Chapter 62 - Last Minute Prep

  The sun had just begun to dip below the treeline when Ezra stepped onto the quiet road leading back to the academy. The air was cool and fragrant with the scent of early spring, fresh earth, budding leaves, and the lingering warmth of sun-baked stone. Crickets had begun their twilight chorus, and firefly motes drifted lazily near the hedgerows that framed the outer wall.

  The academy gates, forged of wrought iron laced with rune carvings that glimmered faintly after dusk, loomed ahead. A lone figure leaned lazily against one of the gateposts, spear resting at his side.

  “Evenin’, Ezra,” came the familiar rasp of Tim, the gate guard.

  Ezra smiled faintly and lifted a hand in greeting. “Evening, Tim. You’re still out here?”

  Tim grinned, his lined face illuminated by the soft lantern light overhead. He wore his usual mismatched armor, pauldrons a size too big, a battered leather breastplate, and a faded red scarf knotted around his neck.

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” Tim replied with a chuckle. “I’m tougher than I look.”

  Ezra laughed softly. “Wouldn’t dream of saying otherwise.”

  Tim stepped forward, propping his spear upright. “Linton’s been coughing up half a lung since yesterday. I volunteered for the late watch. Beats paperwork, anyway.”

  Ezra adjusted the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. “You ever think of retiring? Spending your nights in a tavern somewhere, away from freezing stone and noisy students?”

  Tim gave a slow shrug, a wistful look passing over his face. “Maybe someday. But not yet. There’s still something to be said for standing guard over tomorrow’s heroes, even if most of ‘em can’t tell their sword from their boot.”

  Ezra smiled. He had always liked Tim. The man had a groundedness to him that few others at the academy did. He wasn’t a mage. He wasn’t a noble. Just someone who knew the world well and had decided to stay close to it.

  “Where you off to then?” Tim asked, nodding toward the folded map poking out of Ezra’s pack.

  “Expedition tomorrow,” Ezra replied. “Charity request. We'll probably have our assignment done by end of next week if I had to guess.”

  Tim’s brow creased, thoughtful. “Ah, that time of year already. You two always did take the tough jobs. What’s this one about?”

  “Shadowmane sighting near the Duskwind Forest. A bit of a hike, but should be manageable.”

  “A Shadowmane?” Tim’s face darkened just a little. “Careful with 'em. I knew a patrol mate who lost an arm to one of those.”

  Ezra nodded. “I’ve got bait. We’ll be cautious.”

  Tim gave a grunt of approval. “Good. And don't try to bite off more than you can chew, if there are two, I expect you to run, alright?”

  Ezra filed the advice away. “Yea, sure. Thanks Tim. See you tomorrow.”

  “Be safe, Ezra.”

  With that, Ezra stepped inside the gate and made his way toward the dormitories. The path curved gently through the garden courtyard, where the moonlight shimmered on dew-speckled leaves. Windows glowed faintly in the towers above, and somewhere in the distance, a girl laughed, the sound echoing across the flagstones.

  By the time he reached his room, the sky had darkened fully. He peeled off his jacket, set the bait kit beside his bed, and sank onto the mattress with a soft sigh.

  ***

  Sunlight streamed in through the high windows of the dining hall, casting warm gold across the polished stone floor. The scent of baking bread, sizzling eggs, and sweet fruit drifted through the air like a comforting embrace. Students clustered in groups around the long wooden tables, chatter rising and falling like the tide.

  Ezra sat in his usual spot by the corner window, savouring a fresh roll and nursing a mug of bitter black tea. Outsdie, the training grounds buzzed with activity. While still being used for their proper purpose, it had become the top hangout spot for the fourth-year students. There were mind mages practicing some illusions, and swordbearers dueling under the watchful eyes of instructors, but at the edges, many a student just sat in a group to chat.

  A familiar thud jolted him out of his thoughts.

  Marcel dropped into the seat across from him with all the grace of a sack of grain. His tray was piled high with food, eggs, sausages, porridge, and something that looked like yesterday’s leftover pie.

  “Morning,” Marcel mumbled, still half-asleep. “Gods, I hate mornings.”

  Ezra smirked. “Clearly.”

  Marcel rubbed his eyes, hair sticking out in all directions. “What time’s it?”

  “Half-eight.”

  “Ugh. It'd at least be bearable with some lasagna. Can't cope with Mondays otherwise.”

  Ezra took another sip of tea. “We’re leaving after lunch. That gives us a few hours to prep and check supplies.”

  Marcel perked up slightly. “Right. You get the bait?”

  Ezra nodded. “Got it last night. Pheromone-based. Bartender told me it’s mating season, so the males’ll be easier to draw out.”

  Marcel raised a brow. “Did you just say ‘bartender’?”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Ezra shrugged. “He’s a… specialist. Side business.”

  “Of course he is.” Marcel grinned, eyes twinkling. “You and your weird connections.”

  “They work.”

  “Yea, I guess so. But what're you gonna do if they end up in jail?”

  "Eh, nothing probably. Nothing leads back to me, so I'll be fine for the most part. I'm sure I can find some other sources of ."

  They ate in relative silence for a moment. Ezra watched the other students moving in and out of the hall, some gossiping about spell theory, others planning their own expeditions. A group of four students in their same year passed by, boasting loudly about their fifty silver hunt. Them noble brats again.

  Unlike what Ezra had suspected, they walked right past, without a thought for neither him or Marcel.

  “I checked the map,” Marcel said after a moment, wiping his mouth. “We can make it to the ridge by dusk if we leave around noon. Camp there. Then head to the village in the morning.”

  Ezra nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

  “We’ll want to eat lunch early then,” Marcel continued. “Twelve sharp. I’ll get the arrows checked before then. Still not happy with the fletching on one. And don't forget your dagger, that was hella expensive.”

  “Don't worry, I won't. I’ll grab some extra bandages and rations in the time.”

  They lingered a little longer, enjoying the rare moment of quiet. Outside, the birdsong was starting to rise again, and a light breeze stirred the banners above the archway.

  As they stood to leave, Marcel paused and looked at Ezra.

  “You really think a Shadowmane’ll be worth it?” he asked, more serious now. “Not just in coin. I mean the risk. In fact, we ain't even getting paid, so I guess just in risk.”

  Ezra met his gaze evenly. “We said we wanted to take on real threats. To prepare.”

  Marcel gave a nod, not needing more than that. “Then let’s at least make sure that we're the ones who get to come home.”

  ***

  The morning had mellowed into a late golden hue, the sun filtering down in soft sheets over the academy’s stone courtyard. The shadows were still long, but the warmth in the air promised a bright day ahead. Students passed by in small clumps, some chatting as they walked, others nose-deep in spellbooks, weaving through the tall white pillars that lined the outer walkways.

  Ezra adjusted the weight of his satchel on his shoulder, glancing across the courtyard toward the main gates. Beyond the shimmering runes embedded into the old archway, the city of Siyudad was already beginning to stir. The sounds of clattering carts and distant voices rose on the breeze.

  “We’ve still got some time before noon,” he said casually, stepping down the last stair with Marcel beside him. “Might be smart to run into town, grab a few things. You know, tent, maybe some bug repellent if we’re feelin' fancy.”

  Marcel gave him a side-eyed look, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Ezra slowed a bit. “What do you mean, don’t worry about it?”

  Marcel tilted his chin up like he was delivering a royal decree. “What do you think I was doing yesterday after you ditched me at the market?”

  Ezra blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Wait, are you saying what I think you're saying? Did you actually... do something useful?”

  Marcel nodded, looking entirely too proud of himself. “Yep. While you were off whispering with your shady bartender contact, I went shopping like an actual adult.”

  “You? An adult?” Ezra deadpanned, brows raising. “That’s not the Marcel I know. What happened? Knock your head on a potion rack or something?”

  “Ha-ha,” Marcel said, sarcastically. “Believe it or not, I can be useful. Picked up a full camping kit from got us a tent, fire starters, even got a little folding cookpot. I even haggled her into throwing a waterproof tarp in for free.”

  Ezra gave a low whistle. “You even remembered the tarp?”

  Marcel shot him a mock glare. “Look, if we’re gonna spend two nights in the middle of a shadow-infested forest, I’m not doing it sleeping in wet socks under a pine tree.”

  “Gods above, are you turning into me?” Ezra chuckled. “Next thing I know, you’ll be brewing tea at sunrise.”

  Marcel tapped his satchel proudly. “Already packed the tea leaves. I got two: Spearmint and Ginger, and Angleish Breakfast.”

  Ezra stopped walking, staring. “You’re joking.”

  Marcel kept walking without turning. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  They exited the courtyard, stepping beneath the arched gate that marked the end of the academy’s grounds. The guards on duty gave them nods, one of them, Tim, an older man with a faded sunburnt face and a chipped tooth, raised his hand as they passed.

  “Mornin’, boys!” Tim called. “Off to get yourselves killed?”

  “Don't worry about us,” Marcel replied cheerfully.

  Ezra gave a friendly nod. “We’ll bring back something nasty for your collection.”

  Tim laughed, waving them through. “Just make sure it’s already dead! I'm not quite what I used to be, doubt I could fight anything off.”

  The road leading toward the city curved gently down, bordered by hedges in full bloom, pale lavender and yellow blossoms releasing their perfume into the warming air. Beyond, the rooftops of Siyudad gleamed red and copper beneath the sun, dotted with weather vanes and the occasional glint of crystal runes humming with defensive magic.

  They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, the occasional breeze lifting their cloaks behind them. The city’s morning buzz met them before they even reached the first bridge, wagon wheels clattered over cobbles, and the shouts of market vendors drifted over the rows of buildings. The smell of baking bread and roasted nuts filled the air, mingling with the sharper tang of alchemical smoke from the nearby distillery.

  “You really got everything?” Ezra asked again, still a little amazed.

  Marcel gave a small shrug. “It’s all rolled and packed in a kit bag. I dropped it off at the storage shed by the wall, figured we’d pick it up today and be ready to move out by early afternoon.”

  Ezra slowed slightly, giving Marcel a glance. “This is… a new side of you.”

  “I’m evolving,” Marcel said with mock solemnity. “Soon I’ll be unrecognizable. You’ll have to start calling me ‘Sir Marcel, Lord of Logistics.’”

  Ezra snorted. “If you make me call you that, I’m throwing you into the first creek we cross.”

  They laughed, the easy kind that came from years of camaraderie.

  As they neared the small structure nestled against the academy’s outer wall, a squat stone building with an iron-banded door, Marcel pulled out a key from his coat and unlocked it.

  Inside, the air was cool and dry, smelling faintly of old dust, worn leather, and faintly charred wood. The walls were lined with shelves stacked with expedition gear, bundles wrapped in oilskin cloth, lanterns, rope coils, and travel packs. Marcel walked to the far corner and knelt beside a familiar canvas bundle. The bag was heavy and well-packed, straps tightened into neat lines across the thick brown fabric.

  “Ta-da,” he said, slinging it over one shoulder with a grunt. “Told you. All ready.”

  Ezra stepped over and unbuckled the outer flap to check. Inside, he saw the neatly rolled tent, flint-stone box, a sealed pack of dried stew pouches, and—he narrowed his eyes—an actual foldable tea kettle, with a box of tea to it's side.

  “You really weren’t joking,” Ezra muttered. “You packed tea.”

  “Gotta have something civilized when we’re out there fighting monsters,” Marcel said, winking.

  They left the storage building and made their way back toward the dining hall. A few students passed them, heading in the opposite direction, their uniforms fluttering in the breeze.

  “So,” Marcel said, swinging the pack into a more comfortable position, “we eat a solid lunch, then head out around noon?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Ezra replied. “Should be able to get there before night if we're quick, then we might be able to stay in one of the logger's huts, at the very least.”

  “Perfect. Hopefully we'll have time to scout around before the creature gets too active,” Marcel said, rubbing his hands together. “Shadowmane are sneaky bastards.”

  They passed under a canopy of ivy-draped arches as they re-entered the academy's outer ring. The faint ring of bells marked the hour, almost eleven.

  Ezra breathed in deeply. The scent of fresh bread wafting from the dining hall made his stomach grumble.

  “Alright,” he said with a grin, “Let’s eat. Last warm meal before we feed ourselves to the Shadowmane.”

  Marcel clapped him on the back. “To hot food, warm beds, and the poor choices we’re about to make.”