They took the road at first light and kept a pace that would have made a mule complain. Frost still clung to the ditch grass and hedges where the sun did not touch, and Max’s breath steamed as he walked with shield slung and cloak tight to his throat. Alina kept beside him, bow and quiver hanging on her shoulders, eyes down on the road, thinking. “On the night of the second attack,” she said at last, as if it had been sitting behind her teeth since dawn, “the System offered me a class change. From Farmer to Ranger.” She said it without theater. Just the truth. “I took it.” Max blinked, then smiled. “That’s… good. That’s r-really good.” Elira stepped up on Alina’s other side, eyebrows climbing. “That explains the sharpshooting. Your arrows seemed to always go where you wanted.” Alina nodded once, almost embarrassed by the praise. She shifted her grip on the rolled purse she had been carrying like it burned her palm. “I meant to give you this earlier,” she said. “The twenty-four silver that was promised on the posting. It is not enough, I know, but I want to pay–” Max stopped her with a palm up. “No. Keep it.” Elira chuckled softly and looked at Alina. “He means it.” Alina’s mouth flattened. “I will not be a burden.” “You are not,” Borin rumbled from behind, voice like old oak. “You stood your ground when it counted. You fought clean and you listened. Keep your coin.” “Use it on gear,” Calder added, tapping the purse with two fingers. “Light leather. A proper quiver. Spare bowstring. Maybe a better bow if the shop does not cheat you. Think of it as an investment with a great return.” Max’s tone gentled. “You’re w-with us now. That makes you party. More than party, honestly. F-family. And we do not charge family for pulling them out of the fire. We m-make sure they do not walk back into it with a worn bow and a thin coat.” Something in Alina’s face eased. She exhaled through her nose and looked away so they could not see her smile. “Fine,” she said. “Gear it is.” She tucked the purse into her coat. They walked on in a quiet that was not so awkward anymore.

  They arrived back in Brindleford by early afternoon, their legs sore and eyes raw with too little sleep. Their wounds had not completely healed, so they likely made quite a sight as they made their way through the city. The Adventurers Guild was crowded, wood and iron and voices pressed together. When they pushed through the double doors, heat from the big hearth washed over them, along with the stink of wet wool and old boots. Conversation filled every corner. Clerks scribbled. Adventurers haggled. Someone laughed too loud.

  Mara stood behind the counter tallying coin, her dark hair braided tight and ink on her sleeves. Max stepped up, the others fanning behind him. He hefted the sack from his shoulder and dropped it. It hit the counter with a wet slap and a meaty jingle where blood had dried in the ties. The hall went quiet. Heads turned. Tankards stopped halfway to mouths. A burly looking Warrior near the hearth swore under his breath. For once, nobody made a joke. Mara’s quill froze. “What… what is this?” “O-one hundred goblin ears,” Max said. “From Crestwood Farm.” A murmur rippled outward like rings in a trough. A hundred. Too many for one farm. The five of them looked like they had walked out of a bad story, scuffed, bandaged, and hollow-eyed, yet still standing. Mara’s fingers trembled once as she tugged the tie loose. She flinched at the smell, looked, then swallowed. “By the gods,” she whispered. Her clerk’s voice found a foothold. “We will need time to count and record. Payment will take a while.” Max nodded. “W-we’ll wait.” Mara jerked her chin at a junior, who was already staring with eyes too wide. “Fetch the Guildmaster. Now.” The boy bolted up the stairs. Conversation in the hall crept back, but softer, glances flicking toward the counter and back again. A hundred ears said more than any boast.

  They had barely sat when a man in a dark, well-kept coat descended the stairs. Broad across the chest, iron-gray at the temples, hands that had not forgotten weapons even if they did not carry them, he moved in the way people made space for. “Guildmaster Halbrecht,” Mara said, already sliding out from behind the ledger. “You will want to hear this.” He looked at the sack, at the five of them, and then around the room that had gone taut with curiosity around them. “My office,” he said. “Now.” He turned back around and walked up the stairs. The party followed, feeling every eye following them. The Guildmaster did not make unnecessary appearances, so this was likely to set the murmurs ablaze even further.

  The office upstairs was cramped, walls and shelves cluttered with maps and ledgers. A single square window looked out over the square. Halbrecht shut the door himself and stood with his back to it for a heartbeat, as if walling off the noise outside. “Tell me what happened," he said as he made his way behind his desk to the plush chair. He fell into it as Max gave him the basics of what went down at the Crestwood Farm. He quickly recounted the experience: in the first raid, seven came and they killed six. The second raid, fourteen came and they killed eleven. The third raid, too many to count in the dark, but somewhere between fifty and a hundred. After all was done, thirty-three lay slain on the ground, yet it had not seemed to make a noticeable dent in their numbers. They were able to clear the storehouse with ease. They burned everything. The fence went first, the barn second, and the house last. The party, and Alina, had been cut, bruised, and nearly broken before Garret Crestwood held the line alone. He bought them the time to get clear. When the farmhouse finally fell, he was already gone.

  Alina’s voice cracked as she added, “He died with ten goblin corpses around him. He fought until he couldn’t stand. He… he saved us.” Her hand trembled in her lap. She pressed it flat against her thigh until it stopped. Borin added "he is the only reason the five of us are here to give this report, Guildmaster. He died a heroes death. It should not have come to that." Halbrecht’s face did not move as he listened to Max's accounting of the events, but his jaw tightened when he heard the last part. He glanced at Alina, then dropped his head and closed his eyes. For a moment no one spoke. Then Elira said, sharp and certain, “Goblins do not act this way. Not here around Brindleford. Not this many. Not after taking losses like that. They should have broken and run, Guildmaster.” Calder nodded. “Something pushed them. We do not know what. Hobgoblins are the easy answer, but even they do not usually drive this many into the open without a purpose. This was abnormal, plain and simple.” Borin’s tone was grim. “It was more than hunger. Hunger makes fools brave, but this had shape to it. Something’s hand was on their backs.” The Guildmaster let out a long breath. “All right.” He stood and looked out of the window for a moment, then turned back to them. “I will send word to regional command about this. But I will not wait for them to answer. I will also send two Guild parties north to the Brookhollow farms. One to reassure the villagers and stand watch. One to hunt sign and report. The worst thing that happens in my jurisdiction is being surprised. We do not get surprised. We gather information and prepare.” His eyes flicked to Alina. “Your father’s name will be spoken in the Guild records. His fight bought four adventurers and his daughter the chance to live, and that will not be forgotten.” He drew open a drawer, pulled out a small purse, and pushed it across the desk. “Two hundred silver for the bounty. This, fifty silver, is a Guild bonus for restoring order and for the proof you brought. Do not argue. Take it.” Without a word, Max took the small pouch, which clinked softly as he picked it up, and handed it to Elira. She would split the coins amongst them later. He turned back to Guildmaster Halbrecht. "That concludes the r-report, Guildmaster. Is there anything e-else you need from us, Sir?" Halbrecht shook his head, and responded "No, thank you. That will be all. Before you go, I want you to know one thing though. As much as it might hurt, as much as you may think back and come up with ways you could have done things differently, you all did the right thing, cutting bait and escaping. Garret Crestwoods sacrifice will not be in vain, I promise you that. You may leave, and collect your bounty pay downstairs from Mara. Shut the door on your way out, please." He walked back behind his desk and sat heavily in his chair, pulling out parchment and a quill as the party left his office.

  Back in the hall downstairs, Mara confirmed the count and divided the silver into neat stacks. “Forty each,” she said, pushing the piles across the counter. “Do not thank me. Just... please, try to not make a habit of bringing in sacks like that.” She squirmed slightly as she said that. Max just chuckled and said "No guarantees, but we'll try." Once the pay was divided amongst them, he turned back to Mara, and nodded his head toward Alina, who was standing quietly at the back of their group as they crowded the counter. "We need to register a new Adventurer. Copper Rank. We will add her to our party as well." Mara's eyes lifted slightly in surprise, but she quickly adjusted and pulled a ledger from beneath the counter. She beckoned Alina up to the counter without looking up as she flipped through the ledger, looking for an emoty page. "Name, Class, and Level please" Mara said, as she found a empty space in the ledger. She looked up and saw Alinas face, still raw with emotion, and her face softened a bit. "Alina Crestwood. Ranger. Level 3." Alina responded quietly. Maras eyes raised slightly at the level, but she did not say anything. She bit her lip when she heard the last name. She leaned down and scribbled into the ledger. "Thank you. The fee is waived, due to the circumstances." She looked back up at Alina before adding "I'm truly sorry for your loss. Welcome to the rolls. Please, try not to die." Alina just nodded softly at that and retreated. Max took over again. "Now, we'd like to add her to our party, and register as a true party." Mara nodded and replaced the ledger in front of her with another thinner one from below the counter. "Party leader?" Max looked around at the others. Calder just grinned at him. Borin nodded once. Elira rolled her eyes and said "Max" before he could respond. He glanced at Alina who just shrugged in a 'why are you looking at me? I just got here' sort of way, then turned back to the counter. Mara jotted it down in the ledger, then asked "party members Names, Classes, and Levels? This will help us assign you work that is within your abilities." Max looked around and saw everyone else was looking at him waiting for him to start. "Max Hayes. Warrior. Level 9." Elira stepped up next "Elira Sorrel. Rogue. Level 8." Next was Calder "Calder Veyric. Mage. Level 9." Borin nodded once before adding in his rumbling voice "Borin Ironmantle. Cleric. Level 10." Mara wrote quickly and neatly as each person spoke, then glanced up at Alina before scribbling in her details as well. She closed the ledger with a snap, then looked up at them and grinned. "Well, congratulations, you're an officially recognized true party now. Reserved work is now available for you." Max smiled back, then said "T-tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. W-we need time to rest, resupply, and re-recover." Mara smiled softer at that and nodded. "We'll be here whenever you're ready. Go take your well deserved rest."

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  They did not linger after their business was completed. The square outside felt too bright, the air too sharp. But, coin meant choices, and choices meant survival. Elira gave everybody their share of the Guild bonus. They agreed to split up to shop, then reconvene in the evening at the Wayfarers Rest inn.

  Max traded his battered shield for a sturdier oak-and-iron rim, heavier but far more solid. He bought a longsword with a clean edge and a balance that felt alive in his hand, and it came with a sheath that did not chew the blade every time it was drawn. He added leather bracers and simple greaves to protect his forearms and shins.

  Calder went looking for reagents, but the memory of a knife sliding between his ribs made him stop at a leatherworker’s stall. He bought a padded leather vest cut to fit under his robes, light and flexible, enough to turn a glancing blow into a bruise instead of a death sentence. He bought jars of liquids, powders folded in paper, and other small things from a magic shop.

  Borin meanwhile had his shield strap repaired, then visited a weapon shop and bought a new warhammer with more weight in the head. It sat in his hands like it had always been meant for him. Afterward, he went to the church, left a small donation, and spoke a prayer for Garret Crestwood beneath the carved stone face of his god.

  Elira bought a bundle of good bolts, a lockpick set, rope, and a wicked skinning knife that looked more like a curved short sword. She left her daggers to be sharpened and returned to collect them later, running her thumb along the edge until it bit. She then finished her shopping by picking up some new leather armor, as her old set had multiple punctures in it.

  Alina listened to their advice and spent her coin on gear of her own. A new bow with a smoother draw, a fitted quiver, light leather armor cut for movement, and a short sword no longer than her arm, sharp and dangerous. Max caught sight of it and said quietly, “I will show you how to use it. No sense carrying steel you cannot swing.” She nodded, lips pressed thin, but her eyes said thank you.

  That night at the Wayfarer’s Rest, as the party shared a meal in relative silence, Max asked Alina where she was staying. She hesitated, then admitted she had not decided. He waved the innkeeper over, introduced Alina, and said she needed a room. The man, who knew Max well by now, nodded and found her one. The rest of the party had already taken rooms at a house across the square, but Max favored the Wayfarer’s for its quiet and the way the staff did not ask questions. They finished their meal, promised to meet in the morning before heading back to the guild, then went their separate ways. Max and Alina retired to their rooms.

  Max had just finished removing all his armor, and had set his gear aside, when a knock came on his door. He opened it to see Alina, hair loose, eyes red from crying, and invited her in. She sat in one of the two chairs for a moment before speaking. "I couldn't sleep," she admitted, "every time I close my eyes, I see the flames, hear the screeching, feel the sting of their weapons. Remember my Da..." she trailed off. He poured her a drink, let her talk, and simply listened. When she was done, he began telling her stories, stupid things he'd done, simple and meaningless. Maybe it helped, maybe it didn't. Eventually, Alina passed out, the cup still held lightly in her hand. He took it and placed it on his desk, then he gently lifted and carried her to his bed, pulling the blanket over her, boots and all. He didn't have the heart to wake her just to pull them off. Finished, he smiled softly and took the chair, watching the door until sleep took him too.

  In the morning, she woke, mortified, which Max could see by the way she refused to meet his eyes, and smoothed out hair that did not need smoothing. "Thank you," she said stiffly. "A-anytime," Max responded. They made their way back down to the common room, where the rest of their party was waiting. Elira clocked the awkwardness between them instantly, grinned, but quickly schooled her expression. Alina sat at the breakfast table silently, eyes down, her grief was still plain, raw in her eyes. Borin set a hand on her elbow and said, “Eat. Then work. The day becomes easier when you give it shape.”

  They returned to the Guild Hall, gear purchased, eyes sharper than the day before. Before they could even make it to the counter to speak with Mara, Guildmaster Halbrecht met them at the stairs and studied them as if measuring weight. “Do you have a Cleric in your party?” “Aye, I'm a Cleric,” Borin said simply. “Good,” Halbrecht replied, "come to my office. I have work for you." They followed him upstairs to his office, and he sat behind the desk before drawing two reports from his coat. He indicated the first report. "The village of Stonebridge. Graves have been meddled with there. One body is missing, two other graves were only disturbed. Captain Harlan is your contact. He's a solid man, who will not panic." He put it down on the desk in front of Max, then held the second report up. "The second is the town of Greenglade. Corpses went missing from a skirmish site east of the mill road. Headwoman Maera is your contact. Hard woman, will not waste your time.” He fixed them with a steady look as he placed the second parchment on the desk. “I want to be clear. These might be grave robbers. Might be worse. But, you do not fan rumors. You do not say the word necromancer unless you have the proof in your hands. If you find it, you send word to me fast and keep your heads down until we send weight. Understood?” Borin nodded once. “Understood.” “Pay is five gold on completion. Bonus of one gold for confirming theft and naming culprits, two more if you bring back proof enough for hangings. More if it is cult or necromancy. Travel is a day east to Stonebridge, then 6 hours southeast to Greenglade. No heroics. Do the work, then come back.” “Who do we report to if you are not here?” Max asked. “Mara. Or the night clerk. Do not skimp on detail. They will find me if it is deemed urgent.” Elira tilted her head. “Anything we should not do?” Halbrecht’s mouth twitched. “Do not dig up a grave without a village witness standing by. Do not hang a man for being poor and stealing a coat off the dead. And most importantly, do not get yourselves killed. I am short on people who can count to a hundred and make it look easy.” Max chuckled softly. “We can do that.” He took the two reports and handed them to Calder, who immediately began reading. Halbrecht stood, then shook each of their hands, even Alina’s, whose grip was strong despite the rawness in her eyes.

  They stepped back down into the hall. Light slanted through the high windows, turning dust into slow gold. The chatter rose and fell like a tide. Max adjusted the new shield on his shoulder and felt the extra weight as security, not burden. Alina touched the copper badge at her breast like she still did not trust it to be real. Borin gathered them with a look. “Eat,” he said. “Then supplies. Then road.” Elira hooked a finger in Max’s sleeve and nodded toward the door. “Come on, hero. We have a schedule.” Calder tucked the reports under his arm and fell in step, already thinking through questions to ask the captain when they arrived in Stonebridge. They crossed the threshold together, and the day met them with a dry wind, the smell of bread baking, and work ahead. Sunlight caught on Alina’s new copper badge as they left the guild, the metal flashing once before she tucked it close.

  Behind them lay ash and loss. Ahead waited the road and the first steps of something none of them could quite name yet.