The red light of the setting sun gleamed through the openings made by large trees that obscured the view from above and below alike. A gentle gust of wind made the trees rustle, blowing leaves in the air like feathers. The humid tang of the wet soil permeated the air, bearing witness to the previous night's rain.

 

It had been a few hours since they’d left the dead treant behind, and the terrain had gone from a grandland to a land accupied by boscage.

 

It will still take a while to rendezvous with others, Malazan thought. Behind him followed the members of Silvar Cavalry, a four-stars adventurer party. They trudged wearily on the moist ground while warily eyeing their surroundings.

 

It seemed like their constant battles had taken quite a toll on them. They had just concluded their fight with the demihumans when one of their party member unknowingly provoked a treant.

 

Considering their worn-out condition, that could really have been a hard-fought battle for them had he not ordered Cloven to intervene. It was not that he had felt empathetic to their plight, but he would have found it troublesome to explain their deaths to others.

 

Though it seemed Zaron had realized something was amiss. But my slip of tongue could also not be ignored, of course.

 

He pointed his finger sneakily at Cloven and cast a third-tier alteration spell, 'Message'. When this spell was cast, the spell-caster could whisper messages and receive replies with little chance of being overheard. "Could you not have held yourself back a wee bit?" He asked.

 

"Why do you mean? Didn't you tell me to eliminate it?" Cloven replied, his tone sounding perplexed.

 

"Indeed. But there was no need to be so flashy. You could have dragged it on for a little longer."

 

"Ooh." Sensing Cloven's wholly unconcerned attitude, Malazan sighed. His plan to maintain a low-key image had been virtually destroyed by the former's lack of common sense.

 

Killing a rank-four individual (because he used a 'little too much' force in his strike), causing a Umber Hulk to piss itself by unleashing a bit of his bloodlust and eliminating a group of demihuman because they blocked his way were just a few of the shenanigans committed by the man in two months.

 

It was no wonder Malazan had to use mind control magic on the Guildmaster to stop him from promoting them to five-star adventurers. Yet, it seemed the man in question himself remained ignorant to his deviltry.

 

Suddenly, Malazan realised something, his walk coming to an abrupt halt. Everyone behind him tensed up, their hands reaching for their weapons.

 

"Is everything alright, Malazan?" Zaron asked with a frown on his face.

 

"Oh, it's nothing. What do you guys say about camping here? Night will soon be upon us, so it's better to choose a place for making a camp," he turned back and smiled.

 

"Alright, I was also thinking the same," Zaron answered in affirmative.

Malazan saw that the group had successfully set up a camp that had a diameter of fifteen metres, a rather large area.

 

Cloven held wooden stakes, which had been handed to him, and struck them into the area around the camp.

 

He hammered the stakes into the ground at four different spots and tied thin, black ropes onto them, forming a square. He then tied a knot on the center of the ropes, pulled it to the front of the tents and attached a large bell.

 

An early warning net, is it?

 

Seeing Cloven work like this, Malazan felt a tad bit proud. It was an emotion similar to when a parent realized that their child had matured, and was learning to cooperate with others.

 

"Here is the firewood you asked for." Malazan tossed a bundle of wooden sticks on to the ground.

 

"Thank your for your hard work."

 

"Don't mention it."

 

Globrom didn’t look at Malazan when he greeted him. It was a bit rude, but Globrom wasn’t idling, he was digging a hole for the stove.

 

The third-rank Spell Caster —Shihle was walking around the area, chanting a spell. It was the warning spell, ‘Alarm’, which would alert everyone whenever anything approached. It couldn’t cover a large area, but it was enough as a precaution.

 

"You sure are impressive, Shihle. I heard from Zaron that you risked your life by buying enough time for him to launch his attack." Malazan pretended to be awed as he arrived beside her.

 

"He really said that?" She simpered, looking pleased with herself. No woman disliked getting complimented, more so if the compliment was coming from a hunky man like Malazan.

 

"Indeed. He also said that Globrom wouldn't be alive without your help," he pressed on, seeing that his praises were getting to her.

 

"Well, I couldn't have done it without boss and everyone's help," Shihle giggled, trying to hide her smugness behind a fake modest smile.

 

So she is weak to compliments, huh. Let's see how far I can take this.

 

“Hey, sorry for butting into your conversation, but the food is ready. Can you help me to gather the other two?” Globrom interrupted from afar.

 

“Miss Shihle, let me do that.”

 

"Oh…okay," Shihle replied with a disappointed expression. It seemed she really hoped to continue their conversation.

 

Malazan walked towards the two men working silently near a tent.

Zaron and Blen were focused on maintaining the weapons they used, applying oil to prevent rust, checking it’s alignment and other things. Zaron's armor had fresh dents and his sword had cracks after clashing with the treant.

 

There was a need to repair these as fast as possible. Without feeling hesitant about breaking their concentration, Malazan said: "Dinner is ready, you two."

 

"Alright, we will be right there." The two  men replied in unison.

 

"Be sure to not be late."

 

Fire crackled and spat sparks of orange as all of them gathered around it. The group dined with blood red sunlight as background.

 

Everyone's bowl was filled seasoned rabbit meat, dried figs and walnuts. This was the dinner tonight.

Malazan stared at the bowl in his hand. He couldn't feel the warmth while wearing his gauntlets, but seeing everyone, including Cloven, digging in without waiting for it to cool, the temperature should be just right.

Well, now, let's see how long you can continue hiding. 

Unknowingly, his had mouth curved into a wolfish smirk.

"Oh, is there something you don't dare to eat?"

Globrom asked while looking at Malazan, who wasn't eating.

"Ah, I was just offering a prayer," he quickly made up an excuse.

"Oyah, so you are a religious person, Mister Malazan? Which god do you believe in?" Blen who had been eating quietly a second ago asked with interest. He was a cleric, after all, so his curiosity was not unfound.

 

"Well, I won't exactly call myself a man of religion. To pray, one does not necessarily has to have faith in any of the thirteen gods. This way, if there ever comes a day when they don't answer your plea, you won't feel lost." He said in a frosty voice.

 

Just like how they didn't answer mine on that day.

 

Sensing the gloomy atmosphere around him, everyone momentarily kept silent. They figured there must be story behind Malazan's response, one which they didn't dare ask.

 

Ugh…I guess I once again let my emotions get the better of me.

 

Perceiving the awkward silence, he felt furious at himself. He had thought after all these years, he was able to control his emotions to a certain extent, alas it didn't seem that way.

 

To change the heavy atmosphere, Malazan said:

“Anyway, you guys were amazing today.”

Waiting for these words, Blen followed up: "Hahaha, but the real hero was Cloven. I feel like we are all amateurs compared to him."

 

"C'mon now, it's me who should get the most credit. Do you know how much courage it takes to resist the urge to scream when a monster like that tries to sever your arms?"

"Yeah, right. It also takes a lot of courage to close your eyes when said monster tries to sever your arms," Shihle criticized.

 

Heartily laughter soon followed Shihle's vicious remark.

 

"Not like you would have reacted any different!"

 

"At least I wouldn't try to boast shamelessly later on!"

 

The duo bickered back and forth, none of them willing to admit defeat. However, this light-hearted atmosphere was suddenly ended by the ruslting sound made by the quivering of bushes. Everyone's ears perked up in alarm.

So you finally can't control yourself?

"Who's goes there?" Zaron shouted as he grabbed his sword.

The movement of the bushes stopped, as if whatver entity was behind it got frightening.

Zaron darted a glance at Malazan before standing up and making his way to the bushes at a gingerly pace. He gripped the hilt of his sword firmly in his hand and then horizontally sliced the tall bushes into half. Soon, a yelp was heard. The light of the crackling fire shimmered on the pale green skin of a bulky body whose jutting jaws and prominent teeth glowed yellow in the weak light of the setting sun. Standing six feet tall, coarse hair covered the whole of his body. Brown disheveled hair hid a deep scar on his pig-like face and also concealed his dark brown eyes. The entity was an half-orc.

Seeing the identity of the interloper, a glint of astonishmeant appeared in Zaron's eyes before hostility instantly replaced it. He was about to rush at the half-orc with his sword when the latter shouted: "W-wait! I, Dench, mean no harm!" Wearing an expression of panic, the half-orc Dench raised his hands up in the air, emphasizing that he was harmless.

 

Yet, this demonstration of surrender wasn't enough to hold back Zaron from leaping forward at the half-orc, his sword aiming for the demihuman's throat. The latter let out a cry of panic, ducking beneath Zaron's arm. Though, Zaron's sword still managed to mark a line of crimson on the bulky demihuman's back. The pain caused him to fall back on his butt, gasping for air.

"Hey--listen to me first, will ya? I said I bear no hostility! Are all you humans this barbaric?!" Stunned and disoriented, the demihuman scrambled to regain his feet.

"Your kind does not deserve my mercy, regardless of the fact that you have a bit of human blood running through your veins," Zaron coldly said, preparing for another bout of attack.

"There's no harm listening to what he has to say, Zaron, no?" Malazan walked over, his voicing containing traces of amusement.

"Yeah! This good-looking human brother here is correct! Hear me out first, why don't ya?!" Dench hurriedly nodded.

 

Deciding to follow Malazan's suggestion, Zaron put his sword back in its sheath.

 

"Now, then, it's about time you started speaking," Malazan said.

 

Suddenly, a growl sounded out in the air. Although not easily discernable, it seemed that Dench's green face promptly turned red.

 

"H-how about letting me eat something first?" An embarrassed voice was heard.

"….so you fled all the way from the northern frontier?"

 

"Yeah, those guys didn't leave me with a choice, I tell ya! Every day I had to become the target of their disdain and repulsion just because I wasn't strong enough," the half-orc said as gulped down his bowl of rabbit meat.

The members of Silvar Cavalry looked at each other, pondering over the story told by Dench.

According to the demihuman, he hailed from a far off orc tribe in the northern frontier, which separated the Kingdom of Cierth from the Linburn Plains. An half-orc was a being given birth through a rare union between an orc and human. They were typically born in wild frontiers where human and orc tribes came into contact, so there was no suspicion regarding his background.

But what raised their eyebrows was his reason for being here. Half-orcs, not being of pure lineage, were not easily welcomed by their orc brethren. Orcs value strength above all, so one has to demonstrate their strength to gain their acceptance. Half-orcs could be separated into two types: some half-orcs rise to become proud chiefs of orc tribes, their human blood giving them an edge over their full-blooded orc rivals while others, unable to fully utilize their potential, are labeled as outcast. And according to Dench, he fell into the second category. Hence, to escape from his tribe's torture, he fled all the way here.

"Then, why were you hiding from us?" Globrom asked.

"Uh-h, I didn't know how to approach ya guys. However, I couldn't control myself when I smelled the aroma of food. Only Lord Gruumsh knows how long I had been walking aimlessly with only hunger as my companion!" He licked his fingers as if they were the most delicious things in the world.

 

"So, how should we deal with him?" Zaron ignored the demihuman, and asked everyone via 'Message'.

 

"Maybe we should just leave him here?"

 

"How about killing him? I mean, who knows what he would do if we leave him behind, so it's better to prevent a future threat."

 

"Although I am also of the same opinion, but I don't like killing those who have no intent to fight," Zaron slowly said.

 

"What do you guys think?" Everyone directed their gaze toward Malazan and Cloven, waiting to hear their opinion.

Cloven kept quiet with a disinterested face, leaving Malazan to decide for both of them.

 

"Well, how about letting him travel with us? We can decide what to do with him when we reach the city," Malazan said with an inscrutable expression on his face.

 

Zaron steadily eyed Malazan, trying to discern his thoughts, to no avail. Disappointed, he continued: "Alright, we shall go with your suggestion, then."

Late at night, unknown to others, a figure silently leapt out from a tent.

 

"Let's see what you are up to." Another figure followed behind in the darkness, his thoughts only known to himself.