“Our next agenda would be about Wildpost's next step moving forward,” Bran said as he settled back down in his seat and poured himself a cup of tea. The old man really loved his tea. “More specifically, we're discussing our response to the attack against us.”

“Have you already discussed this with the other Village Heads?” I asked.

“We actually already made a decision,” Bran replied. “We would retaliate against Halros for their attack on our village. We'd also like to ask for your assistance in this endeavor as your abilities would increase our chances of success tremendously.”

“What happens if I refuse?” I asked. As much as I wanted to help them, I was already mired with a lot of work. I had that meeting with the Dayadra Matriarch to attend to, the cave had several issues I had to fix like lighting and drainage problems, and I have to think of a way to relocate the goblins so my visitors don't run away screaming when I give them a tour of my place.

“We'll still go through with our plan, of course, but it would be more difficult without your abilities,” Bran said.

“I do want to help you guys with your plan, but I'm completely swamped with work at the moment,” I said.

“There's no need to worry. It's not like we're going to march to Halros first thing tomorrow,” Bran chuckled. “These kinds of operations take tons of preparation. We expect at least a month of preparation would be required for our operation, and that's the earliest.”

“Oh, if it's still a month away, then I'm in,” I said. A month should be enough time for me to handle everything I needed to do. “So how's this plan gonna go?”

“You said that you killed all but one of the gang bosses in Halros, correct?”

“Yeah, though I have no idea who they are or what they look like.”

“Then that means they're probably rushing to claim as much territory as they can while the remnants of the other gangs are in disarray,” Bran said as he nodded his head. “The revolution should slow their operations significantly. News about the events in Halros have already spread a couple of weeks ago, and they all tell of the partisans taking over as the new ruling body. They're known for their motto ‘Down with the oppressors,’ and it just so happens that they include criminals to that motto, which means there's probably a witch hunt going on for every gang member in the city.”

“That works in our favor, right?” Selise asked beside me.

“Yes, although I don't expect the partisans to stay in power for very long,” Bran said. “The entire nobility in the city had been murdered, and the King would not allow such a blatant display of treason to exist within his borders. The only reason the rebels are still in control of the city is that the Edrian army is busy embarrassing themselves in the war against Ocrana.”

“What's the news about the war?” I asked.

“A few days after your return from Halros, the Edrian army had its first major battle against Ocrana. It ended with a monster horde attacking both armies, although Edrian losses were significantly higher.”

“How long do you think the partisans will be able to hold their power?” I asked.

“I expect the King to quell the rebellion during the summer, and it would take quite some time to completely eliminate the partisans,” Bran said. “It would probably take until the beginning of winter before the King fully recaptures Halros.”

“How does all of this affect our plans?”

“We'll have to make our move before the King sends his armies to Halros. Their presence will make moving behind the scenes difficult, and the nature of our plan requires utmost stealth.”

Bran proceeded to explain the plan to us. The main objective was to eliminate all elements related to the Hoods syndicate, which included any remnants of their operations, properties, and most importantly, their people.

The purpose of the operation was, of course, for retaliation, but it also served as a way to give Wildpost more time to ready its defenses. Bran said that the Hoods syndicate was a nationwide organization: even if their presence in Halros was removed, they would still come back. By removing their major foothold in Halros, the Hoods would take time to regroup and reorganize their forces before they could attack Wildpost again if they chose to. But by then, Wildpost would be ready.

“The specifics of the operation are still in the works,” Bran said as he sipped his tea. “It's going to take us a lot of time to finalize the plan, so you can take this time to finish everything that needs to be done, Mr. Marion.”

“Sure. Just keep me updated on your plans so I can also make my preparations accordingly,” I said.

“Speaking of preparations, how goes your preparations for the spring attacks?” Selise asked.

“What spring attacks?” I asked with confusion. Bran and Selise stared at me blankly. “Uh, hello? Is there something I'm missing here?”

“Wow, you're actually serious,” Selise said with a bit of awe in her voice. “You forgot all about it.”

“I would appreciate it if you told me what I'm forgetting instead of staring at me like I'm a fool, you know.”

Selise gave me a cheeky grin.

“What Selise is referring to is the annual arrival of the sea monsters every spring,” Bran said. “Belka has already informed you of this when she first brought you to your home, right? Every spring, when the seas turn warmer, monsters from the depths emerge onto the shores in the east and hunt for food. For Wildpost, it doesn't matter since there are loads of monsters between us and the shores that would act as buffers. Your home, on the other hand, is quite near to the shores. The forest there is thinner as well, which means fewer monsters.”

“Which also means no buffer between me and the sea monsters,” I said with dawning realization. “I will have to deal with all of them by myself?”

Selise patted my back in a consoling gesture. “It's all right, Mr. Marion. With your powers, I'm sure you can easily turn them all into mincemeat!”

Selise's words injected me with a surge of confidence and hope. “Yeah, I'm sure I'll be able to handle them easily. The monsters in the Wild Woods have never bothered me so far.”

“Just be careful of the aberrant monsters,” Bran said. “The sea monsters that usually emerge are just a bit stronger than those in the Wild Woods. The strongest you'll see is probably at C-rank. But there are instances that more powerful species emerge, so I suggest that you do not underestimate their threat.”

“Now that you said it, I'm sure a stronger one will appear now,” I said blankly. The old man just chuckled.

“That should be everything, then,” Bran said as he stood up. “If you have any more questions or concerns, you can just tell them to Selise here and she can tell them to me. I'll be busy for the next couple of weeks so you'll have a hard time finding me.”

“Why me?! I still have plenty of hunter duties to take care of!” Selise complained. “I have no time to be Mr. Marion's glorified secretary!”

“Having a secretary sounds nice,” I commented. Selise glared at me.

“I'm afraid you'll have to do this, Selise,” Bran said. “You've always wanted to be involved in higher-level responsibilities in the village since you came of age, right? Now I'm giving you one.”

“Being Mr. Marion's secretary doesn't sound high-level,” Selise pouted.

“Hey, I'm the only Ascendant around. Being an Ascendant's secretary is as high-level as you could get around these parts. Be grateful,” I said arrogantly.

Selise glanced at Bran with an expression that said ‘see what I mean?’

“I'm sure you'll get to enjoy it eventually,” Bran said with a chuckle.

The meeting ended with Selise looking like she just chewed on a lemon.

●●●

Before I went back home, I decided to pass by the clinic one last time to check up on Belka. I wanted to have a proper conversation with her, not like the one we had this morning. I invited Selise to come along, but the young woman seemed reluctant, so I let her go on her way. She must've been discouraged by how harshly Belka treated her earlier. Hopefully, Belka wouldn't greet me with a fork to the face when I visited this time.

My wish was granted when I entered the clinic without any utensils flying at my face with lethal speed. What did greet me were several visitors who were crowded around Belka's bed and a nondescript young man who I assumed to be the healer standing quietly in a corner of the room.

Thom Bersk was there, the large blacksmith standing quietly and a bit menacingly on one side of the bed. Luth the tanner stood beside him, his wrinkled face set in a scowl, although he did look happy as he bantered with Belka.

On the other side of the bed was Dalton, Belka's second-in-command and acting Head Hunter now that she was bedridden and weakened. He looked quite dashing in his pristine leather armor, although the few dried bloodstains on his boots bothered me.

Standing beside Dalton was a big woman I haven't seen before. She was wider than even Belka, although where Belka was big because of her muscle mass, this woman was nearing severe obesity. She had a strict demeanor, although she exuded a strong sense of auntie-aura.

What is auntie aura? Mr. Marion asked.

I made it up, I replied as I stepped forward and waved my hand in greeting. “Good afternoon everyone. Is it fine for me to join you?”

“I'd rather not,” Belka said, although unlike the venomous way she spoke this morning, this was more casual and friendly. “You look like one of those rich and noble-born assholes with your pretty little coat and pants. I hate those types of people.”

“I'll take my leave, then,” I said as I started moving to the door. “I guess I'll release your bindings tomorrow.”

Belka looked at her prosthetic arm, which was tied throughout the bed's frame in a complex weave that was impossible to unravel by hand short of cutting through the fabric. I was sure she already tried cutting through it because I could see a frayed portion on the fabric, but her weakened state, along with my Authority strengthening the fabric, made it impossible for her to do it.

“On second thought,” Belka said as she gave a big smile, “You can stay however long you like. Here, you can even have my biscuits.”

“I'm gonna pass on the biscuits,” I said with a smile as I joined the group. “So, how're you feeling?”

“She's still in critical condition,” the nondescript man on the corner, whom I assumed was Stodge the healer, butted in. “She might look fine right now, but she still has—”

“He wasn't talking to you, dumdum,” Belka said scathingly, in the same venomous manner that used on me this morning. She then turned to me and her demeanor turned slightly more friendly. “I'm fine. I can eat, drink, piss, and shit by myself without having to rely on someone. That's the best I could ask for after everything I went through. Not like I remembered any of it.”

“Didn't Stodge say you still have trapped shards of bone inside you?” Dalton asked with worry.

“Indeed,” Stodge said as he inserted himself into the conversation again. “She seems fine right now because she's still confined in her bed, but once she starts moving again—”

“How soon can you drink again?” Luth asked, interrupting poor Stodge. “I've still got a few bottles of them good exquisite blood wines I've been saving up. Now would be as good a time as any to celebrate you surviving through all tha' shit.”

“She's not allowed to drink yet—” Stodge interjected, but was interrupted again.

“Let me go get some glasses,” the obese woman said with a large smile.

“No, I'm providing the glasses,” Bersk rumbled. “The last time you provided the cups, you gave us all a bad case of diarrhea because you misplaced your poisons. I'll get the bottles as well. Luth, where'd you keep them?”

The large woman simply chuckled as Bersk trundled out of the room after receiving instructions from Luth. Her eyes fell on me and she approached with a nice, motherly smile. “I don't think we've met yet.”

“No, we have not,” I replied as I bowed. “My name is Mr. Marion, Clothing Master and owner of the Broken Heart Company.”

“Ooh, you got them fancy little titles, eh?” the large woman said with amusement. “Well, I'm not letting you beat me in that regard. I am Gerda, Head Cook and Poisoner of Wildpost.”

“Head Cook and what now?” I asked incredulously.

The large woman just gave a large smile and chuckled. “You can call me Aunt Gerda as everybody does.”

“Uh, sure,” I replied hesitantly. Never have I thought that giving a poisoner a job that involved feeding everyone was a good idea. But then again, she was probably one of Bran's ‘business associates’ back in the day whom he trusts deeply. That was probably why Belka seems to trust them despite her amnesia; she already knew them before she came to Wildpost.

“Visiting hours are about to end…” Stodge said weakly from the side, but a glare from Belka was enough to shut him up. In the end, the young man decided to just leave. Poor guy.

“Now that the uptight twit's finally out of the way, we can talk freely,” Belka said.

“I know you don't remember him, but he can be trusted,” Dalton said. “Everybody in the village can be trusted.”

“Maybe you all can since you know each other pretty well, but I don't,” Belka grumbled. “So, when are you gonna release me from my own fuckin' arm, Maskface?”

I sighed at my new nickname but didn't bother commenting on it. Judging from what I've seen from Belka's behavior so far, she doesn't seem to care about anything else as long as she gets to do what she wants.

I released the tight weave of her prosthetic arm on the bed and returned it to its normal shape, although I compressed it a bit so it was proportionate with Belka's reduced body size. I made sure to utter some random gibberish to pretend I was casting some spell to do it.

“Now that's some impressive magic right there,” Luth muttered from the side.

“Say, can you make me a pair of custom oven mitts?” Gerda said as she watched the scene with mesmerized eyes. “Mine's melted after a wrong batch of poison spilled on it. I'd prefer one that can resist powerful chemicals.”

“I'll, uh, see if I can make some,” I replied noncommittally. I was a bit weirded out by how open Gerda was when speaking about her poisoner profession. I wonder if she simply didn't keep it a secret or if the Chief told them I could be trusted.

“That is fucking creepy,” Belka muttered as she stared at her prosthetic arm with suspicion. “And you can control my arm whenever you felt like it?”

“Yeah, but I can take it off you if you want,” I suggested. “It'd be a bit painful since the fabric is fused with your flesh, but I'm sure you can handle a little pain.”

Belka pondered for a moment before shaking her head. “I'll keep it. I already look like a malnourished hobo, I don't want to look like a cripple on top of that.”

“You're a mage, arentcha?” Luth asked me. “Can't you make it so Belka can move her prosthetic arm?”

“I'm not really that good of a mage since I never formally studied,” I replied. “Almost everything I know is self-taught. I don't even know what school of magic I need to use to do what you're asking. ”

“Bah, you're not as impressive as I thought after all,” Luth scoffed.

Before I could answer back, Bersk came back with the wine and some wooden cups. Everyone cheered, with Belka and Luth cheering the loudest.

“Oi, couldn't you have brought fancy wine glasses instead of these?” Luth asked while gesturing at the wooden cups. “We're drinking blood wine, not some cheap fuckin' ale!”

“You always end up shattering them when you're drunk,” Bersk replied succinctly.

“Who cares about the cups, I want me some wine!” Belka exclaimed. “Gimme some o' that! You too, Maskface. Come here and have yourself a cup.”

I came closer and received a cup of the blood wine from Bersk. Like its namesake, it looked exactly like blood, but the smell was fantastic. I've drank my fair share of wines in my previous life, and none of them smelled as good as this one. To be fair, though, I could only afford the cheapest ones back then.

“To Belka's speedy recovery!” Gerda cheered while raising her cup. We clinked (more like clacked) our cups together and drank the wine in one go. I had to open the lower portion of my mask first before I could drink, but when the wine started flowing into my mouth, my eyes widened at the explosion of flavor. I couldn't describe how it tasted like, but drinking it somehow gave me an impression of quenching my thirst while walking in a desert. It was extremely refreshing, and it seemed to have a low alcohol content since I could barely feel a burning sensation in my throat. This is the best wine I've ever tasted!

“Now that is the good shit!” Belka shouted as she held her cup out at Bersk for another round.

“'Course it is, that is genuine blood wine!” Luth said proudly.

“How'd you even get your hands on that bottle?” Dalton asked as he licked his lips in satisfaction.

“I stole them from a Vaspolian slave caravan a long time ago,” Luth chuckled as he downed his second cup. “Damn that's good!”

“What were you even doing in Vaspolia?” Gerda asked.

“No, I wasn't in Vaspolia that time. The damn slave caravan was skulking about in Edria's remote provinces, quietly looking for victims,” Luth replied. “I found their hideout and reported them for the bounty, but not before stealing myself a few bottles of them precious wines.”

“I thought slaves aren't allowed in Edria?” I asked in bafflement.

“They're not, but not everybody follows the law, now, do they?” Luth asked the room with a knowing grin, and everybody else laughed uproariously. “But of course, there's honor even among thieves. Most only steal money and objects that would harm no soul, but the worst ones steal lives. And the Vaspolian slavers are the worst of them all.”

With my stance on criminals, I felt a bit awkward as everybody else agreed wholeheartedly with Luth's words. I still thought stealing was stealing, but he did have a point that there were varying degrees of crime. A murderer was obviously way worst than someone who stole a kid's candy. But I don't know if I could ever empathize with them.

“How about you, Maskface?” Belka suddenly asked. “What's the worst crime you ever did?”

The room turned silent as everybody waited for my answer with palpable curiosity. Their stares were suddenly piercing, as if they could see through Mr. Marion and into my soul. It was unnerving. “Well, I do my best to keep to the law,” I began, but I elicited no reaction from them. I guess it wouldn't hurt to share a bit about my secrets. “But I won't say I haven't violated it. I'm a mage but I'm not registered with the Mage's Guild.”

“You're a rogue, eh?” Luth said with a grin. “Dang, you never told us you were that bad.”

“Is it worst than being a thief or a murderer?” I asked, a bit offended that he'd thought I was worst than some criminals, and a bit curious why he thought so. At my question, everybody broke out into laughter.

“‘Is it worst than a thief,’ he says!” Belka guffawed before grimacing from her injuries.

“You didn't tell me you were a comedian as well, Mr. Marion,” Gerda laughed while slapping my back.

“I was serious with my question, though,” I said pointedly. Everybody suddenly stopped laughing.

“Really?” Dalton said with disbelief.

“Ah, he did say he was from a small village when he first came here,” Bersk said in his deep voice. “He's probably telling the truth.”

“So you mean to say you haven't encountered a team of Spellbreakers yet?” Luth asked. “No wonder you easily divulged the fact that you're a freakin' rogue. I thought you were just very powerful that you didn't fear a team of Spellbreakers coming after you, but it looks like you just haven't got the fear of them mage killers instilled in ya'.”

“I'm sure Mr. Marion is plenty strong,” Gerda said while patting my back. “Don't worry, dear, your secret's safe with us.”

“To answer your question,” Dalton said, “rogue mages are worst than thieves and murderers not in the moral sense, but because of what you can do. The Kingdom doesn't really care much about mundane criminals, but if mages and augmenters were the ones doing the crime, they get more serious. They'll hunt you down relentlessly until you decide to leave the country's borders and turn into somebody else's problem, or until you're dead and six feet under the ground.”

“Seems unfair that the Kingdom prioritizes a rogue mage who's never harmed an innocent over a rapist or a cold-blooded murderer,” I muttered.

“Don't expect true justice from the Kingdom's judiciary system,” Bersk said as he shook his head. “They don't care about someone's innocence or guilt, only their value. If someone can benefit them, they'll take them in no matter if they're a saint or a devil. If they don't cooperate, then the nobles just kill them.”

“Hear hear!” Luth exclaimed. “If you want true justice, then you take matters into your own fuckin' hands!”

Everybody shouted their agreement and something in my subconscious tingled. Then I realized that their sentiments were practically the same as Bran's when he told me of his past earlier. I didn't think it was a coincidence. They're supposed to be criminals, but they talk of justice? There's something in their story that I'm not seeing here.

The drinking went on, although I didn't participate after the first round. My young body had a low alcohol tolerance, it seemed, and I was already feeling a bit lightheaded from the first cup even though the alcohol content was really low.

When Luth left to pick up another bottle of blood wine, I realized they were probably going to stay for a while longer, so I decided to excuse myself. Before I left though, Dalton informed me about Emily's burial tomorrow. I brought her body back with us when we returned from Halros three weeks ago, but Dalton requested that I cast Preservation on her body instead of burying her immediately. He wanted to wait until Belka woke up before burying her.

“The burial will be at dusk tomorrow,” Dalton said. “We bury our fallen hunters deep in the forest as a form of respect for their service, but I don't think Belka will be able to endure the journey in her current condition. Do you think you'll be able to do anything about that?”

“I'll have to consult with Stodge concerning Belka's health,” I replied. “I was planning on waiting a full week before I removed the bone shards from Belka to allow her body to recover a bit. Life magic, even if it is used to heal, can be cruel to the body. If I healed Belka in her current weakened state, there's a risk of death if her body couldn't handle the spell.”

“So she can't come to Emily's funeral?” Dalton asked with an expression like a kicked puppy.

“If I can't remove the bone shards from Belka's body tomorrow, I can just carry her with my magic, you know,” I said. I was referring to my Authority, but they didn't know of that secret yet. “I promise you that Belka will be able to attend Emily's funeral. She deserves that much.”

For the very first time since I met him, Dalton gave me a genuinely warm smile. “Thanks, Mr. Marion.”

●●●

I made the trip back home by myself. The quiet solitude gave me time to ruminate on everything that happened during my visit. I came to Wildpost expecting to only greet Belka when she awakened from her coma, but I ended up learning about Bran's past and the village's as well. It was a bit surreal learning that the people I once thought as mundane villagers had such significant pasts, and it was quite a lot to take in.

I admit that their criminal backgrounds triggered me a bit when Bran told me about it, but now that I had more time to think by myself, I realized that my way of thinking was too rigid and hypocritical. I, of all people, should be the one to be open-minded about this kind of thing.

By this kingdom's standards, I was a criminal simply because I was an Ascendant. My deeds or actions do not matter to them: even if I lived a life of a saint since I was born, they'd arrest me simply for what I was. What if that was the same case for Bran? The kingdom might have labeled him a criminal because his actions were causing an inconvenience to the government, not necessarily because what he did was evil.

Of course, making conjectures like that was pointless. I was better off asking Bran for more details instead of making assumptions that might end up being false. The important thing was to be open-minded and to always see things from different perspectives. Who knew, maybe he was the fantasy version of Robin Hood.

About halfway through the trip back, I detected a familiar entity in my fabric sense approaching me from the west.

Master, I'm back! Squeaky exclaimed the moment she entered the range of my fabric sense. She was fast, darting through the forest floor and eating up the distance between us in only a minute.

“Welcome back, little guy,” I said as I picked her up and put her on my shoulder.

I'm a gal, Master, Squeaky complained.

“Right, right. So, how was Halros?” I asked. I sent her back to the city a week ago to check up on things, specifically if they were looking for a certain masked man dressed all in black that could control fabric.

Master is not being sought by the rebels, Squeaky said, much to my relief. They're too busy looking for surviving gang members.

“So if I returned, I'll be able to finally establish a branch of my company there?”

I don't think so, Squeaky replied. Halros is in chaos. The rebels are in control, but they are busy with their war against the last remaining gang as well as the former city guard. Nobody is cleaning up the bodies, so undead are rising every night. The Gravekeepers want to clean the streets of the undead, but the rebels prohibited them from leaving the city graveyard. Most of the adventurers in the city left, leaving behind no one to cull the monster population near the city. The slums outside the walls have basically become a monster buffet.

“Well, that is one big shitshow,” I muttered. “I wonder how Bran is going to come up with a plan to retaliate in the middle of all the chaos in Halros.”

What plan? Squeaky asked, her whiskers twitching curiously.

Before I could answer, another familiar presence entered my fabric sense. A very familiar presence that was approaching my location at breakneck speed. “Oh fuck me. Everyone, get ready for battle. Squeaky, go hide somewhere and wait for my signal to attack.”

Squeaky jumped off my shoulder and scurried up a tree, her black body hidden amongst the shadows in the branches.

“Get ready,” I told my puppets as I readied several spells. “The damn pussycat is back.”

A moment later, my old enemy returned: the damnable black panther. It glared at me with one eye. Its other eye was shut and a nasty scar went from its eyebrow down to its mouth. Tedd was the one who did that, and when the panther noticed me staring at its blind eye, I chuckled. “Came back to have your other eye blinded?”

The panther roared, a loud and primal sound that immediately caused all the noises in the forest to cease. The birds stopped singing and the insects ceased their chirping. Only the noise of rustling leaves was audible as the panther and I stared at each other.

“So you were the one who managed to blind Jet,” a voice suddenly said from behind me.

“Wha—?!”

Without even bothering to turn around, I made a threadtacle on Mr. Marion's back and stabbed blindly at whoever spoke behind me, but I only ended up stabbing a tree.

“Impressive reaction,” the voice said, this time from above.

Again, I didn't bother looking and activated one of my readied spells, a Force Blast. The spell went off with a boom and blasted off a large portion of the canopy above, causing a bunch of leaves and twigs to rain all over me.

Again, I failed to hit the source of the voice. Where the fuck is she?!

I knew it was a woman because the voice was feminine. But what was sending me into a bit of panic was the fact that I couldn't sense her in my fabric sense, which should have been impossible. Unless she was completely naked and had absolutely no hair anywhere on her body, then she should be appearing in my fabric sense. But she wasn't.

“If you're not showing yourself, then I'll just have to target your damn cat,” I spat and turned my attention back to the panther. The air hummed as I prepared to unleash the rest of my spells on the growling monster.

“Wait,” the voice said. The sound tickled something in my memory. “There's no need for more violence. I was just having my fun.”

Then it finally clicked. I knew the owner of that voice.

“Esta?!” I shouted.

“I'm glad you remembered me,” Esta replied with amusement, her voice coming from a growing patch of shadow on a nearby tree. A moment later, the beautiful woman stepped out wearing a black cloak. Her pretty face was graced with a mischievous smile. “How've you been doing?”

“How the heck did you find me?!” I exclaimed, ignoring her question. Upon seeing her cloak, another question popped up in my mind: Why can't I sense her clothes?

“You were careless with your abilities,” Esta replied. “I spotted your rat skulking about in Halros. All I had to do was follow it back to you.”

“How did you even find Squeaky? There's a gazillion other rats in that shithole of a city.”

Esta raised an eyebrow. “You named your Servant Squeaky?”

“Please answer the question.”

“Fine. It's obvious you don't know jack about Authorities and Ascendants,” Esta said. “Ascendants can't pierce through each other's Authority. I can detect the shadows outside your body, but not those inside you. You can't detect my clothes, right? That's because I'm purposely wrapping myself with my shadows. This ability made it very easy for me to find your Servant. Since they're an extension of your Authority, the same concept applies to them. Once I felt a small glaring void that my senses couldn't pierce, I knew it was a Servant belonging to an Ascendant, which could only be you. I followed your Servant and lo and behold, I found you.”

That answers my questions, although I found myself pausing in bafflement at the fact that she could detect shadows inside people. Her Authority was probably similar to mine such that it was exponentially more difficult to manipulate shadows she didn't own, especially those of other people. But still, that doesn't mean she couldn't do it. It was just harder. The fact that she couldn't manipulate the shadows inside me or my puppets was the only thing preventing me from having an all-out panic.

I'm sorry, Master. It's all my fault, Squeaky said.

No, you couldn't have known that, I said to my puppet before speaking to Esta. “Then are you here to kill me?”

“Relax, Brogen. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have seen me coming,” Esta said confidently. Based on how I couldn't even find her earlier while she was directly speaking to me, I knew she was telling the truth.

“Then what are you doing here? And you own that damn cat?” I asked while glaring at the panther.

“Jet here is my familiar,” Esta said as she caressed the panther's shiny coat.

“Yeah, well, your cat has attacked me twice already in the past.”

Esta frowned. “I sent Jet to this forest to help cull the monster population. He wouldn't attack humans unless I told him to. Did you attack him first?”

“Heck no,” I said. “It just always attacks out of the blue.”

“Did you happen to be harboring monsters during those two occasions?”

“I…” I was lost for words. I was harboring monsters during those times. Goblins, in both instances.

“Well, I guess that explains it,” Esta said before narrowing her eyes at me. “Why are you keeping monsters?”

“I'm not keeping them, per se…” I hedged.

“Tell me the truth, Brogen.”

I remembered that Esta could probably kill me if she wanted to and decided that being uncooperative would end badly for me. “Fine. A goblin tribe approached me and asked for my protection.”

“They asked you?” Esta clarified. “How did you learn to speak their language?”

“I didn't. The goblin shaman could speak our language.”

“That is unusual, but not unheard of,” Esta muttered. “But that is not of importance right now. My visit today wasn't just coincidental. I've been looking for you, Brogen, which was why I was in Halros when your rat was skulking about.”

I tensed as I prepared for battle. Esta said she wasn't going to kill me, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try to capture me. “Why were you looking for me?”

“Relax, I'm not here to capture you, either,” Esta said, completely reading my mind. “I'm here to recruit you.”

“Again?” I said with exasperation. “Didn't I tell you my answer already back in Halros? My answer is no.”

“Why don't you hear me out first? Then you can give me your answer then,” Esta said as she found a rock to sit on.

“Fine, but can I ask you to send away your panther first? I don't like seeing his ugly face.”

“Alright. Jet, go hunt some monsters while we talk.”

The panther snorted at me derisively, his one eye managing to give me a look of utter disdain. How can a panther even do that?

“Just don't go in that direction,” I said, pointing to the direction of my cave. The panther ignored me, but he did walk to the west. “Alright, let's cut to the chase and hear your pitch, Miss Esta.”

“We need your help,” Esta said, going straight to the point. “Edria is on the verge of falling.”

Maybe a bit too straight to the point.