Florian woke to see Tonbridge already a hive of activity, with the few dozen people that seemed to call the place home sprinting from destination to destination. Most carried baskets or wore backpacks, with a few getting into trucks that had been stored in a ramshackle garage pressed against the ancient stone walls. But through all of the activity, there seemed to be order; everyone knew where they had to be, and there was a calmness to the activity, excepting when the traders caught sight of him – at which point they chose to glare.

It was the perfect antithesis to Leeds. The atmosphere was nice, and Florian felt that he might have enjoyed it under better circumstances. Finding that he wasn’t all that hungry for breakfast, and because he was public enemy number one, it was time to make good on his promise to Jones to return quickly. He picked up his spear and his backpack full of provisions and made for the gate when a half-sunken building drew his attention.

Some kind of bastardization of a wine cellar and a warehouse, Florian watched briefly as people walked into the building. All of them strode into it with purpose, their eyes set forward and jaws locked. They left the structure with a firearms and what looked to be bulging pockets of ammunition. These men and women, all of them wearing baggy but robust clothing, were going to leave Tonbridge. And this building, then, was their armory.

Fewer than ten took weapons from it, and they left on their rumbling trucks before the sun could even leave the horizon behind. For a brief moment, the area was devoid of anyone, the majority of the residents of the castle over by the massive warehouses that occupied the rest of the open space. Common sense told him that the traders would be very protective of their guns. Curiosity overrode that common sense, and Florian made like a roadrunner and ran to the armory and through its shadow threshold.

Inside, it was illuminated by a single pair of torches. The majority of the smoke was led outside through a special chimney, but enough of the smoke remained inside to make it reek. Florian questioned the safety precautions – given that most everything in the room was highly, highly, flammable – but he threw caution to the wind and started to examine everything.

It took him not even ten minutes to do so. The weapons racks were very bare, with broken guns amassing to a mountain in one of the corners of the room. Most looked like they had nearly been shorn in half by Hellwolves, their characteristic claw marks ever-present on the weapons. Others looked to be in good repair, but Florian imagined that hard use or bad conditions had ruined them.

The state of the ammunition was moderately better. He found cases of bullets, and while he couldn’t access them for his lack of a key, he assumed that Tonbridge could protect itself for at least a while longer. They had enough to field a small army here, much less the few dozen that called this castle home.

He picked up one of the rifles, noting that it might have been something like a hunting rifle pre-Worldbreak. It still served that purpose today, but Florian wondered if the single-shot weapon would be all that effective against the monsters. Without a solid shot in the head, it seemed that they could take significant punishment without dropping. And that flame giant… Florian preferred not to even think about it.

“Put the gun down.”

Florian turned around as fast as he was able, accidentally winding up with the barrel of the rifle pointed at a man in army fatigues and a pistol outstretched in his own hand. His senses were going wild, warning him of impending danger. He imagined an earthen rampart rising to protect him, and it was no sooner than it had finished that the situation was out of his hands – literally – and bullets were flying his way. The sound of the gun was deafening, even as Florian ducked to the ground hid behind his three-foot-tall barrier.

His head pounded something fierce, warning him of just how close he’d come to his limit. He remembered one of the real lessons that Theo had given him.

Remember, Florian, that using magic to make something permanent will always tire you faster than using it to create something temporary, whispered Theo’s voice to him. It was a lesson that he had learned long ago, but with hardly any time to find a non-permanent solution, his options were limited.

The bullets cracked into the wall, but it held. Nothing breached the packed earth, though he noticed a spiderweb of cracks appear on his creation as it was bombarded by the first few shots. After that, the man in military fatigues stopped, leaving Florian to listen to the loud ringing in his ears.

“I put the gun back! I was just looking!” Florian yelled out, now that he could be heard. He hesitated to raise his hands above the earthen barrier, worried that the trader might just take aim at them out of some sort of vengeance.

“Did you seriously do that?” the man asked with a surprisingly high-pitched voice. “Is that what Miss Faye meant by magic?”

Florian had absolutely no idea who this ‘Miss Faye’ was, but he felt that he had been thrown a lifeline. It would be remarkably stupid to ignore it. “Yes, that was magic. I mean no harm!” Taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, Florian poked his head out from cover. The man looked at him with wide, grey eyes.

“I’m sorry for being hasty, Wizard,” the man said, placing his pistol back into its leather holster at his side. Then, scratching the back of his head, he continued. “I was meant to find you and bring you to Miss Faye, the CEO of this outpost. You’ve been scheduled for a meeting.”

Now it was Florian’s turn to look at the other man with wide eyes. He had heard of absolutely none of this. And besides, despite what amounted to the end of the world, despite the destruction of all manner of cultural heritage, it seemed that somehow meetings remained well and alive. Florian snorted. “Alright, take me to her.”