- 62 -

Debuff Removed: Hungover: 100 exp.

Drew and Damien sat hunched over at a table in the Bloodstone garrison. Their heads were throbbing. The echos of the farewell party that the blacksmiths had thrown them the night before rang in their ears.

Damien’s trunk sat beside them with the two canvas bags on top. They ate a spartan breakfast of eggs, fried steak, and some kind of grain porridge that resembled oatmeal but tasted like papayas.

“Drew, I’m not sure what sent our farewell party to the bottom of the barrel last night but I’m exhausted.” Damien spoke slowly between bites of breakfast.

“Last thing I recollect we finished up your new armor and then Ireal opened up a bottle of Dwarven wine. Thank you by the way for removing my hangover, very handy spell. Don’t worry about my other debuff, Over tired won’t go away until you sleep.”

Damien paused to swallow a mouthful of food and drink some watered ale.

“I’ll catch some sleep once we buy a ride on a wagon train. I’ll feel right as rain tomorrow.” He said.

I guess there are limits to my Healer's Blessing blessing, we can't magically recover lost sleep.

“I don’t know much more than you.” Drew said as he tore into his second fried steak. “I do remember the armor. It’s amazing.”

[Skurr Greaves - Fine (Set of Two)] Greaves built for a Skurr. Increases strength by 1 point, increase charisma by 1 point, increased chance to reduce incoming slashing and piercing damage by 2 points.

[Skurr Circlet - Fine] Circlet built for a Skurr. Crafted from braided Drake leather in the Elvish style. Increases constitution by 1 point, increases Agility by 1 point, mana regeneration increased by 1%.

Quest Progress: Light Armor Mastery: Equip a full set of light armor. Complete - 1250 exp

New Quest: Light Armor Mastery: reach [Light Armor II].

“It’s rather nice, the wing motifs on the sides are rather intimidating. The whole set is based on the royal gryphon's armor-“ Damien winced. “When we arrive in Valoria you may want to invest in similar formal wear.”

“I also remember how she put me to work paying off my debt before skipping town.” Drew said.

I must have carved a hundred enchantments. My carving and enchanting skills went up a level each and my mana regeneration jumped up to .81/ second.

“What was the name of the bar she brought us to?” Drew asked. “Or did we visit two?”

“I’m uncertain, but we may have visited three. Yes, the third was called the Wayward Garnt, I think the second one was the Lords Listress?” Damien said.

The evening had spiraled into a raucous night. The Master Blacksmith and her apprentices had decided to send them off in a storm of merriment in true dwarvish style. Ale flowed like a river, songs were sung loudly and off key, laughter echoed through the city’s entertainment district until the early morning.

“Oh ho! There he is! Damien you scoundrel! By Ella’s gentle light, did you royally get out of hand last night!” A loud friendly man shouted from across the dining area.

“Am I seeing double?” Drew whispered to Damien as two identical men walked towards them with their own trays of breakfast.

“Not unless I am too. Aria’s golden rays, I’m seeing three of them. What did I drink last night?” Damien groaned and held his head.

“Well well well brother John, here is our fine friend. After a night like that, you sir are an honorary cousin. So says John, I do indeed. You look like you met a beast of a woman of your own at the bottom of that bottle!” The rightmost John said.

“Sir Damien, hope you feel better shortly. Our wagon train is loading up to leave this morning and there’s much for a handy John to do yet before we move along.” said John’s leftmost brother.

“Oh! That’s right, I purchased a seat on your wagon, haven’t I?” Damien asked. “You are heading to Valoria?”

“Yes indeed, among other places. My brother and I must be off, readying the wagons soon, and we’ve picked up a fourth cart, belonging to the merchant Thrain Battlebeard. He and his man will be joining us as we cross the wilderness.” The rightmost John replied. “Once you are done breaking your fast meet us outside the gate, we leave before lunch.”

The middle brother watched Drew silently as he used Mage Hand and a claw to eat with a fork and knife. Drew then dabbed his beak with a cloth napkin.

The man turned a skeptical eye to Damien.

“I still can’t figure out how you do the trick with the talking Skurr. Next time you perform I will solve the riddle I’m sure of it.” The middle John said.

Damien and Drew shared a momentary look of confusion then burst into laughter making their headaches worse but unable to stop.

The three identical men named John took their leave without waiting for the fit of laughter to simmer down.

-

“Brother, are you sure we want that enchanter on this trip?” John asked.

“He’s an odd one. And Ressians that get to be his age have surely made some hard choices to save their skin. I get a bad feeling about him and his bird.” John replied.

“He’s no stranger than us or our other customers. Plus he can get quite drunk.” John said. “And he paid well so he comes along.”

- 63 -

The sun glared with impending adventure as Drew and Damien trudged towards the gates of the garrison. Damien’s traveling trunk tip toed along behind them, its five mechanical limbs methodically piercing the ground as it gracefully crossed the rocky terrain.

The hazy light of midday lit up the walls around them, Drew could make out the scars of battles fought long ago on the garrisons walls.

The fortress is carved directly in to the cliffs on both sides of the valley. There’s maybe 100 meters between either side. I can see how this is a very defensible pinch point for any invading army.

They approached the main battlement and the gate house within. Their footsteps echoed in tandem with the residual beats of a dwarven wine- fueled celebration.

Drew imagined the sounds of siege engines, archers calling volleys, and men dying on the ground in droves.

The cliffs loomed, their ancient bloodstained stones carrying tales not just of wars but of carousing echoes that had clung to the fortress like the remnants of men’s faded dreams cut short.

Damien squinted against the morning light, rubbing his temples as if to banish the spirits of times past. "A dwarven farewell," He mumbled. "leaves no room for moderation."

As they approached the gatehouse, the scent of ale still clung to them like a second skin. Damien, his usually stoic demeanor now weathered, gazed at the ancient stone walls with a mix of awe and reluctant respect.

Towers flanked the gate, offering vantage points for archers, and the imposing portcullis hinted at the fortress's impenetrability. Signs of recent repairs and reinforcements—mingled with the ancient stones, a reminder that even in times of relative peace, vigilance prevailed.

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

"This garrison," he muttered. "has seen its share of hangovers. The wars, the farewells, the lives ended too soon—they live on in every stone."

He made a simple hand gesture towards the sky and dipped his head for a moment in reverence.

The guards at the gate checked Damien’s papers without a second look and waved them forwards.

The massive doors creaked open, revealing the valley beyond a short tunnel. The tunnel was completely enclosed and there were glowing mana stone torches every 5 meters. Drew, lost count of how many arrow slits, and murder holes they passed before they stepped out into the valley.

As they crossed the threshold, the garrison gates closed like heavy eyelids rejecting a new day.

“Why are they so well fortified here?” Drew asked as their sedate pace carried them out of earshot of the guards atop the massive fortifications.

“Oh, they are garrisoned here to fend off against any invasions from the Elves or Dwarves, but also they are here as a religious order.” Damien turned to point back at the two flags hung over the battlements.

One was the red and green flag of the nation of Ressellia beside it was a flag with the golden visage of a winged person on a white field.

“The soldiers here protect the holy priests of Ressellia. And they are here to ward off a demon incursion from ever returning.” Damien said. “There was a portal opened to the demon King’s lands during the last war. And it has not been closed. Only blocked with willpower and vigilance.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? Why wouldn’t they close it?” Drew asked.

“They don’t know how. It’s dark magic.” Damien said.

As they put the fortifications behind them, the sheer scale of the curtain wall became evident. It rose with the cliff, a barricade against any threat that dared venture through the valley. The cliffs themselves seemed to be an extension of the fortress, nature and architecture blending seamlessly.

Drew got a look at the colossal doors now that they were closed. Constructed of sturdy wood and adorned with iron reinforcements, they bore evidence of the immense abuse the garrison had faced during hard times.

Damien studied the structure for a moment longer, his face sagged into a mixture of admiration and wariness. "This garrison," he began, his voice low. "bears the scars of history. The demon king's shadow lingers here."

Drew cawed softly, his eyes darted from detail to detail: the occasional mark of a once-protruding boulder. Ivy and moss clung to the stones, nature's attempt to reclaim a place once ravaged by war.

This was my home here in Lisaria. It has shaped me in so little time. I will return one day.

“Well lets head to the Inn and procure a bath before we leave. I’m sure the other travelers do not want to smell us the whole way.” Damien grumbled.

Drew landed on the traveling chest as it followed the enchanter to the only building outside the walls. The inn was a simple one, a two story affair for people waiting to enter the gates or loiter until their carriage was ready.

Drew’s gaze continued past and to the scenic view of mountains sawing back and forth across the horizon. The forests would have fit in in any wilderness in the northern hemisphere of earth. Dark green forests stretched all the way to the horizon.

And we are heading out there? That’s some wild forest. There were large drakes near town. What beasts will be hunting the roads?

“Drew, watch the trunk, it may try to wander off.”

Damien paid for a bath and disappeared upstairs without another word.

Drew looked around at the people fiddling with their carts.

There were two camps of wagons a short walk away from the small inn. The inn was equipped with a corral of Garnts around back and a stable of you could call covered stalls stacked in a row a stable.

“Stay put Dumbo, I’ll be right back” Drew said to the trunk.

He flew around the Inn and noticed they had a small kitchen and a few barrels of ale. His inspection took him over to the water trough near the corral and he quickly bathed before returning to where the traveling trunk was waiting.

“Perfect, right where I left you.” Drew said as he settled down for a nap on one of their canvas sacks.

There were 2 covered coaches for people to ride along in. One heavily enchanted wagon, and a mundane storage wagon. They each followed the same basic build: they had 4 wheels banded with metal and sported metal suspensions. The carts themselves were twice as tall as the Johns they spoke with earlier. A man could crouch to crawl underneath there was so much clearance. A storage frame on the back could accommodate 4 trunks the size of their Traveling Trunk.

They are painted dark shades of green and brown to match the forests of the area.

That heavily enchanted one is the same kind of cart that Maurice had used, only larger and more elaborate.

Drew pulled out the Mana Lens and watched the enchantments surrounding the carts pulse and glow.

The wagons are enchanted to ward off monsters and there are a few arrays to charge mana crystals.

While he watched, the heavily enchanted cart reshaped itself like a Rubik's cube and a new set of compartments and drawers revealed themselves.

A broad shouldered half-ork man lifted a crate up with one arm and loaded it onto the enchanted wagon. His skin was ashen and gray, and his long hair tied up in a messy bun on the back of his head. When he turned to look at the finely dressed Dwarf at his knee Drew got a look at his pug-like face and protruding tusks.

Whoa, he’s got more of a dog with tusks face than than a pig, although he lacks dog ears so maybe that is what a boar looks like?

Who am I to judge, maybe he’s handsome by Ork standards.

“That’s the last of everything Krag, grill up something for a late breakfast, I’m famished.” The dwarf said with a friendly knock on the half-ork’s knee.

Krag grunted and pulled a crank on the cart, reconfiguring it into a new amalgamation of wardrobes, crates, and a section that folded out into a kitchenette and table.

“That’s a fine enchantment you have there.” Damien called out as he stepped out from the inn clean and fresh. He wore fresh traveling robes and his heavy coat.

He raised his hand in a friendly wave. “I envy your luck to travel in such fantastic luxury.”

“Well met stranger, I am Thrain Battlebeard, am I to guess that we are to be riding together to Crownsgate?”

Krag was frying some pale fish on the stove and set out a small pitcher of breakfast ale for his employer.

“We will be riding a more mundane wagon as far as Valoria unfortunately. Damien Hornbrush, retired enchanter, and adventurer it now seems. I would love to get a look at your spatial enchantments. Do you happen to have the schematics?”

“Would you care to join me for breakfast?” Thrain offered. “I am a merchant after I eat, until then I am merely a hungry dwarf.”

He laughed at his own joke and he had a hearty laugh that rumbled in his belly. He drank from his pitcher deeply and lifted it as an offer to share.

“Sadly, my appetite is faltering today, our departure was rather over celebrated last night and all I need now is a long rest.” Damien said.

“Tomorrow then. Well met Damien.”

“Sir Thornbrush,” a John said as he walked up. “Your wagon is this way.”

- Interlude -

Borealis popped into existence near the pergola in Rottervale and looked around for Drew.

“He should be around here somewhere. I wonder if he has ranked up yet…”

He floated down to the edge of the roof and watched the Skurr loitering about in the courtyard. They hopped about dragging bags of sand, some were even flying with the extra burden. The wisp floated there for a minute with an incredulous look on his face.

“Are they doing physical training?” Borealis asked. “Drew! Where are you at little one? Drew!”

Some Skurr scattered at his shout and left the area. The ones that remained glared at the wisp.

“He must have helped them level up. I don’t feel welcome here.” Borealis said to himself as he floated towards the adventurers guild.

“Whoa-ho! Is that a wisp or am I dunk?” A brewer shouted from his window. “Thats a sign of good luck, I think-hiccup! Better go out tonight, I may finally have that fateful encounter!”

Borealis zipped away easily. His momentum did not rely on mechanically flapping wings, but rather was powered by levitation, he could travel in any direction up, right, left, down, or back with a thought.

“I may not be the fastest wisp I can out pace a drunk.”

Borealis flew eastwards and circled the town. He passed bakeries, smithies, shops and tenant housing. Every so often he would see a group of Skurr and would call out for Drew. But he did not see him.

“Go away!” A sleek Skurr said, as Borealis hovered above the adventurers guild.

“Excuse me?”

“Not excused. Leave.” The Skurr said. “Not welcome here.”

Another two of the intimidating birds landed beside him.

“Leave. Upset guild master.” The second Skurr said. She clacked her beak menacingly to emphasize her point.

“Um actually, I’m a wisp we go where we please.” Borealis said and inflated himself to be twice the size of the Skurr. “I’m looking for a Skurr named Drew. You will lead me to him.”

“Banished.” The third Skurr said.

She was an older Skurr, with a purple tint to her feathers.

“He brought much attention, and risk, sent out of the valley.” Skysong said.

“And yet he taught you all to speak. Why banish the one driving your race’s rank up?” He asked. “It would be sensible for you to keep the source of racial upgrade points around.”

“Not one of us.” She said. “Once hatched he changed.”

A screen popped up and she chose the “no” option with a gesture of her head before Borealis could read it.

“Learned what was needed from him. We careful.” She said without sorrow. “Always calculated. Skurr survive.”

“Well if that’s the path you chose then where has Drew gone?” Borealis asked.

“I know not. Gone from valley.” She said. “Was his quest.”

“He could not have gone far on his own.” He said.

The conversation was taxing her and she coughed before answering.

“Close to people. Blacksmiths, children, fisherman, enchanter.” She said. “Not alone. Not long.”

The wisp looked around and listened to the mana in the air. There were faint strings of fate drifting around, resonating at their own tones. Some tying the Skurr to her flock. And one dark line, thick with potential, leading off to the south.

“Now go. Our feud. All on guard.” She said.

The adventurers guild had a new sign over the door, and a rough enchantment carved on the beams.

“Apparently Skurr are banned from the building.” Borealis said reading the enchantment.

She glared over her beak at the wisp.

Borealis took the hint a left without a word. He phased out of sight as he passed the smithy and could see the smith at her forge.

The smith was busy berating her apprentices, apparently their backlog of enchanted orders was piling up.

“Not with her then.” Borealis said.

Listening for strings of fate, he saw two dark threads stretching south from the smithy, far over the horizon.

He flew south to the river and could not find any fisherman.

“You can always recognize a fisherman by his gear and bucket of fish.” He said.

He looked around at a few of the eateries and ended up at the enchanters hut.

“This place is clearly abandoned. So Drew has left the valley going south with the old enchanter and fisherman with him?”

Borealis looked up to the noon day sun. The lines of fate thrummed around the city, mostly keeping within its high walls. He broadened his focus and 5 strings stretched out over the horizon to the same point far to the south.

“No way I’m heading out there on my own. Agusta would know where he is. She can send me right to him.”

With one last look at the enchanters hut he blinked away.