The morning after their wolf?hunting success, the party rose early, ate a quick breakfast at the guild, and gathered in front of the quest board once more. Word had already spread of their battle with the direwolf, and several adventurers eyed them with new respect. Josh tried to pretend he didn’t notice, but the way his cape swished when he moved suggested otherwise.

  They quickly decided that over the next few days, the group would take on a series of quests, each one building their confidence and sharpening their teamwork. None were as dangerous as the wolf den, but each brought its own challenges, rewards, and bruises.

  First they visited Brambledew Orchard in Ashenfall’s eastern outskirts, one of the many farms dotted around the town. The orchard owner had posted a quest complaining of strange nighttime disturbances. The farmers claimed that something was stealing fruit and breaking branches, and the nightly racket made it impossible to sleep.

  “Could be goblins,” Brett guessed as they approached the fenced grove.

  “Could be bored teenagers,” Josh muttered, rubbing his still?sensitive thigh.

  Bhel sniffed the air dramatically. “Could be Surrels. Vicious ones.”

  Perberos crouched near a broken branch, examining claw marks. “Small tracks. Claws. Fast movement. Not goblins.” He stood, dusting his hands. “Spritelings.”

  Carcan frowned. “Are they dangerous?”

  "Only if you insult their cooking," Perberos replied.

  Perberos groaned before explaining “Spritlings are tiny, winged, fox?like creatures, and are notorious pranksters. Not malicious, just irritating, with a knack for petty theft and shrieks that echoed through the night.”

  They wasted most of the day waiting, but as the sun set, the party set up a quiet watch among the trees. They didn’t have to wait long.

  Glittering lights zipped between the apple branches. Chittering laughter filled the air.

  Josh leapt up. “Hey! Get away from the pears!”

  Chaos erupted. Spritelings swarmed, pelting the party with fruit cores. Brett tried casting a net of crackling flame, but the sprites darted away at the last second, mocking him. Carcan attempted a corral them with a shield spell, only for a pair of spritelings to dance around it and proceed to braid a leaf into her hair.

  Perberos, surprisingly gentle, coaxed one down with a handful of honeyed nuts. Bhel managed to wrangle three at once by leaping from a barrel and tackling a low?hanging branch entirely by accident.

  After much effort and even more shouting, the party herded the spritelings into a makeshift pen and negotiated peace.

  “You can stay,” Brett said sternly, “but stop breaking things.”

  One sprite nodded solemnly before stealing his hair tie and zooming off.

  The orchard owner paid them with a pouch of silver and an armful of perfect apples for their evenings work.

  “First quest done,” Josh said proudly. “That wasn’t too bad.”

  Carcan smiled. “No one got bitten this time.”

  Josh exhaled in relief.

  The next day they accepted a request from a molefolk clan living beneath a field near the western hills. Heavy rainfall had flooded their tunnels, trapping several family members and destroying food stores.

  Josh squinted at the quest sheet. “Why are molefolk always described as polite?”

  “Because they are,” Carcan said.

  She was right. The molefolk greeted them with warm handshakes and anxious smiles.

  “Our home is below,” one elder explained. “We’ve tried digging new escape tunnels, but the water keeps rising. We fear for our young.”

  Bhel cracked his knuckles. “We can help get them out.”

  Working together, the party created a rescue plan. Brett evaporated sections of water with controlled fire bursts. Carcan used her shield spell to help steady collapsing walls as molefolk shored them up with planks of wood. Josh and Bhel hauled debris aside, while Perberos guided them with an uncanny sense for underground passages.

  The deeper they went, the more dangerous it became. Loose soil collapsed near Josh’s shoulder. A wave of muddy water nearly swept Brett off his feet. But the group pressed on.

  Finally they reached a chamber where several molefolk had taken shelter. The smallest child clung to Carcan’s cloak as they guided everyone to safety.

  When they resurfaced, covered in mud and exhausted, the molefolk showered them with gratitude and a reward of coin, plus a beautifully carved earthen charm.

  Josh held his up proudly. “I’m adding this to the cape.”

  Bhel snorted. “Of course you are.”

  Their next quest was posted by the Ashenfall road wardens. A waypoint marker on one of the main trade roads had mysteriously cracked in half, disrupting the magical guidance runes that kept merchant caravans safe.

  “Sabotage?” Brett wondered.

  Perberos shook his head. “No. Impact damage.”

  Josh frowned. “Like from a hammer?”

  Perberos pointed to a gouge twice the size of Josh’s fist. “Bigger.”

  The culprit revealed itself soon after. A territorial graniteback boar, an armoured beast with stone?like plates, charged out of the brush with a furious squeal.

  Josh barely had time to lift his shield before the creature slammed into him. The impact sent him skidding backward, boots furrowing the dirt. “Alright!” he roared. “Now we’re talking!”

  Bhel met the next charge head?on, bracing himself like a boulder. Brett struck its flank with a burst of flame, while Carcan boosted their defenses with spells of resilience.

  Perberos loosed arrows between its plates, aiming for the soft gaps.

  The boar spun toward him.

  “Ah,” the elf said lightly. “I may have annoyed it.”

  They fought as a unit, Josh and Bhel keeping the boar’s attention, Brett and Perberos providing ranged pressure, and Carcan weaving healing magic through the chaos.

  With a final coordinated strike, Josh bashing its side, Bhel slamming his axe downward, and Brett blasting it with a pillar of fire, the graniteback toppled.

  Its body dissolved into motes of light, leaving behind a chunk of enchanted stone along with several thick boar bristles and steaks.

  “Not bad,” Brett said, panting.

  Carcan grinned. “We’re really getting the hang of this.”

  A soft chime echoed in each of their minds.

  [You have levelled up to Level 14!]

  Josh pumped a fist. “Yes! Finally!”

  Bhel beamed. “Told you all this running around would pay off.”

  Perberos nodded thoughtfully. “Still... it is slowing down. As expected.”

  Brett groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

  They returned to Ashenfall in high spirits, pockets a bit heavier, though not quite as heavy as they’d hoped.

  Josh held his purse up and shook it. “This feels like it should jingle more.”

  Carcan laughed softly. “We’ll manage. And in a few more days we head for the dungeon.”

  Bhel grinned. “Finally.”

  Brett smirked. “About time we did something dramatic again.”

  Josh exhaled and nodded, staring toward the distant horizon where the hills hid the kobold dungeon.

  The morning dawned crisp and cool, the skies washed in soft pastels, as if someone had brushed pale colours across the horizon. Ashenfall stirred slowly awake behind them while the party left the cobbled streets with purpose. Their spirits still hummed from yesterday’s victory, and they felt more confident from the past few easy wins.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Bhel was humming. Loudly. And terribly.

  “Do you ever stop making noise?” Perberos asked, not bothering to cloak the annoyance in his voice.

  “No,” Bhel said cheerfully. “It scares away predators.”

  “It might also attract them,” Perberos replied dryly.

  Josh grinned. “Better than you humming your tracking songs. You always look constipated when you do.”

  Perberos shot him a glare, but the edge softened. They were getting used to teasing each other now, and even if the elf pretended otherwise, he didn’t mind it as much anymore.

  The dirt road stretched ahead, flanked on both sides by wind-swept fields and clusters of tall, friendly-looking birch trees. Today’s objective was clear and simple or at least, that’s what the quest posting had promised. The northern trade road had been taken over by a group of bandits, bold enough to claim the old stone bridge that once marked the half-day point between Ashenfall and Coldmere. They were charging a heavy toll on any who wished to cross it, and merchants had complained enough that the town administration had finally shoved the problem onto the guild board with the label.

  The party thought they were in for a pleasant morning walk…

  Three hours along the road, they reached what Perberos referred to as "the point where idiots begin living." A crushed wagon lay half-hidden in the ditch, the wheels smashed and the canvas torn. Perberos jumped into the cart, finding a surprising amount of produce had been left behind.

  “They didn’t even bother taking everything,” Brett said. “What kind of bandits leave half the good stuff?”

  “The stupid kind,” Bhel replied.

  “Or the lazy kind,” Josh said. “Maybe there’s a lot of them.”

  Carcan knelt beside the wreckage, hands brushing over the grooves in the wood. “No arrows. No burn marks. Looks like bludgeoning weapons. Clubs?”

  “Clubs and hammers,” Perberos confirmed, pointing to the dented frame. “Heavy swings. Too undisciplined for soldiers. Too organised for random thieves.”

  “So… organised idiots,” Brett concluded.

  Perberos dipped his head. “Precisely.”

  They moved on, tension gathering in the air like storm clouds. The forest thickened around the road, narrowing their path into a channel of tall oaks and sprawling underbrush. Perberos pointed out that someone had intentionally cut branches to create choke points.

  “See?” Bhel said. “Idiots. But ambitious idiots.”

  The stone bridge emerged from the treeline like a sleeping giant, ancient and sturdy, carved with symbols of the old kingdom. Once, it had been a proud marker of civilisation. Today, it was a barricade.

  Makeshift wooden fences had been erected across the bridge’s entrance, reinforced with rope and hammered metal plates. Two bandits lounged lazily behind the blockade, wearing mismatched leathers. One leaned on a crude spear. The other was picking his teeth.

  “You think they see us?” Brett whispered.

  “They smell us,” Bhel whispered back. “You ate garlic again.”

  “I did not!”

  Josh raised his shield. “Plans?”

  Perberos lifted his bow. “Yes. Do not get hit.”

  Before Josh could comment, one of the bandits finally noticed them. He froze mid-tooth-pick.

  “Hoi! You lot! Road’s closed! Pay the toll!”

  “What toll?” Josh called back.

  The bandit scratched the back of his head as though checking for the answer. “Uh… five silver!”

  “Each?” Brett asked.

  The bandit hesitated. “Yeah… I think so.”

  Bhel nudged Josh. “He’s definitely the smart one of the group.”

  Josh stepped forward. “We’re adventurers from Ashenfall Guild. Clear the bridge or we’ll clear it for you.”

  The bandits conferred in urgent whispers. Then the tooth-picking one called out:

  “Boss said no letting adventurers through unless they’re dead!”

  “Oh good,” Brett said with a sigh. “Finally some honesty.”

  Perberos didn’t wait for negotiations to devolve. His bowstring snapped taut and an arrow buried itself in the chest of the tooth-picking bandit before he’d even finished his sentence.

  Chaos erupted.

  Three more bandits scrambled out from behind the barricade, two with clubs and one with a battered crossbow. Josh charged forward with Bhel at his side, smashing into the wooden fence with his shield. The structure shook but held.

  “Brett!” Josh shouted.

  “On it!” Brett stepped forward, flame dancing in his palms. He hurled a blazing orb at the fence, splinters flew, one panel catching fire.

  Bhel used that moment, leaping over the smoking edge like an acrobat. He swung his axe down onto a bandit’s shoulder with such force that he crumpled instantly.

  “Bhel!” Josh shouted. “Stop going in first!”

  “Consider it practice!” he yelled back.

  Josh barreled through the weakened barrier, shield-first. He slammed into a bandit who’d turned to face Bhel, knocking the man over the railing and into the shallow stream below.

  Perberos fired again and another bandit went down.

  Carcan called out warnings, maintaining protective spells over the group, her voice sharp despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

  The crossbowman fired wildly, the bolt flying somewhere into the trees. “That wasn’t even close,” Brett muttered before sending a tongue of flame across the ground, forcing the archer to duck.

  Moments later, the bridge was clear.

  “Well,” Bhel said, wiping his brow, “if those were the lookouts, I give the boss a three out of ten for staff selection.”

  “Three?” Josh asked.

  “They were breathing. That earns points.”

  They followed the path beyond the bridge, winding along the river and into a clearing where several tents had been pitched. A fire crackled at the centre, and a pair of bandits were roasting skewers of meat. One dropped his skewer and froze as he saw the party.

  “Adventurers!” he shrieked.

  “Kill them!” another voice yelled from within the largest tent.

  Bandits poured out in a disorganised swarm: seven, eight, nine of them, brandishing rusty weapons and shouting battle cries that were more enthusiastic than effective.

  Josh raised his shield and braced. “Here we go!”

  Bhel stepped beside him, cracking his neck. “I like these odds.”

  Arrows whistled from Perberos, each one hitting cleanly. Brett launched flame bursts with careful precision, forcing bandits to scatter.

  Josh dashed forward, slamming his shield into a burly man with a warhammer. Steel clashed, sparks flew, and the man staggered back into a cooking pot, flipping its contents everywhere.

  Bhel was a hurricane. He swung his axes in wide arcs, knocking two bandits off their feet at once. Turning to look at Josh, he suddenly screamed “DUCK!”

  Josh dropped just as Bhel axe whooshed over his head and struck a man squarely in the face, proceeding to fall backwards like a felled tree.

  Carcan stayed behind the front line, healing cuts and burns, whispering the calming rhythm of her mother’s song under her breath.

  The fight was messy, loud, and short.

  When the dust settled, the bandits lay groaning or unconscious… or worse. One crawled away, whimpering. Brett casually flicked a firebolt past his head.

  “Next one goes into your arse,” he warned.

  The man passed out.

  The largest tent’s flap burst open. A massive man ducked out, taller than Josh, broader than Bhel, and wearing a breastplate and armour that looked stolen from three different uniforms.

  He had a thick black beard and a mace the size of a tree branch.

  “Which of you idiots killed my boys?” he roared.

  Perberos raised a hand. “Technically, all of us.”

  The leader bellowed and charged.

  Josh barely lifted his shield in time. The impact drove him back several steps, his boots carving grooves in the dirt.

  “Carcan!” Josh shouted. “Keep heals ready!”

  “I’m on it!”

  Bhel tried to flank, swinging his axe at the man’s leg. He was kicked aside with surprising speed.

  Brett hurled a ball of flame at his back. The leader hissed but kept advancing.

  “He’s resistant!” Brett yelled.

  Perberos loosed two arrows, one the thudding into the man’s shoulder, the other his thigh. “Not resistant to that!”

  Josh lunged, stabbing upward with his sword. The leader knocked it aside, backhanding Josh so hard he staggered.

  “Alright,” Josh said, wiping blood from his lip. “Enough.”

  He stepped forward, shield raised, slamming into the man with renewed force. Brett hurled a flame chain, pulling the leader’s arm downward just long enough for Bhel to bring his axe down on his wrist.

  The mace dropped to the ground with an ugly splatter.

  Josh seized the moment. He drove his shield into the man's face, knocking him to his knees. Perberos’ arrow pierced his chest.

  Slowly the bandit leader collapsed and silence settled over the clearing.

  Bhel took a deep breath. “Well. That wasn’t so hard.”

  “You got kicked across the campsite,” Brett reminded.

  “A tactical repositioning” the dwarf shrugged.

  Strangely for the party, the bodies and viscera left over from the fight didn’t dissipate into golden motes, leaving the party covered in things they would rather not think about. The survivors were secured, and they party selectively collected loot from the bodies of those they’d slain. They gathered weapons, coin pouches, a few potions, and a leather-bound pouch containing rare monster claws, likely stolen from some merchant.

  They moved deeper into the camp area, clearing out small pockets of resistance, two lookout posts, a pair of bandits fishing at the river, and one man asleep in a hammock who woke up screaming before Perberos knocked him out again.

  All in all, the bandit operation crumbled quickly.

  As they gathered the last bit of loot, Carcan pointed at the piles of confiscated goods. “We should return these to Ashenfall.”

  Josh nodded. “We’ll hand them in. Might earn a bonus.”

  Brett peered into one crate. “These are sweetbloom pastries! Expensive ones.”

  Bhel took one and bit into it. “Not bad.”

  “Bhel!” Carcan scolded.

  “What? It’s quality assurance.”

  They laughed again, slightly exhausted, slightly triumphant.

  On the walk back, Josh stretched, rolling his shoulders. “That was a decent fight. Felt good to test myself a bit more.” He looked over to one of the bound bandits, eyeing them to make sure they wouldn’t be any further issue, though seeing their boss dead had apparently sapped them of any further resistance.

  “Decent?” Brett said. “You almost got flattened twice.”

  “You were there. I trusted you.”

  Brett tried to hide a smile.

  Perberos ran his finger down his bowstring. “We need harder challenges. Wolves and bandits only get us so far.”

  Josh nodded. “Agreed. A few more quests like this, then the dungeon.”

  Carcan exhaled softly. “Let’s make sure we’re ready.”

  “We will be,” Josh said.

  Josh quietly was a bit worried - he thought back to the conversation he’d had with Brett only a few nights before, and his lack of concern for killing things. He’d just killed people, been covered in their blood, and it hadn’t bothered him… even thinking about it he wasn’t really concerned about it, more worried about the fact he wasn’t bothered. Something was certainly changing with him, and he simply hoped it was a good thing.

  And with that, the road bent toward Ashenfall once more, the sun sinking gently behind them, their next steps already forming in their minds.