Darkness had fully fallen over the forest, blanketing the trees in a hush. The campfire had been reduced to glowing embers. Crickets sang their high-pitched rhythm in the underbrush, and above them, the branches creaked softly in the cool night wind.

Weylan had taken the second watch, paired with Ulmenglanz.

Quite bored, he started a whispered conversation, without stopping to constantly scan the surrounding area. "Say, did you ever hear about a bearbelt viper before?"

"I've heard stories. They're said to coil around large furred animals like woodland bears and travel with them. They take their share of everything the bear kills. If the bear tries to get rid of the viper, it gets bitten and dies. Therefore, most bears instinctively avoid angering their passenger. It's not just a one-sided relationship, though. If something attacks the bear, the viper defends him. There are few monsters that attack a fully grown bear, but almost none that dare attack one that carries one or more vipers. Sometimes the bear leaves a snake at their den to defend the cubs."

Weylan imagined a nest of bear cubs with the furry viper nestled in between and smiled.

The conversation faded to silence. Ulmenglanz stood unmoving, her eyes reflected the moonlight as she scanned the woods. Twice, she placed her hand flat on the earth. Both times, her expression darkened.

"Something wrong?" Weylan asked.

She only shook her head. "Someone walks out there, but the trees will not tell me who."

When the hour turned and the shift changed, Mirabelle and Alina approached and greeted them with a quiet nod. Mirabelle's eyes were sharp despite the dark circles beneath them, her grip firm on her quarterstaff. The dryad and assassin exchanged a glance before parting ways. To him it seemed nature finally caught up with Mirabelle, since she at last seemed as tired as everyone else.

Weylan paused at the edge of the clearing, feeling the air stir. Leaves rustled without wind. Then faint flutter beside him.

Selvara landed silently on his shoulder, her voice barely audible. "Our pursuer is back."

His pulse quickened. "Where?"

"In the underbrush, between the trees to your right. Twenty steps out."

Weylan gave no sign he'd heard her. He simply patted his familiar like a tired camper settling down. Then, yawning for show, he turned back toward his tent. Ulmenglanz had just begun ducking into her own tent when he caught her eye and flicked his fingers in a practiced signal. She blinked once, then followed him without a word.

Inside the cramped canvas space, Weylan wrestled with the rear laces until he loosened the flap. He slipped out on his belly, shadows swallowing his movements. The dryad followed in absolute silence, gliding behind him like a whisper.

They crept along the treeline, then angled outward, circling to the location Selvara had indicated. A chill hung in the air, heavy with moisture and the scent of pine. Somewhere in the distance, a lone owl cried.

Weylan spotted movement first: a squat shape, half-crouched beneath a thick fern. It blended almost perfectly with the moss and bark. But Ulmenglanz was already tensing beside him. She nudged him forward, a sharp glint in her eyes.

Weylan rose in a crouch and took three quick, silent steps. The target spun, dagger half-drawn, but Ulmenglanz was faster. She smacked his wrist with a dry branch she'd picked up, sending the blade clattering into the leaves. Weylan's shortsword pressed to the intruder's throat before he could recover.

"Don't move," Weylan growled.

Now that they were closer, they got a good look: a goblin, clad in dark green leathers and a hooded cloak, clearly some kind of ranger or scout. He had a bow and quiver slung over his back.

At Weylan's signal, the camp was roused with a few sharp calls. Within minutes, bleary-eyed students surrounded the captured goblin, weapons at the ready.

The goblin squirmed, eyes darting from face to face. "Don't kill Drundrin! Drundrin good goblin!"

Weylan gave his best to look intimidating. "Who are you… well, obviously Drundrin, but why are you here?"

"Drundrin…", he paused then continued faster. "… follow book. Yes. Follow book" He pointed at first Faya, then his finger continued to Alina. "Her! Took book from holy book place!"

Mirabelle chuckled. "Seems they actually do send assassins after book thieves."

"No! Not assassin. Drundrin just want steal book. Bring back."

Weylan glared at him, not believing a word. "What's the holy book place called?"

The goblin looked at him for a moment, then answered. "Bookhalla!"

"Who's the librarian?"

"Guy with glasses?"

Weylan drew his shortsword. "Give me his name."

"Hans? Galen? Don't know. Always call Guy-with-glasses."

"The librarian doesn't even wear glasses." Weylan's voice got harder.

"He should! Reading bad for eyes." Now the goblin was sweating.

Weylan turned to the others. "He's not a book-goblin. They are pale from lack of sunlight. This one is tanned and his hands have more calluses."

He saw nodding faces and grim expressions. He turned back to the goblin, only to see him pulling something from his belt and flicking it to the ground.

There was a blinding flash of white light seared across their vision, followed by disoriented cries. When their eyes cleared, the goblin was gone. Only the rope he escaped from, his dropped dagger and a smoldering patch of moss remained.

"Damn," Erik muttered, rubbing his temples.

Silvea strode up from her bedroll, her braid swinging like a whip. "What in the three flaming forests is going on? Why did nobody wake me?"

Weylan sheathed his sword with a sigh. "We caught an intruder. A goblin trying to spy on us. There might be more nearby."

Silvea looked toward the forest, then turned back to the group. "Double the watch. We're not alone out here."

Mirabelle muttered, "We're attracting more attention than a wandering circus."

"Then maybe it's time we learned to juggle," Weylan said grimly, staring into the trees.

The darkness beyond the campfire seemed thicker than before. And now they knew they weren't alone in the woods.

* * *

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Weylan made a circuit around the camp to check for other scouts or intruders. He found none, but since the goblin scout seemed to have been much better in woodcraft than him, probably all goblins were, he wasn't confident in his assessment. He was confident in the ward of Lieselotte. Whatever could stop an ancient scourge would be able to keep out some lowly goblins.

He greeted other students returning to their tents for the short nap until sunrise. As he made his way back, he nodded to fellow students returning to their tents for a few hours of rest before sunrise. He recognized most by name and all by sight… except one. A lanky figure in oversized robes who tried suspiciously to stay out of sight while entering a tent.

"Hey!" Weylan called. "New face? Who are you? How did I miss you all this time?"

The man froze, turned slowly, and rubbed the back of his neck. His short blond hair and face was vaguely familiar, but everything else was… off. He glanced around, clearly considering escape, then exhaled. "It's me. Kane."

Weylan blinked. Same face, same robe… but gone were the slabs of muscle that usually made Kane look like a walking siege engine. He just stared, speechless.

Kane sighed. "I'm not naturally that strong. It's all alchemical. My feats focus on amplifying potion effects on myself. Strength, endurance, the works. But even my body needs rest."

"So, you didn't dump all your attribute points into Strength?"

"Nah. Constitution build. I need it just to survive the side effects of all those potions. My base Strength is ten."

Weylan eyed him up and down. "That doesn't look like average strength."

"Yeah," Kane said, rubbing his arm. "Residual feedback from recovery. It's only temporary. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone."

"I can keep a secret." Weylan nodded and turned away, leaving the alchemist to his recovery.

* * *

He looked after the priestesses next. Faya seemed torn between fright and anger. Weylan managed to calm her with a few gentle words. After a pause, she handed him the small carrying pouch containing the verdant hare.

"Keep him safe tonight," she whispered, then slipped into her tent without another word. She obviously assumed the hare would be safer with Weylan.

<Hello Weylan. Interesting trip so far. I've identified several bug species and some of the local flora. Fascinating.>

Weylan stepped away from the tents, heading toward the treeline. There, in a patch of soft grass, he gently set the hare down to graze. Once he was sure no one was watching, he crouched beside the creature, touched it and murmured under his breath. "Anything worth collecting? Alchemical ingredients and stuff?"

<Not in terms of alchemy, no. But it's been educational.>

Weylan nodded slowly. "How are things back at the dungeon?"

<Pretty quiet. Well, except that Trulda declared war on the brotherhood…>

"She did what?"

<They send some local thugs after her. That really annoyed her. Using citizens like that is completely irresponsible and lazy.>

"How many brotherhood members did she send to respawn?"

<Surprisingly none. Yet. She screamed something about directing her rage to something much more agonizing than mere physical pain. She's been pestering the city council and the Adventurers Guild leadership for changes in 'zoning regulations' and 'drinking water protection areas. I didn't quite get what she meant to be honest. Seems in her time in the other world, she's been in something called a home-owner association, which is formed when several people own flats inside the same building. Strange concept that. And she was a member in several clubs with cutthroat internal politics. One was called an allotment garden association. Seems they regularly almost maimed each other over quarrels about flower arrangements and lawn mowing rules. She has vowed to use her experience to make the brotherhood's life hell. She mentioned something about that they did not get the correct building permits for their projects and so weren't protected from zoning changes. She sounds quite vicious. And she has contacted William and your master for help.>

"Well, try to inform me if I can help, but since we're stuck in the woods and far away from Mulnirsheim…"

<That will not be necessary.>

"Could you sense anything that explains our expedition with your magical perception?"

<Not yet. There's a dense web of mana lines throughout the area. Active, but nothing that stands out. I'll keep monitoring. If something shifts, I'll let you know. I don't sleep and I can scan it's surrounding even if my conduit sleeps. I don't have any means to warn you, if I detect danger though.>

"Thanks," Weylan whispered, giving the hare a gentle pat.

The forest remained still, the stars overhead untouched by the quiet conversation taking place beneath them.

Selvara swooped down from a tree and had her own private talk with the dungeon heart. Then she flew over to Weylan's shoulder. "Should I try to keep an eye out for the goblin?"

Weylan thought about it, then shook his head. "The priestesses ward seems to have prevented him from entering, it probably will do so again. Better try to spy on Lyriel and the other revenants. I have a feeling they're going to try something. Whatever it is, they're not likely to take our safety into consideration."

Selvara cawed affirmation and flew away.

* * *

Weylan was in an especially active mood. It just felt right to for once make decisions, instead of just reacting to other people.

While the others sorted out the increased guard schedule or returned to their tents, he used the moment to slip away from the others. Silvea Eastramble knelt by the gnarled root of an ancient tree, studying the moss for footprints.

"Lady Eastramble," he began, voice low.

She glanced up, her expression tired but not unfriendly. "Call me Silvea. It's bad enough that I'm leading this circus. At least talk to me like a normal person."

"Silvea," he said again, nodding, "shouldn't we turn back? Now that we know goblins are active here? I've heard even trained patrols have trouble with them."

She stood slowly, brushing dirt from her hands. Her gaze cut into him like a blade. "Kaelthorne said you're already level seven. Is that true?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Then you've seen your share of danger. More importantly, do you know how to keep your mouth shut?"

"I do."

"Good," she muttered, glancing at the treetops before continuing. "We should never have left the academy. That much is true. But we didn't have a choice. We need something and the only place to get it is out here."

"What kind of something?" Weylan asked, narrowing his eyes.

"A gift. Something even the Goblin Queen can't obtain herself. We have a tentative peace treaty with the Goblin Empire. They won't send more than a few scouts south of the academy, but to finalize the agreement, we have to offer her something she'll value more than conquering the entire Wildewood."

Weylan frowned. "I don't like to suggest it, but couldn't an army of revenants push them back?"

"We've repelled goblin invasions several times. Caused horrible casualties on both sides. They always come back more numerous. Goblins everywhere replicate fast, but the Goblin Empire's reproduction rate is on another tier. Revenants could decimate them, but the legendary heroes won't stay forever. The goblins will still be here when the last revenant has returned to the other world. We have to find a way to peaceful coexistence."

"Do you think we'll actually find this item you're after?"

"Oh, I know exactly where it is. Getting it, that's the hard part. If we fail, the treaty falls apart. And border skirmishes will turn into a full-blown war. The academy will fall, on the long run maybe even the whole United Kingdoms."

Weylan let out a slow breath. "Why involve us? Why first-years, of all people?"

"Because no one expects first-years to carry out a mission this important. Everyone thinks this is a harmless survival exercise. It's the perfect excuse for our patrols to scour the area, kill monsters and generally distract anyone and anything in the area. All under the pretext of protecting you. It lets us move through dangerous territory without drawing too much attention. The older students have already had their field excursions. And they also don't need that level of protection."

Weylan digested the information. "So what exactly are we after?"

Silvea gave a weary smile, one corner of her mouth quirking. "Kaelthorne already chose the team who'll handle the mission. Everyone else, including you, is just here as a distraction. The target is on a need-to know-basis. And you don't need to know."

He stared at her a moment longer, then gave a slow nod. "Thank you... for not telling me anything."

"Smart boy," she said, clapping his shoulder. "Now go play the clueless student. But keep your eyes open."

Weylan walked back toward the others, thoughts racing.

They couldn't use older students… That meant whoever they tried to distract would know this kind of excursion and level of protectiveness would be unusual. That ruled out uncivilized monsters. Was it because the goblins would notice? Silvea mentioned the Goblin Queen couldn't get the target herself. So, it wasn't about goblins either. Or did they fear the goblins would try to steal the target once they'd retrieved it? He tried to recall the map of the area surrounding Wildeguard. They were moving almost straight to the south… There was no city or settlement in this direction. Except lake Metatherios, the lake surrounded by villages full of therianthropes. Weylan paused mid-step. Wait… Did they plan to steal something from the were-people? The lake was supposed to be about a week's travel away, but the area where the were-creatures lived started… somewhere north of that? Probably.

He glanced at the sky and through a gap in the canopy of trees, he glimpsed the moon. About half full. The professor had mentioned the were-people could transform at will, but had to do it at the full moon. And since academy rules forbade anyone even going near the southern forest during the three days around the full moon, they probably didn't spend that time prancing around in the forest and weaving flower crowns.

He imagined hundreds of rabid were-deer, were-wolves, were-geese, were-rabbits and other exotic half-humans raging through the forest, hunting down anything that wasn't a were-creature. Or did they also kill each other? How far could they travel during their mandatory transformation?

They weren't just here to practice survival skills. They were here to steal something from the were-creatures.

And they had about eight days left before the moon turned full.

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