Interlude: Simon

It had been over a month since he’d started this job. It was supposed to be simple—investigate rumours of a new rare class appearing in Dunhearth, report back to Lord Falcone, and be done.

And at first, everything went smoothly. After a couple of days at the inn to confirm it, the boy was summoned, and for nearly two weeks he heard nothing more. Honestly, he’d assumed the boy was already working in the kitchens. He was an orphan. Offer him a couple of silvers, and you’d have a loyal employee. It wasn’t hard.

That all fell apart when the boy ran. He couldn’t help but think that idea had been entirely fuelled by the people working at the inn.

They were always troublesome—Larry especially so. Ever since he’d returned from the war front, any effort to intimidate or rattle the man was completely wasted.

In the end, he was handed some debt paperwork and told to retrieve the boy. Again, it was supposed to be a simple job. The boy had only been out of the orphanage for a couple of months at most. The debt was over three gold—a ridiculous sum for any cook.

After several weeks of searching nearby villages and learning absolutely nothing, he finally caught a break.

The girl from the inn was planning a trip to Boltron. It wasn’t much to go on, but why would she head there instead of the capital, unless it was to meet up with the boy?

After several days heading in that direction, they reached the village of Greenstone, where rumours surfaced of a cook healing a villager. Finally, he was on the right path.

His journey then took him to the town of Forest’s Edge, where everything began to go wrong. The trail didn’t go cold exactly—but it was clouded by utter nonsense. Villagers spoke of a cook being stalked by a siege-level threat.

One story claimed the cook had fed the beast after it had held an entire caravan hostage.

And that was the tamest of the stories he’d heard. One drunk madman claimed he’d been in the caravan with them—said the cook was controlling the beast, and that the farmers had been used as bait. According to him, they were forced to stay outside and wait for their deaths while the shadow cat hunted them through the night and tormented his dreams for fun.

But digging into the reports, or even bribing Adventurer Guild officials, revealed none of it to be true. There had been no fatalities caused by a shadow cat, and no official documentation filed about any siege-level threat encounter in the past two months. The most serious event on record was a conflict between a Galvonson and Ancient Treants.

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Then, to make matters worse, just as he was preparing to continue his journey towards Boltron, the mountain split in half and a dragon flew overhead. And if the rumours were to be believed, it was now fighting in the forest itself.

Finally, a stroke of good luck—Trevor had returned to Forest’s Edge!

It was perfect.

He recognised the boy immediately, although things had definitely changed. Trevor rode into town on horseback, looking nothing like a cook and everything like an adventurer. He wore fitted armour, had a brazier strapped to his waist, and even carried a fire elemental sitting inside it.

Still, he couldn’t miss this chance to finally finish the damn job.

He followed the boy to the Adventurer’s Guild.

Odd—but it could work. The staff at this particular guild were cheap to bribe, all things considered.

Then he followed the party to a house they seemed to be staying at. And that’s when he finally got his break: the boy and just one party member left and headed to an inn.

This was his shot.