The trudge back to the City was longer than he remembered. Dean managed to make it through the gates only minutes before they were due to close for the night.

  “Cutting it a bit short kid,” growled one of the City Watchmen as he looked Dean over. “You ought to be more careful at night. Haven’t you heard the rumors?”

  Dean shook his head, and the Watchmen sighed. He was old, at least by Watch standards, with a full head of white hair and a beard that had seen better days. The tired look in his eyes made Dean wonder what he’d seen. The Watchmen waved him through the gate before waving to the guard in the gatehouse. As it squeaked shut, Dean turned to him.

  “What rumors?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

  The Watchmen gave him a strange look, his eyes flicking to the armor he now wore and the blood coating the sleeves of his shirt.

  “It’s a bad time for hunting in these parts. The wilds in the Riverland have become overrun with beasts in some areas, and dungeons have been manifesting in the hills. Dozens of them, if the rumors are to be believed.”

  Dean shrugged.

  “That’s what the Academy’s for. The Guild’s take care of it.”

  “That’s just the thing.” The Watchmen flicked a tongue across cracked lips, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t overheard before lowering his voice.

  “The Guilds haven’t been doing their fucking job, have they? Beasts attacking travelers on the king's road, Dungeons in the hills being overrun and spilling into nearby towns and villages. And what have they done about it? Sent out a few parties to do a half ass job and collected the lion’s share of the pay. Bah.”

  The man shook his head.

  “Incompetence, that’s what it is. And who’s left to pick up the pieces but those who patrol the city and the roads? Not that we’re compensated for it, mind you.

  He trailed off, seeming to realize he’d been rambling.

  “Anyway, mind yourself, lad. We’ve had to retrieve more than a few bodies from the woods lately. That level of danger ain’t worth the money, believe me.”

  “Thanks,” said Dean absently as he turned away. His mind wasn’t on the money; instead, it was sinking into the hole of memory. Back then… months before the fall of Haven, there had been signs. Not just in the city itself, but in the surrounding land. The problems had started out small. Travelers attacked on the road, and rumors of dungeons spawning more frequently.

  Charlotte told me that before the first attack, there was a shortage of Adventurers. The last few years have been hard on Guild recruiting, and the deaths have been at an all-time high. But if that’s true…

  Dean clenched his fist. If that was true, then it could mean that the Guilds simply weren’t equipped to handle this threat. Maybe that’s why Haven was so vulnerable to attack during the Harvest festival. Back then, the city Watch hadn’t been equipped to handle the threat, and neither had the city.

  Hell, humanity itself wasn’t prepared. Not to face a threat like that.

  He shook his head, clearing his thoughts from his mind. Right now, he needed to focus on what he could control. Practicing, raising his base stats, and preparing for the exams were his greatest priorities. If he wanted to stand a chance of stopping the attack in eight months, then he couldn’t afford to fall behind in his training.

  Right now, he needed sleep, but tomorrow would be a new day.

  ***

  The bell chimed on the door to the Adventurers shop as Dean made his way in, closing it behind him. The Dwarven shopkeeper looked up, his eyebrows rising as he saw just who had entered.

  “Back already, eh lad?” he asked, giving Dean the once over. “Armor not fit you right?”

  Dean shook his head.

  “The armor’s fine. I came in because I have some monster materials and I wanted to what they were worth.”

  The shopkeeper’s eyebrows rose ever higher.

  “Materials? As in harvested materials? God’s above man, you hunted on your first day? You have a death wish or something?”

  Dean shrugged, reaching into his inventory and selecting the items he was looking to sell. The shopkeeper whistled as he dumped 9 venomous spider fangs down on the countertop before him.

  “Juvenile fangs,” he said, stroking his beard. “Nothing special, but they are in good condition, and it appears the venom can still be extracted. I must say I’m impressed. Not a bad haul for a first hunt. In fact I’d say this yield is fairly impressive. Tell you what, I’ll give you a silver and a half for them.”

  A smile tugged at Dean’s lips. “This fresh? Nah, I’d expect at least three silvers for this stock.”

  The Dwarf’s eyes lit up, and he let out a slow, deep chuckle. Dean had spent enough time around Dwarves to know they could appreciate a good haggle.

  “Three silvers are you pullin’ my leg? You’d be lucky to get two for this stock. Juveniles are easier to kill, and their venom yield isn’t quite as high as their larger brethren.”

  “Two it is then.”

  There was a pause in which the shopkeeper seemed to realize what had happened. Then he let out a booming laugh.

  “Oh aye, you’re a clever one alright. Fine, I’ll give you two silvers for the lot, but don’t expect your tricks to work twice.”

  Despite the sharpness of the words the Dwarf was still smiling into his beard as he counted out the silvers. Dean thanked him, then hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to broach the topic on his mind.

  “What now? Is two silvers not enough for you? You’ll be hard pressed to squeeze any more out of me.”

  “It’s not that,” said Dean quickly. “It’s… well. I was hunting in the forest and I came across something strange. A beast that had crossed zones and strayed too close to the city.”

  The Dwarf frowned. “Aye, that can happen. Sometimes beasts roam across zones, though it isn’t common.”

  Dean shook his head.

  “This wasn’t any ordinary beast.”

  Hesitating for a moment more, he decided it was best just to show the Dwarf what he meant. Reaching into his inventory, Dean pulled out the long snow white pelt and dropped it on the counter with a loud thud. It was heavier than he remembered, and the gleam of the fur seemed to catch the light.

  The Dwarf’s jaw dropped.

  “What in the name of the Gods…” he said, his expression hovering between disbelief and amazement. “May I?”

  When Dean nodded his ascent, the Dwarf leaned forward, brushing a hand through the silky fur.

  “An Alpha beast,” the shopkeeper breathed. “And the condition this pelt is in… you didn’t just find the creature dead, did you?”

  For a moment Dean considered lying. But by the look in the shopkeeper's eyes, he knew the Dwarf already knew the answer.

  “No,” he said at last. “It attacked me while I was hunting spiders. I was able to sense it coming… well sort of. And I got lucky.”

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  The shopkeeper shook his head, beard beads clattering.

  “I’d say so, lad. I know more than a few prospective Adventurers who would have had a tough time with a creature like this, and most of them are partied. In fact I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see the evidence in front of my own eyes. For a creature like this one, you’d be better off turning it into the guild hall. I hear for essence evolved beasts the head price can be.. substantial.”

  Dean nodded, sliding the heavy pelt off the counter and back into his inventory.

  “Thanks, I’ll give it a try.”

  He turned to go, but before he made it to the door the Dwarf called back out to him.

  “Dean..”

  He paused, hand hovering over the brass nob.

  “Yeah?”

  “I won’t pretend to know how you managed to accomplish this… but you should know. A feat like this, however impressive, will draw attention to you. There are many in this city who want to be Adventurers… those with connections and means. If word spreads of your.. skill… then you’d do well to watch your back.”

  Dean knew he was likely right. He wasn’t like most of the other registrants preparing to take the exam. He had neither a name nor a fortune to back him up. There were many that looked down on independent Adventuerers, especially if they started earning a reputation. Still, he wasn’t afraid of a little competition.

  “Thanks for the warning,” he said. “But I can take care of myself.”

  ***

  During her time as an Iron Rank adventurer, Harper had seen her share of newbies come and go. Adventuring, her father had told her, was not for the faint of heart. It was a dangerous profession, filled with risk, politics, and an unforgiving learning curve.

  That was why she didn’t think twice when the new guy strolled in. He certainly wasn’t dressed the part, wearing nothing more than crude leather armor that only half fit his lanky frame.

  The kid was probably no older than seventeen or eighteen, and when he joined the line snaking its way across the training hall toward the front desk, he earned himself more than a few strange looks. His armor was clearly second-hand, and the plain long sword at his hip looked older than he was.

  “Who the hell let in the street rat?”

  Harper didn’t have to look around to know who had spoken. After a year in the Guild, she’d recognize that irritating drawl anywhere.

  Maxim leaned against the railing of the VIP area with his usual casual arrogance. His blonde hair was slicked back from his forehead, making him look exactly like what he was – a spoiled aristocrat.

  Harper replaced her practice sword in its bracket on the wall and grabbed a towel from one of the nearby guild staff.

  “That ‘street rat’ has a temporary badge,” she said, gesturing towards the line. Sure enough the young man had pulled a set of papers from inside his tunic and slid them across the desk towards the staff. There was something familiar about him, but for some reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  “It’s not like it’s the real deal,” scoffed the rogue. He’d pulled one of his many knives from the bandolier on his chest and was flipping it over and over in his hand. “Anyone can be a prospective Adventurer, but it takes more than an untrained bumpkin to pass a sanctioned exam. Besides, he lacks proper kit and his sword isn’t even master made. No one in their right mind would even consider sponsoring him.”

  Harper shrugged. He wasn’t wrong, but if she said so to his face, she wouldn’t hear the end of it. The truth was that adventuring was a rich man's game. The wealthy, nobility, and those with means or connections usually had Adventurer parents or family members who would see to it that they were trained from birth.

  Natural talent also played a part - those with powerful parents would be more likely to inherit some of those parents' abilities when it came time to manifest a class. The reality was that those without money, connections, or genetics were at a severe disadvantage. She sighed and made to turn away, but Maxim made a sound of disbelief in his throat.

  “Hold on… what’s he got there?” The rogue was frowning now, his former bravado bleeding away into dark irritation. Harper glanced around, her eyebrows raised when she saw the young Adventurer pull a giant dire wolf pelt out of nowhere, dumping it with a thud on the counter before the Staff.

  “What in the seven circles of hell?” hissed Maxim, practically hanging over the railing to get a better look. His voice carried, but it was hardly in his nature to care. “That can’t be a-“

  “It’s an Alpha wolf pelt, alright,” said Harper, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. “Though how he got his hands on a prize like that is anybody’s guess…”

  They weren’t the only ones looking now. The sound of Maxim’s exclamation had drawn more than a little bit of attention from those training below. Heads turned in their direction, and several of the groups sparring on the mat ground to a halt as they turned towards the commotion.

  The young man seemed to have heard it as well. His head turned, and despite the crowd in the training hall, his eyes found Maxim, then hers. Recognition flared in her mind and Harper’s jaw nearly dropped open.

  “It’s him,” she breathed. “That kid that broke into the proctor's office just to speak with my uncle.”

  Maxim’s eyes narrowed.

  “And he let that stand? I’m surprised a proctor with his pedigree would vouch for some untested independent who has yet to manifest a class. Perhaps Baron Forsa is losing his touch.”

  Harper felt her temper flare, but she pushed the frustration aside, remembering what her father had told her.

  “Stay on his good side, Harper. His father may be only a minor imperial Knight, but his family has connections to nobility, and we need their influence if we want to achieve our ends.”

  So she let the comment go, choosing instead to opt for her usual neutrality.

  “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “Maybe he saw something we didn’t. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Down below, the line had come to a halt as the Guild Administrators recovered their surprise. A few people had stepped out of line to get a better look at the holdup, one of which now had his arms folded across his chest.

  “Can we hurry this up?” he asked. “Some of us have bounties to turn in.”

  The boy, Dean, if she remembered correctly, seemed unbothered by this reaction. Instead he gestured to the giant white pelt before him and smiled.

  “I’m also here to collect a bounty. “I was told that all dungeon, contract, and evolved beast bounties should be turned in at a Guild hall’s main desk. Am I in the right place?”

  The question was asked pleasantly, but there was an edge to his voice – a hardness that betrayed that he knew the answer. The Guild Administrator flushed, seeming to realize how her reaction must look.

  “Of course. My apologies for any confusion on our end. We can of course accept and process your beast bounty but your party would have to be present before payment can be dealt.”

  She smiled expectantly at him but Dean only looked mildly confused.

  “Party?” he asked, hesitantly. “I’m not associated with any parties.. at least not yet. So far it’s just me.”

  There were several gasps among the watching crowd, and the young hunter who had complained earlier threw up his hands, muttering a string of curses that Harper was glad she couldn’t make out. Maxim curled his lip, pushing off the rail.

  “It’s obvious he’s lying. No classless could pull off a feat like that relatively unharmed. He probably got lucky and found a dead dire wolf on the border of zone 1 and harvested its day-old corpse.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  The smooth voice came out of nowhere, and if Harper’s mana sense hadn’t flared, she might have jumped. As it was, she sensed Draken’s powerful presence a moment before he appeared. The Adventurer was a giant, with bronzed skin, slicked back golden hair, and eyes that seemed to burn with power. He was only Bronze Rank, but his aura was as unmistakable as his lineage.

  Maxim had whirled, muscles tensing in reflex as he turned to face Draken. For a moment Harper saw the dislike in his eyes before it bled away, replaced by a false smile.

  “Cousin,” said Maxim, showing too many teeth.

  “I had wondered when you’d return from the wilds. Did the North treat you right?”

  Draken shrugged.

  “There has been increased activity in the mountains, talk of things shifting. The imperial soothsayers claim it could be a sign of the times, but then again, they are always foretelling doom in some way or another. I was surprised you weren’t summoned to answer the call. Surely your father would have wanted his eldest son to represent the family in this matter.”

  Maxim’s jaw ticked, and Harper saw his shoulders tighten even as he fought to mask his irritation.

  “I would have been honored to join the hunt, but I have far too many responsibilities here at home. I could hardly be expected to shirk my duties.”

  “Ahhhhh,” Draken’s eyes glittered as he gazed down at his cousin. The difference in size and power between them was obvious. “Of course, of course. Your… duties. Though I’m not sure visiting brothels and taverns could hardly be considered honest work. Perhaps you ought to take a page out of the newbie's book, cousin. If you want to ascend to Bronze, you’re going to have to get serious. Otherwise, you might find that certain street rats,” he nodded towards Dean, who was now collecting his reward. “Might one day have the ability to surpass you.”

  Harper raised her eyebrows as the tension seemed to rise between them, Maxim glaring at his older cousin, and Draken cool, calm, and amused as always. Finally, the aristocrat shrugged, that same false smile returning to his face. The expression didn’t reach his eyes.

  “You’re right, of course.” He said, turning away from the railing. “Perhaps it is time for me to get serious.”

  Draken only smiled.

  “Good, good. I would expect no less from one of the family. Anyway, I best get going before I shirk on my own training. It’s always good to see you, Harper,” he said, giving her a wink. She rolled her eyes but Draken was already striding away, drawing the attention of several other Adventurers as he went.

  “Arrogant prick,” hissed Maxim under his breath. “He’s been toying with me since I first arrived in Haven. Do you hear the way he speaks to me? Just because he’s from the main branch of the family, he thinks he’s better than everyone else.” The irony wasn’t lost on Harper, but she managed not to say so.

  “I dunno,” she said, taking a swig of water from her hip canteen. “Maybe he has a point. We’ve been more laid back in our training lately, and some of this new talent shows.. promise.” Her eyes lingered on Dean and she couldn’t help but wonder…. But no. That couldn’t be possible. Not really. Shaking her head, she tossed aside her training towel and selected a spear from a rack along the wall.

  “Care for a duel?”

  “Maybe later. There’s something I need to take care of first.” Maxim’s cold smile had returned, and Harper felt her heart sink into her stomach as she followed his gaze.

  “For the Gods' sake, Max, leave it,” she snapped. “He’s hardly worth your trouble. He’s just an unclassed.”

  But Maxim was already striding towards the stairs, his former arrogance returned. Harper clenched the shaft of her spear, stuck between exasperation and curiosity. She knew she shouldn’t get involved. Trying to stop whatever was going on would only backfire on her in the end. At the same time she couldn’t just let it slide… not when she thought she knew what he had in mind.

  “I’m going to regret this,” she muttered under her breath. Then, racking the spear, she followed the aristocrat down into eh depths of the training hall.