The tavern was warmer than usual that night. Miss Jane had claimed the long table near the hearth before the regulars could take it, shooing away a pair of card players with a look that brooked no argument. By the time Miri and Tamsin came downstairs, the table was already covered in food.

  Thick stew. Crusty bread. Roasted root vegetables glazed in honey. A platter of sliced venison. Two pitchers of dark beer sweating onto the wood.

  Tony settled heavily beside the table, tail curled around one leg of Grath’s chair like it belonged there. Grath did not comment. He did, however, set down a leather satchel the size of a small child.

  “For the road,” he said.

  Miri blinked. “That’s… excessive.”

  “It is not.”

  He opened the satchel and began transferring items directly into her inventory with methodical efficiency.

  [ Guild Provisions Added: ]

  – Dehydrated Field Rations (80 Uncommon servings)

  – Concentrated Healing Draughts x 6

  – Concentrated Mana Draughts x 6

  – Emergency Antidote Kit x 2

  "I brought you Uncommon rations. Hunting should be good, but I know women can be squeamish—" Grath winced. Neither Miri or Tamsin wanted to skin animals, so they stayed silent. "So I got you the good stuff. Most of these are Miss Jane's recipes."

  That got their attention. Jane's stew and a campfire at the end of the day was just as good as a healing draught.

  “These,” Grath said, tapping one of the dark glass vials before it vanished into her inventory, “are not casual drinks.”

  Tamsin nodded. “Long cooldown. Brutal hangover.”

  “How brutal?” Miri asked.

  “Headache. Nausea. Mana instability,” Tamsin replied. “You’ll feel like you swallowed a thunderstorm.”

  Miri grimaced. “Great.”

  “Use only if you would otherwise die,” Grath finished calmly. “Or fail the mission.”

  Tony huffed quietly, as if in agreement. Miss Jane poured beer into heavy mugs and passed them around. Even Tony got a shallow bowl of watered broth, which he accepted with dignified enthusiasm.

  “To safe roads,” Jane said, raising her mug.

  “To safe returns,” Tamsin amended.

  Grath simply nodded. Miri clinked her mug against theirs. For a while, it was just food and warmth and the easy quiet of people who had decided they liked one another.

  Then Miri cleared her throat. “So,” she said. “Warder.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Grath leaned back slightly, chair groaning beneath him. “They specialize in containment,” he said. “Seals. Boundaries. Stabilizing magical structures.”

  “Wards,” Miri said slowly.

  “Yes,” Tamsin replied. “Protective fields around towns. Reinforced doorways. Anti-scrying measures. Dungeon locks. Prison circles.”

  “Anything that needs to stay put,” Grath added.

  Miri frowned slightly. “And if a ward fails?” The warmth of the room dimmed just a fraction.

  “It depends what the ward was holding,” Tamsin said carefully.

  Miss Jane topped off Miri’s beer. “Helmsworth’s outer wards are old,” she said. “Very old. Maintained regularly, of course. But old.”

  “Old wards require experienced hands,” Grath said. “High-level warders do not travel lightly. If one is being sought urgently…” He let the thought trail off.

  Miri’s stomach tightened.

  “But,” Tamsin cut in lightly, “it could be routine. Reinforcement. Inspection. Upgrading crystal matrices.”

  “Quartz deposits like ours require careful tuning,” Jane added. “Too much magical pressure in one place and things… misbehave.”

  Miri glanced at Tony. “Misbehave how?”

  “Cracks in the lattice,” Grath said. “Mana distortion. Unstable effects.”

  “Nothing dramatic,” Tamsin added quickly. “Not if handled properly.”

  Miri leaned back, absorbing it. “So warders are magical engineers,” she said.

  “Yes,” Tamsin replied. “Engineers who work with invisible architecture.”

  “And they’re rare,” Grath said. “Because it takes patience.”

  Miss Jane laughed. “And nobody brags about having the strongest load-bearing rune.”

  Tony thumped his tail once against the floorboards. Miri looked around the table.

  Grath’s steady presence.

  Tamsin’s composed focus.

  Miss Jane’s warm eyes.

  Tony’s massive, ridiculous bulk pressed against her leg.

  Two weeks ago she had been alone. Now she had… this. And she was going to leave it behind.

  “It’s just a month,” Tamsin said quietly, catching her expression.

  “More or less,” Grath added.

  “Less,” Miss Jane insisted firmly. “You’ll be back before I can rotate the summer ales.”

  Miri swallowed the unexpected tightness in her throat. “We’ll be fine,” she said, mostly to herself.

  Grath studied her for a long moment. “Remember what we discussed,” he said evenly. “You are not built to absorb everything alone.”

  She nodded. Tony lifted his head and placed it heavily on her thigh. “I’m not alone,” she replied. Tamsin smiled faintly.

  They lingered longer than they meant to.

  Another round of beer. A story from Miss Jane about a visiting bard who tried to juggle enchanted cutlery and lost a fork to the ceiling beams. A memory from Tamsin about the Western Marches and how the wind sounded through the high trees.

  Eventually, the fire burned lower. Chairs scraped and Grath stood first. “Dawn,” he said simply. Tamsin rose with him and they headed out for the night.

  Miss Jane squeezed Miri’s shoulder. “You always have a room,” she said. “You and your overgrown cat.” Tony made a low, pleased rumble.

  Miri looked around one last time.

  Warm hearth.

  Comfort food.

  Familiar faces.

  Home.

  A home worth protecting.