Four days had passed by Autumn in a flash.
In the mornings, she’d trained with her team until noon, then broke for a quick lunch before they’d take on a few low-ranking missions around the city. The missions mainly comprised either running messages around the city, searching for lost pets, of which there were a surprising number, or hunting down R.O.U.S. (rats of unusual size) in the sewers.
Oh yes, the city had sewers, intricate ones at that.
Built throughout the rocky pillar was a maze of tunnels and pipes large enough to traverse while standing. Even Nethlia had clearance above her horns. Gravity and rainfall flushed the filth down long sloping tunnels till they reached deep vertical wells. There it’d fall into reservoirs far below to be processed into fertilizer.
This network of tunnels created a kind of undercity beneath Duskfields that played host to all manner of monsters who enjoyed damming up the passageways, causing all kinds of havoc above. Thus, it was up to brave, and iron-stomached, adventurers to traverse the slick ladders and stairs in search of critters to slay and pipes to unclog.
Autumn was not a fan.
In the few times they had delved into the sewers, they’d only managed to explore a tiny section of the upper layers, but already the smell haunted her mind and nose.
After a quick cleanse at the Guild, Autumn would head back to the House of Blooms for a much longer and hotter shower to rid herself of the pervasive, clinging smell. During the week, she’d found herself also roped into helping around the bordello, focusing on mainly just keeping the place clean and tidy. Learning the repair charm from her tome had been both a blessing and a mistake, as it now meant she was the go-to handy-witch for anything broken.
Not that she minded. It felt nice to help out.
Thanks in kind to her lack of funds, Autumn had come around to the idea of selling her artistic services to the bordello. As of now, she had only done Lia’s and Saphielle’s, each for a reasonable price of 25g. Stacy had offered a price of 50g per portrait at the start, but Autumn didn’t feel comfortable taking it all, seeing as she was living rent-free in their home.
However, the busy days soon ended as their first major mission loomed.
It all started on their fifth day as a team.
Nethlia had run them ragged today, having booked some time in one of the training fields just outside the city. The Guild had filled the grounds with varying terrain and obstacles for them to maneuver about.
Now they sat tired and sweaty within the guildhall, feasting on meats or vegetables and beer.
Just as Autumn was polishing off the last of her food and drink, a commotion started up over by the mission boards.
In the mornings and afternoons, the staff would post quests and other sorts of jobs on large boards. These quests could range wildly, but most tended to have prerequisites that clients specified. They could be anything from the number of adventurers required to certain ranks or even classes; it all depended on the danger involved and how much they were willing to pay.
Even then, the guild reserved the right to change the classification if they felt the dangers were too high.
Once an individual or team found a quest, they would then head over to one of the many receptionists to register for it. It was a reasonably efficient system.
From the sounds of the hubbub, either they’d posted up a fantastically good mission or an odd one. Glancing about at her companions, Autumn saw they were all finished with their meals and looked interested in seeing what missions they had posted. Pushing through the crowd, they made their way over and got a look at what everyone was all excited about.
A large job posting read “Goblin Hunt in the Restless Mire. Multiple teams willing to work alongside the Duskguard requested. 4480g per team, 10s per goblin slain.”
Liddie whistled upon reading it.
“That’s a hell of a price tag per team, not to mention goblins usually only go for 5s each.”
What were the odds?
Only eight days ago, the Duskmoore Hamlet had been attacked by a Redcap hunting party and now they were cropping up again. Autumn felt an unease in her stomach forming.
Having read the posted quest, the team backed away from the overcrowded boards and made their way to a clear booth with a fresh round of drinks to discuss their options.
“So, should we take it?” Nethlia asked.
“Where is the Restless Mire, anyway?” Autumn asked.
“It’s way up to the northwest on a cape of the Flooded Coast. The closest settlement near it would be Bogward, but I’m surprised anyone’s bothering to post a hunt there. Perhaps someone spotted an encampment?” Nethlia answered her.
A flash of anger washed over the berserker’s face as she recalled the night of the Redcap assault. The wooden mug in her hand groaned in protest.
“I gather it’s a swampland, but what dangers are we expecting?” Autumn turned to her fellow teammates.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
“A lot,” Liddie bluntly stated. “Swamps are the most infested place right alongside rainforests, and guess what’s surrounding the Mire? We’ll be facing foul weather, bugs, leeches, poisonous plants, and sucking mud, and that’s not even mentioning the monsters or undead. The Restless Mire is full of things that want to eat or possess you.”
“Sounds pleasant,” Pyre spoke around a mug of cider.
“Quite. Honestly, it’s not a place worth exploring. I’ve only been there once, and that was enough for me. The guild might have more information if we sign up. We can always ask one of the receptionists.”
The more Autumn heard about this place, the less she wanted to go, not to mention that pit in her stomach. Something about this didn’t feel right, but she didn’t know what.
“The fact that the Duskguard are involved means it’s not just a small camp, likely someone found a larger encampment,” Nelva said.
Edwyn opened another stone bottle of Caskbringer Whiskey. After a hefty swing, they turned to Autumn.
“Ye mentioned that ye hud business with the fae. Any chance this is connected?”
Autumn wilted slightly under the attention of the others. Even though she had known these people for a few days now, she still was fairly reserved around them and given the context, she felt like shrinking in even more.
“H-how could it be…wouldn’t they be nearby if it was?”
“I agree.” Nethlia spoke up for Autumn. “Plus, goblins have been roaming the Restless Mire for as long as I can remember, so it’s not that strange.”
Pyre sat, nervously bouncing her foot as she took in the rest of her team. As the youngest of the group, she felt she had to say what they were all thinking, but was too hesitant to say.
“Are we ready for this?”
A quiet fell as they all contemplated. Nethlia’s brow furrowed, Edwyn drank, and Liddie gazed into memory as Nelva tapped her foot with nerves. Autumn herself gazed about, well aware that this could be a tipping point; they all might die on this journey if Liddie’s recount was to be believed. But they needed to take a chance, right? Somebody needed to be the one who waded into the murk and filth to kill goblins. If left unchecked, they could do untold damage.
Who knows if they haven’t already?
“To a vote? Raise your hands if you think we should take it?” Autumn said into the silence.
Slowly, hands began raising. Edwyn and Liddie were the first to confidently do so, followed by a slightly hesitant Nelva and a more so Pyre. After a brief quiet, Nethlia lifted her hand, leaving only Autumn remaining.
They hadn’t said whether it had to be unanimous, but they awaited Autumn’s decision as if it were.
The rapid bounce of her foot betrayed her anxiety as she crossed her arms. In her stomach, something coiled and shifted. With a deep breath, Autumn drew her fear away and her foot stilled.
As the last hand rose, the decision was made.
Autumn couldn’t help but think she had made a terrible mistake.
----------------------------------------
Inquiring at the mission office, they met the lovely Zenmia Stoutbottle once again. She informed the team that the reason behind the posting of the sudden and highly-paid mission was because the goblins had attacked the marsh village of Bogward. In the night's dark, redcaps and other greenskins had crept into the village and slain many of its inhabitants.
Unlike Duskmoore however, the village possesses its own guards: the Mireguard. They were able to kill many of the invaders and even drove them off, tailing them back to their home; a bloodstained keep deep within the Mire.
Unfortunately, the Mireguard didn’t have the numbers to assault such a defended structure, so had requested the aid of the barony’s Duskguard and the Adventurer’s Guild in dispatching them. The Duskguard was the pre-eminent force of the barony serving directly under its Liege-lord. Of course, each suitably sized town or city held its own garrison. Bogward had their Mireguard, for instance.
The convoy would leave in the morning, as it was estimated that the journey would take roughly eleven days to accomplish. They’d be merging with the main Duskguard force that had assembled at a place called Fort Rainguard four days into their journey.
It really put things into perspective for Autumn. On good roads, a car would’ve taken only two hours or so to cross that distance and perhaps four to eight on bad roads. From what she’d seen, the roads of the barony consisted of packed earth, with a few drainage ditches dotted alongside here and there.
The Dusk Wolves, as they were tentatively known, weren’t the only group to sign up. Four other groups had enlisted and would be gathering in the morning for the journey.
All that was left to do was to prepare.
Supplies were brought and loaded up in their wagon, mostly food, but they also stocked up on waxed leather coats and waterproofing oils; the flooded coast wasn’t just a fancy name. Rain fell upon the north of the peninsula in abundant quantities, like a tide.
Autumn prepared as well in her own way, with witchcraft. Following the instructions within the tome, she constructed more anti-hex totems from old chicken bones and wax, enough for three per person. With what she knew, it was unlikely that they’d need them, but it was better safe than sorry.
It at least quelled the churn of anxiety somewhat.
With everything prepped and prepared, the only thing left to do was to get a good sleep in; an early morning awaited after all. With her anxiety quenched by cider and wine and a belly full of a farewell meal, Autumn rested her weary head and dreamed.
At first, it was soothing, nothing but a pleasant fog, but after a while, it shifted and changed. Soon she was wandering through spaces either familiar or alien.
At one point, she was…home. Floating through the weathered front door, she was met with the sight of two detectives: one a grizzled man, the other a young woman. They were standing over a disheveled-looking man: her foster father.
Autumn couldn’t tell what they were saying, but the expressions on the detective’s faces were hard. Like a ghost, Autumn drifted past them, heading down the hall to her bedroom. Behind her unnoticed, the older detective shivered at her passing and he gazed about with a searching look.
Her room was a mess, more so than usual. The beds tossed, the dressers rummaged, even the carpet was cut up, exposing the flooring below. It looked like many people had combed over it.
A familiar sniffle from the wardrobe caught Autumn’s attention. Peeking inside, she saw a familiar face. Trian, her adoptive sister. She dressed all in black: black t-shirt emblazoned with an emo-punk band, black-and-white striped tights under black jean shorts, and black unlaced chucks on her feet.
Being the two oldest in the home, they’d shared a room for some time. Thus, it was impossible to not know each other at least a little. The goth girl had grown on Autumn somewhat, so seeing her so distressed sent a pang through Autumn’s ethereal heart.
Judging by the redness of her eyes, she’d been crying a lot, hiding away in this lonely closet. Music played loudly from headphones stuffed into Trian’s ears, drowning out her tears and sniffles. It was a familiar song to Autumn; one of her favorites. They’d often listen to it together late into the night.
The vision faded as she floated in a sea of consciousness.