(Charles)

  Charles strode past the guild gate, heading back into town—a city called Dartmouth. He’d just convinced Dylan to leave with him. Unfortunately, he had to use one of the more expensive options, but at least he didn’t have to resort to abduction. The last thing he needed were two guilds looking for Dylan.

  He mentally reviewed the list, counting each step off on a finger. ‘Contracts, consumables, and Dylan-proofing.’

  That last one meant minimizing Dylan’s penchant for shenanigans—like the time he accidentally burned down the arborhearth. The list seemed short, but there was a lot to prepare to ensure they’d be ready to leave by midday tomorrow.

  By now, Guildmaster Maeve would’ve already heard of Dylan’s return. Nightshade’s skill at keeping secrets didn’t matter—everyone had seen the airship arrive. Especially the eyes and ears Maeve had undoubtedly sent to Dartmouth. He didn’t hold it against her; she was smart, and he’d have done the same if he had similar resources.

  Charles threaded his way through the unusually crowded sidewalk as he thought about the guildmaster’s offer. She’d promised him his own team and a fast track to headmaster of the local Ebonscale Chapter. He could have similar resources if he wanted, on top of a chance to run the guild more fairly.

  ‘No,’ he thought, shaking his head. ‘It’s a trick. She just wants Dylan. This was never about me.’ And with that, he put the thought out of his mind.

  The crowd thinned as he approached the League of Adventurers’ Hall. Maybe the earlier bustle wasn’t so unusual; he wouldn’t know. Normally, he’d be on the road by now, almost to Zincarthia. Meeting Dylan had disrupted every aspect of his life, especially his chronometer-like routine.

  It concerned him that he hadn’t detected whoever Guildmaster Maeve had sent to tail him. Either they were a professional or had an ability to track him with impunity—neither option was ideal. But Dylan would be safe in the arborhearth, and Charles would ensure it stayed close.

  A blonde-haired elf stepped out of the League of Adventurers’ Hall, holding the door open for Charles. She wore a fancy top with frills and a skirt that went down to her ankles. He sized her up for either an administrative attendant for the League or a civilian.

  “Good day,” she said with a pleasant smile.

  He replied with a curt nod and stepped through the open door. His boots came to a halt as he scanned the signs, wondering where they might have moved the Contracts Hall this time. Either the Halls got shuffled monthly, or it had coincidentally ended up in the same spot as his last visit—back when he’d registered Dylan. But that didn’t matter right now. All he needed was some contracts. So, he shrugged and made his way to the hall.

  After entering the hall, he continued until he found a door that read Contract Pickup.

  There were two ways to get contracts—before or after completing them. Charles preferred handling things as he encountered them, submitting his work for completed contracts when he got around to it.

  But that wasn’t an option now. Only adventurers with active licenses could request contracts after completion, and his was suspended. Besides, he wanted to train Dylan on unranked contracts to minimize the risk. Finding trouble wasn’t difficult, but finding trouble Dylan could survive was—Xel’oria was a dangerous world. And that’s why Contract Pickup existed, they could get properly ranked contracts suitable for even Dylan.

  Charles opened the door and was surprised to find there wasn’t a line. He approached the counter to ask about all the unranked contracts along his route to Zincarthia. A familiar face greeted him.

  “Good afternoon, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Marlin,” said a pretentious-looking elf.

  “I know,” Charles replied. This was the same attendant who had registered Dylan.

  “Ah yes,” Marlin said, gesturing to his badge. “The nametag…” He mock-tapped his head, feigning forgetfulness.

  Charles frowned, wondering why the attendant was in Contract Pick up instead of Mundane Registrations. But instead of sating his curiosity, he asked, “What do you have for unranked contracts between Dartmouth and Zincarthia?”

  “Unranked?” Marlin asked, as if the word tasted foul.

  “Yes. I’ll take all the exterminations, and I’d like to see what you have for transport.” Both were very straightforward contracts, killing and delivery. Charles wanted to start Dylan with the basics and work their way up from there.

  Marlin held out a hand. “Your Adventuring License, please.”

  Charles assumed it was habit—or maybe Marlin was just new to this post. Unranked contracts didn’t require an Adventuring License. Anyone could pick them up, and they were a useful way to earn enough gems for one of the cheaper orbs, even if it took a while. Some local guilds only allowed unranked adventurers to take their trial.

  Charles reached into his pocket and pulled out the rectangular card, handing it to Marlin. He watched the pretentious elf tap it to his tablet, frown, and then tap it again.

  Charles thought, ‘He better not say it.’

  Marlin looked away with a heavy sigh, as if he’d been inconvenienced. “My apologies, sir, but it appears that this license has been suspended.”

  Charles slowly balled his fingers into fists. His knuckles cracked while he focused on his breathing.

  “I’m aware…” Charles replied coldly.

  They’d exchanged those exact same words during their first meeting, just over two weeks ago. Charles found it hard to believe that Marlin could ever forget interacting with Dylan. He certainly wouldn’t.

  “And… What about the contracts?” He purposefully moved his head toward the attendant’s tablet.

  “I’m afraid the best I can do are unranked contracts, sir.”

  “Perfect. Since that’s what I’ve already asked for.”

  Marlin looked down at the card and winced. “Right…” His head dropped as he handed Charles back his card.

  “My apologies. I used to work the night shift.”

  “I remember.”

  “Have we met before?” Marlin glanced up to actually look at Charles for the first time. His eyes went wide as they recognized the rugged elf. “It’s you…” Then he leaned over the counter to peer around Charles at the empty room. “Is… is he here?” he whispered.

  Charles’ Proprioception confirmed there were only two people in the room, but he looked anyway. “Who?”

  “That guy. The one from Dirt…”

  “Dylan?” Charles assumed and then shook his head. “No, he’s not here.”

  “Good.” Marlin ran a hand down his buttoned vest, straightening himself.

  Charles knew he’d likely regret it, but that didn’t stop him from asking a very loaded question.

  “Why? What’s wrong with Dylan?”

  “He uh…” Marlin paused, giving the bottom of his vest a sharp two-handed tug. “I almost got him killed.” He bit his cheek and then let out a resigned breath. His arms spread out, gesturing to the counter between them. “That’s why I’m here, actually. I may have skipped a question or two during his registration…”

  Charles crossed his arms. “What question?”

  Marlin wilted, his eyes darting toward the nearest exit. Charles raised an eyebrow without repeating himself.

  The attendant shut his eyes, stepping back from the counter. “Okay, it was more than just a question. There was a whole checklist we were supposed to go through—but it takes hours!”

  “I gather Food allergies were on that checklist?” Charles didn’t need an answer as the pretentious elf’s shoulders drooped another inch.

  Marlin nodded.

  Charles shook his head, uncrossing his arms to lean against the counter. “I’ll take all your unranked extermination contracts from here to Zincarthia.”

  “Sir, there is a limit of—”

  “I’ll take them all…”

  “I—I… I’m sorry sir,” Marlin stuttered, dropping his posh accent. “B—but I don’t want to get into trouble again…”

  “There won’t be trouble.” Charles placed his card on the counter with a click and slid it across. “As long as I get those contracts.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Marlin opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. Instead, he picked up Charles’ suspended Adventuring License and started tapping it to his tablet.

  After loading up the last contract, fifteen taps later, he returned the card to Charles.

  “Would you still like to see what transport contracts we have?”

  “No, these will do for now,” Charles said, flipping through the contracts. He paused when he noticed the date. ‘This one’s three months old,’ he thought. He skimmed the rest, noting their submission dates, before turning back to the pretentious elf.

  “Hey, some of these contracts are months old. And this one’s almost a year.”

  Marlin’s hands shot up above his shoulders. “I am truly sorry, sir. I—I—I just started this department two days ago! Please, don’t hurt me.”

  Charles sighed. The elf was missing the point. “Listen,” he said, waiting for Marlin to stop flinching and pay attention.

  After a moment of silence, Marlin slowly opened one eye and then his other. “Yes, sir?” he asked, lowering his hands.

  “It’s important to clear out extermination contracts quickly. Some of these will be higher than unranked by now…”

  “I can take them back if—”

  “No. I’ll handle it. But if someone like me, a common-ranked adventurer, comes looking for unranked contracts, you give them as many as they want. Understand?”

  Marlin nodded.

  “Sending mundane or even unranked adventurers on stale contracts is dangerous. You’re going to get someone killed.”

  Marlin tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Understood.”

  Charles left the pretentious elf to his guilt and read through the contracts as he made his way to his favorite alchemy shop. He mentally compiled a checklist of consumables for the extermination jobs—a very expensive checklist.

  Charles approached the familiar stretch of storefronts leading to V’ega’s Potions and Lotions. V’ega, a cerulean-scaled draconi, was the proprietor of Charles’ preferred alchemy shop, and the best alchemist in the city. He was helpful, honest, and handsome. The last part didn’t affect the quality of service, but it did make shopping more bearable.

  He paused with his hand on the door, hoping V’ega was working today. He’d never seen anyone else behind the counter, but then, he’d never stayed in Dartmouth this long before either.

  He pulled the door open, and the service bell rang as a warm, excited voice called out from behind the counter.

  “Charles!” V’ega said. He glanced up from taking inventory of his latest shipment, and flashed Charles a handsome smile. “I see you’ve stuck around, what can I do for my favorite customer.”

  He was always saying that to Charles, but today he might actually live up to the platitude.

  “You got a mark and scratch I could use?” Charles asked, being polite. He knew there was a stack of scratch paper behind the counter and a mark lying beside the register. V’ega was old school, preferring to keep an actual logbook for inventory instead of digitizing everything with magitech.

  “Sure, how many pieces?” V’ega joked, insinuating he was about to order a comically large amount of something.

  “Just one, but I’ll probably need to use the back.”

  V’ega’s eyebrows shot up. “I was just kidding.”

  “I’m not. How many health potions do you have?”

  “Two cases.” V’ega handed over the mark and scratch.

  “I’ll take them.”

  “How many?”

  “Both.” Charles began jotting down a few items from the list.

  “Both… Potions?” V’ega tilted his head, confused on which potion they were talking about.

  Charles glanced up, looking past V’ega into the storeroom behind him. “Both cases.” He flipped the mark backward and pointed at them before twirling it upright to continue writing. “Any chance you can get more in before midday tomorrow?”

  V’ega let out a chuckle. “Sorry, I’ll have to order more. And I usually don’t until I’m down to the last case. You sure you’ll need them all?”

  Charles knew the alchemist cared more about helping people than making a sale. Normally, he saw that as a weakness—easily exploitable—but with V’ega, it was endearing. The alchemist was just worried about what might happen if there was a medical emergency and he was out of health potions.

  “Keep a handful and sell me the rest?” he asked without looking up.

  V’ega leaned over the counter to peer at the growing list. “Sure.”

  “What about mana potions?” Charles asked, still transcribing his mental list onto the scratch paper as they chatted. None of the items needed to be purchased in bulk, but there were a lot of options he wanted to have on hand—just in case.

  “Those, I can craft. Just finished a batch that was supposed to go to Nightshade, but I can always whip up another. Two cases of those as well?”

  “Four would be better.”

  “Four it is. Hey, um… Looks like you’re gearing up for an expedition. You’re going to come back, right?”

  “Of course, I’ll need to close out my tab.”

  “Your tab?” V’ega raised an eyebrow. Charles always insisted on paying up front, even if the items wouldn’t be ready for a couple of days.

  “Got a quest from Nightshade to train that acquaintance I mentioned before. I’ll have more than enough to cover everything when we get back.”

  “What are you going to do to train him? Start a war?” A sliver of concern slipped into V’ega’s smile.

  Charles stopped writing to look up at him. “Contracts…” He flipped the scratch over and resumed writing.

  “All of this is for… contracts?” V’ega watched as Charles scrawled, “Rainy Day Grenade x1,” onto the list.

  Charles nodded without looking up. “I like to be prepared.”

  “I can see that.”

  Charles reached an item on his list he wasn’t sure V’ega would have.

  “Have any glowrunes?”

  V’ega shook his head. “Not for sale, but I’ve got candles—”

  “No, thanks. It has to be glowrunes.” Charles wouldn’t make the mistake of trusting Dylan with an open flame inside the arborhearth again.

  He finished up the list, relieved to find that it fit on both sides. This was going to cost a small fortune, but he’d been saving up for years to buy Vera from Ebonscale. Now that she was technically “free”, although temporarily stabled there for rehabilitation over the next three months, Charles could spend his savings as he wished.

  He pulled out a large sack of gems and dropped it onto the list before sliding both to V’ega’s side of the counter.

  “This should cover most of the expense, but I’ll need to put the rest on my tab, if that’s alright with you?” Charles hated the idea of going into debt again—he’d promised himself he never would. But he had to. Dylan was in trouble, and Charles hated being unprepared even more than he hated being in debt.

  “Anything for you.” V’ega gave him a wink. “You are my favorite, after all…”

  Charles finished placing his order with V’ega and left the shop, the small bell above the door chiming as he stepped out. His order wouldn’t be ready for pickup until later.

  Charles used the savings he’d set aside for Vera to cover the purchase. It almost covered everything, but he still needed to take out a line of credit—interest-free, thanks to V’ega. He hadn’t spent all his gems, of course. That would’ve been foolish.

  Before he got back to his arborhearth, he ordered a single bed, dresser, and nightstand to furnish Dylan’s room. He’d have to allot more space, but the storage room had some to spare.

  He placed the box of glowrunes on top of the storage trunk attached to his arborhearth and opened the cabinet above. He’d picked them up from a generalist shop along the way. The entire wooden crate wouldn’t fit in the cabinet, so he loaded as many as he could and shut the door. His arborhearth doubled as both a storage and transport ability, and Dylan’s description of it being “bigger on the inside” was accurate.

  On the outside, there appeared to be an intricately carved black carriage, pulled by two bramble spawn, plant-beasts of darkness. The overall shape was that of a large round nut, its entirety made of dense wood. But on the inside was a configurable space that included a storage section and as many non-storage sections as Charles fancied, up to a limit of cubic space. The more rooms, the smaller they had to be. Upgrading the ability would increase its space allotment as well.

  The cabinet door swung open to reveal an empty shelf again, having magically deposited the glowrunes into storage. He repeated the process until the crate was empty. Charles opened the chest and slipped the crate inside too. There was always room for one more container. He’d emptied the crate now so he wouldn’t have to later, in case he needed to use the crate quickly.

  He’d scheduled the furniture and alchemy goods for pickup later. Bringing the arborhearth to the shop would be much easier than hauling everything back by hand or even grav-slab. He just needed to be mindful of the single turn of the clock time-limit when parking on Market Street. Getting summoned to court again for another parking ticket wouldn’t have been acceptable.

  Charles climbed into the driver’s box. Snapping sounds filled the air as the bramble spawn broke free of their temporary roots, ready to move again. He stopped briefly to inform the stable attendant that he’d return by dusk for one more night’s stay. Then he was off, the clip clop of hooves leading the way.

  Charles held the reins loosely as they left through the guild gates for the second time that day. Unlike Vera, his recently acquired theropod mount, the bramble spawn followed every command without challenge. As they traveled, he mentally adjusted some walls to add space to Dylan’s room—he had kept it while the husky man was away on his quest.

  Charles was perfectly content living alone—he much preferred it to entertaining company or, worse, sharing his space with someone else. But he wanted Dylan to feel comfortable. The husky man would be spending considerable time inside the arborhearth and needed to see it as a refuge in case Charles needed him to retreat there quickly.

  Curiosity was dangerous, and Dylan’s tendency to ask why instead of simply following instructions might get him killed.

  It didn’t take more than a quarter turn of the clock for each stop.

  ‘That’s unfortunate,’ Charles thought as he compared the list to the items V’ega had for him. A handful of items were missing, despite V’ega going out of his way to barter with other alchemy shops in the city to source what he didn’t have or couldn’t make on short notice.

  But that was alright—Charles would manage without them. Most of the alchemy supplies were for contingency plans anyway. He thanked V’ega and left, but not before the alchemist reminded him to come back in one piece.

  There was plenty of time after picking up the bedroom set for Charles to arrange it before risking a ticket. He pushed the bed into place, tucking it snugly into the corner. He wished he could add a window to the wall for Dylan—it might encourage him to stay inside the arborhearth more often. As it was, Dylan would probably prefer riding next to him in the driver’s box, which seated two comfortably.

  The arborhearth came from Charles’ Darkness framework where sunlight was antithetical to its function. But that’s what the glowrunes were for.

  Charles slid the dresser to the foot of the bed, leaving enough room for Dylan to change. The nightstand fit conveniently beside the head of the bed. Taking a step back, he admired his work, using Proprioception to get a sense of the space. Dylan had lost a lot of weight and should fit comfortably in the room now.

  Everything was in place—everything except the glowrunes. Dylan, like every individual reliant on their sense of sight, couldn’t function in complete darkness.

  Charles prepared the arborhearth, mentally adding thick thorns along the walls and hallway to hang the artificial lights. He stepped into his workshop, which also served as his bedroom. Having everything he needed to live and work in one room was convenient. He grabbed a pair of shears and a spool of twine before heading to the storage room.

  He picked up the first glowrune. They were simple—touch once to turn it on, and touch again to turn it off. Even Dylan could use them. They held enough energy for a year of consecutive use, but they could be recharged and would remain useful long after Dylan’s temporary stay.

  The glowrune turned on, giving off a soft white illumination. He winced at the sudden brightness of the room. Even a single light was blinding in total darkness.

  Working instinctively, Charles fashioned a snare on one end of the twine to hang from the thorns. Then he wrapped and knotted a loose net around the glowrune, creating a cradle to hold it. Once ready, he placed it on a thorn in the storage room. Dylan was unlikely to ever need this room, but Charles suspected the husky man might find a way to create unthinkable situations—especially after hearing about some of his “exploits” during the quest.

  With a pattern established, he quickly created two dozen more cradles for the rest of the rooms.

  His parking time limit was approaching as he placed the final glowrune above Dylan’s headboard. They both shared a fondness for reading, and Charles had already stocked the nightstand with a few practical books to get him started.