Anthony practiced swinging the sword a few times as he walked down the long mountain path toward the town. The blade felt good in his hand, but it would need oil and a thorough scrubbing to remove the rust.

He had held a sword on a few occasions, but only briefly and never in actual combat. The closest he had ever come to a fight was chasing off a goblin with a few arrows after it wandered too close to his family’s property.

The name of this place was Whitestone, named after the mountains surrounding it. As he arrived at the edge of the town, the first people he saw were farmers already hard at work, carting their goods toward the market to make their sales for the day. Anthony, however, was headed to the opposite side of town.

He knew where to find the mercenaries. They had arrived late last night, without time to start their first contract. They would likely be preparing to head into the mountains, probably at the inn. Anthony made his way to the west side of Whitestone, soon reaching his destination.

Pushing open the door to one of the only multi-story buildings in town, Anthony stepped into the inn's lobby. He immediately caught sight of Edgar. The older man must have just finished his breakfast; he was leaning back in his chair, stuffing a long pipe with some brown shredded tobacco.

The man was old but sharp. He had positioned himself to see both entrances of the building and glanced at Anthony as soon as he walked in.

Edgar wore a full set of dark leather armor. The leather was clean and smooth, almost shining even in the dimly lit interior of the inn. A longsword in its sheath rested on the table beside his empty plate.

Seated next to Edgar was a young woman, not much older than Anthony. She carried a pair of daggers at her waist and a shortbow over her back. Her apparent age was deceiving; the long ears partially hidden by her hood revealed she was not entirely as she seemed.

Their third companion wasn’t at the table, but the large shield leaning against the remaining chair suggested he was nearby. Anthony spotted the man with his hands propped against the bar counter a few meters away, a bright smile on his youthful face as he whispered something to the young woman behind the counter, who quickly covered her reddening cheeks and rushed away.

The tall young man clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he walked back toward his companions, sparing Anthony a casual glance as he crossed the room. Anthony took a deep breath to gather his courage and approached the table, stopping to stand across from Edgar as he rushed to begin speaking.

“Edgar. I turned sixt—”

A single finger rose into the air from the older man, cutting Anthony off mid-sentence. Edgar casually bit his pipe, giving it a few hard puffs as the hooded woman leaned toward him, placing the tip of her dagger inside the head of the pipe. The dagger’s tip glowed a deep red, and smoke began to curl from Edgar’s mouth as he exhaled, filling the room with the pungent smell of the tobacco flavoring.

“Thank you, Belle.”

Edgar leaned back in his chair once more, finally looking up at Anthony as a small grin tugged at the corner of his grizzled face. The finely trimmed hair on his chin was almost entirely gray.

“Edgar. I turned sixteen today. Won’t you keep your word and let me follow you?”

Edgar’s grin widened, exposing his off-white teeth as he glanced back down at his pipe, resting one hand across his full stomach. Clear signs of satisfaction showing on his face with each puff.

“Follow me? No. Wearing your grandfather’s armor doesn’t make you a fighter fit to join my team.”

Anthony’s eyes widened, clenching his hands as a desperate feeling began to well up in his chest.

“But—”

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He quickly suppressed his instinctive reaction, narrowing his eyes as he caught the meaning of the toothy grin staring back at him from Edgar’s face. The old man took another slow puff of his pipe, savoring Anthony’s reaction for a few more seconds before relenting.

“You’ll come with us back to Highwarden. Belle’s granddaughter just joined the troop—she needs a team. You’ll be under Elara, and you two will be responsible for recruiting any additional members you require.”

Anthony’s jaw and hands clenched tightly as he shut his eyes, managing only a swift nod in response as he quickly wiped his sleeve across his eyes. The agonizing period of inaction that had defined the last ten years of his life was finally over. Relief swept over him so strongly that he had to fight to keep his emotions in check and avoid making a bad impression on his new boss.

The hooded woman raised one slim, perfectly shaped eyebrow high as she observed Anthony’s response, speaking her thoughts aloud.

“What is this reaction? Why is the boy so overcome with emotion? You don’t pay that well, Edgar.”

The third member of the group was sitting with his chair flipped backward, his chin resting on his arms, which were crossed over the backrest as he looked up at Anthony with furrowed brows.

“Yeah, what gives? Elara needs strong companions she can count on, not crybabies she’ll have to—”

Edgar rapped his thick, heavily scarred knuckles against the sturdy wooden table. His grin tightened into a thin line, as his face fell into a solemn expression. The shield-bearer immediately clamped his mouth shut, sitting up straight in his chair as he caught the look on Edgar’s face.

“Garren…”

Garren stood up, swiftly flipping his chair back around the right way before standing at attention facing Edgar.

“Yes-sir.”

Edgar gave a slight nod to the younger man, signalling that he could sit, as he stared down at the table in front of him. The older man tapped one fist lightly against the wood, considering his next words.

“You remember the Redhill battle? Your father’s team was part of the mercenaries hired to fill the duke's ranks that day.”

Garren’s brows furrowed slightly as he considered Edgar’s words.

“I… Yes, I remember.”

Belle glanced at Edgar curiously, moving her eyes slowly back toward Anthony as she spoke.

“How is that related to this boy? He would have barely been off his mothers milk at that time.”

Edgar sighed at his companion’s choice of words, gently closing his eyes and taking another slow puff of his pipe before continuing.

“How did that battle end?”

Garren rubbed his chin for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he replied.

“The duke’s forces won the day. The beast horde was routed, dispersed, and chased into the mountains.”

Edgar nodded as he asked his next question.

“What mountains were the remnants of the horde chased into?”

Garren shook his head, unable to come up with an answer as he looked toward Belle for help. Belle touched a delicate finger to her lips, considering for a moment.

“It was the Whitestone Mountain Range, if I am not mistaken. That would be…” She moved her finger away from her lips, pointing it down at the table as she spoke her final word with a sudden understanding, “Here!”

Anthony’s chest began to rise and fall more quickly as he listened to the conversation. The story being told was one he knew all too well, but that familiarity didn’t make it any less dreadful to his ears.

Edgar gestured toward Anthony as he concluded his explanation.

“Young Anthony lost someone precious to him that day. He has made it his solemn mission to become strong enough to slay the creature that took so much from him.”

Belle looked Anthony up and down with newfound appreciation, her curiosity evident as she questioned him, “Is that true, Anthony? Do you need strength for your revenge?”

Anthony met her pale blue eyes, which stared at him from beneath the thin hood of her cloak. Strands of light blonde hair, almost white, framed her slim, feminine face.

“Yes. I want to kill the Ogre that murdered my mother, but that’s not the only reason I need strength. I want to be strong enough to stop such things from happening to others. I will do whatever it takes to achieve this goal. That is why I need to join you.”

Garren’s eyes widened slightly at Anthony’s answer. He let out a slow whistle before responding.

“An Ogre, huh? You’ve got a long road ahead of you if that kind of strength is your goal, kid.”

Anthony nodded, acknowledging the truth in Garren’s words.

“I know that! I don’t care if it takes my whole life. I will achieve this power, or I will die trying.”