Chương 40: Chapter 32: Max - The Fifth Badge (Part 2)

Downstairs, the Guild Hall had regained some of its noise, though it dimmed again as they descended. Mara straightened when she saw the stamped slip in Max's hand. She took it, read it, and her eyes widened.

"Full bounty," she murmured.

"And a decent bonus. All right." She counted out coins with quick, practiced movements. The clink of silver on wood was both comforting and slightly jarring after the talk with the Guildmaster.

"Thirty each," she said at last, dividing five neat stacks.

"The Guildmaster signed off on an extra fifty from the emergency fund. Don't thank me for that. Thank him. And if you can avoid bringing me another sack like that, I would be grateful. The smell is going to haunt my dreams." Max managed a small huff of laughter.

"No guarantees," he said.

"But we'll try." Mara exhaled, then looked past him to Alina.

"And you," she said.

"You're Garret Crestwood's girl." Alina tensed.

"Yes." Mara's expression softened.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said.

"I bought dried apples from him every winter. He haggled like a demon, but he was fair." Alina's mouth twitched.

"That sounds like Da," she murmured.

"If you mean to register," Mara added, "come back once you've eaten something. You look about ready to fall over." Alina nodded, but Max shook his head.

"Actually," he said, "we were hoping to register her now. Copper rank. Then add her to our party." Mara blinked, then pulled a fresh ledger from under the counter, suddenly all business.

"Name, Class, and Level." Alina stepped up, back straight, fingers tightening once on the edge of the counter.

"Alina Crestwood. Ranger. Level five." Mara's quill paused for half a breath at the number. Then she wrote it down carefully, eyes flicking up once to meet Alina's gaze.

"The fee is waived. Guild policy for those directly harmed during an incident. And for whatever it's worth, I'm glad you're not going back out there alone." She closed the ledger.

"Welcome to the rolls, Alina Crestwood. Try not to die. It makes the paperwork unbearable." Alina gave a tiny, bewildered snort that might almost have been a laugh. Max waited until the ink had dried before speaking again.

"Next, we'd like to register as a True Party." Mara's eyebrows crept up, but she was already reaching for a slimmer book.

"Party name, if you have one," she said. The five of them looked at each other. Cass shrugged.

"Later. Just put us down as the Hayes Party for now." Max grimaced, but Mara was already writing. She looked back up when she'd finished.

"Party leader?"

"Max," Cass, Elias, and Borin said together. Alina lifted her hands slightly, palms up, as if to say, 'Don't look at me, I just got here'. Max sighed, giving the three of them the stink-eye.

"Max Hayes. Warrior. Level eight." One by one the others gave their names and classes.

"Cass Sorrel, Rogue, level eight."

"Elias Veyric, Mage, level eight."

"Borin Ironmantle, Cleric, level ten." Mara added Alina to the party as well. When she finished, she closed the ledger with a crisp little snap.

"Well then," she said, and this time her smile was genuine.

"Congratulations. You're officially a True Party. That makes six currently active in Brindleford. Most adventurers are smart enough to settle for taking smaller contracts and less responsibility, so enjoy your special treatment and the extra danger that comes with it." Cass's grin flashed, pleased and unapologetic.

"I wouldn't want it any other way." Mara pointed her quill at them.

"Go eat. Go sleep. Go fix your gear. And please, by the Seven Saints, take a bath. Come back tomorrow or the day after. The reserved postings are not going anywhere. Now shoo." She waved them away like a pack of naughty children. They didn't need to be told twice. The square outside felt too bright, the air too crisp, but coin meant choices, and choices meant survival. Cass handed out the silver once they stepped into the square.

"Gear first," she said.

"Then baths. Then dinner, ale, and beds." They split without debate, each drifting toward what they needed. Max replaced his damaged shield and had his blade repaired. Elias added a layer of protection beneath his robes, opting for a hardened leather vest. Borin took his hammer to a Smith, paying to have the head inspected, the haft tightened, and repair what wear he could. Afterward, he disappeared briefly toward Durak's shrine in the Grand Temple of the Allfather.

Cass moved from shop to shop, restocking what she'd spent. Alina took a bit longer, as she needed more things, and was less familiar with the cobbled streets of Brindleford. She was the last to return to their arranged meeting spot, walking up to the others wearing light armor fitted close for movement, a new pack, and a short sword at her hip that looked slightly out of place. Max caught sight of the blade and said quietly, "I can teach you to use that. No point carrying steel you can't swing."

Alina's throat worked, then she nodded.

"Thank you. I'm done being prey." The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. That evening, after they had all thoroughly scrubbed themselves clean in the baths, they ate together in the Wayfarer's Rest. The common room was warm and loud, but their table was a small island of quiet. They ate stew and bread and spoke mostly of practical things. Straps. Fit. Edges. Little details that filled the air without touching the real hurt underneath. Eventually, Max looked over at Alina.

"Where are you staying?" he asked.

"Tonight." She stared into her cup.

"I don't know yet," she admitted.

"An inn, somewhere. I have some coin now. I can manage."

"You can stay here," Max said, lifting a hand to signal the innkeeper.

"It's quiet. The walls are thicker than the others near the square." She didn't answer right away, but she didn't refuse either. After supper, the others peeled away, one by one. Cass clapped Alina on the shoulder before heading out.

"Sleep," she said.

"We will start making trouble again soon enough." Elias nodded a simple goodnight. Borin squeezed Alina's forearm gently and rumbled, "Rest. The world will still be there when you wake. Annoyingly." Max and Alina stayed in the common room, drinking slowly and talking until the noise had faded and only a few stragglers lingered near the hearth. Later, in his small room, Max had just finished unbuckling his greaves when a hesitant knock tapped against his door.

He opened it to find Alina in the hall, red hair loose, eyes red rimmed and unfocused, knuckles pressed against the wood.

"Sorry," she said immediately, turning to leave.

"I can go."

"No, no," Max said.

"It's fine. Come in." She stepped inside and sat on the chair by the narrow table, hands twisting together. For a few heartbeats she said nothing.

"I can't sleep," she said eventually.

"Every time I close my eyes, I see the porch burning. Hear them screaming. Feel the barn roof go." Her jaw clenched.

"I hear him telling me to run. Part of me thinks I should have stayed." Max's chest tightened.

"No," he said quietly.

"If you had, he would've had to watch you die. That's the one thing he wasn't willing to do. We all saw that." Her eyes shone again. She swallowed hard and looked away before wiping at them with a sleeve.

"I know that here," she said, tapping her heart.

"Knowing it here is harder." She tapped her temple. Max crossed to the shelf, pulled down a small stoppered bottle the innkeeper had sold him for cold nights and worse memories. He lifted his brow at her.

"Helps or hurts, depending how much you drink. Worth a try." She let out a short, shaky breath.

"Pour." He filled two cups halfway, handed her one, and sat on the edge of the bed. They clinked the clay together with a muted tap and drank. The liquor was rough but warm, sliding down with a burn that settled low. They didn't talk about Crestwood Farm at first. Max told her about his early days taking Guild jobs instead. About accepting a rat-clearing contract that turned out to be a cellar full of something far larger and far angrier than rats.

About misjudging a simple escort and nearly losing a wagon wheel in a ditch because he thought he knew a better road than the farmer who hired him. About the time he tried to haggle for bread and somehow talked the price up instead of down. Alina's mouth curved despite herself.

"You're terrible at bargaining," she said.

"Historically," Max agreed solemnly.

"A menace to my own coin." She snorted softly at that and took another drink. Once the cups had been emptied and refilled twice, she started talking too. Bits and pieces slipped out. How her father would let her practice shooting twigs stuck in fence posts until her shoulder cramped instead of doing her chores. How he would hum while he worked, always the same tune, like he was keeping time with himself.

How he used to bring apples up from the cellar in winter and cut them into thin slices for her and her brothers, pretending it was a feast. She went quiet for a long moment.

"I keep thinking of small things. The way he stirred stew. The sound he made when he stretched in the morning. It feels like if I hold all those details in my head, he won't really be gone."

"That's not a bad thing," Max said.

"You're allowed to hold on." She rubbed at her face with the heel of her hand.

"I'm angry," she admitted.

"At them. At myself. At the world for letting goblins exist. I want to kill every one I see." Max nodded.

"Good. Angry is better than empty. Just don't let it make you stupid. We'll hunt them. Together. The ones that did this, and others like them." She looked at him, eyes wet, mouth twisting.

"You promise?"

"Yes," he said.

"I promise. We will put more goblins in the ground than you can count. And we will do it as a party. So you're never standing alone the way he did. So the next farm doesn't burn." The cups clinked together again. They kept drinking. The bottle emptied slowly. The talk wandered, from farms to Guild gossip to Elias's habit of walking into doorframes when he was reading and Borin's talent for snoring loudly enough to rattle shutters.

Sometime between another shared memory and another swallow, Alina's eyelids began to droop. Her head nodded once, twice, then tipped back against the chair. Her cup slipped in her fingers. Max caught it before it hit the floor and set it aside on the desk. He watched her for a moment as her breathing evened out. In sleep, the tight strain of grief left her face. She looked peaceful. Spent, not shattered. He rose and lifted her carefully. She murmured something unintelligible but didn't wake.

He laid her on the bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, then stepped back as if even that small closeness might disturb something fragile. After a moment, he took the chair by the door, shield within reach, sword propped against the wall, and closed his eyes. Sleep came fast. Morning crept in with the smell of bread and woodsmoke drifting up from below. Max woke stiff and dull-headed. Across the room, Alina shifted under the covers. She blinked at the ceiling, confusion knitting her brow.

Her hand brushed the blanket, then the mattress. She froze. Slowly, she turned her head toward the chair. Max was there, still in the process of waking up fully. Color rushed to her face.

"I remember the chair," she said faintly.

"I don't remember getting up."

"You didn't," Max said.

"You were out for the night." She sat up slowly, piecing it together. Embarrassment flickered across her face, followed by something more vulnerable.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly.

"I didn't mean to just fall asleep in your room."

"It's fine." She hesitated, then forced the words out, "Thank you," she said.

"For not taking advantage of it." Max met her gaze without flinching.

"You were exhausted," he said evenly.

"That's all." Silence stretched for a beat. Then some of the tension drained from her shoulders.

"I know," she said quietly.

"I just… needed to say it."

"You're safe here," Max replied.

"That's not going to change." She studied him for another second, as if weighing that promise. Then she nodded once.

"Thank you," she said again, softer this time.

"Anytime," Max answered, and meant it. Downstairs, Cass spotted the awkwardness the second they approached the table. Her eyes flicked from Max's face to Alina's, to the way Alina would not quite meet his gaze. Cass's mouth twitched, but she said nothing about it. Instead she slid a bowl toward Alina.

"Eat. Then work. And if you fall over on the road, we'll blame the ale, not your grief." Borin set a steadying hand on Alina's elbow as she sat.

"Aye, food first," he said.

"The world is lighter on a full stomach. Not kind, mind you. Just lighter." Elias pushed a cup of watered cider toward Max and passed Alina a small pouch.

"Ginger crumbs. Good for heads that decided drink was wiser than sleep." Alina blinked, then smiled, just a fraction. They ate together quietly. Alina's grief was still there, but it had edges now instead of being an endless pit. They walked back to the Guild Hall in the late morning, gear settled properly on shoulders and hips, coin lighter in their pouches, Copper badges catching the light on all five chests. Max felt Cass bump her shoulder lightly against his.

"Try not to trip," she murmured.

"You'll ruin the dramatic entrance." Elias's eyes were bright and focused, taking in everything ahead. Borin moved as he always did, steady and grounded. Alina's fingers brushed the new Copper badge at her chest, as if confirming it was real.

"We made it this far," Max said quietly. Cass caught it.

"And yet further to go. But yes. Not bad for a handful of Coppers with questionable judgment." Elias smiled faintly. Borin snorted. Alina didn't smile, but something steadier than grief had taken root behind her eyes. They reached the Guild doors, and Max paused with his hand on the handle. For just a moment, he saw fire instead of lanternlight. Heard the crack of beams and the screams of dying goblins instead of laughter. Smelled smoke instead of stew. He let the memory settle. Then he pushed the door open.

The noise inside dipped as heads turned in recognition. They crossed the common room together, boots steady against the worn boards. Mara looked up as they approached, one brow arching slightly.

"Back already?" Max stopped at the counter, hands resting lightly on the wood.

"We're ready."

"For what?" she asked, though the answer was already in her eyes.

"Our next job," Cass said.

"And not something off the public board this time." Mara studied the five of them in turn. Cleaned armor. New steel. Set expressions.

"You want a reserved posting," she said.

"Yes," Max replied. A slow smile curved across Mara's face.

"Good," she said.

"I was hoping you would."