The sun had only begun to climb the horizon when Maruzan and Velthur crossed the broad threshold of Harbinth’s Guildworks. The stones under their boots were damp with early dew, though dust clung to them from the road. The burlap sack of elderberries hung slack at Maruzan’s side, forgotten. It looked almost ridiculous now, swinging half-empty as if mocking the reason they had gone out in the first place.

  The Guildworks courtyard was already alive. Apprentices stoked the first forge fires, merchants unloaded wagons of cloth and iron, and porters carried crates with the speed of men who had done the same thing every morning of their lives. The smell of coal smoke and fresh bread mixed in the air.

  To everyone else, this was the start of another ordinary day. To Maruzan and his son, it felt like walking through a world that had tilted on its axis.

  The Guildkeeper was at the far end of the square, speaking with a heavyset merchant who smelled of spice even from a distance. His voice carried above the noise. When he spotted Maruzan and Velthur, he waved them over.

  “Well, well,” the Eborin called, grinning wide. “You actually picked something! I was beginning to think I’d sent you off to retire under a berry bush!”

  The grin faltered as they drew closer. Maruzan’s face was pale and drawn, his eyes hollow from a night without sleep. Velthur’s small hands trembled even though he kept them balled into fists at his sides. The Guildkeeper’s laugh died on his lips.

  “I tried to find you last night,” Maruzan said quickly. His voice was low and hoarse, the voice of someone who had spoken too little and thought too much. “But I was too late, so I came at first light. I don’t know who I’m supposed to tell this to.” He hesitated, his throat tightening. “But there was a kobold. On the road.”

  The Guildkeeper’s brow creased. He shook his head like a man trying to brush off a fly. “A kobold? Out there?” He forced a short laugh, but it had no humor in it. “What, did he challenge you to a duel over a berry patch?”

  He wanted it to be a joke, something simple to dismiss. Maruzan didn’t let him.

  “He attacked us,” Maruzan said. The words came flat and final.

  Eborin’s eyes shifted between father and son. His gaze caught on the dark streak of dried blood on Maruzan’s sleeve, on the dirt and scuffs along Velthur’s knees, and on the boy’s eyes, staring too long at the cobblestones, as though he feared they might crack open beneath him.

  The smile vanished completely. His voice dropped to something quiet, stripped of its usual showman’s flair.

  “You’re certain?”

  Maruzan gave a single nod. “I’ve had the feeling they’d come. Elzibar never made sense.”

  Guildkeeper Eborin exhaled sharply through his nose. He motioned them toward the covered area at the side of the square. “Come. Sit in there. Don’t speak of this to anyone yet.”

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  He turned and walked off briskly, already pulling a city watch token from his belt.

  Maruzan led Velthur under the canopy. The space was shaded by stretched cloth dyed in blue and bronze, casting everything beneath in a cool, dim light. They sat together on a low bench. For a moment, neither spoke.

  Velthur broke the silence first, his voice small. “I lost my sling in the fight. I had tried to find something to hit the beast, but I fumbled it. I guess I’m not a great fighter. How did you know how to fight?”

  Maruzan looked down at his hands. He had scrubbed them clean, but they still felt sticky, as if blood lingered on his palms.

  He thought of lying. Of saying it was instinct, or luck. But the story no longer seemed as strange now, as life had grown more strange in recent days.

  “When I was young,” Maruzan began slowly, “Elzibar was threatened. Pirates, they said. Not many, but enough to take whatever they wanted. We had no garrison. No soldiers. Just us.”

  Velthur turned his head, listening closely.

  “We were farmers, traders. Quiet people. We could have run, but we didn’t. A traveler came through. A sell-sword. No name he cared to give. His voice was rough, but his eyes sharp. He offered to train us, for coin, of course.”

  “Did you?” Velthur asked.

  Maruzan nodded faintly. “Every man with arms enough to lift a spear trained. He drilled us day after day, in the square and in the fields. How to stand, how to hold a line, how to keep fear from spreading. I was seventeen. By the end, I felt older.”

  His gaze drifted past the canopy, seeing not the busy courtyard but something long gone. “One morning, sails appeared on the horizon. The pirates came ashore. And just as quickly, they turned and left. We never fought them. They saw something they didn’t want: resistance.”

  Velthur’s mouth opened, then closed. Finally, he asked, “What about the sell-sword?”

  Maruzan’s brow tightened. “Gone. No one saw him leave. He wasn’t in the square, not in the barracks, not in the fields. He just vanished. Like he had never been there. And took no money as well.”

  Velthur was quiet for a long time. Then he whispered, “Why didn’t you ever tell me that story?”

  Maruzan started to answer, but footsteps interrupted.

  Eborin returned, but he wasn’t alone. Beside him walked a tall woman cloaked in charcoal-gray, the crest of the city watch stitched in silver thread at her shoulder. She moved with purpose, her steps sharp and measured. Her face was pale, eyes ringed dark from too many nights without sleep.

  The Guildkeeper stopped a few paces away. His voice was stripped bare of its usual warmth.

  “This is Commander Ennett.”

  The woman stepped forward. She studied Maruzan and Velthur with the steady gaze of someone used to sorting lies from truth. Her voice was firm, but not unkind.

  “I need to hear everything you saw,” she said. “Every detail. Start at the beginning, and do not leave anything out.”

  Maruzan felt Velthur stiffen beside him. He reached out and set a hand on his son’s shoulder, steadying him. His own heart hammered in his chest.

  The city was waking all around them. Merchants shouted prices. Bells rang to mark the hour. But under the canopy, in the cool shade, the world had narrowed to three people and the story that now had to be told.

  And as Maruzan drew in a slow breath, he understood something he hadn’t let himself face on the road.

  Elzibar was only the beginning.

  The danger was already here.

  And Harbinth would have to be ready.