Autumn’s dreams were uncertain and muddied.

In them, she traveled alongside a red-skinned woman into mysterious lands and fought unidentified creatures. She saved the princesses of kingdoms and toppled tyrants and foes.

Yet, amidst the fluidity of her dreams, a figure stood out to her. Amongst the wisps of delusion, they stood clad in a tattered red cloak. The hood cast a deep shadow upon their face that no light could penetrate. It was as if they had no face at all besides the lower half, and upon that pale half-visage was a pair of reddened cracked lips that smiled a crooked smile at Autumn.

Before they could speak, Autumn’s dreams began to shake and shudder. Snapping her eyes open, Autumn groggily cast her gaze about.

The morning sun shone over the rolling hills that shielded their campsite, dying the sun in a vivid glow.

“Good morning. Did you have a pleasant dream?”

A husky voice sounded close to Autumn’s ear. Turning her head, she realized that during her slumber she must have tossed about in her sleep and ended up resting upon the muscular shoulder of her demoness companion. A small amount of drool had leaked from her open mouth onto her.

Blushing, Autumn distanced herself in a panic, wiping the drool off of her lips.

Nethlia’s laughter at her plight resounded in the morning air.

Whilst ignoring the chuckling, Autumn busied herself with undoing her wards around the camp and packing up her and Nethlia’s things. They ended up enjoying a light breakfast of dried meats and fruits. It was nice, but Autumn longed for a plate of scrambled eggs and crisp bacon.

Soon, the pair had Kira all hooked up and lumbering down the dusty road. Nethlia was at the helm, of course, since she knew where they were going.

To that point, Autumn spoke up, “What kind of place is the town? Or is it a city?”

“We’re heading up to Duskfields. It’s more of a city than a town, large enough anyway. Not as big as the capital of the barony, but still pretty big. They named it after the Duskwheat that this region is famed for.”

Nethlia gestured to the fields of gray wheat waving in the early breeze.

“All trade passes through the city on its way from the farms and coast to further into the empire. It makes this region a lot of money and a lot of problems.”

“More money, more problems?”

“Exactly, from bandits and robber barons to monsters and worst of all…Taxmen.”

Nethlia shuddered.

“Were you an adventurer there?” Autumn asked tentatively.

“Yup, they’ve got a big guild hall and everything. Speaking of, I hope my license hasn’t expired. That’d be a pain and a half to resolve.”

Autumn bit her lip as she thought about the possibilities. Joining the Adventurer's Guild would open up a world of options, if it worked as she thought it might. Plus, any sort of income at this stage would be welcome.

“Do you think I could sign up? Is there some sort of fee or prerequisite?” Autumn asked.

Nethlia looked over at the ragged witch beside her, sizing her up.

“Sure, I’ve seen you fight. There is a fee, but I can vouch for you if you like,” Nethlia ventured.

“You’d do that?” Autumn blinked up, surprised.

“Sure, you saved my life. It’s the least I could do.”

Autumn turned her head downward at the reminder and an awkward silence enveloped the wagon. To combat the mood, Nethlia moved the conversation forwards.

“You’ll need a party too, so we might need to put in an application for some sign-ups.”

Autumn latched on a keyword within Nethlia’s statement, “We?”

“If you’ll have me, that is?” Nethlia asked.

Autumn blinked, confused at the demoness beside her. She could not grasp the idea that she’d still want her around after everything that had happened.

“But what about what happened? The villagers?”

“Like I said, it’s not your fault. Plus, somebody will have to take care of you. When those goblins show up again, I can get some payback.”

Nethlia’s grip tightened around the reins, causing the leather to squeal in protest.

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Ignoring the glow on her cheeks and in her heart, Autumn cleared her throat before speaking up again.

“Who…who else would we need? For a party, that is?”

“Well, it depends on what a party needs, what they are gearing towards, etc. I’ve found that a party of six fares better. You can cover most of your bases that way. Bases such as a defender, an attacker, a magician, a healer, a rogue, and lastly a tactician.”

Nethlia ticked off her fingers as she listed the roles.

“The guild likes to have everyone within a ‘class’, but they can be rather broad. It’s unlikely we’ll get everyone what we need, but most adventurers can fulfill multiple roles.”

“For example, I’d list myself as a ‘berserker-attacker’, as the guild likes to say, but I can fulfill the defender role if pressed.”

Autumn cupped her chin in thought.

“So like a DPS then,” Autumn murmured.

“Dee Pee Ess?” Nethlia asked with a raised brow.

Realizing she had spoken aloud, Autumn blushed before elaborating. “D.P.S., it stands for damage per second. It’s, umm, a term my father used. He was an adventurer too.”

In truth, he was an online adventurer, but it still counted, kind of.

“Huh, never heard that one before, but I guess it makes sense.”

Autumn sighed in her heart as Nethlia bought her excuse.

“That’d make me the magician as a ‘witch’ or maybe a CC tactician? Err, crowd control tactician, I mean.”

Nethlia gave Autumn a curious look.

“Sure, unless you can heal?”

“Nope.” Autumn shook her head. “I can craft a healing balm, but it’s only skin deep and I need more ingredients. Oh, that’s right. I need to visit an alchemist or herbalist, whichever is fine.”

Autumn exhaled. “So, we’re missing a healer and rogue for sure, a defender and magician maybe?”

“Sounds about right, but we’ll just have to see when we get to the guildhall.”

Nethlia sent a fanged smile Autumn’s way, causing her traitorous heart to skip a beat.

With a tumultuous beat inside her chest, Autumn settled into a comfortable silence. To occupy her wandering mind, she retrieved her Tome of Witchcraft and devoted the rest of the day reading it or in idle conversation. It wasn’t until an afternoon sun shone down upon them that Autumn got her first glimpse of the city.

Rising high from the rolling hills was a massive spire of stone. A singular formation in an ocean of gray. Nature had deposited this lone sentinel to tower over the outlying hills, and mortals would be remiss to miss such a destiny. Atop the pillar, a city nestled like a king’s crown. It’s towers of stone serving as gemstones.

Impenetrable walls lined the edge of the plateau above, hewn from the cliffs themselves. Watchtowers of timber and shingle rose from square protrusions. Their roofs flaring upwards to the sky, decorated with demonic horns and iconography. Autumn could only just spy the silhouettes of soldiers as they passed between crenellations on patrol.

The city roofline peaked above. Densely packed buildings, many stories tall, cast shadows down below. At the far back a castle sat, not of stone but of log. A courtyard mansion.

Another series of imposing walls sat at the base of the enormous rock. Connecting the two were a series of switchback paths creeping up the steep cliffs. At each turn, a gatehouse sat ready to be shuttered in case of invasion.

Autumn didn’t envy anyone who aspired to invade this city.

While not a perfect parallel, the city reminded Autumn of ancient Chinese architecture.

The pillar of stone grew larger and larger, heralding their approach. Wagons and carts cued up outside the city gates, filled with all manner of goods. Farmers, merchants, and travelers awaited entry in multiple directions.

It was at one of these queues that they found themselves at the very back.

Time crawled by at an extraordinarily slow pace.

Despite having traveled to another world, albeit unwillingly, Autumn still found herself stuck in traffic. Like something trapped them in thick molasses, the line barely moved. Ahead of them, the guards on watch thoroughly checked every cart that trundled past.

Directly in front of theirs sat a miller’s cart, overflowing almost with bags of Duskflour. Gray dust clung to every surface, turning the cart gray too. Just barely peeking out over the back of that wagon was the tiny face of an Inferni child. The girl was maybe eight or nine years old. Underneath a coating of gray flour was bright orange skin. A head of softly curling hair draped past a cute pair of horns, while a pair of brightly glowing eyes stared at Autumn.

She was enraptured by the sight of a human witch. It was unlikely that she’d ever seen either before, so was filled with an excited fright.

Nethlia didn’t seem too bothered with the staring, only leisurely smiling as they waited. While Autumn cared little for attention, there was much she could do about it. However, when the girl’s tiny glowing orbs would meet with Autumn’s gaze, she’d let out a small squeal of fear and wonderment. It brought a quirk to the corner of Autumn’s lips. Just a little one.

Soon enough the line had crept close enough for Autumn to catch sight of the milling gate guards.

Each guard wore a matching set of lamellar armor overtop of a gray silken gambeson. The armor was bone-white, constructed of rectangular sections of Agoroth horn, stitched together horizontally to overlap the rows below. They had tied onto their shoulders and hips separate panels of lamellar on leather. The helms they bore were similar in design, while a horsetail flowed from the peak. Loose gray pants flowed into a pair of armored red leather boots.

For a weapon of choice, they carried a long spear of dark wood capped with the sharp points of the Agoroth’s horns. Even from a distance, Autumn recognized the material as it was the same as what made up her prosthetic fingers.

Amongst the spirited collection of young demons and demonesses of varying hues that were inspecting the carts and wagons were a few grizzled veterans. The veterans were rather easy to spot as they inhabited their armors with a quiet assurance that their juniors lacked as well as they had colorful scarves wrapped around their necks.

Autumn watched as one of the demoness guards spotted them. At the unusual sight of a herculean warrior and a haunting witch, the young guard rushed anxiously inside the gate towards the captain of the guard.

The captain was an older demon. His long, graying hair gathered back in a loose ponytail. Upon his brow and around the corners of his eyes rested decades of experience, weathered and etched. He’d also inscribed his armor with intricate patterns inlaid with gold that shone with magic.

A heavy sigh escaped from the captain as he took in the sweating demoness guard before him. Turning his attention towards them, he locked eyes on their place in the line. Taking in the towering form of Nethlia and the smaller one of Autumn, he let out another tired sigh before standing up and making his way over to them at a sedate pace.