Sir Edrin Vale didn’t always wear his title.
Most days, it got in the way. People bowed too deep, spoke too carefully, waited too long for him to draw his sword like sothing was about to explode. He preferred jobs where no one knew him. Easier that way.
Today was one of those days.
The monster wasn’t special.
Big claws. Thick hide. Two extra legs that made it faster in short bursts but clumsy around trees. Nothing I hadn’t seen before.
It had already knocked over a cart and scared off a logging crew before I got there. Guild said it was a class-C forest threat. No mutation signs. No unusual mana. Just an angry animal that picked the wrong place to nest.
Still dangerous. Still needed killing.
I found its trail before noon. Claw marks in the dirt. Trees torn up. Fur stuck to bark. It wasn’t hiding, just roaming wide and loud. Probably thought this area was unclaid. Probably hadn’t slled yet.
I circled ahead and found a low ridge with a clean line of sight.
Then I waited.
It ca stomping through the underbrush twenty minutes later. Didn’t hesitate. Just barreled forward like it owned everything in front of it.
That made it easy.
I dropped from the ridge and drove the sword in behind the shoulder joint, through the thick part of the muscle. It tried to twist. I kept hold of the blade and pulled with it. It went down hard and fast.
Breathing. Then twitching. Then nothing.
I pulled the sword free. Wiped it. Checked the claws—long, sharp, good enough proof. No one needed the at. The hide was worthless. All that mattered was the village would be safe for another month or two.
They saw coming before I cleared the tree line.
First was the lookout—barely more than a teenager, holding a lantern too big for her grip. She squinted, saw the claws in my hand, and dropped the ladder in a rush.
By the ti I stepped onto the main road, the headwoman was already walking out to et .
Short. Old. Wore four layers even in spring. Her mouth never smiled, but her eyes did.
She looked at the claws. Then at . Then nodded.
"Thank you."
"Taken care of," I said. "Nest looked recent. No others nearby."
She held out a small pouch. I didn’t take it.
"Guild covered this one."
"Still," she said. "You ca quick."
"I was in the sector."
"Still."
She tucked the pouch back into her belt and gave a short bow.
I don’t like being bowed to. But I nodded back.
I was going to leave after that. Get the kill recorded, move to the next check-in. Maybe stop at a trade post for resupply. Simple.
But then the carpenter flagged down.
His roof was broken—again. Last windstorm knocked the bracings loose. Fla-seal hadn’t held. Water damage creeping in.
I don’t know why I said yes. Just climbed the ladder and started checking the slats. Tightened what I could. Replaced a few fastenings. Gave advice on the rest.
Then soone else ca. Their cart axle was bent.
Then soone else. A child crying about a missing kitten.
There was a broken fence near the north orchard.
So of the villagers had tried to patch it with bramble and scrap wood, but it wouldn’t hold the next ti sothing big ca sniffing around.
I took one look and started digging. A few boys joined after a while.
Ilet them hand nails. asured the line myself. Replaced the post.
One of the older won set out slices of cooked yam on a stump nearby. I nodded in thanks and took two.
By the ti the sun dipped, I’d lifted two barrels, refitted a wheel, and found a kitten stuck between two grain sacks behind the old storehouse.
They didn’t treat like a hero. Just a tall man with a sword who was already here.
I didn’t mind.
I stayed longer than I ant to.
And when the dusk bell rang—soft, made from an old cooking pot and so wire—I stood still and watched the kids racing to the far field, chasing firebugs.
No monsters. No fire. Just laughter.
That was enough.
The scroll reached just before dawn.
I was checking the eastern trail—small slope, loose stones, nothing urgent—when the courier hawk circled twice and dropped low. It landed right on the barrel by the gate and pecked at the side until I took the scroll tube.
Stamped with Guild seal. Not urgent tier. Not tagged priority.
But it ca to . Not the village head. Not the closest relay post. .
I cracked the seal.
The ssage was brief. Cleaner than most, which told soone didn’t want questions.
Ashring.
That was the word that stood out. Short paragraph. Advisory language. "Potential resurgence," "uncatalogued site activity," "myth-adjacent readings," the usual phrases for when sothing unexpected started flickering back into notice.
I read it twice.
No orders attached. No directive.
Just the report.
A scout—one of ours—had found sothing. A site. A shrine. Possibly mimic-related, possibly not. She’d flagged it for classification but didn’t stay long. Location triangulated to just beyond an older forest route. Sa sector I’d handled three months ago.
Sa direction as the last light.
I folded the scroll and tucked it into my coat.
Didn’t speak for a long ti.
The path back wasn’t long. The forest stayed quiet. Too quiet.
I checked my holy sword once, more from habit than worry. Still clean.
Halfway down the main road, Ipassed a rchant cart half-ditched near a slope. A wheel was off. The driver cursing low.
I turned back. Helped lift the cart fra, lock the axle, and refit the wheel. Not a word spoken. Just hands moving.
When it was done, the man muttered thanks.
"Bad roads lately," he added. "Heard so place down in the basin’s been... weird."
I nodded once.
Didn’t correct him.
Didn’t explain.
Just kept walking.
I reached the Guild just after dawn.
Didn’t announce myself.
Didn’t file an arrival ping.
When the first spires of the Guild post ca into view, I adjusted the strap on my scabbard and squared my shoulders.
Whatever waited inside, it would have to wait a few more seconds.
I paused at the door.
Breathed in.
Then stepped inside.
Just walked through the south hall, past the empty training yard, up the side stair to the secondary offices. I knew the way. I’d been here before.
I raised a hand.
Knocked once.
And waited.
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