law. Their bodies rot in the sun, the stench of decay mixing with shit to turn my stomach and make me want to vomit.

We pick up our pace until we are out in the open ground of fields of grass past the initial queues of carriages and caravans.

The lines of people carrying goods and people wanting to get in and out of the city stretch for at least a mile along the paved cobblestone road.

The road is straight, its path only punctures through the outskirts of the forest away from the danger and leads to the port town of Celios a peripheral of the city-state Athfen.

Further down that road leads to the farming villages. Five in total. The city, town and villages constituted the whole of Athfen’s influence.

We stand in the open fields that surround Athfen up ahead a few hundred metres away from the paved road and the city walls is the disgusting Shitbrook.

A small stream is bloated with heaps of human and animal faces, rotting meat and rubbish. A few male slaves of the bear type Beastskin lift barrels of waste from a run-down cart and dump the contents.

For all the grandeur of the city and its three stone walls and the castle on the hill, this is the proof of the sickening limitations of even the Leader of the convene and the Archmage’s shit all comes here.

This is the equality that chains all civilised animals no matter how powerful. At one point they would have been farming here at the inception of the city now centuries of war had reduced these plains to grass barren of life. Fit only for waste.

"Summon time, August unless you want to walk for hours to the Athven forest."

The mana forms in my hands swirling balls of blue of no shape as the mana fades to the wind the longer it goes without form the more mana I am drained.

"Gavilk horse," I say launching the mana a few metres ahead to the left. Giving room for the summon.

"Gavilk jaguar." Launching the second ball of mana ahead to the right.

The first ball of mana becomes a dense blue dome covering two metres in diameter.

When it eventually fades a tall horse with a coat as blue as the deep sea, its mane as white as snow. It can ride for miles and its skin is as hard as steel and soft as silk.

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It comes from a dimension of endless war, yet it is as docile as a sheep. A good mount worth its weight in gold. The fact it is one of the beginner mounts in the summoner class spells fills me with pride.

The second ball of mana does the same as the first but reveals a big cat while smaller than the horse shares the same characteristics. The blue coat and the shade of its eyes are purple. Long claws dig into the earth sharp enough to pierce stone like a sword through flesh.

The Gavilk jaguar has greater speed, agility and war prowess as it can fight on its own it doubles as both a mount and a war pet. It does however take experience and confidence to ride.

When I read of this summon in my first year producing it and training with one was my pet project that consumed my free time.

We climb onto our respective mounts and start to ride off to the forest. My hands trace the soft fur of the Jaguar as I keep a steady grip on its wide shoulders, I sit on its back my feet dangling by its belly as blast off to the forest big grins plastering our faces as we feel the wind against creeping into the open spaces of my robe.

I keep pace with Gareth who at full gallop is going far faster than any horse ever could strain to reach. A distance that would have taken us an hour to reach we cross in mere minutes as our mounts leap into the forest we slow them to a stop.

The dirt spraying up and flying past us with the impact of these large animals. We dismount landing softly onto the undergrowth.

"Dispel," I call out sending Gareth’s mount away. My mount slinks silently behind us as we venture inside the forest.

"I will leave the tracking to you, I will keep an eye on our surroundings," I say and he affirms in response.

A ball of mana forms in his right hand shining a brilliant blue. It expands and covers him in a blue dome before fading away.

"Keen senses it will speed up the tracking. It should last for about an hour before I need to cast it again." Gareth informs.

A basic augmentation class spell. He has a bigger mana pool than me he can cast four adept spells or forty basic spells before running dry.

Further, every mage has a recovery of a single adept spell every hour. So while our capacity in how many spells and the grade of spell differs vastly between individuals all recover their magic with relative uniformity.

Gareth speeds on ahead in a few bounds I push myself harder to keep up. The jaguar, I assume, slinks behind us despite being bright blue it hides surprisingly well.

We weave through pine trees with their tall trunk and roots beneath the soil the branches stretch out to the cloud and the vibrant green leaves offer shelter for those that wander below as they cover and absorb the sunlight.

We are quiet and we keep up a fast pace. A lone jackal spots us and runs away.

Gareth stops, looks around intently, sniffs the air and looks again.

"I have found their scent, come." Gareth picks up the pace both of us start forming mana in our hands and after a minute we see two rabbits.

I launch a hunting spell, binding roots, and firing it into the middle of the rabbits.

"Nice, August!" he fires two-mana bolts one after the other out of his index finger both hit and kill the rabbits.

Their bodies are unharmed the surge in mana stops the brain and heart killing them instantly.

We walk over and Gareth picks up the one dead rabbits and stuffs them inside his bag.

"Come here, Gavilk jaguar." My mount joins us rubbing against my side as I pick up the other rabbit.

I put the rabbit to its nose while rubbing the jaguar’s soft pelt.

"Hunt." Its pupils dilate as it hears the voice activation for its ability.

"You have the scent of your prey bring them back uneaten to me," I command using binding magic to allow for a more complex order a dim purple glow emitting from my eyes.

An hour for a jaguar on the hunt.

Well, that is my rent paying for itself.