In the kind of pure mischief, one could only acquire by hanging around the Amnasín guildmaster a bit too much, Hallvar smiled at the mage's surprise.

"Tyrus," the hero answered bluntly, though a sharp-toothed grin lingered on their face.

The man stuttered over his words. "We– we thought you were dead."

With a hum familiar to all pedants, Tyrus made a correction.

"Technically, the guildmaster would not acknowledge that you were missing at all, and Stella was acting as if nothing was wrong. But Grim's was really worried!"

"I'm sorry," Hallvar replied with a laugh. "I really couldn't stick around to give anyone closure. It's a long story."

Tyrus gestured with his hand, almost frantically. "Then tell me."

The hero looked at Brigavalé's guildmaster, who was immersed in reading a letter at her desk.

"Uh, sure, I can," they hesitated. "But I guess I need to make sure I'm not going to be kicked out for committing violence against another guild member even though it was deserved."

Oma glanced up over a small pair of reading glasses. "Are you afraid that the violence is a crime? Or that the violence against a guild member is a crime?"

"Both?"

The Valien guildmaster read a few lines of her letter, repeating a phrase in her language to help her translate. "Your guildmaster has written in this letter that he is 'sorry for the poor, underpaid staff member who must transcribe my words, as I am–'"

She muttered a phrase in Valien, struggling to find a Sínisch comparison.

"That I must be so decrepit and gnarled with age that my hands are merely bones that scratch the paper.' So, yes, I am considering violence against a guild member. Speak your story."

Hallvar snorted while Tyrus struggled to paint an appropriate expression on his face. The mage was terrible at conveying the right emotion at the right time; responding to Oma's statement felt like a trap for incorrect performance.

"Right, well… I guess it will be easier to show you first then explain."

This office was very spacious, as it was assigned to the primary administrator and owner of this castle. It didn't have enough room to safely contain the kjerrborn but…

This was as good of a moment as ever to test which of these new belts, weapons, clothing would work with beastshaping.

Hallvar stretched and snapped into the qittakākom form, careful to retract their claws so that the nice carpet wouldn't get damaged.

They took the moment to pop their long back, wondering if qitta were like dachshunds and therefore prone to spine injuries and illnesses.

Tyrus leapt backwards, a look of abject horror on his face. He continued to retreat until his spell book bumped against the guildmaster's desk.

In contrast, Oma was curious and less affected by the surprise. Perhaps her face didn't work that way.

Yet, she watched as Hallvar withered back into their human form, whereas Tyrus had to look away.

"You could hear bones breaking," he whispered, still recovering from the shock.

"The flesh ripping was audible," Oma added placidly. "It is quite horrific. Does it hurt?"

Hallvar shrugged. "Only for a moment. Pain until the nerves of one form disconnect and are rewired as the next form."

They didn't mention that the reconnection of nerves was practically euphoric, since the entire pain-to-pleasure experience lasted maybe a second or two at most. It was never the focus of the beast-mind when Hallvar landed in those forms.

Tyrus looked like he wanted to ask a technical question, but he chose a safer branch of his internal dialogue tree, still clutching his coat for comfort.

"What, um, what does this have to do with your assumed death?"

Hallvar started to speak and then stopped. "Do you want the full explanation or the short one? This can be a very complicated discussion or take a few seconds."

The Wandering Scholar blinked behind his glasses. Hallvar's options made no sense. Did Tyrus want all of the information? Or did they want to be lied to by omission?

So it was with a touch of incredulity that Tyrus replied, "The full explanation? Of course?"

The hero crossed their arms and launched into the story, eager to both explain and complain about their last few months.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Uh, the first time I choose a form – and I can choose a very limited number of them – I'm required to spend an extended time as that beast. The first half of each attunement period, I don't really have full control of my actions. The first quarter, I barely have consciousness as a human, just running on whatever the beast-mind dictates."

Hallvar went back to their seat, making themselves comfortable as they tried to recount the overly complicated events of the past few months.

"Anyways, so back in Amnasín, I chose a kjerrborn form so I could rescue Queenie – my beast companion, you should meet her. Thankfully, rescuing a kjerrborn cub meant my kjerrborn form defended the child without my input."

Tyrus nodded. "The gryphons."

"Gryphons?" Oma asked. This tale was entrancing in its improbability; however, the guildmaster had witnessed the extremely high luck attribute that Hallvar possessed.

"There were five dead gryphons left at Hallvar's last known location," the mage stated.

"Seven," the beastshaper corrected. "Two escaped and had to be hunted down."

Some more disbelieving blinks from Tyrus.

"Seven gryphons is a large number," questioned Oma lightly.

"I was a very large and very angry kjerrborn," Hallvar countered, waving a taloned hand dismissively. "I haven't measured, but I don't think my height changes between human and kjerrborn, 'cause my eye level stays the same. I just get more body mass."

There was silence from the others as they projected their idea of a kjerrborn's size and shape onto the height Hallvar would be if they were not seated.

It was, indeed, large.

"Anyways, the beasthunter Guillaume was the one that killed Queenie's mother – the cub's mother – and my best guess is that I was spotted leaving the [ territory ] and Guillaume decided to get a second kjerrborn pelt."

Hallvar shrugged as a vague sense of realization began forming on Tyrus' face.

"Like I said, I wasn't really in full control of the kjerrborn's actions, and it wanted to flee with the cub. And until the attunement period was done, I was stuck as a kjerrborn. I kept stopping the, uh–"

How should they phrase this…

"The beast-instincts said to just kill the hunter. I spent way too long resisting instead of killing Guillaume – who I've met and talked to before – which is why I lost an eye."

Tyrus nodded. "I wanted to ask about the eye. Grim and Ikraam would have mentioned that type of injury if it happened before the gryphon incident."

The beastmaster rubbed the scar without thought, almost as a reminder that it was missing.

"I'm not used to it yet. Still run into things. Harder to fight with, except for the kjerrborn – it has terrible eyesight anyways, so missing an eye doesn't change a lot."

Oma wanted clarification. "You killed this Guillaume when you lost the eye?"

It was a question Tyrus didn't want to ask but desired the answer to. He was not exactly a combat mage.

He was capable of being dangerous in the same way that anyone holding a magic-channeling stick was; however, his preference was solving puzzles and finding secrets, not fighting.

"No," Hallvar sighed, absently rubbing at the corner of their missing eye.

"I was stupid and naive. Ze took my eye back in Amnasín and I still let hir chase me around the continent to Brigavalé before I could confront hir, as a human."

Tyrus was back to shocked. The novelty of this new beastmaster subclass and capability wasn't enough to offset the idea that Hallvar was hunted by another guild member.

He even sat down on the edge of the guildmaster's desk to steady himself; Oma glanced at the man but permitted the indiscretion.

"Guillaume knew who you were and still–"

"I don't know," Hallvar said bluntly. "I know I told hir. I said my name. I told hir that if ze strayed from the roads and designated paths out of Brigavalé, I would kill hir. But it was not conversational."

The implied possibilities went unspoken. That Guillaume did understand and chose to hunt Hallvar anyways. That Guillaume didn't understand and had a different motive. That they would never know what Guillaume was thinking.

"And you arrived in Alvgarten after."

Oma was practical, connecting the dots to understand why the hero had showed up so disheveled and, well, odd.

"More or less," Hallvar replied. "A little more than a week passed between Guillaume and arriving in Alvgarten."

They intentionally omitted that the qitta was a new form as well, or comparatively new.

To Oma, the strange appearance of a berggeist now made complete sense.

A foreigner from the complete opposite side of the continent had been disoriented by changing into a beast, chased down into one of the most difficult-to-survive nations in Aestrux, and led to kill another guild member.

While it was uncommon for anyone Valien to summon heroes – as they were a conglomerate of lordships, not a singular nation – Oma understood that there was often a cultural clash between Aestrux and the incoming heroes.

Some found it easy to take a life; some refused to do so entirely.

The beastmaster had been turned into a beast, literally and metaphorically, so their ambling, ignorant entry into Alvgarten was understandable.

Opa Lenz had been a beastmaster for many years before retiring to change to an artisan class. His patient and quiet demeanor made him a good grandfather to his own grandchildren and a good keeper of beasts.

Oma was lucky that her husband ran across the hero first. A disoriented being that was more beast than human… who knows how they would have reacted to more immature and aggressive Adventurers?

The Wandering Scholar was not one to manufacture statements by reading between-the-lines; he was more of a stay-exactly-in-the-lines guy.

So, instead of making false assumptions – like wondering if Hallvar lived here now – he just asked: "Are you going back to Amnasín?"

Hallvar nodded, furrowing their brow a bit at the idea of not returning. "Yeah, I will. Despite Grim and everyone else saying Brigavalé is dangerous and difficult, it's a holiday in comparison to being hunted around the Staargraven."

"You are not afraid of the cold or beasts?" asked Oma. That was the usual complaint from the rare visiting Adventurer. That, and the prevalence of sour pickled foods.

The hero laughed. "No. I may have chosen the kjerrborn without much thought, but it was a great decision. Nothing really wants to try its defenses, and it doesn't get cold."

"A holiday in Brigavalé…" Tyrus mused. They were words that didn't usually belong together.

"Oh!" Hallvar sat up suddenly, remembering they had a request for Tyrus.

"Are you leaving now? Or, er, are you going back soon-ish? Oma said she would send a letter back with the Wandering Scholar, but I forgot that meant you. Is that okay?"

The hero stood, as if to go back to their room and find paper and ink and do it right now.

"No, no–" Tyrus said, not wanting to be pressured by a time limit. "I will be here for a few days."

He held out a hand toward Oma in apology. "I don't want to go with the caravan, but I can stay here for a couple days and borrow books until your letters are written?"

The guildmaster said something that Hallvar immediately understood to be "You will practice your Valien." The mage's face told the entire story.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.