Chương 40: Chapter 27: Between Decisions and Departure- Part II

Eventually, the conversation around the table drifts toward other matters. Aibell begins discussing supplies that need replacing before the end of the week. Merrow makes a quiet note to prepare additional bandages and medicinal salves before the next market day. Ciara reminds Eammon that unfinished chores do not cease to exist simply because he has identified a potential threat to public safety disguised as a bucket.

"I remain convinced it is waiting for an opportunity," Eammon says. Ciara reaches over to straighten his collar, "Then I trust you'll continue monitoring the situation responsibly." The reassurance appears sufficient. I remain seated for several moments longer, watching the familiar rhythm of the grove continue around me. I glance toward the Silverwood visible beyond the communal tables. The Heartwoods surrounding it continue growing steadily within the walled garden while life carries on around them.

Residents move along the pathways. Morning conversations drift through the district. The grove continues now, not because of any single person, but because everyone within it chooses, in their own ways, to nurture what has been built here. Perhaps that is why stepping away no longer feels like abandonment. I push myself to my feet.

"I should get ready." The statement draws several glances toward me.

"So, you're really going?" Aibell asks.

"I think I should." Aibell studies me for a moment before nodding.

"Then I expect a proper story when you come back."

"I'll see what I can do." Ciara adjusts the blanket across her lap.

"Be careful," she says.

"I understand that adventuring rarely proceeds according to plan, but I would still prefer you return in one piece."

"I intend to." Merrow finally looks up from the herbs spread across the table.

"If you encounter anything poisonous, unfamiliar or capable of transmitting unusual diseases, avoid touching it unnecessarily." I consider the advice, "That seems reasonably sage advice." The healer's expression remains perfectly composed.

"Even so, you would be surprised how infrequently that conclusion presents itself." Nearby, Eammon abandons his charcoal sketches and hurries toward me.

"Will there be monsters?"

"Possibly." The boy thinks about that.

"If you encounter any hostile buckets while investigating, I trust you understand the importance of remaining cautious."

"I appreciate the warning." Eammon nods solemnly as if satisfied of making progress in his war against water buckets.

"I'll continue my research while you're gone." Aine finally glances up from her breakfast.

"Bring back food." The request catches me slightly off guard.

"What kind of food?" Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Aine considers the question carefully, then shrugs.

"Good food." The simplicity of the demand earns a faint smile from Ciara.

"I think that could be managed," I say. With the matter apparently settled, I excuse myself from the table and make my way toward the Silverwood. The garden remains quiet beneath the pale canopy overhead. I pause briefly beside the now growing tree before retrieving the belongings I left nearby during the night. Vael's staff rests exactly where I remember placing it. Nemain remains sheathed at my side. For a moment, my hand lingers against the familiar leather wrapping around the cursed blade's hilt.

The nightmare returns unbidden, hellfire, blood, the expression on the faces of the people standing behind me. Slowly, I let my hand fall away. The sword hums in irritation.

"Thank you, you cursed fool, for reminding me exactly why you should remain sheathed." The angry hum intensifies. I find myself appreciating that more than I probably should. Adjusting the staff across my back, I make my way toward the garden gates. Behind me, the grove continues much as before, breakfast, conversations. Children arguing over matters of immense importance. The sounds grow quieter with every step. At the edge of the walled garden, I pause, then glance back. Silver leaves stir gently overhead.

Heartwood branches stretch toward the morning sky. Beyond them, familiar voices drift through the district, home. The thought settles within me with surprising ease. Turning toward the city beyond the grove, I tighten my grip upon Vael's staff and continue toward Fallowspire, toward the Adventurer's Guild and toward whatever waits beyond its doors. The city feels different beyond the grove's walls. Perhaps it always has. Fallowspire has never lacked life.

Merchants arrange goods outside their shops while apprentices hurry between errands carrying supplies almost larger than themselves. Conversations spill into the streets from open doorways. Somewhere nearby, a blacksmith's hammer rings steadily against heated steel. The city moves with purpose. I follow the directions Havlar had given me earlier that morning, allowing the flow of people through the district to guide my steps. The Adventurer's Guild proves remarkably easy to locate, mostly because of the noise.

Even from half a street away, laughter and raised voices spill through the open entrance. The building itself occupies an entire corner near one of the city's main thoroughfares. Constructed from stone reinforced with heavy timber beams, it resembles an unusually welcoming fortress, after the Keep of course. People enter and leave constantly. Some wear armor polished to an impressive shine. Others carry staves, bows or weapons bearing the marks of frequent use. A few appear entirely ordinary.

I find that detail unexpectedly reassuring. For several moments, I remain outside. The uncertainty catches me off guard, entering a guild hall should not feel more intimidating than descending beneath Fallowspire to confront corrupted water spirits. Yet somehow, it does. The corruption had offered clarity. This does not.

"You planning to go inside?" The unfamiliar voice draws my attention. An older man carrying a crate balanced against one shoulder pauses near the entrance. His expression shifts toward amusement as he glances between me and the guild hall.

"You've been standing there long enough that people are starting to think you're conducting an inspection."

"I was considering my options." The man snorts.

"That usually means you're overthinking something." The observation feels uncomfortably accurate.

"I've been told that before."

"Then perhaps you should listen." With that, he continues on his way without waiting for a response. I remain where I am for another heartbeat. Then exhale quietly. The city lord had suggested the guild. My people had suggested the guild. Slowly, I make my way toward the entrance. The noise intensifies immediately. I look around when I open the guild doors, long tables occupy much of the common area while adventurers gather in small groups discussing recent contracts.

A large board near the far wall overflows with notices secured beneath brass pins. Behind a polished counter, guild staff move with practiced efficiency between towering stacks of paperwork. The smell of food, steel, parchment and travel-worn leather fills the hall. No one pays particular attention to me. I had expected curiosity, whispers, recognition. Instead, the guild simply continues around me. A pair of adventurers argue quietly over the wording of a completed report.

Someone celebrates the successful completion of an escort contract near the rear of the hall. A young woman carrying enough equipment to outfit a small army navigates the crowd without slowing her pace. This world continues moving and I am merely stepping into it. My gaze drifts toward the request board, dozens of notices cover its surface. Some appear routine requests, others considerably less so; escort requests; gathering commissions; pest control; beast sightings; missing persons.

A city's worries distilled into ink and parchment. The staff member nearest the counter notices my attention and offers a professional smile.

"First time visiting the guild?" she asks. I hesitate briefly. Then nod.

"It is."

"Welcome to the Adventurer's Guild," she replies.

"Whenever you're ready, someone will be happy to explain how everything works." Her tone carries the patient confidence of someone who has delivered the same reassurance countless times before. I glance once more toward the board filled with possibilities. Toward the city stretching beyond the guild's walls and toward the unfamiliar road waiting ahead. Then I step forward.

"I think," I say carefully, "that I have a few questions." The receptionist's smile widens slightly.

"Then you've come to the right place." Behind her, pinned near the center of the board, one particular notice shifts gently beneath the draft drifting through the guild hall. I do not notice it yet. But soon enough, I will.