From the morning mist filling the gaps between the hills came a long line of cavalry. They rode unhurriedly down the northern highway and through the gates of Faulsen and caught the township entirely by surprise. Soldiers in uniform hauberks; olive surcoats lined with deeper green, shiny helmets on. The eastern wind rustled their banners, and on the banners was sewn the image of a crowned red drake surrounded by three stars against a yellow background. The symbol of the Kingdom of Argento. Those versed in heraldry would also pay attention to the set of green banners portraying the stylized head of a drake resembling rather a rooster and its tulip crown, which belonged to Northbrandt, the current day ruling house of this land.
I was on my way past the market square to the bureau when the cavalry came up, and upon a glance at their banners, I at once hurried to cram my person into the shady gap of the nearby buildings. From there, I followed the procession, experiencing great nervousness.
The soldiers rode by my spot four abreast until a group somewhat more eye-catching came up towards the middle of the cavalcade. Three very prominent figures, surrounded by scores of grim guardsmen. Two of those men could have been twins. Both middle-aged, their auburn beards and hair were styled similarly, and there was a great resemblance in their hazel eyes and bearing as well. One was dressed with a little more color than the other, a red-brown, fur-lined cape over his shoulders, and a firm iron band resting on his brow.
There came King Pellegryn II of the House Northbrandt, and his older brother, Theodor, and with them the royal Steward, Ser Martinet.
I would not say I knew them well, but I had met all three once before, in the Imperial Court in Valengrad. It was now two years ago when the King of Argento and his retinue had come for a formal state visit to our side. Officially, to ease the soured relations between the Empire and the North and discuss trade-related concerns.
It was among the most high-profile summits since my appointment as an imperial maid, and the Emperor had personally asked me to attend. The guests had come with steep demands, on taxation, on travel, and the dungeon’s management, but over the course of their stay, the tones had grown gradually milder. Everything went well, as far as I could tell, and the foreign royalty left for home well-fed and entertained, wearing casual smiles.
Two weeks later, Argento announced they would close Ferdina’s embassy in Bryggford, and sent all our diplomats home.
The truth of the matter was, King Pellegryn had come looking for a fight from the start, with such terms he had thought we would reject off-hand. He was practically begging us to insult him, but despite his best efforts, he hadn’t managed to get a rise out of either side, not us nor his own. Thanks to the sanity of his brother and advisors, and our patient efforts to appease the guests, the King ultimately had to return home without a sound excuse to open hostilities. Neither did he have the brass to take the blame for such a conflict all on his own. He would have to suffer a strained peace for years to come and was not pleased.
Naturally, Argento didn’t have the means to attack us through the mountains and the dungeon any better than we did the other way. That was precisely why he could afford to act big, the chieftain of his little fiefdom behind the fence from a greater power. What he really was after was not glory on the battlefield, but a legal excuse to rob southern traders, investors, and landowners north of the mountains, to refill his withering country’s coffers. If a war was declared, then the possessions of any imperials in the north would be free for the crown’s taking, while we had limited means to defend them. A cheap and shortsighted tactic, as a desperate tyrant is wont to use.
But if King Pellegryn saw and recognized me here, now…What better excuse could there be? The very thing I had dreaded for the past month was beginning to manifest on this Monday morning, heedless of my silent prayers.
No, perhaps I was too paranoid. I was only a humble servant, there was no reason for a King to remember me. Then again, I had been right by the Emperor. We had stared at each other face to face in the same room for very awkward hours not two summers past. How demented would a man have to be to forget?
Depending on the incompetence of another was an audacious, dangerous game to play. It was better I steered out of the royalty’s view as best I could. While the cavalry drew the stirring townspeople’s attention, I made my way to the Guild by a more roundabout way.
Ms Vera had gone ahead of me that morning, saying she had things to prepare before the opening. At eight precisely, I stepped into the unusually quiet Guildhall and went to the front desk, where my landlady awaited in her service role, looking even wearier than usual.
“What, not watching the show?” she asked me, the irony heavy in her tone.
I raised a brow. “You already knew they would be here?”
“I had word from a colleague last night that the King’s men were camping in Redfield as Jarl Fossler’s guests. Hope they trampled his lawn real good.”
“And? Why is the King of Argento here now? Has something happened?”
Ms Vera glanced at me as though the question had been very stupid.
“There’s an offer on cheap mead—Really, what do you think? The dungeon, isn’t that a given? It’s been a month since that bridge went down, and they’ve yet to find another way through. The tap’s closed! No travelers, no tolls, no taxes, no commerce. No traders, no grain, goods, nor sales. The more time passes, the more this country bleeds money. So his majesty has come to clear the way with his shiny knights and take credit as our savior. And probably the bounty money too.”
“You don’t sound happy about it,” I observed. “If anyone can clear the dungeon, it should be the Royal Army.”
“Great if they do,” Ms Vera said and shrugged. “But they’re marching right over the Guild to get there. They expect us to back them up without paying a dime. Our people are losing work too. Can’t do much questing when the whole place is crawling with soldiers. Hard to be happy about that!”
“I see. That is rather unexpected.”
“What is?”
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“I was under the impression you despised adventurers, yet here you are willing to speak even against the lord of your land on their behalf.”
To care so much about the livelihood of strangers, it seemed her heart was bigger than my own. Ms Vera blinked at me for a moment, stunned into silence.
“Like, whatever!” she then resumed, her pitch rising a notch. “It’ll reflect poorly on me too, if our members are having a hard time! Isn’t that a given? More business for the Guild, the better I get paid. It’s in my best interests that you guys stay alive and fed!”
“Naturally. Then, you said there was something you wished to discuss with me after I got here. Was it about the King’s visit?”
The furian’s look grew more somber.
“No. I have a job for you. A job just for you.”
“Truly?”
Ms Vera took out a sheet of paper and set it onto the desk in front of me.
“This is a quest from me,” she said, the stare of her green eyes hard. “I’m bending a lot of rules to do this, and it may end up being much ado about nothing. But if—if it works out, it might be a nice boon for you too. Just, because I’m the client, I can’t pay you that much. Thirty-five coppers is the absolute best I can scrape together. Even knowing that, will you hear the details?”
What had got my landlady so worked up? The act was very mysterious indeed. But just how greedy did she think I was, to dread I’d turn her down if the pay wasn’t high enough? Or was the task she had in mind so toilsome?
“Well,” I said after a thought, “I believe I owe it to you for your hospitality to at least obtain the particulars.”
“I can’t ever get a straight answer out of you, can I?” Ms Vera sighed. “Oh well, I’ll tell you. You know, Norn has a job as a shepherd at Mile’s ranch on the Hikers.”
“News to me. I’d wondered what he did during the day. So he’s working instead of attending school?”
“As if I could afford to send him to school…” Ms Vera muttered ruefully. “I’ve been teaching him to read and write in my spare time—but never mind that. A shepherd’s job is to take the sheep to the highlands to graze during the day and bring them safely back to the corral by night. A big responsibility and crap pay, but simple enough for even a kid to do. He’s been handling it fine by what I hear, but…Here we come to the contents of the quest.”
Ms Vera removed her hand from the bill and tapped at it.
“Yesterday, Norn told me he saw a big dog up where he usually takes the flock. A brown-furred dog larger than a grown man. He said it ran away when it noticed him looking, before he could see any better what it was like, but...How about it? Does that description ring any bells for you?”
I touched my chin and thought quietly for a brief moment.
A hound larger than a man…A stray, moving far from habitation. Likes high places, stalks a flock of sheep, not afraid to show itself to a human. Certainly, you didn’t need to be a specialist in monsterology to guess one likely answer. It made my brow scrunch up on its own.
“...A direwolf?”
“Yeah.” Ms Vera nodded. “That’s what I feared. So here’s my task for you, Ms Maid. This is what the Guild calls a ‘conditional quest’. We can’t be a hundred percent sure if what Norn saw was a real direwolf. They’re pretty rare in these parts, and the word of a twelve-year-old is...not the best proof. I can admit that. But this is my own damn family on the line. As if I could just leave it be! I want you to go up there and see for yourself. If you conclude it was nothing, you’ll be paid an investigation fee of twelve coppers, and we’ll mark it down as an F-rank task. However, if you find a real direwolf out there—then I’m asking you to eliminate it. Chase it away, do whatever it takes to ensure it doesn’t come back for more. That’s easily a D-rank assignment we’re talking about. You need one for your rank promotion.”
Before I could make a sound, she quickly continued,
“Now, I get what you want to say. A direwolf is a dangerous beast. Nobody sane would go after one solo. You’d be risking your life out there for only a handful of copper, a pretty stamp, and my thanks. The standard fee for a mature direwolf is over five silver, not even including the loot. Naturally, the corpse will be all yours. All I need is proof of the kill. Well, the whole thing is a real wild goose chase, and I won’t hold it against you if you decline. The choice is yours.”
Ms Vera fell quiet and turned her stare down at the desktop, as if afraid to see my reaction.
The stakes were quite unpleasant indeed, no argument there. Direwolves were a menace to any man. Quick, powerful, and ferocious. Worse still, they were intelligent. Cautious. They were known to study their prey and take out any defenders first. If the beast was what it seemed to be, it was guaranteed to kill Norn to feast on the sheep.
“A question, if I may,” I posed and raised a hand.
“What?”
“Wouldn’t a task such as this normally be the responsibility of Norn’s employer and not yours? Mr Mile should hate to lose his sheep and workers more than anyone. If he can afford to keep a flock of sheep, he should also be able to afford the standard rates. Am I wrong?”
Ms Vera clicked her tongue irritably and faced away.
“You’re not wrong, but…Mile’s ranch is just a name. The actual owner of the flock is Jarl Fossler. And his gamekeeper didn’t take the story seriously at all. They’ll rather let Norn and any number of sheep be ripped apart before they’ll cough up the silver to hire real hunters. Since it’s a pricey undertaking, normally.”
You refuse to believe anything could be wrong, or take measures against the worst-case scenario until everything actually does go wrong and it’s too late—Human nature at its finest. For the Jarl, the loss of a shepherd was an unfortunate setback, but for Ms Vera, utterly unacceptable.
And what was it to me?
No need to ask.
“I understand,” I told Ms Vera. “I cannot promise I can bring down a direwolf by myself, but I will investigate. At the very least, I will see that the young master comes home safely tonight.”
“Always with the stiff talk,” the furian replied, but her expression had relaxed into a weary smile. She gripped her stamp and marked the task as accepted.
A giant carnivore on the prowl…I couldn’t claim I wasn’t at all worried, being neither a hunter by trade, nor an expert on wildlife. Yet, if I couldn’t overcome a menace of rank C on my own, I had no more business in Baloria, where far worse things awaited. Before a favor to Ms Vera, or Norn, or Jarl Fossler, or the Guild, this was a personal challenge to me.
That beast or myself—only one of us could have a future.