A group of five with an unusual composition marched through the darkness of a moonless night, using only a feeble torch as their guide. Common sense would expect them to make camp and wait for first light to resume their travel, but the urgency and danger of their situation wouldn’t allow them to do so.

Escaping from Riverend had been easier than the golden trio expected; Dorothy had to leverage her contacts and a few favors to get them passage through one of the smaller gates, which took less than an hour. Unfortunately, getting far enough from the town and evading pursuit didn’t follow the trend.

Merely three hours after they started the journey towards the crossroads, a carriage, probably carrying angry blood-craving relatives of the victim, sped towards them. Thankfully, the noise was enough warning, allowing the group to escape into the wild with some lead. The angry pursuers gave chase, but without the speed advantage of the carriage, they couldn’t catch the unseen targets.

Later, when they felt the pursuers had long been lost, Iris managed to cast fire on a makeshift torch providing them some needed light. The possibility of being attacked by beasts in the dark was as dreadful as being caught, if not worse. After all, magic beasts wouldn’t hold the same visual disadvantages as them.

They couldn’t return to the road, so the only way was forward. Fortunately, the trio didn’t have much baggage and Dorothy had been smart enough to only bring the essentials, so they moved fairly fast, or at least as fast as they could through the wilderness.

The night passed quickly, but their journey was too stressful. They had to stick close to the road to avoid getting lost, but not too close or else they would be seen. And to make it all more difficult, once the sun came up they would lose the cover of night. Still, they persevered, and thankfully, another day passed without any incidents.

Exhausted, the group finally stopped to rest where they estimated, and really hopped, to be only half-day from the crossroads. Once they passed the landmark, unseen and unharassed, the group left the wild and entered the Mountainend road. Two days later, the town was finally within sight.

***

Anne watched Rick finish his last notes on his second skill, ‘evading’. The hunter was preparing to travel into the forest again to try mapping easier ways through the mountains. Even without measuring, and only by observing his arrival time and state, she could see an enormous improvement in his speed and resistance while running.

Now, the boy was only missing his new armor and weapon to embark on a new journey. Hopefully, the skills would help him move through the forest, and with the mapping book, he might finally find a ‘worthy’ passage.

The hunter made a signal, to which Anne responded with a nod, and left the bookstore. The bookmancer returned to her reading, wondering when the trio would be back. According to her estimations, they should be back any time now.

Anne was checking the contents of one of the few preserved books brought by Ceres. She had already given it a primary check, but the complete inspection had been waiting for her to finish more pressing tasks. The book was either a fiction tale or a historical record of the Oryn Kingdom southern duchy before the arrival of the Clows.

In the matter of history records, the bookmancer had always been especially careful. After all, the line between fantasy and historical facts could be blurry. So, she could only archive or suggest the book for reading after verifying its contents. To do so, Anne had to choose one of two methods. If the book was from a reliable author, she would only check the signature and be done with it. If not, she would have to use other reliable books to validate the contents.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Unfortunately, the book hadn’t been written by a bookmancer. The author was, supposedly, an amateur archivist working for a Lord of that region. A century ago, it wasn’t that rare for rulers to employ archivists to record the events of their region. Sadly, the practice had been lost in the last century.

The bookmancer was taking notes of events and pages of the books for later verification. Few events would actually get verified, and the book would probably end up in the semi-fiction section, but even so, it might be of help in future research. However, the sound of coming visitors interrupted her work.

“Miss Anne, we’re back.” Iris said as they entered the bookstore. Anne didn’t fail to notice their miserable state, nor the pair of new guests following after them. Cyrus looked particularly ashamed, giving the storeowner an impression that the trio had failed to complete her order or at least part of it.

“Come, come. Let’s sit and talk over some tea. You can also introduce those lovely ladies…” Anne welcomed them kindly while arranging a few more cups.

Before arriving, the group had agreed to keep the matter of the dead elf a secret. Still, the golden trio insisted on coming directly to the bookstore and asking if Anne had an idea about the dwarf and half-elf situation. Of course, they would only say that the two had decided to leave the city due to financial problems. Which wasn’t exactly a lie considering that the pair had less than five silver on them.

The tired and dirty trio only relaxed a little after drinking the soul tea, while Alanis was struggling to not burst into tears. Dorothy, on the other hand, was terribly curious and completely entrailed in tasting the drink. She could tell that it wasn’t a simple one, but she couldn’t put her finger around what made it different.

The dwarf was observing the famed bookstore owner carefully but with respect. She had never heard about this type of store, at least not as described by the trio. Her initial expectation was something between a magic emporium and a scroll store, but the tea and table arrangement, much like a tavern, threw her a little of a target.

Dorothy recognized Anne’s calculated and hidden observation, it was something she wouldn’t expect from such a young woman, but age could be deceivable. The ability to judge the situation quickly, and respond accordingly by first calming the guests and only then probing them on the matters had been masterfully done, revealing the woman’s professionalism. Her first impulse was threading carefully around Anne, but then the girl was being, as far as she could say, genuinely kind.

Anne also realized the other side’s analysis, but she only answered it with sincere smiles.

“Ma’am, would like to refresh yourself while we finish the tea? I know how harsh the roads can be in this area.” The bookmancer offered while smiling at the dwarf.

Dorothy was surprised and almost choke on the tea. She wondered if the girl wanted to talk with others alone, but guessed she could do it later anyway. The storeowner had hit on point with the invitation, the road had taken a fair share of composure and confidence from the middle-aged dwarf.

“Miss Anne, I wouldn’t trouble you…” The dwarf declined respectfully.

“It’s no trouble, and I insist… Come, let me show you a room where you can do some cleanup. Later you can repay the favor by giving me some hairdressing tips. I love your braid, by the way.” Anne insisted and then left accompanied by the hesitant dwarf.

The hairdressing comment earned a shy smile from Dorothy and eased her worries considerably. The pair passed by the storage room and hall before arriving at the room located between the bookmancer’s bedroom and the sealed room with the rift. Anne had placed a spare table and some chairs in the room, which was kept acceptably clean by Spring. Then, the bookmancer walked to her room and returned with a clean water bucket, some clean cloth, and some fashioning tools.

Anne ignored the dwarf’s refusal and insisted the woman should make good use of the cloth to improvise some clothes before closing the door and leaving. She then returned to the main room to chat with the others. Though she knew little about the dwarf’s story, she would never ignore another woman in dire need of a bath and clean clothes.

Somehow, Anne could feel that Dorothy would become much more than a customer.