Rygic took a deep breath of fresh air as he emerged from the depths of the sewer. A defeated sigh escaped his lips as he scanned the darkening horizon, where only a faint trace of orange sunlight lingered. Time had slipped away while they were underground, and Rygic couldn't help but feel a tinge of despair. He had hoped they had spent only a few hours down in the sewer. Clearly, much more time had passed. Within moments, both Quart and Dreck emerged from the sewer, their faces bearing signs of exhaustion and frustration as well.

Rygic and Dreck carefully maneuvered the metal cover back into place, sealing the sewer entrance once again. The three companions stood there, their gazes fixed on the cover, lost in contemplation of Sulic and Trella's betrayal. Despite the disappointment and anger, Rygic found a flicker of relief in the fact that Sulic and Trella hadn't bothered to cover the entrance.

After what felt like a considerable amount of time lost in thought, Quart's frustration reached a boiling point. Gritting his teeth, he shook his tiny fist to the heavens and vowed, “Nolrey Drakes! Ugh! Payback will be hell!”

Rygic internally echoed Quart’s sediments. He also felt a mixture of anger and regret. “I am sorry. If I hadn’t antagonized Nolrey during testing, this would never have happened,” he apologized.

“He had it coming, Rygic,” asserted Dreck as he placed a hand on Rygic’s shoulder.

“That he did,” agreed Quart, who was clearly still angry.

Rygic sighed and straightened up his stance a bit. “You’re right… still, I can’t help but feel at least a little responsible.” Naturally, he wanted to pay them back for what they did, but he was afraid it would escalate into an outright fight.

“Come on, let's get back to the Rusty Cow and get cleaned up,” suggested Quart. “I had to practically swim in a few places.” He shuddered when he thought of the murky water they had to trudge through. Though he was relieved that he didn't have to reveal his secret of not knowing how to swim, he couldn't help but feel silly. Who ever heard of a water mage not knowing how to swim? Seeing now was as good of a time as any to tell his friends, he quickly and meekly remarked, “I don’t know how to swim.”

“We know,” smirked Dreck.

“We saw how you practically paddled on in some of the deeper spots,” added Rygic. He couldn’t help but grin. Quart’s random admission lightened the mood.

“Oh,” Quart responded with a smile that matched Rygic’s. He then suggested they head back to the inn and get cleaned up, a proposal to which Rygic and Dreck readily agreed.

As the three made their way back to the Rusty Cow, they noticed the people passing by were instinctively giving them a wide berth along with a few disturbed looks due to the lingering stench that emanated from their clothes. Yaz, who knew they had gone on their quest into the sewers, met them at the front of the Inn.

“I could smell you three a mile away,” she smirked. “Don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you through the front door to walk past everyone trying to enjoy their meals.” Directing them to the back door, she shooed them immediately to their baths. “I’ll return in a moment to gather your soiled gear.” She was tempted to burn their clothing, but quickly threw them into the wash. After bathing, they made their way down to their favorite table, which was the very table Rygic had sat at when he had his first meal at the Rusty Cow.

The three nursed their kewlales while waiting for their dinner. Rygic took in a deep and slowed breath as he quietly looked around the room. He and his friends were in a better mood now that they were clean and rested. Though they still felt anger over what happened, their minds were much clearer, and they began to hash out what to do next.

“Going to be even harder finding a tank and healer now,” Rygic remarked. “I’d wager they were all recruited today.”

“You never know, maybe we’ll get lucky,” chimed Quart who was trying his best to stay positive. He took a big gulp from his chilled mug, some of it spilling out the sides and onto his scraggly beard. He wiped it clean with his sleeve before continuing. “Other students may have run into bad groups as well. Surely, we can’t be the only ones who had things go wrong.”

“True, or maybe some were late to the sign-ups,” suggested Dreck.

Rygic nodded in agreement. “Both are valid points. Really, there is only one thing we can do… show up at the signup boards and see who’s still looking for a group.” He clunked his mug down onto the table with newfound determination.

Yaz, balancing a tray of the night's special, Stonefire Roast, overheard Rygic mentioning the signup boards. With a curious expression, she approached their table and asked, "What's this about meeting at the signup boards?" She deftly placed the warmed plates of savory aromas in front of them as she awaited their response.

Rygic briefly summarized how the party formed, their successful teamwork, and finally, the unexpected betrayal. Quart's shoulders slumped a bit. He still couldn’t help but feel foolish at how easily Trella had charmed him. Dreck offered a comforting pat on Quart's shoulders, empathizing with his friend.

Yaz tucked the empty tray under her arm and placed a hand on her hip. “Ah, so your group experienced their first ‘stealth looters’,” she remarked. “Shame it happened during your first quest. Uncommon, but still happens from time to time. Unfortunately, there isn’t much you can do other than spread the word. Without witnesses, it will be your word against theirs to what actually happened.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Rygic’s brow furrowed as he wrapped his fingers around the handle of his mug to take another sip of his drink. “Not to mention the constant paybacks could spiral out of control,” he muttered.

“That too,” agreed Yaz, understanding the potential consequences.

“So then, we just let them get away with it?” grumbled Quart, clearly frustrated with the idea.

“For now,” replied Yaz, her voice holding a hint of reassurance. “They’ll get what’s coming to them sometime in the future, I am sure.” Suddenly, her face lit up. “Y’know what? I’ll ask my niece, Megas, if she knows anyone that needs a group.”

“That would be great!” exclaimed Rygic who smiled for the first time that night. “Any help would be welcomed.”

“Speaking of great, this is amazing,” chimed Dreck with a mouthful of savory roast. The other two adamantly agreed. The food at the Rusty Cow was always excellent.

“I’ll make sure to tell Chef,” answered Yaz as she walked off to attend to other customers, including Troper Harbs who was carefully studying his plate of Stonefire Roast. The three friends overheard him telling Yaz that the Rusty Cow was now his favorite place to dine.

Rygic looked at the plate in front of him and took in the assortment of foods and flavors waiting to be tasted. Stonefire Roast was a classic dwarven dish. The recipe featured succulent roasted boar, seasoned with a blend of mountain herbs and spices, and slow-cooked in a stone oven to tender perfection. It was served with a side of root vegetables, each with a delectable caramel glaze. But what really caught his attention was the rich brown gravy cascading over the roast and vegetables like a velvety magical elixir. The hearty dish was the perfect antidote to their rough day.

Pushing his plate away after devouring his meal, Rygic took a long drink of his kewlale. Setting down his mug with a contented sigh, he asked, “Think Megas will know anyone?”

“She’s fairly popular at the academy. I’ve heard her name come up a few times,” commented Dreck who had also just finished his meal.

“Me too,” mumbled Quart, savoring a piece of deliciously crusty bread dipped into the remnants of gravy on his plate.

Rygic nodded along. Despite being the most introverted among them, even he couldn't help but overhear her name mentioned numerous times. If the rumors were true, she was one of the strongest students in their year, already level six, closing in on level seven. “Did either of you manage to level up today?”

“I just reached the fifth level the other day, it’ll be a while before I get to six,” replied Dreck.

“I am pretty close to six,” answered Quart. Among the three, he seemed to be progressing the fastest. Dreck often joked that it was due to Quart always playing with this bath water.

“I think I am on the cusp of level five,” remarked Rygic wistfully. He wished the spell, Status, would provide a clearer indication of his progress. The scroll that formed in his mind’s eye would only display one’s current level. Like everyone else, he relied on an inner sense, a feeling that guided them towards the next level. To keep his frustration at his slow pace in check, he reminded himself of Yunea’s warning of slow progress but great payout. He couldn’t wait till he could get his first true Aether spell.

Yaz glanced at the grandfather clock near the stairs leading to the second floor, noting the time. She called out, "Last call, Kitchen is closing up soon!"

Knowing they should rest early to prepare for the next day's endeavors, Rygic stated, “As soon as we finish our ales, we should probably go to bed so we can get an early start.” Quart and Dreck both nodded in agreement.

“Chin up, you three will finish the quest one way or another,” Yaz warmly smiled before walking away to ask Troper how his meal was tonight and to thank him. His weekly publications had made the Inn quite popular in recent weeks.

As they finished their ales, Rygic suddenly blurted, “What do you two think about the idea of me tanking while Quart heals, and we pick up two more damage dealers as a backup plan?” He had been going back and forth on the idea most of the night.

Dreck considered the proposal, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I think it’s doable so long as we take things slow. It did work for us earlier. I’d recommend picking up a small shield though. What do you think, Quart?”

Quart’s hand was cupped under his chin, his eyes narrowed as if he was deep in thought. “I agree, it is doable but of course, not ideal. My heals tend to be weaker than that of a Light Mage so our pacing may be slower. I suggest we stock up on more potions. Besides, we may get lucky. Megas might be free or at the very least know of a few people.

“True enough,” Rygic said as he took a final drink from his mug. He lightly tapped the table and leaned back in his chair before standing. “Well, I am off to bed. See you both in the morning.”

***

From his raised dais at the front of the grand, marbled room, Seiran gazed out at the Spirits gathered in the Grand Hall. “Greetings,” he began, waiting for the assembled Spirits to quiet down before continuing, “As most of you have probably heard, the Kosany are preparing for war.” Many in attendance nodded their heads while a few loudly voiced their anger toward the Kosany.

“We must warn our followers,” announced Turnia, the Spirit of Bardic music. She appeared as a tall, slender, dark-skinned human with feathered, golden-brown hair. Though considered one of the minor Spirits, she had many followers including the members of the popular band The Atlantean Thrashers.

“Warn them of what?” grunted Dowa, Spirit of Earth Magic. “We’ve been telling them the Kosany are gathering their forces for months and yet they do nothing.” A few nearby Spirits murmured their agreement.

Turnia, undaunted, repeated the need once more. “Then we continue to do so until they act!”

Yunea voiced her support, “Well said, Turnia.” She then addressed Seiran, “What have you seen Seiran? How big of a force are they marshaling?”

“First, do not fault those who follow you. The fault lies in their leaders, who are worried that taking action could jeopardize their unsteady truce with the Kosany. As to your question, Yunea, it encompasses a great many things.” He always kept an eye on those mortals who managed to sneak into Kosany lands. He paused for a moment to ensure everyone was focused on him. “Great numbers of Kosany continue to march north. Their ranks are swelling with Orcs, Canis, Shades, Turocs, and a great many Gerlins. Recently, I have seen Fellborn near the borders,” Seiran proclaimed. The room became deathly quiet. The Fellborn were those who were brought to Terra but switched their allegiance to Chaosia. They bore little resemblance to their former elven selves. Their complexion had paled, their skin turning almost translucent, while their eyes took on a piercing, blood-red hue. Most notable were their prominent canines. They typically did not get involved with border raids and minor skirmishes. Their sudden proximity to the borders carried only one ominous implication: War.