1

The cold autumn wind threatened to blow away the children’s notes. It was not the best idea to continue the lesson in this weather, but the teacher wanted to enjoy the last days of warmth outside.

“Mrs. Baker!” a boy’s voice rang out in the woods.

“Yes, Teddic?” the teacher sighed.

“Is it true that beastfolk eat people?”

The lesson on numbers and fractions was interrupted by a dozen curious eyes staring at the teacher.

“Well, Teddic, firstly, that's a rude question to ask. Secondly, as far as we know, beastfolk don’t usually eat people… unless they’re very hungry!”

“Then why didn’t they eat Stout Stu?” Teddic asked.

“Because he was too big for their mouths!” another boy remarked.

The class erupted into laughter. The teacher joined them, but quickly regained her composure.

“Now, now, kids, settle down. Yes, I’ve also heard the rumors that Stu was raised by beastfolk. But his beer is good business for the village, so we should try not to tease him.”

She didn’t sound very convincing. The mood was lighter and the wind didn’t seem to bother the kids anymore. Before the teacher could continue, she heard footsteps—someone was coming from the village. A young man, who was Teddic’s older brother, appeared at the edge of the clearing and shouted:

“Mrs. Baker! Please, send the kids home!”

***

A two-story house was located on the far side of the village. Some years ago its exterior was glorious and stood out among the other basic village homes, but not anymore. The previous Earl, and many others before him, had run both the village and the house into the ground.

One of the two current occupants of this tired establishment was busy with hanging out the laundry. She moved slowly, but precisely, as she pinned the clothes to the line. The wind tousled her short orange hair, and the sun sparkled in her large orange eyes.

“Spying on a fair maid, young master?” she suddenly called out in a loud voice.

A teenage boy peeked his head over the dilapidated fence.

“No, I would never, m’am.”

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“No, I... I graduated last year.”

“Well, don’t just stand there then. Help a lady out, would you?”

“Sure, Miss Ever—”

“Flavia. Just Flavia.”

The boy hurried to the gate, though he could have easily entered the front lawn from any direction. He nervously straightened his brown hair and simple villager clothes.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“It’s Clark, m’am.”

“Nice to meet you, Clark.”

She handed him a basin with wet clothes, which he found to be much heavier than expected.

“There is something I would like to address. This wasn’t the first time you were spying on me, yes?”

The boy’s face turned red.

“No! I… it was… I would…”

“Shh, I don't blame you. You see a lot of other elves here, right? With Mistfall being half-a-day away from the Elven Empire’s border. But none of them are as beautiful as I am. Or maybe you would like to disagree, young master Clark?”

The boy tried to reply, but what came out of his mouth was unintelligible, making the maid have a hearty laugh.

“Say, you keep looking at my ears. They are longer than your average pointy ears, I know that. So…”

She looked the boy dead in the eyes with a conspiratorial smile.

“...do you want to touch them?”

The boy’s eyes widened.

“M—may I?!”

“Of course,” she said as she slowly started lowering her head toward the boy, “...not!”

“Ah!” the boy got startled as she grabbed the empty basin out of his hands.

“Ha-ha-ha! You made my day, Clark. And would you look at that, all of the laundry is where it's supposed to be!”

She placed her hand on the boy’s head and patted him.

“Now, I need to check on the Earl. Go home, young man. You did well today.”

2

A man sat behind his desk, buried in papers and ledgers. His eyes were baggy and he yawned frequently.

“In this battle between man and math, which side is winning?”

Egon looked up and saw Flavia holding a cup. A tempting aroma of coffee wafted from it, filling the room.

“Sigh, definitely not the ‘man’ one.”

He took the cup from her hands and sipped it.

“Delicious! And exactly what I needed to not fall asleep.”

He put the coffee aside and resumed his work.

“Have you found a better solution for the provisions problem?” she asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Nope. The one we discussed still stands as the only somewhat plausible solution.”

“Well, I guess it is what it is. But how do we bring this plan to life?”

“I’ll try to pull some strings in the Circle. Worst case, we’ll have to travel to a place I know you don’t want to return to.”

She twisted her mouth in displeasure. He continued:

“I’m doing all this research to avoid it. Look, I know you wouldn’t like it, but I can go on my own—”

“Out of the question,” Flavia cut him off resolutely. “I go where you go.”

He rubbed his forehead slowly. After a pause, the maid asked:

“You look exhausted. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Honestly, you’re already doing enough.”

“Honestly, it’s you who have already done enough. You’ve been at this for half a month now. Get some rest. For my sake.”

“Yes, I get it, but what if there’s another way—What are you doing…”

She pushed the cup and ledgers aside, making some room on the table in front of the man. She sat on the table in front of him and patted her knees.

“You’re so steadfast,” he rested his head on her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair and began massaging his scalp with her nails.

“You know, Flavia, if heaven isn’t like this, I don’t want to go there. Tell me, what’s for lunch—”

A frantic voice interrupted them from outside the window.

“Earl Numis! Earl Numis!”

Egon and Flavia cautiously looked at each other.

***

Egon and Flavia put on their coats and quickly left the building. A frail old man with gray hair and dark brown eyes was waiting for them at the gate. He was Friedrich Mildwater, the steward. He had a very concerned look on his face.

“Mr. Mildwater! What brings you to my humble abode?” Egon asked.

“No time for pleasantries, Earl Numis. We must make haste,” Friedrich said, starting to walk.

“I… understand. Lead the way then,” Egon said, easily keeping up with the older man's pace.

“There is,” Friedrich was breathing heavily, “a… situation.”

“Let me guess, it’s the wolves from Frostbite Woods again?”

“Ah! Almost. One might even say ‘close enough.’”

“Eh?” Egon was puzzled.

“We’re almost there. See for yourself.”

The three of them turned a corner and saw a large gathering of villagers, mostly men and mostly armed with farm tools.

“This way, through the crowd!” the steward shouted, trying to be louder than the mob.

The Earl made a step after the steward, when he felt a strong grip of his maid’s palm on his forearm, stopping him from moving forward. He looked back at her and their eyes met.

“Are you sure about this?” she muttered under her breath.

He turned his head towards the crowd, then back at the elf.

“I got this,” he confidently nodded.

Flavia released him from her death grip. After making his way through the crowd, which met him with a sigh of relief, Egon was caught off guard by a sight he did not expect to see today or any other day.

At first glance, this was a regular group of about four dozen villagers, though the choices of colors for their clothes were a bit too eccentric for the people of Mistfall. They were standing about halfway between the houses and the treeline of Frostbite Woods—a gigantic and ancient forest that brooded many legends involving dangerous mystical animals and lost children.

The second glance revealed that every person in the group was in varying states and combinations of wounded, bandaged, and charred. The one thing every adult and kid in this bunch had in common was signs of malnourishment. This was strange, because there was absolutely no news of any disasters that occurred in the nearby lands.

Looking even closer revealed the most crucial detail: the newcomers had animal ears, tails, and other animalistic traits. They were beastfolk. Egon took a few steps towards the newly arrived unwanted guests and addressed the people of Mistfall:

“Do not worry, fellow villagers! I will handle whatever this ordeal is. But first, please, lower your weapons. The last thing we need is an escalation of this potential conflict.”

He turned around and walked a dozen steps towards the distressed visitors and shouted:

“beastfolk! I would like to speak to your chieftain!”

He walked and stopped at the middle point between the two groups. A shuffle went through the furry crowd, as a dark, tall, and muscular figure made its way towards the meeting point. Egon’s facial expression quickly shifted from confidence to surprise to concern. A tall wolfman with medium-dark gray hair and pale brown eyes was walking towards him. He was clad in chain shirt armor, and an identical type of metamorphosis happened to his face.

“My name is Earl… Egon Numis. And who are you?” He spoke loudly, so that everyone could hear him. His opponent stopped about a dozen steps away and replied in an equivalently loud tone:

“I am Leader Luftar. My people are in search of refuge. Our home was… destroyed.”

“That I see. What hap—”

“We don’t like your type here! Go back where you came from!” the villagers started shouting.

“Please!” the Earl screamed back, to no avail. “My dear comrades, I assure you, we can handle this peacefully—”

“AWOOO!” Luftar howled at the top of his lungs. Everyone went quiet. The beastfolk Leader continued with conviction:

“Our village, Skullhorn, was destroyed by a fire. We made our way through the Frostbite Woods, but we cannot go any further. We urgently need food and shelter.”

“I’m sorry for what happened to you and your people,” Egon said, “but why are you here? I assume Skullhorn is in the Northlands. Why head southbound, when there’s plenty of land in the north?”

“The land is tainted there. Our Head Shaman,” Luftar pointed at a catwoman with snow-white hair, who looked terrifically anxious, “felt it. We had no other choice.”

“Ah, a Shaman. That explains how you got through this dreadful forest. And how long did it take you, anyway?”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?! There’s hardly any food there anymore! How desperate do you have to be to put your people through such an ordeal?..”

The two representatives stared at each other. Luftar’s armor and the fact that he was a head-length taller, made Egon—a tall human—seem like a teenager in comparison. The villagers were getting restless.

“Listen,” the human said slowly and quietly, “Leader… Luftar. I see you’ve suffered a lot. But, you know better than me, that these people are not going to let you stay here. The best I can do is—”

“Earl! Earl!” a low-pitched male voice cut him off. A short and bulky man pushed his way through the crowd and walked towards the negotiating pair. Egon recognized him. He glanced at Luftar, and then at the man, who was coming closer. He had an idea.

“What is it, Stu? We’re busy!” Egon said with feigned annoyance.

“Can you let the fluffy friends stay in the village?”

“No, Stu, they cannot stay in the village.”

“Why not?”

“They are…” Egon looked at the wolfman and winked, “…not welcome by the villagers. They certainly cannot stay inside the village, absolutely not.”

“But what if they stay in my brewery? It’s outside the village and there’s enough space in the storehouse for all of them!”

“I promise, master… Stu,” the wolfman caught wind of what was happening, “we won’t cause any trouble to you or the villagers.”

“Very well then,” the Earl clapped his hands, “Stu, please escort your guests to the brewery. If you need any help, address me directly.”

“Yay! Please, follow me, fluffy friends!” Stu said, waving his arms. Egon sighed in relief and looked at Luftar, who also relaxed a bit.

3

Egon took off his tie and crashed with a loud noise on a couch in the living room. The moon was confidently rising and the day had gone by in a blink of an eye. It took quite a bit of effort to convince the village folk that it would be alright to let the beastfolk stay in the brewery. He also made sure nobody would try to burn it any time soon.

He looked at Flavia, who was walking out of the kitchen with a bowl of soup in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. She was following him around all day and still hasn’t taken off her uniform.

“No snarky comments, my dear maid?” he wondered.

“No milord, for I concluded you had just about enough unpleasantries for today; besides, the ledgers are still waiting for you first thing in the morning,” she said with a satisfied smirk.

“Argh! Your ability to ruin the evening is unprecedented!”

“Why would you say that?” the elf pretended to be shocked and offended, as she handed the soup to Egon. “Besides, what ‘evening’? It is clear as day that it’s already nighttime.”

The man started loudly slurping the soup.

“Delicious, as always!” he complimented.

“Very loud, as always,” she remarked.

The two stared at each other for a moment and both burst into laughter. Flavia tried to open the wine bottle, but her hands were shaking too much from the giggles, which made them laugh even more. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“If that is the steward, I swear—” Egon jolted to the door and swung it open. There were two beastfolk on their doorstep.

***

The spacious living room felt cramped and tense. The human man sat in a chair by the fireplace, with his elf maid standing next to him. Across from them, two beastfolk occupied a couch: a gray-haired wolfman and an albino catwoman. The wolfman’s broad shoulders took up most of the couch’s width. He was about the same age as Egon and still wore the same chain shirt from earlier that day. The catwoman, who had an average height and a slender physique, sat on the very edge. She wore white shamanistic clothing with red accents, a traditional attire for beastfolk tribes. She also looked the youngest in the room, maybe in her mid-twenties.

The men locked eyes, the maid looked slightly bored, and the catwoman avoided any gaze. The only sounds one could hear were the night-bird songs and the crackles of the fireplace. The air was thick with unspoken words. The wolfman sighed and broke the silence:

“You see, I—”

The human raised his hand to stop him. He snapped his fingers and, for a brief moment, nothing happened.

Then, every surface of the room—the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the fireplace—was covered in magical writings. They were of every possible color and the dull room became as bright as day. The writings consisted of magic circles, runes in ancient languages, and symbols of stunning complexity. This lasted for only an instant, and then everything returned to normal.

Nobody seemed surprised by this display of magic, except for the catwoman, who was both awed and scared.

“Now the room is sealed,” Egon calmly noted, lowering his hand. “I don’t think anyone would eavesdrop, but I have to be vigilant. We all can speak freely now. Hm, it looks to me like your Shaman has never seen a sealing spell before.”

“No, I don’t think she has,” Luftar looked at the catwoman. “Onyeya is more of a healing type magic-user, and, I must admit, her accomplishments never fail to amaze me.”

“Self-taught?” Egon asked, resting his chin on his hand.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

“Her mother had The Gift and trained her. I owe both of them my life. She may be young, but she has earned her title,” the wolfman said proudly, putting his hand on hers, “Head Shaman.”

The catwoman blushed embarrassedly and looked fondly at the Leader.

“‘The Gift’? Interesting term,” Egon looked unimpressed. “I’ll ask the Scribes to record it.”

“Oh, so you are already in the Circle?”

“Yes. This is my second year.”

“Inner or Outer? No, wait, that’s a silly question. It must be the Outer, since you are here. My sincere congratulations to you.”

“Thanks. And your memory is still as sharp as your fangs…” Egon said suavely. “…Battle-Mage Luftar.”

The wolfman flinched at the title, but quickly recovered his composure. He continued with a forced smile:

“And I see our lovely Flavia is still with you! Never thought you would work part-time as a maid, ha-ha!”

The elf maid bowed with the least amount of effort she could.

“I never told you this,” he continued, “but I always found the way you two met remarkably curious and… ironic. To think, that the person, who came to—”

“Please,” Egon was getting aggravated. “Spare me the act. We are not buddies anymore, fresh out of the Collegium with bright eyes and big dreams. And speaking of Companions, where is yours? Where’s Bran?”

“Ah, Bran,” the wolfman’s face dropped, “you see, after we… went on our first assignment, we had a… disagreement…” he stopped.

“Really? What was it about? Do tell, the suspense is just killing me!”

“Don’t push your luck,” the Leader’s voice turned cold.

“Please, don’t hurt me, I’m so scared!” the human said mockingly. “But why stop now; let’s test your memory a bit more, shall we? Do you remember the Companion Contract that Bran signed with his blood? The man named Bran Midsomer, who raised you after your wolfy parents dumped your newborn body at his doorstep?”

“Yes, I do—”

“Or, perhaps, the Wizard’s Oath that you swore? Or the knowledge that the Collegium gave you? Or all the memories we made together as friends?”

“Yes, but—”

“And yet you barged off to the Northlands without saying a word, only to be declared missing in action a month later! Do you know how much time and energy Flavia and I spent looking for your sorry tail?!”

The elf put her hand on Egon’s shoulder, signaling him to slow down with the blame.

“I… I’m sorry for—”

“Not a single letter or note from you; your Companion is nowhere to be found; yet, here you are on this couch! We thought you were DEAD! But look at you, you were actually having the time of your life! You joined some random tribe of ‘your’ people who, may I remind you, effectively exiled you, and spent the last decade becoming their leader!”

“Leader!” the wolfman roared, his eyes glowing with rage.

“Tomato-tomahto! You could have saved hundreds, if not thousands of your precious little beastfolk!”

“By being a mindless two-faced pawn of the Sorcerer State?!” Luftar stood up from his seat and towered over his rival.

“By having actual power to make a lasting change in the world, not just neglectfully following your every dumb whim!” Egon stood up and pressed his forehead against the wolfman’s chin.

Onyeya rapidly shifted her scared gaze from one male to the other, while helplessly reaching out to them with her arms.

“Gentlemen,” Flavia announced with a clear and decisive voice. “Would you like some wine with your dinner?”

***

The kitchen was filled with the loud sound of two men eating pork ribs. They sat at the small table, meant for servants, facing each other. Onyeya sat between them, eating soup with a spoon in a neat manner. Flavia leaned against the furnace, admiring the view and commenting:

“It’s amazing how food can solve so many of life’s problems.”

“Mmm,” Luftar paused his munching for a moment, “these ribs are delicious! And why are you standing there? Come on, join us, I insist!” He pushed one of the stools toward the elf and gestured for her to sit at the table.

“Oof,” Egon exhaled, “do you see this, Onyeya?”

The catwoman looked up from her bowl and at the man.

“This is the true nature of your so-called Leader. He comes uninvited into my house, drinks all of my fine-ish wine, and even orders my maid around! The nerve of this guy!”

“I’m sorry, Earl Numis,” Onyeya apologized, “he’s not like this, at least not with the tribe…”

“No-no-no,” the master of the house asserted, “you don’t have to apologize, my dear snow-white Shaman. It’s this cheeky brute who needs to learn some manners to be a better fit for you, young lady.”

Flavia moved the stool next to Egon and sat down with a loud thump. She wrapped her arm around his neck and brought her face close to his, asking him in a joking manner:

“Flirting with other women in front of me, are we?”

Onyeya opened her mouth to, most likely, apologize again. But she was interrupted by a loud boisterous hiccup from the human's mouth.

“Ahh!” Flavia turned her face away in disgust.

“A-ha-ha!” Luftar burst out laughing.

“Hee-hee,” Onyeya cutely covered her face with her hand.

“Sorry-sorry,” Egon chuckled.

The atmosphere in the room became even lighter.

“Look, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal,” the man addressed the wolfman, “I might be tipsy, but hear me out. I can vouch for you in the Sorcerer State. I’m part of the Circle. We really need people with your, and her talents,” he pointed at the Shaman with his glass of wine.

“Hmm… I appreciate this, I do,” the wolfman replied, “but what’s the catch?”

“Helping out an old friend, whom I was reunited with—”

“Please,” Luftar said calmly and softly.

“Still smart, I see! The catch is that there’s a lot for me to gain and some for you to lose.”

“Mmhm, like the rest of our tribe?”

“Well... Let me be honest with you. You care about them, right?”

“Yes.”

Egon stopped eating and rested his chin on his hands and closed his eyes. The girls quietly made small talk, while Luftar enjoyed the wine. After a minute or so, the man spoke:

“They can most likely stay here until the winter. Don't worry about the locals, I have a way with words, as you are aware. If that doesn’t work, well, my Mind Manipulation is still one of the best in the Circle. But let’s face some facts. You can’t look after them forever. They survived without you until a decade ago and, even after you’re gone, they will continue to survive.”

“What about the winter?”

“…Pardon?”

“The winter that’s coming. It’s going to be the worst one in the last two decades. I know this from Onyeya and the other Shamans; you know this from your colleagues in Magiopolis. And there’s not enough food in the storages, with or without our tribe staying here.”

Egon squinted, then sighed.

“See, Luftar, I was appointed Earl of Mistfall and—”

“I know, you don’t want me stepping on your toes—”

“And that still doesn’t mean I would be able to stop a mob of very angry villagers, who catch you snooping around the food storage.”

“I... see. I’m sorry. This won't happen again.”

“Good. Let’s all get some rest,” the human said standing up from his stool, “We’ll talk more in the morning after the sun rises.”

“And after you both sober up,” Flavia added.

4

Onyeya snuck out of her room at the first crow of the roosters. She tiptoed past the study, where the two men were already standing by a table looking through ledgers. She peeked into the kitchen and saw Flavia in her maid clothes busy with making breakfast.

“Good morning!” the elf said without looking at the catwoman. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, the bed was cozy and smelled very good.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Could you help me with that bread over there?”

“Sure!” Onyeya walked to the counter and started slicing the bread.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m well rested, thank you—”

“No, no. You looked very troubled yesterday,” Flavia finally turned to Onyeya, “and I still see it in your eyes. How are you feeling?”

She hesitated for a short second, but then answered:

“Better. Leader Luftar has my full trust, and the Earl seems like a very wise and dependable person.”

“Meh,” Flavia shrugged, “he’s a bit of a baby once you get to know him better…”

Onyeya looked puzzled.

“...but when it comes to setting things right, he’s the best I’ve met. And I’ve met many, many people of all walks of life. He’ll help your tribe survive, I can guarantee you that. Besides—”

“RIDICULOUS!” Luftar’s voice echoed from the study through the entire house. He stormed into the kitchen and said agitatedly:

“Flavia! Do you know of this ludicrous plan?!”

“The one where the Elven Empire adds Mistfall to its map?” she replied calmly.

“And you… approve of it?! You, of all people! Have you not seen what the Empress is capable of! I… I cannot believe this!”

Flavia let out a long and dramatic sigh.

“Milord, please make your guest behave,” she said to Egon, who appeared right behind the wolfman.

“Look,” the human explained, “if there was any remotely better—”

“Nonsense!”

The wolfman gently grabbed the other man by the shoulders and softly shook him while saying:

“Please, Egon! What you are prescribing for these people is a fate worse than famine!”

“Stop with the drama,” the man replied irritably.

“My dear old friend! You can do better, I’m sure of it!”

Egon took a step back and freed himself.

“Mistfall is done for,” the Earl said grimly. “There is no food in the woods and fields nearby, and the rest of the Mankind Monarchy cannot spare any. Before you ask, yes, I already double- and triple-checked. The nearby counties are in similar situations. This winter, there will be a lot of gravedigging on this side of the border.”

“Well, just buy some grain from the Empire! Empty the treasury, if it comes to that!”

“Merchants from the Empire raised the prices with the first rumors of food shortages. Also, what treasury are you talking about? Did I waste my morning showing you the ledgers?”

“Argh! Just ask the State to share their resources!”

“That would be a direct intervention into a sovereign nation’s internal affairs and would violate a lot of treaties. Frankly, I don’t even want to know how many.”

“And yet here you are, working undercover, pretending to be an Earl!”

“Ah-ha! Wrong! I have a paper to prove I’m an actual Earl.”

“No way…”

“Yes way! Plus, my actions here fall squarely into the ‘indirect intervention’ category.”

“Oh, I hate these games!” Luftar slammed his fist on the table, almost knocking over some plates.

After catching Onyeya’s frightened look from under her brows and Flavia’s menacing hands-on-hips stare, he forced himself to calm down. The wolfman continued:

“But we all know that the State can do whatever they please. They effectively have a monopoly on magic-users. When was the last time any court magus was from the same country as the court itself, hm? Who in their right mind can oppose them?”

“The answer is simple,” Egon slapped him on the back, “you have the brain of a Battle-Mage, not a politician. Wait a minute. You’re a Leader now! Onyeya, darling, mind if I ask a question?”

“O-of course!” the Head Shaman nodded.

“Is he,” the human slapped the wolfman on the back again, “the one who deals with representatives of the other tribes?”

“Well, he did… in the very beginning,” she explained. “But the Elders and I soon took over because—”

“See?” Egon playfully captured Luftar in a neck lock. “And do I have to remind you how big the grudge of the Empire’s generals is after the Great War? Or how the idea of imminent overpopulation is spreading around the elven cities?”

“If you boys knock over any of the dishes I made, you’ll eat the food off the floor!” Flavia raised her voice.

The human released the wolfman. Luftar asked:

“So you’re telling me bloodshed is better than hunger?”

“That’s too philosophical,” the Earl parried. “The new Empress, last time the Circle checked, does not want any bloodshed. My best plan for now is to somehow make this look like a humanitarian thing. The Empire gets some new territory, Mistfall gets through the winter. Win-win in my book.”

“But what about the people? What if the next Empress—”

“This is not a war, so stop thinking strategically. We need to make sure they survive this one upcoming winter. What comes after—may it come. Besides, do you want me to lecture you on how to lead your tribe?”

“No…”

“Good. Now tell me about what happened to Skullhorn and what’s going on in the Northlands.”

***

“…I never took you for the conspiracy theorist type,” Egon told Luftar with a surprised tone. He was sitting in his chair in the living room, where everyone else joined him after breakfast.

“And I am not, I assure you,” the wolfman replied seriously. “But this is the only logical and practical explanation that I have. No one sneaked past the watch, no traps were set off, nothing.”

“To me, it sounds like you’re going out of your mind. Remember the practical lessons about fire magic in the Collegium? How much mana it took us to set fire to and completely burn through a single log? Now extrapolate that to a single house. Now to an entire village. That’s just ludicrous!”

“I was hoping you could provide an explanation, Circle Mage.”

The man spread his hands in defeat.

“Still,” Luftar continued, “if someone like me managed to believe that your shenanigans with the Elven Empire are the best course of action for these poor villagers, then you are more than capable of believing that I also did my due diligence.”

“Yes-yes… It’s just that—”

“What do you propose we do?” Flavia started to grow tired of the endless back-and-forth between the men and decided to hasten it.

“We go after the culprits; we can’t let them hurt any more beastfolk.”

“You mean you,” the maid corrected him, “You are looking for revenge, and you need our help for that. But wouldn’t it be… suboptimal to leave the village with your distressed compatriots for a minimum of four weeks—a roundtrip through Frostbite Woods?”

“We can make it in less than a day,” the beastfolk Leader said confidently.

“How?” Egon asked slowly, expecting something he would not enjoy.

Luftar took out a piece of paper with a simple hand-drawn map and laid it on the table in front of everybody.

“Less than a month ago,” he explained, “our scouts reported that they saw bright light in the main tower of Bloodstone Castle, which can only be one thing…”

“...a functioning teleportation beacon,” Egon finished the thought with an unhappy look on his face. “Now I’m certain of it. You have completely lost it. That place was vacated way too many moons ago. To this day it’s said to be crawling with heavens-know what sorts of abominations!”

“Surely, no challenge for a great Wizard like yourself?” Luftar said with an upbeat smile.

“Of course, you are right!” the man said mockingly, “I will simply use my boundless charisma and politely ask the zombie warriors to let us pass through Fate's End!”

“Fate’s End?” Onyeya asked cautiously.

“Fate’s End, Valor Meadow, or just Carnage Field. The last battle of the Great War. The place where my ancestors,” the elf explained, “whooped his,” she pointed at the human, “ancestors’ butts.”

“Or vice-versa,” Egon replied.

“Or vice-versa,” Flavia confirmed, “nobody really knows anymore.”

“And the Sorcerer State saw that as an opportunity to learn more about necromancy,” the wolfman continued with the tone of a lecturer. “So they built a castle nearby to use the remains of humans and elves for their experiments with life and death. But, as expected, all went to hell and they abandoned the place.”

“That’s… awful,” the catwoman said with a sad expression.

Everyone looked at the Circle Mage.

“If that was supposed to make me feel guilty, it was a weak attempt. Firstly, that happened at least three generations ago. Secondly, means to an end and all that. Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy the phenomenally well-written books on partial reincarnation, Battle-Mage!”

“Look,” Luftar sighed, “I am not taking this lightly. Let’s make a deal. If you help me find and defeat whoever did this to our people, I’m all yours. Slap a bow on my tail and deliver me to the Circle.”

“Sorry, but that’s still a hard no. We can’t leave now, right Flavia?”

“We’ll help you out,” Flavia said with a confident nod.

“Yes, exactly—What?! You… you can’t be serious…” Egon exclaimed.

“I’m dying for some action, milord. Laundry is great, but my daggers are getting rusty. And your legs are in desperate need of stretching.”

Egon was in disbelief. He looked at the catwoman, hoping to find an adequate ally in her.

“Please, Earl Numis!” she pleaded while putting her hand on his knee, “We really can’t do this without you!”

The man shook his head in incredulity.

“…Hope I won’t regret that,” he muttered under his breath.

5

The rest of the morning, noon, and evening was spent preparing for the expedition into the Northlands. Egon came up with a simple yet effective excuse to leave: he was going to the county seat to ask what to do with the beastfolk. Luftar didn’t think of anything better than to say that he would accompany the Earl to plead his case to those with power. Flavia was busy preparing rations, while Onyeya was healing the members of the tribe that needed it the most.

Their rendezvous point was a tall watchtower—a remnant of the Great War—which was about a half-hour walk away from Mistfall. During the conflict, it was used to monitor the movements of the elven armies, but nowadays it stood completely abandoned. It also doubled as a teleportation beacon. When both beastfolk approached it, the human and the elf were already there.

“You two look smashing!” Luftar complimented his old friends.

The Circle Mage was wearing his black mage-armor—it didn’t provide much protection from physical attacks, but the threads were made from a special plant material that was good at absorbing some magical spells of the offensive kind. His Companion was wearing her usual light studded armor with her iconic twin daggers on her belt. Everyone in the group of four was wearing a leather backpack.

“I can say the same about Onyeya. You look both graceful and formidable in those clothes,” Flavia smiled at the catwoman, who was wearing the same shamanistic outfit from yesterday.

“Oh, thank you very much,” she bowed deeply. She looked at the wolfman with noticeable admiration. “Leader Luftar gifted it to me on the day I became Head Shaman five years ago. I’ve had to have this outfit re-tailored several times, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything!”

“Wow, the terror of all Collegium ladies can be a caring gentleman, who would’ve thought,” the elf smirked.

Onyeya looked at Luftar with mild rebuke and a touch of jealousy. He averted his eyes.

“What about the staff?” Flavia continued. “Just by the way it looks, I would guess it’s quite ancient.”

“Ah, yes, it’s old indeed—my family had it for many generations,” the Head Shaman twirled her staff in her hands. “Mother gifted it to me when I came of age.”

“Aww,” Egon grinned. “You know, my dear fellow adventurers, it’s moments like this that make me think about the passage of time. The ever-changing world around us. How epochs come and go. The never-ending cycle of life and death relentlessly marches forward…”

“Where are you going with this?” Flavia tried to interject.

“…and yet, there are certain immovable milestones. Like the fact that the sun that’s setting now will surely rise tomorrow. Or that the Doomspire will still menacingly loom over the Northlands for centuries to come. Or that Luftar will be wearing the same chain shirt from ten years ago. Could you turn around for me?”

The wolfman obliged.

“Yep, that’s the same old shield,” the human nodded. “Please don’t tell me the sword is still the same—”

“Ha! Sure is!” the Battle-Mage pulled the sword from its sheath almost all the way out.

“When did you manage to become such a skinflint?” Flavia queried, raising one eyebrow. She looked at Egon. “Remember when we had to give him pep talks not to waste all his allowance on the first day?”

“You guys…” Luftar sighed. “Being a Leader taught me that material things are not the be-all and end-all of life. Responsibility changed me a lot.”

“Glad to hear that,” the human nodded. “But let’s start climbing the tower while there’s still a sliver of sunlight left. Bet no one has changed the torches inside lately.”

Everyone approached the entrance of the tower—a thick wooden door that was reinforced with metal. There was a big metal lock hanging on it.

“Do we have the key?” Onyeya asked.

Flavia took out a small piece of sheet metal from her pocket and inserted it into a tiny gap in the lock. She moved the sheet around for a couple of seconds; the lock fell to the ground. Egon gently nudged the catwoman in the arm with his elbow and whispered loudly:

“I have a dim inkling that the Eldarion Academy’s honor student didn’t learn that trick in her alma mater.”

The elf rolled her eyes and opened the door. Everyone unconsciously ducked when bats started pouring out from the dark insides of the tower.

***

“Do you need to take a rest?” Flavia asked Onyeya.

They had been climbing the spiral stairway inside the tower for about ten minutes. After they reached the midpoint, the catwoman became increasingly more agitated.

“I’m good, it’s just… let’s continue, please,” she replied, staring intently at her feet.

“Are you afraid of heights? Or of the crooked steps on these decrepit stairs?” the Circle Mage huffed and puffed. “Can’t blame you, they do threaten to fall down if you stand on them for too long.”

“Egon, you’re not helping,” his Companion sighed. “Oh, I know! Let’s change the subject and make this ascension less boring. Onyeya, do you know how teleportation beacons work?”

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t…”

“Please, no need to be sorry! We have with us a world-class expert on all things magic. Let’s ask him to share his encyclopedic knowledge on the subject. Would you do that for us, milord?”

“Phew. Take a wild guess what it does. It helps people with teleportation,” Egon said, running out of breath. “Look, I can either climb the stairs or talk. Hey, Battle-Mage, wait up. Let’s see what you can recall from the lectures in the Collegium on this topic.”

“Uhm, let’s see,” Luftar’s voice echoed through the building—he was already almost at the top. “A teleportation beacon is a tall structure used for teleportation. Atop a teleportation beacon, a teleportation-gemstone is placed. A teleportation-gemstone is said to be in working condition if its mana reserves are not empty.”

“What the—” Egon muttered.

“The teleportation-gemstones serve two purposes. The main purpose is to emit energy, which magic-users can perceive even in case of poor visibility due to poor weather conditions. After locating and concentrating on the emitted energy, the magic-user can proceed with teleporting to that teleportation beacon. The second purpose is to be used as a backup mana reserve, in case the magic-user doesn’t have enough mana to perform the teleportation,” the wolfman narrated it all in one breath.

Onyeya applauded with enthusiasm.

“What was that?! I swear, that’s a direct quote,” the human shouted. “Don’t tell me a Leader of a beastfolk tribe has enough free time to read some old textbook.”

“Nah; back at the Collegium, I was preparing for an exam and I learned that whole passage by heart. In fact, that’s the only thing I learned from the entire class. And you won’t believe it, but that’s exactly the question I got during the exam! Lucky me!”

“Bloody bastard…” Egon groaned and Flavia smirked.

“Ha-ha-ha!” Luftar’s laugh resonated through the walls. “Hey, we’ve reached the top!”

***

After everyone was standing on the platform at the top of the tower, they could finally catch their breath and admire the view. Unlike at the bottom, here they could still see a part of the sun’s disk.

Much could be observed from this vantage point: the endless fields from which all the grains had already been harvested in the east; the border crossing points between the Mankind Monarchy and the Elven Empire in the east and south; the dark and majestic Frostbite Woods in the north. Behind that ancient forest, they could barely see a glimmer of the teleportation beacon in the Bloodstone Castle—their destination.

While everyone was looking at things that were outside the platform, Onyeya was fascinated by what was in the middle of it. A gemstone taller than even Luftar was placed on a metal mount. It was semi-transparent and had a pale blue tint to it. It emitted a light that was barely perceptible by the naked eye, but a magic-user could easily spot it. The Head Shaman couldn’t look away from it. The Circle Mage started talking from behind, causing her to flinch a little:

“As expected, there’s barely any mana left inside. Oh well, I’ll use my own.”

“Nobody in the Sorcerer State has figured out how to refill it yet?” the Battle-Mage asked.

“Nope, but the Collegium quadrupled the reward for someone who does. Anyway, let’s get to it. I have no idea when was the last time either of you,” the human pointed at the two beastfolk, “were teleported anywhere, so here’s a safety briefing: hold on tight to me and pray we don’t hit any birds on the way.”

“That was… brief. Understood,” the wolfman nodded.

“B-birds?!” the catwoman looked surprised.

“Birds, insects, tree branches, all that kind of stuff,” Flavia explained. “Teleportation is basically flying extremely fast through the air.” She walked up to Egon and embraced him tightly, putting her arms behind his neck.

“Oh my, not in front of the kids,” he smiled deviously at her.

“Dummy,” the elf shook her head. “Come here, you two, and grab us from both sides.”

Onyeya and Luftar did what was asked of them. The Circle Mage closed his eyes for a second, opened them, and squinted at their destination. A sharp whiz sounded as Egon and the gang disappeared from the platform.