It was raining the day Clay returned to Crownsguard.

Most people would have considered that an ill omen, to say the least. After all, he would be dealing with some rather hostile situations over the next few hours, and arriving anywhere after being soaked through to the bone was generally not the best way to face anything, let alone an entire Guild Chapter full of mildly irritated adventurers—some of whom were probably far more than irritated, if he was honest with himself.

At the same time, things could definitely have been worse. The rain was more of a desultory patter of raindrops than a full downpour. While the early autumn sky was grey with clouds, they weren't the angry dark that heralded a thunderstorm, and the wind was still too warm to really chill him to the bone. It might have been his [Experiences] and high [Fortitude] talking, but Clay really didn't feel like there was much to complain about as he walked through the gates of the city on their way to the Academy.

Of course, there were also some benefits to having the rain welcome him. For one, it gave him an excellent excuse to keep his belongings covered and the hood of his cloak up. The streets of the city were relatively clear of people, and the usual crowds of minstrels in each square were absent. Aside from the occasional passerby, hurrying along the slick cobblestones on some errand or another, there weren't many people to pause and stare at him, though the spear he carried across one shoulder attracted a bit of attention, even with the head wrapped in cloth. Given what he was looking forward to, fewer whispers and rumors were probably better.

Not that he expected his arrival to be a surprise. Clay had sent a message ahead of him to notify the Academy of his intentions—some of them, at least—and the way the [Guard]'s eyes had widened when Clay had told her his name had been a little concerning, as had the messenger that had taken off running in the direction of the palace. Odds are, he was going to have quite a few uncomfortable conversations today.

Still, it would be better to have done with it rather than putting it off. His father had always said that the best time to deal with a problem was yesterday; today was the second best. One way or another, Clay would need to deal with the Guild, and procrastinating it would only allow the issue to fester and worsen.

At least, that was what Clay kept repeating to himself as he approached the entrance of the Academy, where a pair of adventurers were standing guard.

The sentries were more for display than anything else; only a total idiot would ever consider assaulting the home of the Guild of Adventurers in Crownsguard. Neither one would be lower than a journeyman in status; given the size of the sword one was lifting, and the subtle magic dancing around the staff of the other, Clay doubted they were less than level fifteen. He was tempted to use the Orison to confirm it, but using the [Chant] without invitation would have been a hostile move—not exactly how he hoped to start his errands here.

Instead, he approached the less hostile of the two—the adventurer with the staff at least seemed like she didn't mind the rain as much as her scowling friend. Her eyes moved from him, to his spear, and then back. A subtle tension crept into her expression as he stopped a respectful distance away, and her voice was carefully neutral as she challenged him. "Who approaches the Guild of Adventurers?"

Clay smiled. "Clay Evergreen, peer of the Guild."

Their reaction was… uncomfortable. The woman with the staff took an immediate step back, her weapon tilting to point the crystal in his general direction. Across from her, the swordsman's response was far more obvious. He pivoted to face Clay and brought his sword around to a position where it could strike or defend easily.

He watched the adventurers, not showing any sign of hostility. There was no need to start things off with a fight… yet. "Is there a problem, heroes?"

The swordsman answered. "We've been asked to escort you to the Council. Immediately."

Clay looked at the swordsman, measuring the distance between them. Depending on the man's [Valor], the man might be close enough to reach him with a decent lunge. A flash of memory ran through him—a [Dark Knight]'s axe, descending in an arc that smashed through his spear and into his chest—but he blinked it away. His fingers tightened for a moment on his spear haft, though he kept his voice relaxed. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. Today isn't the best time for an extended conversation."

The guards exchanged an incredulous look; the swordsman's voice grew amused. "It wasn't considered an optional request."

"Are you sure about that?" Clay glanced up at the sky. The clouds were thick enough that a bit of lightning wouldn't be considered too unusual. He'd used the Anthem of Thunder the day before; the Refrain would call it to him immediately if he needed it. "Because I'm not some villager you can order around, adventurer. Perhaps you should… clarify things with them before you start something you might regret."

The swordsman started to step forward, but his companion shook her head. Her eyes hadn't left Clay yet. "You still defy the Council?"

Clay looked back at her. "I'm sworn to fight monsters. If the Council wanted me to obey them instead, they should have had me swear a different Oath."

She blinked at the response, a flicker of uncertainty in her expression. The swordsman glanced at her, and his stance grew less sure as well. He looked back at Clay. "Does it really matter? There are two of us and one of you."

"For now." Clay shifted his stance now. The words for the Refrain were hovering in his mind, ready to unleash at a moment's notice. He'd need to back up quickly enough to keep from getting smashed, and dodge whatever [Charms] the woman could throw. A quick deflection and jab could back the swordsman up, and then if he got the [Chant] off…

Something in his eyes must have given the swordsman a reason to pause, because the confidence in his stance seemed to vanish. He took a slow step back, and Clay watched his hands shift on the sword. A sudden charge seemed far less likely, at least. The woman glanced back and forth between them, and seemed to be even more worried now; rain slid down her face, making her blink rapidly.

"I believe you can go and consult with the Council, Syr Gertrude. Sir Abel, you can remain here with me and keep Sir Clay company."

The voice cut through the tension like a knife, and Clay grinned as he looked over at Master Taylor. She'd stepped out from one of the guardhouses, her birdlike stride moving her quickly across the cobblestones. "Thank you, Master Taylor. I appreciate your help."

She nodded to him absently. Syr Gertrude looked at the swordsman, but he seemed reluctant to protest as the senior adventurer made a shooing motion with one hand. "Go on, off with you. Neither of you wants to find out exactly what trick he has planned, and I don't want to have to clean up the mess afterwards."

Sir Abel muttered something sullen under his breath, but he straightened up and turned his sword aside. Syr Gertrude lasted a moment longer before she scurried off through the rain, obviously headed for the nearest Councilor she could find. Clay let out a quiet breath and nodded, relaxing his own stance. He grinned as Taylor gave him a sour look. "Why were you so sure I had a trick?"

Taylor rolled her eyes. "I watched you spar with Syr Katherine at level thirteen and win. I can only imagine you've only gotten worse at what, level sixteen?"

Clay glanced at Abel, who was staring at Taylor in apparent shock. He shrugged. "Seventeen, actually."

Sir Abel grunted quietly, but Taylor just muttered something to herself. "And I suppose you've been busy, to have reached that level already. I'd heard the rumors." She tilted her head and peered at him a bit more closely. "What were you planning on using, anyway? The Canon of Rock, perhaps?"

He gave her a half-suspicious look. Then he shrugged; she seemed to be on his side, anyway. "The Anthem of Thunder, actually." The [Chant]'s namesake rolled across the sky above, and he glanced at the clouds.

When he looked back down, Taylor was staring at him in shock. She blinked rapidly and seemed to shake herself out of a stupor. "The Anthem? The last time that was used successfully was… ages ago. You'd have to be…"

She trailed off, muttering to herself as the rain continued to fall. Clay looked at the sentry, but Sir Abel was suddenly avoiding his eyes for some reason. He tried not to smirk; the Anthem had been… convincing back at Janburg, when he'd negotiated for the freedom of his students. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to demonstrate it here as well.

As they waited in the rain, Clay idly checked his [Gift], only in part out of a desire to reassure himself.

[Clay Evergreen]

[Class: Commoner] {Level 17} (All Stats have a maximum of 32)

[Subclass: Laborer (Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing repetitive tasks)]

[Soul: 1250/1700]

[Stats] {Might: 32} {Fortitude: 32} {Insight: 32} {Memory: 32} {Valor: 32} {Will: 32}

[Experiences]

{Farmhand: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing Farming activities. Gain Planting, Harvesting, and Husbandry skills.}

{Hunter: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting wildlife. Gain Trapping and Tracking skills.}

{Slayer II: Gain 20% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.}

{Forrester: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of a forested area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in a forested area.}

{Watcher: Gain Analysis Skill. Gain 10% bonus to Tracking skill}

{Ambusher: Gain Hide Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all attacks from hiding. Gain 10% bonus to Trapping skill.)}

{Exterminator II: Gain triple the bonus from all Bane Achievements.}

{Determined: Fatigue lessened by 10%. Wounds heal 5% faster. Gain 10% bonus to repetitive or familiar activities.}

{Defiant II: Gain 40% bonus to all skills when facing an opponent of a higher level.}

{Smallmage: Can chant minor Chants 10% faster. Gain 20% effectiveness for minor Chants.}

{Valiant: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when facing multiple opponents.}

{Warsinger: Gain Lyricist Skill. Can complete all Chants 20% faster.}

{Mentor: Gain 5% bonus to all skills when leading lower level heroes. Allied heroes gain 20% bonus to all skills.}

{Unseen: Gain 20% to all attempts to hide. Gain 10% to all damage and skills while hiding.}

{Banisher: Gain permanent access to the Chant of Garden's Peace. Gain 10% speed and effectiveness for all Chants.}

{Seeker: Gain Ethereal Sense Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.}

{Leader: Gain Inspire Skill. Gain 5% bonus to all skills when leading heroes. Allied heroes gain 10% bonus to all skills.}

{Stubborn: Fatigue lessened by 20%. Wounds heal 10% faster.}

{Whisperer: Gain 10% bonus to minor Chants. Gain 10% bonus to the speed and effectiveness of all Chants.}

{Duelist: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when facing an enemy one on one.}

{Relentless: Fatigue lessened by 15%. Gain 15% bonus to repetitive or familiar activities.}

{Guide: Gain Mapping Skill. Gain 20% bonus to Analysis and Track Skills. Movement speed increases by 10%.}

{Tunneler: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of an underground area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in an underground area.}

{Champion: Gain 20% bonus to all skills and damage when facing a Guardian.}

{Follower: Gain 20% bonus when being led by a higher-level hero.}

{Dungeoneer: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when inside a Dungeon.}

{Stalker: Gain 10% bonus to Tracking, Hide, and Trapping Skills.}

{Scout: Gain 20% to Tracking and Analysis Skills. Gain 10% to all skills when alone.}

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{Weathered: Gain 10% resistance to disease, heat, and cold.}

{Spectral: Gain 20% resistance to ethereal senses.}

{Hiker: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of a hilly area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in a hilly area.}

{Spear Expert: Gain 10% to damage when wielding a spear.}

{Infiltrator: Gain 15% bonus to Hide and Analysis Skills.}

{Slaughterer: Gain 20% damage resistance versus monsters affected by Bane Achievements.}

[Achievements]

{Spiderbane: 30% increase to all skills and damage against spiders. Bonus increases to 60% versus Mantrap Spiderlings, Troll Spiderlings, Mature Mantrap Spiders, Mature Troll Spiders, Elder Troll Spiders, and Elder Mantrap Spiders.}

{Corpsebane: 45% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 90% versus Rotted Levies, Wretched Corporals, Weary Horses, Skeletal Riders, Corpse Hounds, Condemned Foragers, Corpse Birds, Condemned Hunters, Skeletal Scouts, Wretched Sergeants, Wretched Marshals, Condemned Marksmen, and Skeletal Lancers}

{Lizardbane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against lizards. Bonus increases to 30% versus Flame Wretches, Flame Devils, and Flame Horrors.}

{Slimebane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against slimes. Bonus increases to 30% versus Small Ironslimes, Large Ironslimes, and Giant Ironslimes.}

{Swinebane: 45% increase to all skills and damage against swinefolk. Bonus increases to 90% versus Flesh Eaters, Feral Squealers, Wild Smashers, Land Eaters, Feral Shriekers, Wild Crushers, Soul Eaters, Feral Screechers, and Wild Shakers.}

{Paragon: All skills gain 30% effectiveness around fellow heroes.}

{Combat Generalist: Gain Tactician Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all damage in combat.}

{Warrior Poet: Gain 40% bonus to Lyricist Skill. Gain 10% bonus to the speed of all Chants.}

{Unyielding Spirit: Fatigue lessens by 5%. Wounds heal 10% faster. Gain 10% damage resistance.}

{Commander: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when leading a group of heroes. Allied heroes gain a 20% bonus to all skills.}

{Assassin: Gain 40% damage to initial attacks from hiding.}

{Traveler: Gain 10% faster movement speed. Gain additional 15% movement speed in forests, tunnels, and hills.}

Dismissing the words, Clay focused back on Taylor. "So. Were you just waiting here for me to show up?"

The [Artifactor] blinked, surprised out of whatever thoughts her mutterings represented. "I have plenty of other concerns to occupy my time, Sir Clay." Then she paused. "Though I will admit that I was interested in seeing what new mischief you'd turn up. I'm surprised you didn't bring the Novice with you. She didn't seem the type to let you out on your own."

Clay snorted. "Oh, she's around. Don't you worry about her."

Taylor gave him a sharp look. "Oh, is she?" Her voice grew a little louder. "She wouldn't be listening in with a [Chant], would she? That could be considered… impolite among allies."

He chuckled. "I suppose." Clay could only imagine Olivia's reaction. She'd probably had Distant Ear going this whole time, waiting for a signal to either run or try to rescue him. Another reason he was glad Taylor had intervened.

The [Artifactor]'s attention had drifted to the spear over his shoulder, with the spearhead still wrapped in cloth. "Orn was rather upset with you, you know. He heard you went and shattered that work of his that he'd spent so long on."

Clay winced. "An unfortunate result of nearly getting assassinated. Believe me, I was as unhappy as he was."

She shrugged. "He would have started on a new one for you, but the Council requested he wait until you returned."

Another petty delay. Clay sighed. "Well, thank him for me, but it won't be necessary. I have what I need."

"Is that so!" Orn's deep voice made Clay jump a little, and he turned to see the Armsman striding past Sir Abel. His massive bulk made the swordsman seem much, much smaller, and Clay grinned as he noted that his leg and hand once again glowed with symbols of healthy magic. The [Fighter] scowled at Clay and folded his arms across his chest. "Are you so sick of my work now, Sir Clay?"

Clay shook his head. "No, Sir Orn. I've just… happened across some equipment that will work for me."

Orn's eyes narrowed, and his attention turned to the wrapped spear. His lips quirked beneath his dark beard. "So David has been busy, has he? Let me see it, then!"

With another glance at Sir Abel, Clay nodded and unwrapped the weapon. Orn continued in a low grumble as he waited, his false foot tapping on the wet stones. "You know I respect the man, Sir Clay, but he is still a [Commoner]. No matter how much skill and dedication he has, there is only so much he can do with the… materials and… by the gods above!"

The final words came out as a whisper as Clay tugged the last bits of cloth away from the spear and unveiled its blade at last.

It had been forged from plain steel and a haft of oak, something that any village [Smith] would have had access to. The tools involved hadn't been any more special, either; Pellsglade, for all that it had expanded, had no enchanted forges or alchemical baths. David had worked with fire and coal and oil, using only the techniques that he had spent a lifetime honing on everything from farm tools to silverware to weapons.

Yet the results were not the work of just a simple village blacksmith. Not anymore.

The spearhead was a single, lethal piece. It had the same familiar shape of the other boar spears Clay had used; a broad spear blade extended out from a sturdy pair of crossguards. Instead of plain steel, however, the metal had waves and patterns in it. Every edge and point seemed to be capable of cutting the air itself, let alone any armor or flesh foolish enough to stand in its way. Clay knew it was more than appearance, too; he'd tested it on an old set of breastplates and had been slightly intimidated by the results.

Though more subtle, the haft was no less impressive. Its oaken length had been worked and shaped until it was far heavier than it should have been, and far denser as well. Even with his superior [Might], it was like wielding a spear of solid iron rather than wood, and it had deflected axe strikes without a single chip. The cap on the end was that same, hard-forged steel, and was capable of shattering thick wooden doors in a single smashing blow.

All told, it was the kind of weapon that any adventurer would have traded a hand to own, and it had been forged by a 'mere' [Commoner]. Seeing the shock on Orn's face was more than a little satisfying.

Orn stretched a reverent hand out to the spear haft, though he stopped short of touching it. "How? He's a [Commoner]. A truly skilled one, but…" His eyes narrowed, and his hand fell back to his side. "He was at Zelton. David was there when the Lair fell."

Clay nodded slowly. It was one of the more closely guarded secrets of Pellsglade, now. Most of the [Commoners] there hadn't received [Experiences] geared for war; after all, most of them were [Farmers] and tradesmen, not warriors. They had years of artisanry or other work forming the basis of their lives, not desperate battles against monsters.

Which meant that when they gained four levels and eight [Experiences] at once, the results had been…diverse, as had the [Achievements] which had appeared along with them. Sam Evergreen had been an excellent [Farmer] before; now he seemed to be able to speak to the plants and fields directly. Adam, a [Merchant], had gone from persuasive to a bargaining demon of some kind, and David, the dutiful, hardworking [Smith] was now the kind of man who could make miracles in the shape of steel.

It was part of the reason that Clay was grateful to be wearing a cloak over his armor, bow, and knife. A closer inspection might reveal a little too much about what David had equipped him with and provoke a few more pointed questions about why David hadn't come with him to the Guild.

Even as he saw Orn start to ask, however, another figure strode through the rain towards the gate, accompanied by Syr Gertrude. Clay turned to look at the newcomer and smiled as he recognized Sir Richard. He wasn't the most obvious supporter Clay had on the Council, but the man had occasionally been helpful. Olivia had been suspicious of him, warning Clay that Sir Richard obviously had his own agenda, but there were far more hostile members of the Council who could have met him. Syr Marissa or Sir Bartholomew would probably have been the worst, if he had to take a guess.

Sir Richard paused as when he saw Taylor and Orn with Clay. "Syr Taylor, Sir Orn, thank you for welcoming Sir Clay back to the Guild. I believe that you have other duties to attend to."

Orn looked like he was about to protest, but Taylor touched his arm. They both bowed slightly and drifted away through the rain, with Orn giving him a reluctant look back. Clay nodded back, and the Armsman allowed himself to be led away, leaving Clay with just the two door sentries and Sir Richard.

The Councilor turned back to him with a neutral expression. He'd always been a bit inscrutable, even during Clay's early days in the Guild. "Sir Clay. I see you have decided to return to us."

"In a way." Clay grounded the butt of his spear on the cobblestones and smiled. "I know that the Guild and I have had our differences."

Richard tilted his head to the side. "Your continued defiance has been… irksome for the Council and the Guild as a whole. There have been several petitions to have your rank as a peer removed."

Clay shrugged. "The Guild can demote me as they see fit, so long as they don't get in the way of my work."

The Councilor studied him for a moment. He sighed. "And you do not believe that the Council deserves the right to guide your efforts, Sir Clay? You are not the first hero to want to follow their own path. If every adventurer ignored the direction of the Council and pursued their own goals, there would be chaos and catastrophe on all sides. Why should we make an exception for you, among all the others who have fought and sacrificed and died for the cause?"

For a moment, the quiet noise of the falling rain was Richard's only answer. Then Clay shook his head. "The adventurers are not the only ones dying, Sir Richard. Plenty of [Commoners] have lost their lives in this fight as well. Or have you forgotten why Olivia was in Pellsglade? Or why we went to Zelton in the first place?"

Richard's eyes darted to where the sentries were standing, pretending not to listen. "The Guild is required to make hard choices, Sir Clay. Not every decision has an ideal result. Sometimes, there are consequences."

"Then unfortunately, the Council is going to need to recognize that I and the people who follow me are just some of those consequences, Sir Richard." Clay shook his head again. "If anything, they should be glad that I am willing to work with them against our true enemies. I have kept my Oath and done the thing I am supposed to be doing."

The Councilor stepped forward, his eyes wide and blazing with frustration. "You might have done more if you had listened to our guidance!"

Clay snorted. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it would have been one of your regrettable mistakes. Either way, it doesn't matter. I am here now. I want to help. Will you work with me, or against me?"

Richard gave him a sour look. "I believe there's more doubt about whether you intend to work with us, Sir Clay, or if you'll ignore all good sense to chase after your own plans. Why even ask if you do not intend to follow the Council's wisdom? What difference will it possibly make?"

He grimaced. "The difference, Sir Richard, is that I want you not to stab me in the back, while you want to have your boot on my neck. I have no plans of being the Council's training puppet while villages burn and Lairs grow unchecked." Richard's jaw clenched, but before he could respond, Clay sighed. "Honestly, you should accept my offer for what it is. I've defied gods and kings, Sir Richard. What makes you think I'll ever be your pawn?"

Richard blinked. The Councilor stared at Clay for a long moment, his eyes searching Clay's own. Then he nodded, slowly. "I see. So you intend to continue as you have so far?"

He nodded. The Councilor sighed. "Then I see little reason for us to work with you, Sir Clay. What guarantees do we have that you or your [Commoners] won't cause an even worse problem than you claim to be solving?"

Clay spread his arms wide. "Well, Councilor, that's why I'm here." Richard gestured for him to continue, and Clay did so. "I'm just as worried about that problem as you are, honestly. We don't want [Commoners] running around and abusing their power any more than we want adventurers doing it." The Councilor nodded, and Clay continued. "That's why I have brought some of them here. They plan on swearing the Adventurer's Oath, just like I have."

Richard frowned. He didn't seem nearly as pleased as Clay had hoped. "And what will that accomplish?"

"You can be sure that whatever we are running around doing, we'll be fighting monsters and breaking Lairs, not abusing [Chants] or so on." Clay gestured across the river, where the palace rose. "You can also be sure that we won't get snarled up in other people's plans, too. The last thing any of them want is to be thrown away in a war, not when they could be fighting monsters instead."

The Councilor nodded again, his eyes intent. "And in return, you'll agree to… help us when we require it."

Clay paused, weighing his next words carefully. "We'll do that the same way that you work with the [Nobles]. You can ask for help, but we'll ask for support in return. To keep things fair."

Richard smiled a little, as if Clay had told a joke. "Oh, of course." He glanced back at the sentries. "And the [Chants]?"

He grimaced, knowing it wasn't going to be the most well-received point. "We aren't going to stop teaching them, Sir Richard. The most dangerous ones, the combat [Chants] and the Peace, we'll restrict a bit more, but the rest…" Clay shook his head. "It's too late to stuff the wind back into a bottle."

"The ones who learn the Peace. You plan on them all swearing the Oath?" Richard folded his arms, studying Clay. "I believe that Syr Marissa had mentioned that as part of your plan."

Clay nodded. "Yes. That is definitely a requirement—and I plan on supervising each of their first uses of it myself, to make sure nothing goes wrong."

Richard studied him a moment longer, his face carefully blank. "You realize that no one on the Council believes this plan will work. They think that either you'll be killed, or you'll cause some disaster that it will take generations to resolve. At best, they think you'll still squander the lives and opportunities you might have saved if you had just listened to us."

Leaning on his spear, Clay smiled. "Then I suppose they are lucky." Richard gave him a baffled look, and Clay shrugged. "Either I prove them wrong, and they get to enjoy the fruits of my hard work, or I mess up and they get to point at how mistaken I was. They win either way."

The Councilor snorted. He shook his head. "So be it. Bring your applicants to the Guild tomorrow, and we'll allow them to take the trials and the Oath." Clay opened his mouth to protest, and Richard held up a hand to stop him. "The trials are part of the process, Sir Clay. More than that, some of the requirements for rank in the Guild have been…amended… in order to prevent certain perceived abuses."

Clay winced. He'd been hoping that the others would be able to rise straight to peer rank by virtue of gaining a reinforced [Paragon], but apparently the Guild had already seen that loophole and sewed it shut. "I see."

"The Guild also has a few tasks they would appreciate you taking care of." Richard tilted his head to the side a little. "We were not certain what your plans would be, though we are sure you plan on continuing your campaign against Lairs. Attending to these tasks first would go a long way towards assuring us of your goodwill."

With a grimace, Clay gave him a reluctant nod, and Richard continued. "Furthermore, the King has requested that we send you to him when you arrived. Apparently, he wished to speak with you; part of our desire to talk with you was to provide advice on what to say." He paused, a corner of his mouth twitching for a moment. "Then again, you appear more than comfortable dealing with authority at the moment."

Clay swallowed quietly. His last few encounters with agents of the King had not resulted in the friendliest conversations. While he had meant to check on the prison, to make sure the criminals he'd captured were still safely locked away, he had no desire to visit that particular place for a more extended stay. "Do you… know what he wanted to speak about?"

"No." The flat denial had a note of satisfaction and vindication. Something like amusement flickered through the man's eyes for a moment, before his features softened slightly. "Knowing the King, however, he mostly might seek to make sure that there is no truth to the rumors that the Commoner Hero has rebelled against the throne and wishes to rise up against him. Not that I would know where those rumors would come from."

He winced again. "I'll be sure to go once the trials are over. Thank you for letting me know."

Richard sighed. "It is not a problem, Sir Clay. After all, we all wish for the same goal." He shook his head. "I assume your people will need lodging and equipment? Perhaps training? How many are planning on joining us tomorrow?"

Clay shook his head. "No. Only four will be taking the trials tomorrow, and we are fine where we are camped. We certainly have enough food and supplies to reach where we are going."

The Councilor's eyes narrowed incredulously. His gaze shifted to Clay's spear for just a moment, and Richard paused in surprise. Genuine shock filtered through his guarded expression, and his head turned to look back to where Orn had vanished.

Then he looked back at Clay, his eyes once again sharp as he studied the [Commoner]. "Of course, we also hope that you continue to share whatever… interesting things you might find. For the good of the Guild and all adventurers, of course."

Clay gave him a broad smile. "Of course, Sir Richard." Then he gestured for the man to continue. "So. Why don't you tell me about these tasks?"

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