Erevan left Anna at his mother's house. He had stayed long enough to get his wounded shoulder sewn up. Now, to lose the authorities he was going to clear out of town for a bit. Erevan heads to the waystone and runs into Krenshaw.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” Krenshaw calls out. The older adventurer runs up to the hunter. “No one at the guild has heard of you and there were some people who wanted to talk to us about the last mission.”

“If I sign up with the guild will they have work for me?” Erevan asks.

“Always. They need all the Champions they can find.” Krenshaw says. “Come to the Valhalla tavern with me.”

Erevan nods and follows Krenshaw to the tavern. The balding wizard takes a seat at a table with a half-orc.

“Thank you for settling the issue with our last contact here.” The half-orc says to Krenshaw. “Is this the new Champion?”

“Yeah, Burkwood,” Krenshaw says.

“Oh shit, you actually carry a ballista.” The half-orc rubs his chin.

“Yes, I do.” Erevan answers.

“You know the guards are looking for a man who wields a ballista. Say there were bolts at the scene of a pretty big crime.” The half-orc smiles at the man. “You wouldn’t happen to know who else uses ballistas?”

“No clue. Is there a bounty on the culprit?” Erevan clenches his fists.

“Not yet. But before one comes up, I imagine they’ll be far from here.” The half-orc slides over two golden pendants. “Take these. Go through the waystone, and the pendants will make the location you need to go glow. This isn’t a mission. This is a recruitment opportunity from a small noble.”

“Noted.” Erevan takes the pendant and leaves the tavern.

Krenshaw runs after him yelling for him to wait. The older man walks alongside Erevan and looks at him questioningly.

“You kill someone?” Krenshaw asks.

“Seven people. I did it to protect my sister.” Erevan states coldly.

“Right, not getting on your bad side anytime soon.” Krenshaw turns forward.

The two make it to the waystone and touch it. Erevan sees the map of the two continents again, he quickly reaches out for a glowing light south of the Barbarian Kingdoms. It's a small town in the Kingdom of Catania.

Erevan appears in the town next to the waystone with Krenshaw next to him. The two head out of the town towards the local noble’s home. It is on a hill that overlooks the nearby lands. Krenshaw and Erevan run into another figure before making the entire journey to the home.

The other figure is a white ratfolk with red priest robes on. However, there is a small sword at his side. He bows to Erevan and Krenshaw as they approach.

“Father, what brings you this way?” Erevan asks.

“My sect prefers the term Brother, and I was invited to the local noble's house as I have recently proven myself on missions as a Champion.” The ratfolk replies with a squeaky voice.

“Well Brother, I am Burkwood and this is Krenshaw.” Erevan waves to his compatriot.

“Well met.” Drek bows.

“Same to you,” Krenshaw says as he grabs Erevan’s arm and pulls him further along the trail.

“They didn’t mention we were being recruited by Catania or that there would be priests.” Krenshaw hissed under his breath.

“Just be on your best behavior then,” Erevan says and pulls his arm out of Krenshaw's grip.

The three arrive at the entrance to the noble's home. The mansion is only two stories, but it is admirably large for being nowhere important. The front door opens and a maid gestures for the group to come in. The maid is an older woman in basic peasant clothes.

The maid informs them that they need to leave their weapons at the door. Erevan respectfully places his ballista down, kicking out its stand, and rests his firearm against it. Drek removes his sword. Krenshaw raises his hands showing he has no weapons.

The group is escorted from the foyer to a sitting room. A room lined with chairs and comfy couches that all faced the middle. It has a piano in the center of the room, a chandelier hanging above it, and a patio on the far side.

In the room was an older man sitting with a black cane and a fancy suit on. On his right was an older woman in a purple dress. On his left was an older man in ceremonial armor fit for a general.

“Agh, these are the last guests.” The older man said. “I am Horatio, to my right is Amaranth, to my left is Xanther.” He gestures across the room to two couches.

On one couch sits a woman in a red dress and a man in a blue suit. At the other couch sat a woman with a purple vest on.

“That is Primrose, Professor Bisman, and Doctor Iris.” Horatio continues. “Playing the piano is my protege, Ordel. You already met the maid Mrs. Plum. And the two on that couch are your Champion compatriots who were here first.”

“Noah Windtome.” A blonde elven man stands and bows to the three who entered the room.

“Hera Voldigold.” Hera does a curtsy. “But I’ve already met two of you.” The Champion maid smiles.

“Krenshaw of Ronethstead, it is a pleasure to be here,” Krenshaw says with a slight bow.

“Drek, my people don’t have last names.” The ratfolk says and bows.

“Erevan Burkwood.” Erevan steps past the two who are still bowing and takes a seat at a chair.

Those in the room watch Erevan, taking note of his guard attitude. Drek takes a seat on his as well. Krenshaw sits next to Doctor Iris. He smiles widely as he adjusts in his seat. She however slides slightly away showing some discomfort.

“You know, I’ve never heard of Ronethstead.” Horatio comments.

“It’s a small farming village,” Krenshaw replies.

“Farming.” Amaranth scoffs.

“What do you do?” Erevan looks pointedly at Amaranth.

“I am currently a representative and benefactor of the Adventurer’s Guild. I have contacts with Catania’s nobility and use it to get jobs for the Champion. I was once an adventurer, but there are so many Champion now that people like me are hardly needed.” Amaranth explains.

“You were an adventurer without being a Champion?” Noah interjects.

“Yes. I mostly operated in the Rimalharu Desert as a courier.” Amaranth says. “Xanther saw far more combat than me.”

“Hah! Back in the good days! I led Catania’s naval forces for a few decades in my prime.” The man explains as he runs his fingers across his facial hair. He has two braided locks hanging down on either side of his beard while the rest is well-trimmed.

“You fought pirates?” Drek asks.

“More than that, I fought the Kingdom of the Black Sea. A terrible group that spans from our coasts to Provencia’s.” Xanther says with conviction. “I’d kill every last Skum if I could.”

“Skum?” Hera raises an eyebrow.

“Monsters of the deep. Half man, half some terrible fucking fish thing.” Xanther says with some malice to his tone.

“Skum are all male and can only reproduce with human women. Yet they’re revolting so it’s never much of a choice for the women involved.” Doctor Iris interjects.

“That's horrible.” Krenshaw visibly recoils. “Why haven’t we wiped them out?”

“Well, there was a peace treaty, but because of their recent activities tensions have been rising. Both Provencia and Atigan are gearing up for war if it becomes a necessity.” Doctor Iris explains.

“And you were a doctor of?” Erevan, the armored hunter, asks Doctor Iris.

“A medical doctor.” She answers snappily, quickly growing insecure, surprised by the question. “I have studied the anatomy of over forty races. And I have not done so over two hundred years of my elven lifespan to be questioned by a man with an inferiority complex so bad he brings a ballista with him to a dinner party.”

A silence falls over the room and Horatio opens his mouth to say something, but can’t quite find the right words. Obviously the dinner host feels caught off guard by the sudden outburst.

“It’s his plus one,” Krenshaw answers with a smile. The mage winks at Erevan.

A few smiles appear around the room. Erevan rolls his shoulders back, relaxing in the chair, as he reads the situation.

“She treats me right.” Erevan shrugs hoping to defuse the tension.

“I’m sorry,” Doctor Iris sighs. "for snapping at you."

“I’m sorry if I sounded like a dick,” Erevan replies. “Was not my intention to offend you.”

“Glad that is sorted,” Horatio says with a clap of his hands. “Now, for my proposal.”

“Agh, yes, the point of the night.” Noah Windtome mutters.

“I wanted to say that I have heard good things and promising reports on all of you.” Horatio gestures openly. “So I would like to sponsor all of you. Help you acquire equipment more fitting for your tasks at hand, and find magical trinkets that may aid your endeavors.”

“And the catch?” Erevan asks.

“Well for helping you survive the early missions, which have the highest fatality rate, we would be taking a small share of your earnings on each adventurers guild mission.” Horatio finishes.

“So you get a cut of what we earn?” Krenshaw raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you can’t possibly have the funds now for the kind of prestigious equipment I can gather for you,” Horatio explains.

“So you’re investing in us.” Noah folds his arms over his lap.

“I am, but I want you all to mull it over, really think about the offer. For now, let’s move into the dining hall and prepare for tonight's meal.” Horatio stands and walks to the door.

The old man holds the door open as the guests slowly filter out of the room. Some of them chatting amongst themselves. The maid held the door open on the other side of the room. Erevan walked through the door last and stopped as Horatio let go of the door.

“What is wrong, son?” Horatio looks at Erevan.

“Were you born into nobility?” Erevan asks.

“No, I earned it. I am a Champion and have done many great things with my life. But we all get old.” Horatio’s features seem softer as he talks so close to Erevan.

“I suppose I could work with another Champion,” Erevan says.

“Does that mean you’ll take the helmet off?” Horatio leaned heavily into the question.

“I don’t mean to offend. I’m just rather private.” Erevan replies.

The hunter slowly takes his helmet off.

“Well now, why would you hide a face like that? Wouldn’t have pegged you to be so young with your jaded exterior.” Horatio smiles.

“I didn’t take you for a flatterer.” Erevan smiles.

“Come on, let's go in and get some drinks for our party.” Horatio puts a hand on Erevan’s shoulder and the two walk into the dining hall.

As they enter Doctor Iris glares at Horatio, something Erevan immediately notices, that is before his attention shifts to Krenshaw. The balding mage chokes on some wine as he stares at Erevan. A Viking born with black hair who has no facial tattoos. Luckily there is a seat right next to Doctor Iris with Krenshaw sitting right across the table. Erevan takes the seat.

“I’m glad we could all gather. My servant has brought the food out. Feel free to help yourself.” Horatio says.

Erevan looks at the dish before him, it has a silver lid on it. He lifts the silver lid, feeling unsure at the sight of someone guarding food that way. Underneath the lid is roasted duck with all sorts of vegetables Erevan has never seen. They probably didn’t grow well in the frosted ground in the North.

“Feel free to drink and conversate. My friends are your friends.” Horatio says loudly from the head of the table.

“Oh, I’m sorry. My sect does not allow for the consumption of alcohol.” Drek says staring at the wine glass.

Drek was on the other side of Doctor Iris from Erevan. The hunter looks over and quickly up at the doctor.

“Mam, would you mind handing his wine to me?” Erevan asks.

“Oh, um, I guess not.” Doctor Iris turns to Drek. “Can I have that?” She asks him.

“Go ahead. I see my compatriot has enough thirst for the both of us.” Drek replies.

“I am afraid I have to take one for the team.” Erevan takes the wine glass from Iris.

“So how did you two meet?” Iris asks.

“Drek and I haven’t before tonight. Krenshaw and Hera were on my last mission.” Erevan states looking across the table.

Krenshaw’s eyes are wide as he stares at Erevan. Hera is sitting next to Krenshaw and quickly leans over the table.

“Erevan and Krenshaw shot down a giant construct being piloted by a goblin,” Hera says excitedly. “And I helped.”

“How?” Noah says from two spots down the table from her.

“What?” Hera turns his way.

“How is it that you helped them?” Noah asks.

“Well I reloaded Erevan’s ballista and I touched a slime,” Hera mutters her voice, draining of confidence.

“And Edwin would have been dead without her.” Erevan remarks.

“Whose Edwin?” Drek interjects.

“Just a really nice guy.” Erevan smiles.

“Huh, okay.” Noah retracts himself from the conversation just as someone else's conversation becomes much louder.

“Fuck you, Horatio! You only ever think about yourself!” Amaranth stands and leaves the table, storming out of the room.

“I can go talk to her,” Ordel says.

“No, it's fine.” Horatio shakes his head. “Let’s just enjoy our meal.”

The rest of the dinner goes smoothly with few interruptions. Krenshaw still casts odd glances at Erevan, but Erevan is certain the only one to pick up on it is Hera and Iris. Eventually, Primrose and Professor Bisman excuse themselves and leave to go upstairs. Erevan, getting suspicious of the group splitting apart slowly, excuses himself to the bathroom. Luckily he actually has to go.

Erevan finishes going to the bathroom, discovering plumbing for the first time, and stops in the hallway outside. He’ll peek into the Kitchen spotting the maid stirring a glass of wine. Suspicious, but not criminal yet. Erevan moves up the stairs finding a dozen bedrooms. A door is open to one. Primrose and Bisman are inside, apparently having a lover’s quarrel.

They speak about the ceremony being soon and things aren’t ready for it. Erevan wonder’s if he will ever marry.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop,” Amaranth says as she walks up to Erevan.

“Sorry, was trying to find you.” He says.

“Well, I’m here. I know I said a bit too much. I’m going back down to apologize.” Amaranth says halfheartedly.

“But you don’t want to,” Erevan says pointedly.

“No, I hate him.” She answers far too quickly. “But I want his money.” She shrugs.

“Fair enough.” Erevan heads back down the stairs with her.

They’ll enter the dining hall as Horatio is telling an impassioned story about adventuring in his prime. He’ll see Amaranth enter, pausing only to take a drink of his wine, as she walks towards him.

“I’m sorry,” Horatio says before she even speaks. “I realize that our divorce was hard on you and that continuing professional relations must be straining.”

“Oh fuck you,” Amaranth says. “I was upset at your two-faced fucking proposals. Not our relationship.”

A drop of blood spills down from the corner of Horatio’s eye.

“What did you say to me?” Horatio grinds his teeth together.

“Horatio, is that blood?” Amaranth leans forward, moving a hand to his face.

“You were always such a bitch.” Horatio brings a dagger out from his side and raises it to stab Amaranth.

Erevan quickly tackles the woman out of the way. The dagger slices across one of Erevan’s pauldrons. Cutting through it like butter in a way no blade should. Xanther quickly grabs Horatio from behind, struggling to get a hold of him, but the old man moves with strength unparalleled to his companions.

“Get a hold of yourself!” Xanther grabs the back of Horatio’s head, twists one of his arms, and with that there is a sharp, resounding crack.

Horatio falls back, slamming to the ground, as his last breath leaves his body.