The battle was over before he managed to reach one of the remaining Guardians. Both of his companions finished their battles, with Olivia ripping her war scythe the width of one Guardian's broad throat, and Lana steadily turning her target into a porcupine while it choked to death on her projectiles.

With the death of their commanders, the horde of croakers abruptly dispersed. The lesser monsters fled across the bogs, heading for the relative safety of their shelters outside the Lair.

Clay didn't think they'd remain safe for long. Even worn and wounded, the members of Lana's team seemed more than ready to hunt them down later. If they seemed a little bedraggled now, he was sure that they'd be more than ready to finish the job once they'd had a day or two of rest.

At the moment, however, the whirling energies of the Curse drew him to something vastly more important. The Lair was waiting for them, and it would not wait.

They found it in the remnants of some kind of farmhouse. The place had not been a massive structure; there was no sign of an expansive manor house or an imposing tower. Instead, the place appeared to be no bigger than the building where Clay had lived just outside the Tanglewood, and only in moderately better repair. It boasted a single room, with a wooden floor and a single humble chimney. Thatching had once sheltered the place from the elements. Now all but the bed had been left open to the sky, and it was only sheltered by the weathered wood that made up its loft. Even the walls were crumbling, left to tumble down in a scattering of stone.

Age had not been kind to the place, but those details were not what captured Clay's attention as they drew close. It was the Curse itself, hovering in the loft and shining in the rain, that absorbed him. He could sense it howling in rage at him; the energy within it shrieked and yammered within his mind, somehow worse than it was than it had been when he'd first seen one.

The others appeared unnerved by it, Lana especially. She was the only one who hadn't seen it before, and she stared at it in horrified fascination.

Elizabeth shivered, rubbing her arms over her sleeves. "It seems so much more… angry now. I wish you had already started on it, Olivia."

Olivia gave the Wheatrose sister a raised eyebrow. "I won't be doing it this time, actually. Any of you could."

Elizabeth paled a little, but Paul shook his head and laughed. "No, thank you. It did not seem like a good time, honestly." Harry nodded, seeming unwell as he watched. Clay watched them with some concern. He hadn't expected them to use the Garden's Peace today, obviously, but he had hoped that eventually they would, if only so that they could lead their own teams someday. If they didn't…

He shook his head. It was a concern for another day. Instead, he looked at Lana, who was still watching the glowing sliver of unreality as it wavered and pulsed. "Lana. Are you ready?"

The [Minstrel] looked back at him. Her eyes looked very wide. She swallowed slowly. "This is real, isn't it? This is what makes the difference."

Clay nodded slowly. "Yeah." He looked back at the Curse, wincing as another particularly fierce burst of energy snapped at the stone nearby. "Without this part, the Lair will just come back. It might take a year or two, but it'll come back just as strong and powerful as it used to be. We have to finish it."

"And it's my turn to do it." Lana looked back at the Curse. A complicated mix of emotions washed across her face, half-hidden by the rain. She looked back at him. "You'll be there? In case something goes wrong?"

He nodded again, and relief flooded her gaze. She drew in a long breath and let it trickle away.

Then she nodded. "All right. Give it to me."

Clay reached into his belt and drew out a scroll of parchment, one that had been sheltered from the rain and the mud by a wooden carrying case. He handed it over to her, but didn't let go when she took it. She looked up at him, and he tried not to let any of his own fears into his voice. "When you start, keep going. Finish it no matter what." He met her eyes. "You can do this, Syr Lana. Remember that, and finish it."

She nodded, and he let go. Then she approached the glowing light, stopping a healthy distance away from it. Clay readied himself as she unrolled the scroll, exposing the parchment to the rain and wind. Her hands seemed to tremble as she stared at it, and Clay began to prepare the [Chant] of Discord, just in case.

He relaxed a moment later as Lana began, her voice ringing out over the sounds of the storm. The words were ones he recognized, the ones etched deep into his Soul. Clay exchanged a look with Olivia, who nodded calmly. She stood nearby, her scythe held unobtrusively at the ready. Harry, Paul, and Elizabeth spread out, keeping watch for anything that might try to interrupt. As they did, Lana stumbled slightly, and Clay returned his attention to her. She was back on track a moment later, as the Curse howled and screamed at her.

It was to be a very long vigil.

As always, the spell seemed to take far longer than it should. There were several points where Lana struggled against her opponent, yet she soldiered on, singing the words to life around the waning Lair. It fought her as hard as any of the Curses he'd extinguished, but to his relief, she remained focused on her task.

Around her, the storm seemed to lessen as the time wore on. The rain faded to a mere sprinkle, while the rumbling of the clouds overhead became a mere grumble. Even the wind started to seem a little less chill, though Clay didn't quite trust that it was done completely. A part of him wondered if the Garden's Peace was having an effect, but he doubted there would ever be a way to know for sure.

The end came quickly, as it always had before. Lana fought her way through to the end of the song, and the last burning words shot from her lips to strike at the thing writhing in the air above her. As the others had, it fought, lashed energy in all directions, as if it was trying to escape.

It failed.

With one last burst of hatred and ethereal wailing, it collapsed in on itself and disappeared entirely. A moment later, the notification that he'd been waiting for appeared.

{Curse of the Boglands destroyed! Soul increases by 1000 for all nearby heroes}

While he stood there, grinning at the message, Olivia put an arm around Lana. The [Minstrel] and the [Student] had spoken quietly, and then Olivia had moved forward again, peering under the shelter of the loft at the space beneath. Clay could see a small bed covered by long rotten blankets there; he might have seen the thin outline of a desiccated body as well.

With a grimace, he turned to look at Lana, who still seemed dazed at her success. He grinned. "Well?"

She grinned back. "Level thirteen. And [Banisher], like you said." Lana shook her head. "I think I could use a break now, if you don't mind."

"We all could." He clapped her on the shoulder. "Let's go."

Lana turned in the direction they'd come from, and the rest of her team crowded around her to offer their congratulations as well. Clay looked back and saw Olivia emerging from the space with a book in her hands. She nodded to him, and he grimaced. They had wondered what they would find at the center of this Lair; apparently there had been a text and a victim, after all.

Still, it was yet another thing they could handle later. For now, it was time to finish their mission and go home. A warm bath and a hot meal were surely waiting for them.

Of course, the rewards he hoped for weren't available for a few more hours. They needed to spend some time destroying what was left of the farmhouse first; they obliterated every stone, splinter, and rag from the place, using magic that could have torn Guardians apart. Then they proceeded to crawl through the mound itself, finding the spawning pools that were still crawling with oversized tadpoles. It was the work of another hour or two to make sure none of them survived to bring more misery to the marshes.

Then all that was left was the journey home. They had passed hundreds of corpses as they retraced their steps through the swamps, all of which were starting to crumble and stink now that the power of their masters had been banished. The stench chased Clay and the others long after they had left the swamp behind, lingering even after a liberal use of the Pure Touch [Chant].

Fortunately, it appeared that the wanton slaughter had discouraged any croakers from attempting an ambush. What few monsters were left seemed more interested in running or hiding, which was fine by Clay. They had already killed more than enough of the things, and if Olivia grumbled a little about letting them go, she didn't appear willing to push the issue.

They were welcomed back to Glanwood by an anxious band of [Commoners] led by the Baron himself. The old man appeared stunned when Clay told him the news; tears filled his eyes as he tried to digest the fact that his home and family were free from the monsters that had tormented them for generations. Even Lady Glanwood's apparent desire to escort the heroes in their final missions in the swamp didn't appear to faze him. It was almost as if he was in denial that the burden was truly gone.

The villagers of Glanwood did not share in their liege's disbelief, however. As Clay led the others back to the manor, he already heard laughter and celebration spreading along with the news. Music and dancing had already begun to sweep through the village, even as he staggered towards the nearest fireplace, glad to finally be out of the cold.

Of course, the villagers had practically swarmed the manor house to congratulate them. Clay felt nearly as weary shaking hands and accepting thanks as he had fighting the croakers. It took long into the night before the members of his group managed to beg their way into a chance to rest, and even then, they collapsed into beds to the sounds of a village shouting and singing to the dawn of a new day.

All told, it was exhausting, but not unwelcome. Clay couldn't help but smile as he sank away to sleep. One down. One down and who knew how many there were to go.

"You're sure you don't want to stay?"

Lana's question came with just a hint of a smile. She seemed to have mostly accepted that they were leaving, but Clay was sure that she would have been more content to see them stick around instead. He grinned at her. "What, are you not happy with all of the adulation, Syr Lana? I'd have thought you would take the chance to write a few songs for them to sing."

She rolled her eyes. "They seem to be good at making up their own." A group of men staggered by, a bit worse the wear for the local drink. The village hadn't quite stopped their celebration yet, even two days after the fall of the Lair. Clay couldn't blame them. "Besides, I'm not sure I like the title they gave me. The Golden Voice? It sounds like I sing monsters to death."

Olivia snorted. "It's not entirely wrong, at least." She was busily preparing her belongings for their next journey. Baron Glanwood had been more than happy to open his meagre holdings to them. He'd even volunteered to help them escort their prisoners back, but Clay had decided to do it himself. It was roughly on the way to their next assignment, after all. "At least they are happy with you. They wouldn't be giving you names, otherwise."

Lana gave her a raised eyebrow. "You sure about that, 'Masked Slayer'?" Olivia paused at the title, before continuing her work as if she hadn't noticed. The [Minstrel] shook her head. "Half of them think you eat monsters after you're done killing them. A few might even think you are one."

Clay blinked. "You're kidding."

She shook her head. "It's the scarf. It doesn't exactly present the most welcoming look."

Olivia tucked another bit of food into her pack. She lifted it for a moment and nodded before setting it down. "It's not supposed to." Her fingers crept up to the scarf around her neck. "It's a reminder of what destroyed everything I had, and of what would destroy it again if I let it. If it frightens people, it should. Too many people prefer to forget."

"Well, they aren't going to be singing the best kind of songs about you, I guess." Lana sighed and shook her head. "At least Clay doesn't have to worry about any of that. No room for other names, not for our Commoner Hero."

He grunted in amusement. "Who knows? Maybe they'll have to come up with another name now. After all, I'm not exactly the only one anymore."

Lana shrugged and smiled. "There's something to be said about being the original, though. You were the first." Olivia stirred slightly, as if she was about to say something, and then thought better of it. The [Minstrel] didn't appear to notice. "Speaking of which, it might help encourage everyone if the original Commoner Hero helped clear out the rest of the croakers…"

Clay chuckled. He'd thought that was what she was aiming for. "No, I think I'll leave you the pleasure, Syr Lana." She made a face, and he laughed outright. "Being a hero isn't always a glamorous thing, but at least you'll get the chance to make sure those things are gone. Plus, you can get to know Lady Glanwood better."

"I still can't believe you promised her she could come with us." Lana shook her head. "What are we supposed to do with a [Noble] out in that mess?"

"The same thing I did with you and the others at Janburg." She gave him an irritated look, and he grinned. "Give her the chance to try fighting for herself. If she does well, maybe she'll come back to Pellsglade for a visit. If not, at least you will have kept her safe. It shouldn't take that long to find out which it will be."

Lana looked away for a moment. Then she sighed. "Oh fine. You're right."

Then, with a spark in her eyes, she looked back at him. "You're sure you don't want to—"

"No." Clay shared an amused look with Olivia. "If I never see a swamp again, it'll still be too soon. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime."

They left later that day, with a rousing cheer to send them off and a handful of sullen prisoners carted along with them. The Baron had insisted on chaining their arms and legs, something he hoped would forestall any escape attempts, along with a handful of [Guards] and a cart to carry them. Clay had accepted gratefully, even if it meant he and Olivia would be sleeping apart a little longer. It was more than worth the knowledge that he wouldn't be personally chasing the Peacebound across the countryside again.

Not that most of them seemed like they were ready to do anything of the sort. Tippets, at the very least, seemed to pale every time Olivia looked at him. She'd apparently made quite the impression when she'd captured him. Flint seemed a little less cowed, but he still showed no sign of straying any further away from the cart than Clay asked them to.

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Wynn, for his part, seemed to be completely consumed with a dark mood. He was almost as angry at his fellow Peacebound as he was at Clay and Olivia. He apparently felt that they had ruined everything, and that their lack of speed had set him on a road to disaster. Even the [Guards] received almost as much cursing and snarling as anyone else, for their relatively good cheer if nothing else. The former bandit didn't care about the Lair's destruction at all. If anything, it made him all that much more infuriated that anyone was happy while he was mourning the loss of his future.

His attitude might have made Clay worried, if the former Rogue hadn't been still recovering from his wounds. He could just barely feed himself with effort; apparently the arrow had injured both of his hands rather badly, to the point where he needed to go to the Sanctuary so that the healers there could help him. Any chance of escape for the former bandit was nothing but a dream now, and Wynn knew it just as well as everyone else.

The only Peacebound who worried him was Dana, when it came down to it. Part of it was the way she insisted on smiling the entire time, as if her capture was just another amusing tale she would share later on down the road. Her apparent interest in Clay and Olivia was almost as unnerving; she seemed to want to know whatever she could find about their lives, where they had lived, and what they were doing. It would have been vaguely annoying to be questioned that way by a random [Commoner]. Being asked the same questions by an overly curious [Burglar] with a penchant for malicious plans made for a much less enjoyable experience.

Fortunately, that very fascination appeared to put any further thoughts of escape out of the Queen of Thieves' head. After all, why would she escape when she could spend an afternoon trying to pry more than a one word answer out of Olivia? It might have driven both of them to distraction, but at least it reassured him that the woman was going to stay put.

The rain had let up in the preceding days, and the weather was clear enough that they made good time on the roads. By sunset, they had already made it better than half the distance to Hact's, and Clay helped prepare the camp with the cheerful expectation of ridding himself of his prisoners the very next day.

"You know, it really is a shame."

Clay looked over at Dana, who was once again attempting to make some kind of connection with him. She'd tired of getting monosyllable answers from Olivia, apparently, and had changed targets. When he looked across the camp at her, Olivia gave him an arched eyebrow that said she had no intention of helping him. He let himself sigh as he looked back at Dana, who was sitting next to him with her manacles clinking as she tapped a finger against her lips.

He grimaced. "What is?"

"Why, your situation Sir Clay." Dana grinned, as if she were a fisherwoman whose prey had just taken the bait. "I mean, look at everything you've accomplished! In only a week or so, you've freed a village from a problem they've endured for years."

He finished tying down another stake for his tent and moved to the next. "It was a pleasure to help them."

She followed, her chains clanking softly as she walked. "And such humility! I've known a lot of adventurers, Sir Clay, who wouldn't have been nearly so dismissive of their own accomplishments. I mean, you barely asked for any rewards for your work. Just enough supplies to reach your next destination."

"That's all we need, Goodwoman Dana." He caught a flicker of disapproval on her face. It didn't last for long before it was buried beneath an expression of almost childlike surprise.

"Are you sure, Sir Clay?" She leaned in as he went to work on another stake. "With even just a small amount more, you could draw far more recruits to your cause. Right now, you are working with barely a fraction of the numbers you could have."

He gave her a skeptical look. She was starting to sound like Sal, the [Commoner] who'd wanted to turn bandit in Janburg. "Is that so?"

Dana nodded, apparently oblivious to his lack of enthusiasm. "Of course! Just think how much good you could do with a crowd of [Commoners] around you, all recruited to help fight back against these monsters." She spread her arms, at least as wide as the manacles allowed her to. "Beyond that, just think about your future! If, gods forbid, the worst happens, you'll need some amount of treasure to secure your later years. You wouldn't want to end up shuffled off to some farm in the middle of nowhere. Not after everything you've done."

Clay thought back to the house near the Tanglewood. He still had dreams of waking up there, with no greater concerns than planting a crop and helping Olivia with her studies. "Your concerns are very kind, but I am fine with the way things are."

"And I love that about you! But you really should think more of the future." She shook her head. "I mean really, do you think that the Guild would turn down an offer of more financial support? They'd probably love to have their hands on whatever they could get."

He gave her another stern look. "The Guild can care for itself, Dana, and so can I. I'm not sure why you think I can't."

She waved away the implied question with a manacled hand. "I'm trying to help you see the bigger picture. To recognize all the possibilities you could reach for. You shouldn't allow yourself to be so limited."

Clay finished the stake and stood up, studying her for a moment. It was clear she was up to something, but her angle just wasn't obvious yet. "I think the Guild might take a dim view of me taking things I don't need from people who are already suffering. The King probably wouldn't be happy about it either."

A hint of cunning crept into her expression now. She smiled. "Well, perhaps they wouldn't need to know anything about it, right? After all, if it is an arrangement between you and the people you've just saved…"

As she trailed off, Clay sighed. "And maybe I could collect it before I actually help anyone?" She started to nod, and he continued. "Like a bandit would?"

Dana froze. She frowned. "I was thinking more like it would help you know who would… appreciate your efforts more. It might help you decide where to spend your efforts."

He folded his arms. "That's not needed." She stared at him, her expression blank, and Clay smiled. "Was there anything else, Dana?"

Her lips twisted in a faint, nervous smile. "Well, if you are opposed to that, maybe you would like a more… voluntary donation? From someone who has an interest in seeing you succeed."

Clay let out a huff of amusement as her motives became far more transparent. "Someone who might be interested in getting a favor from me in return?"

Dana shrugged. "I won't deny that I could use some… discretion from you at the moment, as well as some available funds that you might be able to put to good use." She saw his reaction to the suggestion and seemed to grow exasperated. "Come now, Sir Clay. How much is the custody of one Peacebound worth? How many more villages could you save, if you just let me go free?"

He started to respond, and then Olivia looked over at him from across the camp. She raised an eyebrow and smiled, and his initial frustration evaporated. Instead, he shrugged and grinned. "I'll save them anyway. Thank you for your thoughts."

The [Burglar] stood there, staring at him like he'd grown a second head. Her disbelief slowly shifted to cold rage. "You know they're just like me, don't you? All of them."

Clay raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"The [Nobles]. The [Commoners]. The Guild." Her fists clenched for a moment. "They're all playing the same game. Why should I be punished just because I played it better? Why shouldn't I have taken what I could for myself?"

He studied her for a moment. "Because while you took what you could, others suffered." She opened her mouth, and he continued in a quiet voice. "Did you know that another [Noble] did something similar? He collected twice the taxes he needed and lied to the King about it. The [Commoners] paid, because what else would they do?"

His voice grew colder. "Then there was a bad harvest. And a flood. And all of a sudden, a famine began." Clay stepped forward, and Dana grew pale. "My mother nearly died as a result. Most of her village did as well."

She stared at him, speechless, as he met her gaze. "So the next time you talk about taking what you can, remember who you're taking it from." He waited for a moment, so the words could sink in. Then he stepped back and turned to the tent again. "Good night, Goodwoman Dana."

For a few more moments, she continued to stare at him in muted outrage and anger. Then she snorted. "You really are amusing, Sir Clay. You and your friend." She shook her head. "Still, I did mean it. They're all playing the same game, and once they figure out you aren't, you'll suffer for it."

"I'm not playing games, Dana." He fixed another stake to the ground with a bitter sense of satisfaction. "If they find that out the hard way, so be it."

Still shaking her head, Dana drifted away to join the rest of the prisoners. She seemed unfazed by the conversation, but perhaps that was as much of a mask as her affected sympathy. Clay watched her for a bit and then shook his head. He had too much to worry about to focus so much on someone who would be in the Rectory's care for the next few years, and as for her warning, he doubted that the schemers among the nobility would be worse than the monsters he'd already faced.

The next day they reached Hact's Sanctuary, and Clay bid an unfond farewell to the Peacebound that had caused him so much grief. He also thanked the [Guards] for escorting them, and sent them on their way back to Glanwood, still celebrating the deliverance of their home.

There had been a brief meeting with the Rectors, who made pointed references to the fact that they'd expected Clay back days ago. He shrugged them off, while Olivia asked a few questions about how they intended to prevent the next escape attempt, since the Commoner Hero wouldn't be around to warn them about it. After a few uncomfortable silences, the Rectors had handed over a few letters that had arrived in his absence, and bid him a safe journey.

It would be a five-day journey to their next 'assignment'. From what the letters from the Guild said, Charles and the others were still there, trying to hunt down a group of bandits haunting the area around Michford. The prospect of seeing them again, after so long, helped Clay feel a lot less bitter about the distance they'd need to walk.

Of course, the Rectors had offered them horses, but if he was honest, Clay thought they would probably move faster and be less sore at the end of the day without them. The bonuses from [Traveler] alone would have guaranteed that much, to say nothing of their inflated [Stats]. This way, they could cut across some of the forests rather than sticking to the roads.

Besides, he knew where the horses would have come from. Either some [Farmer] would be asked to sacrifice them, or some other [Commoner] would lose them—and Amelia Evergreen had raised him too well to ever ask for that.

They moved quickly, and the weather held fair, which was an incredible benefit. Clay thought he'd seen enough rain for the entirety of the rest of autumn, though he knew better than to say so out loud. Who knew what the Trickster would do just for a laugh?

All things considered, he was feeling rather optimistic as he helped set up the camp for the night. They were down to a single tent, and Olivia volunteered to prepare the rations for dinner. He gathered a bit of firewood, and the [Chant] of the Spontaneous Spark had a fire burning long before the sun slipped below the horizon.

As they ate, Clay noticed that she had brought out the book she'd retrieved from the Lair. He cleared his throat, and she looked up at him with mild annoyance. "Anything interesting yet?"

She snorted softly. "It's a heavily damaged book written in Middle Relnoux. We should be grateful any of it is legible at all, let alone that I might be able to translate some of it."

He let a smile tug at the corner of his lips. "So you're saying you can't read it?"

Olivia gave him another glare. "I'm saying I might need more than one night, Clay." She rolled her eyes when he grinned at her. "So far, I've been able to identify the Poisoned Wish. Those pages are already destroyed, now."

Clay nodded, his smile slipping away as she continued. "Most of the rest of it seems to be some kind of rant."

He frowned. "Like what I found back home?"

She shook her head. "From what you told me, that was more of a journal of some kind. This one reads like a political treatise." Clay gave her a blank look, and she sighed. "It keeps speaking about rising up against tyrants, and using [Chants] against their enemies."

Clay didn't like the sound of that, not in a book that contained the Poisoned Wish. "What tyrants are they even talking about?"

Olivia shrugged. "I'm not sure. All I know is that they hated them enough 'to make the whole world burn' just to defeat them." She closed the book for a moment. "Obviously, it seems like they were making some of the same mistakes others are today."

He nodded. His mind went back to the spells scrawled in the mines of Rodcliff. "You think someone is trying to copy whatever this book was?"

"I'm not sure yet." She gave him a patient smile. "I will let you know if it has anything about the Eternal Seal, or any [Chants] we don't already know. I doubt it will, though. Even if I found something, I don't know if I would trust a spell recorded by the people who would use the Wish that way."

Clay grunted, and he settled back. The very idea of using the Wish to open Lairs as a weapon chilled him. Had they realized what they were doing? He shuddered. "Well, in any case, at least we have something a bit more cheerful to read."

He pulled out the letters the Rectors had passed on. There were four: one from the Guild, one from his family, one from Rector Semmons, and another from the King. Clay handed the Rector's letter to Olivia, knowing that she would want to hear news from her adoptive father. Then he paused over which of the remaining three had the highest priority. The King's letter might contain all kinds of demands, while the Guild might have shared any amount of information with him about the situation with the bandits.

In the end, however, it wasn't really a close contest. Clay carefully opened the letter from his mother and read it by the flickering firelight. It was difficult not to get utterly absorbed in the text. The careful, precise words had always been a mark of his mother's skills; her [Subclass] as a [Scribe] gave her plenty of practice with the art of writing. Now, however, with the weight of four extra levels at least, it seemed like her writing had an additional power to it, something he'd never expected.

She wrote of various news around Pellsglade. The feud between Adam and the newer merchants had only grown more intense, especially given the additional levels that wily old man had gained. His main competitor, a woman named Myra, apparently matched him skill for skill, however, and their war of coin and produce had spawned a dozen rumors around town.

David was still doing a brisk business in his forge, as were dozens of other craftsmen around Pellsglade. Their incredible skills were slowly making themselves felt outside of the village, and there were more and more traveling merchants who came to visit and purchase something to carry back home. Amelia was worried that news of the new weapons and other products would attract greedy eyes, but she seemed to have faith that Baron Pellsglade would keep things steady.

She did include a side note from the Baron, asking for Clay to remind his son to visit their home. He apparently had gifts for the Generation of Heroes that had helped start the whole mess, and was using them as leverage to compel at least a quick visit from his wandering son.

Aside from those matters, his mother wrote of the farm and his father, his brothers and sisters. Their own, sloppier handwriting made the occasional appearance as she gave them the chance to express their own feelings or tell some particularly important story. Near the end of the letter, she mentioned that the heroes still in town were doing an excellent job patrolling against the Undead, and that the Baron had been going along with them as well, apparently out of a desire to keep up with the [Commoners] running wild in his domain. She still said they all missed his guidance, which Clay very much doubted, and hoped he'd return soon.

Clay finished the letter with a smile on his face and looked up to see Olivia finishing her own. She was a little misty eyed, but she shook off her obvious feelings immediately. "He's well. I guess Andrew has already left for Rettmore."

He nodded. It was the Lair closest to Michford. If they could finish with the bandits quickly enough, they might be able to help much earlier than they had with Lana's team. "Hopefully he doesn't get ahead of himself, then."

Olivia nodded back, and he turned to the next letter. It was a terse, formal letter from the Guild, reminding him of his duties in Michford and hoping that he wouldn't 'experience any undue delays' in his travel. Clay smirked at it and set the pages aside for Olivia to read. She was going over the Rector's letter a second time, a faint smile on her lips.

Clay turned, with some trepidation, to the last letter. He opened it carefully and read the plain script on the parchment inside. It didn't take long for his eyes to widen. Heart beating hard, he went over the words a second time, trying to make sure he hadn't made a mistake.

"What is it?"

He looked up to find Olivia watching him, and he shrugged and handed the letter over. She took it, but kept her eyes on him. "The King… accepted my invitation. He wants to meet us in Eldsford at our earliest convenience."

Olivia blinked. She looked down at the letter in her hands and read it, her emerald eyes racing over the page. When she finished, she started again, going slower this time.

Then she started to chuckle. It rose quickly to a laugh. "You have got to be joking. Clay, you actually got him to leave the capital and hunt monsters with us?"

Clay shifted a little on the log. "I… didn't think he'd actually do it. I thought he'd just say that he was too busy and give up on ordering me around."

"Well, yeah. I wouldn't have expected this either, but…" She gestured with the letter. "He's actually going to be there. The King of Crownsguard, fighting…"

Olivia frowned. "What was supposed to be there? Was it spiders?"

Clay shook his head. "I don't think anyone mentioned it. We may need to ask the Guild when we reach Michford." She snorted and reread the letter a third time, reciting some phrases under her breath and chuckling. "It really isn't funny, you know. We're going to have to keep him from dying out there."

She looked up at him in surprise. "He's at level thirteen, right? And by then, who knows what we'll be at? We could probably just do it alone if we had to."

He grimaced, thinking back to when he'd fought the man on the fields of the Melee. "I don't think he's going to stay on the side while we handle things, and even if he is high level, he still won't have that kind of combat experience."

"Then we'll just have to be a bit more cautious." Olivia shrugged and handed the letter back. "Still, at the very least, you've made your point. Maybe it will help him have a bit more cautious about what he does with the Guild as well."

Clay grunted. He tucked the letters away again, after he noted that the announcement from the King had arrived a few days after the letter from the Guild. He could only imagine what the Council's reaction to the news would be. "Let's hope so. The last thing we need right now is to be fighting each other."

Olivia was still grinning as she picked up her bowl and ate a bite. "True enough. Still, I think that at the very least, you're going to get that much more famous, Commoner Hero."

He snorted as she nudged him. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he took up his bowl again, and started back in on the meal. Clay just hoped that no matter what else had happened, his friends hadn't heard about the nonsense with the capital yet. They were probably going to have enough to tease him about, as it was. Time would soon tell.

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