Mike is already up having a full view. Nat joins him right after.

  The remaining three of us are almost at the spot.

  A large and pointy wooden structure appears first as it towers over the roofs of smaller buildings forming narrow streets in between them.

  People. There are figures moving in the distance, walking, carrying, building. The smell of charcoal and a lot of noises; voices, tools and animals.

  We stop at the top and look.

  The settlement is in a large open space, surrounded by a lot of grass, bushes and trees. As far as I can see the forest behind diminishes into a grey rocky empty plain, with patches of grass.

  It feels kinda cozy, despite knowing what creatures were roaming in a day or a two walk radius.

  Turning back I finally have a better picture; the bamboo forest, rocky formation with an unfamous ruin with the statue and a vast open forest which fades into bushes and a desert in the distance. Of course there is a burnt patch in it with a circular meadow and a black watch tower where we killed the mage and got the shield.

  As much as I’d like to see the black castle in the desert I struggle as the mist rising from the dark forest covers the view.

  “Mhm?” Mike nods at Harald.

  “Let’s go.” Old man nods and starts walking confidently.

  We are almost at the city entrance and I keep staring at the people as I refuse to believe they are real. It can’t be a normal city full of people like us right?

  Are they mindlessly moving around? Are they simple folks? NPCs, I keep comparing them to the longneck zombies, as their clothes match perfectly. Simple, mostly bland colors, few leather accessories like pouches and belts, but that's it, nothing fancy, no armor, no weapons.

  The tall wooden dark brown triangular building in the middle resembles some sort of a temple. I’m not even surprised, with statues of godlings, mighty creatures, spirit animals, eternal floating flames and god knows what else, this was more than expected.

  The houses are simple, mostly made of wood and dried soil bricks, giving them a beige light color. What catches my sight first are black pendants mounted on the houses and poles around, definitely used for lighting at dusk.

  Noticing Harald having his right arm on his holster, ready to pull the gun if necessary.

  I look around over the ground and surroundings, checking for a place where to put Astrid down if needed.

  Nat, Mike and Harald are walking in confidently. The two of them are looking like warriors already, and myself of course. Fire crackling, blacksmiths hammer pounding on anvil, people chattering, dog barking and a person pushing a wooden cart filled with vegetables and fruit.

  We are walking in like nothing happened, nobody seems to be bothered.

  I can’t help myself but stare.

  I stare in their faces, judging, acting like we are the real people and they’re not.

  My eyes meet with a pair of light blue eyes.

  “Halt!” A harsh grating scrape resonates as a massive wooden chair drags over the stone floor of an outside patio of what I assume is a tavern or an inn.

  A buffed bald man with a medium curly brown beard stands up. Wearing simple top clothing he reveals his armor on the bottom while he stands up, making quite a rumble. Broad shoulders and thick arms are exposed in a simple thin linen shirt, which seems to be an under cloth for armor.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Weathered metal plate armor greaves and boots, an axe dangles from the side of his leather belt.

  No inventory? I assume quickly, yet not only my instinct kicks in.

  My inventory opens with a simple thought and I reach for my sledgehammer.

  Focus kicks right in as I hold Astrid as tightly and firmly with my left arm as I did with both of them.

  Not only does my gauntlet make satisfying clinks while I gasp the handle; Haralds gun makes a distinguishable sound as he removes it from the holster.

  “Roland!”

  The man yells out loud.

  I quickly look at Harald, my eyebrow raised. A confusion in his eyes is the same as in mine.

  Is he calling for one of us, or introducing himself?

  “Roland!”

  He yells again but now with a slight nod to the back. He’s definitely calling for someone.

  A backup? I assume quickly.

  “Briinn?”

  Another strong voice echoes from the distance; now suddenly a hammer pounding ends.

  Someone was working with a hammer and based on the sound that was a blacksmith.

  Well, at least that's how I imagine hammer pounding on and anvil sounds.

  “They’re here!”

  A tall bald muscular man answers while turning his head. A wide smile appears from underneath his stache, revealing his front teeth. A quite funny event for me, as this giant brute’s frowning face morphs into a harmless expression.

  “We are expected or what?” Astrid mutters under her breath.

  “Apparently?” I whisper back to her.

  “They’re here Roland!” The warrior repeats again.

  The rest of the town folks seem to be more than uninterested. Only one that reacts to this is an old grumpy looking burly guy, holding his pint; he sighs and rolls his eyes over the warrior's words.

  I look at Mike and look at Harald and I notice them looking at Astrid. Confused and uncertain of the situation as much as possible. Nat stands there quietly as she barely understands.

  *Cough*

  From behind the tavern a man in a dark purple shirt, wearing a leather apron emerges, he coughs on the way while he slightly jogs. His face and arms are covered with black smudges.

  Another friendly face.

  Long curly oily hair, good physique, slight beard and hairy forearms. This is a blacksmith, I swear to god.

  A blacksmith Roland.

  I raise the side of my mouth as I watch the two figures, my hammer pounds on the ground and I lean over it like over a cane.

  “One, two, three, four.. And a half?” Brinn counts us boldly and counts Astrid as a half.

  “What the..” I whisper, Astrid turns her head towards me, her expression says it all.

  “You said one came alone and fifteen suns later, three of them together.” Brin tells Roland, looking at us now a bit suspicious.

  “Skybornes brats in disguise again!” He yells at Roland and his hand reaches for his axe.

  “Ugh.” My focus activates right away, my bicep swells as I ready my hammer. Mike’s sabre starts to materialize.

  “Back off! We come in no threat!” An old man takes control of the situation while he slowly raises his glock.

  I shake my head in disbelief. These guys have no chance against a gun, it would be a shame if our first real encounter ended up with a massacre.

  I believe Harald will shoot his foot as a warning first.

  “Calm down Brin.” Roland lowers Brin’s axe by pushing his hand down.

  Brinn grunts and frowns at him.

  “Why can’t you believe for once!”

  “Look at the armor! It’s clearly Frans’s. It’s them, and they did it.” Roland the blacksmith explains to Brinn the warrior.

  “Skybornes, fifteen suns? Frans?” I say out aloud.

  Mike keeps shaking his head.

  “Pardon my friend over there, My name is Roland.”

  He takes one step closer, drags his right hand over the piece of hanging rag behind his belt and offers his muscular hand for a handshake.

  The atmosphere calms down right at the moment.

  Harald looks to the side checking back on me.

  He pushes the glock back inside the holster and grabs the offering hand.

  *Powerful handshake*

  “Harald Nilsson.”

  “Roland Thorne” Harald says almost at the same time with a dirty blacksmith.

  “We come in peace.” The old man adds right away.

  “I know who you are and that you will come. Irving prophesied it all.” He says to Harald, while looking at all of us in the periphery.

  His chestnut eyes sparkle as he talks.

  “Oh, for fucks sake. This again..” Brinn spits on the ground and turns away from us. He starts to walk, limping a bit. His war axe and his heavy armor clangs as he walks away.

  “Don’t mind him. Let’s discuss it all with a cup of mead and a warm soup. You must be starving.”

  He adds, suddenly more than welcoming.

  I look down at the girl in my arms, barely holding back my laughter.

  She looks into my eyes and smiles with them.

  “You’ll get your soup,” I whisper.

  She chuckles.

  “Come on, don’t be shy!” the blacksmith calls, waving us inside.

  “This can’t be a trap, right?” I ask Astrid.

  Since she’s so close while I carry her, I feel the urge to discuss everything with her—verbally or not.

  “Suspicious indeed. Let’s keep our eyes peeled,” she suggests.

  The trees crack, followed by a loud rumbling—then a familiar roar.

  “Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhhhh!”

  Something is pounding against the ground. Judging by the sound growing closer, it’s coming for us after all.