In barely any time at all I come upon the first view of the walls, the dwarves having truly outdone themselves when they built Grimnorn. Imposing grey stone juts out of the mountainside as if grown from the earth itself. An implacable melding of precision utility and natural grace guarding the entrance to the only land pass from the Draakir lands to the Skypeaks empire. An awe-inspiring sight in the fading light of dusk. Massive three masted ships sail in and out from the harbor cove formed by the fortifications spilling out into the ocean, a wooden tide of goods that ebbs and flows. Gazing at the exquisite craftsmanship once filled me with awe, I wish it still did.

  Sparse trees dot along rocky ground north of the road, the Ice Talon Forest spreading out to reach toward the coastline in the backdrop of the mountain’s edge. It stops at the city walls that separates it from the coast, much like the fortress splits the land between the two countries. Ocean, mountain, and land all converge on Grimnorn as if drawn to it.

  I press onward to the imposing arch cut into the stone which grants entrance to the keep, the sharp metal spikes of the gate’s maw poised to drop with gnashing teeth against any would-be intruder. Heavily armored guards in the dark crimson tabards of the city watch stand vigilant on either side of the opening, their eyes tracking me as I approach.

  “State your business traveler.” The dwarven man asks with an edge of hostile suspicion, the dwarven woman next to him peering over with professional disinterest.

  Surprisingly hostile for… being approached by a fully armored and armed person alone on the road. I’ve done this to myself then.

  “Headed to Rivermill, I’ve only recently acquired a class and wish to join the Adventurer’s guild.” I respond, dredging up the remnants of pleasantries from my time as an apprentice receiving client orders.

  “Ugh, another one of you then.” The dwarf's face twists in disgust like he bit a rotten fruit while his fellow guard casts a simple looking ritual spell on me.

  “Level two Valkyrie, Eliza Maughth Miirx. Noble then.” She arches a brow, but remains otherwise unfazed. “Story appears legitimate, go on through.”

  Fortunately the woman doesn’t hold the same vitriol for adventurers as her companion and waves me on. I can practically feel the visceral disdain from him as I pass by, but I don’t let it bother me. Given the rumours of the Rivermill adventurer’s guild it’s likely a warranted reaction.

  Passing into the town is crossing a gateway into another realm, one of delicately crafted details carved in stone and metal. Iron sconces line the paved streets, gentle flames reflecting off the intricate steel, copper, and bronze signs. The familiar scent of metal polish mixes in the salty breeze, stinging my nose sharp and cold. In all my previous trips here I’d been desperate to explore the staggered rows of buildings climbing up the steep mountain side, hunting for wondrous crafts hidden away in small alley shops. There were always new treasures to find, new inventions to see.

  But I have much more important tasks to take care of and no time left for flights of fancy.

  With the sun beginning to set I’ll need to find lodging, it may be a short distance to Rivermill from here but the night brings increased danger I may not be prepared to face. I head to the docks first, to check in on the cheaper lodgings. I’ll make an effort to avoid the worst of the lot, but it may not be a luxury I can afford.

  Winding stone steps descend into the cove area, a vast crescent of rock acting as a shore on which houses and piers rest. The bustle of sailors loading and unloading crates of cargo continues busily even as the evening heads toward night. I dodge wagons hauling goods toward the large wooden lifts that transport them out of the cove. An army of torches illuminates the area otherwise cast in shadow by the carved stone ceiling above as I search for any signs of lodging in the fire light.

  A waste of time as it turns out, each location turning me away from lack of vacancy. I tried the inns with taverns first, not expecting any openings at the popular locations, but even the seediest lodgings were filled up. There must have been a dozen places that I visited and not a single one had a room available. I couldn’t even plead for a simple roof in a stable or shed as even those were already in use.

  Nothing, there’s absolutely nothing.

  As if the docks had not been demoralizing enough, the main parts of town and even the pricier districts were the same. Over and over I was turned away, becoming increasingly desperate as the time wore on. When I finally found a single opening, my patience was nearing its limit and yet there was no relief to be had.

  “Five gold for a single night!?” I exclaim in surprise, the words rumbling scratchily from my tired throat. The squirrelly harpy man flinches at the sound, his ledger lifting up as if to shield him from me as he sits on the desk across from me in the guest receiving room. The shine of silver and lacquered wood are a match for the opulent price.

  “Y-yes well, the Silverquill is a rather prestigious inn. O-our accommodations are fit for nobility.” He stutters out fearfully.

  Does he think I’m threatening him? It’s the armor isn’t it…

  “I’m aware, I was simply surprised.” Sighing as my last hope for a room burns up like tinder, something I should have expected from a busy port city. I hadn’t expected to stay here in the first place, but my crossing was more eventful than I’d planned for. With the dwindling light, my options are quickly narrowing; either pay the exorbitant price or risk traveling at night. After the recent frustration my mind is leaning toward leaving solely out of irritation, but I’d best at least consider my choices.

  How dangerous was this region again? Worst case would be an Ash Scavenger, but those are extremely rare and not immediately lethal. More likely would be another goblin band which won’t pose much threat with my equipment, and I do have darkvision.

  I lean against the wall outside the pricey inn, taking a moment to weigh the benefits against the risks of leaving.

  Considering that a one gold quest reward at this level is usually a coin toss for death, I think I’ll take a small risk for five.

  With my course decided, I hurry along toward the north exit of town hoping to preserve what little is left of the setting sun. It's both a long walk and far too short to the north gate entrance, but my luck holds as the guards don’t bother stopping me. I cross through a gate identical to the one I entered from, exiting into a wide expanse of plains. The verdant green of the southern coastline bleeds into endless gold spreading north through Skypeaks territory. The Frostwyrm Mountains loom large beside me, a barrier cutting me off from the land I called home for so many years and trapping me in a country I’d long since escaped from.

  There’s no use lingering around the gate so I break into a steady march along the dirt roadway. Stalks of tall grass sway in the gentle breeze, the only movement for miles in the open area; no trees or large boulders or deep crevasses for monsters to hide in.

  I shouldn’t get complacent, something will surely strike when I let my guard down.

  A blur of ashy blue smashes into my side, needle teeth scraping with awful screeches across my armor as we’re brought into a rolling tumble along the ground. Sharpened claws flash and hammer, a frenzy of vicious assault that twists at the joints and bruises my muscles. My gauntlet fist pounds desperately against the side of its skull in repeated hollow thumps, my mind honing into a singular focus as I activate Battle Trance.

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  No longer a frenzy, now a well rehearsed series of motions in perfect clarity. The full path of force passing through the beast's muscle is obvious as is the predictable end result. Its right claw comes down in a blur, my hand shooting out to grip it with crushing force before it can pull away. Shifting to my back with feet pulled up and planted on its chest, its flailing arm slamming down on my helmet. I strain the muscles in my legs to their fullest to kick the monster away, releasing my grip to let the foul thing soar into a rolling crash.

  Before it can recover I’m on my feet and sprinting to my poleaxe, the hoarse screech and ripping dirt closing in behind me. I dive for the weapon and spin around in time to impale the leaping creature as it launches itself into the sharp speartip. It rips itself off with a jerk spraying sludgy blood across my face, viciously clawing toward me despite the gaping wound. A titanic flex of my back and arms slams the flat of the weapon into its face, swatting it away with a sickening crack of the skull.

  It’s enough to make the creature re-evaluate its chances as it tears up the ground in a flip, lunging away from me toward the tall grass of the plains. I refuse to let it escape, feeling the instant it makes it thirty feet as I activate Sudden Charge and become a blur of furious metal. It makes it one step into the grass before my poleaxe pierces the back of its neck up into the skull.

  I immediately drop my Battle Trance to preserve my remaining usage, the drawback coating my brain in molasses. Yet I have no time to celebrate, not if I want to avoid whatever else was drawn in by our fight. Pure adrenaline is still flowing through my veins as I break into a run.

  HP 10 / 26

  Ash Scavenger, because of course it would be. Anything else you want to send!? Tear a rift to the hells under me maybe!? Come here and spit in my face where I can see you coward!

  If I imagine fate as a person at least it will have a face for me to punch.

  I continue sprinting down the road, an ocean of tall grass blurring past. Ominous blood red light spills shadows across my path, danger and death hidden in the depths of plant stalks. My grip and heart both tighten at every swaying movement, wind or monster, It’s a gamble I can’t afford to guess at. Stones litter the path, rolled down from the mountainside and waiting in ambush for the press of an unsteady foot.

  The heavy armor weighs me down, growing ever heavier as the minutes drag on, what remains of the sun flickering out on the horizon. I’m not worried about my vision, I worry for the boldness nights brings to the beasts. It matters not if a weakness exists, only that they believe it does. Sweat stings my overtaxed eyes and air burns with each breath, my muscles are begging me to relent.

  Light.

  It glows like hope in the distance only to be snuffed out by shadowed movement ahead. Not an illusion brought about in the half-light, but a clawed form of promised violence. I’m a metal arrow fired in desperation, spearing through the chest of the surprised beast aided by both Battle Trance and Sudden Charge. Before it can comprehend the sudden impalement I pour everything I am into a swing on which hinges my mortal fate, flinging the monster back into the shadows. Without a second of hesitation I burst forward, resuming my mad sprint, praying to all the divines that my ambush was enough deterrent.

  When my body crosses the short wooden fenceline that marks the start of cleared land I stumble, my exhausted legs having seized at the faintest hint of relief. With monumental effort I impress my will on the battered appendages, forcing them to move forward until I can collapse against a stone walled dwelling to catch my breath.

  Hammering heartbeats slow to gentle thumps as I force cool night air into my wheezing lungs. Fields of crops spread out all around me in even rows of cleared land, the immediate danger of attack lessened but not fully erased.

  When does the dragon show up to eat me? Hopefully it's red, that would be some consolation at least.

  The soft burble of a running river and steady creak of wooden waterwheels whisper seductively of pleasant slumber. My eyelids grow heavy in the sudden calm and for a moment I contemplate giving in, but my last ember of stamina remaining is enough to fight back sleep’s siren song. I persist, climbing to my feet with the speed and grace of an ancient treant, shambling forward to my destination. Each waist high wall of stacked stone I pass marks my slow progress until I take the first step onto the sturdy wooden bridge that separates the farmland from town proper. An embossed metal sign guides me to an Inn seated on the waterfront just across the river, the details of the building eluding me in my foggy haze. Time skips forward in bursts and I find myself face down on a bed, unwilling and unable to remove my armor before sleep takes me.

  Bright lights pierce through my closed eyes with burning rays as my slowly igniting brain catches a whiff of sweat stained cloth cooked inside a metal suit.

  Ugh, that’s foul.

  I roll over in the bed, sitting up to the great displeasure of my sore muscles, and stretch the rust off my bones with an enormous yawn. My body feels like the neglected hinges of an ancient crypt door, creaking and scratching with each movement. I survey the room with bleary eyes as I haul my heavy body to its feet.

  Soft rays of morning light shine through the small window overlooking the Frostwing River, reflecting off the obsidian black adamant of my armor. A small polished dresser rests against the deep brown wood wall of the room, the space large enough to swing my poleaxe in without hitting anything. It’s quarters fit for an empress in comparison to the last lodging, a small part of me hoping it was not priced for royalty as well.

  The door creaks softly as I exit, no squeaky hinges or rotting wood in sight. A short hallway greets me, my room the closest to the waters edge and a half dozen doors down from the main area. Shuffling into the front area I'm greeted by the pleasant scent of baked bread and smoked meat, the quiet chatter of seated patrons making for a quaint atmosphere. Chandeliers of oak and candle hang unlit and out of reach above the open space, unneeded as the bright light of day floods in from broad open windows.

  “Good mornin’ miss Maughth Miirx, would ya be eatin’ wit us today?”

  A soft voice with an accent I can't place calls out to me. The owner of which is a rather thin male drow with a single braid of silver hair slung over his front shoulder. wearing a white apron and red checkered headscarf. His smile is warm and the atmosphere he gives off disarming, it takes the edge off hearing the dual name referral that designates me a minor noble in the empire.

  “Cloth and washbin, thanks.” I respond in the scratchy rumble of my waking voice. His smile cracks a bit at my request, but recovers just as quickly.

  Must I paint a smile on my helmet to let people know I'm friendly?

  “I can fetch those fer ya right ‘way!” He responds hastily, giving a small bow before vanishing off to a room behind the front counter. I watch silently as he returns only a moment later on shaky legs carrying a large wood tub. He manages to wobble his way over to me before the weight pulls him off his feet, saved from crashing by a swift grab from me snagging him and the basin in an arm each.

  “T-thank ya miss.” He squeaks out with a furious blush on his cheeks. I release the stammering man as he steadies himself, giving me a quick bow before scampering away in a hurry.

  Haah, I hope I didn't scare him too much.

  Outside the inn, fresh water rushes down from the mountain side feeding into the river and turning several large wheels attached to mills along the edge. Retrieving the water is as simple as dipping the basin in and holding tight to keep it from washing away. With my exceptional strength I’m able to carry the full tub back to my room in one trip, feeling only minor twinges of pain from my sore muscles. What takes far longer is unlocking the latches that hold each piece of armor together, my tired mind betraying my fingers' dexterity. I can almost hear Sierri’s voice making jokes about me fumbling with her clasps.

  I remove my sweatstained tunic and leggings then dip the cloth I received into the ice cold water. Shuddering from the freezing touch, I quickly wipe down the dirt and grime off my body before taking a deep breath and plunging my head into the tub. My teeth chatter as I wring the water out from my hair, but as I go to wrap myself in the bed’s blanket I realize it’s stained with dried gore from my armor.

  Should have thought about that before freezing my tail off with river water.

  Washing and wringing out my clothes and bedding helps cut through the chill and I hang my outfit from the dresser then lie down to bask in the warmth of the sunlight coming in through the window. That felt…ordinary. It surprises me how much a simple bath and laundry could help ease my troubles. Everything has been such a whirlpool of chaos dragging me below the waves, whenever I look toward the future for grounding all I see is a bottomless chasm threatening to swallow me whole.

  Has this journey been yet another mistake? I truly don’t know, but turning back now seems like an even worse decision. What would you do, Sierri? I feel so lost, I wish I could ask.