Faye and Gavan had left the inn and Seán behind, two days earlier. Safely tucked into their pack were the letters he was hoping for them to deliver. Otherwise, they had been given a small waterskin bursting with his good liquor, and as much fresh food as they could carry before they went on their way.

The way forward had been relatively uneventful, compared to their time at the Traveller’s Rest. In the time they had spent travelling, Faye had spent time meditating on her skills, the spells, and her attributes. Alongside that, she would train when they stopped for food, or on the night. She was slowly getting used to the changes in her body and was realising the extent to which she was not the same as she had been.

Part of the problem, with levelling, was that the mind was not affected by the level up as much as the body was so it took time for the changes to catch up and for the brain to realise that the body is capable of much more than it had been.

Now, Faye’s flexibility and strength were much higher than they had been and she was enjoying the new-found skill she displayed when she trained.

Gavan was continuing her education in basic spellwork, too. He was trying to get her the magical theory grounding that she would need to continue studying at a high level, and part of Faye wondered if that was the right way to go about it, but she let him teach her what he thought was best. For now, at least.

It was not that it was boring, because it was fascinating. Magic was almost a science. Make an observation, hypothesise, predict, test, and analyse the results. At the end of the process, the practitioner would either know something more about how the system worked, created a new spell, or perhaps unlocked a spell that they knew existed but did not already have in their status.

Hearing Gavan talk about it, Faye imagined a room of wizened scholars in bright blue robes and pointy hats, stroking enormously long white beards and arguing over the semantics of an arcane word.

She just could not picture herself there.

It was not his fault, she figured. Gavan was a scholar, first, and an adventurer, second. His job paid the bills, as much as anyone had bills in this world, but it was his love of experimentation and research that drove him forward.

As they walked, Faye worried at the question in the back of her mind like a piece of tough meat.

What is it that drives me forward?

She asked herself the same thing over and over. Each time she touched upon an answer, she realised it was not true.

But something did drive her. She knew it, as much as she knew her name was Faye. So, why could she not put her finger on it?

Before the spectre, before landing in this world, even, Faye had been driven by fear. She had never admitted it to herself. But, thinking back on it now. There had always been fear in her heart when she moved through life. Learning to fight. Arguing with people. Pushing people close to her away before they could hurt her. Avoiding responsibility… all the self-destructive things she had done back home she felt she could lay at the feet of Fear and say, “Look! You made me into this!”

But now…

The road crested a small rise, the midday winter sun low in the sky, shining brightly to the right. It cast dark shadows, but even with the disruption they could see the cultivated land around them. Carefully maintained copse of trees lined planted fields, despite the season, and here and there movement betrayed the farmhands that worked the land.

As she looked out across the almost black and white landscape, the colour leeched from her sight by the bright sun, Faye put aside the thoughts of what pushed her forward. Fixating on it was dragging her down. She felt it like an anchor around her neck. She took a deep breath and turned to Gavan.

“Looks like it’s time to meet some people again.”

“Aye,” he replied, with a nod. “Not sure what this place is called. But, look, the buildings are clustered over there.”

He raised an arm to point to the north, left off the road, and sure enough Faye could see the collection of buildings that were gathered together.

“Let’s go see who they are, then.”

The people in the fields paid little attention to the pair as they turned off the road and followed the trail toward the small collection of houses. It was not that they were ignored, but the labourers were clearly too busy to stop. They looked to be harvesting whatever had been planted.

“Surprised there’s anything to harvest at this time of year,” Faye commented.

“Hmm, yeah, not usual for a whole field to be planted with specialist crops in the dead of winter,” Gavan replied. “But it’s not too unusual, either.”

Faye shrugged. “At least this Steading has food.”

“We’re not a Steading, actually,” a man called out.

Faye and Gavan came to a stop and turned to look at the man who had just stepped up from the lower level of the field to their right. He pulled off a pair of thick gloves as he came, tucking them into his belt. He wiped his palm on his tunic.

“Don’t think I’ve seen ye around here before,” he continued. “Looking for work?”

Faye shook her head and smiled. “No, thank you, we’re just passing through.”

A flash of annoyance rippled across his face. The man grunted. “Nóremest, then. Fine. Good day.”

He went to walk on, but Gavan coughed and stepped forward. “Actually, we were wondering if you had any news. We are Adventurers.”

The farmer turned back to them, the annoyance abating slightly. “Adventurers. Ain’t seen any of you for a long time. A long time.”

Faye shared a look with Gavan, wondering exactly what had been happening in the Guild for them to ignore part of their duties. Lóthaven was not responsible for anything here, there were higher priorities closer to the town, or further north and south from Lóthaven. Nóremest should be sending groups out this way at least once a year.

“How long is a ‘long time’?” Faye asked.

“At least two years,” the man replied, spitting on the dirt. “Not that anything’s been needed. Lucky, ‘spose.”

Gavan frowned. “Two years? Are you certain?”

“What, I can’t count the months, ‘cause I’m not from the city?”

The man had squared up a little, and his hard-labour had given him the physique of someone that would be able to easily bench press Gavan’s body weight, or more.

Gavan held up a hand. “That is not what I meant. The Guild has a duty to you, and this village.”

“I’m not familiar with your village, actually,” Faye added. “What is it called?”

“We don’t really call it anything,” the man said, looking over his shoulder at the buildings. “Maybe we will, eventually. Started off as just a few families, but the Srúta were the first. Could be we’d be called Srúta’s Hamlet.”

Faye nodded. “Thank you. I’m Faye, Adventurer. This is my companion, Gavan. What can we call you?”

“Riag,” he replied. He nodded twice, one for Faye and one for Gavan. “If you want to ask more, go see Old Srúta himself.” He gestured to the buildings ahead. “I’ve got more work to do.”

Saying goodbye, they left the man to his work. He watched them walk on but soon turned back to the field.

“Seems like there’s some civic pride,” Gavan muttered.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Faye replied, equally quietly. “Just getting tired with this kind of reception.”

“You and me, both,” Gavan said.

The buildings seemed like larger family-sized homes — perhaps large enough to be considered manor houses. But, counter to what Faye would have expected of a country house, these were not made of stone. The thick logs that made up the corners of the houses were coupled with thick wooden planks that kept some of the live wood edge as they made up the walls.

“Pretty,” she remarked.

Close to, it was obvious that the hamlet itself was as busy as the fields. Faye did not see a single person standing idle. The sounds of manufacture and crafting emanated from almost every area of the small collection of buildings.

As they approached the first house, they saw that the door was wide open and people were using it regularly. A younger girl came scuttling out just as they got there and Faye lifted a hand.

“Oh, hello! Could you help us?”

The girl came to a quick halt, looking at them with thinly veiled suspicion. “Who are you?”

“I’m Faye,” she said, “an Adventurer. This is my friend, Gavan. We were told that Old Srúta is the leader here. Can we speak with him?”

“What for?”

“It’s part of our job,” Faye said. “We look after places like this, make sure there are no bad men nearby, nasty monsters, things like that.” She smiled at the girl, but the suspicious look did not falter.

“I’m not sure I should—”

“Tabha! Where did you get off to?” a young woman called out as she stormed out of the manor’s open door. She pulled up short as she saw Faye and Gavan but walked forward until her hands were resting on the girl’s shoulders. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Faye replied. “I was just saying to Tabha, we’re looking for Old Srúta. Riag, back toward the road, directed us this way.”

The woman looked over their shoulder, toward where Riag and the other field workers would be. She nodded slightly and turned back toward the door. “In that case, you can come in. Tabha, go on, get back to the schoolroom. You have much more to do before you can play today.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, now go on!” the young woman chided her, pushing the girl back toward the manor. “Sorry about her, she’s a handful.”

“That’s quite alright,” Gavan said. “I am Gavan, and this is Faye, we’re from the Guild.”

“Oh, is that so?” the woman said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, don’t expect a warm welcome from Srúta. Especially if you go calling him old to his face.”

Faye grimaced. “I’m sorry… Riag—”

“Was trying to cause trouble,” the woman interjected. “It’s been years since the last Guilders came through. What brings you this way all of a sudden?”

“We are travelling to Nóremest,” Faye said.

“To the city,” the woman said, humming. She led them through the open lobby of the manor, the term appropriate because no matter the material of construction it was as grand as any country house back home, and to the large staircase at the back of the ground floor. “Well, if you’re from further afield, maybe you can figure out what’s happening with the Guild.”

Faye exchanged a glance with Gavan. He looked just as confused as she was. “What do you mean?”

The woman looked over her shoulder. “Well, maybe not. Srúta’s through there.” She pointed up to a doorway that was on the first floor, the doorway standing open. “Good luck.” She left them on the stairs, quickly descending them back to the ground floor and sweeping away into another part of the manor.

“Well, that was odd,” Faye said.

“Hmm.”

Faye turned and made her way up to the first floor proper, one hand on her sword hilt so that it did not rattle as much. She tried not to hide her steps as she approached the doorway and raised a hand to knock on the door jamb.

“Who’re you?”

Faye froze, her hand still raised to knock, staring straight into the eyes of a man who was as short as she was, but rather than the youthful faces and thick head of dark hair she had gotten used to from the natives of this world, she looked instead into the wrinkled lines of an older man’s face, the valleys of his face adding great character to his sharp, dark eyes. His silver hair was swept back from his face, gathered at the nape of his neck.

She stepped back onto the landing a little to give him some space.

“Ah, apologies, I am Faye, and this is Gavan. We’re from the Guild.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “The guild? Which guild? There are many.”

“Adventuring Guild.”

“Really? I assumed the Seamstresses had sent armed guards with my latest shipment.”

Faye felt her face heating. She was not sure why she was so embarrassed, but it was as if she was being scolded and she hated it.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Gavan said, stepped beside Faye, “we were passing by and wanted to ensure that everything is as it should be.”

“Oh, aye,” Srúta said, his sharp eyes boring into them both, “it’s all as it should be, alright. No thanks to you lot, I can assure you. We’ve dealt with enough on our own now that I don’t think we’ll need you—”

“Srúta!”

They all stopped, shocked, as someone downstairs shouted the old man’s name.

“Srúta! Get out here you old bastard.”

Srúta scowled and Faye moved out of his way as he stormed out to the banister, looking down at the ground floor.

“I’ve told you once already, you’re not wanted ‘round here!”

Faye hummed. “Think we’ve found the local problem.”