7

  An Adventurer’s Job

  “Are you sure you want to register?” Katryn asked.

  The next morning arrived quickly, and Adam was walking through the busy street with Katryn by his side. He hadn’t wanted to ask anyone for directions, not after what he’d experienced the last time. Instead, he’d had Katryn escort him, promising a favor in return and she’d accepted… maybe a little too quickly. He couldn’t begin to guess what her favor would be, but he would cross that bridge when he got to it. Right now, his mind was set on a single task, registering as an adventurer. The conversation with Elsa had given him some ideas on what to expect, he just had to hope there were no sudden surprises. But who was he kidding, it had been one nasty surprise after another since he got here.

  “I know it’s dangerous, but I have to earn money somehow.”

  “There are other ways to do that,” she said.

  He lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. “Probably, but I also want to find a way to get back home,” he added. “I figured adventurers would know about far off kingdoms and lands, and maybe about strange magic they’d seen, I mean they’re adventurers.”

  “Why do you want to know about strange magic?”

  Adam hesitated for a brief moment, then decided he could tell her as much as he’d told Elsa. “I want to know about teleportation magic. It’s how I was in the forest.”

  Her face twisted in thought. “Oh, that’s why Elsa is interested in you. I suppose if I asked where you’re from originally, you wouldn’t tell me?”

  Adam smiled and gave a shake of his head. “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t have heard about it anyway,” he said simply. “So there’s really no point in talking about it.”

  “Sounds like you just don’t want to tell me,” Katryn said.

  He didn’t refute the statement. She was right, he didn’t want to tell her. He’d decided that he needed to be more careful about that information. He’d only told Elsa, and she could already be looking into whether a kingdom like that existed. The more people he told, the more chance they would do the same. And how strange would it be if no one had heard of it? No matter how skilled a liar he was, he’d never be able to talk his way out of that.

  Katryn let out a breath, folding her hands behind her back. “If it’s magic you want to know about, you could learn that at the Knight Academy… well, if you get in.”

  Adam’s forehead creased. He’d suspected something like a Knight Academy might exist, but he hadn’t asked, doing so would only have made Elsa much more suspicious of him. From her point of view, he must have seemed odd enough already—a boy found in a forest claiming to be without memory. He had no ties to this kingdom, further asking about the place where their defenders were trained would’ve set off all kinds of alarms. As it was, he was fortunate to be walking freely… even if under watchful eyes.

  Still, now that Katryn mentioned it, he thought about it. Maybe it was something he could do once he proved he wasn’t a threat. The academy should have books about magic.

  “Is it hard to get in?” Adam asked thoughtfully.

  She gave a slow nod. “Very. You have to pass the entrance exam to get in, and I’ve heard it tests both physical and mental strength. Only thirty-five percent of applicants make it through, and thirty fall into Bronze-Ranks, five become Silver-Ranks.”

  “What about Gold-Ranks? Like Elsa?” He asked curiously, glancing down at her.

  “Gold-Ranks aren’t titles that get assigned regularly, otherwise we’d have more than twenty-one of them,” she answered. “Knights like Elsa are outliers.”

  Only thirty-five percent of applicants passed, and Elsa was an outlier. Yet she’d said she would only be second-tier if she were an adventurer. Did that mean adventurers were generally stronger? No, the knights seemed to run things in the kingdom. He had a feeling that things would be vastly different if adventurers were the more powerful group.

  Perhaps, aside from a select few, most adventurers were lower tiers.

  Adam reasoned that if Elsa, a Gold-Rank knight, was thought to be a second-tier, then a Silver-Rank knight was likely third-tier, and a Bronze-Rank, fourth-tier.

  Maybe most adventurers were on, or below, the fourth tier.

  Adam glanced at her. “When’s the next entrance exam? And how long does it take to complete the training?” he asked, his voice neutral. He didn’t have any particular interest in serving the kingdom, but his curiosity about the academy had been piqued.

  “Actually, the last group was admitted before you arrived. The entrance exam won’t be held again until next year. It takes about three years to finish, give or take.”

  Adam didn’t know what year it was, or what kind of calendar these people used. In truth, the fact that they spoke the same language hadn’t really registered to him, not deeply at least. And worse still, he hadn’t stopped to consider whether time flowed differently in this world. What if a year here was only a month on Earth? Or worse—what if time moved slower, and by the time he returned, if he returned, everything he loved was already gone?

  He hoped that wasn’t the case. He prayed it wasn’t…

  One thing was certain, he couldn’t stay here for long. He had to find a way back to his world as soon as possible, and that meant he couldn’t consider the Knight Academy an option, especially as the admission process just concluded, and probably wouldn’t open for a long time, time he simply didn’t have. Waiting around wasn’t an option.

  Adam shook his head. “That’s too long,” he whispered.

  Katryn looked at him, her brown eyes piercing, lingering longer than he thought was necessary. “You’re really desperate to get home. Is there something waiting… someone?”

  His jaw tightened. “My sister,” he replied in a low voice.

  She offered a quiet smile. “I hope you’re able to see her again,” she said, then looked forward and her smile stretched wider. “Look, we’re here.” She pointed forward.

  Adam followed her pointing finger to a prominent building just ahead.

  “Can I leave you here without worrying you’ll lose your way?”

  He gave a restrained smile. “I think I’ll be fine,” he said. “Should be able to find my way back as well, you pointed out a few landmarks I can use. Thanks for the help, really.”

  “You’re welcome.” She beamed. “And don’t forget, you owe me.”

  He gave a nod. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Good,” she said, turning to leave. “I’ll see you when you get back, hopefully.”

  She left, and Adam continued forward. Soon, he found himself standing in front of the great stone archway of the Adventurer’s Guild. It was bigger than he’d expected. The building looked like an old fortress that had since been converted into something between a bar and a courthouse, with high pillars, banners of faded green and gold fluttering in the breeze, and an open space where armed men and women gathered in noisy clusters.

  He started toward the building, then hesitated on the steps for a moment. Becoming an adventurer, the thought still felt foreign to him. Just a few days ago, he’d been sitting in a lecture hall, pursuing a degree in engineering. Now, he was about to plunge into a world he knew nothing about, one of uncertainty and peril. But there was no other choice.

  Adam drew in a deep breath and continued. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of what he’d come to recognize as ale and something else. Adventures lingered all over the wide hall, wearing all kinds of armor and clothes, as some laughed over drinks while others argued over sheets of paper nailed to large boards along the walls.

  It was the first time Adam had seen so many armed people gathered under one roof, and none of them looked anything like the knights he’d been used to seeing since he arrived here. A few of the adventurers glanced his way, seeming almost to size him up, in the same way wolves might study a stray sheep. He hoped there wouldn’t be a problem.

  Adam ignored the looks and made his way toward the long counter at the end of the hall, where several clerks worked behind thick ledgers and stacks of paper. They all looked tidily-dressed in their pristine green uniforms, seeming more like important secretaries than people who worked with adventurers. One of them, a woman with dark hair tied into a tight braid, glanced up with a warm smile as he approached the counter.

  “Hello,” she said kindly. “How may I help you today.”

  He stopped. “I’d like to register.”

  The woman’s eyes flicked over him, sharply noticing the plain clothes he wore, no armor, no weapons visible. But whatever thoughts she had about him, she didn’t say it out loud. She just pulled out a blank form and dipped her quill. “Name?”

  “Adam… Adam Wells,” he answered calmly.

  She nodded. “And your age?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Place of origin?” she asked.

  Adam hesitated a moment. “A long way from here.”

  Her brows twitched at that, but thankfully she didn’t press him for answers. “I leave it as unstated,” she said then glanced up. “Purpose of registration?”

  “To work as an adventurer,” he replied.

  She paused briefly, her quill hovering over the paper. “Are you certain?” she asked, looking him up and down, and not making it subtle. “Adventuring isn’t… safe work. Half the people who walk through those doors don’t last a month.”

  Adam had thought it over all night, asking himself the same question. He knew there was danger registering as an adventurer. Elsa had told him, even Katryn had said the same this morning, but his mind was made up. “Yeah, I’m aware,” he said, voice steady.

  She studied a moment longer, then nodded. “Very well. Do you have a class?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Then you’ll need to declare one before you register,” she replied. “Common classes include healer, rogue, warrior, or arcanist. Others are more specialized.”

  “I’ll go with warrior,” Adam said after a moment.

  She wrote that down without comment. “Do you have any unique skills or abilities granted by your blessing that should be recorded?” she asked quickly.

  Adam thought of his resurrection, wondering if it was something he should declare to the guild. After all, it was his whole reason for joining. But he shook his head. “No.”

  “No, as in you have no skill?” she asked and looked up at him, her brow arching.

  “I have no blessing either,” he added calmly.

  That got her to pause again and she peered at him more keenly, her face twisting in a frown. “You mean you have no magic? Have you been tested with a Diviner?” she asked.

  “Yeah, it showed I have no magic,” he said.

  The frown of confusion on her face softened into pity as soon as the words were out of his lips, and she leaned forward over the counter. “Listen,” she said quietly. “I’ve worked here for many years, and I’ve seen countless young people register with the guild, full of hopes and dreams about being a world renowned adventurer, only to be lost in a matter of months, or weeks. Some had blessings, powerful ones, but it didn’t save them.” She paused and studied him. “And yet you… are you certain about this?” Her voice dropped low.

  He swallowed hard. “I am, thank you for your concern.”

  “Understood,” she said with a nod, not pressing him further. She reached under the counter for a folder of forms and slid the first toward him along with a quill. “I suggest you read this carefully before signing. It’s the guild’s waiver.”

  Adam’s eyes flicked over the text.

  ‘By signing this agreement, the undersigned acknowledges the inherent and costly risks of adventuring, including but not limited to injury, dismemberment, death, curse, or soul corruption. The Adventurer’s Guild shall not be held liable under any circumstance.’

  Adam’s hands shook and his heart pounded inside his chest.

  He’d made his decision, yet a part of his mind urged him to reconsider.

  Releasing a breath, he swallowed past another lump in his throat and glanced toward the clerk who was watching him thoughtfully. “That’s really… extensive,” he muttered.

  She gave a dry smile. “It’s the short version.”

  Without more hesitation, he signed his name at the bottom.

  “Next form,” she said and slid over another paper to him. “Declaration of property and will. If you die, the guild will distribute your possessions according to this.”

  “I don’t own anything,” he said.

  “Then write ‘none’ and sign.”

  He did.

  Once finished, the woman set the papers aside. “Wait here a moment.”

  Adam nodded and she walked out from the counter, disappearing into the back room somewhere. As he waited, he tried to calm his racing heartbeat, telling himself this was the only choice, the only way that he might learn what he needed in order to get back home.

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

  But what if he died?

  The clerk returned to the counter before he could sink even deeper into his thoughts, and she produced a small rectangular card of hardened metal from her pocket. It was a dark gray color, with the guild’s crest engraved on it.

  “Your Adventurer’s License.” She slid it forward. “It identifies you as a registered member of the Guild, Ninth Tier, warrior class. Keep it on you at all times.”

  Adam carefully picked it up. The metal was cold to the touch, and heavier than he expected. It reminded him of the dog tags the U.S military used. His name had already been etched on the metal, beneath the guild seal. Adam Wells, Tier IX.

  “Ninth Tier?” he asked, looking at her.

  She nodded. “It’s the entry level. Everyone that registers starts there unless they’ve proven themselves through prior service or recommendation. Advancement is possible, but it depends on requests completed, reliability, and most importantly… survival.”

  He slipped the license into his pocket. “Got it.”

  “If you lose that license, there’s a replacement fee,” she said upon seeing where he kept it. “If you die with it, it helps us identify your remains. Either way, try not to lose it.”

  “I’ll try,” he responded.

  For the first time, her tone softened slightly. “Well, that’s everything. Welcome to the Guild, Mr. Wells. The quest boards are over to your left. Beginner requests are marked in green, I strongly advise you start with those first. Also, Guild regulation requires that all members take at least one job request every three months to retain their licenses.”

  Adam cocked his head to the side. “What about the tower?”

  “The tower? You mean the Tower of Heaven?” she asked with a lifted brow, tapping her quill gently against the counter. “That’s not typically a request. Adventurers go there when they don’t feel like taking guild jobs, or when there aren’t many available. The tower is different. It’s a lot more dangerous than most regular work. The guild oversees it together with the Church, they monitor who enters and who comes out, both for safety and record keeping. You won’t find any bounties or contracts attached to it, but people climb it for the challenge, for treasure, or to test themselves… only a few climb it for the wish.”

  That was almost verbatim what Elsa had told him, but a part stuck out, the part about the Guild overseeing the tower with the Church. That was information he didn’t know.

  “I see,” Adam said quietly. “Thanks for explaining it to me.”

  The clerk gave him a look that made it clear she didn’t recommend it. “If you’re just starting out, I’d advise staying away from the tower,” she said in a measured tone. “In fact, entry’s been restricted, only sixth-tier adventurers and above are permitted now.”

  He gave a short nod. “Noted, thank you.”

  “Good luck,” she said and dipped her pen back into the ink-pot.

  Adam gave a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and stepped away from the counter, taking it all again, the noise, the people, the pulse of it all. For a moment, he just stood there, feeling the faint weight of the cold metal against his legs. He was an adventurer now, in another world. It certainly wasn’t where he’d thought his life would go.

  He pondered over what to do now…

  Taking a job, even a beginner request, wasn’t an option right now. Should he try to talk to people? Find a party? Or hang around and see if someone would come to speak with him? No, that last one wasn’t an option either. He’d seen the looks some of the adventurers had given him. Maybe, he should just leave for now. He’d gotten what he came here for.

  Yeah, that was probably the best. He’d return tomorrow with a plan.

  Adam turned and walked out of the Guild, the heavy doors closing behind him with a dull thud. He lingered on the steps, drawing a slow breath as sunlight hit his face. Then as he made to descend down, he heard raised voices nearby. A woman’s panicked voice.

  “Please! I don’t have a lot, but I’ll pay whatever I can. Please help.”

  Adam turned toward the voice and he saw the woman, a demi-human, standing near the Guild steps, her voice trembling as she pleaded with a group of adventurers.

  She had a mature look, maybe in her middle or late thirties, and her appearance was utterly striking even in distress. Long fox ears framed her golden-yellow hair, cascading in waves down her back; her eyes were a deep blue, the color of the ocean, and her pink lips were pressed tight, the edge caught between her teeth nervously. She had a cloak clasped to her shoulders, clutching it tight as though it was a lifeline.

  “Please, I’m begging you,” she said, her tone wavering but steady enough to carry through to him. “They’re just children… out there all alone. It’s been twelve days.”

  The three adventurers shifted uncomfortably. One crossed his large arms. “Lady, I already told you, that’s not our problem. Go to the knights. It’s their business.”

  “I… I already did,” she said, her voice cracking. “They can’t help.”

  Another sighed, shaking his head. “Then neither can we. We’ve got our own work.”

  Her fingers tightened around the edge of her cloak. “Please, I can pay—”

  “Not worth it,” the leader muttered, already turning away.

  Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t shout, she just stood there, trembling slightly and lifted her chin, as though willing herself not to cry. Her eyes searched the faces around her, dozens of adventurers who simply looked away, not interested.

  Something about the sight tugged at Adam’s heart, not because he was seized by a sudden burst of altruism, but because, for a moment, it reminded him of his sister, of how she might be right now. If his body was here, in this world, then maybe it wasn’t on Earth. And if that was true, there was a chance his sister still believed he was alive somewhere, and was trying to find him. Desperate and panicked, just like this woman.

  And then, as if feeling his eyes on her, she looked up.

  Their gazes met, and he saw her blue eyes, rimmed red from holding back tears. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, she took a deep breath and walked straight toward him, her eyes burning with quiet, desperate hope.

  “Please,” she said in desperation as she reached him, her voice barely holding steady anymore. “You’re an adventurer now? I beg of you, help me.”

  “I… just registered,” Adam replied quietly.

  “That’s enough,” she said almost too quickly, sounding out of breath. “I don’t care what rank you are, I just need help. Please. You’re the only one even listening.”

  Adam looked around and saw a few other adventurers watching him with curiosity, as though waiting to see what he’d do. But he didn’t know what he wanted to do. He’d just arrived in this world, he didn’t know nearly enough to go around playing hero. What help could he give? Plus, he had his own issues to deal with. But when he looked into her eyes, he found it hard to turn her away, that reminder of his sister still echoed in his mind.

  He exhaled slowly. “Is there somewhere else we can talk?” he said at last.

  She nodded quickly as relief flickered across her face. Clutching her cloak, she led him away from the Guild, down the cobbled street and through a quieter part of town. The noise of the square faded behind them, and after a few more turns, she stopped them before a small house. The walls were plain, the garden just slightly overgrown, but the home had a certain charm. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, motioning him to follow.

  “Please sit,” she said, setting her cloak aside. “I’ll bring tea.”

  Adam hesitated and glanced around the small room, a few chairs, a worn table filled with children’s toys, and the faint scent of herbs. He sat down as she returned.

  “Thank you,” Adam said as she set down a cup on the table and sat across from him.

  “No, I should be thanking you,” she whispered, her hand trembling as she held her own cup. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had turned me away.”

  Adam nodded slowly. “What happened?”

  Despite his willingness to listen, Adam stayed on his guard. He didn’t touch the tea she’d offered, and though he’d already looked around the room for anyone hiding, his eyes still wandered. She’d said some children were missing, and seeing the kids’ toys had eased some of his doubts, it was proof they existed at least. But after what happened at the alley with those other kids, he would be a fool to trust anything completely.

  She drew in a shaky breath before speaking. “I run an orphanage. As you can see, it’s not much, but we’ve always managed… and we were happy.” Her voice thinned almost to a whisper. “Twelve days ago, two of my children went out to play in the field not at all far from here. When they didn’t come back, I went looking for them, but they were nowhere to be found. I rushed to the Knights for help, but they told me to wait a while longer.” Her gaze fell to the floor. “So I waited… and waited. But they never came home.”

  So the missing children weren’t her own blood. He had assumed they were, judging by the wild desperation he had seen in her eyes. She must deeply care for them.

  “What about the Guild? I figured it was possible to put up a request?”

  “I wanted to… but they said it would take time to review the request. I couldn’t wait that long,” she said, shaking her head. “I also didn’t have enough to offer as reward.”

  “You didn’t go back to the Knights for help?” he asked.

  “I did,” she whispered. “An old friend of my late husband, Captain Arryn, he’d just returned from an assignment and I went to him for help. He knew the children who were missing and promised to look for them. But he… he died four days ago.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed. That was definitely strange timing.

  “Four days ago?” he asked, voice tight with suspicion.

  She nodded. “The Duskveil assignment. He was among the casualties,” she said.

  Duskveil, the forest where he’d been. The men he’d seen fighting the goblins.

  What were the chances that a man investigating missing children just happened to die that day? And what were the chances that Elsa, all of a sudden, wanted to know if he’d seen anything or talked to anyone, claiming a renewed interest in what had happened. He didn’t know for certain if the events were connected, but if they were, he knew he shouldn’t be involved at all. This was way, way over his head. Maybe he could pass the information off to Elsa somehow, but could he trust her? What if she was part of it?

  Shit… just fucking shit. Fuck!

  His heart pounded against his chest and his hands began to tremble, only a little, but he clasped them together to steady his nerves. A chill crawled up to his neck, that creeping, instinctive sense that something was very wrong, and he was standing too close to it.

  “Before Arryn went on the assignment, he came to me,” the woman said. “He was shaken… said he didn’t know who to trust anymore. Not even among the knights.”

  Adam suddenly remembered what she’d told the other adventurers when they urged her to go the knights. “That’s why you said the knights couldn’t help,” he muttered.

  “I don’t know what’s happening. I just want to find my children.”

  Adam pondered over what to do for a moment. He knew his best, and likely, safest course of action was to say he couldn’t help her, and then stay as far away from this issue as possible. But could he do that? Could he really turn his back on someone so clearly drowning in desperation? On children? He’d never pretended to be a saint, but he wasn’t a monster either, at least his sister didn’t seem to think so…

  Say he even wanted to help her, what could he do? Where would he start from?

  “Listen, I don’t know if—” He started to say, and saw her fingers tighten around the cup in her hand, her lips pressing together. He exhaled a slow breath, about to push forward, but thoughts of his sister suddenly flashed in his mind; if she were in this woman’s position, desperate and begging for help to find him, wouldn’t he want someone to help her?

  His mind screamed at him to leave, to simply say he couldn’t help, yet…

  “I… I don’t know what I can do to help,” he said in a quiet whisper, already cursing himself as the words slipped from his lips unbidden. “But I’ll try to do whatever I can.”

  For a stretch of time, the woman just stared at him in shock, her pink lips parted and breath catching as if she hadn’t truly believed the words he’d said, believed he’d help her. Then, all at once, she set her cup down with a sharp click and shot to her feet.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and before he could react, she stepped forward, taking his hand in both of hers and pressing it to her lips. Her eyes glistened as she looked up at him, tears spilling freely now. “I don’t have much, but I’ll pay all that I have. Every bit.”

  Adam blinked, startled by the sudden gesture, the warmth.

  He forced his mind to focus back on what mattered. She’d offered him money, but looking around, he didn’t think ‘all that she had’ would be much at all. Besides, he had no pressing need for money at the moment. What he really needed was knowledge.

  He let out a sigh. “I don’t need money, I just have some questions.”

  “What kind of questions?” she asked, surprise clear on her face.

  “Do you know anything about resurrection magic?” He watched her face carefully as he asked, wondering what kind of reaction she’d have.

  Her face set into a thoughtful frown. “Resurrection magic? Does something like that truly exist?” she asked, then as though remembering the information was payment for his help, she shook her head in regret. “Forgive me, I know nothing about that, or about magic in general. My blessing has always been feeble… meager at best.”

  “I see,” he said, failing to hide his disappointment.

  She panicked at his words. “But if that’s what you’re interested in, I—I have books that might help.” She hurried to a corner of the room and pulled open a drawer, rummaging through its contents before producing a small, weathered book.

  Adam was surprised, he’d thought books might be rare in homes.

  “This was my husband’s,” she said softly and brushed the dust from its cover. “He was a knight, and during his training he studied both combat and magic. He kept his book from those days. It contains some old theories about mana.” She hesitated, then offered it to him with both hands. “I don’t know if it holds what you’re looking for, but… maybe.”

  Adam reached a hand to take it, but her hands trembled. “What?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just,” she murmured, a smile softening her features. “All this time, I never really thought much about this book, but now it’s so hard to part with it.”

  Adam could understand, he even respected it a little.

  “How about this, you keep it. I can just come over to read it,” he suggested.

  Her eyes widened with surprise before she caught herself and shook her head. “No, that’s not payment enough for what I’m asking. Please, take it.” She offered the book once more, almost pressing it to his chest. “I’ll also pay you whatever fee we can agree upon.”

  “No, you hold onto it,” he said firmly. “It’s yours.”

  In truth, his refusal wasn’t entirely selfless. He’d already accepted that he would be sleeping in the inn’s stable, so there wasn’t much room—or safety—for keeping a book of such value. More than that, he wanted a reason to return here. She was the only person who might patiently endure his endless and ‘strange’ questions about this world, and as long as she needed his help, she wouldn’t pry too deeply or do anything unpredictable.

  “Are you certain?” she asked, looking at him, shocked.

  “Yeah, I’m certain,” he responded. “About the payment, too.”

  The woman stepped forward and wrapped her arms tight around him. She trembled against his chest and tears flowed freely down her cheek as she whispered, “Thank you.”

  Awkwardly, he rested a hand on her back. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “Perhaps,” she said and pulled back just enough to look up at him, her face streaked with tears. “I’m sorry, I never heard your name, adventurer.”

  “My name’s Adam,” he replied.

  “I’m Lorelei, but you may call me Lorel.”

  ***

  Elsa leaned over her desk, her eyes fixed on the map before her. It was the most up-to-date, the widest she could find, showing other continents and a handful of their kingdoms. Yet she couldn’t find this “America Sea-attle” Adam claimed he was from.

  She was sure he hadn’t lied, not about that.

  It was probably the one thing she was sure about him that was true, and it was only because she’d seen his confusion, and then his desperation to return.

  But it didn’t seem to exist on any map?

  She sank into her seat and released a deep, heavy breath. Why was she even bothered with this? Was she hoping to get him home? Honestly, she didn’t know anymore.

  As long as he wasn’t a threat, it didn’t matter where he came from.

  Then again, he’d almost beaten three men to death. Could she really claim he wasn’t a threat to anyone? Yet she’d allowed him to walk, without any warning. What was wrong with her? She struggled to maintain sound judgment whenever he was around her.

  She couldn’t understand it at all…

  A soft knock on the door pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts and she looked up to see Elliot standing there, his posture stiff, his jaw tight. His face had a troubled look, and his eyes were shadowed with deep thought. He was always an expressive man.

  “What is it, Elliot?” she asked.

  “About the matter you asked me to look into, I have a report,” he said. “One of the casualties of the Duskveil assignment was Captain Arryn Lockehart.”

  She frowned. “I’m not familiar with the name.”

  “He was Bronze-Rank, a veteran knight, served twenty-four years and was supposed to retire next summer to be with his family,” Elliot said and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “He was a good man, all who knew him, even rivals, regretted the loss.”

  Elsa noted his strong reaction, taken a little by surprise. She hated to hear about the loss of life as much as anyone, but with their profession it was unavoidable. But the loss of this Captain seemed almost personal to Elliot. He hadn’t seemed to recognize anyone when they’d recovered the corpses back in the forest. Why was he so perturbed now?

  “Did you know him?” she asked, her gaze soft with concern.

  Elliot shook his head. “I didn’t know the man,” he said. “But the more I looked into his life, the more I was saddened by his death. He led a good, honorable life, and I think it led him to investigate something rather abominable.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Elliot let out a breath. “Before the Duskveil assignment, a few of his friends I spoke to said he began asking strange questions, about an underground crime ring involved in all kinds of dirty business… enslaving demi-humans, trafficking children.”

  “What?!” She cried in alarm. “Inside the Kingdom?”

  “I believe so,” Elliot said.

  Elsa shook her head in utter disbelief. She knew instantly it wasn’t happening in her district, but she couldn’t imagine how such heinous crimes could be committed under the nose of another Gold-Rank. Like her, they were sworn to watch over the people and protect the kingdom? How could they allow something like this? Was the King’s Hand somehow involved? Had he sent an innocent man to die because he began asking questions?

  “What else do you know about the group?”

  Elliot shook his head. “Nothing more so far, but I’m going to start looking into it.”

  “Be careful,” Elsa said. “Find me immediately you learn anything new.”

  He nodded and left.

  Elsa rose to her feet and walked toward the window. She could see the new recruits on the training field going through weapon drills, and usually she’d be the one running the exercise. But that’d have to wait. The issue Elliot had brought forward was too important to ignore. It might not be in her district, but no law prevented her from intervening; it was simply considered courtesy not to interfere in another Gold-Rank’s “territory.”

  Maybe she should speak with Adam first, ask him again if he knew anything about this issue. He was clearly hiding something. Maybe he didn’t trust her? The thought stung a little, and it was hypocritical coming from her who didn’t fully trust anyone either, anyone aside from her adopted father. But whatever the case, she had to make him understand that keeping anything he knew about this issue a secret was going to harm innocent people.

  Would he care about that though?

  Honestly, she didn’t know…

  He didn’t seem like the type to go out of his way to be kind. She recalled the almost troubled look on his face when he asked her why she was kind to him, as though he couldn’t fathom it. Also, someone who’d almost cracked a man’s skull with his bare hands had to be lacking in compassion. Yet, despite knowing all this, Elsa still felt he was decent.

  She couldn’t understand it herself. Believing he wasn’t a threat to the kingdom was one thing, but thinking he was a decent person was another thing entirely. She didn’t know why she felt that about him. Perhaps, she was only seeing what she wanted to see, but why?

  She hardly even knew him.

  By the Divine, she really couldn’t maintain sound judgment with him…