There were almost 20 of them total, waiting at the gates. Nico, Helen, and Barry were standing together, while the other parties were gathered in their own groups. Technically, a few of them should be going out soon, but given the four missing adventurers were returning, the city guard gave them a few minutes extra.

  Fray walked through the gate, covered in blood. Whose it was didn’t really matter given her class. Kal, the Knife Trickster, was bruised with a few cuts, but was otherwise unharmed. Ettore, an Elf Nico distinctly disliked, was also looking injured but alive. Vairough, meanwhile, was bloody and being carried by Fray, and the fifth member of their little group.

  The Stranger in White.

  Marc told Lloyd he saw the vulture as soon as he woke up. There was nothing they could really do until morning anyways, though Marc couldn’t sleep the rest of the night anyways. Lloyd wanted to tell everyone, while Marc was putting his faith in Roen.

  They were arguing to a standstill when Jacky knocked on the door of their shared room.

  They looked over, and they shared a silent agreement. Jacky would know, at the very least.

  “Yeah Jacky,” Lloyd called, “we’re awake and in here. We need to tell you something though.”

  She walked through the door, still shut, looking at the two. Concern flashed over her face when she saw Marc’s clear exhaustion.

  “Oh, you are sick? I can try to -” She was cut off by Marc shaking no.

  “I, uh, well we. . . In the thing with Nico, we got held up at one point.” Marc said, mind still somewhat cloudy. “There were a bunch of Zombies, and then this guy with a vulture, and I saw the vulture. . .”

  “What Marc is failing to say is that on that mission we got surrounded by a Zombie horde,” Lloyd took over for him. “Afterwards, we saw their creator, this weirdo in a white cloak, who had a pet Vulture. Familiar or companion or something, you know what we mean” he waved his hand to move past the point, “And last night, Marc saw the vulture. That means he’s here, and we should tell everyone to get them prepared.”

  “Or! Or, we trust the Hierophant!” Marc replied, making sure his side was heard.

  Jacky held a hand up to stop the argument (that she was probably aware of already, given the nature of the house) from restarting. “The Hierophant knows and told you to not tell people?”

  “Only in the Academy” Lloyd responded, quicker than Marc. The wanderer was about to reply himself but Jacky was quicker.

  “If he knows, then the Queen knows.” That stopped both of them. “And if she knows, then the captains of the city guard know.”

  Marc took a second to process, before confirming, “So, we’ve. . .got it covered?”

  “Well, we should tell Berk, since we’d be the target of any attack like that.” She said.

  Lloyd was already on board, and Marc was willing to let that one go through.

  “Alright,” he said, standing up, “lets get going. It’s time anyway, isn’t it?” Jacky nodded, leaving the two to get prepared for the day. Or, rather, leaving Lloyd to get prepared since Marc had hours in the early morning to get everything ready.

  The walked out, ready to meet up with the other and patrol once more.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Meeting Berk in the tavern again, he was already surrounded by the other groups, and divying up the responsibilities for the day. Their trio was sent off to the Royal Promenade, a very fancy name for the Canopy’s market square. There was no point where Marc and the others could grab Berk to tell him, and even when they did try he was in such a rush that he told them to wait until the met back up at dinner.

  They walked towards the Promenade, dread growing in Marc’s stomach. Something bad was going to happen soon.

  It had been hours and nothing. Marc’s eyes flittered over the market. Everyone in the Canopy right now was aware of these markets even before the flood, and some non-nobles had even been here before, though not for a very long time. It was primarily a place a ceremony that, because of the rarity of major royal announcements, had become a marketplace for primarily artisan goods.

  Now, it was bustling with trade, and Marc’s watchful eyes sought anything that was out of the ordinary.

  He’d taken to using Spectator Effect here, keeping an eye on people. Many nobles, though not all, had a class in one of the non-combatant classes. Scholar was easily the most common, but there were also some Chefs and, oddly, some Farmers. The Guilds had Alchemists and Craftsmen, including a surprising number of Echelon 2’s. Without combat to consistently boost people, most non-combatants were stuck at Echelon 1, maybe getting to the second if they were particularly lucky or did consistently difficult things.

  But there were no zombies, or any other kind of undead. Looking to where he knew Lloyd was staying hidden, their eyes met and both shook their heads no. he repeated it with Jacky, who was pretty clearly in the center of the market, ensuring that everyone there knew there were adventurers nearby. A few guards could be seen on the walls, but not nearly as many as had been in the are when Marc and Berk were there for the Rat mission.

  It was close to midday, and Marc’s hunger and lack of sleep were getting the better of him. He thankfully wasn’t seeing things lurking in shadows, but every once in a while he’d notice he “blinked” for a few minutes instead of less than a second.

  He scanned once more, still finding nothing. The amount of money being exchanged was the biggest shock to him by now, but then again these were nobles. Hundreds of Leaves in exchange for what Marc saw as a trinket, and it wasn’t just once. They were seeing this as a time to make money or get art. Then again, why shouldn’t they? They were in the safest place in the Sage Lands, bar maybe Mystle Academy.

  “Hey bud, you should go back to Jacky’s and sleep man”, Lloyd said next to him. Marc hadn’t even noticed his approach, and jumped a bit as he spoke. He nodded, and stood up slowly.

  “Yeah. Sorry, but. . .”

  “Don’t worry, if the world starts falling down, you’ll figure out soon enough. But you won’t do any good to us falling asleep on your axe.”

  Marc nodded once again, and in something of a haze, walked towards Jacky’s house. The streets were fairly busy, but his attire once again played to his advantage, with people stepping out of his way. He entered the house, said hi to Jacky’s oldest (still younger) sister, Marey, and fell asleep the moment he got into the cot.

  Nico watched the Stranger closely. He’d made friends with Fray, somehow, though given her constant complaining of the other higher echelon adventurers, that probably wouldn’t be difficult. She walked over to her party, the Stranger looking up towards the vulture, not noticing Nico. He activated his stealth boon. Given he was a fairly bad rogue, his boon was weak, but it made him harder to recognize while he had something covering his face. Combined with a potion he knew how to make but foolishly had not resupplied on, it more than made up for his own skill.

  “Alright, this guy is Hraban. All, Hraban - Hraban, all.” The Vulture swooped down and landed on his head, pecking at the palm of his closed fist until he opened it to reveal some kind of meat the bird gobbled up.

  Hraban, the stranger, looked at them for the first time, and gave a small bow. His voice, deep and with the distinctive accent of the Mortocracy, rang out, “Hello all. I am sorry for delaying your friend here. She looked to need a hand.” The vulture pecked his shoulder lightly, “Yes, and a beak.”

  Helen asked the question Nico wanted to, but was too busy analyzing to do himself, “You are from the Mortocracy?”

  He nodded, “We call it Visica, but yes.” That put things together. Visica, the Mortocracy, was one of the few nations that had legal Necromancy, and as its title might suggest they did it very commonly. Hraban continued, “I am here searching for someone, and I have been sent by my Masters to find them.”

  “Hmm?” Nico thought before realizing he said it out loud, “Who?”

  Hraban’s eyes narrowed. Nico used some of his alchemist-granted magic to pull one of his poisons to his hand, and drew a dagger as silently as he could. This was when he atta-

  “A Necromancer. I am an Inquisitor of the Gravemaiden, and I have been sent to put a traitorous sibling down.”