By first light the next day, the nine adventurers had already departed Pel Darni through the western gate, turning immediately southwards onto the eastern trade route that ran parallel to the Rift, connecting Pel Darni in the north-east to Pel Mahavir in the south-east of the duchy. Where the days had been mostly sunny and warm during most of their first journey, fall had finally taken over from summer, blanketing the world in bland, grey clouds. Although the sky looked somber, the trees along the road were starting to color in yellows, browns and reds, presenting a beautiful spectacle for the travelers passing by. Sadly, these travelers barely noticed the beauty around them.

The Guild had tried to arrange for passage on a cart going their way, but caravans only left once every few days, and today wasn’t one of them. Edwin didn’t mind. A tense, nervous air hung about the group, and he much preferred walking it off to growing restless on a cart. The first few hours, barely a word was spoken, the group marching in brooding silence. Borm tried to lighten the mood with a joke but gave up when nobody seemed interested. Edwin only noticed how much time had passed when they reached the turnoff towards the army fort. Finally, it was Leodin who broke the silence.

“Doren, I have a question. Maybe you guys can answer it.”

The party leader looked up. “Sure, if we can. What’s up?”

“Master Hector said that Gerrit’s group found signs that the hunting party belonged to a nest. How could he tell?”

Edwin had only been listening with half an ear, but the question jerked him from his musings. Leodin was right. The goblins they’d fought before didn’t have anything that could’ve told him where they came from. They barely had anything at all. Maybe they were part of a nest, too, and they just didn’t notice?

“Ah, good question.” Doren said. “Basically, what you want to find out is if the goblins you see are part of a larger group, right? There are a lot of things that can give you hints, for example the weapons. Feral goblins, that’s the small groups we usually fight, mostly use their claws, sharpened sticks, as well as anything sharp or pointy that they scavenge or take from their victims. If a nest has an intelligent leader, they might figure out how to make better gear. If you see goblins with wooden or hide armor, bows and arrows as well as more complex stone, wood or bone weapons and shields, that would be a strong indication that they’re part of a nest. Similarly, any kind of organization or tactics are highly suspicious. A leader might train his troops to use formations like a shield wall, copying our soldiers. They won’t do it well, but anything aside from a headlong charge should make you take a closer look.”

“Of course, none of these apply if the leader is simply strong, but stupid, like a troll. Another clue is their camp. If they’ve been there for more than a few days, it’s unlikely they’re a hunting party, because those need to return to the nest. The most important thing to look for is the food though. Feral goblins don’t plan ahead. If they catch something, they’ll eat it the same day. If they catch more than they need, they’ll stuff themselves until they can’t fit any more. The only thing that can prevent a group of goblins from immediately devouring the spoils of their hunt is the fear of a strong nest leader. If there is a food stash, that almost always means a nest is nearby.”

“Ah.” Leodin said, nodding slowly. “Makes sense.”

“Of course, I don’t know what tipped them off in the end.” Doren added. “You can ask them when we catch up with them.”

“They’ll be there too?” Bordan asked, surprised. “Master Hector didn’t mention them.”

“Of course.” Doren said. “They have a rough idea how long it’s going to take the Guild to dispatch an extermination force, and how long it will take us to get there. By the time we reach the village where they killed the hunting party, they should be back there, waiting for us. That’s the only place where they know we’ll come.”

“Makes sense.” Bordan echoed Leodin. “Seems like the Guild has a lot of rules and processes that we don’t know about yet.”

“There have to be, and most of them come from many decades of experience.” Doren agreed. “Back in the early days, people didn’t know how to spot a nest, so the first ones did a lot of damage before they could be destroyed. The problem is that while we’re out here, we often don’t have a way to communicate with the Guild and we can’t ask what to do. That’s the reason why a new group usually gets an experienced adventurer as a leader, because he’s seen every possible situation and knows how to act.”

“I didn’t ask for the position.” Bordan said stiffly.

“Oh gods, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!” Doren backpedaled, cringing. “From what I’ve heard you’re doing great! I meant that in general the Guild tries to have someone with experience teach these things to new adventurers. You guys are a special case!” He looked at his companions as if begging them for help.

“Smooth, boss, real smooth!” Borm laughed, throwing an arm over Doren’s shoulder. “He really didn’t mean anything by it, Bordan. We’ve all heard about your situation, and Meren spilled some of the things you had to fight. With just the four of you, fresh out of training, that’s mighty impressive. My first request as a freshy was goblins, and there were six of us and five of them!”

“Sorry.” Bordan sighed. “I guess I’m a little touchier on the subject than I thought. There were some close situations last time, and I feel like I should’ve done better as a leader.”

“Hah!” Doren barked, shaking off Borm and clapping Bordan on the shoulder. “That feeling’s not going to go away anytime soon, believe me. I’ve led this bunch of weirdos for years now, and I still feel like I’m doing it with my hands behind my back and a sack over my eyes sometimes!”

“So do we.” muttered Moss from behind, eliciting chuckles from the other members.

Ignoring them, Doren continued.

“And that’s even after I had a seasoned party leader for a good while before this. She taught me a lot, but most things you can only really learn by doing them. I think you’re actually way ahead of me when it comes to leadership, you just need to catch up on some adventurer stuff and you’re golden. They say the wave will be over soon, and once it is, the regular trainings will restart, and you guys will learn all of those things in no time.”

With all adventurers except those who absolutely couldn’t be spared on assignments, training at the Guild had dropped to the absolute minimum. Before the wave, requests were rare enough that several parties were in the city at all times, and Mennick had told Edwin that training then didn’t just include weapons practice and basic monster knowledge, but also more in-depth lessons given by whatever veterans happened to be in the city, which all adventurers could attend freely. Once again, Edwin realized how bare bones their training had been. They had only been taught what was absolutely necessary for them to survive.

Despite the misunderstanding, or maybe because of it, the conversation had the unintended benefit of raising everyone’s spirits. The rest of the day passed in a much better mood than the first half, with the adventurers chatting and joking. They reached the waystation early, as the nervous energy from before had quickened their steps. Also, the distance between waystations was planned for ox-drawn carts, and it wasn’t horribly difficult to walk faster than an ox.

Both parties crowded around their maps for a while, trying to decide whether to continue or stop for the day. After a bit of back and forth and a hurried plate of food, they decided to continue. The weather was perfect for marching, cool and dry, and none of them were tired yet. The guard who let them out the southern gate gave them a bewildered look, but soon the waystation lay behind them.

The second leg of their journey was quieter again, as Edwin noticed the strength of his companions slowly diminishing. They were all in good physical shape and used to marching, but twelve hours on the road, with packs on their backs, took their toll. The sun set, and still they marched. This close to the city nobody expected danger, but that didn’t mean that they were foolish. They kept watchful eyes on the tree lines, but nothing jumped out at them.

Well into the night, they made it to the second waystation. A baffled night guard opened the gate for them, and they shuffled off to the bunkhouse, thankful to be able to rest their feet.