The next morning, we rented a mule to carry our tents and purchased food supplies before setting out. What the city called their western gate was just a heavily barred doorway. The road to Woodhoot was more of a well-traveled path than an actual road. Barely wide enough for a small wagon. Frequently, the path itself seemed eroded away. In those places, when they weren’t muddy puddles, the erosion uncovered tricky gnarled roots or embedded stones. Other parts of the path were overgrown with weeds and low-hanging branches. As we set out, a cold breeze likely carried from distant mountains whistled through the forest around us or pressing hard against us when we crossed through small grassland clearings.

We saw the first appearance of low-leveled monsters of our journey here. Level 3 Snakes and Level 4 Forest Beetles, nothing that truly concerned me. The snakes were just more aggressive versions of their natural kin, and the forest beetles were solitary brown insects the size of a puppy. While it was possible to just step on the nuisances, Kine took this as a chance to show off his combat skills. He led from the front, using magic missiles and ice bolts that targeted any small movements. Vigorous taunting from his sister convinced Walker to join in. Walker didn’t seem to have the same accuracy at first, but he seemed to catch up within the first few hours. I silently encouraged it, and with a minor complaint about the state of the path, had them also competing to raise and even it as well. Most of the trip to Woodhoot was spent this way, with the occasional conversation around Kine’s experience as an adventurer.

“We were almost out of rations when we made it to the third floor. The skeletons were closing in on us fast, and Drek, our best fighter was—”

“Third floor of what?” Lilly asked, interrupting him.

“Third floor of the dungeon. The Skeletal Labyrinth, near Fort Freetoni.”

“Oh, okay,” She answered cheerfully.

“Ah, and Drek, our best fighter was—”

“Kine?” She interrupted again, though in a nice voice.

“Yes, Lilly?” He asked through gritted teeth while Walker chuckled.

“What’s a dungeon?” She asked. I couldn’t tell if she was truly curious and didn’t know or if she was just enjoying interrupting Kine.

“It’s a place where monsters gather and breed, normally several connected caves. Lots of monsters that adventurers go fight for treasure,” he answered offhandedly.

“So why is there treasure there? Do the monsters make it?” Lilly pressed her questions.

“No. The dungeon gets them somewhere. I don’t know how. It can also make monsters, I think.”

Seeing an opportune time to interject, I spoke, “Dungeons do not make monsters or treasure. All of you attend.”

I paused long enough to ensure they listened while we walked, “Some of what we know about the third age, is that dragons ruled the world. They collected vast treasures to themselves, enormous hoards of gold and mithril and diamonds and much, much more. The dragons used a type of crystal to guard their treasures, some form of enchantment beyond anything we know now. But when the dragons left, these crystals remained behind. They continued to grow and spread, gathering treasure and monsters in equal measure. Some suspect that they are a vast enchantment, and the dragons will one day return to collect even more treasures for their hoard from the crystals they left behind. Others claim that the crystals are living beings that can think as well as you or I, and they are just carrying on the legacy they believe dragons left them.”

“Thank you, master!” Lilly said and bowed to me. Then she turned towards Kine, “See, that’s how you answer a question.”

We camped in a clearing that night. While it was obviously a campsite that had seen prior use, it didn’t look like that use had been within the past two seasons. Only a ring of stones and two cut tree trunks nearby were the remnants I saw. Both the [Mages], through encouragement from Lilly, competed to see who could cast the best warding and alarm spells. Tired from their day of walking and magical exercise, I didn’t have to wait long for them to fall asleep so I could cast my own over theirs.

Travel the next day was most of the same, though we did pass one farmstead. We arrived in the village of Woodhoot in midafternoon. Calling it a village may be giving it more credit than it deserves. A total of seven buildings and one inn, with no walls to separate it from the wild forest around it. The inn functioned as an inn, a tavern, a general store, a community hall, and nearly any other function the village required. Surprisingly, there were fifty or sixty people that lived in Woodhoot, most of which were part of seven expansive families taking up the other seven buildings. A few hunters and trappers also claimed the village as home but mostly lived in the wilds. It was clearly a logging site; as evidenced by large stacks of freshly cut timber waiting to be transported and a field of tree stumps. We could hear the sounds of [Woodcutters] and [Loggers] chopping as we approached.

Outside the inn, a young boy of maybe ten years named Fin took our mule to a barn when we entered. I would like to say that all conversation in the inn stopped as they looked in awe at our majestic greatness, which they did. It was much less impressive to say that considering only two people were in the inn at the time. The innkeeper and a single [Logger].

Inside the building, it looked much as one would expect. Dirt floors, a single countertop. Several long tables and benches. A hallway in the back that opened to a giant shared sleeping room.

“Ya got guests,” the logger rumbled at the innkeeper, a veritable fountain of perception. He had the same features as the boy, Fin, who led away our mule. Brown hair and brown eyes and hawkish nose, though he was likely thirty years older than the boy.

“Sure do,” the innkeeper answered. In contrast to the logger, who seemed muscular and fit, the innkeeper looked chubby. In his fifties, the laugh lines and jowls on his face gave the impression of a hard life. The similar nose indicated the two were relatives, but I couldn’t tell how close the relation. “I’m Miles and this is Brom. What can we do for you this evening, milords?”

“Nemon and assistants. Meals and a bed for the night, for starters,” I spoke ignoring the title he gave us.

“We have a stew bubbling in the back and some bread from this morning, though I don’t have nothin’ fancier than that. Got apple cider but no wines. We don’t get a lot of your type of people around here.” The innkeeper turned and began pulling clay mugs from underneath his counter.

“Fair enough,” I said and took a seat on one of the benches. Surprisingly, it was well built and didn’t tilt or creak when I sat on it despite the wood not being stained or sealed.

The logger Brom and the innkeeper Miles shared a glance, but that was when Lilly decided to speak up. “What do you call your inn?” She asked with all the delicate nuance of an angry bull.

“Well, er, to it don’t rightfully have no name. Why, you wanna name it?” The innkeeper didn’t even look up from where he was pouring as he spoke.

“Can I really?” She asked.

I didn’t see the young boy come back in, but he jumped right in the conversation, “That ain’t fair, Uncle! If I’d a known it could be named, I’da asked!”

Both Kine and Walker decided to join me at the table, sitting next to each other on the bench across from me. I tuned out the conversation when the innkeeper brought us cups of ale. The drink would have tasted better if it didn’t have a hint of dirt. That might have come from the cup and not the ale, though.

“So, if you don’t mind me askin’, what brings you around these parts?” He joined us, sitting on the same bench as I did, though giving enough room for two people to sit between.

“I’m looking for some tower ruins. I’ve been informed that they lay about a day to the southwest of Woodhoot. You know anything about one?” I asked. If it was a local landmark, the people here probably know the most about it.

“Southwest? It’s all swampy in that direction, I don’t think I—” Miles started to answer before the boy took an interest.

“Oh, ya mean the bandits castle? I used to be able to go play out there before them bandits moved in.”

“Boy,” the logger Brom said one word, and the kid’s mouth shut with a snap.

I looked the innkeeper in his eyes and asked, “Is there anything else you could tell me about it?”

He shook his head and looked down. “Ain’t no castle there, just a single building. Not sure how many bandits are innit. One or two of ‘em used come this way to try to sell off things when they first came around. I never traded them for nothing. Don’t want no bloodcoins here, no sir. Hadn’t heard from ‘em in a while, so they might not be there anymore.”

“Why didn’t you tell the baron about it?” I asked. Surely her guards would be interested in bandits.

Miles chuckled, “I’m the Alderman out here for Woodhoot. If I went to Baroness Lark, she’d just tell me to round up everyone in the village and take care of ‘em myself. Gotta see her ladyship once a year anyway, and if it ain’t about that singer or about making her look good to other nobles, she don’t care one bit.”

I nodded my head. I’ve met nobles like that before. It was a shame that was happening here, but it wasn’t my business.

“Ain’t you gonna tell ‘im ‘bout Nightstalker?” The boy asked.

Both Brom and Miles sighed before Miles answered him, “Now, Fin, you know that’s just made up.”

“No, it ain’t! I seen for myself!”

“You’ve seen the Nightstalker?” Miles asked while Brom gazed evenly at the child.

“Sure have! Mister, it’s a spider bigger than this building! Meanest monster there ever was! It only come out at night, that’s how I saw it. I crept up to the second floor before them bandits moved in,” he crossed his arms and nodded in satisfaction.

“Fin,” The logger spoke the kid’s name in a tone that anyone would recognize.

“Uh oh,” the kid gasped, his eye growing big and his face losing color. As he realized that he might have said something he shouldn’t have, he started to look around in panic. When Brom stood up, he darted towards the door. I could hear from inside when his father caught up to him.

We made small talk as the night crept in, and I turned in early. In the morning, we decided to set off towards the tower. We followed a hunting trail leading through the thick forest and coming out into a swampy wetland. Even inside the forest, the path was covered in a blanket of moss that squished with water when we stepped. The trail kept going and I let both the mages take turns raising and flattening it so that we didn’t have to wade through knee-high muck. In the swamp, the trees grew crooked, twisting in and around themselves, and dark green moss hung in thick mats from branches.

Even the monsters changed. Five times Kine and Walker fought Level 8 Moss Leeches, a disgusting three-foot-long leech covered partly in moss that drops down from the trees in groups of three or four. The body of the leech was a pale yellow that was easy enough to spot when you know what to look for, but we didn’t the first time. We also saw a pair of level 10 Forest Bears once. The eight-foot-tall beasts showing how much they didn’t care for the leeches either as they tore through a group with angry roars.

We stopped around midafternoon to take lunch as the trail ended against a ravine. It was a jagged opening close to ten feet across and forty feet deep, but I couldn’t make out where the sides ended. Thick swamp water splattered along down the slopes before squelching into the muddy pit at the bottom. I could only imagine what horror lurked there, but I didn’t see anything that moved. After we ate, I used [Earth Manipulation] to pull stones from the surroundings and build a wide bridge arching over the gap and we continued on. I didn’t bother with ornate designs, leaving only tiny indentations the size of a pinhead to let the moss take hold. The closer we got, the more excited I felt. The swamp felt familiar. Very familiar.

Darkness crept in quickly in the swamplands, and the cold waters created a mist that limited vision. I could feel my heart beating fast in my chest when I finally saw it. Even though the tower stood cracked and crumbling, even though moss and ivy grew up the sides like the swamp was trying to pull it down, even though it had been centuries, I still recognized my old home.