“I…how dare you?” Edmun looked flustered for the first time since his arrival in Distan, a light sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. “Frontiersman or not, you’re still just—”

“Cousin,” said Alistar, who chose this moment to run over in order to assuage the situation. “They must be tired from their travels and all of the dangers that they face in their line of work. I think right now simply isn’t a good time for them.”

“You stay out of it.”

“Our apologies,” he said, turning to the others who had only now slowed to a stop. “My cousins were too excited to see you, so they forgot themselves for a moment. They’re fans of yours, you see, and have been for a long time, so seeing you in person was a big deal for them. Can you blame them for the excitement? If you ask me, it’s your fault for being too talented.”

“There’s always one with a silver tongue,” muttered Vaun, who peered down at Alistar with wide, analyzing eyes that were partially visible through the partial face guard of his helmet. “Though at least this one knows some good words. Boy, what style do you practice?”

“Beg pardon?”

“From the way you’re standing, you must be an apprentice swordsman. What style do you practice?”

“Crown style, sir.”

“Same as the tavern boy, eh? Tier?”

Calum pulled his cloak back to rest a hand on the exposed hilt of his sword. “He’s just a beginner. I’m already a third-tier apprentice, and my brother’s actually a first-tier adept.”

“Yes,” said Edmun, eager to salvage the situation despite his earlier anger. “He’s just a bastard, anyhow. Don’t mind him.”

The young woman put on a pretty frown, though didn’t say anything. The only one to speak was the brown-haired man that had been bickering with Vaun earlier.

“We don’t have time for this. We need to register for the commission and then find lodging in the city. Let’s go.” He left on that note, quickly followed by the other four.

The brothers stood there in shock for a moment before the eldest spun around and stormed out of the plaza.

“We’ll be heading back to the estate,” said Calum. “Our mood’s been spoiled.” Glaring at Alistar, he said, “And in the future, you’d do best to know your place. You embarrassed us greatly today, and we’ll not forget it.”

Zech walked over as the brothers disappeared into the dwindling crowd, which had cleared from the centre of the plaza during the earlier interactions with Team Tempest.

“I was curious about how those two would be these days, but it’s safe to say that they’re still the same wastes of air that I remember.” Glancing back at the frontiersmen as they were closing in on the relevant building, he said, “Hey, now that you’re free, do you want me to introduce you to those guys?”

“How do you even know them?” asked Anice, whose irritation finally slipped onto her face now that she didn’t have to maintain the farce of entertaining their cousins. “You’ve never even left Distan.”

“Must be my charisma,” laughed the sandy-haired boy, who motioned for them to follow. “Wow, you girls look great. Even you Anne, I never thought that you could look so girly.”

“Shut up!”

Zech laughed as Anice shuffled after him, dodging a couple of aimless slaps and then leading the way over to the large doors of the frontiersmen guild.

“You don’t think they’ll be mad?” asked Lessa, a bit timid as they walked inside of the building. “They already told us to leave them alone.”

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“That’s because of the losers you were with.” Looking at Alistar with calculating eyes, he asked, “You usually have your coin purse on you, right?”

“Why?”

“If you promise to buy them a drink at our tavern, then I guarantee there’ll be no problems. Trust me, they’re not how people think they are.”

Dressed in their fine clothes, they stuck out amongst the rugged, hardened people that filled the guild’s entrance hall. Dozens of wooden benches and tables were spread throughout the bulk of the interior, the far wall lined with long desks where at least twenty people were stationed in sectioned off areas. A few lines had formed in front of some of these employees, all of whom were dressed in black tunics and trousers, and it was one of these lines that Team Tempest had chosen to join. Unlike the behavior of those outside, the other frontiersmen and employees of the guild didn’t approach the five, though many had eyes on them.

“So that’s how you know them,” said Alistar, nodding in understanding. “I should have figured. Did you bribe them with beer behind your parents’ backs?”

“Don’t question my charisma. Let’s wait for them to finish registering, then we can head over to the tavern with them. If we’re lucky, they’ll teach us some interesting things.”

“Are you sure it’ll be okay?” While Alistar was quite interested in speaking to real, tried and tested frontiersmen, the last thing he wanted was to be a burden.

Zech gave him a confident punch on the shoulder. “Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

***

After they had entered the frontiersmen guild, Zech had gone over to have a brief conversation with Team Tempest while they waited in line to register for the commissioned task that had drawn them to Distan. The group seemed happy to take him up on his offer but apparently had a lot to discuss with the guild clerks now that they were in town and so had told Zech that they would head over to the tavern once they were finished with their business in the guild.

Alistar and his friends made their way to the Lawson’s place where they planned to wait for the frontiersmen, enjoying some sandwiches that Zech’s short, chubby mother had brought them with a generous smile. Both Mr. and Mrs. Lawson were of middling age and modest features, the former with a receding hairline of thin blond strands and a bulbous nose, the mother with thick, bushy hair the same colour of her walnut dress.

“When will they get here?” sighed Anice. “It’s already been an hour. Are frontiersmen really so busy?”

“I hope they take longer.” Lessa didn’t seem bothered by the wait. Rather, she appeared content to lounge around in the tavern’s dim, languid atmosphere. “Aren’t you happy to relax without your cousins around?”

Anice brightened up at the thought. “You’re right. Maybe we can sleep here.”

Zech put his hands up in a helpless manner as Anice sent him a coercive stare, though before he could turn her down the tavern’s front door opened up to admit five familiar figures. They were now dressed in casual clothes, revealing Vaun as a thin-nosed man with several scars across his face that left gaps here and there in his short but kempt beard. Like the two other men that had been concealed beforehand, he was baldheaded, though unlike him they didn’t have facial hair.

“Hey there, strangers,” smiled Vaun, who greeted Zech’s parents with surprising familiarity. “You still got that sweet cider by chance?”

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” chuckled Mr. Lawson, who slung a wet rag over his shoulder and nodded towards his son. “My boy’s been counting the days before you lot returned, so be sure to entertain him.”

“Ha! That depends on how strong your drinks are.”

“I hope you remember your words. We’ve got a new batch of cider that just finished fermenting.”

Mr. Lawson disappeared into a back room while Zech stood up to eagerly wave the others over. They didn’t seem too pleased to see three of the nobles from before, though Zech was quick to say that Alistar wanted to buy them a round of drinks in order to apologize for his cousins’ behavior.

“To think there’d be a day when we received a gift from a Silverkin,” sighed Henri, the astute-eyed man with healthy brown hair. In a joking voice, he added, “You must be Caedmon himself.”

“That’s my Papa,” smiled Anice, who turned to Alistar with pride. “See? Everyone loves Papa. Unlike my stupid uncles.”

Alistar suppressed an eye roll as he noticed a small tug at the corner of the young woman’s lips.

“Sorry about our cousins,” he said carefully. “They have…high opinions of themselves.”

“It’s not our first time meeting nobles kid,” said the shorter of the bald men, who had a narrower face than the others with a long, pointed nose. “Like everyone else, they can be a mixed bag.” Turning to Zech, he let out an impressed laugh and gave him a rough smack on the back. “Look at you. Three Silverkins on one hand and famous frontiersmen on the other. You just might be the most well-connected tavern boy in all of Civus.”

“Who cares about connections? I just want to become stronger.”

The man flicked him on the head with an index finger. “Every frontiersman needs connections. They can make the job a lot easier under the right circumstances. Have we taught you nothing?”

“Literally nothing at all,” he grumbled, rubbing at his forehead in exasperation. “You always get too drunk and then leave.”