The holidays were over and life returned to Faebrook once more, though the grounds were as barren as ever with the increasingly frigid winds that swept across the mountainside, turning water to ice and breathing to pain.

“Four out of five classes together this semester, eh?” Dugan’s cheery voice echoed, his eyes on the sheet in front of him as he rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Lucky you.”

Rowan snorted. “They’re mandatory courses. It would be weirder if we weren’t together. The real question is why you don’t love me enough to take an elective with me. That way we’d actually be in the same classroom together, and not just getting the same assignments at different times.”

Dugan pouted. “That’s because you’re taking Professor Soreth’s class again. I didn’t take the first one, so I couldn’t take this one even if I wanted to.”

Rowan waved his hand. “Details. If you really loved me, you’d be in all five of my classes.”

“Pft.”

Bantering lightly, the two trod onwards, forging a path through the crowded cobblestone streets.

They were in Northall for the day, intent on buying supplies for the semester that was set to begin tomorrow along with several dozen other students. Absent was Droon, who had declined Rowan’s invitation on the basis that he had already purchased the required supplies for his next semester at Faebrook early on in the holidays and thus did not need to join them on their last minute shopping trip.

Without Droon, it was just Rowan and Dugan for the day, and Rowan enjoyed catching up with his friend, finally back from his home up north. As usual, it was Dugan who took the lead as they ventured through Northall, his ineffable personality as cheerful as ever despite the frigid breeze that blew across the town.

Rowan did not know if it was his friend’s northern blood, or just an inherent character trait, but no amount of cold seemed to get Dugan down as he led them forward in their quest for school supplies.

An hour later, the duo found themselves sitting inside a cozy little restaurant off the main square. In front of them sat two steaming plates piled high with meats and roast vegetables. There was no discussion during the meal, both boys sharing an unspoken agreement to savour the food in front of them before engaging in dinnertime banter.

“Ah,” Dugan said appreciatively, pushing his plate away and patting his stomach as he leaned back. “That hit the spot.”

Rowan nodded in agreement. It certainly had. Although it was not quite up to the standard of the Galdurfest supper that still lingered in his memory, it had still been quite the delicious meal, even more so because Dugan had paid for it.

Whipping out the sheet with his courses printed on it, Dugan placed it in front of him, a pensive expression on his face. “We got those, I got that…” he muttered. “Still need to get that, and it wouldn’t hurt to check out there as well…”

From across the table, Rowan craned his neck to peer at the sheet. Despite coming into town later than most, they had gotten most of their shopping done before dinner. Only two stops remained, one for the book he would need for Kanna’s course on Magical Theory, and a shop that had everything they would need for their new mandatory course, Dungeoneering.

As Dugan examined the list, Rowan allowed his thoughts to drift. Unlike last semester, the second semester had four mandatory courses instead of three. Combat, History, and Magic were all still required fare for every first year student, filling up just over half of their timetables between the three of them. For the two remaining courses, every student was allowed to take one elective of their choice.

For Rowan, this had been the source of some apprehension prior to course selection. The semester before, his two electives had been Etiquette and Magical Theory 1. With only one elective this semester, he would have to ditch one of the two courses, and he knew exactly which of the two he would prefer not to take.

Thankfully, Kanna had come to his rescue, deciding upon review that Rowan’s manners were now good enough to not embarrass himself in the presence of nobility and that he should sign up for her own course on Magical Theory.

Although Rowan suspected that his grasp of etiquette was not quite up to the point his mentor wished it was, he had offered no disagreements, eager to drop the boring etiquette course that he had been forced to take for the last several months. Plus, Magical Theory was interesting, and he looked forward to learning more about it from his master.

And so he had bid goodbye to Etiquette. In its place, he and every other Faebrook first year had a new course: Dungeoneering. Just as it sounded, it was a course focused on the exploration and conquering of dungeons. From what he could tell, the course was more than just theory, but the professors remained tight-lipped on the matter, and the older students all seemed to delight in the first years’ anxiety over the matter.

Regardless, given his goal of becoming an outstanding adventurer, it was a course that Rowan was more than happy to take, and the first class could not come soon enough. Unfortunately, the first class was not until the third day of the new semester, which meant there were another four days before he would find out what it was all about.

In the meantime, he and Dugan still had to buy the items required for the course, an assortment of tools and equipment vital for adventurers keen to enter dungeons, which of course Rowan was.

I’ve already got a good portion of this stuff though. Looking at his own list, Rowan smiled in relief. He had spent a fair chunk of gold today and was not eager to part with any more of it.

Luckily, he already owned most of the required equipment due to his work as a porter. Although the groups he joined were more than happy to supply him with spare equipment should he lack anything, there was no substitute for one’s own gear, a fact that Kanna had drilled into him early. Of the entire list of items they would need, he was only missing one: a backup weapon.

“You figure out what you’re going to use for your backup weapon?” Dugan asked, looking across the table with a knowing look.

Had Rowan not known better, he’d have thought he was reading his mind. Instead, he knew it was because they’d spent a good portion of the ride here talking about it.

“I’m leaning towards combat knives or something along those lines,” Rowan replied. “Stick to what I know. Unless I find something that suits me perfectly, I don’t want to pick up anything new. I’ve already got my hands full just learning the sword—I don’t want to add another weapon on top of that.”

“True.” Dugan paused for a second. “Have you considered a more defensive weapon? Pretty sure I overheard one of the third years in my house saying that you can use something like a buckler as a backup weapon. Which is pretty funny when you think about it. A shield as a backup weapon.”

Rowan placed a finger on his cheek as he considered the matter before shaking his head. “No, I’ve got magic for defense. I don’t mind a more defensively oriented weapon, but I do want it to be an actual weapon.”

“Yeah, it would suck to find yourself squaring off against a dungeon boss with only a shield,” Dugan said with a grin.

Rowan smiled humourlessly back. As someone who had actually faced off against dungeon bosses, he had no desire to square off against one, with or without a shield. Not getting hit in the first place was his preferred way to defend against blows, a strategy which a shield was antithetical to.

“Well,” Dugan continued, “we’re headed to the biggest blacksmith in town, so you should be able to find something.”

Rowan nodded. He had asked both Kanna and Egil for help in choosing a backup weapon, but neither had been particularly helpful. Kanna was of the opinion that armaments were useless when compared to the power of the arcane, while Egil had advised him that a true warrior could wield any weapon.

Fortunately, Egil had also then gone on to give him a list of weapons which might suit him, but that list was still much longer than Rowan would have liked. Secretly, he had been hoping that Egil would just glance at him and deduce the weapon that would most suit him, but apparently, real life did not quite work like it did in the heroes’ tales.

As Dugan paid for their meal, Rowan glanced one last time at the items they still needed to get before shoving the list back in his pocket and taking a glance at the grandfather clock on the wall. The last carriage to Faebrook was not set to depart for another hour and a half, which gave them plenty of time to look at weapons, gear, and everything else that the town had to offer. Privately, Rowan hoped that would include apple pies.

The meal paid for, the pair left the restaurant, drawing their scarves up against the wind that blew coldly through the town square. The walls did help to lessen its effect, but even still, Rowan found himself thankful for Dugan’s gift, the gloves keeping his fingers warm even as he clutched his scarf closer to his face.

From the corner of his eye, he thought he spotted a small bird, but it flitted away before he could glance at it any further. Suffering from the cold, Rowan put it out of mind, hurrying to follow Dugan as he led the way towards their first destination—the bookshop and its promise of warmth.

As they passed, Rowan’s gaze was drawn to the shop next door to the bookshop: Magical Fancies, the place where he had bought his ring from. Craning his neck, he peered through the window, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of the strange shopkeep in her dandelion coloured robes.

Rather than spy the lady in question, however, Rowan instead tilted his head. The interior of the shop looked completely different than how he remembered. Gone were the packed tables and cramped shelves, in their place an orderly looking shop full of glass cases and ordered shelves.

Did they renovate? The question burned in Rowan’s mind for a moment, but a particularly fierce gust of wind took away any capacity for thinking as the chill of winter descended into his bones.

Following Dugan, Rowan left the shop behind, eager to get to their final destination and leave the increasingly cold wind outside. Behind him, the shop flickered briefly, a small flare of violet curling around the sign before disappearing once more.