The muffled buzz of conversation grew louder as Rowan, Tremil, and the Greenstride twins entered the Guild’s main auditorium. The room was spacious but dimly lit, with rows of wooden benches rising in tiers toward the back.

  A massive crest of the Adventurer’s Guild—two swords crossed against a pair of wings—was carved into the stone wall behind the stage, giving the space an air of authority.

  Quinea stood at the front, leaning casually against a lectern. Her sharp eyes swept over the assembled Silver-ranks, and her mere presence kept the chatter at a polite volume.

  A map of the region was displayed on a canvas to her left, with settlements and points of interest marked with pins.

  “I will take my place with the others,” Tremil said, turning to Rowan as they entered. “It was a pleasure speaking with you, mage Jamis. And I do hope to see you again soon.”

  He gestured for the twins to follow and made his way to the front.

  The mage advisor moved with a quiet confidence, nodding to adventurers as he passed. His apprentices trailed behind him, Huon looking sullen while Tion offered polite smiles.

  Rowan took a moment to scan the room. The Crimson Grove had claimed a row near the top, and Annie waved him over.

  “About time,” she said as Rowan slid into a seat next to her. “We started getting worried he’d steal you away from us.”

  Rowan chuckled. “He can’t afford me.”

  “Damn straight,” Silvia added, running her hand along the curve of her new bow, practically petting it. “You know, I never expected being rich to be so fun.”

  Rowan arched an eyebrow. “And since when are you rich?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

  Silvia reached back and pulled out a coin pouch, one that looked suspiciously like those Rowan had in the Vault. She grinned. “Ever since I found three of these in my room.”

  Omi nodded, pulling out one as well. “Same. But mine only had two.”

  Rowan laughed.

  He’d stashed those around the house and completely forgotten about them. Having gold on hand was useful in a city like Litwick, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  “Consider it a performance bonus,” he shrugged.

  Gold wasn’t really something that concerned him all that much. The Vault held enough of it to build a castle with just the coins, and while it certainly had its uses, those dropped off dramatically at higher levels of power. It was the currency of the common man, one that quickly got replaced by favors and unique items the further along you went on your Path.

  Omi frowned. “Then why does she get more?”

  “Why do you think?” Silvia beamed. “I’m an asset,” she hooked the pouch back on her belt. “You’re just… sneaky. Honestly, you should probably give me one of yours so it’s fair.”

  Annie snorted. “Please. You two drunks should be on probation.”

  Silvia pointed an accusatory finger at Rowan. “That was completely his fault.”

  Rowan raised his hands. “Whoa, what’d I do?”

  “You made us think we were celebrating! How was I supposed to know that we weren’t allowed to have a good time,” she crossed her arms, tilting her head up. “Annie’s right. You are a schemer.”

  Rowan shook his head. “Alright,” he conceded. “I’ll take like, half the blame.”

  Silvia nodded, “So out of everyone, you’re the most at fault. No probation for us.”

  “And where’s our gold?” Annie added, gesturing to Nemir. “No performance bonus for us?”

  Rowan squinted at her. “Are you trying to extort me?”

  “Yes,” she said shamelessly. “I’ve been eyeing a skill book for [Spear Mastery]. It should help me gain Insight and hopefully speed up advancing it to Expert.”

  He nodded, thinking for a moment. “There should be a few more in the dining room—in one of the cabinets.”

  “Nope,” Omi said, carefully tracing the edge of his blade. “I checked there. Someone already took them,” he said, glancing at Silvia. “I wonder who could have done that?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said as she reached into her vest and pulled out a beast pellet.

  Kai didn’t hesitate, hopping over and picking it up with his beak. He threw it into the air, swallowing it down with a quick bite. Sil fed him another, and Rowan’s familiar settled on her shoulder.

  “See?” she pointed out. “Kai agrees.”

  His familiar nuzzled against her cheek.

  Rowan sighed. “Still trying to bribe away my familiar?”

  Silvia gently scratched Kai’s beak, eliciting a small trill. “Once again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She pulled out another pellet and fed it to the gluttonous raven.

  Rowan could have pulled out a pellet that was better, but he decided to let her have this one. The ones offered in the second chamber of the Vault were still Rare—the same as the first—but there was still a difference between them.

  To create Epic-rarity beast pellets you needed to use high Silver—or low Gold—level ingredients. And those weren’t suitable for a beast of Kai’s level.

  The Vault was sectioned off for exactly that reason. Legendary and above ranked items were certainly powerful, but the most likely outcome of him having access to those wasn’t good.

  Unlocking the third chamber would require Rowan working on his Core, something he wouldn’t be doing until after the goblins were dealt with. A week wasn’t a long time, and he’d much rather spend it mastering a few Wind spells than advancing his Core by five percent.

  Rowan turned to Annie. “I’ll stash a few in the living room. Take as much as you need.”

  A smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks. I’ll make good use of it.”

  “You’re not just rich, are you?” Omi added casually. “You’re wealthy. I mean, who has pouches filled with that much gold just lying around the house?” He looked around at the group. “Tell me I’m not crazy?”

  “Super weird,” Annie nodded. “But hey, I certainly don’t mind.”

  Rowan laughed, shaking his head.

  He hadn’t told them everything about who he was, but the parts he did share made everything so much easier.

  They knew he was a noble. Most likely from a particularly wealthy House, and they didn’t mind. They didn’t try to pry, and it wasn’t at the forefront of their minds every time they talked with him.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Rowan nodded. “You could say that,” he said with a smile. “But if I’m going to be team treasurer, we should probably work out a better arrangement than leaving treasure around the house for you to find.”

  “I feel left out,” Zoe said, sitting next to Silvia.

  Rowan glanced at the healer. “Don’t worry, I can—”

  Before he could finish, she fished out a pellet of her own. Only this one was shining with a soft golden glow.

  Kai’s head snapped toward it, and he immediately moved to Zoe’s shoulder. She carefully fed the seemingly empowered treat to the raven, who savoured it in his mouth before gently swallowing.

  Rowan stared at the scene, honestly questioning if his familiar’s loyalties had just been turned.

  Zoe’s lips quirked slightly upward, and she started gently petting his feathers.

  “I don’t think she was talking about the gold,” Annie snorted, pulling out a booklet and starting to read.

  Silvia sighed. “I feel like that should be considered cheating.”

  Kai glanced at her, tilting his beak up dismissively.

  “I don’t think he agrees,” Nemir chuckled. “Be careful Sil, you’re losing your support.”

  Rowan leaned back in his chair, feeling better than he had in a long time. Having people around him who he trusted made everything so much easier, and he was glad to have found these five.

  Zoe was a peculiar case, but if she was given a vision by Eldara, Rowan wasn’t going to question it. Gods rarely did things for no reason, and he’d gladly accept the help. Especially if it meant having a healer of her skill around.

  That should help with the whole not dying thing.

  He’d expected the vision of his supposed death to weigh on him, but surprisingly, Rowan barely thought about it.

  No matter how powerful, Gods couldn’t predict the future. They could make assumptions, guesses of likely events, but that was it. Only Eldric, the God of Fate, had any semblance of Dominion over that aspect of reality. And even his followers didn’t perform prophecies.

  The only thing Rowan could do about Zoe’s vision was to grow stronger and try to prevent it from happening. Something he would have done either way, so stressing about it didn’t make all that much sense. [Iron Will] certainly helped too, but Rowan felt he would have been fine even without it.

  Whatever Zoe fed to Kai must have been good, because his familiar curled up around her shoulders, dozing off.

  Him growing stronger was always a good thing, and Rowan didn’t actually mind the pampering.

  “Betrayal stings, doesn't it?” Silvia asked, looking at him with a disappointed expression.

  Before he could reply, Quinea clapped her hands. “Alright, settle down,” she called out, her sharp voice cutting through the growing murmur. The room quieted almost instantly, the weight of her authority palpable. “We’ve got a lot to cover, and I don’t have time to coddle you. So pay attention.”

  She gestured to the map beside her. “I’m going to assume all of you know what this meeting is about,” she said, pointing to a spot east of the city. “The tribe is moving faster than we’d hoped, and my scouts confirmed they’re already gathering near the Forest of Dagrun. Their Warchief is already there, so it’s just a matter before the rest of their numbers arrive.”

  “How many are we talking about?” the peak Silver-rank rogue asked. “We’ve taken out more than a dozen packs already. That has to have put a dent in them.”

  Quinea shook her head. “Right now, we’re talking about more than a hundred hobgoblins—and at least five times as many of the lesser variants. Not to mention a cohort of shamanas, a Warlock, and the Warchief himself.”

  A tense silence fell over the room.

  This was no minor threat, and all of them knew it.

  “From my reports, only half of the completed quests involved a hobgoblin. And only two had to deal with a shaman,” her eyes flickered to Rowan and then to the blade wielder sitting next to the rogue. “Those packs were roaming in search of where the tribe settled. And there’s many more of them out there.”

  “Have we called for support?” a weary looking warrior called out. “If there’s that many of them, and more on the way, this isn’t a problem we can deal with on our own,” he looked around the room. “There’s what, thirty Silver-ranks in Litwick? Maybe forty? The hobgoblins alone are enough to bury us.”

  “Speak for yourself,” a cocky adventurer snorted. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but taking out three hobgoblins doesn't sound all that hard,” he shrugged. “But I guess we all have our limits.”

  The first adventurer scowled, ready to say something more but Quinea silenced them both.

  “We have,” she said firmly.

  The warrior sat back in his chair, looking satisfied, but what Quinea said next burst his bubble.

  “Sheercliff is sending a team of Silver-ranks and two mages. They should be arriving in under a week.”

  “What?” he asked, sounding alarmed. “That’s it?”

  “We’re not the only city dealing with a surge,” Quinea replied. “Harpies are moving into the mountains surrounding Tumbleton, there’s Ashen Wolf packs roaming the Wilds surrounding Whitehelm, and Sheercliff is dealing with a Stalker infestation,” her intent gaze moved across the room, taking everyone in. “This is our problem to deal with,” she finally said. “And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

  Rowan found himself nodding along. If a settlement wanted any chance of persisting, they needed to be able to protect themselves on their own.

  The Kingdom of Vandral was vast, with cities being days apart, separated by the Wilds—and that was just in the same region. If Rowan wanted to walk to Eiseylth, that could take him years.

  The goblin tribe was theirs to deal with. The few reinforcements that arrived would be all the help they’d get.

  “So, what’s our plan?” the blade wielder sitting next to the rogue asked, her voice strangely loud. “If what you say is true, we should be leaving tonight,” she said firmly. “The longer we wait, the more of them we’ll have to deal with. Why allow them to gather?”

  “Because if we leave now, we’ll be going with a dozen less Silver-ranks and two less mages,” Quinea answered calmly. “Mage Tremil and I can occupy their two heavy hitters, and the Iron-ranks shouldn’t have a problem with the lesser variants,” her gaze swept across the room. “But the hobgoblins are another matter entirely.”

  Rowan sighed. He understood her point.

  The adventurers in this room were stronger than all but the highest leveled hobgoblins, but if there were hundreds of them, dealing with them wouldn’t be an easy task.

  The group of Silver-ranks coming from Sheercliff would put the number of warriors with Auras on their side to somewhere over fifty. They would still be outnumbered, but the situation was much more manageable—not to mention that the two mages would almost double their number of casters.

  In all, there were seven mages in Litwick—including Tremil—but since he would be fighting the Warlock, it would be up to the eight of them to contend with the cohort of shamans.

  Those rarely numbered over a dozen, so not an impossible task.

  “We’ll spend the next week going over how we plan on dealing with them, but for now, I want you to go to your teams and spread the word,” Quinea said, straightening up from the lectern.

  “Can we still go on quests in the meantime?” a middle-aged man asked, an axe strapped to his hip. “A week is a long time to be idling around,” he rubbed his fingers together. “What’s in it for us?”

  Quinea arched an eyebrow. “Your continued existence? Is that not enough for you?”

  When the man didn’t budge, she rolled her eyes. “The coin is going to be deposited into your accounts by the end of the day. It’s considered a Gold-ranked quest, with rewards depending on your contributions. And no. There aren’t going to be any new quests posted until we deal with this.”

  Quinea stepped off the stage. “You want to get paid?” she asked, looking down at the suddenly not-so-confident adventurer.

  “I… yes?”

  “Then when the time comes, do your duty and defend this city from being razed to the ground.”

  He gulped, nodding firmly. “Yes, Guildmistress.”

  She looked around the room, her presence a physical weight. “This won’t be an easy fight,” she began. “We’ll be attacking a possibly fortified position while outnumbered.”

  Rowan watched as her words rippled out, but instead of fear and hesitation, he saw excitement in the eyes of most of the adventurers here.

  He felt it too. Like a low humming in the back of his mind. A drumming he could have snuffed out, but instead, Rowan let it build.

  A leadership skill, he thought. And a strong one too.

  These people trusted the woman speaking to them. They knew she wasn’t leading them to their deaths, that she had confidence this was a fight they could win.

  Rowan wasn’t sure if it was an Expert-level skill like [Duke’s Command], but Quinea’s authority as a Guildmistress was undeniable.

  “And it still won’t be enough to stop us,” she continued, her voice filled with conviction. “We’re going to batter down their walls, destroy what they’ve built, exterminate them as a threat to Litwick and to the people who call it home.”

  A cheer went out, and Rowan found himself joining in. The same as the rest of his team.

  She was right. When they came for the goblins, they wouldn’t know what hit them.

  This fight would be the most dangerous he’d ever been in. It would involve monsters that had a real shot at killing him, and the people he cared about.

  That was a fate Rowan had no desire to see come to fruition.

  There was only one thing he could do to try and avoid it. The same thing he’d been doing till now.

  He needed to get stronger.

  And thankfully for him, Rowan knew exactly how to accomplish that.

  It’s time to learn some new spells, he thought, an excited smile on his face.