Over the last three and a half weeks, Maren had grown accustomed to life on the road. The first two weeks had tricked her body into not caring about the aches that multiple days’ constant walking forced upon her ankles and knees. Those old pains, however, were nothing in comparison to the grievances her leg muscles cried out now.

Sure, whenever Maren had worked out when she’d been in Radiant Dawn, she’d focused on her lower body more than her upper. Whenever it came time for martial arts training, Maren centered her primary attacking style on kicking. So she figured working out with Mav wouldn’t be that great a difference.

In hindsight, beginning her training the day after she’d run a mile uphill might have been a bad idea. Granted, necessity during the chaos at CC Corp’s mine facility had kept her moving that night, but it didn’t take long for the adrenaline to fade and for unrelenting discomfort to replace it.

Still, she tried not to complain. Even if her heart didn’t want to admit it, her brain understood that waking up earlier than she was used to and working out with Mav was only going to make her stronger.

At least, that was what she’d told herself as she finished what felt like her hundredth squat.

“Not bad,” Mav said. “Your form was getting a little rough in the end, though.”

Mav stood along the side of the road they were traveling on, wearing nothing but a short pair of workout shorts. Though unruly, his hair was completely dry and not a drop of sweat dewing his sculpted arms and shoulders. The only evidence he’d exerted himself was his slightly labored breathing, which puffed out small wisps in the nearly-freezing winter air and moved his pecs and abs that basically gleamed in the early morning sunlight.

Meanwhile, Maren’s legs wobbled and she lurched. Throwing her arms to the side, Maren made a sudden step toward the fall and planted her foot onto the ground, catching herself. It took another moment for her to attempt standing straight again. Her legs were heavier now that her sweat pants were soaked with their namesake, as was her upper body burdened by the thick coat over her. An hour ago they were the only things keeping her from the cold, but now they threatened to make her life miserable with how wet and heavy they were.

“But I did it,” Maren breathed, bending down to rest her hands on her knees.

Mav opened his mouth, then closed it as he glanced away. Looked like he’d wanted to act the coach, but thought better of it.

Maren could understand the hesitation. Their first week together had been a little rough, to say the least. Maren was certain Mav didn’t want to offend her and risk starting another snippy argument. However, the largest factor for their previous disagreement had been caused by Maren’s fear to communicate. It wouldn’t be right to hold things back, even if it was easier to do so.

Still, a part of Maren wanted to avoid the conversation entirely, so despite that portion begging not to, Maren said, “Whatever you want to say, you can say it. I won’t mind.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Mav said, scratching the back of his head.

“Mav,” Maren said.

“It’s alright. I want to workout with you, but I’m not your sergeant. I shouldn’t talk to you like I am.”

His hand had returned to his side as he spoke. Maren sighed in relief, smirking a little. Good thing she’d spoken up, because this was such an easy conversation.

“Look,” Maren began, “I appreciate you respecting my authority as the guild’s leader. But you did train as a Peace Keeper for two years. You know a lot more about this kind of stuff than I do.”

“But you lived at Radiant Dawn for…” Mav’s mouth moved and it appeared he was counting, “thirteen years. You even said you trained a lot. So you still know a lot of stuff.”

“Most guild-training isn’t as intense as Peace-Keeper training. If there’s something you know that I may not, share it. If I know it, I’ll just tell you afterwards.”

Mav raised an eyebrow, which hid it entirely behind his mop of hair. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“If you find your form slipping, stop. It’s better to do less reps that are good than finish a set poorly. Doesn’t help your muscles much and it risks you getting injured.”

Maren blinked. Sure, she had heard this before, many times, back at Radiant Dawn by her instructors, but it wasn’t this repeat of information that gave her pause. In casual interactions, Mav’s tone was light and jovial. Even when working out Mav sounded more the encouraging fan rooting for his favorite fighter than someone with a critical eye. And despite the fact that Maren had heard him sound severe in the middle of a fight or tense situation, he’d never spoken so seriously during a stress-free situation.

He almost sounded like Koda: professional and deliberate with his words, as all Peace Keepers were told to be. Very much unMav-like.

“You’ve heard that before, haven’t you?” Mav said.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I have,” Maren said, looking away. “But it’s probably something I should hear again. I… always ignored it back at Radiant Dawn.”

“Ah, I see,” Mav said, crossing his arms. He appeared almost frightening with that intense look, but then his usual bright gleam returned to his eyes. “Looks like we’ll just have to break you of that habit.”

“That’s going to be hard work, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely!”

Maren’s forced smile twitched and she gave a half-hearted, “Yay.”

“Awesome! Now, let’s get back to the tents so I can make us some breakfast!”

“Now that’s what I want to hear!”

Maren went to run back to the tents, which thankfully were only a couple hundred feet away, before her legs promptly reminded her that they were, in fact, in agony and refused to move. Her body compromised and had her faceplant into the grass.

“You good?” Mav asked.

“Nothing’s wounded but my pride,” Maren said.

“Want me to carry you back?”

“And wound it even further? Heavens no!”

Mav chuckled and took a few steps, then turned around. “So… you coming?”

“I’m just enjoying nature.” Maren closed her eyes and stretched her fingers over the grass.

As they were still in central Neirea, everything around them was was verdant or lively as if it were spring: the grass, the nearby forests, the colorful wildflowers. Even in the dead of winter, the landscape of central Neirea always flourished, which currently the inverse of how Maren felt at the moment.

“Alright, suit yourself,” Mav said. His footsteps sounded again, growing quieter. “Looks like I’ll just have to eat your portion of breakfast.”

Maren’s eyes sprung open and her head swung until she glared at Mav’s back. “You wouldn’t dare?”

Mav glanced back, grinning. “Oh? Then get back to camp before I’m done, or else you’ll find out the hard way.”

Then he ran to the tents.

Bastard. Though, Maren smiled as she struggled to her feet and hobbled to the tents.

“Feeling any better?” Mav asked.

“A little,” Maren said. “Stretching and eating really helped.”

Mav kept an eye on her as she made her way along the side of the road. ‘Walking’ didn’t seem the right word, with her jerking motions and grimaced face, but ‘hobbling’ would’ve been too far in the other direction. Mav had seen Maren hobble after a workout before, just a couple days ago. This was already leagues better than then, however it would take a while for Maren’s muscles to get used to the constant work of Mav’s training regimen.

Still, these last several days after the Eonok incident had been nice. Working out with a partner and then eating to commemorate the training brought Mav back to his days with his cohort in the Peace Keepers. Days of stress, sure, but also of support and siblinghood. Days he’d missed in the first week on the road with Maren.

“Not that my pace is evidence of it,” Maren said.

Mav took long, slow steps to match her not-quite-a-walk-not-quite-a-hobble gait. It wasn’t something he’d needed to do their first week together as – even though Mav’s stride was naturally longer due to him being much taller than Maren – since she had always been able to keep up no problem.

In comparison to the fun he’d been having over the last several days, however, slowing his pace was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“I don’t care,” Mav said. “I’m not in a rush.”

“I mean, we kind of are,” Maren said, watching a single car drive past them, toward their destination. “We only have twenty-one days to find a third member.”

“True, but a Wielder will either be at our next stop, or they won’t,” Mav said.

“But if our next stop doesn’t have a Wielder, then the quicker we get there, the quicker we can get to a place with a Wielder.”

“It’s still not bad to take our time and enjoy the sights,”

Maren appeared to chew on the interior of her cheek, then sighed. “Sure. And it’s not like we’re far from Cir, anyway.”

Mav had never heard the name until yesterday, when they’d found themselves at a crossroads in the middle of a field. A small sign pointed toward several directions and displayed the name, in large bold font, of the nearest major city, while just beneath it in smaller font listed several smaller villages along the way. As they were heading toward Yoularnon, the closest major city to the west, that meant they would pass through the tiny town of Cir.

What should have taken only a long day’s hike turned into a couple-day venture, but like Mav had said, he really didn’t mind. Walking on the path which ran alongside the road, sleeping in his tent nightly, and working out in the morning followed by a hearty breakfast had brought him a nice familiarity in this novel situation he’d found himself in.

“So there’s nothing to worry about,” Mav said, leaning back and resting his hands behind his head. “We’ll get to Cir, do a job or two. If there’s a Wielder, we can try to recruit them. If not, then we head to Yoularnon.”

Maren nodded. “It’ll be nice, sleeping in a bed, eating at a restaurant.”

“I can make you different stuff, if you want.”

“No, no. I don’t mean that I’m bored of your cooking. Not at all. I just… still feel kind of bad.”

“This again? Look, if making you Neirean-style foods was too much of a hassle, then I wouldn’t.”

Maren glanced at the back of Mav’s head, which he was scratching. “Yeah, right. Something’s telling me it doesn’t matter how annoying it could be: if you think it would help someone, you’d do it.”

“Alright, fine. How’s this? If I didn’t want to make you Neirean-style foods, then I wouldn’t.”

Maren frowned a little, but said nothing. For their first week together, Mav made Nichugoan-style foods, mostly the ones which used fish, rice, and vegetables. Two days ago, however, Maren – upon Mav’s prompting – told him that her favorite style of foods were Neirean: hearty red meats, rich potatoes, and, thankfully, some vegetables, often thrown together in either a meat pie or a stew. Mav had spent the remaining days making both her favorites and his own.

However, they only had one campfire stove which couldn’t cook more than one meal at a time, so Mav had grown accustomed to making his own food first, then putting it aside to make Maren’s. They ate together, still, but by the time Maren’s food was prepared, Mav’s had turned colder than even his preferences.

Still, it was a compromise Mav was willing to make, if it meant he had company again while at meals.

“What I mean to say is that I think we can afford another campfire stove,” Maren said.

“Really?”

“Our funds are pretty solid after Sekko’s payment,” Maren said. “If we can do a couple jobs that pay decently in Cir, and if they have a campfire grill, then I don’t see any reason why we can’t afford it. After we pick up some more ingredients, that is.”

Maren had bought some when she started her journey over half a month ago, but had never really dipped into her stores, so her ingredients should be well-stocked. Mav’s, on the other hand, were depleting.

“How does that sound?” Maren said.

Despite her wearied legs, her eyes were wide and genuine. So great a departure of the previous week, when she’d grown increasingly dour and only seemed to care about money.

A problem which only festered because Mav unintentionally had been keeping her from sleep, a fact he still felt some guilt over.

“Sounds great,” Mav said, then the tops of several small buildings appeared before them as they crested a hill. “And it looks like we can get started on that soon.”

Cir was a town like many Maren had seen around Westalk: small, almost bordering on being a village, yet alive and full of its own identity. Aside from the main highway Maren and Mav had walked along, which ran through the town and cut it into uneven portions, the roads bent and winded without much semblance of order, carrying those citizens who meandered upon it through alleys which smaller buildings made of white and tanned bricks and topped with thatched roofs surrounded. In several of these alleys, banners hung from storefronts and bars declaring special deals any wandering customer would find inside. Strings lined overhead, bearing triangular flags each dyed to represent Neirea’s provincial colors of green, white, and blue; they criss-crossed from one building to the next, stitching the colorful alleys together.

Only the gathering stormclouds marred the scene, yet Maren was no stranger to Neirean’s overcast weather. The last week had been unseasonably bright, so it had only been a matter of time before nature returned to normal. What was worse, it wasn’t even cold enough to snow. So if they didn’t move quickly, they’d be stuck cold and wet without even the benefit of watching that fluffy whiteness descend around them.

“We should find someplace to stay,” Maren said, taking out her tablet. “And fast.”

“Ooh!” Mav said, pointing to the right. “Can we stay near the river?”

The River Noshan, Neirea’s longest, ran through much of central and southern Neirea, through several massive lakes in the countryside, and even through the valley which held Linick. It was an important spot for trade, commerce, and travel. It was also a beautiful natural feature around which many towns and villages built nature walks and propped up tents which served as both more shops, bars, and restaurants. So, in other words, tourist attractions.

“That might be too pricey for us right now, even for a town of this size,” Maren said. “But since it’s a small town, any inn we find will be close to the river.”

“Makes sense,” Mav said. “So lead the way.”

Which she did, directly toward a smaller building near the southern end of Cir, nearest the train’s monorail system and as far from the river as they could possibly go. Its white brick had a film of dirt over it and something seemed a little off about its thatched roof, like there were tufts in places where it should have been smooth.

In Maren’s defense, she had never wanted to stay this far from the river, but they’d started exploring the town and found themselves here not ten minutes later. She’d planned on turning back, but the first plinks of rainfall touched the road and wetted Maren’s blanket at her shoulder.

“Inside?” Mav asked, looking north.

A wall of water began to consume the northern part of town and was reaching toward them.

“Inside,” Maren agreed.

Which, to the inn’s credit, was cleaner and better put-together than its exterior. On the left, a small dining room filled the space, holding only four empty pine wood tables, each with four chairs around it. To the right stood a bar only long enough to fit four stools. A bar which, according to a small sign atop it, doubled as the inn’s check-in counter. A hallway separated the two, leading to the inn’s scant rooms and its kitchen.

A singular man stood behind the bar, leaning forward onto the cheaper wood, resting his head in one hand while the other scrolled on a tablet.

“You here for food, or the night?” the man said, glancing up, with a small, tenor voice.

He was too skinny to be considered healthy – as if something had begun to pull on his skin to reveal the bones beneath – pale to the point that it seemed he would quite literally burn the moment he touched the sun, and had wisps of orange hair so wild it made Maren’s frizzy hair seem sleek. And the way he stared at them. It wasn’t disdain Maren found in his half-closed eyes, but it wasn’t anything pleasant, either.

Maren wanted to say they would get a drink, then be on their way after the rain had passed, but she knew these rains well. They’d be lucky if they dispersed even by the morning.

“Both,” Maren said as the rain finally hit the building. It blasted the windows, but made a calm, muffled drumming on the thatched roof. Despite sticking her and Mav in what was likely Cir’s worst inn, she almost smiled at the sound.

“Gotta warn you,” the man said, “food’s gonna take a while. Cook left last week. Just been me and myself running this place since.”

“That’s alright,” Maren said, looking out the window. It was impossible to see anything beyond the falling water. She then glanced at Mav. “We’re not in a rush, right?”

He gave her a smirk. “Not at all.”

Maren stepped around a bucket on her way to the bar. She turned back, then looked up. One of the ruffled areas of the thatch roof loomed over the bucket’s location. Maren eyed the man behind the bar, whose cheeks turned red.

“So,” the man cleared his throat, “that’ll be a room with one bed?”

“Two,” Mav said.

The man’s eyebrow raised. “That two beds, or two rooms?”

“Beds, sorry,” Mav said, folding his arms and giving a small smile.

Mav’s Flame-Dancer Mark flexed alongside his shoulder’s movement and the man’s eyes widened.

“No need to apologize, Blessed Dancer,” he said. “And might I say it’s an honor that a Wielder with his companion might stay at my inn.”

Mav began the normal platitudes of denying the praise while Maren pulled her blanket closer. She’d never been ashamed to be a Wielder, but she, like Mav, never liked the different treatment she got because of it. It was nice, being able to sit back and not have to worry about being grouped with people most citizens saw as superior to them.

“Besides,” Mav said, “it’s not like there’s only one Wielder in here.”

The man paused, then shifted his gaze to Maren. She held in a sigh – but couldn’t stop the eye-roll – as she lowered her blanket and revealed her Mark, placed directly beneath her left clavicle.

“My apologies for not recognizing such a Wondrous Leaper,” the man said.

Maren waved it away. “It would’ve been concerning if you could tell. Please, it’s alright.”

The man gave a weak smile, then nodded. “Right, alright. Two rooms with a bed… I mean a bed with two rooms. And two ales, I take it?”

“One,” Maren said. “Only eighteen.”

“Ah, right,” the man said. “Should’ve checked. So, one ale?”

“Lightest you’ve got,” Mav said, reading the little signs on the barrels behind the counter.

“And for our Wondrous Leaper?”

“Have any juice?” Maren asked.

The man wrung his hands, his face contorting. “Softest stuff I got is pop.”

Maren held in a frown. “Water will be fine.”

“I can run out and get some, if it pleases ya.”

Thunder crackled overhead.

“It’s alright,” Maren said. “I do like water.”

“Right, right, of course,” the man said, his weak smile straining. “I suppose you would, wouldn’t ya?”

Maren and Mav sat on the stools, more wood creaking below them, as the man hurried to make up their drinks.

“He’s a little more nervous than many others,” Maren whispered.

“Wonder why,” Mav said.

Maren glanced around the small, dinghy room. From most of her friends at Radiant Dawn, that would have been a sarcastic comment. From Mav, it was likely a serious contemplation.

And, as Maren was glancing at the room the man was probably ashamed to host Wielders in, water began to drip from the ceiling and land in the bucket.

Ah, so that’s the real reason why.

“Here you go,” the man said, plopping two glasses in front of them. “Your water and your ale. And… ah, apologies, Wondrous Leaper. Please ignore that. Our grounds worker quit a month ago, so it’s just been me manning the maintenance and I, uh…”

“Say no more,” Maren said, turning back around.

She caught Mav’s eye as she did, giving her a look she was growing all too familiar with: he wanted to help. Maren held up a finger, praying he understood the gesture that they would talk when the man was out of earshot. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to press, instead turning himself to the man.

“Thank you, sir,” Mav said.

“Oh, no need for that,” the man said, tapping his left breast. “Call me Malcom.” He tapped a few more times, then looked down and realized he was only touching his shirt. “Now where the bloody hell did I put that thing this time?”

Tapping sounded within more buckets across the room as Malcolm ran from behind the counter and disappeared into the hall.

“Before you ask,” Maren said, getting the first word in since Mav was mid-sip, “how do you think we can help him? It’s not like we can afford to help him run the inn for long.”

Mav put his glass down, stared at it for a second, then shrugged. “How about for the night, then? He looks like he’s going to need help in the kitchen.”

“How many people do you think are going to be eating here?”

“Maybe a few people were resting in their rooms and now they’re stuck here, too.”

“If that’s true, I’ll consider it.”

Malcolm came back, just as another sound filled the air. Instead of the hard taps of water on metal, a softer tone joined the din. Maren and Malcolm turned to the dining room, where water was now dripping directly upon one of the tables. A table, like the others, which was bereft of a bucket.

“Dammit,” Malcolm mumbled, then ran out again.

Mav’s eyebrow rose. Maren inspected the ceiling.

“Depending on the weather tomorrow, and the damage to the roof, we may be able to help with the leaks,” Maren said. “We can talk about it when Malcolm gets back.”

Who, as it turned out, was rushing into the dining hall with yet another bucket. He moved the table out of the way – bumping it into several other tables and chairs – placed the bucket down, and then wiped off the wet table. Once finished he stepped away from the area with too much furniture packed against each other.

“Time’s rough?” Mav asked as Malcolm returned to the bar.

“Well, you know what they say when it rains,” Malcolm said.

Mav nodded sagely. “Yes. It gets wet.”

Malcolm forced a small chuckle, then stared at Mav who didn’t have a trace of humor on his unassuming face, then finally at Maren, who gave him an apologetic shrug.

Malcolm sighed and leaned against the bar. “It’s just been one thing after another. Troubles at home are troubles at the inn. Hard to separate them when this is my home, ya know?”

“You live here?” Maren asked.

“Yeah,” Malcolm said. “Since I was a boy. Pa owned this inn and took over after he….” Malcolm cleared his throat. “But been having issues with the missus. Caused some drama, lost customers because they heard it through the walls. A few dozen bad reviews later and no one wants to come here. Lost money, lost my staff, and now only the most desperate stop in.”

Malcolm watched the dripping water with dismay. “Used to be people going through Cir on their way to Yoularnon or Linick would stop in for the night for a cheap, but nice place to stay. Or those visiting on a budget would know they’d find a warm, cozy little inn to put their feet up at the end of the day.”

Malcolm looked at his feet, eyes watering. “That appears to be gone, now.”

Doors opened from down the hallway. Footsteps and voices grew louder until what appeared to be two families of four stepped into the front room.

“Ah, yes, please find yourself a seat and I’ll be right with you,” Malcolm said, licking his lips. “Unless you’d rather I get you a coat if you want to eat outside.”

More thunder crackled overhead. One of the fathers said they would just eat there, eyeing the dining room with disdain. None of the eight seemed all too pleased with the situation, while one of the mothers commented on how cramped the dining space was.

Malcolm, after a deep breath, rushed to the dining room to rearrange the tables yet again so the eight could eat in relative comfort and dryness. As Maren turned back to the bar, Mav was giving her an expectant look.

“We just can’t do this for free,” Maren said, holding up a finger to forestall Mav’s protest. “But our payment doesn’t have to be in credits. Just let me talk.”

Mav nodded as Malcolm returned to the bar, hurrying to grab some glasses and fill them with a dark, thick ale.

“We have a proposition,” Maren said.

“What was that?” Malcolm said.

“Mav and I are actually part of a guild. It’s a new guild, one where we…” Maren paused. She’d been about to stand, place her foot dramatically on the stool, and proclaim the glories of her traveling guild. The families in the dining room, however, already seemed miserable and an outburst like that likely wouldn’t calm the situation. So Maren reigned herself back in. “We travel around to help people. And since we’re here, and you need it, we might as well help.”

Malcolm turned, eyes shining in disbelief, then they darkened once more. “I can’t afford to pay ya.”

“We’ll help with dinner tonight, so let our meal and drinks be free,” Maren said. “And if we can fix your roof tomorrow morning, let us stay the night for free, too.”

“Fix the…” Malcolm breathed.

“If we can’t, you can charge us for the room,” Maren said. “How does that sound?”

Malcolm looked at a loss for words, then finally he shook his head. “Either of you know how to make Neirean stews and pies?”

“I’ve had some practice,” Mav said.

“And I can help out in the dining room,” Maren said.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Malcolm said.

“Either yes or no would work,” Maren said.

“Yes,” Malcolm said. “Please.”

Maren smirked as Mav stood up. Her mouth parched slightly as she directed her power to the ceiling where the water dropped into the buckets. It didn’t take much concentration to redirect the flows down the roof, instead of inside it. In a second, it appeared the roof stopped leaking.

“Then let’s get to work,” Maren said.

Mav leaned against the inclined roof, enjoying the cool breeze against his sweat-covered skin, the lazy afternoon sun barely visible through a thin layer of grey clouds, and the satisfaction of a job well done.

The last eighteen hours had been a bit of a hurricane. Mav’s time in the kitchen last night hadn’t been bad at all, but his nerves were greater than he’d expected. No longer had he been making food for himself, his family, his cohort, or his guildmate. Now, this was a job, and he had to make sure he made the people happy.

Which, thankfully, he didn’t have to do alone. Soon after Maren kept the inn’s front room dry, she started rearranging the tables – again – to give the families more space, then essentially acted as waitress. From the eventual laughter Mav heard, it appeared she had brought them into good spirits. However, that made it all the more important that Mav’s meals were good.

Technically, they were Malcolm’s meals, as Mav was only his helper, but they managed to make some mean stews, pies, and steak sandwiches in that cramped kitchen. And even in the chaos, he’d been able to talk to Malcolm quite a bit. Malcolm was mostly interested in Mav, where he discussed living on the road and how it fared. Oddly enough, Mav and Maren only having one campfire stove made it into the conversation, but topics moved from one to another so quickly it was almost difficult for Mav to keep up.

That had felt like a job well-done for Mav, but it wasn’t over. Close to dawn, Mav woke to the sound of silence. The rain had stopped sooner than forecasted, so Mav went outside to inspect the damage to the roof. He promptly found he had no idea what he was looking for and, even if he did, he couldn’t reach the roof anyway.

Maren, bleary-eyed and yawning, joined him as he went back inside. He’d apologized for waking her, but she said she’d rather get the work done earlier so they could get back onto the road toward Yoularnon. They woke Malcolm, who provided them with a ladder to see the damage.

Maren, thankfully, actually did know what she was looking for. She said she’d done jobs like this with Radiant Dawn before and, with the right supplies, they could be finished in a few hours. As they traveled over the spongy thatch, Mav lit a fire in his palm and held it close to the material to dry it out. He had to be careful not to let it get too close, as dry thatch would combust very quickly. Maren also kept switching her attention between the damaged parts of the roof and Mav’s fire, likely prepared to douse whatever flame accidentally ignited.

She didn’t need to worry, of course, because Mav was the embodiment of carefulness. It also helped that the thatch dried a lot quicker than he’d expected, so he never needed to keep his flame hovering over an area for too long.

After the drying, they removed the bad batches of thatch. By then, the local stores were open and they purchased new thatch for the inn. Much to Maren’s chagrin, it cost several hundred credits. However, Mav had assured her that he wouldn’t raise a fuss if she asked for that to be compensated… if Malcolm could afford it.

It was only fair. If Maren was going to be less money-focused, then Mav had to agree to get paid for jobs when the client could afford it.

Maren then taught Mav how to cut and replace the thatch and they went to work. Mav worked quite fast and, after inspecting his patches, said that he knew what he was doing and that he could even work alone.

Which confused him at first as she descended the later, but then Maren began to wash the dirt off the inn’s exterior walls with pressurized streams of water. Mav remembered the joy he felt at seeing that. Why not make Malcolm’s inn look a little better, too?

And it was Malcolm’s thankful voice that brought him back to reality as he basked in the glory of finishing the roof by himself.

“This was far more than I was expecting,” Malcolm had said.

“We could, so we did,” Maren said. “And we’re glad to help.”

Mav smirked again as he scooted to the edge of the roof. Malcolm and Maren were facing each other, next to the gleaming new white wall of the inn.

“I need to give you more,” Malcolm said, inspecting the wall.

“You’ve given all you’re required per our contract,” Maren said, expanding her tablet. “Food, drink, and compensation for the thatch. Now that the roof’s done, all you need to do is waive the fee for our room last night and we’re all squared away.”

“But you essentially pressure washed all my walls!”

“Call it a bonus. No extra charge. Like I said, we could, so we did.”

Mav’s smile widened as he descended the ladder. It was almost hard to believe, after the previous week, that Maren would do something for free.

“Well, then, give me another moment,” Malcolm said, then he rushed into the inn.

“What do you think that’s about?” Mav asked as he joined them.

“Probably wants to give us a small gift, or something,” Maren said. “That sometimes happens when you go above and beyond for someone.”

Mav’s smile faltered. Maybe Maren hadn’t done it entirely from an altruistic spirit.

“Not that we ever ask for it,” Maren hurried on. “But make sure to accept what he offers if it’s within reason. It would be rude to deny a client’s gift too many times.”

Mav opened his mouth the same moment the front door opened. Malcolm exited carrying a metallic slab about a foot long: a campfire stove.

“Here,” Malcolm said. “This is for you.”

“What?” Mav said. “But that’s way too much.”

“Please, Kindly Flame Dancer, I insist,” Malcolm said. “Sheila and I got this when we thought we’d be traveling more often, but the inn…. Anyway, it’s yours. The missus and me have a lot more to worry about than making food on the road.”

“But…” Mav took a deep breath. Malcolm was being quite kind offering this gift and Mav had mentioned they wanted a second one. This way, they’d have it and Maren could still save a good amount of money. “Thank you. Would you, uh, like any help with your wife?”

“Mav,” Maren said, voice low.

But Malcolm laughed. “Kindly appreciate it, but no. This is something I can work on myself. Here.”

Malcolm’s eyes were kind, his smile reaching them. Mav stepped forward and took the grill.

“Thank you,” Mav said.

“No, thank you,” Malcolm said.

“I’ll get something to put that in,” Maren said with a smirk. “Be right back.”

Maren’s intent had been to grab her size-changing container which held many other camping supplies from her and Mav’s small room, but she paused upon opening her red nylon bag. Attached to the interior was a kind of note Maren had heard of before, but had never seen herself: it was small with a thin film of adhesive on one side so it could stick to things. She removed the little note and read its scrawling scribble.

If you want a guaranteed success with your guild, make for Colway.

Maren bit her lip, then glanced around. The room was empty aside from their two little beds, their supplies, and herself. This note hadn’t been in her bag this morning when she’d rummaged through it. This was placed recently, within the last three hours.

It couldn’t have been from Malcolm: he’d have simply handed it to her. This was passed off by someone who knew of them, where they were, and desperately didn’t want to be seen.

A foe? Someone they’d pissed off in the last ten days from their two larger jobs?

No, that wouldn’t make sense. Maren and Mav were still on the eastern edge of central Neirea. Colway was far to the northwest, on the coast of a sea connected to Nichugo. It was even a hop, skip, and short speedtrain ride from Westalk, the city where Maren grew up. If someone was setting up a trap, wouldn’t they want to lead them somewhere closer so they’d spring it sooner?

It also couldn’t have been from anyone at Radiant Dawn. She wouldn’t put it past them to keep tabs on her, but if anyone were to attempt leading her back, they’d likely mention a municipality along Westalk’s fringes, or maybe the mountain range outside the cities at a maximum.

No. There was only one person Maren could think of who would give such a clandestine message like this, one who would demand it followed to the letter without question.

If you want to help, you could just join us!

Maren, however, placed the note in a safe compartment in her nylon bag, then grabbed all her and Mav’s supplies.

“Whoa,” Mav said as she left. “Are we leaving already?”

“Job’s done,” Maren said. “And we gotta pick up a few ingredients and then hit the road. Just came up with an idea of where to go, so we should probably take the train.”

“The train?” Mav said. “Are we going to miss all the adventure in the countryside.”

Maren considered. “Alright, how about a bus to some places, walking to others, and a train to finish it off?”

Mav cocked his head to the side. “That sounds… fine. But where do want us to go?”

“Ever been to Colway?”

Mav shook his head. “What’s there that we can’t get anywhere else?”

Maren shrugged. “Adventure. Never been myself and there’s a lot of ground between us and there. Even from bus or train, we can see a lot.”

It looked like it took a moment for Mav to comprehend just how much they could see on the way, how many people they could continue to help. When it clicked, he nodded. “Sounds great. Let’s go!”

With that, they said their goodbyes to Malcolm and Cir, making their way to the road and their next adventure.