Eofe was bored.

  She hadn’t imagined that anything could be worse than slaving away on a ship for weeks on end, but that just goes to show what little imagination she possessed. It had only been half a day on the caravan and already she was missing the open sea, the fresh air, and even her chores, which at least keep her busy, and——even Bawdric’s ramblings. She couldn’t believe that an orphaned sailor boy was better company all four of her traveling companions.

  Granted, one of them was a child, but the others had no excuse.

  She had found herself in a cramped and stuffy wagon, covered over with a canvas that kept out the sun while simultaneously smothering Eofe’s senses. She had never felt so confined in her entire life. In addition, she was surrounded by who she thought must be the dullest companions in the world.

  A Human man sat across from her, a pale and scrawny thing who looked like he had never been outside a day in his life. He had his head buried in a book, with another bag full of books set on the bench to his side. He was a [Scribe], which seemed about the most boring thing Eofe could imagine. They didn’t have many books in the Green; they preferred learning by deed and word of mouth instead, which was far more reasonable than sitting still and for hours on end. That wasn’t to say that Eofe didn’t know how to read—she just didn’t like it.

  The next two were a Human woman and her young son. She was a [Mother], which Eofe didn’t even know was a Class. She felt a bit bitter knowing her own mother had not been devoted enough to be rewarded a Class for her efforts. Eofe didn’t even try to guess the Human child’s age. He could have been anywhere from five to twenty for all she knew.

  Worst of all, sitting right beside her, was a small Goblin man. She knew she wasn’t alone in her prejudice from the looks the [Scribe] gave the little man, though the woman and her son at least seemed to be at ease in his company. Of course, Eofe had never actually met a Goblin until now, but she had heard the stories, so she kept her things close and her pack shut tight. The Goblin was an [Artificer], something that Eofe had never heard of. She assumed he was some kind of artist.

  They had spent the first several minutes in each other’s company on brief introductions, meaning that Eofe had already forgotten each of their names. They were headed to Parth for different reasons: the [Scribe] and [Artificer] for work, and the [Mother] and her child to “get away from the city,” as she had put it lightly with a spurious laugh. The woman kept glancing furtively down the road, as if expecting something to appear, so Eofe wondered if she was traveling with some sort of criminal.

  The woman and the Goblin had begun to engage in some inane chatter about their dull lives immediately after the introductions, and had been at it for several hours now. The caravan had passed out of the sparse woodlands surrounding Tarog’s Landing by midday, and now all that was left beside the road was dirt and scrubland.

  Two more wagons pulled up the rear of the caravan, the first driven by a [Traveling Trader], followed by an [Apprentice Merchant]. The trader looked like a sailor who had given up a life at sea to trade on land instead. Her braided her was woven through with scraps of fabric, and she even wore a cutlass on her belt. Eofe was certain the woman and her apprentice would have been better company, but then she would have to get out of the wagon and approach them on her own, so she immediately discarded that thought. What she really wanted to do was to join the adventurers. Unfortunately, they were busy doing their jobs, keeping on high alert for any monsters, beasts, or bandits roaming the road.

  She had felt a little embarrassed about having to be guarded when she was a full-fledged adventurer herself (she had only just joined up yesterday, but she still felt like that warranted some regard), though when she offered to help the Gold-rank team with their job, the captain—a level 45 [Ranger] carrying a longbow and a sword—told her that she would just get in the way.

  “It’ll be dangerous as we get closer to the mountains,” he had said, stroking his short black beard while Eofe grimaced (she still found facial hair to be somewhat unsavory). She could spy the aforementioned mountains in the distance, an edifice of earth and stone to the northwest that pierced the clouds and continued west for as far as she could see. “There’s many a beast rated over forty in the area. Some even over fifty. Leave the monster killing to us, you just sit in the wagon and enjoy the ride.”

  She wasn’t enjoying anything at the moment. The woman and the Goblin had somehow moved on to even duller topics, discussing politics, the Senate, and other things Eofe had no understanding of or interest in. Even worse, the child kept staring at her, then pointing and whispering something to his mother, who would interrupt her conversation with the Goblin to whisper something back, and Eofe just imagined all the terrible things they were saying about her. It felt a bit unfair they were picking on her when there was a right there, but she supposed Goblins were much more common than Elves in these parts.

  The mother seemed to have caught on to Eofe’s discomfort, because she put on a placating smile and apologized. “I’m sorry, we’ve just never met a High Elf before,” she said.

  Eofe cringed. “I’m not a High Elf,” she said. “I’m a—” bile crawled up her throat as the words rose to the tip of her tongue, “—a .”

  The [Scribe] perked up at this revelation, and even the [Artificer] lifted his bushy Goblin eyebrows.

  “Really?” the [Scribe] asked. “I thought you people weren’t allowed out of your forests.”

  Eofe’s distaste for the man grew with every word.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” she said curtly.

  He ignored her tone. “What brings a Wood Elf to Orith? Are you on a quest? Some mission for your people? Or have you come seeking a husband?”

  .

  “Oh! Are you perhaps on a spiritual journey? I hear the Orc shamans have such practices.”

  She supposed it was something like that, though that’s not how she answered.

  “I’ve been exiled,” she lied.

  She didn’t know why she said it. In a way, she was the opposite of an exile, seeing as her mother and most of the Fal would have done anything to keep her from leaving the Green. But something about the man rubbed her the wrong way, and she hoped her statement might shut him up. Her fatal error was that she greatly misunderstood the rabid curiosity of scholars and their ilk.

  Instead of being embarrassed or appalled, the man’s eyes lit up at the lie. “One moment, please,” he said, digging into the bag at his side. He pulled out a book with mostly blank pages, as well as some sort of pen. “Please, continue. Why were you cast out of your forest?”

  She had no idea where this was going, but she had already dug her hole, so she figured she may as well keep digging. She considered all the reasons that might see a Surag exiled from the Green and stripped of the Mark of the Wild. There weren’t many; the punishment for so severe a crime was usually death. So, she chose something else instead.

  “Excessive cannibalism,” she said.

  He scribbled nearly as fast as she could speak, and she noticed the pen dripped with ink even though he had never dipped it in an inkpot. Some benefits of the [Scribe] class, she assumed. He stopped and stared blankly at the page for a moment after he finished writing.

  “I’m sorry… did you say

  cannibalism?”

  Eofe nodded. “A little bit is fine. I ate too much,” she patted her stomach.

  The [Scribe] looked a mix of enthralled and aghast, while the mother maintained a blank smile on her face and pulled her son close. The Goblin was shaking with contained laughter that he covered with a cough.

  “Pardon me,” he said.

  The [Scribe] finally managed to gather his wits before continuing. “Incredible,” he said. “Your people so rarely leave the forests. I must be the first outsider to have heard of this practice.”

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  He wasn’t wrong on either count. The rest of the afternoon was spent with Eofe regaling the man with tales of her people, most of which she pilfered from stories she had been told about Orcs or even the Wildmen. She wasn’t sure if any of them were true, but that didn’t matter at all. The picture she painted was of a savage place where naked Elves performed blood rituals, mated with beasts, and sacrificed their children to the Greenwarden. The Goblin had occasional coughing fits during the telling, earning him a withering glare from the [Scribe]. The mother also caught on at some point, rolling her eyes at the more outlandish tales. Eofe decided she was finished when the sun began to dip below the horizon and the caravan finally stopped for the day, pulling off the road into flat plain cleared of brush.

  “I shouldn’t say any more,” she said apologetically. “I’ll get in trouble, or something.”

  The man nodded and continued writing his notes and muttering something about finally getting “published” and becoming a [Scholar]. Eofe didn’t really understand, and she was about to wish him the best of luck before she remembered she didn’t like him at all. So, she hopped out of the wagon and left him to it. At least that aside had alleviated her boredom for part of the day.

  The six wagons had been parked in a circle in the clearing. The place must have been a well-used resting spot, as the dirt was ground to a soft powder in a rough circle that had been cleared of the brush that occupied most of the surrounding land. Each pair of horses was detached and hitched to a wooden post driven into the ground. Eofe felt a bit of pity for the creatures. She didn’t detect a hint of the Greenwarden’s blessing upon them. The Goddess’ domain was only for wild beasts—there was no place in her heart for tamed or domesticated creatures.

  The [Ranger] was already preparing a fire in the center of the circle, where he had placed a bundle of sticks in a pit. He whispered some words and the wood ignited into flames. Eofe didn’t know if the magic was the result of a Skill or his own talents, but it looked mighty convenient either way. The only magic she was capable of was that which was granted by the Benefactor and engraved into her body and mind as a Skill. She had utterly failed whenever she tried to cast even the most basic spells on her own.

  Eofe found a spot on the ground away from the fire as the rest of the caravanners gathered around the pit. The three merchants and the other three drivers clustered together, chatting amongst themselves. The mother brought her son out to sit beside the fire, who clung to her skirts and whispered what Eofe assumed to be inane questions to his mother. Then there was Ulreth’s Pack, the four-person Gold-rank adventuring team. Besides the stern [Ranger], the party also included a [Cleric of Abundant Faith] with an easy smile and a [Stormcast Sorcerer] who was far too loud. They were both Human men and clothed in practical and well-worn traveling gear. The sorcerer was completely hairless and held a copper staff tipped with a pale yellow stone. The cleric on the other hand had a head of auburn hair longer than Eofe’s own that was tied into a knot, and carried a flanged mace that hung off his belt. The fourth and final member, who Eofe was glad to see wasn’t around at the moment, was a heavily armored [Vanguard].

  A loud whistle pierced the dusk and all eyes turned to the captain of Ulreth’s Pack.

  “Gather ‘round, we’ve got some matters to discuss before we head out tomorrow.”

  The Goblin and the [Scholar] came out of their wagon to join the group. The Goblin sat too close to Eofe and she scooted away, earning her a disappointed look from the little man.

  “Now, since you’re all a bunch of fools who decided to take the short northern road to Parth instead swinging around south, I’ve got to prepare you for what’s to come.”

  Eofe didn’t know that was an option.

  “We’ll be in the shadow of the Stonewall Mountains within a couple of days. And we encounter threats on the road, I promise you. The Flesh Shaper’s monsters have been ranging further afield of late. If we don’t run into any of them, we’ll at least see whatever beasts they’ve run out of their own territory. So, you understand how important it is that you ,” he looked pointedly at Eofe and her wagon-mates. “I wish I didn’t have to say this every time, but there’s always some damned fool who gets frightened and runs off the road. These wagons have protections,” he walked over to the covered wagon and pointed to a series of dimly glowing stones that were seemingly buried into the wood on the side. “These will shield the wagon from harm. Which means that if you want to be shielded, you must remain inside. Your [Driver] will be responsible for activating them on our orders, or when he feels is appropriate. They won’t last forever, so we must use them sparingly. I trust the merchants to manage their own protections, they’ve all been on this road before.”

  He looked around at the gathered travelers. “Is everyone understood?” He was rewarded with nods before he turned to his companions. “Anything to add?”

  “You forgot to tell them that if they’re not inside when the wards go up, they’re not getting inside at all,” a gruff female voice added.

  The fourth and final member of Ulreth’s Pack walked into the circle from wherever she had been. The woman was over six feet tall and bedecked in worn gray plate armor up to the neck. A full helmet with a visor hung off her belt, leaving her head exposed for the moment. A single braid of dark hair fell down her back, where the hilt of a massive warhammer peeked over her shoulder. Most distressingly, her skin was green and she had a pair of sharp tusks jutting from her lower lip.

  Eofe looked away when their eyes met. The Orc had been giving Eofe a hostile look since she first saw her. She must have something against Elves, which Eofe thought was incredibly unfair.

  “Good reminder, Kana,” the captain said. “These wards are simple, but strong. They don’t discriminate and they won’t let anything through while they’re active. Not even you.”

  At this point, the cleric brought out a pot and set it over the fire.

  “That’s enough doom and gloom for the night, I think,” he said. “Let’s have some porridge.”

  Eofe waited alone while the meal was prepared and the cleric went around delivering bowls. She watched him idly while he did so. The cleric’s Class was curious. She had no idea what a [Cleric of Abundant Faith] was or which God he might serve. When he finally brought her a bowl, she asked him what it meant.

  “Ah, you saw my Class? You must have an assessment Skill.”

  Eofe nodded. The priest held out a necklace on which hung five different emblems she did not recognize.

  “It means I serve many Gods. This is Ragnar the Hunter,” he pointed to a symbol on one side, then counted his way down the chain. “Holth of Honor and War. Helena of Triumph. Joha, Purveyor of Fortune. And…” the man coughed and looked suddenly embarrassed. “Andiri, Patron of Excess.”

  Eofe hadn’t heard of most of those Gods, though she knew of Ragnar. It wasn’t uncommon for Surag to send the occasional prayer to the Hunter. That last one also sounded vaguely familiar…

  “Excess?” she asked.

  “Yes. I joined her in my youth. She does not have much to offer an adventurer, but I still can’t bring myself to leave her service.” He still looked fairly young to her, even for a Human. “And of all the Hellgods, Andiri is often the most tolerable to outsiders.”

  Ah, now Eofe remembered. The Goddess of the Hell of Excess, patron to gamblers, drunks, and harlots. She wondered which of those Eathan had been in his younger days, but thought it imprudent to ask. She was also surprised to find a man who served both Highgods and Hellgods, even if Excess was one of the more tolerable Hells.

  He looked closely at Eofe, taking in her pointed ears and her stubby antlers. “What about you? Where does your faith lie?”

  “Only in the Greenwarden.”

  She had never really considered following any other Gods, even though Greenwarden would allow it. The idea had always felt blasphemous to the Elf. Especially with how much of a personal interest the Goddess took in Eofe’s own future.

  “So, you a Wood Elf.” Eofe sighed and resigned herself to the moniker. “Kana said you might be.”

  Eofe felt uncomfortable knowing the Orc had been talking about her, and wondered just what that attention meant.

  “I’m Eathan, by the way. I should have introduced myself sooner.”

  “Eofe.”

  He held out his hand and Eofe looked at it curiously. Eathan laughed.

  “You’re supposed to shake it. It’s how people greet each other in Orith. And many other places around Calan.”

  Eofe shook his hand.

  “Don’t mind Kana too much, by the way. She’s a prickly one. Though I don’t know what she has against Wood Elves,” he rubbed his chin. “Have your people had any conflict with the Orcs?”

  “Not for a long time,” Eofe said.

  “That may not matter. The Orcs have a longer memory than most. Especially those from the Tribes. And they do love their grudges.” Eathan shrugged. “Well, try not to let her get under your skin. Let me know if she bothers you, but I expect the worst you’ll get out of her is a cold shoulder.”

  The cleric moved on, delivering food to the rest of the caravan. Eofe watched the Orc [Vanguard] across the fire. The woman sneered at her once, then returned to eating her porridge.

  Eofe finished her food in silence, slightly concerned over having earned the ire of a level forty-something adventurer. And an Orc at that. It was just after she had finished eating and was wondering where to sleep that captain stood up for another announcement and answered the question for her.

  “We’ll be bedding down in a moment. There’s only so much room in the passenger wagon, so we’ll give it to the women and children for the night.”

  He nodded to the mother and to Eofe. She narrowed her eyes at him as she tried to discern into which category he placed her. She strolled up to the wagon, pointedly took out her things, and set up her bedroll near the fire.

  “I’ll sleep outside. The [Scribe] can have my place.”

  The man brightened up and thanked her, and for a moment she regretted her hasty decision for giving the man the sense that she liked him.

  She fell asleep soon after, worried about having to endure two more weeks of monotonous days.