The guildhall was so quiet now that the creak of leather straps and the clink of armour as Ronald moved could be heard by all. He let Bheldur settle against a post near the wall, no cheers greeted him, no cups raised. Even the drunkards in the hallsat sober-eyed, watching the dwarf as though he carried death itself on his shoulders.

  Ronald stepped forward, his lithe frame lit by the flickering hearthlight. He didn’t waste words.

  “Admiir Tabrekeg took his party into the caves.” His voice carried across the hall, grave and measured. “Torrel Goldfern, Brannur Catgaheln, Bheldur Giantguard here, and Zendal Fathare.

  A murmur rippled, names known, faces remembered. Ronald’s gaze swept the rookies, his silence pressing them back down.

  “They found something in those caves,” he continued, each word weighted. “Something that had no right to be there. Not goblins, not beasts. The dead.”

  The word seemed to sour the air itself. Some rookies shivered; others leaned in as though to deny what they’d heard.

  “Undead,” Ronald growled, spitting the word like a curse. “Skeletons. Corpses walking. Gods only know why or how, but they were there and waiting.”

  The room seemed to shrink. For the newcomers, who had sweated and bled against goblins, drakes, even a troll, the idea of fighting what should not live clawed at their thoughts.

  Ronald’s voice dropped lower, rumbling like distant thunder. “Admiir knew the truth in an instant. They couldn’t win, not in those depths. So he ordered a fighting retreat. Shield to shield, step by bloody step. Brannur at his side, Zendal hurling fire until his mana was ash, Torrel dragging the wounded to their feet, Theren’s hands shaking as he poured what healing he had left into torn flesh and broken bone.”

  He paused, jaw tight. “But Admiir saw it. Saw the tide wasn’t turning. He knew they weren’t all getting out.”

  Every adventurer in the hall leaned forward now, breaths held.

  Ronald turned slightly, his eyes cutting toward Bheldur. The ranger had not moved, save for the twitch of a hand that clenched his bowstring as though it were a lifeline.

  “He sent Bheldur ahead,” Ronald said. “Told him to run, to carry word back to Ashenfall. To warn us what had been found. The rest of them…” His voice faltered for the barest instant, and then he finished, low and grim. “The rest held the line. Long enough for one to escape.”

  The silence that followed was suffocating. The rookies stared at Bheldur at his broken armour, his vacant eyes and the meaning sank in. Admiir and the others…

  They weren’t coming back.

  Ronald straightened, looking out over the guildhall as though daring anyone to speak. “You all think you’re adventurers now. You think goblins and beasts are the worst the wilds can throw at you. But hear this and understand. The world beyond our walls is darker than you know. And that darkness has begun to stir.”

  The silence finally broke.

  “No—no, that can’t be it!” Zolma Studz rose so quickly her chair toppled backward. “We can’t just sit here while Admiir and the others—”

  “They’re already gone.” Bheldur’s voice was hoarse, his head still bowed. The words cut like steel though the room. “I saw it in his eyes when he ordered me on. He knew.”

  Murmurs rippled, harsh and frantic. Adqen Windheart slammed his palms against the table, sparks of uncontrolled mana skittering across the wood. “Then we go back in there! All of us together—”

  “And die,” Ronald snapped, his voice cracking through the hall like a whip.

  The room froze, every eye locked on the scarred ranger. His presence filled the hall now, a mountain of resolve and iron authority.

  “You think yourselves strong after your first quests?” His gaze swept the rookies, pinning them where they sat. “You think slaying a swarm of goblins or apprehending a band of bandits makes you ready for what lurks in those caves?” He leaned forward, knuckles pressed to the table, voice low and thunderous. “You are not. This is a job for seasoned adventurers.”

  Noe Farrowrage bristled, fists clenched white. “Then what, what are we meant to do? Just drink and laugh while veterans do all the real work?”

  Ronald’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll live. You’ll train. You’ll grow strong enough to survive the next challenge that comes your way.” His tone softened, but only slightly. “If you rush in now, all you’ll do is swell the ranks of the dead.”

  “But—” Strandor Staggust started, only to flinch as Ronald’s hand slammed against the table.

  “No buts.” The ranger’s voice was final, unyielding. “The cave system is off-limits to all new adventurers. From this day forward, only vetted veteran parties will take contracts tied to it. You will not go there.”

  The words hung heavy in the air, pressing down on the rookies’ anger and desperation until all that was left was frustration.

  Perberos exchanged a glance with Josh, his hand resting on his bow as if itching to act. Brett leaned forward, jaw tight, but said nothing. Even Carcan’s smile was gone, her lips pressed in a thin line.

  One by one, the rookies’ protests guttered into silence. The fire that had surged in their chests dimmed, replaced by a mix of helplessness, fear, and most dangerous of all, a gnawing sense of inadequacy.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Ronald straightened, shoulders broad as an oak. “You want to help? Then live to fight another day. Take your contracts, strengthen your arms, your spells, your skills, your courage. When the time comes and it will, we’ll need every hand strong enough to hold the line.”

  He turned, his cloak shifting like storm clouds in the firelight, and the other mentors moved with him. Caistina’s expression was unreadable, Kal grim-faced. Bheldur, broken and pale, followed in silence.

  The hall remained hushed long after they were gone, the rookies staring into breakfasts gone cold, into fires that suddenly cast too-long shadows.

  —

  The guild hall slowly thinned as veterans claimed contracts and rookies drifted back to their parties in uneasy silence. Josh and his companions lingered, huddled around their small table tucked near the back wall. No one spoke at first. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable, broken only by the occasional crackle of the hearthfire.

  Josh leaned forward, elbows on the table, staring into the dregs of his ale. “Torrel… Bran…” His voice caught, surprising him with how raw it sounded. “We trained beside them. Ate with them. And now—” He shook his head, jaw tightening. “Gone, just like that.”

  “They weren’t weak.” Brett’s tone was flat, brittle. “If even Admiir couldn’t hold the line, then what chance do any of us have?”

  Carcan had gone very still. Her fingers traced the rim of her cup in slow, restless circles. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than usual, stripped of its usual joy. “I didn’t even… know them. Not properly. We all laughed, we all sparred, but I never asked them about home, or family. I can’t even picture Torrel’s voice right now.” She swallowed hard, eyes dropping to the table. “And now there’s nothing left but bones in some cave, or worse.”

  Josh looked at her, surprised by the guilt shadowing her face. He wanted to say something, but the words felt useless.

  It was Perberos who finally broke the silence, his voice steady but tinged with something more deliberate. “Look… my sister and I talked about this last night.” He glanced at Carcan, then Brett, then Josh. “We want to stay together. As a party. I know the guild will shuffle rookies around to balance numbers, but… the four of us? We work. We cover each other’s gaps, and we’ve already been through more than most of the others.” He looked directly at Josh. “If you’re willing, we’d like to make it official. Stay matched up.”

  Brett’s eyebrows rose. Josh straightened, caught off guard by the certainty in Perberos’ tone. Carcan blinked, then gave a short nod.

  “Honestly…” Josh rubbed at the back of his neck, a faint smile tugging despite the heaviness in his chest. “I’d be glad of it. Fighting with strangers right now doesn’t sound right.”

  “Same here,” Brett said quickly, a little too quickly. He leaned forward, gripping his staff with both hands. “I don’t want to start over with someone else watching my back. You three know how I fight now. That counts.”

  “Good,” Perberos said, relief flashing briefly in his eyes. “Then it’s settled. We stick together. We get stronger. We avenge the others”

  A quiet moment passed between them, and for the first time since Ronald’s announcement, the air felt a little less suffocating.

  “So,” Josh said, exhaling hard, forcing the shift. “We can’t do anything about Torrel or Bran. Not today. But we can be ready for what comes next.” He tapped the edge of his battered shield, dented from the troll’s blows. “First thing I need is a new shield. Maybe some greaves if I can afford them, most of the cuts I’ve taken are to my thighs.”

  Perberos gave a short laugh, trying to force the sadness down. “Good plan. I need more arrows anyway. I went through nearly my entire stock in that yesterday.”

  Carcan finally looked up, her eyes a little clearer. “I want potions. Mana potions, at least but maybe even a few backup healing potions. The guild has a few vendors, though most of the good ones will be getting bought out by veterans going to the cave I imagine.”

  Brett’s head lifted at that, eyes sparking with interest. “Do they sell mana potions?”

  Carcan smirked faintly, the first trace of her usual sharpness. “Oh, now you’re paying attention.”

  Josh allowed himself a chuckle, though it carried a weary edge. “All right then. New shield, arrows, potions, food too. And after that… we keep moving forward. No matter what’s waiting in those caves.”

  For the first time that day, their little circle felt whole again.

  Perberos leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming thoughtfully against the table. “With everything going on, I’d wager training’s as good as finished. The guild will tighten ranks, put rookies where they’re needed most, filling the gaps left by the veterans off fighting the undead. Which means…” He flicked a glance toward the corner where Caistina now sat quietly speaking with another mentor. “She won’t be with us much longer. We’ll be down a member.”

  Josh frowned, following his gaze. The thought of losing her stung more than he expected; her sharp tongue and steadying hand had become a strange sort of comfort. “You’re right,” he admitted. “If it’s just us four, we’ll have a gap.”

  Brett shifted uneasily, leaning on his staff. “So the question is, do we look for another front-liner, or another ranged fighter?”

  Perberos nodded. “Exactly. Another shield or heavy fighter could help anchor us in a melee. Right now it’s only you, Josh, holding the line. If you fall, the rest of us are exposed, no offence.”

  Josh grimaced but didn’t argue. He knew the truth of it, especially after the troll fight.

  Carcan leaned forward, tapping her chin. “But another ranged fighter would mean less risk overall. Keep the enemy at a distance, thin their numbers before they even reach Josh. It would also mean Brett and Perberos aren’t alone when it comes to pressuring from afar.”

  Perberos tilted his head. “True, but too many ranged fighters can backfire. Close-quarters ambushes, tight caves, narrow corridors, it’s a nightmare if you can’t put steel between yourself and the enemy.”

  Brett raised his eyebrows. “And a second front-liner doesn’t guarantee success either. Two people taking hits means twice as much healing needed. Carcan will be stretched thin.”

  “I can manage,” Carcan said dryly, but her tone softened after a moment. “Though… you’re not wrong. We need balance. Someone who can step up front if Josh needs it, but isn’t useless at range.”

  There was a pause, the group falling into thoughtful silence. Then Carcan’s expression shifted, reluctant but decisive. “What about Bheldur?”

  Josh blinked. “The dwarf ranger? From Bran and Torrel’s group?”

  Carcan nodded. “He’s a ranger, but I heard he specializes in axes, both up close and throwing. He’s got the durability to hold a line, but also the reach to fight at range if needed. He fills both roles.”

  Brett frowned. “After what he’s been through? He barely made it back alive. Do you really think he’ll want to keep adventuring?”

  “That’s the question,” Carcan admitted. “But… if he does, better he’s with a group that respects him than thrown in with strangers. And we’d be stronger for it.”

  Josh considered it, weighing the image of the battered dwarf standing before the mentors earlier. There’d been grief in his eyes, yes, but also a hard glint, something unbroken.

  “I’d fight beside him,” Josh said at last.

  Perberos gave a small nod. “Agreed. It’s worth asking. But not us, he doesn’t know us like that.”

  Carcan smirked faintly. “Leave it to me. I’ll speak to Caistina, see if she thinks he’d even consider it. If she thinks it’s worth raising with him, she’ll make the introduction.”

  Brett leaned back, exhaling. “If he says yes, that makes us five. A full party. Balance of roles, stronger odds. I like it.”

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