The guard who had seen them off was horrified upon seeing the corpse of the Aracocytus, and immediately offered to take it and report it to the Adventurer’s Guild, but Dillo declined. The reason he gave the guard was that their teachers at the academy would prefer they brought the body back to them, but Rowan sensed a subtle implication within Dillo’s words: “We’re not about to hand this over to you when you might be the one responsible.”

Though the guard had attempted to argue, and even threatened to pull rank, Dillo had remained firm, and at last the guard had backed down, allowing them to leave the clearing unscathed as they began the hike back to the academy.

Just as it had been several hours earlier, the walk was silent, though for different reasons than before. In the morning, everyone had been tired due to lack of sleep. Now they were exhausted from their dive into the dungeon and on edge thanks to the corpse still slung over Jaro’s shoulder.

Regardless of the reason, few words were spoken between the Frost Blades on the way back to the academy, and the entire group simply walked in uncomfortable silence. For his part, Rowan had several questions, but it did not seem like any of his temporary companions would be interested in answering them, so he remained silent. He had to report back to Kanna with her share of the loot anyways, so he would just ask her.

When the spires of the academy finally appeared in their vision, the tension seemed to dissipate, the shoulders of the party growing lighter and their expressions becoming livelier. Rowan shared their sentiments. The academy represented safety and expertise—the two things they all coveted after this morning’s venture. Quickening their step, the group hurried towards Faebrook.

Patri was the happiest to see Faebrook’s gate, the forest thinning up ahead. Stenne’s healing was not at the level where it could fix everything, and Patri’s wounds oozed blood—the Aracocytus’ parting gift to him. His torn jerkin damp and stained with crimson, he was eager to get back to the academy where the more experienced healers could patch him up.

The two guards standing at the entrance to the academy seemed slightly surprised upon seeing the corpse of the Aracocytus but otherwise unconcerned about the state the party was in, allowing them entry without comment. Thankful for the first easy encounter he’d had today, Rowan followed the Frost Blades as they headed not for the dorms but for a part of the castle that he had never visited before.

“I’ll see you guys later.” With that line, Patri split from the group, making for the Healer’s Ward on the ground floor of the castle.

The others continued on, Rowan tagging along behind. Their destination was a wing of the castle not far from the entrance, past a large pair of double doors, beyond which Rowan could hear many people moving and talking.

Up front, Dillo glanced back at Rowan, more specifically at the sack over his shoulder, as well as the corpse held by Jaro. Satisfied that both were present, Dillo pushed the doors open, striding inside as the others followed.

The interior of the hall was set up like a street market. Large stalls lined the walls and centre of the room, filled with all manner of weapons, potions, foci, and other useful items for adventurers.

“Best part about dungeoning on Saturdays?” Dillo asked.

“The broker’s market is already here,” Fiin and Jaro responded, their weary tone indicating to Rowan that this was a favoured saying of Dillo’s. Stenne remained silent, not involving himself in Dillo’s shenanigans.

“Exactly,” Dillo said with relish, heedless of the tone of his comrades. “Now then, let’s go make some coin.”

The stall they headed for was at the far end of the hall, bearing a sign emblazoned with the image of a silver hammer. Nor’s Traders was scrawled in argent letters beside it, and a muscled man with a large belly beneath his tunic—presumably Nor, Rowan thought—sat behind the stall counter.

“Nor,” Dillo greeted, Nor’s eyes lighting up as he watched them arrive.

“Dillo! And my favourite group of adventurers! How are you, my friend?”

“Still alive,” Dillo replied. “Though it was pretty close today.”

“I can see that,” Nor commented, his gaze wandering to the Aracocytus corpse on Jaro’s shoulder. “An Aracocytus. I didn’t think the Frost Blades had been promoted to Iron rank adventurers, congratulations!”

“We haven’t,” Dillo responded sourly. “This was a climber.”

“And you beat it?” Nor seemed impressed. “That’s no small feat, my friend. My congratulations may have been preemptive, but I’m sure that it was not overly so.”

This brought a smile to the faces of the Frost Blades, even Stenne appearing happier at Nor’s words. To Rowan, it was obvious that the man was a master of buttering people up, and he did his best to study the trader as he spoke.

“Will you be selling the corpse?” Nor inquired, his expression humble, but Rowan could see the glint of greed in his eyes. The man smelled profit, and he was not about to let it escape.

“We will,” Dillo confirmed. “But it will be a delayed sale. We need to let the academy study the corpse first to make sure that it wasn’t a variant.”

“Of course, of course,” said Nor. “I would be happy to pay you now, and take possession of the body later.”

Dillo seemed relieved to hear this, his shoulders untensing. Clearly, he had not been sure whether or not Nor would accept the offered terms.

With an indulgent smile, Nor, glanced at Rowan. “Did you acquire any other items in your excursion?”

“Of course,” Dillo responded. Turning, he beckoned Rowan to step forward and place the sack on the counter, the bag making a pleasing thud as it landed. As Rowan stepped back, Dillo opened the sack, spilling the contents forth.

With an appraising eye, Nor examined the items before him, occasionally reaching into the pile to separate things or to get a better look at certain items. At last, he nodded and looked back at Dillo. “Everything here for sale as usual, I assume?”

“All but the magical crystals,” Dillo replied. “Those are promised to our porter for his services today.”

“Must have been a good porter,” Nor commented. “In that case, I’ll pay you twenty-two gold Vlends for the lot.”

“Twenty-two Vlends?” Dillo frowned. “There are over a hundred thimp horns in here, let alone all the other stuff we found. The horns alone would be worth almost fifteen if we took them to the guild.”

Nor spread his hands helplessly. “There’s been a surge of thimp dens appearing near the Valendian border recently. As a result, the guild’s lowered the reward for them. I could maybe do twenty-three Vlends, but no more.”

A stubborn look on his face, Dillo began haggling with the merchant, Stenne aiding him with prices as he did his best to extort a few more coins from the miserly merchant. At last, the two reached a compromise, Nor handing over twenty-four gold Vlends and a small handful of silver to Dillo, both of them wearing unsatisfied expressions.

The sight reminded Rowan of a saying he had heard a merchant use back in Taureen: “A successful negotiation is one in which both sides leave unhappy.” Obviously, neither Nor nor Dillo had come out of this trade with the upper hand, which seemed to suggest to Rowan that a fair deal had been struck.

Sweeping his new goods off the counter and into a row of chests below, Nor returned the magical crystals to the sack and handed it back to Dillo, who immediately foisted the bloody sack into Rowan’s arms. Much lighter now, the sack was easily slung over Rowan’s shoulder, as Dillo led the party towards the doors.

As they passed the other stalls, Rowan’s gaze was caught by a shock of red hair, a familiar face observing him with interest from behind a large stall. Seeing that she had been noticed, Sigrid winked at him, an act which Rowan had no idea how to respond to.

His stride faltering slightly, Rowan brought up his arm in a feeble wave, which caused Sigrid to grin, before turning away to deal with something inside her stall. Unsure of what had just happened, Rowan turned forward, but his action had been noticed by Dillo.

Following Rowan’s gaze, Dillo’s eyes narrowed. “You know that woman?”

“Not really,” Rowan responded truthfully. “Just met her once in town a few weeks ago. I’m surprised she even remembers me to be honest.” This was true. He had not expected to see Sigrid here, and he had definitely not thought she would recognize him, their only interaction having been the brief meeting inside Sloss’ Leathers back in Northall.

Hearing this, Dillo’s gaze softened, but his jaw was still clenched.

“Who is she?”

“A broker,” Dillo spat. “One that only deals with clients she thinks are ‘interesting’. Apparently, the Frost Blades don’t have enough potential for her to deal with us, despite the fact that we’re a top five party for our year. Stuck up bitch.”

The vitriol in Dillo’s voice surprised Rowan, and looking around, he could see that the other three members all wore hard looks as well. Even the normally stoic Stenne looked pissed, his jaw set in a hard line as he stared at Sigrid’s stall. Whatever interaction they’d had with Sigrid, it had not been a pleasant one.

“Well, Nor is a great broker as well, so let’s just forget her and move on,” Fiin said after a moment, clearly trying to push past the topic. For a second, Rowan thought Dillo might refuse, but with a frustrated shake of the head, he turned away, leading them out of the merchant’s hall.

The mood was still tense, but with Sigrid out of sight, the Frost Blades seemed to relax. Making a mental note not to bring her name up in the future, Rowan was just gathering the courage to ask if there was anything else they had to do when Jaro stepped up.

“Alright,” Jaro quipped, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “With that out of the way, we can finally get down to the best part of the post-dungeon experience.” The other three all smiled at this, leaving only Rowan standing there confused, waiting for Jaro to say more. Seeing that he had their attention, Jaro pointed forward. “The bath!”

“Gods, yes,” Fiin groaned. “I just want to lie back and forget about today for a bit.”

“I wouldn’t mind some relaxation,” Stenne admitted. Even Dillo nodded, a trace of the smile he’d worn in the morning prior to entering the dungeon returning to his face.

“You coming, Rowan?” Jaro asked, the boy’s face kind, a far cry from the indifference he had shown him this morning. After a brief consideration, Rowan nodded. Although he did not voice it, Rowan felt similarly to Fiin. The encounter with the Aracocytus had not been a fun one, and forgetting about it even for a few minutes would be wonderful.

And so Rowan found himself tagging along as the Frost Blades headed for the baths. Fiin split off once they arrived, heading for the women’s baths, and Rowan was forced to split off as well as the other three entered the Hafgufa House’s changing room.

The Draigwyn changing room was the smallest of the five, and it was deserted when Rowan entered save for a senior student that he did not recognize, who was busy towelling off, which Rowan presumed meant he was leaving.

His armour and clothes going in a small locker along with the sack containing Kanna’s magical crystals, Rowan stepped into the small shower room, aiming to quickly rinse off the more egregious grime and muck that had accumulated on him before heading out to the bath. Although the baths were ostensibly for cleaning, apparently there was a limit to how much of others filth people wanted to be floating in, something Rowan found eminently reasonable.

The magical crystal within the showerhead glowed as he stepped under it, cool water flowing from it and onto his body. Shivering, Rowan did his best to get the shower over with quickly, his hair hanging down wetly over his eyes as he scrubbed the dirt from his body.

Satisfied that he was clean enough, Rowan escaped the cold flow, the shower crystal remaining active for another few seconds before going dormant again as Rowan wrapped himself in a towel and left the showers for the bath proper.

Steam rose up around him as he stepped into the bathhouse, a large chamber dominated by the enormous pool of shallow water that stretched from one side of the room to the other. A few other students were already inside, their faces relaxed as they basked in the warm waters of the bath, but Rowan couldn’t make out any identifying features through the haze of vapour in the air.

Placing his towel to the side, Rowan let out a blissful sigh as he slipped into the bath, the warm water easing the aches from a day of adventuring in a manner that healing magic just couldn’t match. This was only the third time he had used the Faebrook bath, usually resorting to the faster and more private showers in the dormitory to clean the sweat and grime off.

The last time he had used the baths had been in the middle of an organized relaxation session for the students of House Lykia, and the amount of beastman flesh on display had given Rowan severe culture shock. This time, however, that wasn’t the case, and it was with a contented smile that he relaxed against the smooth walls of the bath.

“You’re here already?” Dillo’s voice broke Rowan from his relaxation, both eyes opening to behold Dillo, Jaro, and Stenne standing over him. Their pale bodies marking them as northerners to any who looked.

Despite two months spent up north, Rowan’s skin was still a light brown, tanned deeply from a decade and a half of living under the blazing desert sun. He did not know his true skin colour, only that he was gradually getting paler as the weeks passed. However, he doubted that he would ever be as pale as the three in front of him.

Oblivious to Rowan’s ogling of their shining skin, the trio discarded their towels and waded in beside him, sitting back and allowing the warm waters to do their thing.

“Ah,” Stenne sighed appreciatively. “That’s the stuff.”

“Just what you need after nearly dying to a bone spider thing, eh, Stenne?” Jaro needled.

“Indeed.” Sinking deeper, Stenne slid forward until only his mouth, nose, and eyes were above the water, the rest fully submerged in order to fully appreciate the healing powers of the bath.

Now that Rowan got a good look at them, he could see that each of the trio bore several scars, Stenne having the least, a testament to the selfless sacrifices that Dillo, Jaro, and the absent Patri had made, giving up their own bodies to keep his safe.

Dillo had a gnarly scar that stretched from his upper shoulder down to the opposite waist, the cause of which Rowan did not want to imagine.

Seeing his glance, Dillo grinned, thrusting his chest forward. “You like it?”

“Uhhhh…” Rowan stammered.

Dillo laughed. “I’m just messing with you. I got this back in second year. We were in a dungeon that we hadn’t properly prepared for, and my armour wasn’t up to snuff. A skeleton’s greatsword nearly sliced me in half. Stenne here was beside himself trying to keep me alive while the others did their best to keep the other enemies off us.”

“Thirteen skeletons and you go down against the first one,” Jaro said lazily, not opening his eyes as he joined the conversation. “Was a hell of a job keeping them off you two.”

“But you did,” Dillo replied. “And we all got out alive, although we didn’t manage to clear the dungeon that day. It’s mostly faded now, thanks to the healers. But it’s a great conversation starter whenever I’m topless around the girls.”

“Speaking of which, it’s a shame Fiin can’t join us here,” Jaro lamented, his head back as he rested against the edge of the bath.

Rowan tilted his head at this. Fiin was a girl, why would she join them in the bath?

Seeing Rowan’s confusion, Jaro appeared momentarily confused, before suddenly coming to a realization. “Right, I keep forgetting you’re not from the North, man. Bathing together is a northern thing, although I think I’ve heard they do it out east as well?”

“Hot springs and bathing, yes,” Stenne interjected.

Jaro tilted his head towards Stenne. “Yeah. Anyways, bathing together is a northern thing, especially saunas. Normally, it’s all done together, regardless of gender, but the prudes down south would throw a hissy fit if they had to do that, so the baths in Faebrook are separated.” Jaro hissed something under his breath that Rowan didn’t quite catch, but that sounded like a slur. “Either way, if you ever want the real experience, you’ve gotta visit a real northern bathhouse one day. We’ve got one at our family’s manor, you should come see it if you’re ever in the area.”

“I’ll remember that,” Rowan promised, receiving a grin from Jaro.

“I’ve been wondering, but where are you from anyways, Rowan?” Dillo asked. “It’s pretty clear you’re a human, but I can’t tell from where. You’ve got the tan look of someone from the southern reaches of the empire, or the Nuxiong Dynasty, but you’ve got bright eyes while everyone from those places have dark ones.”

“My family is from Tirsiog, but I grew up in Taureen, in the southern part of the empire,” Rowan said, the prepared lie emerging smoothly from his lips. “My father was a caravan guard who decided to settle down in Taureen when he got a good offer to become a sergeant of the guard there.”

“But you’re too dark to be from Tirsiog,” said Jaro.

“Fifteen years in the desert will do that to you,” Rowan replied, earning himself a laugh from Dillo.

“He’s right, Jaro. Plus, as the kid of a guard, I’d imagine he was outside a good bit more than your pampered noble ass was.”

“Hey, my pampered noble ass saved yours today,” Jaro said threateningly, but his eyes were alight with mischief. Standing up, he turned and presented his butt to Dillo. “You can insult it all you want, but you’re just jealous—”

Whatever else Jaro had been about to say was cut off, as Dillo kicked him in the back, sending him flying into the water with a large splash. Spluttering loudly, Jaro resurfaced, splashing water at Dillo who eagerly returned the favour.

“Enough, you two,” Stenne said from the side, causing the two to cease their antics, though both wore large grins.

“Anyways,” Dillo said, acting as if nothing had happened. “Like I was saying, Rowan probably spent a lot more time in the sun than you did, Jaro. And he’s also probably not descended from snowmen like you are.”

Making to stand up once more, Jaro was stopped by a threatening glance from Stenne, who was doing his level best to relax despite his friends’ antics.

“Alright, alright, we’ll stop,” Jaro assured him.

As the group relaxed in the pool once more, Jaro turned to Rowan. “Since you’re from the empire and not the dynasty, does that mean you gave up your family name before coming here?”

“I did,” Rowan affirmed, stalling for a moment to gather his thoughts. Kanna had helped him to prepare an answer for this question as well, but he would need to sound convincing. “As the first in our family to attend an academy, I want to do great things, and to earn a name for myself that reflects my accomplishments, so I dropped my family name before enrolling. My mother wasn’t too thrilled about the idea, but my father was supportive. He told me that no great man ever became one by playing it safe, and to do whatever it takes to create the legacy I wish to leave behind.”

“A true man,” Dillo praised. “My father was similar. I’m proud to wear the name he earned for our family, and I work hard to live up to the example he set.”

Upon hearing this, Rowan wracked his brains to remember Dillo’s family name. Kanna had told him Dillo’s full name, but that had been a few days ago. Horn rain? Torn dane? No… Suddenly, it came to him. “Hornsbane, right? How did your father earn that name?”

“He slew a minotaur in single combat to defend his party in the fifth level of a dungeon,” Dillo replied, his excitement clear as he leaned forward to tell the story. From the reverent way in which he spoke, Rowan could tell he held his father in high esteem. “The rest of his party was down, but their healer used the rest of her mana to bring my father back from the brink. Armed with nothing but a sword and shield, he fought the beast for thirty minutes before killing it, losing an arm in the process. He took its horns, and had a pair of drinking cups commissioned, which he only brings out for the most honoured of guests at our homestead.”

“A minotaur,” Jaro shook his head in awe. “No matter how many times I hear the story, I’m still impressed. I can’t even imagine fighting one of those, let alone doing it alone.”

Dillo grinned, clearly proud of his father’s accomplishments. Turning back to Rowan, he clapped a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “My family’s name before my father slew the minotaur was Tiller, a bunch of simple farmers, so don’t give up. Your dream is possible.”

“I won’t,” Rowan promised. Somehow, he felt that his lie had brought him closer to Dillo, and he was not sure how that made him feel.

On the one hand, it wasn’t completely a lie, he did intend to raise merits and earn a name befitting of an adventurer. On the other hand, Dillo clearly believed that they were the same, when in reality Rowan did not even know his parents’ names, much less their accomplishments. Would Dillo think less of him if he found out the truth?

All the more reason to hide it, a little voice whispered in Rowan’s ear. Resolving to do just that, Rowan plastered a smile on his face, bantering lightly with Dillo and Jaro as they enjoyed the cleansing heat of the bath.