[FELIX POV]
"So what is Greyridge like?"
Rowan looked at Cedric in disbelif.
Cedric shrugged.
"Yes,Janice already filled me in about the place we are going to, but to pass the time, why not get a first-hand account from one of the best of Greyridge?
Rowan immediately sat up strsighter and spoke in full leture mode.
Really that worked?
"Well, since you asked so nicely, Grayridge sits right on the edge of the Blackroot Forest, so it's mainly a trading hub, surrounded by low-level dungeons. Since a lot of first-year students and fresh adventurers flock here to start their lives, it could also be called the town of beginnings. Honestly, you might end up coming back here yourself once you're an Academy student."
So, it's like a starting town in games.
"Because there's always a steady stream of adventurers passing through, Grayridge's one of the best-guarded towns around, so well protected, in fact, that even the cult doesn't bother causing trouble here. Makes it easy for merchants to set up shop without losing sleep."
Rowan puffed out his chest, grinning with unmistakable pride —like a six-year-old showing off a prized toy.
"And as for us? we're heading to a low-level forest dungeon—mostly forest-type beasts, Rank F with a slight drift into Rank E, perfect for a bit of rehabilitation but total overkill for an adventurer of my calibre, but hey, the duke paid well."
I bristle at that, but before I could even make a sound, Cedric interrupted
"Who governs the region?"
"Oh, that'd be Governor Fenholt," Rowan says easily, waving a hand as if the answer is obvious.
"Bit of a soft old fox, if you ask me—but a clever one, mainly just keeps the peace, the roads clean, and the monsters where they belong. And yeah, skims a little off the top—doesn't everyone? —but nothing too outrageous, though, it's just mostly done to remind people who's in charge, and he's smart enough to know his place in the peking order, and that alone earns him my respect."
Cedric blinked.
"How do you know so much? Who exactly are you in the city?"
Rowan straightens up at this question.
"Me? I am just an independent adventurer of humble A-rank," he bragged.
"Only difference is I have no noble leash binding, and no guild to babysit—just me, my spear, and my reputation of one of the strongest you will ever see. I take jobs that sound fun, pay well, or keep my hometown standing, sometimes all three if I'm lucky."
RRRRrr—
I could not help myself with his humble bragging.
Rowan glances down, then turns to Cedric.
"Did he just growl at me?"
"Yes"
"Well, he is rude."
By nightfall, the carriage slows as the gates of the city come into view.
"Ah," Rowan says brightly. "We're here."
Cedric turned to look at me as he spoke.
"Felix, we have arrived at the Greyridge. For your safety, we must conceal your presence from the guards and others, so I need you to lie low. It's only for a little while. When we reach a secure area, I will open it again"
RRRRrr—
I grumbled, but what is the point? I am already committed to this.
Reluctantly, I put my snout back into the bag as I crouched down, and the runes stitched into the satchel hum faintly. I can feel them blur me, like I'm smudged at the edges of reality, not quite something the eye wants to focus on.
Colour me impressed.
[CEDRIC POV]
The gates of Grayridge rise into view an hour later.
Stone walls reinforced with mana-etched plating. Guard towers every hundred paces. Runes flare faintly along the archway—detection wards, threat assessment arrays, anti-beast alarms.
The runes in the satchel pulse gently, dampening his presence.
Rowan hopped down first from the carriage and turned to us.
"Gate's here, let me do the talking."
Then he sauntered up to the gate as if he owned it.
"Afternoon, Sergeant Bram!" Rowan says brightly.
"Miss me?"
The guard squints, then breaks into a grin.
"Rowan," Bram laughs. "I thought you were dead."
"Please," Rowan scoffs. "If death wants me, it'll have to work harder."
Bram's gaze slid to me.
"And who's this?"
Rowan doesn't miss a beat.
"My cousin," he says smoothly. "Ced Vale. Came down from the capital to see what real dirt looks like."
My face twitches at the nickname, while I could feel the bag tremble with laughter.
There goes my image as a respected master.
"Nice to meet you, Sergeant Bram"
Bram looked me up and down.
"You don't look like an adventurer."
"It's my first time adventuring"
Rowan slaps Bram on the shoulder.
"Be nice. He's delicate."
Bram laughs, waving them through.
"It is a good this you came before curfew sets in"
Rowan's eyes narrowed at the mention of curfew.
"Curfew? Since when does Greyridge have curfew?"
Bram shrugged.
"Have no idea, I just received orders from higher-ups to increase security and verify all entries into the city, been a real pain for all parties involved, mainly the merchants who get their goods delivered at odd times by new faces"
But what happened for security to increase suddenly?
At the same time, Rowan spoke.
"What happened?"
"Word is that the cult activity's been twitchy lately. So, keep your nose clean and don't start any trouble"
Rowan grins.
"No promises."
As the carriage rolls through, I exhale in relief.
The city opens up around them—wide streets, glowing shop signs, layered smells of food, iron, leather, and magic. People move with purpose but without fear. Adventurers laugh loudly. Merchants haggling in loud voices while children dart between stalls.
Rowan took a deep breath.
"Home sweet home."
"It does feel more… I mean less ridged than other places I have been to"
"That's the charm," Rowan said.
"Come on, World Famous Inn is this way."
[FELIX POV]
The bag opens again
I blink as my eyes adjust to the new lights.
The city is enormous.
Not just big—loud and my new senses picked up everything, every sound overlaps with another: boots striking stone, wheels creaking, voices calling out prices and insults in equal measure. The air is thick with smells—smoke, oil, roasted meat, damp leather, iron, and something faintly sweet I can't identify.
Cedric carries me carefully, one hand steadying the bag like he's transporting something fragile.
Which… annoyingly… I am.
We stop beneath a building that looks like it's been arguing with gravity for years and somehow winning. The wooden beams are thick and dark, scarred by age rather than rot. Iron brackets reinforce the corners, and a wide sign creaks overhead as it sways gently in the evening breeze.
The Iron Acorn.
The sign depicts exactly what it sounds like: a massive acorn wrapped in iron bands, cracked down the middle like it's survived a war and come back stronger.
Rowan looked up at it and grinned.
"Still standing. That's a good sign."
Cedric pauses, his expression composed, but somehow betraying shock and disbelief.
"Here?"
I smirked at his reaction.
Of course, the son of a duke would react like that; he probably never had to learn the difference between comfort and livable.
As an orphan, I'd spent a stretch of my life where just having a roof over my head was a luxury and comfort was a dream. So, seeing Cedric hesitate now? It sparks a savage, petty satisfaction.
Rowan, thinking the same thing, turned and smiled devilishly.
"Yes, Your Lordship, the best ale and the worst rooms with the added advantage of being very discreet"
Reluctantly, Cedric stepped in.
No sooner than the warmth hit us than Rowan crowed to the woman behind the counter.
"Talia, my favourite tyrant! Miss me?"
Behind the counter, Talia, the matron of the inn, stood with her sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back in a no-nonsense knot. Her posture says she's been running this place longer than most people have been alive—and that she's not impressed by much.
She snorts.
"You owe for three nights last time."
"I almost died. Emotional trauma discounts apply."
"Get out of my face."
Cedric clears his throat politely.
"We'll need two rooms. Quiet."
Talia eyes him.
"You don't look like one of Rowan's usual disasters."
"I try to avoid being one"
She smirks.
"That'll change."
She tosses him a key.
"Same rules as always. No fighting inside, no bleeding on the stairs, and if you need any food, I charge extra."
Rowan waves, "See you later, Talis"
[Later, in the room]
Cedric sat on the bed and opened the satchel.
As soon as I stepped outside the satchel, outside the runes' boundary, pain lanced through my body.
Cedric turned to me, his expression stoic
"Just one more day, Felix, you'll feel better tomorrow"
Rrrrrrkkkk-
Reluctantly, I stayed in the satchel.
"So," Cedric says to Rowan. "Tomorrow."
Rowan hops onto a chair backwards. "Tomorrow, we head into Blackroot. Entry Point Seven. Easy access trail, good visibility, no nasty surprises unless we're unlucky."
"Forest-type beasts?" Cedric asks.
"Mostly," Rowan replies. "Rank F, couple of Rank E strays that didn't get the memo to stay in their lane."
Cedric nods. "It should be safe for Felix, right?"
"As safe as anything with teeth," Rowan says cheerfully.
Cedric hesitates, then asks, "If you don't mind the questions, what is your familiar?"
"My beast?"
"Yes"
Rowan laughs.
"Oh, I don't have one."
"But you're A-rank warrior."
"Exactly," Rowan replies. "Most commoners don't bother. Too much effort. Feeding, contracts, maintenance. And honestly? A beast just slows me down."
I stiffen.
"If I need scouting, I'll do a temporary contract at the Beast Guild. Same as most non-nobles. Quick, clean, no emotional baggage."
No emotional baggage.
I feel something sour twist inside me.
Rowan shrugs.
"Besides, for most of the opponents I'm up against, a beast can't help me"
RRRRrr—
Cedric glanced at me, then sighed.
"Well, that got a comment from him."
Rowan grins. "Yeah. He's got opinions."
I hate him.
But… damn it, he is kind of cool.
Tomorrow, I hunt.
And I don't know which thought terrifies me more—that I'll fail…
Or that I won't.
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AN: What did you guys think of the chapter? Comment, review, and gift power stones.