South Gate – City of Edanis.

  At first light, I walked toward the south gate. I found the team already gathered and waiting for me by the massive stone archway.

  "Is everyone ready?" I asked.

  Brimming with excitement, they answered in unison, "Yes, sir!"

  "Let’s move, then." I offered them a subtle smile.

  Traveling to South Nirwall forced us to take the old forest roads to cut down on travel time. Luckily, this route was considered a safe zone, free of any lurking monsters. The only downside was the treacherous terrain. No carriage could navigate the uneven, root-choked paths, which meant we had to hike the entire way on foot.

  Surprisingly, the long trek was quite entertaining. Patrice kept the morale high by happily sharing bizarre, loudly animated stories from her childhood.

  When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, we found a nearby clearing and set up camp for the night.

  "So, is it true your dad used to be an adventurer?" I asked. I was sitting cross-legged in the dirt, lazily stoking the crackling bonfire with a long branch.

  Patrice nodded enthusiastically, a wide, gap-toothed grin spreading across her face. "Yeah! Well, sort of! He was a master traveling cobbler. He roamed all over the continent with a massive cart."

  "How the hell does a dwarf pull a massive cart across the continent?" Hoiler asked, leaning forward on his log.

  "Oh, he didn't pull it! We had a giant draft ox named Bogun. The beast was built like a stone wall, and his horns were this wide!" Patrice dropped her water skin and stretched her arms out as far as they could go to demonstrate.

  "Why didn't he just use a horse?" I asked.

  "He did once, actually. And it was a huge mistake!"

  "How so?"

  "One day, my dad got a custom order from a famous mercenary in the Free City. To cut the travel time down from Havendor, Dad left Bogun in the stables and bought two massive workhorses. A trip that normally took five days only took two!"

  "I don't get it. Then why didn't he keep using the horses?" Hoiler frowned in confusion.

  "Because of the smell, you idiot!" Patrice laughed. "Horse dung and piss smell absolutely foul when you're trapped on a muddy road behind them for two days straight!"

  A genuine chuckle escaped me as I caught onto the punchline. "Oh, I love where this is going."

  "Hold on! I’m not done yet, sir!" Patrice laughed, holding a hand up. "When Dad finally opened up the back of his cart to deliver the boots, the stench of horse piss had completely soaked into the leather! The boots reeked like a stable floor!"

  We all burst out laughing. "So the mercenary went mad?" Mathilda asked, leaning gracefully into the warm light of the fire.

  "That's the weirdest part! The mercenary didn’t smell it at all! He was so proud to wear them that he even gave my dad a massive bag of silver as a tip. But when he proudly marched around the Free City in his new boots, the townsfolk immediately scattered, giving him a ten-foot berth. He strutted around looking so incredibly confident! He genuinely thought the people were terrified of his deadly reputation, when in reality, they were just fleeing the smell of horse piss!"

  We all lost it. Our laughter echoed loudly through the quiet forest, chasing away the chill of the night.

  "Oh, my gods!" Hoiler gasped, holding his stomach. "I bet he didn’t even need to draw his sword to clear out a tavern!"

  I had to wipe a stray tear from my eye, waiting for my own laughter to subside. "So, let me guess. That’s why your dad went back to the ox?"

  Patrice nodded vigorously. "Yeah! He had to spend a whole week scrubbing his cart with lye just to get the stench out of the wood!"

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  "That is the first time we've seen you laugh so carelessly, Mentor."

  Mathilda’s soft voice cut through the fading chuckles. I glanced at her. She was tilting her head, resting her chin on her hands, playing the role of the innocent, curious archer to absolute perfection.

  Heh. The little snake.

  I forced myself to maintain my composure, hiding the sharp spike of adrenaline in my chest. "Yeah, well. I used to be a greenhorn just like you guys once."

  "C-Can you tell us a story about your past, sir?" Kenny asked timidly from the other side of the fire.

  I looked around the circle. The firelight flickered across their faces, they were all looking at me with eager, hopeful eyes, hanging onto my every word.

  Yeah. These kids really aren't so bad after all. I smiled genuinely.

  "Sure. Get comfortable. Let me tell you the story about my very first task."

  I shared the story of my very first deployment, back when I was fresh out of the academy. My squad consisted of me, Roger, and Lana. I operated as the dedicated tracker, while Roger and Lana handled the frontline force. It wasn’t a glamorous contract, but it burned itself into my memory forever.

  "We were hunting a pack of black wolves," I began, watching the firelight dance across their captivated faces. "They were easy targets in a fight, but incredibly elusive. We tracked them for three grueling days. Whenever the trail went cold, we would sit on the ridge, trading stories and passing the time. That’s how the three of us forged our bond.

  "When we finally cornered the wolves in their den, a rogue Mountain Troll crashed through the tree line and wrecked the den. We tried to retreat, but the bastard was too fast. Because I was the lightest on my feet, I grabbed a handful of loose gravel and hurled it straight into the Troll's eyes to draw its attention. It worked a little too well. It charged me, and I lured it on a dead sprint right into a known Ogre cave.”

  Kenny gasped, his hands gripping his knees tightly.

  "While the Troll and the Ogre tore each other to pieces over territory," I continued, "I stripped off my leather armor, hung it on a branch as a decoy, and smeared myself with thick pine sap to mask my scent. I slipped away without making a sound. On my way back to the perimeter, I ran into Tris and a squad of Vanguards marching in to rescue me. Roger and Lana had reported what happened. And because I managed to manipulate two massive monsters into killing each other, the guild immediately offered me a position as a guide."

  I finished the tale and looked around the circle. The rookies' eyes were wide with excitement.

  "You really are a fast thinker, Mentor," Mathilda murmured, playing her role of the awestruck, innocent archer to absolute perfection.

  "Damn, sir! Weaponizing an Ogre against a Troll is a genius move," Hoiler grinned.

  "What happened on your next hunt? Tell us another one!" Patrice begged, leaning dangerously close to the flames.

  I chuckled. "That’s enough for tonight, kids. Get some rest. We move out at first light, okay?"

  "Yes, sir!"

  We passed the night without setting a formal patrol, relying on the safety of the controlled zone.

  At first light, we broke camp and resumed our march. The campfire story had broken the ice, and as we hiked, they began to open up.

  Hoiler wasn't just an ambitious boy riding his father's coattails; he genuinely wanted to become a Captain of the Garrison Guard to enact real justice for the people.

  Kenny, I learned, was actually a magic scholar. He possessed a deep love for spearmanship and tried to fuse the two disciplines, which explained why his volatile mana constantly overwhelmed his physical body.

  Patrice’s dream was beautifully simple: she just wanted to carve out her own adventuring legacy.

  And Mathilda... Mathilda spun a flawless lie about growing up as a simple hunter's daughter in the eastern provinces.

  It was a remarkably pleasant journey. The second night followed the exact same rhythm—laughter, shared rations, and trading dreams around the fire.

  But by the third night, the atmosphere shifted. We crossed the invisible border into South Nirwall. This was no longer a safe zone.

  "Alright, kids. I’ll take the first watch. The rest of you, get some sleep. I’ll wake Hoiler for the second shift."

  "Yes, sir." They immediately unrolled their bedrolls and settled in.

  I buried the bonfire with dirt, smothering the embers, plunging our camp into darkness to avoid attracting unwanted predators. I settled at the base of a massive elm, leaning my head back against the rough bark. The sky was perfectly clear, the silver moonlight washing over my face.

  I hadn't expected the hike to be this peaceful. But tomorrow, we had to be ready for hell. I stared out at the vast, darkened grasslands stretching across the horizon.

  "It has been a pleasant journey, hasn't it?"

  The whisper was softer than the wind. I turned my head. Mathilda was sitting right beside me.

  "You should be sleeping," I grunted, narrowing my eyes.

  She released a soft, musical giggle. "I couldn't. I just wanted to sit here with you for a moment."

  As she spoke, the facade washed away. The illusion dissolved into the night air. Her fiery red hair bled into a cascading waterfall of pure, luminescent white. Her timid green eyes sharpened, igniting into a piercing, brilliant crimson that caught the moonlight.

  "It takes a terrible toll on the mind to maintain a human disguise for days on end, you know," she murmured, turning to offer me a tired, breathtakingly genuine smile.