Glass thunked onto wood.

  Marie had set the vial down gently, but the sound rolled out with more force than it should have. That in itself confirmed her decision, and she returned the other to the chest for the time being.

  She turned, holding the third of four potions that had been inside, and brought it to the edge of the wards for the group to inspect.

  This time, Odoona was right at the front with the others, though another member of the Watch had taken her observation position further back, [Commander] Amit no longer satisfied with having just one of his people supervising.

  In better light, the contents of the vial seemed to pulse with a dull purple glow, but despite the apparent weight when she’d set it down, it didn’t feel heavy in her hand. It was almost soothing.

  She held it at arms length. Just in case.

  The routine for the appraisal process had become somewhat familiar by now, but with the shock of the ring a few hours before, Marie’s attention didn’t waver.

  Indeed, as the spells and Skills flew, she only grew more intrigued at their findings, focusing on [Chief Librarian] Ununcia’s summary, unsure how the woman was parsing all the information the others were throwing at her. Librarian Skills, probably.

  “Vial’s contents are definitely magical. Highly magical, even with the time it has been in the chest. The glass itself is also spelled - [Arcanavist] Tiluth recognises strengthening elements though not the standard ones used today. No hint of forbidden magics but those used in the potion itself defying classification with current Skills which suggests a mixture of at least three different types. [Merchant] appraisal places significant value on the contents, with the container being notable but not significant in comparison. Initial assessment suggests this may have been of a similar quality to the healing potions analysed previously, which were estimated to have been made by an individual of Mithril-rank. Condition appears better than the healing potions but degradation is almost certain; reappraisal of healing potions may be required, but suggest the new, unknown potion may be Gold-rank standard even after eleven and a half thousand years. Tiluth suggests vial may have a preservation effect - more testing will be done when specialists are available. Comp-”

  The work took longer than Marie would have wanted, but was finished in a fraction of the time she’d have taken to do an investigation on any archeological find back home. Pages of pristine notes, taken down by Lady Kypria’s remote quill, were being shuffled into a stack by one of the [Assistant Librarians] in a brief break when Gil turned to her, unable to hide his excitement.

  “Obviously we need to reach out to a skilled [Alchemist] to evaluate what it truly is, but this could be a rather lucrative find, Miss Marie. I’d love to help you if you choose to sell it. A high-level potion like this could go for thousands to the right buyer - either someone wanting to work out how it was made, or an adventurer who wants its effects. Of course, the nobility and military commanders or perhaps even a [Mage] may also be interested; not many others would have the resources or need for a one-use purchase. I can promise you that, even taking a cut, my Skills and connections will give you a better payout in the end. Much more than the Adventurer’s Guild or untrained seller would offer you.”

  She smiled.

  “There’s no [Merchant] I would trust more than you, Master Gil.”

  “Because you don’t know any others yet, but don’t worry, you won’t regret it.”

  “Do I just leave it all up to you? I would only ask that, as before, Osric Bristleback gets to sit in on any alchemy work so he might learn. It would benefit us all in the long run, I think.”

  “Not an issue, Marie. I’ve got just the person in mind, if I can persuade them to make the trip.”

  The conversation devolved into rampant speculation on what the potion might do, before they exhausted all the wildest options and their eyes turned to the chest once more.

  “The final vial?” Marie asked. “There may be some overlap or new insights…”

  With the rest of the small crew voicing their agreement, they each returned to their positions, and as the {Arcane Ward} snapped back into existence, Marie withdrew the last potion.

  This one did feel heavier, though when she set it down to check there was no echoing thud.

  In front of Benedict, Linea and Intressa, Odoona looking over their shoulders, the contents appeared a deep burgundy, and whilst it definitely wasn’t a normal liquid, it wasn’t clearly magical like the previous one had been.

  Lady Kypria began to narrate the results of their work to her quill, Gil chiming in with insights he could pick up from the sideline, but for once Marie tuned them out. There was something about the potion that was bugging her, but she couldn’t tell what. She didn’t look up until something Linea said grabbed her attention.

  “This one is pulsing too.”

  All eyes turned to the [Assistant Librarian]-[Archivist], and amidst the sceptical gazes she insisted.

  “No, really. Just watch it for a minute. It’s subtle but it’s there. I only noticed when it started to slow.”

  They all peered closer at the vial, and after long, silent moments, Ununcia confirmed it.

  “Very subtle. Well caught Linea. [Autonote]. The liquid inside appears to ripple ever so slightly every second or so. The effect is most visible near the base where the quality of the light changes.”

  “It’s speeding up.” Odoona murmured.

  Marie’s heart began to race, as she felt the faintest of vibrations come from the glass container.

  “What should I do?”

  “It’s not triggering any warnings for me.” Odoona said. “Anyone feel anything different?”

  It wasn’t setting off Marie’s [Dangersense] and she said as much, a sense of relief replacing the rising tension.

  “Everyone just keep calm.” Lady Kypria said, voice level. “We will simply record what happens and assess it afterwards. Intressa said it wasn’t a magical potion; it may be a naturally occurring material. It could be reacting to the environment - the heat of Marie’s hand for instance.”

  “Not the heat of her hand.” The voice came from the back of the room; the other member of the Watch had taken a step forward. A young man with slicked-back blonde hair nodded down towards the vial. “It’s in time with her pulse.”

  That assertion demanded everyone’s attention, and as her heart rate picked back up, the liquid in the vial trembled noticeably faster. Marie tried to calm herself, and it slowed.

  “That’s one creepy vial.” Odoona said. “Well noticed, Hansley. I still don’t get a sense of danger from it though. Another one for the [Alchemist]’s attention I dare say. Keep it secured though, and don’t open it until then.”

  “And I can’t get a read on the value of this one.” Gil frowned. “I’m sure my contact will have an idea if they see it though.”

  Notes were taken and agreements made, and Marie looked to the chest again until she remembered something.

  “Wait, what time is it?”

  “Almost eight.” Benedict said.

  “Merde. We will have to continue tomorrow. After the… well, maybe we wait until the day after.” She looked to Gil and Lady Kypria. “I will see you in the morning.”

  Mumbled assent and somber nods replaced the previous studious interest as she closed the lid and rushed out of the room.

  Ten minutes later she strode into the Grinning Broccsus and looked around.

  The mood here was, if anything, more dejected.

  She spotted the auburn hair she was seeking and hurried over to a spare seat at the table. It was the only one - the others were full of other adventurers in quiet conversation.

  “About time.” Fila Entoll blew a stray hair out of her face and pushed a glass of now-warm wine over to rest in front of Marie. There was a hoarseness to her voice that Marie hadn’t heard before.

  “My apologies. It has been a wild day. I almost forgot. Is the hospital running you ragged?”

  The noble daughter waved a weary hand.

  “The worst is over. I’ll stay helping out with the shifts but only for a few hours a day now, and we’ll probably be winding down in a few days.”

  Marie shifted in the wooden chair, the creak awkwardly loud amongst the silence, taking in the other patrons. She knew many of them from the Guild, though a couple of locals at the bar were unfamiliar.

  Eldun and Fodrin were at the table, engaged in quiet discussion - the only ones of Evermore’s not in a hospital or on a cold slab.

  Marie leaned in to her noble friend to whisper.

  “How is she?”

  Fila’s head bobbed, and her hand wavered side to side, replying in kind.

  “Awake. Despondent.”

  “Physically?”

  Fila grimaced.

  “Better than you might think, but it will be a long recovery. I’ll try and help where I can of course, but I'm no [Healer].”

  Marie nodded and sipped at her wine.

  No one in this town is, really. Shen is the closest, and that is a stretch of his abilities at best. Thror will struggle to put together his balanced group.

  But she couldn't fault his logic after seeing what danger this world could hold.

  Everything about that event had been awful.

  She ordered a bite to eat but didn’t taste it as she sat with a handful of the other survivors. Talk was minimal; most were content to sit and drink in silence and Marie was no exception that night.

  Fila made an effort to ask about how the investigation into the chest had gone, but beyond broad strokes, Marie felt it was too gauche to speak about it with what was soon to come, and promised instead to show her when she’d finished her work with the medics.

  Casual conversation didn’t feel appropriate, and they simply sat, keeping each other company, until they both decided to leave. Fila glanced back at the tavern and turned to Marie.

  “Meet you by the gate in the morning? I don’t want to get there too early, or by myself.”

  Marie nodded, and watched as she walked off towards the richer side of town.

  One of the good ones. Her and Lady Kypria.

  She walked into the guild and into her office, brain on other matters, and removed the cloth from the pile of bones in the corner, but as she stared at them, and despite her earlier promise to herself, she couldn’t face an attempt in the moment. Instead she covered them back up, and for the first time since the day she’d been released from prison, she went to her tent, still concealed in a thicket outside the town walls, and just slept.

  —

  Dawn came about all too soon, and after an insufficient rest.

  At least her dreams had been mercifully mundane.

  The morning was warm - even sweaty in the tent - which seemed inappropriate.

  It also seemed wrong to head to the public baths, a place of luxury, on such a day, but going without washing would be even more uncouth.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  She paid for the cheapest bath she could, though still private, and washed with cold water.

  It wasn’t a day for relaxing.

  Fila met her outside the gate, and they walked together in silence a few hundred yards round the outside of the walls, until a small graveyard came into view.

  There were already a score of people there. Most of them were adventurers, and most of them wore their normal adventuring gear, which Marie was thankful for; she couldn't really afford a new outfit all in black just for one day.

  There were no signs or chairs or anything to suggest where people would be for the funeral, so she followed Fila’s lead and positioned herself near the gate, greeting the few individuals she knew well enough with a nod or a quiet word.

  She marked Lady Unincia and Gil’s arrival with a nod of recognition, saying nothing. They'd have plenty of time to speak later.

  The mood rose as the stream of attendees increased, until half a hundred people were milling around, catching up and swapping their latest Skills and levels and how their injuries had been healing or what their husbands and wives had said to them in the days after the battle. It was almost relaxed - old friends getting together to catch up.

  That mood evaporated the moment the first bodies began to be brought in.

  As the wagons bearing the deceased trundled into view, flowers draped over the sides, Marie found herself bursting into quiet tears, with memories of the dreadful night coming crashing back alongside the realisation that she was never going to see those that had fallen again.

  Kalminash, Quartz, Chuffa. Dap. Dap most of all. And even before then, Sprig. She didn't know what the allagi did with their dead. No one had told her of a funeral for the young [Trapper] and the ones that had fallen against the Southern [Soldiers] weren't here today.

  Some of this is my fault.

  If she hadn't raised the alarm - begun the response to the threat…

  …but then Sirrochon’s Spellswords and Evermore’s Flame would have been wiped out, and who knew what the enemy army would have done after.

  She'd told herself that every day since, whenever the guilt crept up on her, but even though she knew she was right, it didn't assuage her sense of responsibility entirely.

  Halster led the first of three carts up to the gates and a handful of adventurers stepped forwards to help remove the linen-wrapped dead. They carried them into the cemetery where Marie realised [Magistrate] Quintal was already waiting, along with a pair of allagi holding shovels.

  A few more stepped up to help with the second cart. Marie had recommended the three [Hauler] brothers, and wondered if the adventurers realised all the manual labour for the event was being undertaken by allagi. Though the much-maligned group had dealt with their own dead in their own way and had no cause to be here beyond simple employment, they performed their role in the ceremony with the solemnity it deserved.

  The guild was technically paying for the funerals of the deceased, but with its financial issues it was relying entirely on the local businesses Marie had previously brokered deals with to offer discounted or free services, and donations from a few key individuals.

  Though she'd helped with organising the logistics, Marie still had no idea what local funeral customs entailed, and she was torn between following the bodies being carried to the gravesides, and waiting for the friends she was expecting.

  She didn't have to wait long, and as a small part of her brain took notes on everything that was happening she saw a familiar group come into view from around the walls. Or rather, she saw one familiar shape first, followed by five smaller ones.

  Brunalda walked at a slow and faltering pace, leaning on a walking stick that was more of a small tree.

  Even two days out from a coma and more drawn than any of her teammates, her giant stride kept the goliath on a level with what was left of her friends.

  Marie and Fila weren't the only ones that bowed their heads in respect as the devastated teams approached, but the two of them were the only ones that Sirrochon and Eldun reacted to as they bore their fallen comrades from the carts, Sirrochon nodding as his attempt at composure slipped for a second, Eldun raising a fist to his chest.

  They'd both given their heartfelt thanks for her role in saving their lives, and were insistent that she not pay for anything whenever they met in the Grinning Broccsus.

  There were no grins now though as Sirrochon and Leam took the shroud that Marie knew contained the body of Dappled Shadow, with Eldun and Fodrin bearing Chuffa’s corpse.

  Rina was at the back of the group, her skin a ghostly white, scars still healing, and Marie was about to offer herself and Fila to carry the final, tiny bundle before a looming shadow cut her off.

  Brunalda leaned her cane against the side of the cart and reached down to pick up the body of Quartz.

  At full strength, the goliath could have carried the quarterling one-handed. Now, she cradled the shroud in both palms, and began to take hesitant steps forward, limping towards the open graves on the far side of the cemetery.

  Once again Marie was about to say something, but this time Rina leaned in, voice little more than a whisper.

  “She insisted she come, and she insisted she take him alone.”

  The three women were about to follow when the last people appeared from around the curve of the town wall.

  [Guildmaster] Thror and Chiritta might have been expected to be amongst the first to arrive, but the person between them needed help to make the walk, though not from any injury.

  Embris hadn't been around much in the guild since that fateful night. Marie had seen her once, maybe twice in the main hall, and both times were when another adventurer had brought her in, passed out, to sleep in one of the chairs by the fire.

  In fact, Marie had seen the [Fireblade Spearwoman] more often in the Grinning Broccsus, or heading into one of the other inns in the centre of Wayfarrow.

  The fiery genasi had barely spoken since Aelind?’s death.

  In the aftermath of the battle she'd cradled the body of her elf [Adventurer] partner for a full day until she'd passed out, and even then the genasi had had the elf’s corpse too tight for anyone to remove it from her grasp.

  Aelind? wasn't being buried today either. The morning that most people had returned to Wayfarrow, Embris had embraced her friend for one last time and ignited her body, cremating it in an inferno that had left the hillside scoured clean for a dozen yards around.

  They'd collected the ashes in an urn, and Embris hadn't stopped cradling it since.

  Waiting for the inconsolable genasi to be led in, Marie, Fila and Rina brought up the rear.

  It was a meagre congregation that gathered round the graves and watched the pallbearers gently lower the bodies to the ground, compared to the number that might be said to owe them their lives, but that was by design. The funeral had been restricted to close friends and family so that half the town didn't come to look at who had sacrificed themselves to keep Wayfarrow safe.

  In all honesty, Marie didn't hear much of what [Magistrate] Quintal said. His rich baritone drifted out over the tombstones and grass but she couldn't take her eyes off the white shrouds - the odd patch of pink-red not entirely hidden by fresh cloth. Even when the adventurers lowered them into the graves she stayed staring at the holes in the ground.

  ?a pourrait être moi.

  When the bodies had been interred, the mourners approached the graves and had a moment to say their own goodbyes.

  Marie mumbled a few words, but afterwards she couldn't have said what had passed her lips.

  She was numb.

  It wasn't until the assembled crowd began to disperse, and she found herself outside the gates to the graveyard, that she began to register what was going on once more. Even then it took a second to register that someone was talking to her.

  “Are you coming back to the guild, or are you heading straight to the library?”

  Marie blinked and pushed her glasses up her nose as she regarded the squirrel-faced beastkin staring up at her.

  “I will go to the guild. I think it will be good to remember them with the others.”

  The [Itinerant Monk] nodded.

  “Good. I hope you've got some of those hangover cures ready to go; you'll make a pocketful of gold off them in the morning.”

  The remainder of Sirrochon's Spellswords and Evermore's Flame joined them, Fila singing a soft and haunting tune for the lost, letting her [Soothing Song] wash over them all, especially Brunalda.

  Back in the guild, the undercurrent of grief was starting to ebb as the funeral crowd was joined by more adventurers and a steady flow of well-wishers coming to thank them for their sacrifice and bravery.

  As soon as Marie stepped through the door Dusty Brow was in her face, a glass of wine in each hand and one held in her tail.

  “Hey Specs, take this.” She held out one glass and her tail offered the other to Chiritta. “You too Chompy. This is top-shelf stuff! Apparently I have you to thank for that Moneybags?”

  Behind Marie and the monk, hovering in the entryway, Fila flushed.

  “I may have brought a few bottles from father's cellar. It's the least I could do. I know I wasn't in the main battle that night…”

  “Nonsense.” Chiritta said, snatching the glass Dusty offered and using her own tail to pull the noble daughter into the guild fully. “You got us there in double time, and you stayed with Brun. I doubt she’d have made it without you. Everyone has their own role to play, whether it's in a group or a dungeon or war. You did your part for sure.”

  Still blushing, the young woman allowed herself to be led into the hall and drifted over towards her current team, though whether the Spellswords were going to continue was a question Marie wasn't sure of the answer to. Not when they'd just buried half their team, although Sirrochon would probably do anything to get into the dungeon and hunt down the last of the [Soldiers] that had killed Dap and Quartz, if they still survived.

  The last of the teams entered and the vibrant sunshine cut off for a moment as Brinalda passed through the entrance. There was no applause - no cheering - but heads turn and nods of respect came from every person they passed.

  Everyone besides Dusty perhaps, who nattered on as they moved towards the centre of the room.

  “I would have come to the funeral but of course Wilful had to go and drop a vase on her brother’s head. Ruined the flower display, not to mention blood and pollen all over the good rug. Honestly, I told Gordan to take them both to them to the infirmary place but he said they were all busy and I was like, duh, you idiot Dusty, because I knew they had all the people who aren’t fixed up yet, like Wingless, so of course then we had to find the sewing kit and it wasn’t in the cupboard that I normally put it in-”

  The tabaxi woman would have continued for hours if Chiritta hadn’t bonked her on the head, and in the sudden silence Marie looked around to see the rest of the guild was staring expectantly at Thror.

  Even Embris, deposited in a chair with a wine glass already half-empty in her hand, gazed listlessly in his direction as he raised his cup.

  “A toast to you, friends, from Wayfarrow or beyond. The path of an adventurer is one beset with danger, and caution and care are key skills that we all must learn as we test the waters of opportunity for treasures that may lie hidden in its depths. Some may think those who pursue such a life brave, and it certainly helps, but most of the time we evaluate and plan for a risk we can take, or roll with the changing tides as they come. The truth is though - that’s not real bravery any more than a [Gambler] running the best odds and stepping up to roll the dice with all his coin on the line. True bravery comes when you see the odds are bad and you still roll the dice, and when it’s not your coin on the line, but your life. And that’s what many here today did. When Wayfarrow called, you answered. Knowing what it could cost, you made the choice to stand up to the threat and save not only your friends, but the innocent folk of this town.”

  The tabaxi heaved a solemn sigh.

  “Some paid that price. It cost sixteen their lives - human, beastkin, quarterling, allagi…elf. Others are still recovering, though I am heartened to see one more back on her feet this day.” He raised his glass to Brunalda, who wavered with the support of her cane and Fodrin’s shoulder to give the slightest bow in return, moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes as Thror continued. “It is often the life of an adventurer to see great periods of quiet and boredom, interspersed with mind-numbing terror and deadly combat, all in the name of fame and fortune. It is my great hope that this recent loss is the worst that you will see for many a year, and it is my great regret that as of yet there is no great fortune to follow, but rest assured that I and the Guild will do our best to correct that, and until then, your fame will be enshrined in the heart and memories and lives of those you protected in Wayfarrow.”

  He raised his cup.

  “To you all, the injured and the fallen and the survivors. Levels and Loot.”

  “Levels and Loot.”

  A chorus of voices came back, followed by every man and woman present drinking deep, and then there were cheers, both vocal and through clinking glasses, and then Greeleena and Wilhelmina and Rudi were rushing round with bottles of wine and kegs of ale and casks of cider.

  Conversations resumed as the adventurers began to tell stories of those they had buried, and after a couple, when Brunalda had managed to stumble her way through recounting her first meeting with Quartz, and Marie felt as though her heart might break, she excused herself, slipped into her office and cried.

  A few minutes later, dabbing her eyes clear, she straightened her jacket and went back out to rejoin the crowd. The mass of people had grown by a dozen or more and the drinks were flowing freely as the survivors forced themselves to remember the good times they’d had with lost friends - Kalminash trying to fight off a giant spider that had surprised him mid-poop, holding his axe in one hand and his trousers up in the other; Hanen claiming after an entire bottle of whiskey that he could leap the Grinning Broccsus in one bound and having to pay for the renovation of an upstairs bedroom. Dozens of memories kept those they had lost alive in their minds a little longer, and gave the scars of their passing more time to heal.

  She was bracing herself to return to her circle of friends when she found herself standing next to Thror, and nudged him in the waist.

  “Good speech.”

  “Thanks, I got Ununcia to help me with it earlier.”

  Marie frowned.

  “When? When did you even have time?”

  The tabaxi [Guildmaster] looked down at her, uncomprehending.

  “About a minute before I gave it. [Book Lookup: Great Speeches of Varethis], [Instant Summarisation], [Turn a Phrase].”

  Marie shook her head, exasperated.

  Librarians get the best Skills.

  Her jealous musings were interrupted when Thror continued.

  “Speeches aren’t over yet though.”

  She craned her neck back to meet his eye, but before she could ask about it the sound of metal on glass rang out.

  The universal signal for speech. Even in another world. Is that odd?

  She recognised the voice of Eldun over the crowd.

  “People of Wayfarrow. On behalf of Evermore’s Flame, I would like to thank you all. Without the intervention of those who came, I wouldn’t be standing here, and nor would Fodrin or Brunalda. I owe so much to my teammates, both living and dead, but more to you all. Evermore’s owes you all, and I hope we can repay you someday. Thank you.”

  He bowed to the crowd, but turned to Sirrochon as he finished, and the [Verseblade], who now had a twinge of grey in his hair, stepped forwards as Eldun ceded the floor to him.

  The normally garrulous man had been quiet and withdrawn for days. He was putting on a show now, as he tried for a smile and spread his arms to encompass the crowd, but Marie could still see the pain inside.

  “Fellow adventurers, champions of Wayfarrow. I echo the sentiments of my friend Eldun Frostvale. There is no doubt in my mind that the Spellswords and Evermore’s would all have perished on one of those forgotten hills had you not come to our aid, and though I buried half of my team today,” his voice cracked and fire ignited his words, “and though I will not be satisfied until those responsible lie dead by my blade,” Eldun’s hand fell on his shoulder and he visibly reined himself in, “...I would like to acknowledge your courage and sacrifice, but I would like to thank one person above all. Where is Marie?”

  She felt her muscles freezing, locking in place as those nearest to her turned to stare, and then a large paw on her back pushed her forward and she stumbled into the circle that had formed in front of Sirrochon.

  The [Verseblade] raised a glass to her.

  “The first day we met you, you pulled an allagi [Hunter] out of a snapjaw mid-bite. Weeks later you discover a goblin tribe sitting on Wayfarrow’s doorstep and bought time for the Bronze-ranks with you to retreat despite being Bronze-ranked yourself. Mere days after that, having... stood up for your friends, and being thrown in a cell for your efforts, you win your freedom and raise the alarm of the biggest danger Wayfarrow has faced in decades, if not longer. Without the others in this guild and in the ground, I would not be standing here today, but without your warning and actions, perhaps none of us would be here at all. I don’t know what you’ll do next, but if I can even begin to repay my debt to you, you need only say the word and I will be there. To Marie.”

  Applause broke out around the room and Marie almost dug her own grave to hide in right then and there.

  She was the first, but she wasn’t the last to be singled out as other adventurers toasted the individuals - present or absent - that had intervened on the sweltering night of the battle, to deflect a sword, or shield from arrows, or pull someone up from where they lay in the blood-soaked mud.

  As the wine and ale flowed, so did the speeches, and drop by drop some of the sorrow began to leech away. Not for all, and nowhere near entirely, but enough to start the slow process of truly healing.

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