Chương 70: Chapter 43: Home – Part II

I do not remain beneath the Silverwood for long. As much as I would have preferred another quiet evening within the Grove, contracts only truly end once the Guild records them. Greenhollow deserved to know the danger had passed, but Fallowspire needed to know what had nearly happened beyond its northern border.

"I need to visit the Guild." Aibell folds her arms.

"Do you really need to go right now?"

"It shouldn't take long." She looks unconvinced.

"You've been travelling for two days."

"And delaying the report won't improve it." She exhales through her nose before nodding in reluctant agreement.

"Fine." Then her expression hardens.

"But you're coming straight back."

"I was already planning to."

"No, you were planning to say that."

"I was." She narrows her eyes.

"I don't know whether to believe you."

"You probably shouldn't." Despite herself, she laughs.

"I'll have supper waiting." The Hollowmane cub immediately rises when I shoulder my satchel.

"You don't need to come." It stares back at me and then complies reluctantly as I leave for the guild. The Adventurers' Guild is every bit as busy as I remember. The common hall hums with conversation while adventurers crowd the contract boards searching for work. Mud-stained boots leave fresh tracks across the polished timber floor, and somewhere near the back of the hall someone loudly argues that a boar had been at least twice the size anyone else remembers.

A familiar clerk looks up from behind the reception counter and recognition spreads across his face almost immediately.

"Grovekeeper."

"Good evening."

"I wasn't expecting you back so soon."

"Neither was Greenhollow, though they were hoping to." His smile fades slightly.

"The contract?"

"Completed." He reaches automatically for the ledger resting beside him.

"Livestock attacks near Greenhollow." His quill scratches steadily across the parchment.

"Suspected goblin activity."

"It wasn't goblins." The quill stops. He looks up.

"What was it?"

"A Rask colony." The silence lasts only a heartbeat before he frowns.

"A... what?"

"Rasks. Small humanoid scavengers. Distant cousins of goblins." Understanding fails to arrive. The clerk glances toward another man sorting contracts nearby.

"Master Ellard." The older clerk approaches, adjusting the spectacles resting low upon his nose.

"What seems to be-""It was a Rask colony." The words leave my mouth calmly enough. Ellard's expression changes immediately. His eyes narrow.

"Are you certain?"

"I spent the better part of the contract inside their hunting grounds."

"How large?"

"Twenty-three adults." He doesn't answer straight away. Instead, he quietly closes the ledger.

"Come with me." The room upstairs is considerably smaller than I remember. A heavy oak table dominates the center while maps of the surrounding region cover nearly every wall. Several senior adventurers already occupy the room, discussing another contract until Ellard's sudden entrance interrupts them.

"Gentlemen." His voice carries none of its earlier warmth.

"We have an after-action report." Every conversation stops. Ellard gestures toward me.

"Proceed." I unroll the map across the table.

"The attacks began roughly three weeks ago." My finger traces the northern fields.

"Livestock disappeared first, single animals, always at night." I continue without embellishment.

"The trail led through Highcrest Farm before entering Northwood. Approximately one mile inside the forest I discovered a concealed colony."

"How many?"

"Twenty-three adult Rasks." One of the adventurers whistles softly. Another shakes his head.

"I've never even heard of a colony that large near settlements." Stolen story; please report.

"They had already begun breeding." Silence settles around the room. That statement alone explains everything. Ellard folds his hands.

"What happened next?"

"I eliminated the colony." One of the adventurers actually laughs. Then notices nobody else is smiling.

"... You did?"

"I had little choice." I explain everything as plainly as I can. No heroics or dramatic speeches. Simply the sequence of events as they occurred. By the time I finish, nobody speaks for several long moments. Finally, Ellard asks the question I had been expecting.

"How long do you estimate the colony had been established?"

"Long enough that waiting for reinforcements would have been unacceptable." He nods slowly.

"Yes, you made the right call." Another adventurer leans forward.

"You said there was a Hollowmane cub."

"Yes."

"Alive?"

"Very much so."

"Hm." He exchanges a thoughtful glance with Ellard before leaning back once more. Ellard makes several notes upon the report before looking up again.

"I assume your return journey was uneventful."

"Not entirely." His quill pauses. I continue.

"Approximately half a day's travel south of Brookmere Bridge I encountered four bandits attempting to rob travellers."

"And?"

"They are dealt with."

"Hmm, bandits usually don't work in smaller groups like these.

""They belonged to a larger camp." The room grows quiet once more.

"I followed their trail." Ellard looks at me.

"How many?"

"Twelve including their leader."

"And the outcome?"

"I dismantled the camp." Nobody laughs this time. One of the older adventurers studies me carefully before speaking.

"You eliminated a Rask colony and a bandit camp. All during the same contract."

"They weren't part of the contract."

"No." He leans back thoughtfully.

"But they are now part of the report." Ellard closes the ledger with deliberate care.

"Fallowspire owes you a considerable debt, Grovekeeper."

"I was simply doing my job." He gives me a long look.

"No. You were doing the work of an entire emergency response party." The words settle heavily around the room. For the first time, I begin noticing the expressions surrounding the table. The faces bear an expression I am not much used to. Respect. The kind earned only after surviving something every experienced adventurer understands should have required far more people than one. Ellard slides the completed report into a leather folder.

"I'll forward copies to the Guild Council before nightfall and the lord of Fallowspire." He stands.

"I wasn't expecting that."

"You shouldn't." A faint smile finally returns to the old clerk's face.

"Unfortunately for you..." He gestures toward the closed report.

"... your quiet days as an anonymous adventurer have probably come to an end." The sun hangs low above the western wall by the time I return to Heartwood Grove and the thought follows me with. Warm light filters gently through the Silverwood's canopy, bathing the garden in shades of gold that soften every corner of the clearing. Somewhere nearby I hear the steady rhythm of Garrick splitting firewood while laughter drifts across the vegetable beds beyond the cottage. I follow the sound.

Eammon is sprinting across the grass with the Hollowmane cub in determined pursuit or perhaps the opposite. It will become increasingly difficult to tell. Every few strides the cub lunges toward the boy's boots before darting away again, its oversized paws carrying it just fast enough to avoid being caught while Eammon loudly insists he is "absolutely about to catch it this time."

"You've said that five times."

"I mean it this time!" The cub lets out a cheerful chirp before abruptly changing direction. Eammon follows and immediately trips over a tree root. The cub skids to a stop only a few paces away before cautiously walking back toward him. It lowers its head, gives the boy's shoulder a tentative nudge with its nose, then emits a questioning little rumble.

"I'm alright." Eammon pushes himself upright.

"I meant to do that."

"You always mean to fall over," Aine replies from the porch.

"I do not."

"You did yesterday."

"I slipped."

"You slipped because you were running."

"I was running because Garrick said I was slow."

"I said you were loud." Garrick doesn't even look up from the log resting beneath his axe. The cub looks from one child to the other before deciding this argument clearly requires its involvement. It bounds toward Aine instead, planting both forepaws against her knees.

"Oh..." She kneels immediately.

"I think it likes me now." The cub responds by enthusiastically licking her cheek.

"Eammon!" She laughs, trying unsuccessfully to avoid another affectionate assault.

"It definitely likes me."

"I let it like you."

"You don't get to decide that."

"I absolutely do."

"You absolutely don't." I find myself smiling before I even realize it. The sound of another axe splitting timber echoes across the clearing. Garrick glances toward me.

"You look better."

"I feel better."

"Good." He drives the axe cleanly through another log before stacking the halves neatly beside the chopping block.

"I'd rather not carry you back from the next contract."

"I appreciate the concern."

"It isn't concern. It's inconvenience."

"I suspected as much." He gives the faintest hint of a smile. Aibell steps out from behind the bushes carrying a large pot suspended carefully between both hands.

"Dinner." The single word somehow reaches every corner of the Grove. The children abandon their argument immediately. The cub abandons them both in favor of investigating whatever smells so interesting. Even Garrick finally sets the axe aside. We gather beneath the broad branches of the Silverwood where the evening breeze carries the scent of fresh bread, vegetable stew and herbs gathered from the Grove itself.

Conversation drifts easily from one subject to another while the children compete to describe the cub's increasingly dramatic exploits from the afternoon.

"It defeated a butterfly."

"It missed the butterfly."

"It was a tactical miss."

"It ran into a bush."

"The bush attacked first." The cub, entirely unconcerned by the discussion surrounding its abilities, has already curled itself comfortably beside my chair while working determinedly through a bowl of scraps Aibel quietly prepared without anyone asking. Home. The thought arrives so naturally that I scarcely notice it. The people, the laughter, the quiet certainty that tomorrow will begin right here. After the meal, twilight settles gently across the Grove.

Eammon and Aine sit together beneath the Silverwood, taking turns absentmindedly scratching behind the cub's rounded ears while it sprawls happily across the grass with every appearance of having lived here its entire life. Ciara watches them for a long moment before smiling softly.

"It suits the Grove."

"It does," Aibel agrees. Neither of them says anything else for a while. The Silverwood whispers quietly overhead. Leaves shimmer against the fading evening sky. Finally, Ciara breaks the comfortable silence.

"You know..." She glances first toward me.

"The Grove chose you." Her eyes settle briefly upon Garrick.

"It chose him." A faint laugh escapes her.

"Looks like it forgot the rest of us." Aibell smiles.

"I was beginning to think the same thing." I shake my head.

"I don't think the Grove-" Rapid footsteps interrupt me. One of the guards assigned to the outer gate hurries beneath the canopy, breathing noticeably harder than when I saw him earlier that afternoon. He slows only long enough to offer a quick bow.

"Lord Grovekeeper." I rise immediately.

"What happened?"

"Nothing inside the Grove." Relief flickers briefly through everyone gathered beneath the tree. The guard continues.

"There's someone waiting outside the garden gate."

"Who?"

"He wouldn't give his name." The guard hesitates.

"He only said..." His eyes meet mine.

"... that the Grovekeeper would want to hear what he has to say." Silence settles beneath the Silverwood. I exchange a brief glance with Garrick. Above us, the Silverwood's leaves stir softly in a breeze I cannot feel. At that time I did not know, my actions within the falls of Fallowspire, had already reached outwards and something beyond these walls had found its way back to the Heartwood Grove.