The rhythmic thrumming of the cold autumn rain began to die down to a soft patter as if the sky watched on in anticipation of their departure. Ben helped Ann pack two hide backpacks of supplies, as he wore most of his personal belongings and had no need for his own bag. The Keeper sorted through a large pantry cupboard of vegetables and cured meat —selecting only the most robust of foods for their journey. Ainsle and Kieran had discussed the journey earlier, and the consensus was that the trip to the temple, including a day’s stay in the village of Skalt, would take approximately five days, provided they encountered no obstacles.

The Apprentice Necromancer had left with June to help her retrieve her belongings from the embassy, and Issa had returned to the house shortly after their departure. The dark-skinned boy wore thick, oversized trousers and a coat, with tarnished leather boots and a cloak that seemed to have been fashioned from an old, threadbare, burlap sack. The boy had a comically large sheathed dagger strapped to his hip, which Ben thought looked more like a short sword when considering his slight frame.

“Our little Issa is such a handsome lad!” Ainsle commented after noticing Ben’s grin. A terrifying glare met his eyes a moment later. “Right, Benny boy?”

The young man cleared his throat. “Yeah, looking good, Issa,” Ben stuttered, and the Fisherman’s son squirmed bashfully.

After the pair had finished packing, Ann descended to the basement with her new winter dress and said she’d freshen up while they waited for the Casters to return. Ben sat with Ainsle and Issa at the small table while the woman hummed and oiled her ridiculous great mace with the same unknown cube of waxy substance that he had seen in Shalebeak village.

“Hey, Ainsle,” Ben began as he pointedly watched the woman maintain her weapon.

“Yeah, I suppose we have a bit of time now,” she said while reaching into the small pouch on her belt and handing Ben a small unused cube of wax and sharpening stone. “That’s my last one, but we can get some more in Bertie’s village. They make the real good shit in the north.”

Ben nodded in thanks as he accepted the wax and the rough disc. She gave Issa her used cube and instructed the pair on how to apply the oily substance to their weapons.

“The night after a fight, or once a week if you keep it out of the rain. But I think that sexy thing,” she indicated with a flick of her chin to the sleek halberd on Ben’s lap, “don’t need as much. I heard sky metal won’t rust even if you drop it in a lake for a ten-day. That’s why the stuff is so bloody expensive,” she muttered the latter.

Ben recalled Kieran’s lecture on the alloy’s properties and imagined that it must’ve been quite rare and difficult to obtain. “Who was the smith who forged this? I know I said it before, but it’s... beautiful.”

“Ah, no fucking clue. He was one of those artsy bastards from Hauluvia. I think him and his Apprentices closed up shop a bit after the Tear started getting bigger. Little Kieran said he did work for his Master a couple of times before, so Miss Sunshine wouldn’t accept anything less after hearing that.” Ainsle grinned and wiggled her brow, to which Ben chuckled.

“By the way, did you hear from Yolanda, the War Cleric Kieran mentioned yesterday? He said something about her coming to visit while we were, uh, taking a bath. I saw her fighting that night, and from what I gather, the Lance helped get us to safety.” Ben asked.

“Yeah, we went to pay them a visit this morning. Luckily, we caught the three of them as they were leaving.”

Ben frowned. “Three? Kieran said there were five of them. Did the others not make it?”

Ainsle sighed. “Poor bastards were the first to respond that night. Well, besides the boys at the gate, of course, but the cunts probably made minced meat of them before they knew what hit ‘em,” Ainsle paused and glanced at Issa. “That big girl, you know, the one Little Kieran is shagging?” Ben tilted his head yet nodded after a beat. Ainsle continued. “One of the girls the boy is shagging… Anyways, she did good. Stood like a brick wall in front of the orphanage before I got there. Sent a fair number of those slimy cunts back to the hells.”

Ben hoped he’d run into the Lance of War Clerics again someday. “I guess they went back to their stronghold?”

“Yeah. It’s not far from Skalt if you wanted to swing by after our business is done at the temple; it’s more or less on the way to the Capital from the north.”

“Probably, but I’d like to see how things pan out after this. I’d like to take some time off from all the fighting for a while.” Ben said.

Ainsle’s grin wavered, and her brow relaxed, almost slanted. “I know, Benny boy. Believe me, Ol’ Ain knows.”

The trio sat in a comfortable silence, caring for their weapons, while Ainsle hummed a cheerful tune. Footsteps on the steep staircase to the basement drew Ben’s attention to his Keeper, dressed in the garment he had gifted her.

Her hair had grown longer since their meeting in the Vale of Moons and was tied in a thick single braid that spilled over her shoulder. His eyes went wide as he drank in the sight of the blond woman. Ben had expected the thick fabric to soften her curves, yet the traveling dress only accentuated them further, as if tailored specifically for her. The soft fur peaked out of the long sleeves and the neckline, which led to a large hood that hung down her upper back, the grey tufts framing her jawline.

Ann seemed to notice the stare, and after a low whistle from the Berserker, her cheeks turned a deep shade of pink.

“Wow…” Ben found himself muttering aloud.

The door swung open, and the damp pair of Casters entered the warm living room.

“Forgive us for taking so long. Miss Mwalenu had more luggage than I had expected, so we had to acquire a steed for the journey,” Kieran said after a sigh.

The Magus’ daughter beamed, oblivious or uncaring of the handsome man’s frustration. Her constant energetic demeanor was infectious, and Ben smiled as he felt it a boon to the party. They faced a long, wet, dreary trek to the mountains, and he’d take any boost to morale that he could.

“A horse? That’s great news. It’ll make lugging around all of this much easier,” Ben gestured to the neatly placed backpacks against the bare wall and began to reach for the money pouch on his belt. “How much did it cost? I’ll split it with you.”

Kieran held up a hand. “No need. Husbandry was one of the first trades to decline after the expansion,”

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“There isn’t really anyone left in the city,” June interjected cheerfully, much to the bronze-skinned man’s building frustration.

“Yes,” he faced Ben again. “It’s a raised steed, so please don’t worry about overburdening it. We would still have to travel on foot, though.”

Ben thought it made sense to use a raised animal as opposed to a live horse that they’d have to feed and care for. “That’s even better, nice going.”

Kieran smiled at the praise and gestured to the luggage. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s get going,” he said with a tone that betrayed his enthusiasm. Ben felt the hum of excitement vibrate his core at the thought of pursuing a goal on his terms instead of reacting to the difficulties that had plagued him and his companions since waking up on the beach a few months ago. And a small satisfaction at choosing a path that hadn’t been preordained by some obscure prophecy or ‘fate’ as his Keeper had suggested.

Ben followed Kieran outside to find an ashen horse that appeared completely normal at first glance. However, The missing stomach and bloodless rib cage protruding from its flank were dead giveaways that the steed was indeed an undead thrall upon close inspection. Ben, Kieran, and Issa strapped their cargo to the animal. The Fisherman’s son was eager to help and prove himself useful, which only raised Ben's opinion of him.

The women exited the house, and Kieran bickered with June over the nature of the ward to use on the front door. The albino woman seemed to be intentionally teasing the oblivious Apprentice, who was stubbornly arguing the effectiveness of kinetic wards versus elemental ones. After Ainsle had interjected with a remark, suggesting that the two were having a lover’s quarrel, June relented her teasing and allowed Kieran to cast the ward.

Ben was grateful for the interruption, as the spat seemed to be without a foreseeable end. He also noticed that the albino woman didn’t seem as academically inclined as the Apprentice, as she had argued the use of force to ‘teach them a lesson’ as opposed to the Apprentice’s argument regarding the efficiency of mana expenditure and longevity of the casting. Ben wasn’t sure if she knew which buttons to push or if her approach to her craft differed from what he had expected. He shelved the thought for the time being.

The party made their way through the empty streets of the dying city. The clip-clop of hooves against the wet cobbled street echoed against the pink stone buildings that were either abandoned or so thoroughly boarded up that Ben couldn’t tell if there were still occupants in them. After roughly an hour’s walk, the group approached the main gate of Honeydew via the once-bustling market street. A lone CityGuard slumped on a bench under the grand archway and startled upright at their approach. He regarded their group, and Ben realized they might be mistaken for the wrong sort of people, given their weapons and obvious Casters among their number.

The grey-bearded Guard frowned and gripped his simple bardiche as he stood before relaxing at the sight of Ainsle.

“Ah, Miss O’Seighin,” he called out in relief and met the approaching party. “Jonno left this letter for you.” He handed the Berserker a neatly folded piece of parchment, which the old woman accepted with a nod.

Ainsle frowned after opening and scanning over the letter. She shook her head and patted the man on the shoulder. “Thanks, old boy. What about you? Gonna go to your Mum’s place soon?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the middle-aged man said deferentially. “I’ll be leaving on the morrow with the last of the lads.”

The old woman smiled. “That’s good. Take care of the old lady.”

After saying their goodbyes, Ainsle joined the waiting party, and the group left the city. Ben glanced back, past Kieran, June, and Ann toward the garishly pink walls of the port city, and turned to his mentor. The pair walked a few paces in front of the group, perhaps by instinct as they were the frontliners, he thought.

“Is everything all right with Jonno?” he asked a contemplative Ainsle.

“Pah,” she replied, and her familiar mocking grin returned. She spoke in a low rasp, too quiet for the others to hear. “Little Lily arrived in the city while we were out. Probably worried about her Dad, the girl came with a full detachment of those Yeltic fuckers, armed to the bloody teeth. He left with them to go to the Capital.”

Ben nodded and considered the Berserker for a beat before asking. “So… what’s wrong?”

Ainsle’s grin shifted to pursed lips as she seemed to mull over the question. “The old boy let me know that the other lads didn’t make it…” she trailed off before exhaling. “Fuck. You know, Benny boy, some people are born Leaders, and others are just pretenders.”

The young man remained silent at the display of emotion as the woman swore several times under her breath. She glanced at him with an expression he had only seen twice from the woman.

“I was the one,” she said and paused to clear her throat. “I was the one to suggest the lads settle here in this bloody city. Me and Willy even funded Ol’ Bertie’s store after the goblin incident. If the lad had been here when those cunts showed up…”

“You couldn’t have known,” Ben said to comfort her.

“I could’ve known,” she replied, her husky voice raised. “Of-bloody-course, the city was fucked from the moment the Invasion happened five years ago. Forget about being a piss away from that shit stain in the sky. No, don’t worry, said the Red Maiden. Go. Go raise your families there. It’ll be fine, you know?”

He felt her presence fluctuate and then suddenly become still and calm. Ben thought she was grieving the loss of her old companions in her way. The grief and self-blame couldn’t be mended by words alone. He decided to refrain from meager, half-hearted efforts at condolence as he couldn’t possibly understand their depth of camaraderie.

I’ll just be sure to be available for her if she needs me. Yeah, that feels like the right thing to do.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she silently met his gaze as they walked. The pair exchanged nods of understanding and continued with boots squelching in the mud—no more words needed to be spoken.

The party traveled mostly silently for hours from the city toward the mountains until they reached a wooded area. The darkening cloud-covered sky, surprisingly devoid of rain, suggested that nightfall was nigh. Kieran called out that there would be an abandoned cottage about half a bell’s walk from their position and that they could spend the night in a sheltered structure if they maintained their pace.

True to the Apprentice’s word, the party found the abandoned cottage in a clearing in the woods. It was dilapidated, as the roof had patches of missing shingles, and the stone walls were overgrown with creeping vines, yet the front door opened without much effort. Ben appreciated the idyllic scenery and thought he’d love to settle in a quaint, cozy cottage like the one he beheld in the seemingly isolated woods.

The group offloaded the undead beast’s burdens and settled into the dusty, spartan, surprisingly tidy single-room dwelling. Ben and Kieran left to collect firewood after most of the supplies were stored indoors, out of the rain that would undoubtedly fall that evening. Upon their return, he started a fire in the large hearth and helped Ann prepare dinner for the group. Ben was in the process of chopping a carrot for the stew his Keeper had suggested they make when Ainsle drew his attention with a smooching sound.

He raised his brows questioningly at the Berserker, who seemed focused on listening to something. She met his gaze and tilted her head toward the door, placing a finger on her lips to indicate he should be quiet. He retrieved his weapon from next to the fireplace and followed the similarly armed woman outside, and Ben felt a slight indiscernible weight on his presence. The pair stood silently under the dark canopy for a few heartbeats before the Berserker whistled.

“You cunts can come out,” she drawled in her raspy voice.

For a moment, nothing happened, and Ben began to think he was imagining the slight pressure on his being. The sounds of wet, crunching leaves and snapping twigs drew his attention to a figure approaching the cottage from roughly ten paces away. Ben saw a short, stocky man clad in dull, full-plate armor with a helmet that had vertical slits on its face. The stranger had two small crossbows hanging from either hip and held a short, tarnished poleaxe in one hand. His armor was dirty —streaks of muddy handprints suggested that the dirt had been intentionally smeared on the steel.

“Good evening,” the man spoke. His deep voice was made tinny through the grated steel helm. “Are you Benjamin?” he asked, tilting his head to the young man.

“Who wants to know?” Ben replied, his grip tightening on the haft of his exquisite halberd.

“I am but a simple courier. The package I need to retrieve is one —dead or alive— a man named Benjamin, who fits your description,” the unknown man spoke in an even tone. “Look, lad. Just come along, and things don’t have to get unpleasant.

Ben frowned and slowly settled into a fighting stance. “Who sent you?”

“Ah Fuck,” groaned Ainsle. “It’s no use, Benny boy. This one is a professional.”

Ben frowned and glanced at his mentor. She sighed and rolled her shoulders as the man remained silent and unmoving.

“Bounty Hunter,” she said after a pause. “They call him the Honey Badger.”