Ozzy woke up a little later than usual. It was the morning after his admission into the League and he’d spent the previous evening celebrating with Benjamin. One would expect him to have a killer hangover with how much they drank last night, but he was just fine. The druid was so bulky and full of natural goodness that the countless beers he downed were basically soft drinks to him. The man was nevertheless rather drowsy, so he dragged himself over to the bathroom, filled the sink with cold water from the tap, and dunked his head in it. Having woken up good and proper, he got dressed and went downstairs to get some breakfast. As was the norm for morning meals at the Steamy Crate Inn, it consisted primarily of grilled sausages and lumpy porridge.

It was while Ozzy was scarfing down his meal that a package arrived for him, one bearing the seal of the Ostorian League of Explorers. Part of him had wondered why they had asked for a place of residence on his application form, but this certainly explained it. Seeing as it was probably important, the druid wolfed down the rest of his food and went to his room to open it. The slightly rattling box contained three things. The first was a bland and impersonal letter welcoming him into the organization. The second was a fairly small circular copper badge with his name and a serial number inscribed on it, a token of rank and membership. The last item was the most interesting - an instructional booklet for new recruits.

The druid leafed through it until he found the section on undertaking expeditions and getting paid. As he expected, he’d need to revisit the Last Flag branch in order to apply for a job. The League seemed to have a rather robust system in place that allowed its explorers a fair deal of freedom and independence, but also placed a lot of responsibility on them. There were a lot of conditions and bylaws involved. Ozzy decided to dissect the legalese wording on his way to the office, so he threw on a jacket, grabbed a bag of clothes from the wardrobe, and set off with the booklet in hand. He then slammed skull-first into a lamp post because he was trying to read the tiny text while walking. This happened twice more before he decided to just bite the bullet and read the thing in the back of a taxi.

By the time he arrived at the office he had a fairly decent idea of what to do. He walked through the front doors, showed his ID card to the receptionist to gain entry, and went to find the so-called drafting room. Locating it wasn’t difficult as it was the noisiest place in the whole building. The interior was as spacious as a lecturing hall, more than enough to accommodate the dozen or so people inside huddled around a job board. The scene of mild chaos as the explorers pushed and shoved to get to the front was strongly reminiscent of Einhar’s adventuring guilds whenever a fresh batch of requests and commissions got brought in.

The nostalgic sight put Ozzy at ease. The relaxed air around him was so different from the anxious intensity he’d displayed at yesterday’s interview that Bob, Skully, or Jack would probably not recognize him. The dwarf, at least, didn’t seem to. The tempestuous gunslinger had climbed atop a small table in the far corner and was having an active disagreement with someone face-to-face. He was so busy shouting something about the other guy spilling his breakfast pint that he didn’t notice Ozzy at all. The stout man seemed preoccupied at the moment, so the newcomer decided to leave him be and scanned the room for any other familiar faces.

As luck would have it, he did see someone. He was a strapping youngster around Benjamin’s age, though in much better shape. His well-worn and baggy clothes hid an above-average physique that implied he led an active lifestyle that likely involved the frequent lifting and carrying of heavy things. A dock worker or something similar by Ozzy’s estimate. The lad’s messy chestnut hair and freshly shaven chin gave him a somewhat plain look, the sort of average Joe one would pass by on the street without a second thought. The druid wasn’t usually good with faces, but the lad had an easily identifiable feature that Ozzy easily recognized.

“Wade, right?” he approached the bruised youngster. “Wade Curlingham?”

The guy jumped in place at being called out so suddenly, but settled down once he saw who it was.

“Oh! There you are, sir,” they firmly shook hands. “Been hoping you’d show. Also, it’s Cunningham, sir. Of Cunningham & Sons Auto-Repair.”

“Right, sorry. I’m not too good with names.”

“It’s alright. I’ve been told I have a forgettable face. I guess your little present fixed that somewhat, eh?” he pointed at his black eye with a smirk.

“I will admit it made it easier to spot you,” Ozzy chuckled.

The injury in question had happened during the League’s physical examination three days ago. Wade had the misfortune of being paired with the druid during the hand-to-hand portion of the test. The young mechanic had been in his fair share of fistfights much like anyone that grew up in Blacktown, and also had a fair few boxing lessons under his belt. He walked into that spar thinking he could handle himself, yet was knocked out cold in one blow despite the protective headgear and padded mitts. Wade had taken his loss admirably and became fast friends with the blond mountain of a man… once he woke up.

“What brings you here today, Wade?”

“Mostly shaking in my boots, sir.”

“Huh,” Ozzy crossed his arms in confusion. “How come?”

“It’s those folks over yonder,” Wade nodded towards the rowdy gathering.

“Are they mistreating you or something?” the druid glared their way.

“What? No! Heavens no, nothing like that. I just… can’t work up the courage to ask any of them to sign up with me.”

“Why not?”

“Well, just look at ‘em. Each of those men is no doubt a veteran explorer. They have bigger and better things to do than bother with a no-name greenhorn and his small-time survey job.”

The League had a rather unorthodox way of handing business. It did not assign work to people directly, nor did it pay a regular salary. Instead, they posted the details of any available tasks and expeditions for all to see and offered bounties to whoever completed them. It was then up to the explorers themselves to volunteer for a job either individually or, as was most often the case, as a team, and the League would decide on the best candidates to send out. Upon their return the explorers would either be rewarded, penalized, or a mix of the two depending on their performance and the outcome of the mission.

Which meant that if Wade wanted to get paid, he had to recruit people that were both willing and able to accompany him. That wasn’t going to be easy since, as the mechanic himself stated, he was still an unknown, unproven quantity. That and survey expeditions were the most mundane ones around. There was no danger or excitement, no braving the unknown in search of ancient secrets and lost treasure, nor were there any dangerous creatures to test one’s mettle against. The only thing a survey entailed was going out to some backwater plot of land, taking a bunch of readings and samples, and then bringing them back for analysis. It was the perfect job for fresh recruits to cut their teeth on, but not rewarding enough to be worth the big shots’ time. Therein lay the problem, as it would appear only two of the twenty or so prospective explorers had made it past the most recent round of evaluations.

However, the druid didn’t consider this to be as big an issue as the young mechanic did.

“Don’t be absurd,” Ozzy rebuked the young man’s concerns. “You think any of those guys started from where they are? Of course not. They’ve all been in your shoes, no doubt harboring the same pointless doubts. They’d be massive hypocrites if they turned you away just for being new, wouldn’t they?”

“I, uh, I guess?”

“More importantly, you really need to have some faith in yourself, Wade. An adv- explorer has to be daring, confident, and sure of their abilities. Don’t squander your talents by letting your humility turn into cowardice.”

“I’m really nothing special, sir. I mean, one hit from you was enough to flatten me.”

“Maybe, but you’d surely best me just as easily in a battle of wits. And don’t sell yourself short. Even if you went down, you were back on your feet in less than a minute. I bet my beard half those guys wouldn’t have recovered as quickly, let alone with as much grace.”

“You know what? You’re right,” Wade puffed his chest out a bit. “What am I so afraid of? Compared to having your fist hurl at my face, talking to my seniors is child’s play.”

“That’s… not quite what I was trying to say.”

“Maybe not, but it works for me,” he shrugged. “Thanks again, sir.”

“Ozzy. Call me Ozzy.”

“Alright. So, Ozzy, can I count on you to back me up on this survey job?”

“Probably. What’s it about?”

“Oh, I got a copy of the details right here.”

Wade pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to the druid. It was an application form containing all the details for the expedition the mechanic had set his eyes on. The target site was in some foothills at the base of a mountain a fair distance from Last Flag. Departure time was marked as ‘ASAP,’ meaning the team would set out immediately after being assembled. The estimated completion period was one week, half of which would be travelling to and from the marked region via train and truck. The reward was a respectable four hundred sprocks per person, with up to two hundred more for exceptional performance. As for the personnel required, this was a four-man job that needed a tracker, a technician, a scholar, and a fielder.

“Yeah, this seems good. I’m guessing you’ll be our technician, then?”

“Yes, sir. Er, Ozzy,” he corrected himself. “Sorry, it’s already a habit. Anyway, you can count on me to keep all our survey gear and other equipment in tip-top shape.”

Aside from maintenance, he’d also be responsible for setting up camp, operating heavy machinery, and providing ad-hoc engineering solutions.

“I take it you want to take the fielder spot?” Wade hazarded a guess.

“I could, but I’d much rather be the tracker. It’s more my thing.”

The term ‘fielder’ was derived from the term ‘work the field,’ which was explorer-speak for ‘winging it.’ In other words, fielders were flexible all-rounders that could think on their feet. They were also the first line of defense in case things turned violent. The tracker’s job was a bit more obvious from its name, though perhaps ‘scout’ or ‘hunter’ would’ve been a more accurate term. Ozzy would need to navigate the wilderness, locate suitable campsites, and steer the team away from dangerous wildlife. It was also on him to procure food and water for everyone should the need arise, and to back the fielder up in case of a scrap.

“Sure thing,” Wade nodded. “You want to go put our names on the board?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

The two of them walked towards the group of explorers from earlier. It had thinned considerably while they were talking, presumably because a bunch of them decided to take on whatever expedition had caught their fancy. Either that or Skully and that other guy had taken their disagreement outside along with a bunch of onlookers. Ozzy gave the remainder of the group a wide berth so as to not disturb them as he stepped up to the recruitment board a few meters away from them. The rowdy fellows suddenly clammed up as they stared at the towering anomaly that casually strolled past them, but the druid paid them no heed. He instead focused on the large, flat, thin, and framed sheet of canvas that hung from the wall in front of him.

“Mind if I do the honors?” Wade inquired.

“Not at all. Go for it.”

The mechanic took the document with the expedition details and pinned it to the cloth with his League-issued copper badge. He made sure that the needle pierced the paper just under the part where it said ‘technician.’ Ozzy did the same to mark himself down as the tracker. This odd little ritual was apparently the accepted etiquette and practice when it came to declaring one’s interest in an expedition. All that was left was to have a fielder and a scholar to do the same, either by personally inviting people to do so or waiting until one saw the open spots on Wade’s posting and added themselves to the list. Yes, this did mean that it was possible to wind up on an expedition with a total stranger, but this was only an issue for fresh recruits that went on glorified chores. It was assumed that the newbies would steadily get familiarized with the rest of the League’s local roster and learn to organize themselves more thoroughly in due time.

“So, shall we start asking around for the last two members?” Ozzy suggested.

“Actually, if it’s alright with you, can I try to handle that myself?”

“That depends on why.”

“I… need to work on my people skills,” Wade claimed. “I can’t make all my friends by getting punched in the face.”

“Heh. The orcs might disagree.”

“I’m serious, Ozzy,” his tone matched his words. “I’m not good with strangers. Like, at all.”

The druid was about to point out how the two of them seemed to be conversing just fine, but then he remembered what Wade was like at the evaluation. He was so quiet and reserved that Ozzy had to practically yank his words out with a crowbar, nothing like their overconfident and boisterous fellow applicants.

“I need to become more sociable, so, even if it takes me a while, please let me handle the recruitment,” the young man pleaded.

“Alright. I’m in no rush right now so take your time.”

“Thanks. It means a lot that you trust me with this. One more thing, though.”

The gearhead gestured for Ozzy to get closer, and the druid did so by leaning forward a bit.

“Those guys behind me,” Wade whispered, “are they still staring this way?”

“Yep. And they definitely heard everything you said just now,” the other man replied in kind.

“O-oh…”

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Ozzy gave Wade a reassuring pat on the shoulder that nearly made his knees buckle, then strolled out of the drafting room. Frankly speaking, it didn’t matter too much who he was teamed up with. This mission was just too easy to worry about, though that was an issue in and of itself. The druid’s current goal was to gain fame and recognition as an explorer as quickly as possible. Some boring run-of-the-mill sample collection wasn’t going to accomplish that. However, he didn’t have any other option. The League had a stipulation that banned rookies from taking on really big and impressive missions until they had a bunch of easy and moderate ones under their belt. That would take months purely because of the travelling involved.

Therefore, if the druid was going to make some waves, he’d need to figure out a way to make this mountainside survey truly exceptional. Schemes like this really weren’t his strong suit, but at least he’d have plenty of time to think about it. Judging by what he’d seen of the Last Flag branch office, there weren’t a lot of highly-educated individuals that could fulfill the role of scholar for the survey. Ideally there’d be a freshly recruited one eager to join himself and Wade, but that was unlikely. None of the other youngsters that were with him at the evaluation seemed the intellectual type, and that socially inept mechanic was the only one of them he’d seen today. Odds were it would be a long time before one of the more seasoned scholars took on the job.

Until then, Ozzy decided to avail himself of some of the League’s membership benefits, beginning with the gymnasium just behind the main office building. This training facility had all kinds of amenities to help one forge their muscles. It had also been the site of most of the physical tests from a few days ago, so Ozzy knew it was the perfect place to get himself back into tip-top shape. He’d been looking forward to it ever since morning, and had even brought a duffel bag with a set of cotton-woven clothes intended for athletes. The place was empty when he got there, so he didn’t hesitate to get changed and immediately got busy pumping iron and running laps.

After a solid four hour workout, Ozzy showered off and slipped back into his Huxley & Smith suit. He swung by the cafeteria for a quick lunch of four bowls of soup, two ham and egg sandwiches, and half a watermelon for dessert. His meal attracted the attention of the other diners, who couldn’t help but look on in amazement. They’d never seen so much food disappear that fast down a single man’s gullet. Ozzy let out a burp that seemed to make the floor rumble before setting out to finally work on changing his lodging situation. There was no point to him paying for his room at the Steamy Crate Inn if he wasn’t going to be in the city for days on end. It made a lot more sense to find a place he could rent long-term, ideally closer to his new workplace. This impromptu round of apartment hunting yielded no promising results, however. Despite spending the rest of the day visiting dozens of places for rent, Ozzy failed to find anything that grabbed his fancy and also wasn’t ridiculously expensive.

Upon his return to the Steamy Crate Inn later that night, the druid was met with a surprise in the shape of another message from the League. Apparently the expedition he signed up for had already filled up on members and would be departing first thing tomorrow. The missive also included the names of all the participants, and looking at the new additions rapidly elevated this surprise to a pleasant. Sure enough, when he showed up to the meeting spot the following morning at sunrise, Ozzy was met with someone that he was undeniably delighted to see.

“Morning, Eva. Fancy meeting you here.”

The sultry head librarian had decided to escort her new favorite customer on his maiden exploratory expedition.

“Well. There you are,” she said in a huff. “Awfully cold of you not to invite me on this little trip to the mountains.”

“You’re right, I should have, and I apologize for not doing so.”

Her presence made sense in retrospect. She had previously mentioned she was a League member, and she was obviously a perfect fit for the scholar job. However, Ozzy had subconsciously ignored the possibility because, to his mind, Miss Applebee was not the explorer type. Her current attire went a long way to dispelling that mentality. It was a practical yet elegant outfit consisting of boots, pants, a shirt, a vest, and a pair of gloves. Each article looked fairly durable for a bunch of leather and cloth on top of fitting her slender curves snugly. A bowler hat rested atop her hair, her usual round spectacles framed her charming face, and a slightly rattling canvas bag hung from her shoulder. Last but not least, a pair of binoculars dangled from her neck and a small knife, more a tool than a weapon, was sheathed at her belt.

“You look fantastic, by the way. As I expected of you, a perfect mix of form and function.”

Whatever misgivings the woman might’ve had at being forgotten about seemed to quickly dissolve in the face of that genuine compliment, her pout giving way to a flattered smile.

“Well, just because we’re off to some muddy mountain doesn’t mean a woman shouldn’t look her best. What about yourself? You’re not planning on ruining that fine suit, are you?”

“Of course not. It’s just that my gear is a bit, uh, unusual by your high standards,” he lifted the heavy duffel bag in his hand. “I’d rather wait until we leave civilization before I change into it.”

“Hmm?” she raised an eyebrow. “I shall expect quite the show, then.”

“Have you met Wade yet?”

“The technician? Yes, he’s inside fetching a crate of equipment. Nice boy, very polite, but a bit awkward.”

“He did say he needed to work on his people skills.”

“Ah. Then he’s in luck. Between you, myself, and Angela, he’ll come out of his shell faster than a speeding bullet.”

“You know this Angela person, then?”

They were the last member of this survey expedition, and the only name Ozzy did not recognize.

“Oh, yes. She’s an old friend, probably tagged along for fun when she spotted my badge up there with yours.”

“Is she, and I don’t mean to be rude, capable?”

Ozzy wasn’t sure whether that peculiar name belonged to a woman or not, but he couldn’t help but worry now that he knew for sure. The fielder position was without a doubt the most dangerous one, after all, and as far as the human species went, the females weren’t as physically fit or durable as the males.

“I think you’re about to find out for yourself,” Eva jerked her head and eyes slightly to Ozzy’s left. “There she comes now.”

The man turned around to witness a sight so surreal, so alien, that it made that somewhat forgotten yet distinctly foreboding feeling of ‘I’m not in Einhar anymore’ come crashing back to him in full force.

A huge part of the culture shock was caused by the approaching woman’s attire and equipment. The steel-toed boots and snug trousers covering her long legs were the most unremarkable part of her. The heavy leather half-finger gauntlets and equally thick duster coat that swayed with her every step were a bit more eye-catching. The two enormous six-shooters holstered at each hip and the ammo belts that held them up made it clear she was one of these so-called gunslingers, as did the scoped rifle hanging from her shoulder. Another curiosity was the pet falcon that rested on her right wrist, a fine bird of prey sporting a little bright red scarf and brown plumage with white spots.

Something that demanded even more attention was the girl’s caramel-brown skin, plenty of which was visible around the top she wore under that open coat. It was a frilly crop-top garment that was really just a bra with extra steps. It showed off her cleavage in a way that was reminiscent of Eva’s favorite dress, but went one step further by also putting her narrow waist and toned abs on display. Her face did not lose out to the librarian’s in terms of beauty, though Angela’s had a distinctly more exotic and youthful allure to it than Eva’s mature charm. However, the most unusual aspects of this somewhat scantily clad stranger were her eyes and the top of her head. Her golden irises had long, thin, and vertical pupils, her shoulder-length hair was a vibrant crimson reminiscent of ripe tomatoes, and a pair of fuzzy triangular ears with white tufts poked up from the sides of her scalp. Rounding off these distinctly feline features was a long and slender tail that waved lazily under her coat, its tip adorned with a trio of golden rings.

“Ciao, Libby. Who is the belloccio with you?”

The words, accent, and wave she used to greet the librarian besides the stupefied druid made her seem even more foreign to Last Flag than he was.

“Angela, this is Ozzy. Ozzy, this is-”

“Angela de Fiorino, a pleasure to meet you. Ah, this lovely boy is Marcello,” she gestured at her pet falcon, “and together we will make-a sure nothing interrupts yours and Libby’s special time together.”

“Angela!” Eva shouted. “It’s not like that!”

“Oh? Then he is, how you say, available?” the redhead raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Quiet, you! Excuse us, Ozzy. Girl talk.”

The enraged librarian grabbed her promiscuous companion by the collar and dragged her off for a private chat while Angela laughed merrily at her overreaction. As for the druid, he barely registered any of that. His brain was still struggling to process the revelation that, apparently, cat-people were a thing that existed in this world.