Killian studied Rowan for a moment before letting out a booming laugh. “I like you, Jamis,” he said, shaking his head. “No beating around the bush. You’re right, an honest disagreement is a great place to start.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at one of the archers. “Misk, bring the chairs, would you?”

  Rowan arched an eyebrow. “You bring chairs to the Wilds?”

  Killian looked back at him with mild confusion, a smile playing on his lips. “Of course,” he said. “You’d be surprised how often they come in handy.”

  So this is their angle, Rowan thought. Opportunists.

  He felt himself relax a bit. This was a negotiation now—a familiar game he was more than comfortable playing.

  As they settled into their chairs, Killian glanced around the cavern with practiced ease. “By my count, there are four dozen dead goblins here,” he began, his tone casual but assessing. “With the hobgoblin and a shaman among them, the bounty is going to be substantial.”

  “So this is a shakedown?” Rowan asked, leaning his staff against the chair.

  Killian smirked, shrugging. “Call it what you like.”

  He drove his spear into the earth beside him, the blade slipping into the hard ground like it was a sheathe. “We all need to make a living somehow.” His tone was light as he waved his team back. They nodded, relaxing and putting away their weapons, a few of them starting to chat amongst themselves.

  Killian shifted his gaze back to Rowan’s group. “Standard practice is to leave an expired quest up for a week. This one only went up today,” he pointed out. “What you did was in poor form—we had every intention of completing it.”

  Rowan glanced at Annie.

  Litwick, like every city, had its own brand of politics. And those politics multiplied tenfold when adventures were involved. He wasn’t familiar enough with the place yet, but Annie was, she’d know where they stood.

  After all, the Guildmistress was her aunt, and there wasn’t anyone in the city with more sway than her. They could have probably cut this short if they mentioned that little fact, but she wanted to keep it quiet. So that was what they did.

  Annie sighed, rolling her eyes. “He’s right. It was kind of a dick move,” she admitted, throwing a pointed glance toward Nemir. “This genius picked it, and I didn’t think to ask until we’d already left the city.”

  Nemir frowned, folding his arms. “It was marked as a priority quest. And with good reason too,” he said defensively “If they’d been left to fester for another week, the goblins would have finished building the village and we’d have a larger problem on our hands.”

  Killian nodded. “And the city will thank you for ridding it of this threat. But it wouldn’t have been a week,” he continued. “We came here today, and we need to be reimbursed for time lost.”

  Nemir opened his mouth, but Annie cut him off, nodding to Killan. “Ten percent of the quest reward, no bounty.”

  Killian grinned, arching a brow. “A strong opening.”

  The members of the Steel Fist, now at ease, produced more chairs. They unfolded them with quick, practiced movements, pulling out dried meat and canteens. Three thin, interlocked pieces of metal formed each chair, with a cloth connecting their ends—a smart tool for seasoned adventurers.

  Annie moved to Rowan’s side while the rest of their team took a few steps back.

  The healer in Killian’s group wandered over to Silvia, eyeing the markings Rowan’s whips left on the wall with open curiosity. “Who did that?” she asked, her tone calm, as if she was speaking to an artist on the street, rather than standing in a cave among armed strangers.

  “Uh, hi?” Silvia replied with a bemused smile, lowering her bow. “I hope you’re asking about those smaller holes,” she pointed them out. “Because that would be me,” their archer said proudly.

  The tension slowly bled out of the Grove as well, their grips relaxing, and the adrenaline of the standoff retreating.

  The healer tilted her head, studying the distant marks. “Those are quite far away,” she conceded. “But no, I meant the larger channels. Who made those?”

  Rowan caught Killian’s eyes, his brows rising in a silent question.

  “What do you want me to say?” Killian replied with a shrug, taking a drink from a flask he’d pulled from his belt. “Healers are an odd bunch.”

  Silvia inclined her head towards Rowan. “The guy with the stick,” she muttered, settling on the ground and grumpily examining her arrows.

  The healer gave Rowan a curious look. “I’d like to speak with you once your discussion is over,” she said, watching Silvia for another moment before sitting down beside her, tucking her robes neatly under her knees.

  Rowan smothered a grin and turned his attention back to Killian.

  “We hired her for this mission,” he explained. “And clerics aren’t cheap.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t complete the quest. We did,” Annie said, keeping her tone firm. “Once we report it, it’ll get bumped up to Silver, and the reward won’t just be a few gold. Ten percent is more than fair.” She folded her arms, leaning back.

  Rowan bit back a smile.

  She’s really going for the throat

  “You’re right,” he conceded, sounding more amused than irritated “But we could have. We’ve taken out nests before. And more than a few shamans as well.” He paused, tapping his chin. “How about twenty percent of the bounty, and you keep the full reward? Less hassle that way.”

  “Twenty percent is steep, and we both know it,” Rowan cut in, reaching into his coat, hiding his hand from view and summoning the pouch filled with fangs. “There’s around fifty goblin’s worth here,” he jangled the pouch. “Three dozen of them were lesser goblins, with another dozen being Iron-ranks.”

  Killian’s eyes flickered with greed. “And the Core?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Rowan kept his expression steady. He’d expected this—the Core was worth more than everything else combined. It was only natural he’d focus on it.

  But lying through his teeth never failed him before.

  He met his gaze with practiced indifference. “Gone,” he said. “It dissipated as soon as we dug it out. Not enough mana inside it to hold its form.”

  Killian chuckled, obviously unconvinced. “Convenient, that. Isn’t it?”

  “Convenient or not, that’s what happened,” Rowan replied, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “So here’s what I was thinking. You get twenty percent of the reward, and ten percent of the bounty—not including the hobgoblin.”

  Killian snorted. “Leaving out the hobgoblin cuts our take in half,” he said, looking at Rowan appraisingly. “Fifteen percent, across the board.”

  Rowan made a show of thinking it over.

  It wasn’t much to him, all things considered. But that didn’t mean he would just give the greedy adventurer what he wanted.

  “Ten percent, including the hobgoblin,” he finally said. “That should cover your ‘inconvenience’.”

  A tense silence fell between them as Killian weighed the offer, scratching his chin and muttering something under his breath.

  Finally, after a long pause, his easygoing smile returned. “Deal!” He extended his hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

  Rowan shook his hand, keeping a straight face as Killian’s grip tightened. The twenty levels of difference between them was apparent, but he didn’t let it show.

  “Likewise,” he replied, pulling his hand back. He untied the pouch, counting out the agreed-upon share and let the bloody fangs spill into Killian’s waiting hands. “That’s about ten percent. Give or take a tooth,” he smirked, enjoying the grimace on the other man’s face as he held the bounty. “We’ll deposit the gold from the reward into your accounts.”

  “Fair enough.” Killian handed the bounty off to one of his teammates who quickly stored it away.

  Annie looked at Rowan, giving him a slight nod before returning her attention to the Silver-rank. “So, what’s your plan?” she asked, gesturing at his team. “We’re heading back to the city. You joining us?”

  Killian shook his head. “We’ll stay here for the night. There’s a Stalker pack a few hours east of here we need to deal with. Better to see it done now when we’re already out here,” a smile tugged at his lips. “Before, you know, someone takes it out from under us,” he nodded to the team. “Safe travels.”

  And with that, he strode away to join his team at the far end of the cavern, their makeshift camp slowly taking form.

  Rowan exhaled, glancing at Annie. “That went well.”

  She gave him a considerate look. “Yeah, I suppose it did.” She smiled.

  Nemir pulled the tip of his sword out of the ground, finally sheathing it across his back. He joined them, a slight frown on his face. “Was it really necessary to pay him off? By right, it was our quest. They didn’t earn a single copper of it.”

  Annie sighed. “By right? No. But in a city like Litwick, unwritten rules matter—especially with Silver-ranks. There’s only a few dozen of them, but they’re the bulk of the forces keeping the surrounding Wilds in check,” she said, glancing at Killian’s as they pulled out tents. “Besides, they were actually on their way to complete it. A small payment keeps us on good terms.”

  Rowan kept his opinion to himself. This wasn’t his city, and these weren’t his people.

  What Killian did didn’t sit right with him. There was little doubt in his mind that if Rowan hadn’t been here, that ‘cut’ would have been much higher. But what ate away at him even more was the fact if the spearman had tried something, Rowan couldn’t have done anything to stop it.

  That was something he was intent on changing.

  It’s time to work on advancing, he decided. When we get back, I’m not leaving the house until I get my Core to Orange.

  It was time to see it done.

  “At least we kept the Core,” Omi added in with a sly grin. “Nice work.”

  Rowan chuckled. “Now we just need to find someone to buy it.”

  “The Guild can handle that,” Annie said. “They'll take a cut, but it's safer than finding someone on our own.”

  “Sure, let’s do—”

  A tap on his shoulder cut him off.

  “So you lied,” a voice said.

  Rowan jumped, spinning around.

  The healer stood behind him with a mildly perplexed look. “Could I speak with you now?”

  Silvia flashed a wide smile. “Her name’s Zoe. And she’s my new favorite person,” she said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “She’s a bit… sideways, but I like her.”

  Zoe frowned, sidestepping the attempted hug. “We’ve just met. That seems hasty.”

  “I’m a great judge of character,” Silvia shrugged.

  “So am I,” Zoe’s frown deepened, looking intently at the archer. She shook her head, glancing back at Rowan with that casual expression back on her face. “I don’t feel it,” she said, smoothing out her robe.

  Silvia’s eyes sparkled. “I love a challenge.”

  Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hello, Zoe. Please excuse her,” he said with a sigh. “I’m Jamis. And sure, we can talk.”

  He’d almost forgotten she was with them. But her knowing he’d lied about the Core wasn’t much of a concern—he doubted she’d tell Killian, and even if she did, they wouldn’t be able to find it.

  As he watched her, he noticed her sharp, green eyes—the kind that seemed to take in more than she let on. Her wheat-white hair contrasted their intensity, falling over her shoulders. Her robe was of quality make, with more than a few enchantments woven into it, alongside the heraldry of Eldara’s priesthood.

  The Goddess of Nature’s followers belonged to the distinct Orders; the Verdant Oak, focused on nurturing and guidance; the Emerald Fang, wardens that kept balance between predator and prey; and the Cleansing Light, the healers.

  The first was the largest. Their members, known as Guide’s, followed Eldara’s teachings the closest. There was nothing more nurturing than directly guiding a person down a Path. It was their way of praying, which fed divine power to their deity.

  The second were the Oak Wardens, focusing on guardianship and balance. Often enough, it was humanity that was the prey, making them fierce protectors of settlements.

  Healers were the rarest of the bunch. Following that path required a certain mindset. A fearlessness to head into danger with a determination not to harm anything. Eldara choose her healers carefully, making them a peculiar group.

  Rowan had always been distrusting of gods. A harvesting scheme for suckers, as his brother had liked to put it. His family had loosely followed Aeloria, the goddess of Magic. But they were never worshipers. It had been more a respectful acknowledgement, with no blessings involved.

  Rowan knew about the Gods and their orders well. Knowledge had been his only asset after he’d resigned himself to being dull, so he’d studied the world meticulously, wanting to be useful in any way he could.

  Without Awakening, he’d expected a life of shortcomings. He didn’t have a Core, meaning he had no spells to make him powerful. And no System, meaning no skills to make him useful.

  The fall of his House had changed that. Leaving him weary and despondent.

  Rowan had spent the year between that day and his Awakening in a haze of potions and low company. House Davar had been granted his family's seat, and when they learned he was alive, they gave him a manor, a stipend, and dismissed him as irrelevant.

  Then the waiting started. Envisioning a knife in the dark everytime he closed his eyes. Whatever else, he was still the last living member of his house. Killing him was something he’d expected them to do.

  But each day they didn’t, he found himself growing angrier.

  They wouldn’t do it, he’d realized. Because it didn’t matter.

  He hadn’t Awakened, meaning he wasn’t an Heir. The title of Duke would pass on to whoever was holding their throne. The Silent Seat.

  Rowan was left to do whatever he wanted. Because he was utterly powerless. An object to pity, and occasionally, ridicule.

  It hadn’t been that long since that changed.

  The day Rowan Awakened, he’d also gotten his Core, the Vault, and his Trait. But most importantly, momentum.

  Burning down the mansion had been strangely cathartic, and it had the added bonus of making people think he died. His Awakening had changed things, in more ways than one. It wouldn’t have gone unnoticed, and it wouldn’t have been long before House Davar realized that the reason they weren’t getting the [Title] was because someone else already had it.

  That was when the knives would come.

  The Vault held teleportation tokens to all the different regions in the kingdom, and the Verdant Vale was perfect for what he needed.

  Distance, and anonymity.

  Rowan had thought about going to one of his family's allies. There were House’s he thought he could trust, but how far does loyalty really go?

  The only place he knew for certain he’d be safe was at the Ascendant Academy. There was someone there whose loyalty Rowan didn’t doubt, but going to it wasn’t in the cards yet.

  The tokens send him to a region, not a specific location. It had taken him a week to find Litwick the first time he’d used one, and he’d almost died more than once during the journey. The only thing that kept him alive was barely managing to master [Burning Hands], and Kai helping out.

  He was much stronger now, but most of the kingdom was still a death sentence to him. The Academy was in the middle of the Onyx sands, where a shaman like the one he’d fought would be considered at the very bottom of the pecking order.

  Monsters at Gold-rank or higher roamed the region, meaning there was a bare minimum level of power Rowan needed to reach before attempting a trip there.

  He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair.

  Zoe’s voice brought him back to the present. “Are you alright?” she asked, tilting her head. “You seem… strained.”

  “I’m fine,” Rowan shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “I had my leg crushed a little bit ago, which wasn’t all that pleasant. But I’m alright.”

  Her gaze flickered down, a faint glow illuminating her eyes. “Hmm, quite the potion,” she muttered softly. “Rare quality, if I had to guess.”

  Rowan’s brows rose slightly.

  She could tell that much?

  “Anyway,” Annie interjected, giving Rowan a meaningful look. “We’re losing daylight, so whatever you need to talk about, make it quick.”

  She leaned closer to him and whispered. “And you still need to meditate. I’d like to leave here sooner rather than later with you capable of throwing something other than a firework.”

  Rowan nodded in agreement. She was right. He’d feel better with some mana in his Core, and on the way back, he wouldn’t need to save it.

  Zoe adjusted her robe with careful deliberation. She looked a bit younger than him, but straightened herself like she was giving a formal speech.

  “I will try to be concise,” she began. Her voice softened, though her gaze remained steady. “Would it be possible for me to join your team?”