The dozen horses made short work of the remaining half mile between the Red Knights and Olric’s farm.

  The pounding of hoofbeats was only slightly dulled by the thick planks of Olric’s lodge, but Jack felt like he could feel them reverberate in his teeth. They had quickly retreated inside, and Olric had laced some white gauze with a salve he claimed would numb the lingering pain. He was right, of course, but that only made the absence of his left pinky finger all the more severe in his mind.

  It was like it had never existed at all.

  He reflexively clenched and unclenched his left hand, trying to get accustomed to its new weight. It didn’t help.

  I wonder if one of those red knights has a healing potion tucked away in one of their saddle bags, Jack wondered darkly. If I could snatch one, then maybe it could regrow my lost digit.

  He knew now that it was illegal for civilians to purchase them, but hadn’t Barnaby given him one? Maybe if he convinced one of them to part with it, he could use it quietly, and no one would be the wiser?

  The riders pulled on their reins and brought their steeds to a uniform halt in a phalanx formation in front of Olric’s home. The lead rider dismounted with clean, efficient motions. A second later, their fellow knights dismounted and immediately began to survey the area, shouting orders and discoveries within moments. Jack heard and watched as they found the aftermath of the recent orc raid.

  In a whirl, Olric turned to face Jack, something like fear passing over the old man’s features.

  “You’re from a town called Thurnfeld, and came looking for work. Your parents died in the battle of Burrowblossom. I denied you work, but you were persistent. You’ve been here four days. I’m aloof, but I gave you a bed, work, and the promise of coin. You’ve mostly been weeding and picking my dewcap mushrooms. We fended off the orcs through a combination of my skills and the wards. You were barely involved.” Olric spoke quietly, but Jack heard the urgency there.

  The lead knight’s metallic bootsteps creaked the wooden stairs outside.

  They were out of time.

  Without a word, Jack gave him a nod that he understood.

  There was a clipped knock on the door, and Olric went to answer it. He gave one last desperate glance at the mechanic, but then opened the door.

  Jack was thankfully positioned in such a way that he could see the knight without them immediately noticing him. She wore a large, plumed helm, and her red armor was sleek and lighter than most. It wasn’t the intricate work like Lori’s, but somehow more elegant. Simple.

  She stood tall and was easily an inch or two past Jack’s respectable 6’2”. Granted, she wore reinforced steel boots, but even then, she bore her height like a proud lioness or even a dragon. There was nothing timid or shy about her. And peeking through her helm were thin red strands of her vibrantly red hair. Not ginger.

  Red.

  And across her back was the biggest sword Jack had ever seen in his life. It dominated her back like a kite shield, yet bore the unmistakable rod of a hilt, crossguard, and pommel. Her strength stat had to be astronomical, yet she walked and maneuvered like it wasn’t even there.

  “Good evening, sir. Sorry to intrude, but we witnessed a disturbance in town and came to investigate. Is everything in order?” she asked.

  Her tone brooked no room for nonsense and bordered on cold. Still, there wasn’t any hostility, either.

  Jack’s pulse quickened as the knights started to check the bodies of the dead. A few peered through the foggy windows. He tried to see if one of them was Derrick or Sathem, but he didn’t know their armor or other distinguishing factors to be sure.

  He quickly used Inspect on the woman at the door.

  [Captain Yelena Stark - Level 28]

  He quickly got another notification.

  [Congratulations! Through effort, your skill, Inspect, has leveled up!]

  [Inspect: Level 1?2. Rank: Novice]

  He used the skill again, feeling a rise of hope build in his chest, only for it to be dashed against the proverbial rocks a moment later.

  [Captain Yelena Stark - Level 28]

  What changes between levels 1 to 2? He wondered.

  The captain’s head whipped to the side to face him.

  He resisted the urge to gulp or take a step back, but sweet Lord, were her eyes scary! They were so blue they were nearly white, yet appeared to be more blue because of it. And when framed with her red hair, he finally knew they reminded him of. They were frozen lakes amidst a forest of fire.

  In short, she was beautiful.

  And she was staring daggers directly at Jack.

  “Who is he?” It was an order, not a request.

  “This is my new farmhand, Jack,” Olric said slowly, deliberately, as if he were talking down some wild beast.

  She stepped inside Olric’s home and strode over to where Jack leaned against the windowsill. It was only when she stood less than a foot away that Jack remembered that he was, in fact, quite shirtless.

  “Who are you?” Yelena demanded, folding her arms across her chest. The marauder’s blade strapped to her back obscured Olric almost entirely from sight.

  “I told you, captain, he’s–” Olric started, but she raised a hand to stop him.

  “I asked him. Who are you and why are you here?” Yelena asked.

  Jack couldn’t read her at all. Was she pissed, bored, frustrated, tired, or just acting professionally? He seriously had no idea and so decided to take his cues from Olric. He’d be polite, but concise. The less he said, the more likely he wouldn’t snare his foot in a proverbial trap.

  “I’m Jack Thatcher. I came here four days ago from Thurnfeld. Couldn’t get work there, so I came here. Saw Mr. Olric’s farm and asked for work. He said no, but I persisted. He relented, and I’ve been managing the dewcap mushrooms and some weeding across his plots.” He tried for a smile, but it came out forced. “It’s been tough work, but he pays, so that’s good.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Jack rubbed the back of his neck.

  “And the bandages?” Yelena persisted.

  “Orc raid. Olric was just finishing patching me up when you guys came along. He took care of them, but I made sure to help how I could,” Jack answered.

  The captain took in his answers with a painful amount of deliberation. She barely moved, though her red hair caught the breeze that crept in after the door opened to reveal another red knight.

  “Report,” Yelena ordered without looking at her subordinate.

  “Ma’am!” the knight responded, giving a strange salute as he did.

  The man pounded his right fist against his chestplate, then lifted it above his forehead so that his forearm was parallel with the ground. It was new to him, but he couldn’t deny there was a certain power to the gesture.

  “We found fourteen corpses, and there was considerable magical residue from an orc sorcerer. They either fled or were incinerated beyond recovery. All weapons appear to be accounted for, save for whatever catalyst the orc mage used. We’ve collected and stored all possible weaponry, and have begun repairs on the damaged fence!”

  Sure enough, Jack glanced out one of the far windows and caught several of the knights mid-lift of a large log. They shifted it with a stupid amount of ease, settling it into a freshly carved groove. A second log followed, and soon the broken section of the fence was repaired. It wasn’t pretty, but it sure was efficient.

  He had to give it to these knights. They knew their work. And the more he watched, the more distinct they were in behavior and attitude from the knights he met when first arriving. Those knights had been narcissistic, lewd, and cruel. These were like soldiers.

  “Thank you, Sergeant Stensen. That will be all,” Captain Stark said.

  The sergeant saluted again, gave a deep nod to Olric, then exited the house.

  After another moment of studying Jack, the captain relaxed her posture. “Well, it seems all is in order. Thank you both for your service to humanity. It must’ve been a tough fight, given your wounds, but I doubt it was much trouble for you, Olric. We’ll leave you both to recover, then.”

  She walked past both of them, her footsteps oddly light despite the weight of her gear. She paused at the threshold and grabbed the doorframe. She winced as if she had forgotten something and turned to face the pair of them.

  “Ooh! I almost forgot. Jack, can you remind me what the three characteristics are of a ripe dewcap mushroom, and which tool is used to safely extract them?” she asked. Her tone was so pleasant that it was nearly as much of a shock as the question itself.

  His breath caught.

  She knew. She had to know. Why else would she ask such probing and specific questions? She knew he was the Banisher, and she would run him through with that massive sword of hers, and there was nothing he or Olric could do about it.

  Jack heard Olric open his mouth, but they all knew that if he answered for him, it would only make his position here weaker.

  No, he had to think, and he had to do it fast.

  A single bead of sweat gathered on the back of his neck and traced a line down his back.

  I can do this. I can still fix this.

  She was suspicious, yes, but that didn’t mean she had enough information to justify skewering him right then and there. Nor did she seem like the type to stab first and ask questions later.

  Swallowing once, he smiled and answered, “Honestly? I have no idea. I’m not a farmer. Olric has me watching them for any changes, but I couldn’t tell you if they were ripe if they jumped up and said it to my face. I’ve been using a trowel mostly for the weeds, but I don’t think the old man wants me within ten miles of harvest time of his precious mushrooms until he thinks I’m ready.”

  His voice was thankfully steady, and he managed to make his grin thread the needle between chagrinned and playful.

  Her brow furrowed at his final words, but she didn’t contest anything. When she looked up, some of that ice returned.

  “What were you? Back in Thurnfeld?” she asked.

  Jack could smell the trap, and so answered with a bit of truth and a whole lot of omissions.

  “I wasn’t. I wandered around mostly. Tried finding work as a mechanic, but no one opened their doors here. I’m hoping to work with Olric long enough to earn some coin and start buying up the materials and tools I need to set up shop,” he answered easily.

  “Okay, Jack the Mechanic,” Captain Stark responded slowly. “Well, here in Thistlebrush, we don’t tolerate vagrants. See to it you keep yourself busy, and that you don’t cause my town any trouble. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jack said, but couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

  Her brow furrowed further.

  “Mount up!” she yelled to her knights while continuing to stare down Jack.

  “Yes, Captain!” came the chorused reply.

  “Captain,” Olric said in way of farewell.

  Stark gave the old farmer a curt nod, then turned away, striding gracefully to her massive warhorse. Out of curiosity, Jack inspected the beast.

  [Gallant the Warhorse - Level 17]

  Jack was surprised to see that the captain had named her steed, but supposed it could’ve been from the breeder just as easily. Still, the rich chestnut-colored animal was majestic. His mane was braided, and had the faint hints of blonde hair intertwined with the warm brown of his hide. Jack didn’t have a great frame of reference for horses, but the beast had to be at least seven feet tall at the shoulders—far larger than anything he’d heard or seen back on Earth.

  The other steeds were similarly built.

  He shot off Inspect some more, confirming that while Stark’s horse was the highest level, all of them were at least level 12-13.

  [Congratulations! Through effort, your skill, Inspect, has leveled up!]

  [Inspect: Level 2?3. Rank: Novice]

  In synchronized movements, the dozen riders turned their mounts around and returned across the dirt road that wound its way back to one of Thistlebrush’s gates.

  When they were well out of earshot, Olric whirled on Jack.

  “Are you out of your void-touched mind, kid? You lookin’ to pick a fight, or does that just come naturally to you?” Olric demanded.

  “What are you talking about?!” Jack said defensively. “I answered her questions, and even managed to cover my tracks a bit there at the end! And what was I supposed to do? Pretend I’m suddenly a magical botanist?! Get real. I’m new here, or did that slip your mind?”

  “Oh, it’s very much at the forefront of my mind, kid. Have no doubt of that. And similarly, don’t doubt that it’s going to be the pressing thought on your new friend over there. Captain Stark is going to watch you like a dragon.” Olric sighed, cursing under his breath. “There ain’t no such thing as an unemployed mechanic, Jack. The only reason you’d be out of a job is if you were on the run. She thinks you’re a criminal now. Worse, she thinks that I know that and still gave you a job.”

  Jack’s anger deflated.

  “Damn it,” he whispered.

  “And that ain’t the half of it. Based on her questions about the mushrooms, I’d bet my left eye that she thinks you’re either the bastard who fled from town after getting a lieutenant commander’s squad killed, or that you’re the Banisher. Both are bad, but in either case, it means you won’t be able to take two steps into Thistlebrush without her knowin’.”

  Jack’s lip curled up in frustration. He wanted to punch something.

  “Well, how do I fix this?!” he shouted.

  If Olric was offended or concerned by his outburst, he didn’t show it. “It ain’t all bad. By sayin’ you’re a mechanic and workin’ for me, you unintentionally staked my reputation to yours. If we keep you out of trouble, that should be enough to keep the vultures away. It’s no guarantee, but it’s a start.”

  “People like you that much?” Jack asked, skepticism written plainly in his voice.

  Olric chuckled. “More like they fear me. I’m the crazy bastard who set up his farm a stone’s throw away from the shroud, after all. Anybody stupid enough to do that is worth keepin’ at a distance. Somebody who survives more than a single harvest out here is worth keepin’ a close eye on.”

  “Why do you farm so close to the shroud?” Jask inquired.

  “None of your damned business is why,” Olric replied with a raised eyebrow.

  Got it. Touchy subject. Let’s switch tactics.

  “Fine, but while I am willing to help you around the farm, don’t forget that I need to actually level up. I’m still the Banisher, right? What am I supposed to do?” He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, but it was hard.

  Olric took him for a long moment. He folded his arms over his chest and twisted his lips around as if he were chewing on something.

  “Well, you fought well with your fists today, so I’d figure you got at least level 2 in pugilism. Keep training that skill, and whatever else you’ve got. That’s the best way you’re going to survive out here, what with the weapons ban and all. Knives aren’t allowed out of homes and certain shops, so hand-to-hand combat really is the best way for you to go.”