For a moment, the four armed individuals (five, if you counted Radyn sneaking stealthily through the trees) appraised each other carefully. On one side was the formation of Wardens, looking very professional in their matching outfits of green and brown tunics and pants beneath dark brown quilted gambesons, iron chain mail hauberks, and forest green tabards. Select bits of iron plate armour, lined with leather, protected shoulders, arms, legs, and heads, while the blades of bronze weapons caught the last light of the afternoon sun and gleamed like polished gold.

On the other side was a single woman, wearing a cuirass and bracers of ill-fitting leather armour over a simple tunic, trousers and leather boots. A sheathed short sword hung from a belt so overlong that she’d had to wrap it twice around her waist. The shield strapped to her left arm was of a rough construction that contrasted with the high quality weapon she clutched in her right hand, a spear that she seemed more comfortable using as a walking staff than as a weapon. She drooped with fatigue, held herself with a stiffness that spoke of broken ribs, and was covered in slowly drying blood.

“Hi,” she said again, her eyes flicking back and forth between Cirris, Serril, and Melori, as if trying to decide which of the three was the group’s leader. “Are you, uh, someone who might be able to help me?”

“We are Wardens,” Serril confirmed. “Please identify yourself, Miss.”

The woman let out a nervous chuckle. “That’s not as easy as you might think,” she said. “You can call me En, but it’s not actually my name.”

Serril frowned. “I'm going to need your true name, Miss.”

The woman shrugged tiredly, wincing as the movement pulled at damaged ribs. “I don’t know it.”

Serril paused, thrown off by the simple admission. By the way the woman had introduced herself, he’d expected a tale about a top-secret mission for the Emperor, or some equally ridiculous obfuscation.

“You don’t know it?”

She nodded, then shook her head, then frowned and gave up on nonverbals.

“Correct. More accurately, I can’t remember.”

Her words caused the Wardens to shift in unease. Significant memory loss wasn’t a common occurrence in the empire but it did occasionally happen. It was one of those things that the average citizen might not know – or care – about but Wardens were specifically trained to deal with. Because amnesia – whether from traumatic brain injury or magical interference – severe enough to wipe out a person’s identity, tended to cause certain…instabilities. Unconscious use of skills from classes the person didn’t remember getting could cause various levels of disturbance. If the amnesiac was a level one Wood Rank [Gardener] it wouldn’t be a problem; the worst such a person could do was cause the grass to grow a might faster. If the person suffering memory loss had been a high-level [Warrior] on the other hand…well, things could get messy.

This woman’s mismatched gear and battered condition was suspicious to start with. Looking at the sheer quantity of blood spattered across her face, caking her shoulder-length brown hair, and soaking her ill-fitting armour, Serril judged that at least two people had recently died violent deaths and that this woman had been right in the middle of it. Whether she had been victim or aggressor remained to be seen, but either would require a light touch.

Now that he knew the potential threat was a single individual – rather than a horde of monsters – Serril made a swift decision and gave a brief signal to Melori and Cirris. As he continued to engage the unknown woman in conversation, the other two Wardens sidled out from their arrowhead formation.

To the inexperienced person, it would look like the three Wardens were relaxing their guard and spreading out to have a more normal conversation, or as normal as any conversation between armed and armoured people in the middle of the forest at dusk could be. In reality, they were simply shifting to a new formation that allowed the squad to encircle the target without being overtly threatening. If attack became necessary, they could do so from all sides, but the flowing movements of the formation were designed to impart a sense of safety and camaraderie to the target.

Unfortunately, the way the woman’s gaze flickered back and forth, and the tension in her stance, told Serril she knew exactly what they were doing and would not be caught off guard. Thankfully, she made no move to attack or flee but calmly stood her ground and told her story.

Serril and the others listened in astonishment and concern to her tale of kobolds and dying Wardens. There were a few moments – such as when she recounted her conversation with the kobolds – when Serril got the sense there were some things she deliberately didn’t say. Her story followed a logical progression though, and had no obvious gaps, so he wasn’t sure what she might be hiding.

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Even the [Detect Truth] skill – which he typically used for the investigation and law enforcement side of Warden work – indicated that her words were truthful, or at least that she believed them to be. The skill did have its limits, for it only alerted him to falsehoods knowingly told, not unintended omissions or false information spoken by one who believed it to be true. The woman could be bat-shit crazy and her tale a complete fabrication, but if she believed it to be true, his skill would read it as such; which was why no Warden worth his weapon ever relied entirely on skills.

Serril blinked and realized that as he’d mulled, the woman had finished speaking and was waiting patiently for a response.

“Alright, Miss…En, was it?”

She nodded. “It will do,” she said quietly.

Serril grunted in acknowledgement. “Alright, Miss En, I have some questions.”

Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “I thought you might, but first, do you have any water?”

“Melori,” Serril ordered briefly, and the female Warden removed a canteen from her belt and handed it over.

As strange as the blood-covered woman’s story had been, Serril didn’t think she was an immediate threat, so while she quenched her thirst, he turned to the youngest Warden.

“Break out the torches, young Imbrex,” he said. “It’s getting too dark to travel without them.”

Cirris shucked off his small pack and began digging out the tiny enchanted crystals that Wardens used in place of flaming sticks, while Serril turned back to En.

“Based on your description, Miss En, the clearing the kobolds attacked you in is a place we call the Elder Tree’s Grave.”

“Apt description of the place,” En said with a touch of humour.

“Yes, well, we were heading that direction anyway, so we might as well march and talk at the same time. Bodies attract scavengers, after all; the sooner we get there, the better.”

En nodded and handed the canteen back to Melori. She picked up her spear and turned wearily back up the faint trail down which she’d been jogging before meeting the Wardens.

Melori fell into step beside her on the left, Serril took up the rear, and Cirris quickly re-slung his pack and hurried to catch up on En’s right.

The trail wasn’t really wide enough for three people to walk abreast, but the undergrowth was light and the trees not closely packed, so they made it work. As they walked, Cirris passed “torches” to each of his fellow Wardens, his own already clipped to the front of his helmet.

The small magic-filled stones cast a warm red glow, bright enough to illuminate the path and immediate surroundings, but dim enough to preserve basic night vision. Radyn, of course, had a [Night Vision] skill, and while he did carry a torch stone, using it would effectively negate his stealth, so it rarely made an appearance while he was working.

Serril had made a deliberate choice not to reveal the presence of the [Scout] to En, and Melori and Cirris had enough experience (or training, in the boy’s case) to follow his lead.

He didn’t think the strange woman was leading them into an ambush, but he and his old friend had not reached their respective fourth decades of Warden service by taking foolish chances or relying on assumptions. By the time the foursome on the trail reached their destination, Serril knew that the veteran [Scout] would already have ensured the area was secure.

The sun finally finished setting and En and the three Wardens walked in silence for several long minutes, until they were interrupted by En stumbling over a root.

“Oh, right,” Cirris said, as the woman regained her balance. “I meant to give you this.”

He shyly held out a torch stone. En took it with interest, then looked around at the Wardens, glancing at their helmet-mounted stones.

“Oh, right,” Cirris said again, blushing as he realized the problem. “They attach to our helmets but you, uh, don’t have one. Uh…that’s a Warden spear, right?” he asked, pointing to the weapon En carried.

“It belonged to a Warden, yes.”

“There should be a node on the haft, right below the head. You can attach the torch stone there.”

En followed the young Warden’s instructions, though she had to wipe away some half-dried blood to find the node.

“It’s like magnets,” she muttered, as the stone clicked into place. She then gave Cirris a tired smile.

“Thank you, uh…Imbrex?”

Cirris shot a questioning glance at Serril, who cleared his throat.

“Sorry about that, Miss En. Guess we forgot to introduce ourselves. I’m Warden Serril Catullus, [Squad Leader], this here is Warden Melori Getha, [Arbalist], and the young one is Junior Warden Cirris Imbrex, [Spearman].”

Once again, he chose not to mention Radyn. He also didn’t list their respective class Ranks, which were Gold for himself, Silver for Melori, and Iron for Cirris. It might have been considered the polite thing to do in modern society, giving one’s class Rank, but Serril didn’t believe in giving persons of uncertain allegiance hints about the potency of his and his allies’ abilities.

If En noticed the omissions, she didn’t react, simply acknowledging the introductions with a nod.

“I’m a [Spearwoman],” she said, an expression of distaste flickering across her face as she named her class. “Thank you, by the way…for helping me.”

Serril studied her face for a moment but found no signs of anything but sincerity.

“We’re Wardens, Miss En,” he said by way of response. “This is what we do.”

Before she could say anything else, he pointed up the trail with his chin. “We best keep moving.”

She took the implied order with grace and soon the group was moving swiftly down the trail. Even moving at speed, the Wardens were on high alert. Serril alternated between checking their back trail and keeping an eye on En, while the other two mostly watched their flanks, trusting Radyn to have cleared out any obstacles or ambushes from the front.

The closer they got to the Elder Tree’s Grave, the more the back of Serril’s neck prickled and his head ached. Either En was crazy and had somehow slaughtered an entire Warden squad – in which case it had been a serious mistake to let her keep her weapons – or her story was true and kobolds had invaded the Empire. Either way, it was going to be a long, hard night.