There's a power that comes from slaying monsters. Those in the business call this the "reward." And that's the main reason why some farmer's son might be willing to pick up a sword and try to kill a monster five times his size, covered in bloodshot, blinking, eyes.

Life-expectancy aside, the point is that working for the Guilds has its benefits. Sure, some of the members there might be utterly insane, but the trade comes with Skills, Attributes, and several unique Classes. The chance to get abilities that are normally impossible. And as a plus, signing up to hunt monsters is one of the few careers in which a person of lower birth can really make a name for themselves. Saying they don't die immediately, of course.

If you see an Adventurer with gray hair, my strong recommendation is that you be on your best behavior.

....

Possessions are aptly named.

The more a person owns, the more it controls them. So I've heard, and so I've often found true in my life. While I didn't have a lot to my name at the time, I can say that the few things I owned mattered a surprising amount to me. And this was especially true for those I'd managed not to lose along the way.

My dagger was, perhaps, the most obvious. In a lot of ways, the weapon felt like one of the few constants I had in my life. While it wasn't a magical sword, and it didn't glow, the steel on my hip was one of the few things I felt that I could actually rely on. Yet, as a result, the thought of someone else walking away with it really pissed me off.

And Gregory's knife was much the same way.

Like a lot of death I'd seen, there hadn't been time for any sort of goodbye when Gregory passed away. There hadn't been a moment, where I could let the man know how grateful I'd been, to have him fish me out of the ocean, to get me back on my feet- to show me a way of life that might not have been for me, but was invaluable to helping me move forward. Aside from the memories, all I had left of Gregory was his knife.

And seeing someone else with it really, really, pissed me off.

Honestly, I knew this was stupid.

It wasn't anything special.

A knife is a knife. That's all it is. Gregory hadn't been hanging onto some ancient and powerful artifact- the man had fished for a living. It was a beat up, wooden handled, somewhat-dulled, bit of metal. Meant for cutting rope, or cord, or stubborn tubbers. I'd have to define it as a tool, and probably a cheap one.

My dagger, Gregory's knife- neither of these were special. They were bits of metal, cut or hammered into shape, and sharpened. These things were objects with a purpose and could easily be replaced. Which meant that applying emotion to these was pointless.

There was no benefit.

None.

And yet- the thought had wormed itself into my brain. That I should feel something: that I shouldn't keep a level head and take a few deep breaths- but actually go an take this matter into my own two hands. That I should go out into the night, and take it back.

This was, above all, a foolish decision, and I recognized it as such. The type of action that I would, normally, have be ruthlessly crushed and disregarded for all the risks it might present. Yet, the sense of danger was muted.

While I could easily recognize it, see it, whisper it aloud to myself- that clear as day, my actions were being influenced, I didn't feel concerned. As sure as I knew my own name, it was perfectly obvious- yet, there I was going along with it all anyways. As if a scuba-diver at depth, it seemed that the lingering effects of magic in my system dulled my sense of caution.

Walking down the hall, as the door to my room closed quietly behind me. With [Hide Presence] at full burn, my bare feet touched stone cold enough to send an electric chill up my spine, but my steps were completely silent as I slipped down the passageway.

In the dark of night, I felt the skill working in a manner I'd never really considered. While it was an ability I could use to hide, now that I was out in the night air I noticed that [Hide Presence] seemed much stronger. Almost as if I could feel the ability leaning into its own strength, after longing to finally be in its own element. As if I'd finally let it free, to show me what it could really do.

Obvious in retrospect, but for all the time I'd had it, I'd never once utilized it for what it had been meant for.

... Then again: I'd never before aspired to prowling the night like a thief.

But, I had to accept that was exactly what I had chosen to do on this night. I was very much a thief, a burglar, a silent figure looking for trouble: slinking in the darkness with the goal of stealing back what I felt was rightfully mine. I took the hall straight, past the stairs that lead to the kitchens and the yard, down to the open section of the northern wall where a tower posted a single [Guard] watching over the night. Passing them by, they never noticed as I slipped past the torch light.

By the time the second [Guard] I spotted completely overlooked me, the realization was forming up with an almost giddy feeling of excitement.

They truly didn't know.

Twice, I circled back- each time within ten paces of them. Testing my limits, as my heart slammed in my chest, and they had no idea. With their attention focused outside, shadows and darkness as my blanket of cover: they didn't have a clue I was waltzing right by.

I might as well have been a ghost, free to haunt the fort as I pleased.

[Skill - Rank up] - [Hide Presence- Lvl 3]

It's possible, the skill was simply waiting for that final push. Patiently sitting right at the edge to get stronger, for me to finally use it enough for that last, little, bit.

It's also possible, though, that there was something else at work. Something strange.

For the hum of mana in my veins and mind, was louder than it had ever been. To the point in which it seemed almost deafening, compared to the silence of my steps. So much so, that the hope that this all might abate was lost in a haze of adrenaline.

Taking the corners blind, [Hide Presence] almost seemed to egg me on. As if it were whispering in my ear. Demanding that I take more risks. That I dare to step past that next torch, around that next corner: that I go out and seek my adventure- however small. From the walls, down the steps, into the far yard, on the opposing side of where my mornings were now being spent. From there, I found my way into the fort for truth, exploring with little concern of who else might be awake. Any echoes of sound or voices, were muffled and far off things. Distractions, quickly set aside- unrelated to my goal.

At least three times, I froze as a stray [Guard] passed me by. Torch in hand, they would always carry on walking the halls, while all I needed to do was set my back to stone. Tucking into the shadows and holding my breath, and I was invisible- while they were not.

With the sound of boots, the light of their torches: it took surprisingly little effort to spot them before they arrived. All I need was to find a doorway, an archway, a rusted suit of armor on display... The last example I found almost comedic, if [Identify] hadn't told me it had once belonged to a [Warlord] known for brutal torture.

Still, I was a man with a mission.

As much as the thrill of passing danger by seemed to push [Hide Presence] along, I had left my room emboldened seeking one thing in particular. The thought of Gregory's knife was still in the forefront of my mind, and I soon found myself along the southern wall of the fort. Free from the bowels that circled the Baron's hall, or the [Scribe] rooms- that were, I might like to mention, all kept under lock and key.

Much to my dismay.

Regardless, I carried on and made my way closer to my intended destination. Set into the recess of the southern wall, which itself was built into the steeper of the hillside upon which the fort itself was founded, the barracks waited. In the form of dozens of rooms, a majority of the fort's fighting force resided in the most defendable section. Each room was set with thick doors of wood and heavy iron locks, spaced between the occasionally lit torch.

There, I heard voices

"-you, the beast had a bone blade seven paces long. Gored half a dozen [Soldier] in twain, with each any every swing. Half the company was dead before the [Captain] finally managed to get at her." From one of the rooms, and older man's voice filtered beneath the crack of a door. "And get her, he did! Kingdom's mercy, his ax tore through that bone, shattered it with a mighty shout. For anyone else, you'd have thought it would be the end of it- right there. Yet, this monster... The Kingdom doesn't fight just any creature down along the borders. No, this was a [Hellspawn] of the highest rank."

War stories, it seemed. It mixed well with the sound of men murmuring and dice rolling. Of glasses clinking, and muffled laughter: all of these softly echoing into the hallway I navigated. For a time, I was tempted to listen. Even as the tale became more and more outlandish, and the monster seemed less and less plausible.

Or, at least I hoped they were less plausible. Though, I'll admit, my perspective on these things was growing more flexible with time.

"Those [Demon] are wicked with their intellect. Keen as any man, they say! Even disarming her was not enough. With a single claw, she ripped off a man's torso- just to take his shield! The beast stabbed another through, with the broken pieces! Using them like spears!"

As the story carried on, I moved out of earshot. As interested as I was, drunken tall-tales weren't what I was looking for. At least, they weren't what had dragged me out of my room this night, specifically. Though I made a note to learn more about [Hellspawn] or [Demon] given the chance. Specifically: the knowledge on how to avoid ever running into one.

If those were real, and not just the exaggerated tales of a drunk, neither sounded like my cup of tea.

Continuing, I stopped at the next door. Then, the next. The sounds of conversation, or snores. I listened, then continued- [Hide Presence] resonating in my bones as I waited for the moment all the pieces clicked together.

And I stopped.

"-Baron's lost his damn mind." I heard Roggar's voice mutter. "Empire-scum like that ought to be mounted on pikes. If I'd known he was going to take the fucker in after questioning, I'd have made it look like an accident."

"Oh shush. Baron knows what he's about." Another replied. "A [Mage] is a [Mage]. We haven't had one since the last Fyrd, and it's not as though the Kingdom would ever let them come back."

"That's what I'm saying, Posh! We don't got a [Mage] here. We've got a Hero from the Empire, with no Class."

"Nah, Magic is magic. Fire, too, from what I hear. Plenty of uses for that."

"No, I'm telling you: the Baron should nip this in the bud while we still can." I heard Roggar grumble. "If he wants magic he can just hire it from the Guild. They've got a few [Sorcerer] from what I hear. The Guildmaster there has connections."

"Aye? And raise taxes again to pay for it?"

"Bag of gold for that fucker's head, and he wouldn't need to raise much of anything."

"Empire Gold."

"Just melt them down if it bothers you so bloody badly."

"Figured it would bother you more, is all. Being the Empire's coin, and all."

"If you're telling me I can kill one of their lot and have them pay me for the trouble? I'll not complain. Gold is gold. "

"Fair enough, but then you'll be working for them."

"I ain't never going to work for the Empire."

I ignored the double negative as I waited, listening carefully as they continued their drunken conversation.

Finding Roggar was a start, but whoever he was speaking with wasn't Karen, and I wasn't certain if she was just being quiet, or if she wasn't there at all. As it was late, and probably was the type to frown at the slurred tones in the room, I felt it was likely she might just be somewhere else.

I'd never really come through this area of the fort beyond the Baron's tour, and he hadn't exactly lingered in the region. Idly, I wondered if the [Guard] rooms were separated by gender. As Karen wasn't the only woman I'd seen working for the Baron, I had to imagine there might be some sort of policy in place.

"Solas agrees with me."

My ears perked up at something useful, as Roggar continued. I heard the sloshing of what I guessed to be a jug of ale, thumping onto a table.

"She don't know what the Baron is thinking, either. It's clear as day there's something off with that bastard. Whatever use he thinks that Hero's going to be, I say it's not worth it."

"Well, the Hero knows magic."

"Your point?"

"Well, of course there's something wrong with him. [Mage] types are a strange lot."

"No, it's more than that. The way that fucker is always staring at things, like he's taking them apart in his head." Roggar's voice grew quieter. "Brought him all the way here, so I'd know: he ain't right."

"Is it true that he set the [Lord]'s beard on fire, during questioning?"

"Wasn't there for that, but Solas said he cast something. Blew the Baron's hammer halfway across the hall. Said that she'd never seen the man look so surprised."

"No wonder the Baron wants to keep him."

"Wants to keep him? He attacked our [Lord] and got away with it!"

"Come on now-"

"If anyone else had done the same, they'd already be dead! If you ask me, that was an assassination attempt!"

"Nah, you're just making it out to be worse than it was-"

"No! That's exactly how it is. You can't trust anyone from the Empire, Posh. They're all snakes. Deserter or not, they'll cut a throat as soon as blink if they stand to benefit from it."

"Well, their [Merchant] folk, maybe-"

"How many towns, how many cities, do you think they've burned to the ground simply because it suited them? Just because they haven't bothered with us in these parts doesn't change what they've done farther down the coast. The Kingdom has fought their lot off, plenty of times."

"We're not in the Kingdom, Roggar. Up here, there's nothing the Empire wants except a bit of trade."

It didn't sound as though Karen was present. As I pulled my ear from the wooden door, though, a noise in the hall echoed. The sound of something creaking open, followed by the tone of laughter setting itself loose- no longer muffled.

Down the hall, someone stumbled out of a room, turning about in my direction.

Stepping back, my senses still felt crisp. Almost like another layer of touch, I could feel [Hide Presence] blanketed over top of me, sheltering me from casual observation, but I didn't like the chances of remaining undetected in the hall. There were too many torches, and the space wasn't all that wide. Staying out of sight would be tricky.

Looking about, I tried to plot my way down the hall safely, looking for a decent crevice to get myself out of the way. There were squared thresholds over the doors about half a pace deep, but none of them had enough room between the wood and the hall to completely hide me, and I quickly realized that my only reasonable option would be with quickly continue down the hall.

Irritated, I accepted this and started making my way- which was just as well, because the door beside me bust open with a sudden crash.

It seemed the conversation had escalated.

"Those fuckers burned half a province to the bloody ground!" Roggar shouted, as someone landed hard on the stone floor. "Women and children! Killed them all- and you think we should just let that pass?"

I held my breath as, Illuminated by torchlight- and not three steps away, Roggar emerged from the room I'd been listening in on. His back to me, I was just close enough to detect the strong scent of spilled ale and sweat.

It wasn't pleasant.

"Aye, Roggar, you fucking drunk!" The man on the floor stumbled to their feet, spitting to the side as they rubbed their jaw. "We ain't in the land of plenty in these parts. The hells do you think half the grain goes? If we lopped of the head of every Empire-blooded fool to stumble in, we'd lose half the boats docked at port."

"And we'd make do just fine without them!"

The shouting escalated from there and punches began to fly, which was the exact opposite of what I wanted, as that meant that more doors started to open. On both directions of the hall, my planned exit was ruined. I cursed my luck as I pulled the iron loop that hung from the door's handle as it finished swinging towards me.

The stone threshold kept the door from falling in snug with the wall, but it was enough to keep me out of immediate sight, which I felt was important. But, it left me sandwiched between the wall and the door, so of course, as the trade off: I had nowhere to go.

Which was rather unfortunate.

In that moment, reality (as I've found it often tends to do in times like these) was crashing down around me.

That's all it takes, really. Just one unexpected event, and a person can wake up and realize they're in a little too deep. There I was, with the odd trance of mana-induced adventure rapidly being replaced with a sudden sense of horror. Almost as if a dream I'd been walking through- a fantasy brought on by a haze of magic and thrill of a small adventure, was lifted.

And I had to ask myself: What did I honestly expect to happen?

Did I truly expect that I'd find Karen's humble abode, casually pluck Gregory's knife from her belt, and wander back to my room with none the wiser? Did I believe that I was, if only for a short while, some sort of master thief- just because I had a skill that made it a little easier?

No.

The sudden clarity of my situation was astounding. It was much like someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on my head. One that washed away the influence I'd been under.

I was no ghost in the night.

I was no cat-burglar in training.

I was just a colossal idiot who got drunk on mana, and wound up trapped behind a door while more and more people came to watch two drunken idiots punch one another.

[Skill - Rank up] - [Hide Presence- Lvl 4]

If a Skill can laugh with glee, then I have to assume that's exactly what [Hide Presence] was doing.

But I sure as hell wasn't.