The walk towards Woodhoot was surprisingly pleasant. Without the urgency of required work or the needs of others to consider, I felt a joyful exuberance that carried me. I explored a few swards surrounded by wild blueberry bushes to pick fresh blueberries. I took an afternoon nap on a bed of thick moss. I may have even cast a charm spell on a Forest Beetle and made it dance for me. Just because I had too much dignity to permit myself a romp, didn’t mean that I couldn’t amuse myself by forcing monsters to frolic.

I knew what awaited me at my tower. The burdens of responsibility were once again heavy on my conscience. I also knew it was the height of hubris to believe that I alone would hold the keys to unlock humanity's survival against the Pestilence. Responsibility and hubris or not, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for not making the attempt to try and slow or stop it.

Yet, now that I was alone, I realized I had spent nearly every day of the past two years single-mindedly pursuing that goal. I didn’t stop to enjoy myself. I didn’t allow for a moment of rest. So, when this opportunity presented itself, how could I not feel my load lightened? Two days of travel alone would be a welcome reprieve before I returned to my own agenda.

So, it should come as no surprise that I was not pleased with what I saw when I arrived in Woodhoot. It was early evening, and the sun had set a few hours ago. I had hoped to find a sleeping village with empty inn to welcome me. Instead, I found a bonfire lit, and numerous cavalry resting around it. Wounds, battered armor, and heavy drinking told the tale of a hard-fought battle.

The villagers were out and about, seeing to the needs of the soldiers with fresh cloth for wounds or cooked meals for coin. I didn’t wish to infringe on their opportunity to lighten the soldiers’ purses, so I silently walked by them and made my way to the inn.

Inside, the inn was busier than I had ever seen, filled with rough men with tough looking eyes. The innkeeper Miles and his staff were rushing about the place as if they were bunnies chased by wolves. In the center of all the rambunctious excitement, Baron Llal sat singing a war song while crowded by soldiers. The armor and the way they carried themselves led me to believe the handful of men closest to the noble were the officers within the troop.

“Wizard Fargus!” He yelled midsong, over the busy chatter of the inn, and most of the other conversations died to a low whisper. The baron had green eyes, and a plain face. Not the most inspiring countenance for a noble, yet his wide grin and eagerness to find battle seemed almost a perfect match for the military.

I nodded my head, “Baron Llal, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Indeed, this is a fortuitous encounter! I had feared I would need to travel to your tower to speak with you, yet here you are!” His voice was still loud, despite the others’ conversation giving way to ours.

As the soldiers around him broke away from the group, I noticed that the man was missing an entire arm beneath the shoulder. A recent injury, too, by the blood stains on the tied sleeve. That would no doubt be a severe hardship for the warrior. I hope he didn’t intend to ask me to heal it. I was a wizard, not a priest.

“Come, come. Sit and join me!” he jovially waved his good hand as he motioned with his head to a seat in the rear corner of the tavern. His breastplate looked beaten despite its heavy polish, and the cloak he wore over it showed numerous tears and holes.

I gave him a smile, and followed. When we reached the very end of the long benches and tables, the two soldiers there saluted the baron and departed, standing five feet away as if to keep others from coming too close to us.

“Wizard Fargus, I would ask you a favor,” Baron Llal said plainly.

I’m generally uncomfortable with favors to begin with, as they nearly always seem to benefit others more than me. Glancing at his arm, I saw that it was shortened more towards the elbow than the shoulder.

He must have seen my look, because he waved it about as he spoke, “No, not this. We’re on our way to Eiston, to see a priest there to heal it. Got this from some bald, fat-nosed cur with a metal gauntlet. The pointed fingers on it went right through my shield. Took my ax to my arm before the poison could get me and then took his head.”

He showed me a menacing grin that turned into a grimace, “Though my men pulled me away after. Cost us the battle, it did.”

That surprised me. The gauntlet he was speaking of likely didn’t contain poison at all. The slave-priests of Mirktal used the things to enslave high-level enemies mid-battle. He was lucky he thought it poisoned or he may have been turned against his own men and be marching on Sena even now.

But that didn’t answer what he wanted, so I nodded and spoke, “I see.”

The Baron let out a hearty laugh, before his face turned more serious, “Wizard, I have a little friend, a necromancer that visited you a time or two.”

“Hmmm,” I answered. He must be speaking of Pyl. Pyl had impressed me with his enthusiasm for his craft. Such devotion should be admired, if only a little.

“My locals don’t trust him on account of his class. Without me present, I’m worried they might… or he might… I’m worried the tension might escalate, even if he would be a stalwart defender of my barony.”

I had heard of such things before. Necromancers generally had a bad reputation, as no one likes to consider the bones of their past loved ones being used as tools.

“I implore you to take him in. I could send a messenger on the morrow should you agree.”

I considered the matter. The man would certainly do well under my tutelage. Necromancer was also a third-tier class, and I wasn’t certain what the fourth-tier version of it was. Most records on the subject were more often than not adventurer quests to kill one. It took a certain specific mentality to focus on the subject without slowly growing a willful disregard to the living.

On the other hand, I already had three apprentices to look after. That wasn’t considering the guards and servants. More residents in my tower would mean more time taken up with their matters. I also wasn’t certain how they would react to a mage of that class. I wasn’t even certain how the symbol of Bi would react.

My hesitancy must have been evident in either my manner or the length of time taken to answer, because the Baron interrupted my thoughts.

“There is also something that might interest you,” he said in a whisper.

“Oh?”

“In my lands, there are tales among the locals of a witch. The Witch of the Western Woods, they call her. They claim she’s been around for more than a hundred and fifty years or more,” he said and took a sip of his mead.

That… that was interesting, “Go on.”

“I wasn’t sure if she was a threat to my domain, so I went to see. Planned to strike her down if she was,” He explained his planned murder with a degree of nonchalance. “But I merely saw an old woman skinning a rabbit. Waved at the lady and she waved back.”

That was a mildly disappointing tale. Still, I used illusions to appear older in the eyes of humans. It assuredly caught my interest. I would need to think about that some more.

“And,” the baron began again, “I’ll have one of my men forego their rooms tonight. As you can see, the inn is full, and they have no more beds. A man of your age shouldn’t sleep on the ground.”

That sealed the deal for me. It was more the story of the witch than the offer of the bed that swayed, but I wouldn’t turn down his generosity. I could always make a second tower elsewhere in the bog for the necromancer if he were too much trouble. Or have one of my apprentices do it.

“Very well,” I answered, though I feared I would regret it.

In the morning, I awoke to the noise of a company of soldiers readying themselves for travel. It wasn’t even truly morning, as dawn was still an hour or more away. In the tavern below, they served a thin porridge with chunks of egg mixed in for the soldiers. Baron Llal, myself, and a few officers sat around the fireplace eating a hearty meal of ham and biscuits. The biscuits weren’t anywhere near as well made as Chelsea’s, but tasty all the same.

Baron Llal and his men were involved in their own discussion, an accounting of supplies. I overheard numbers for horse, sword, boots and more. I didn’t interrupt the conversation either, content to eat by myself. Unfortunately, my meal was soon interrupted.

As I was eating, I was approached by the stable boy. The child had the hawkish nose, as well as the brown eyes and hair that were common among the villagers of Woodhoot.

“Master Wizard, milord, lord… um… great one?” the nervous lad hopped from foot to foot without looking up at me.

“Yes?” I asked.

“My name is Fin, and I were wonderin’ if’n you be… um… if…” The kid’s voice trailed off.

I didn’t feel the need to humor the lad, but I wasn’t going to scold him either. I simply waited patiently while nibbling on a biscuit until he gathered his wits.

“Mister Wizard, I wanted to ask if you had need of a stableboy at your tower?” He stilled as he looked at me waiting for an answer.

Had he been older, I would have made him wait longer for my response, “Child, what of your parents?”

“My Pa was taken by a harpy two years back ‘n’ me Ma she took off to Lark fer a new husband, but I hadn’t seen her since,” He said, though tears welled up in his eyes. I suspected they might be forced, but wasn’t certain enough to speak to it.

“Brothers and sisters?”

“Oh, I got plenty o’ ‘em, but they don’t care about me. Too worried ‘bout their own families,” he said, a little less melancholy on the subject.

I glanced around and noticed that the innkeeper Miles wasn’t too far away. Close enough to have heard the conversation. When my eyes met his, he gave me a small nod as if to confirm the truth of the lad’s words.

I sighed. At this rate, I would need to sponsor another orphanage. “Timb, was it?” I began.

“Fin, sir,” He corrected.

I answered, “Fimb, I have two attendants that will travel through here in a few days’ time. If you can get the approval from all your brothers and sisters—and I mean all of them—by that time, then you may travel with them. Can you do that?”

The kid quivered in excitement as he stood there, “Sir, lord, mister—yes I can!” He barely got those words out before he took off running out the door.

“That’s a mighty fine thing ya done there, sir,” Miles said as he approached.

I raised my eyebrows and gave him a look that said I didn’t want to discuss the matter. The man simply nodded once and left me to my breakfast of lukewarm ham.