The deed done, the blade wiped and the spirit calmed, I turned my back to the corpse. Kevin and Topher rushed through the grass to meet me.

“Where’d he go?” called Kevin. “Did he get away?”

I let them get close before answering. “No,” I grumbled huskily, walking past.

I could feel Topher’s unimpressed stare. “Oh, wow,” he said. “Did you hear that, Kevin? This guy kills one goblin, and now he’s all like, ‘My angst is so great I can’t even look you in the eye, unfeeling mortals. Also, I talk like Batman.’”

That stung me back to reality. “God, you couldn’t let me have a simple bad-ass moment, could you?” I said. “I’m working on character development, here!”

“Now, Topher,” scolded Kevin. “You know Jack’s a bard - we have to give him room to add drama to his story, and trust him not to infringe on any superhero copyrights.”

I jumped at the segue. “Batman isn’t a superhero - he doesn’t have any superpowers. That’s his whole point.”

Topher smiled. “I thought his whole point was to give soon-to-be middle aged actors a transitional role before going into old-guy acting. Clooney, Kilmer, Bale, Affleck….”

“Nothing ‘soon-to-be’ about Affleck,” said Kevin.

The conversation carried us back to Jenn, who was still on the ground. “Glad you’re all having fun,” she wheezed.

I poked her with my toe. “How’re your abs?”

She winced as she gently shook her head. “What happened to the goblin?”

“Dead,” I stated. She gave no indication as to what her thoughts were. “So the powder hit you just as hard as last time? No acclimation, huh?”

“Last time?” asked Kevin.

“Er, yeah,” I said. “We found some of the sneezing powder on the other goblins. She took a whiff of it trying to figure out what it was and… hilarity ensued?” I gave him an innocent smile.

It didn’t take. “And you never thought to tell us our prisoner might have a bag of the stuff on him?”

“To be fair,” said Topher, “it was our search check that didn’t find it in the first place.”

My hand found itself waving off the rest of the conversation. “Blah-blah-hindsight-blah-blah,” I chanted. “Let’s move on.” I turned away so as not to see if Kevin’s glare was genuine. “This hit all of you pretty hard, but you two managed to shake it off before her.”

“I think sneezing powder is mostly black pepper,” said Topher. “Maybe you’re allergic, Jenn?”

“And what would the rules say, if I was?” she muttered. Topher gave her a considered look, to which she said, “Sorry, just in a bad mood. Never mind.”

I thought about it. “No, I’m pretty sure there aren’t any allergy rules in D&D. I think there are in Shadowrun, but that’s a whole other thing.”

Kevin found the discarded pouch and examined it. “Maybe whatever this stuff is affects girls more than guys.”

“Or she just rolls terribly on her saving throws,” shrugged Topher.

Jenn sat up. “It’s something we can deal with later. What should we do now? Take a breather? Bury the bodies?”

“Resting makes the most sense,” said Kevin. “A ‘short rest’ is an hour, and will let us recoup some hit points.” A grimace came and went on Jenn’s face. “We should move a bit further away from the battle, and make sure we’re far enough from the road that we can’t be seen. Afterwards, we’ll continue on; it’s not like we can report the goblins to the military, but they’ll get the message once the next person walks by. They’ll make sure the bodies get taken care of.”

“Passing on the cleanup to others,” said Jenn. “How heroic.”

“Isn’t it?” grinned Topher. “Heroes don’t stick around for the mundane work.”

“How about we ask the next passers-by if they’d rather bury the goblins or fight them?” I put my hand to the cut in my side. “A rest does sound good, though. And I’ve got something for everyone to look at during.” I pulled out the map.

“…and you’re sure you’ll be fine by yourself?” asked Everan. The dim lamplight of the Consul’s basement etched disturbing shadows into his already unique face.

Minerva stood straight. “Yes, General. My men have worked hard - they deserve a quick trip back. I won’t punish the best of them to walking while the rest get a week off.” She gave him a smirk. “It might set a bad precedent.” Also, she thought, it was better if no one else was around to question exactly what her orders were.

“You could take the worst of them,” said Everan. “If you can do it by yourself regardless, what harm is there?”

Though he offered the advice freely, she knew he had no interest one way or the other. She gave it a few seconds to let the idea sink in amongst the men. “I’ll be fine. It’s a simple enough favor.” She held up the charm he ‘threw together’ - something she couldn’t replicate with a year of work and an unlimited budget. “Three times a day, or constantly if I’m within a thousand feet, correct?”

“Yes.” He looked behind her. “I assume all your men have assembled.”

“If they haven’t, it’s their own damn fault,” she smiled.

“Indeed. The preparation and invocation require one minute, after which there will only be about six seconds until the portal closes. They must step into the circle during that window.”

She made sure the word was passed, then stepped back to watch. She’d yet to see Everan work any magic up close - she’d hoped the experience would be enlightening.

It wasn’t, but she didn’t feel disappointed.

Everan stood, hands above shoulders, palms towards himself, chanting. Slowly the scritching of chalk on stone became heard as three pieces began drawing the circle of formulae and sigils needed, Everan at its dead center. The soldiers muttered quietly amongst themselves. She watched with more awe than jealousy as the Ugly Bastard Child of Rorke Street calmly and clearly enunciated the words, channeling the magic with no more effort than standing up to a gentle breeze. He was funneling magic through about sixteen separate and complex formulaic circles, held only in his mind’s eye. She’d hoped to glean some idea into his casting methods, as such a task should betray some eccentricity in the caster’s style - a small break in the cadence of the chant, a tensing of the stance, even a twitch in the eye would indicate special care given to one part of the spell, an overcompensation of some aspect of magic, or an improvisation of substituting a different spell’s formula that didn’t quite fit this spell’s casting, but was good enough and made for easier memorization.

Everan, however, barely showed any sign that he was using magic. Had a random passerby suddenly found themselves in this basement and didn’t see the chalk moving itself about him, they might’ve assumed he was just having a pleasant conversation with his hands. Most wizards who could perform a spell with this complexity and length of casting - and she was certainly not one of them (yet, she told herself) - would be tensing under the strain of the magic, sweating profusely and either snapping out the words or screaming to hear them over the ambient noise of the magic coursing through their heads.

Entranced by how boring he was making it, Minerva almost didn’t notice when the chalk had ground its way into nothing. The completed circle began to glow. What would usually be a grand crescendo in the invocation seemed to be just a few more words out of Everan’s mouth, punctuated by him disappearing.

“Move, move!” she barked, practically throwing the first few into the glowing circle. Others followed.

The last one was Hogges. “Good luck, Captain,” he said, stepping through before she could respond. The circle disappeared with him.

And like that, she found herself alone. She had work to do. Her hand rubbed the charm, a glass vial with one of the adventurer’s hair and some other ingredients. It gave the faintest tug toward the South, as expected.

She breathed. There were too many unknowns and inconsistencies around this whole situation. Those adventurers were up to no good, she knew that much, at least. Even if Everan had the best intentions, he wasn’t in a position to understand - military experience wasn’t A.U.T.C., or even C.U.O. experience. He might be a genius with magic, but it was her job to enforce the law, her instincts that doubted them, her fault if she didn’t bring them in.

Those were her reasons, and they were good reasons, she told herself. Nothing wrong with them. They fully explained why the thought of those adventurers scraped against her soul like a whetstone. Why she was so upset about the situation. Why that bard's lying smile made her sick. Why—

You always look so serious.

She massaged the tension out of her brow, letting her face shift back into neutral. The first order of business was rest. She must be tired if she was drudging up old memories.

Next would be which spells to prepare. Sending was non-negotiable - she was required by the A.U.T.C. to have it memorized at all times while out of the city. Others…

Invisibility was her first choice, so she could get close to them. Alter Self if she saw the need to interact with them, and could help if she had to fight in melee. She wouldn’t forget Zone of Truth, of course. Longstrider would get her to them faster. Mage Armor was always a good choice, just in case. Two of them, the elf and half-elf, would be immune to a Sleep spell, so Color Spray would be better for incapacitation, if only for a few seconds. That left one more she could muster.

“Oh, what the heck,” she said, smiling at no one in particular. “Better safe than sorry.”

Fireball it was.

The copse of trees had a much friendlier feel to it than the giant forest we’d spent so much time in yesterday. If I had to guess, it was because I knew I could walk in any direction and be able to come out without getting hopelessly lost. I caught myself double-taking whenever I’d see a squirrel looking at me, but they always went back to their business, and I’d always cautiously go back to mine.

“So, what exactly are we looking for?” asked Jenn.

“Signs of where their campsite is,” replied Topher.

“Right, but I’m guessing there’s more to it than a fire pit in a clearing.”

“Those are a few,” said Kevin. “But the goblins didn’t have any tents or bedding on them, so they either left them at camp or stashed them nearby.”

“So look for hidden bags of smelly stuff,” I said, helpfully.

“And the gear those adventurers had,” added Topher.

Jenn kicked a stick. “Then you said we’d head into town and sell the stuff, right?”

“I’ll sell the stuff,” I said. “As a group, we’re pretty distinct. I’m just your friendly neighborhood human, though, so I shouldn’t get picked out of crowd if it turns out we’re being looked for. Hopefully we’ll get enough money to upgrade Kevin’s and my armor, and start saving to get you and Topher better armor, too. By the time we’re next level, we should have enough to get me some decent medium armor. We discussed this at length, you know - weren’t you listening?”

“I was,” she said. “But it’s been a while since I last heard you lecture. I wanted the nostalgia.”

There was more to it than that. I chose to believe she also just liked the sound of my voice.

“Medium armor, Jack?” tisked Topher. “Going College of Valor next level? Have you given up on becoming a sorcerer?”

I shrugged. “We hit level two without any semblance of a choice. I’m guessing things are going to work out organically, so the only way I could become a sorcerer would be to find one and have him teach me.”

“If it can be taught,” said Kevin. “In the lore, sorcerers are born sorcerers - if it’s organic, I think you’d have to awaken to the fact that you just happen to have dragon blood or something.”

“Yeesh,” grumbled Topher. “It’s a lot easier to just make changes on a character sheet.”

“Exactly. It’s not looking good,” I said, with a casual attitude. “Truth be told, though, I’m really liking bard.”

“Everyone wants to be a rock star,” smiled Kevin.

I laughed. “There is that. But more so, as a bard, I can do a little bit of everything, right? So… I feel like… my usefulness is solely dependent on how… creative I am, I guess?” I knew I could find the words if I spent the time, but I was too distracted by how my brain seemed to be short circuiting. “If that makes sense. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” asked Jenn.

“I have no idea.”

She gave me sympathetic smile, which gave me something to be confused with until she asked, “Why would the goblins camp in the woods? Anyone walking in would probably be able to see them - wouldn’t it make more sense to stay hidden in the grass?”

Topher was lifting up a log so Kevin could check underneath it - something I assumed was unnecessary, as I doubted the goblins could lift it. “They couldn’t hide a fire in the grass,” said Topher. “Then again, they couldn’t hide one in the woods without a pretty deep fire pit, either.”

“Which we still can’t find,” said Kevin.

“Would they even need one?” I asked. “I remember it being pretty warm last night. I doubt they’ve been ambushing long enough for the weather to really change.”

“I’m sure they cook their food,” said Kevin.

“Fair point.” I walked off to what I hoped was fresh ground. There wasn’t a clearing, but—I stopped, locking eyes with a squirrel. We stared for a few seconds, unmoving. It looked at me with the same curiosity a baby has the first time he looks at a clown - he knows enough to understand it's an odd situation, and he knows something is supposed to happen, but he’s not guaranteeing to be interested once it does.

rrrrrrrrr…

Something was softly growling at me. It wasn’t the squirrel, though…

Rrrrrrrrr…

Its pitch was rising. Maybe it wasn’t a growl. More like…

Rrrreeeee…

Was it creaking?

There was a loud Crack! and the last thing I saw was a wide-eyed squirrel before being swallowed up by the ground.