Having stocked up on some final supplies the trio went on to begin their journey. The first target was Dormata, the capital of the Doc Forrest region.

It was already evening, but rather than go back home to start the day fresh still stuck in Salcret they received some advice from Lena to do it like the occasional traders.

It appeared the folks who sometimes made the trip had a habit of making a first stop at Brunner’s farm. It was two hours out from Salcret and meant they could begin on the morrow with a head start, so they eventually agreed once Lena and the Captain had provided enough assurances that Brunner would not mind.

They wanted to get there before the sun set, since being outside in the dark and far from the protection of the Townguard field, which alerted Salcret to any approaching dangers, was asking for trouble.

Trouble they could deal with, mind you. These areas were relatively safe, it was not until a week outside Salcret that you really needed to hide your presence from the larger predators.

Not to mention they had the fifteen warrior wasps prepared to provide backup, with them hovering from resting spot to resting spot as they went along.

The trio all had a lot on their minds. Harold was thinking a realer druid would probably be letting the wasps hang on to his body, but he felt he needed more time with the Class before diving quite that deep. Oscar was trudging along steadily, considering the likely hardships ahead and Kalle was leading the way, eyes roaming, trying to take in every detail despite having explored these ways the summer before. There was a different feeling to the air this time.

The road was dirt and cut through a familiar forest of tall leafy trees, with smaller evergreens and some larger boulders interspersing the passing scene.

Eventually they spotted the signature apple trees, which were always a good sign of habitation, and knew they were getting close.

“About time,” Oscar opined.

“Hah, just you wait, tomorrow’s walk will be far longer, littlest brother.” Kalle said with a good-natured smile.

The words earned Kalle a fed up glare from Oscar, but then his face turned sly. “Sure, but we will get much further if we rest often.”

Harold heard the thought and gave his brother a dubious look, quickly followed by one from Kalle when he saw Harold did not get what Oscar meant either.

“Eh, I can explain it tomorrow.” These guys really did meet like yesterday. I’ll need to remember that.

Oscar was looking slightly tired so Kalle upped the pace for the final leg to get them resting quicker. Finally spotting the house by the side of the road, they walked between the risen earth mounds serving as a gate and stepped onto the empty yard.

From behind came a very large man’s roar, and the accompanying attacker with a red beard was already approaching fast, swinging two gleaming hatchets. The crazed man was sprinting and had a most dangerous look.

Oscar had moved with the sound and quickly ended up behind the older boys, but Harold stood stunned.

Kalle luckily kept his wand up his sleeve and managed to react and fire off a [Wailing Bolt] just in time. The man’s eyes went from crazed to surprised, and when the screaming ghost struck him in the face he dropped his hatchets and cradled his head with a moan.

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Oscar called out in a squeaky voice. “Brunner,” but he got no further.

“What in the bleeding hells, how much Spell Power, what did you hit me with you little shit!?”

Harold urgently took over. “We’re from Salcret, we mean no harm!” He was boosting his voice with all the meager authority it could muster, and was actually doing a decent job of it.

“I know that now bastard, that I can see you. I just could not be positive from afar and figured you could use a scare either way. Practically jogging up like that, completely unannounced.” The boys thought they could see tears in his eyes.

By now the wasps had shown up and Brunner gave them an aggressive glare before Harold sent them away again and Brunner figured out it was a Skill. What followed was a lesson in manners, and Kalle getting forced to explain the nature of his attack.

It had apparently stirred up some demons and Brunner needed a moment to himself next.

The boys got settled in the guest house in the meantime, until Brunner called them in for a late supper. A fire was crackling in the stone stove, with the food being classic Salcret fare, ground boar meat with herbs and spices, mixed together into balls to be fried, with wild lingonberries and sliced and grilled kohlrabies on the side.

And while Brunner was being a much improved host after getting over his earlier temper, it was the familiar foods that made the lads come out of their shells.

“You looked pretty handy with those axes, have you got a fighting Class then?” Asked Kalle.

“Hatchets,” Said Oscar under his breath, but only Harold heard him.

“Hatchets you mean, and not really. I’m a [Hatchet Arborist], but I’ve seen some combat, sure.” Brunner smiled like it was no biggie, but that was not enough to make them forget his reaction to the [Wailing Bolt].

Oscar was the one most full of questions. “But was that not a big risk you took, rushing us like that?”

Brunner looked a bit embarrassed but he spoke decisively. “No, not really. I’m high enough level not to have much to fear around these parts, especially not a couple of skinny lads,”

Brunner himself towered over the three, and he was hefty too, with as much meat on his arms as his legs. “Not to mention I’ve got a nature infused spirit, that provides me with solid protection against most Spells I’ve encountered. Although I’ll admit, empowering the mind isn’t among its strengths,”

Noted. Thought Harold.

“Is that from [Nature’s Resistance]?”

“No, in fact I’ve got [Nature’s Spirit],” The words visibly disappointed Harold, which only made Brunner’s smile wider. “Don’t worry kid, you’ll get there.”

“When is everyone gonna stop calling me a kid?” Harold had made sure to whisper the words, but it seemed Brunner caught them anyway because he guffawed and laughed uproariously.

“When you can grow a beard like mine, kid!” He clapped Harold on the back. “It beats being called a bastard.”

The words seemed out of place at first, but the large [Hatchet Arborist] softened them with a wink.