The remainder of the journey to Michford seemed to pass quickly.

Clay tried to tell himself that it was the simple lack of any other pressing responsibilities. It could have been the fact that they managed to walk the entire time without being assaulted by a downpour, or perhaps the fact that he was going to see friends he had been missing. He might have even been able to say that it was just the chance to walk in peace through the forest, enjoying the birdsong and rustling of wildlife in the underbrush after fighting in the barrens caused by a Lair for so long.

Still, the truth of the matter was that it passed quickly because he was finally able to spend time alone with Olivia again. They could talk about her theories about the book she carried and discuss their strategy for handling the King going forward without provoking rumors. He could make her laugh without threatening the fierce, unyielding mask she was showing the rest of the world, and she could tease him without fear of provoking a scandalous look.

Of course, the kissing was nice as well. As was the chance to wake up next to her every morning. Clay hadn't felt nearly as well rested in a while, not even in the manor house at Glanwood.

Still, all good things had to come to an end. They arrived, with a peculiar feeling of reluctance, in the town of Michford just after midday.

The town was far larger than Clay had been expecting. It wasn't nearly the sprawling size of Crownsguard, but it was still almost twice the size of Pellsglade, even after his home had started expanding. Before the influx of new residents, Clay would have wagered that Pellsglade would have been nearly four times smaller. Buildings were clustered together beside the broad river that formed the town's eastern border, and a weathered stone bridge connected the place to the opposite shore.

Also unlike Pellsglade, Michford had a wall, one that surrounded the town and provided a definite border between the town and its surrounding farms in the countryside. It was made of wood, not stone, but Clay could see soldiers moving on the wall top, and a watchtower built further in, near the manor house. Even if it looked better protected than Pellsglade had ever been, it seemed like this place did not feel nearly as much at ease.

His suspicions were confirmed as they drew closer to the western gates of the town. There was a pair of [Guards] loitering in the gateway. They lounged against the wall, but as Clay and Olivia drew closer, they straightened up and brought their spears in line. The larger of them stepped forward, his voice gruff. "Who are you, and what is your purpose in Michford?"

Clay glanced at Olivia before he responded. She already had her mask up, and her emerald eyes could have been chips of glass as she studied the men. He restrained a sigh. "I am Clay Evergreen. I'm here on a mission from the Guild of Adventurers."

The [Guard] blinked. He glanced at his companion before looking back at Clay. "Evergreen? You mean, Sir Clay, the Commoner Hero?" When Clay nodded, the man continued. "We thought that there would be more of you. Are there others that are still on the road?"

He shook his head. "No. It's just me and my companion." When the [Guard] continued to hesitate, he continued in an even voice. "Are the others from the Guild here? Sir Charles? Syr Enessa?"

The other [Guard] nodded. "Yes, Sir. They are still out scouting right now, but they should be—"

He cut off as the first [Guard] made a shushing sound. Clay restrained a smile as the soldier looked back at him. "Do you have any identification, Sir? I don't mean to pry, but there's been bandits and Rogues about. We can't be too careful."

Clay considered it for a moment, and then nodded. He produced the most recent letter from the Guild, pointing to the seal that they had stamped on it. The [Guard] looked it over for a moment, hemming and hawing over whether it looked authentic. Then he unbent enough to send his companion running to alert the Count that a new pair of heroes had arrived.

They waited in silence for the message to be delivered. Clay tried not to tap his foot as he watched the sun start to slip away from its zenith in the sky. If his friends were already out hunting, he needed to join them. Charles and Enessa and the others were decent enough trackers, but they'd be hopeless compared to him, and he…

His thoughts trailed off as a small retinue of [Guards] trotted down the road inside Michford, a well-dressed man at their head. Clay stepped forward as they drew close, watching for any sign of unpleasantness.

Fortunately, it seemed like the man leading them had no quarrel with him. He strode up to Clay and extended his hand, a smile on his face. "Sir Clay? I am Count Michford. Welcome to my town."

Clay shook the [Noble]'s hand, careful to restrain his own strength. He didn't want to break any bones, after all, and the man didn't exactly look like he'd been fighting back hordes of monsters in his free time. "Thank you, Count Michford. I was sent by the Guild to help the adventurers already here. When do you expect them back?"

"Within the hour, Sir Clay." Count Michford took a step to the side and gestured for Clay to accompany him into the town. "If you follow me, I can offer you accommodations until they return. For you and your… companion."

Michford frowned at Olivia for a moment, as if trying to place her. Olivia just looked back at him, the design on her scarf making her look more like a vicious beast than a hero. Some of the [Guards] shifted uneasily, clearly not knowing quite how to react.

Clay spoke up before things could go south. "Again, you have my thanks, Count." Michford looked back at him, and Clay started heading into the town, careful to keep his stride relaxed and measured. "While we wait, what do you know about these bandits?"

The Count fell in on Clay's left side while Olivia stalked along to his right. He saw the [Noble] shake his head. "They are frustratingly elusive, honestly. They've been here for nearly six months, maybe more, and they raid caravans and farms regularly. We've lost several people to them, and they're fond of holding hostages for ransom to supplement their other activities."

He grimaced at the news. If they were holding hostages now… "How many are there? I believe the Guild mentioned Rogues as well."

"At least thirty. Maybe forty." The [Noble] gave him a grim smile as Clay looked at him. "Not all of them are Rogues, of course. Most are just the usual miscreants that band together when someone starts stirring up trouble. Normally I can disperse them before they get too far with their plans, but this time…"

The [Noble] sighed and made a hopeless gesture. "There are at least eight Rogues, all of different [Classes]. Some are [Knaves], some [Burglars], and there are at least two who can use magic. I'm not sure what level they are, but they are high enough that I have little hope of confronting them."

Clay grunted in sympathy. Eight Rogues were more than he'd expected; even the gang he'd arrested in Crownsguard hadn't had more than a half dozen or so. He almost wondered why the Guild was ignoring the situation, only to suddenly remember that they hadn't. His friends had been here for a month at least, and they still weren't apparently any closer to finding them.

While he thought the situation over, Olivia spoke up, her voice one step above a low growl. "Have the adventurers fought them at all? Do you know who is sponsoring the bandits?"

Michford blinked. He studied Olivia with new interest for a moment before responding. "Sir Charles and the others have unfortunately not been able to make contact with them, no. As for who might be providing them support…" The [Noble] shrugged. "I have my share of enemies, both among our own nobility and on the other side of the border. I'm afraid that there are too many culprits to be sure."

The response made Clay blink in surprise. What could possess a [Noble] to support a bandit? He almost opened his mouth to ask, but Olivia laid a quiet hand on his arm before he could. She spoke again. "You must have suspicions, my lord. Even if you aren't sure, it may be of some help."

The [Noble] hesitated for a moment longer. Then he sighed. "I'll admit, I have suspected some of my opponents of doing this. Baroness Gorton wouldn't hesitate to use a few bandits to make my life interesting, and Count Wilfast and I have a longstanding feud. He wouldn't be above this either."

Then he shook his head. "All the same, I think that a band this size would be too expensive for either of them. Besides, more than a few of the caravans passing through would have brought trade and goods to their domains. If I had to make my guess, the bandits are being funded by someone from Terrasen."

Clay gave him a sharp look. "Terrasen?"

Michford nodded. "The more chaos they can spread here, the better it would be if things came to a conflict here. I haven't seen any signs of an army on their side of the border, but if there was one, they'd have to cross here to reach the rest of the kingdom. That means weakening us would be a priority."

Olivia muttered something under her breath, and Clay gave her a quick look. "I see." If there were other kingdoms involved, it meant they had to be especially careful over the next few days. His encounters with the assassins from Merarbor had left their mark in more ways than one; the scar across his chest still ached often enough to remind him the price of taking things too casually, especially with adventurers.

He looked to the east, sudden anxiety filling him. His friends were out there, facing an unknown number of adventurers and more. The sooner he got out there to join them, the better.

"I must say, I've been looking forward to meeting you, Sir Clay." Michford smiled when Clay looked back at him. "There have been quite a few stories about you, lately. The minstrels and bards seem to never tire of your exploits."

Clay grimaced, and he heard Olivia snort beneath her scarf. "I'm sure they are mostly overblown, Lord Michford."

The [Noble]'s lips quirked, and he hid what might have been a smile behind his hand as he coughed. "Perhaps, Sir Clay. However, I've also been hearing plenty of tales from Syr Enessa and the others." Clay felt a sudden stab of concern as the man openly started to smile. He heard Olivia snicker a little under her scarf. "Tell me, was it really true what they said about the pig and the—"

Clay hadn't quite finished dying of embarrassment when he looked to the east and saw a familiar batch of adventurers striding across the bridge. He latched onto the sight like a dying man clinging to life. "I think that's them, Count Michford. If you'll excuse me?"

The [Noble] nodded, still smiling, and the [Guards] were clearly trying to hide their own grins as Clay sped up. Olivia kept pace with him easily, even if she was still giggling quietly. He gave her a glare as they broke into a jog, but her emerald eyes just sparkled at him in amusement.

He made it most of the way down the street before the others noticed him. Clay saw George suddenly straighten up and point at him. Then he heard Enessa shout. A moment later, they had broken into a run towards him. Townsfolk scattered and cleared the way as the distance between him and his friends vanished at a startling pace.

It was Enessa that got to him first, much to his chagrin. His childhood friend was sprinting flat out, outpacing the others by a good margin. Clay felt a tremor of worry as she bore down on him; the last time they'd met, her [Might] and [Fortitude] had grown considerably, and even with his own levels, it looked like she had outpaced him in those [Stats] by a wide margin. She caught him up in a tackle that nearly took him off his feet; the [Fighter] then proceeded to nearly squeeze the breath out of him while he laughed. "Clay! You're here at last!"

She set him down, just in time for George to nearly knock him off his feet with a slap on the shoulder. The [Dragoon] still carried a massive spear on his shoulder, though it looked far more well-used than before. His armor was a little more worn as well, though he was still grinning. "About time! Have you been having too much fun, or did you somehow get lost on the way here?"

Ned snorted, shaking Clay by the shoulder. The [Dark Knight] had his axe over his own shoulder, a fact that gave Clay an unfortunate flashback to the assassin that had nearly killed him just a few weeks ago. The man didn't appear to notice, however, as he looked back at George. "If he got lost, then we really are hopeless. I mean, he is supposed to be our tracker, right?"

"I certainly hope so." Charles, with a grin so wide it nearly split his face, stepped forward and gave Clay a hug that was nearly as crushing as Enessa's. The son of Baron Pellsglade seemed to have grown just as much as the others, in ways that showed. His broad frame appeared to fit much better into his armor, and he carried both sword and shield with an easy familiarity. "You look well, Sir Clay. I'm glad to hear it."

Enessa nodded quickly. "We heard you'd been wounded. What happened? Did some creature manage to get to you?"

Ned grunted. "If it did, we're definitely going to need to watch out for it. Then again, we'll probably heal a lot quicker. Won't we Maribel?"

The [Mage] of the group had hung back from the initial greetings. She was studying Olivia with narrowed eyes, a stare that Olivia was returning as well. Clay felt the sudden need to edge his way between the two women, though he didn't know if that would help or make things worse. When Maribel spoke up, her voice carried an undeniable edge to it. "That's true. After all, I healed him back to normal before. Maybe I might have kept him from getting hurt in the first place."

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Olivia's head tilted slightly. If her smile had been visible, it would not have been a kind one. "Perhaps. Or maybe you would have gotten him killed. Who can say?"

He exchanged a look with Charles, who suddenly looked rather worried. The [Paladin] spoke before either woman could say anything further. "In any case, we need your help. I'm sure Count Michford has told you about the situation?"

Clay nodded, perhaps with a bit more urgency than was needed. "Yeah. He told me about the bandits. You still haven't found any sign?"

Charles shook his head, and Enessa grimaced. "They've been hiding a little too well from us. The closest we've gotten have been a few times we've run across a warm ashpit."

George nodded. "I still say they've got someone here in town watching out for them. They always seem to know when we are out there."

Ned grumbled something under his breath. "At least they're still running from us." Clay gave him a curious look, and the [Dark Knight] shrugged. "If they were strong enough to take us on, they probably could have by now."

Clay cracked a grin. "So, if they aren't comfortable with an ambush, they aren't that strong?"

Charles shrugged, scratching at the back of his head. "That's what we're hoping, at least. The people who've seen them haven't been able to give us a very good idea about their strength, beyond the usual intimidation tactics." He glanced back along the road they had just left. "We were actually just going to pick up some food and head out again. There's a caravan that asked for an escort, and we're going to give them one."

He nodded. "All right then. Let us drop off our tents at the manor, and then we'll join you." Clay couldn't help but smile. "These bandits may have had it easy, but we'll show them what facing all the heroes of Pellsglade will feel like."

"You're kidding. Level nineteen?" Enessa's voice was a mixture of surprise and outrage. "What have you been doing out there, and why didn't you invite the rest of us?"

Clay couldn't help but smirk at her. They were walking along one of the roads that led east, looking for signs of the bandits. "What? Are you fancy folks not quite to that point yet?"

Charles snorted. He gave Clay a patient look. "Not quite, no." The [Paladin] looked around at the rest of their group. "I'd say the strongest of us is probably around level twelve. Unless anyone else here is holding out on me?"

Ned grunted. "The highest level, maybe, but we all know I'm the strongest." He affected an exaggerated swagger, the axe still laid back across his shoulder.

It lasted until George smacked him upside the head. "If that's so, then why do we keep having to rescue you?"

The [Dark Knight] tried to put his cousin in a headlock, growling. "As if you're one to talk. Remember what happened at that last Lair?"

Clay looked at Charles, who grinned. "We've hit two of them, actually, in between all the rest of our missions. Both about the same as what you faced in the Tanglewood, but we obviously couldn't knock them out entirely."

Enessa grimaced. "Yeah. Frensfeld said they'd probably both be back in a year or two. Not looking forward to having to go back to fight them again."

George paused in his efforts to strangle his cousin. "What, you don't want to become the Bunny Killer again, Enessa?"

The [Fighter] gave him a glare that could have burned the paint off a barn wall. "They were rabbitfolk, thank you very much. Not bunnies."

Clay was having a hard time keeping a straight face. "Rabbitfolk?"

Charles nodded. "Not as fun as they sound, actually. Lots of arrows and knives." He grimaced. "The Guardians weren't all that much fun, either. We were lucky to have Maribel at the time."

The [Mage] glanced over at hearing the mention of her name. She had spent most of their walk sulking, for some reason, ever since she'd asked him if he knew of any more [Chants] she could use. He'd told her to ask Olivia, since she was the expert, and had gone about getting ready to go on their patrol.

Now, however, Maribel just nodded. "That's true, though I think that Sir Frensfeld was the real key to our success." She smiled at Olivia. "He was doing a wonderful job leading us, at least until he was recalled to the capital. The Council had a mission for him, apparently."

Clay winced. "Yeah, I saw him, actually. In Pellsglade." A ripple of surprise went through the group, and he continued in a cautious tone. "The Council had actually sent him along with Syr Marissa to talk with me. I think the King might have asked him as well."

Ned made a low whistle, finally letting George loose. "You're kidding! Why'd they do a thing like that? Did something happen?"

He frowned, exchanging a look with Olivia. "You mean… you haven't heard yet? Weren't you getting letters from home?"

Charles answered for them. "We haven't had any for a while. The Council has had us moving around a lot, and they might have gotten a bit lost." He looked at the others, worry starting to fill their faces. "Why? What happened in Pellsglade?"

Olivia snorted. When Clay gave her a reproachful look, she shrugged. "Technically, it didn't happen in Pellsglade. At least, most of it didn't."

Enessa was frowning now, and her eyes were more worried than Clay had expected. "Are my mom and dad all right? Another Lair didn't open up near the village, did it?"

Clay looked around, wondering how to phrase things. "They are fine, Enessa. It's just…" He chuckled. "When we were in Janburg, dealing with the Lair there…"

The story went on for a while. By the end of it, he had all of the adventurers staring at him in clear shock, their mouths hanging open. Enessa was the first one to recover. "You're telling me my mom is level five?"

"Both of your parents are." Olivia nodded. "In fact, just about everyone's parents are at level five or higher now. Except for you, Sir Charles. Your father is about the same level you are."

The news appeared to shove Charles even further off balance. "You're joking." He put a hand over his eyes and started to laugh. "All that hard work, and he's still not that far behind."

Maribel was still looking thunderstruck. "My parents are level five now? But… they're [Commoners]…"

Her voice faded away, and Charles gestured to Clay and Olivia. "I'm not sure how much that means these days." Then his eyes narrowed. "Wait. You didn't get those weapons from the Guild, did you?"

Clay blinked as the others abruptly focused a bit more heavily on his equipment. He tried to put things cautiously. "David… might have been there, too. He's learned a few new things."

"I can't believe this." Maribel sounded almost outraged, even as Charles began another round of incredulous laughter. She looked around at the other adventurers. "How could they have gone into a Lair? Didn't they know the risk?"

Olivia's voice was laced with irony. "Apparently, Clay is something of a bad influence. He led the whole lot of them in." Maribel glared at her for a moment, but before she could say anything else, Ned spoke up.

"Wait, so if they're level five…" He looked back at Clay and grinned. "No wonder the Guild paid you a visit. They must be a little nervous about a village full of people who can use combat [Chants], huh?"

Clay nodded. "True. There was some… discussion about how to handle things." Some of the humor drained away from their expressions, and he continued in a hurried voice. "We got everything worked out. Nobody is going to mess with the village, and Baron Pellsglade is still in control. There are a few other [Commoners] who are helping to fight monsters, though, so don't be surprised if you run across a few of them."

"We actually just helped Lana destroy a Lair a few days ago." Olivia mentioned it with a casual look at Maribel, whose face suddenly went pale with shock. "She's around level twelve, too."

Enessa slammed a fist into her palm, her eyes blazing. "All right, Clay, that's enough. I want to hear every single thing you've been up to, right from the top. Understand? Don't leave anything out, or I'm going to do my best to get to the next level by pummeling you into the dirt!"

The threat was delivered in a half-serious tone, and Clay laughed. He nodded. "Sure, sure, all right." It took him a moment to find a good place to start, especially since he couldn't quite include everything. They only had so much road to walk, after all.

"And then Maribel had to heal Frensfeld up again because Ned swung a little too hard, and—"

"That wasn't my fault! He should have kept a little further back!"

Ned's indignant defense fell on mostly deaf ears as George continued. They had been exchanging stories of their adventures for the past hour or two. Charles and Ned had told about a Lair of rabbitfolk and another of tree monsters that the others had fought. Enessa had told him the story of their efforts to rescue a [Noble] from a Rogue that was trying to hold them hostage. Maribel hadn't contributed much, though she had mentioned the various [Nobles] that had offered them rewards.

For his part, George had mostly been describing the various misadventures the others had gotten themselves into, especially Ned. The [Dark Knight] was growing more and more irate at the unfair treatment, but his cousin showed no sign of letting up anytime soon.

Clay had been smiling the entire time, even after explaining everything from his mission with the Ruffians in Rodcliff, to the attack on the Dungeon in Sarlsboro and the destruction of the Lairs at Janburg and Glanwood. He'd conveniently left out some of the politics involved—he certainly hadn't mentioned the King's invitation, or the Guild's constant efforts to hobble him—but he'd given them enough of an idea. Enessa had only shaken her head and remarked that he was getting capable of causing more and more trouble lately; Charles had just made him promise to call them if he got himself in more trouble than he could handle.

All in all, he was now walking along with his old friends, the feeling of warmth filling his heart despite the occasional gust of autumnal wind. The caravan that they had been sent to protect was probably only a little further up the road, and once they saw them back to Michford safely, they could get on with the business of tracking down the bandits.

He was still listening to George recount the tale of how Ned had managed to nearly get himself squished by 'the biggest rabbit he'd ever seen', when Olivia suddenly went stiff next to him. He looked over at her instantly and saw that her gaze was fixed on the treeline. "Smoke."

The single word cut George's story off without the need to shout. In a moment, the entirety of the group had their weapons at the ready. Charles' eyes followed Olivia's gaze, searching the sky for signs of smoke. "Are you sure? I don't see—"

Olivia took off running, her skills and bonuses lending an impressive amount of speed to her pace. Clay hesitated for only a moment before running after her, his own abilities allowing him to catch her just as she reached the treeline. She glanced at him for just a moment, but they didn't exchange any words as they continued to sprint, weaving their way between underbrush and tree trunks as they headed for the spot where a faint smudge of black and grey had colored the autumn sky.

With any luck, it would be a campfire left behind by some traveler, or the remnants of a torch that someone might have lit to test it. Even as he tried to convince himself, however, Clay knew the truth. No traveler would be lighting fires at this point in the afternoon, not with plenty of daylight left.

His fears were confirmed a few minutes later as they burst out of the forest and back onto the road.

The smoke had been exactly what he'd feared. His eyes were greeted with the remnants of the caravan, a half-dozen carts that were scattered and upended across the dirt of the road. None of them had fully caught fire—otherwise the smoke would have been much greater—but several of them had charring where magic or torches had burnt the wood, and others had been knocked on their sides, with the shattered remains of the boxes that had been inside spilling out into the dirt.

Yet it wasn't the carts that caught Clay's attention. He'd seen ruins and broken homes before. What was different, this time, was the fact that there were bodies.

There were bodies on the road, wearing clothes that marked them as simple [Commoners]. Some had been wearing the armor and weapons of [Guards], and others looked like they had raised swords or hammers in defense of the caravan. It looked like they had been traveling along the road, and then had been hit by an ambush from the forest. Whatever resistance they'd offered had crumbled quickly.

The sight of those corpses shocked him, more than he'd thought they would. It wasn't that he hadn't seen death; some of the assassins had died right in front of him, and the monsters he'd fought had left plenty of empty homes and incomplete families behind. They never left the bodies, however, aside from those who'd been consumed by the formation of a Lair. To see people left here, dead, in the open, seemed almost… wasteful to him. Like their murderers had been too careless to do things properly. He did not know why, but the sight of it was infuriating.

Olivia darted forward, already searching for signs of life. Clay grimaced, moving a little slower. He didn't think the bandits would have stuck around, but he couldn't ignore the possibility that they would have laid a second ambush for anyone coming to the caravan's aid. With wary eyes, he watched the opposite treeline, trying to see any sign of waiting enemies there. The fact that he couldn't find them with his ethereal senses seemed to be a terrible weakness now, even as he walked through the wreckage.

The others arrived a handful of minutes later, breathing hard and with weapons ready. Their expressions showed shock, disgust, and anger as they realized what was waiting for them. None of them wasted any time with words, however. They just joined Clay and Olivia to look for signs that someone had escaped the ambush.

It didn't take long to determine that no one was alive in the midst of those broken carts. The entire caravan had been thoroughly looted, with not even a single coin or bag of food left behind. There were even signs that the bandits had taken the time to rifle through the pockets of the fallen, though apparently their weapons hadn't been worth taking.

Another thing that the bandits hadn't bothered stealing was the horses. None of the bandits appeared to have ridden away from the ambush; all of them had been on foot. Those animals who had been with the caravan had been scattered, sent running off into the wilds without any attempt to catch them. Some of the bandits had even killed a pair of horses, blasting them along with their riders. It was another sign of their wastefulness. Who butchered a perfectly good horse?

The evidence of such callous, wasteful brutality galled him as they searched. It was as if the entire thing had been a chore that they'd needed to attend to, like planting a row of wheat or milking the cows, only the Rogues had done it so negligently that they almost seemed to believe it was beneath them. As if the murder of these people was just some disdainful necessity, not even worth their real attention.

As their hopeless, desperate search came to an end, Clay found himself staring into the forest with his fists clenched at his side so tight that his fingers ached.

Charles stepped up next to him, his voice quiet. "We need to report this to the Count. He'll be able to send out [Guards] to help look."

Clay glanced at his friend. His voice came out in a growl. "Go. I'll get started here."

The [Paladin] gave him a considering look. "Can you track them? We've tried, but the traces never go anywhere."

"Only one way to find out." He looked back at the destroyed caravan and grimaced. "I'll meet you here when I find something."

Charles looked skeptical. "You won't go in by yourself?"

Clay shook his head, but Charles seemed unconvinced. "Give me your word, Clay. Promise me."

Despite the anger burning in him, Clay forced a smile. "You think I'm that stupid, Charles?"

The [Paladin] tilted his head to the side. A crooked smile appeared for a heartbeat before it vanished again. "I remember too many times when we were young for me to answer that honestly." Then he paused. "And, of course, there was that time in the Tanglewood…"

Clay frowned. "I didn't have a choice, then."

"This time you'll need to." Charles folded his arms. "Promise."

He grimaced. "Fine. I promise I won't attack the bandits without you." Charles nodded and stepped away to collect the others.

While the adventurers were distracted, Olivia slid over next to him. "You should have said you wouldn't do it alone. Then we could have done it together."

Clay eyed her for a moment. "That seems like it wouldn't have been very honest."

"True enough." The admission didn't seem to bother her in the least. She looked back to the caravan, and her expression behind her scarf grew terribly angry. "I'll stay here. Get started on the burials."

Then she looked back at him. "I know you already promised Charles, but I'll just remind you what happened last time you went up against a group of adventurers. Even when they were all a lot weaker than you individually."

He gave her an irritated look. "I did already give my word. You don't have to beat me over the head, Olivia."

She snorted softly. "I don't have to, true. Reminders can be helpful, however." Olivia started to turn away. Then she paused and put a hand on his shoulder. "Find them, Clay. All of them. I don't think the bandits left alone."

Clay froze for a moment. He'd suspected, since hostages had been mentioned before. The number of footprints on the road had lent that theory more credence, even if he hadn't been able to confirm it yet. Then he nodded. "I will."

Olivia watched him for another moment. Then her eyes softened, and she tugged the scarf down enough to give him a kiss on the cheek. Her cheeks were red as she drew back. "For luck, Sir Clay."

Then she raised the scarf again, and her mask of ferocity reappeared. He smiled at her as she stepped back.

As he turned to the forest, however, the smile faded away. He had work to do, and fury drove him as he made his way into the wild, in search of the human monsters that were responsible for the deaths behind him. His jaw clenched as he ran, the trees blurring around him as he started a new hunt.

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