The following day, Horn woke to the sounds of sawing and hammering. His dwarves were already at work. Raising, he saw everyone busying around, including the newcomers. He found the nearest improvised table made out of a few crates and got himself something to eat. As he was eating, Goran joined him.

“Chieftain, we should be ready in an hour or so.”

“Good, did our scouts return?” He asked,

“Yes, we had messenger coming in the morning. The area is clear. He even brought in a deer’s carcass. However, after dropping in, he quickly returned back – Ingrid’s orders, he claimed.” Goran replied,

“Huh, fine. We’ll head out soon, but if another scout returns, tell him to pass the message that I want to talk with her.”

“Of course, it will be done.”

“And Goran, one question. What do you think about pledges? I’ve asked our scholar for one, and she gave it willingly. Would the rest of the clan do the same?”

The warrior stopped, frowning. It took a moment before he replied, “I don’t think so, Chieftain. The pledge is something quite big. Once given, you cannot take it back unless you’re released from it. I’ll give it gladly, but unless someone is completely sure to follow you, they won’t. Forcing the issue might have consequences. Your clansmen are happy with you, but they are not devoted followers.”

“Thank you for honesty. That’s what I thought. Nevertheless, no rest for the wicked. We have work to do.” Horn said, standing.

“Wait, Chieftain. I Goran Steelriver in trust swear to you: To protect your people, land, and home, To never wish you harm. Guide my hammer, use my axe. I stand with you now, and until the end of time, as long as you keep your faith in me, I’ll return the favor. By the gods almighty, so I swear.”

“Are you sure?” Horn said touched. Goran only nodded, so Horn replied, “I accept your oath made in good faith in the same manner it was given. My home is your home; your grievances are my grievances. As long as I live, you’ll be under my protection. Raise!”

Horn extended his hand, helping Goran to get up. Only then did he notice that the light show attracted a lot of attention. Dwarves around them looked intentionally, watching them, judging. Horn clasped arms with his champion, which dispersed some of the underlying hostility he felt just a second ago. That wasn’t good news. The situation was defused by his champion loudly proclaiming, “Hear this, I’ve pledged myself to our Chieftain. He didn’t ask for it. This was my choice, and I’m proud to be his man. He is the dwarf that will make sure that the Lightforge will once again be a name to be reckoned with!”

Nods and some smiles appeared, and the dwarves dispersed, going back to their tasks. Horn saw some of them heading to others and whispering something. Just as he was about to leave to inspect the wagons, Herrak approached, “So Horn, trouble in the paradise?”

“Everything is fine, thanks for worrying,” Horn replied,

An ironic smile appeared on Herrak’s face when he said, “My boys and I are a bit bored. When we’ll we move out?”

“Great. I hope you’ll find something for us to do, or at least a comfortable bed to sleep in.”

“That’s my top priority, already bending backward to make so.” Horn snorted,

Laugh replied as the warrior left.

Horn wasn’t sure why the adventurer was so annoying to him. Maybe it was hate from first sight. His team fulfilled their task in the challenge without a hitch. Sigrid told him as they traveled toward the forest that they saved her from dying in the last minutes of the challenge. He knew that Goran was also supported by them. Still, Herrak’s arrogance was evident. Maybe he resembled Horn too much. Shrugging, Horn resumed his tasks.

---

Three hours later, the caravan finally started rolling through the plains. They had a good few days of the journey ahead of them. Horn wasn’t sure how far away the mountains were, but here he got an estimate from the most surprising side. Sigrid brought the elven ranger to him. The Elf was of different skin color than the necromancers, they had a golden hue to them, and this one was more brownish. Horn identified him as a Wood elf, a very fitting race to his profession. It was a bit of strange conversation, with Horn looking up to see the Elf’s face. At two feet difference in height, it was annoying.

On top of that, they had a communication issue as Horn didn’t know the trade language, and Elf didn’t know dwarvish. Thankfully with Sigrid translating, they reached an understanding. After a while, Horn was given an estimate - around sixty miles to the beacon location.

That wasn’t good. With the caravan, it’d take the better part of the week to arrive there. Any complications would cut the deadline very close, but Horn was determined, as the last evening he finally saw the color of that one mark. It was shining golden, a rare Soul Well. He didn’t know what it did, but so far, the higher rarities were force multipliers, and after the disastrous challenge, he needed every advantage he could get.

As they traveled, Horn asked Sigrid about one thing that was bothering him. His lack of progress in some skills. The scholar of assassins or Assassin of scholars replied, “It is a piece of common knowledge, and I didn’t think you might be missing it. Every skill has ten levels of proficiency. Mastering them all allows you to merge it with another one of the same level, creating a new variant, or you can, of course, keep it as it is. However, to reach masterhood is a long journey. You have to work on each of the three pillars and then combine them together. This can take years of dedicated work.”

“What pillars? Years?” Horn replied, flabbergasted, so far, it was pretty easy to level them up. Did he get some kind of speed buff?

“Oh,” Sigrid replied in a classical Oh honey, voice, “The three pillars are: Practice, knowledge, and application. The first one teaches you to use your skills more efficiently and reliably in all situations. The second one gives you insight into how the ability works, allowing you to perfect it and eliminate useless parts. Finally, the application gives the skill additional effects and builds instincts. When you learn a skill, you get the first level of three in knowledge. You get an understanding of how to use a skill, then I think you’ve leveled application a lot, which developed your skills, however after three levels are achieved that way, it won’t grow anymore. You need to study them, you need to practice them. A blade master isn’t made on a battlefield but during thousands of hours of practice.”

“Huh, that’s like a bucket of cold water. It will take ages. Wait, and leveling classes? What level are you after the challenge?” He asked, despite knowing it wasn’t the most polite question from what he heard once from Goran, but he was curious.

“I’m at eleventh level, or rather the first level of my advanced class. However, you shouldn’t ask for such information. It’s considered impolite. If you asked such a question to someone from nobility, they would be in their right to issue a challenge.” Sigrid replied,

“I know, Goran said something like that, but after fighting so many undead, shouldn’t you be much higher?”

“Ah, now I understand your confusion. Most of the sentient your meet will be around the tenth level. The first class is easy to master, costing very little of the Essence. Each following one increases hundredfold in cost.” She explained.

“What!?”

“This is why choosing between evolution and the second class is such a difficult decision. With the much larger need for Essence, leveling the second class is difficult. The evolved classes have higher bonuses, more skills, and attribute points. This is why despite usually long and difficult quests, many chose to follow them.”

“Well damn, that changes things,” Horn said. He had to change his way of thinking altogether. If leveling after tenth was so hard, then every veteran he lost would be even a higher price to pay. On the other hand, his warriors would be quickly on par with most enemies. Even players wouldn’t be able to quickly out-level them. Every extra attribute point would be worth its weight in gold. Every small bonus from titles, skills would count even more. Speaking of attributes, he remembered the books and the last potion from the puzzle challenge. He found a place on one of the wagons and began reading the Mind book.

---

The day passed peacefully, the caravan made good progress. Rolling over the small hills without roads limited the speed to two or three miles an hour. It made for a very slow journey, but it was just enough. With eight hours a day of travel, they should arrive at their destination within three days. Which would leave the remaining three to claim the Soul Well. Horn just hoped that would be enough.

As they set up camp in the evening, a group of three riders approached. Horn recognized Ingrid riding in at the vanguard. Snouty, the silver fur hog, was traveling with them, without a rider just trotting next to the Thumper. As they began dismounting, Horn walked towards his champion. Ingrid quickly spotted him and approached, she was about to speak, but a silver shadow passed her. With squeals of joy, Snouty tackled Horn and began licking him over the face.

Being hit by several hundred-kilo heavy animal threw Horn to the ground. He grunted with pain as the boar jumped on him. Fighting for a breath, he tried pushing her off. However, she had to think that was a game as she fought against him. Finally, he managed to wriggle from under her, panting heavily. He said, “I’ve missed you too.”

Only then did he notice a new blinking notification.

Snouty, a scarce Warboar wants to bound with you. Agree?

He stood there flabbergasted, raised his sight on Ingrid, who looked as shocked as him. “What’s going on?”

“I would ne… I don’t…” Ingrid stuttered but then shook her head and added, “Pumpkin, it looks like my Snouty has chosen a new master. Just promise me you’ll take good care of her.”

“But, why? How?” Now it was Horn’s turn to stutter. He took a look at Snouty, seeing her eyes focused on him. It was the same look like the one they exchanged in that burning barn. A look of trust. Stopping his blabbering, he took a knee and petted the board behind its ear, saying, “Who am I to say no to a woman?”

He accepted the request.

For a second, nothing happened, but then he felt a distant presence in his mind. It was just behind any conscious thoughts. He instinctively knew where Snouty was and how she was feeling. He didn’t see her stats or anything like that. He poked around for a minute but couldn’t find anything resembling it. Raising, he asked Ingrid, “So what now?”

“Now you’ll finally have someone to watch you back. But remember pumpkin,” Ingrid said, waving her finger, “If you hurt her in any way, I’ll come for you.” Ingrid seemed to grow a foot or two, and her usually calm face reddened. Horn instinctively took a step back.

“I wouldn’t dare,” He quickly assured, “I was more thinking of what does bonding mean?”

“Your pathways are now connected. Where you go, she’ll follow. When you grow, she’ll grow in turn. As with champions and chieftains, the bonded animal will follow even through death. Her soul will return to the Soul Well, and you will be able to resummon her.” She explained.

“That’s wonderful news! Is this the same you did in the tutorial?” He asked,

“Indeed, it takes a lot, especially without the well.”

Horn nodded and went back to patting his mount. Snouty enjoyed the attention, dropping on the ground and presenting her underbelly, just like a dog – a massive, goblin-eating dog.

Ingrid patiently waited. She knew how big of a change bonding was. One stopped being I and began being We. In the beginning, it looked like a minor change, but it grew on a person. Finally, Horn stopped the scratching. He raised and asked simply, “So how are you?”

It stopped Ingrid in her tracks. That wasn’t the question she expected. Recoiling, she smiled and replied, “A bit less fine now, as you’ve stolen my girl. But overall, I’m doing fine, pumpkin.”

“That’s good to hear. I was worried when you didn’t return for the past two days.”

“I had to think.”

“I think we all had to. Do you want to talk about what happened in that barn?”

“No, it still hurts.”

“Sure, what about your new friends?”

“They’re loyal, pumpkin. You don’t have to worry about them.”

Horn somewhat expected such an answer. He was worried, so he asked, “To whom are they loyal?”

Ingrid again recoiled, even taking a step back. In her thought, she never expected him to catch on her phrasing. She cussed internally, then quietly replied, “To me, the head of our order.”

“Dawn Riders? I think that how Sigrid called them, who are they? How are you their head?”

“Pumpkin, it’s a long story. One that isn’t suited for all ears.” She replied, looking around at milling dwarves, “The name still creates a lot of tension.”

“Fine, I’ll wait. But there’s one thing I need to know right now.”

“Yes?”

“Are you still with me? Will you follow my lead?”

A silence fell on them. For Horn, it was like the world had ended. Her hesitation was the answer. He didn’t think it would happen, yet it did. The next words would be the ones deciding their future, but he already knew the outcome.

“It’s complicated.” She sighed, “Pumpkin, you’ve done so much for me. I’ll be eternally grateful. But,” She paused, gathering her thoughts, “But I have an even older responsibility. One with a lot of history and baggage. I want to follow you, but not as a subordinate.”

Two notifications popped up in Horn’s vision, but reading the first made him sit.

Ingrid Sharptong left the Lightforge clan!