To say I was upset was an understatement. The [Adminstrator] that led me out kept giving me fearful looks, but I ignored her. I did not want to be appointed an Alderman. What made her think she could place herself above me? Was she purposely looking down on me or simply ignorant?

Just the idea that I would be part of the political structure disturbed me. Greatly. That I could be called on in times of war? That the Baroness could summon me to court whenever she felt like it? Who knew how often she’d seek me out to answer some inane question about magic that an [Apprentice] could answer? Or worse yet, a ball! As if I have time to dance around and listen to blathering idiots talk about crop deficits or tax evasions. I wanted to escape the entanglements of society so that I could conduct my experiments undisturbed—it’s the whole reason I was out here!

The worst part, the absolute gut-punch of it all, was the risk that I’d be given villagers or such nonsense to care for. I don’t want that responsibility! I’ve been an officer. I’ve dealt with soldiers dying and grieving widows. I’ve been the elder of an academy, responsible for all its students. I successfully avoided the entrapments of political authority for decades. Why now? It’s difficult enough for me to watch those around me die from age over and over again when I'm not responsible for them. And I’m already working on a solution for that. Why would I want to worry about saving people from plague or monsters or hunger? This appointment was just another distraction in a string of distractions I didn’t want or need.

It infuriated me, so much so, that I walked right past a waiting Walker and Lilly who stood outside a parked carriage in the square.

“Master?” Lilly asked.

“Didn’t go well, master?” Walker made a very accurate assumption.

I stopped and took a deep, calming breath. After the recentering myself, I turned and offered them a smile, “You could say that.”

“Does that mean you will travel with us? We have the supplies and the wagons waiting outside the gates—the eastern one because they wouldn’t fit through the western one,” Lilly asked, making me wonder just which one of the two of them was responsible for gathering everything so quickly. Unfortunately, I was leaning towards the younger being the more responsible. No matter. It’s done.

“I have one more stop to make, but it’s outside the gates. It shouldn’t take long, though,” I answered and we stepped into the carriage. I could probably reach the cabin with a lightning strike from the base of the hill. It might be a little off in aim from the lower position. Not being able to see through the trees might hurt my chances too. But if I assume one out of every seven strikes true, then I should be able to make my point clear in less than twenty bolts.

Sten delivered me right to the base of the hill, as if he was expecting it. Given the circumstances, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. What surprised me, though, were the ten [Rangers] and a [Paladin] standing at attention behind the Scout Commander. While the Scouts’ uniform was a pale light brown with a thick green cloak, the Paladin practically glowed in his shiny, reflective armor. Thinking about the sheer amount of polish wasted on it gave me headaches.

“Wait here,” I told Lilly and Walker as I stepped from the carriage. Just when both of my feet were on the ground, the scouts, paladin, and the commander snapped into a crisp salute. Another ploy, given how difficult it is to be angry at men saluting you. I returned the salute, more so that the poor souls behind their commander wouldn’t suffer for it.

“I wanted to offer my sincere apologies, Mr. Fargus,” the commander began, “I had no idea one of the bandits was nobleborn. My scouts didn’t go inside, they just counted and I believed you would have simply burnt them out of the tower,” he offered a low bow to follow his words, the kind of thing that meant more when you had troops behind you watching.

“It’s Alderman Fargus, now,” I answered with a scowl.

I heard the sounds of a suppressed laugh coming from the man, but he didn’t show it when he stood up from his bow.

“You owe me,” I told him. He wanted to play the favor-for-a-favor game, then I would just play it better.

Surprisingly, he nodded. “I do. That’s why I have two gifts for you. Our headquarters has a dungeon beneath it, one that only the Scouts have access to. I have hired a gardener that my men will escort in to plant your… little tea flowers. I can then have a [Ranger] stop by once a month with a fresh supply. Secondly,” he motioned towards the [Paladin] behind him, “Mr. Adam is the guildmaster there in Lark. I’ve personally hired him to offer his services as a Truthreader should you desire it.”

The paladin gave a bow to me as well, one that would be difficult for me if I were stuck in his heavy armor. I ignored it, looking at the commander, a man whose name I still didn’t know. Both gifts were traps. I knew it. He knew it. He knew I knew it. Scouts stopping by my tower once a month to deliver my tea? More likely an excuse to keep an eye on me. A [Paladin] as a Truthreader? And he’s the guildmaster of the local adventurer’s guild? If I turned that down, it was like I was shouting that I was summoning hellspawn or sacrificing villagers. And if I took the man with me, it was as if I were saying I was incapable of executing justice with my own hand. Both traps were tests of a sort. Testing to see if I would chafe at a watchful eye. Testing to see if I was planning anything inappropriate.

This was likely the man’s goal all along. He knew he couldn’t contain or control me. When he discovered his ‘gift’ didn’t inspire a sense of gratitude, he made a different decision. Likely, he wouldn’t try to use me again directly, but rather have one of his enemies ‘accidentally’ chase a Scout towards my tower. Or leverage someone else with a threat I didn’t actually make. That was the kind of man he seemed to be.

These were all reasons to hold a grudge against the man, but he did offer to grow my tea. That was important. I would simply outlive his games. If the military doesn’t reassign him a handful of years from now, he’ll only live twenty or thirty more. Still, if I don’t offer a token resistance, then he will interpret it as a complete victory. I began with a single finger adamantly pointed upwards.

“I agree to accept these gifts on two conditions,” I started, stressing the word gift to make sure everyone present understood I didn’t believe them to be. I paused just enough for him to open his mouth before I continued—petty, I know, but it just happened to me earlier today so it was worth it, “First, that delivery of my tea flowers is a perpetual responsibility of the scouts. I don’t want to renegotiate it with the next commander.”

“And the second?” he grunted as if he didn’t understand the significance of the first. I would live hundreds of years. The scouts would be delivering me tea for long, long past the memory of why. Maybe they’ll turn it into some graduation test. Dare the dungeon and deliver the flowers, only then you will be a true Scout!

“The second is that you never speak to the Baroness about me again. You made her very upset speaking some untruths about me. Now, there will be no marriage between her and I,” raising the second finger as I finished speaking. I shook my head in dismay, as well, because that's what good actors do. The two points were unrelated, of course. The commander's lies had nothing to do with the baroness's marriage plans. But the local guildmaster didn’t know that. And with his truthtelling, my statements couldn’t be construed as lies. Certainly, I led him to a false assumption. The judgmental look Adam the [Paladin] gave the uncomfortable commander more than made up for the annoyance of his earlier interference with Lady Lark. I can only imagine the rumors this will cause around town.

“Then our business is concluded,” the commander said in a rough voice, loud enough for his men to hear. I had the smaller wagon with the flowers pull around, and the [Rangers] left with half of them.

While there wasn’t really a road that circled Lark, there was a path the guards marched on patrols flat enough to keep the vehicles from getting stuck. Walker rode in the passenger side of the foremost wagon, and Adam in the one behind him. My carriage was the last of the train. That normally meant clouds of dust, but the new rock-covered road to Woodhoot kept it to a minimum. I didn’t mind riding alone with Lilly as that meant I was able to keep her focused on the topics I tutored. Likely, my focus wouldn’t be on her tutoring as much in the coming weeks as I finished setting the tower. I couldn’t wait to restart my research. We made excellent time over the new road, the horses traveling faster than we walked.

A little after dusk, we arrived in Woodhoot. What was originally a two-day walk, cut to one by the road and the wagons. Miles was ecstatic to host such a great number of customers, more than the inn ever held before, he claimed. A turkey was butchered for the evening and we all ate our fill of roasted turkey, thick gravy, and boiled potatoes. The [Loggers] got along famously with the [Wagoneers], especially after they arranged to have their logs loaded and brought back to Lark on the wagon’s return trip. Apparently, it meant they could cut more lumber instead of having to stop to ship it themselves.

The next day, the wagon train traveled down the rest of the road towards my tower. I think the spooky path made them ride slower than any of the various monsters. The leeches couldn’t drop slowly enough from the branches overhead and ended up crushed beneath hooves. The sounds of the wagon train moving kept the bears away. We did see a giant bat once, but Walker killed it midflight with a magic missile. Proof that his aim was advancing. Bats didn’t always fly in a straight path, and it was difficult to hit them when you couldn’t predict which way they would go. When they did fly straight, they were often too fast to hit at all.

Kine was waiting in front of the tower when we arrived that afternoon. The trees and bushes around the base of it were cleared, and he evened out and hardened the once muddy ground. Standing next to him, was a ranger. A woman that was a few inches taller, but around his age. The freckles on her face gave the impression of youth that countermanded her serious demeanor. The hip-height badger by her side helped, though.

“Sir, I was about to set out for Woodhoot when we heard your wagons coming,” she said by way of greeting. Perhaps the Scouts wanted to enforce that names weren’t important? I didn’t continue that line of thought, instead motioning for her to continue.

“I come with news: a beastwave approaches,” she said, gravely.

“A beastwave?” The [Paladin] Adam asked as he joined in the conversation.

She nodded, “Two, maybe three days out. They travel through the Barony of Llal as we speak.”

From the maps I’d seen, I knew Llal to be the lands immediately west of Lark, governed by an adventurer that purchased his barony. I didn’t know anything about the man, but I knew his lands lead up to the base of the mountains.

“What can you tell us?” I asked as I began to think of defensive measures. If I knew what kind of monsters were coming, then I could plan better.

“I only saw wolves and boars, sir, and no good count for their numbers. I immediately came east to spread the tidings,” she said as if it were a personal failing. I was about to say something, when the blasted [Paladin] did it for me.

“It is good you did as much. Knowing it is coming is the important part. Now we can prepare,” he claimed, using a tone of voice I’m sure he used when trying to inspire heroics. If he gets anyone killed, I’m melting his armor.

“I know you [Rangers] use animal companions. Is there any reward for capturing these monsters instead of killing them?” I asked as I eyed her badger.

I wasn’t really interested in the reward. Though, if the Scouts had a method to grow a badger to that size, then maybe I could obtain it and grow new kinds of mounts for adventurers. If successful, I could potentially revolutionize the entire kingdom’s calvary.

She shook her head, “I don’t know, but I can ask my commander when I return. I know the Baron of Llal, they say he’s…” she trailed off as if choosing her words carefully.

Adam didn’t bother, “They say he’s an idiot. The man’s a retired fighter-class. Built an arena and pays for people to bring him monsters and beasts for him to fight,” his lips curled in anger, “they even say he employs a necromancer to bring the monsters back and fight them again.”

Well, I could understand why a [Paladin] might be upset with that, but it didn’t have much to do with me. I’d try to capture them anyway. I was just looking for an excuse to do that. What I really wanted was test subjects for my experiments. Both types of animals bore litters and bred fairly quickly. If I could get them to adapt to a particular element, evolving traits of that element, then it would go far to prove a hypothesis I have.

I looked at the [Ranger], the girl seeming out of her depth in speaking with such august personages as myself, and informed her, “If you wait an hour or two, this carriage will be headed back to Woodhoot. I may be able to also arrange for some support to defend that village. The ride alone would save you half a day and put you that much further ahead of the wave.”

Turning towards Adam, I continued, “If you believe we can finish before then, that is.”

“We’ll see,” was his reply.