For what seemed an age, Christoph stood motionless as Henry continued to sob quietly into the wooden surface of the tree root. Eventually, Cliff approached the pair, having suppressed his urge to vomit. The tall woman, too, seemed to have recovered without actually being sick, but she remained as far from the scene as possible without parting with the group.

Cliff crouched down next to Henry, reaching out to clasp a hand onto his shoulder. “This is not the time to mourn,” he said. “We need to let the others know what’s happened.”

Henry’s sobs gave way to erratic breathing, the adventurer slowly raising his head to stare up at the aftermath of Christoph’s last meal. Walking over to his armored companion, Cliff spoke to him softly before gesturing back in Christoph’s direction. Taking the cue, Christoph joined Cliff, the tall woman following behind as they began the journey back from where they had come, leaving the other two men behind.

…

Down by the stream, a small fire burned. The fireplace was built from loose rocks and fueled by chunks of oversized bark, and every so often it crackled and sent a spark flying over the rocky ground it was set upon. Christoph had sat in silence as Cliff had gathered the rocks and wood, the tall woman standing around wordlessly and a gloomy atmosphere settling over the impromptu camp.

“Did you see the beast?” Cliff asked him over the fire.

“No,” Christoph said, shaking his head. “I just heard it moving around. I got the feeling I didn’t want to meet it.”

“If it really did kill the Guardian that means it’s above our level,” Cliff replied. “We should head back to Forestry and report to the guild.”

“No,” the tall woman replied. “Henry will never agree to that.”

Cliff nodded in grim understanding. “You’re right, but this incident should be enough to elevate the quest to a Gold rank at the least. Both the Church and the Guild need to be informed.”

“Do you know what kind of beast it is?” Christoph asked. He knew, of course, but he wasn’t about to confess his sins.

Fortunately, Cliff just shook his head. “There have been reports, lately, of adventurers coming across the remains of… coming across scenes similar to that. The guild assigned it a Silver Rank, so we came out to check on it, but now…”

“Oh? Has the beast been here for a long time?” Christoph asked. Assuming that the ‘beast’ Cliff spoke of referred to him, he might be able to find out how long he’d been wandering mindlessly around the forest before the Guardian had attacked him.

“A couple of weeks,” Cliff replied. “Maybe longer.”

Christoph winced inwardly as his mental timeline was confirmed. Weeks? Sacrilegious Shield must have assumed him dead for that much time to have passed.

“What brought you to the forest anyway?” asked the mage. “You didn’t come for the beast, then?”

“I’m not even an adventurer,” Christoph said. “I used to be something of a mage, but it seems I’ve lost the ability to channel mana. I don’t know, I guess I thought that if I was in any actual danger it’d come back to me.” The woman made a face, but Christoph couldn’t recognize her expression.

Footsteps approached and Henry appeared above them, walking down into the camp with the burly man behind him. The only signs of his breakdown earlier were the patches of moss that had on the knees of his trousers, and the way he idly held his hand over the hilt of his sword.

“Well, Henry,” Cliff began. “God’s Compass is yours to command. What would you have us do? We don’t have enough supplies to remain here for long, and if we do run into the beast I doubt we’ll be able to take it down.”

Henry sat down at the camp, rubbing at his forehead with his knuckles. Cliff and the others looked on, waiting for him to speak. “In the few weeks the beast has been active, there’s been no sign it was hostile to people.” Henry looked up at them. “That’s why it stayed at a Steel rank for so long before moving up to Silver. If we can, it’d be best to track it down for the guild before we call for a high-ranked hunt, but we have no food…”

Cocking his head, Cliff he turned towards Christoph. “What have you been eating?” he asked.

Christoph gestured to the stream. “Fish. For some reason they seem unaffected by the mana in the forest, so they haven’t mutated into magical creatures just yet.” Truthfully, he had ignored the few fish he had noticed in the water earlier because they didn’t have the telltale blue mana flare of the forest beasts. The thought of eating actual raw food still sat uneasily with him, despite all that had happened.

“Of course,” Henry said, a look of realization on his face. “The water here flows all the way from the dwarven mountains. The fish must taste of metal, but they would be edible.” He turned towards the armored man. “Dane, do you think you could make it back to Forestry by yourself?”

Christoph was sure to make a mental note of Dane’s name, also telling himself to remember that Forestry was some sort of place. Judging by the way that Cliff had mentioned the Guild in it before, it was most likely a town.

“It’s possible,” Dane said. “Are you planning to remain behind and search for the beast while I go on ahead?”

“That’s exactly what I’m planning,” Henry replied. “We’ll be counting on you, brother.”

…

The group helped Dane pack his bags and, leaving him the majority of the supplies, bid him farewell. Almost as soon as he was away, Cliff moved down to the stream to try to secure some more food. The tall woman followed him, leaving Christoph alone with Henry by the fireplace. Henry moved to gather more of the giant bark before the sun could set, and Christoph following him out of a sense of obligation.

Multiple times, he opened his mouth to ask Henry about his ears, but each time he stopped himself short. Never mind Regal putting up with his ignorance of magic, it wouldn’t do for the others to realize he didn’t even know if elves existed in this place. By the time they had gathered a large pile of dry wood for the fireplace, the target of his curiosity had caught on. “You want to know how an elf came to be leading the church’s guild party, don’t you?” Henry asked.

Christoph shook his head. “Actually, I was wandering about the party itself,” he replied. “I’ve not heard of it before.”

“Ah,” Henry said. “To put it simply, we’re the younger generation of the church, trying to improve our ties with the Guild. Brother Cliff and sister Sierra are representatives of the Creator’s Blessed, while brother Dane and I are of the Creator’s Willful.”

He must have seen the shocked expression Christoph was trying to hide, because he began to laugh softly. “Now you’re wondering how an elf came to lead the church’s guild party,” he said. “Well, my circumstances aren’t exactly normal. As you know, the high elves don’t think much of my kind, the fae bastards. The blood of the lesser races, they say.”

Christoph nodded along dumbly, glad he hadn’t mentioned the subject earlier.

“My father was the elf,” Henry continued. “My mother an adventurer who died during some quest. Probably.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I was given to the guild as a babe, and from there handed to the church. No doubt if the elf had been my mother I would have been aborted and forgotten.”

“You were raised by the Church of the Creator’s Willful?” Christoph asked.

“I was,” Henry replied. He sat down by the fire, dusting his hands off on his pants. “When I was old enough to learn about the world, I decided I wanted to be an adventurer, dashing in to save young women from magical beasts and earn fame and glory.” He laughed again. “Well, I didn’t want to leave the church though, so here we are.”

A silence fell over the pair, and Christoph shifted uncomfortably. Did Henry expect him to share his past as well? Before the half-elf could open his mouth, Christoph spoke. “It’ll be dark soon. I’ll go see if Cliff needs help with the fish.”

Henry nodded, smiling. “I’ll see if I can figure out some kind of spit or hot-plate to cook them on,” he said. “Oh, and sister Sierra told me that you’ve become unable to channel? She may look like she doesn’t care, but if you ask I’m sure she’d be willing to help. If you can stomach her aid, anyway.”

Christoph left Henry to look after the fire and hurried away to the stream, the adventurer’s parting words weighing heavily on his mind. Although he had never been a mage, his reserves of mana would surely surpass what was needed to cast a simple spell. If he was able to learn magic it would vastly increase his chances of survival. Actually, how much of his mana could Sierra sense? If he had to leave the camp regularly to hunt down a beast, would she become suspicious when he returned each time with more mana than before?

“Something troubling you?” Cliff’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Christoph stopped to see the bowman arranging several medium-sized fish on a large flat rock nearby.

“Henry told me about the party,” Christoph said. “His story, too.”

“Did he talk to you about the Guardian?” Cliff asked, pausing for a moment.

Christoph shook his head. “No,” he said. “Actually, he seems to be forcing it behind him. He was laughing and smiling just now.”

Cliff set the last fish down with a sigh. Drawing his knife, he began to scale them. “Don’t mind him,” he said. “This isn’t a secret among the adventurers, but it’s rumored that the Guardian saved his mother’s life once. She was a famous adventurer in her time, and a large part of why the church allowed him to form God’s Compass as he did. Added to that, they had a history – it was an important figure to him.”

“He also told me I should ask Sierra for help concerning my mana channeling,” Christoph said, changing the subject. “Is that a good idea?”

Cliff suppressed a laugh as he scaled the fish. “If you ask her I doubt she’ll say no, but fair warning – she loves teaching people, but I’ve never heard anyone say they enjoyed learning from her.”

A yell from above interrupted their conversation, and the two men froze. A moment later, the faint sound of metal on metal drifted down from the rocks above. Dropping his knife, Cliff drew a larger dagger from behind his lower back, running past Christoph and up the nearest tree root back to the fireplace. After a moment’s hesitation, Christoph followed behind.

Cresting the rocky ledge and looking over the solid stone surface which served as their camp, Christoph saw the source of the commotion. Henry had his sword drawn, and was pointing the thin blade towards the intruder, a younger looking girl who seemed to be wearing a long-sleeved fur jacket and similar pants. She held a curved dagger in one hand, and in the other clutched a bundle of fabric which Christoph recognized as the party’s parcel of dried meat.

“Stay back.” Cliff warned him, holding out his arm so Christoph couldn’t run into the fight. “Look,” he said, pointing towards the dagger she gripped. “It’s poison. Not the lethal kind, I doubt, but bad enough leave you passed out and in pain for a couple of days.”

Henry held a fencing stance, keeping the girl at a distance. His long thrusting sword swayed softly, the dagger in his left hand ready to strike should she sneak past its point. The four of them held their positions for a while before Christoph noticed something familiar dangling around her neck.

“She’s an adventurer!” he said. He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t seem as though her medallion was the silver or gold of the ones he had seen before.

Henry made a face of disgust. “Now then, thief,” he said evenly. “Care to explain why you were helping yourself to the provisions of another party?”

The girl broke her stance, standing up straight and puffing out her chest with pride. “I am not a thief!” she said. “I am Emilia , future lord of the Greater Paw. For ownership of this meat, I challenge you to a duel!”