Common Clay

It took another three attacks before the Guardians apparently decided that he was done.

The first had no hunting party waiting, but the second had another, smaller one. They charged out boldly, daring him to strike them down with lightning. When he didn't, the shrooms came straight at them, trying to put a stop to the raids that left more and more of the Village in ruins.

Clay held back, mostly wiping out the lesser shrooms while Olivia focused on the larger ones, but it was hard. Despite all the bonuses and abilities he'd collected, the wizened shrooms were dangerous. One of the shifters took nearly a minute to chop into pieces as it frantically shifted its core around, while the spitters launched wave after wave of explosive shells at the [Commoners] until Olivia picked them off.

Yet, once again, the hoppers were the worst of the lot. While forcing them to attack had robbed them of their traps, the repulsive little things made up for it by being able to maneuver as they flew in towards the group. They sprayed spores in an attempt to paralyze or confuse the [Commoners], and only Olivia's skill with a sling and the others' own agility kept anyone from being snared by their grasping tendrils.

In the end, they eliminated the hunting party and came around for yet another attack, only to find the next hunting party already waiting for them. It was another harsh fight, this time with the added pleasantries of hopper spore traps and shifters who had been given enough time to burrow into little hiding spots, but they fought their way free easily enough. Olivia hadn't quite reached her next level, or completed the [Achievement], but it turned out that they'd run out of time.

Even as the last of the hunting party fell, a curious groaning sound echoed over the battlefield. They exchanged looks, and Andrew swallowed. He gave the signal for 'high ground', and they all nodded, retreating under the cover of their [Chants].

They didn't have a clear view of the village until they had reached the low rise, and even then, the smoke and fire still made things difficult. Clay paused long enough to use the [Chant] of Hawk's Vision, bringing the distant center of the village into sharp relief.

The source of the groan was immediately obvious. Something had forced the doors of the corrupted Shrine open; the hinges were so cankered with rust that he was astonished that they'd even functioned. He carefully avoided looking inside, knowing that his stomach had already encountered enough unpleasantness so far that day.

It took him a moment longer to see the actual target of his search. They had already moved across the corrupted Village green and were about to force their way through the smoldering wreckage of the breach. Shoving the broken pieces of the wall aside, they resumed marching in silent, fearless order across scorched terrain. The majority of the hunting party was familiar enough, even if there seemed to be far more wizened among them than before. Evidently, the Guardians were putting their last great warriors into the battle—and they did not intend to avoid the fight themselves.

Three towering figures strode along beside the masses of shrooms. To Clay's shock, they were humanoid, in the shape of men wearing extremely heavy armor. A closer inspection revealed that their 'armor' was made up of multiple overlapping caps of mushrooms, fungi whose stalks and roots lay inside the figure. They stood a little taller than most, likely head and shoulders above Clay's own height. Each stride seemed to land with heaviness, as if they were made of stone.

Spores seemed to leak from the joints in their armor, forming a purplish cloud that streamed out behind each of them. The cloud didn't seem to do anything, but Clay didn't feel like finding out what it would do the hard way. He started the [Chant] of the Anthem, aiming directly at the three Guardians as they continued their slow approach.

Their steady, unhurried gait gave him plenty of time to finish the [Chant]. The others were already preparing themselves for the battle as well. Olivia had taken point, staring down at the approaching shrooms with something that seemed like eagerness. Alice and Martin were gripping their weapons with far less excitement, but they both seemed ready to confront the enemies below. Britney was cursing under her breath, a torrent of invective that would have shocked the people back in Pellsglade.

Andrew just stared down at the enemy, turning a glass vial over in his hands, again and again. His gaze was locked on one of the Guardians in particular, and he no longer seemed as nervous.

Clay took heart from their steadiness and focused his power. He'd managed to force through a fifth repetition, but the [Chant] was definitely at its limit now. It likely wouldn't be able to work nearly as well for the next day or so, but it was going to be worth it. He concentrated, letting the charge build inside him.

Then he unleashed it, smiling as the storm rolled out over the enemy.

Ravening bolts streamed from the sky, blasting and burning. A continual roar rippled through the ranks of the hunting party, though the destruction was far more focused and less distributed than before. He'd wanted to take down the Guardians, not their minions. They could hunt down the survivors piecemeal once their masters were dead.

As the blasts rained down, notifications scrolled past his vision. He sat back with satisfaction, waiting for the announcements that he was expecting.

{Wizened Shifter Shroom slain!}

{Mature Hopper Shroom slain!}

{Mature Spitter Shroom slain!}

{Wizened Spitter Shroom slain!}

Clay frowned as the notifications continued. There were no reports of the Guardians' deaths, even as the last of the bolts of lightning fell. He stared down at where they had been, willing for the spots to clear from his eyes. The space where they were was surrounded by purple spores and black smoke. They couldn't have survived that. Had they retreated? Maybe they had—

His thoughts cut off as the smoke cleared, and all three of the Guardians stared up at him. Aside from some charred portions on their outer shell, they appeared unfazed. He couldn't see eyes, but then, none of the shrooms had ever appeared to need such things to find prey. The terrain around them was even more blasted and barren than it had been before, and the blackened fragments of the corpses of those shrooms that had stood nearby still were scattered around their feet.

The Guardians themselves, however, seemed undeterred. As one, they stepped forward and moved up the hill. Those portions that had been damaged flaked away, being replaced by new growth beneath. Those shrooms that had survived swarmed up ahead of them, their forms glowing with red light.

Clay grimaced. He lifted his spear and began the modified version of the Orison. It was something he probably should have done sooner, but he'd thought overwhelming power would have made it unnecessary. Now they'd just need to hold the line until they knew how to kill the things. His companions seemed to recognize the situation as well, and they faced the oncoming enemies as one.

The spitters made their presence known first. Dark blurs shot up at them, exploding on contact in showers of splinters and spores. Alice completed the Ballad of Air and started swatting them away, but there were too many to block entirely. Martin sent a shower of ice down the hill, catching some of the first shrooms and killing them; their bodies were trampled by the others.

They reached the crest of the hill, only for Britney to sweep the Flame-Tongued Song across them. Shifters screamed and burned, but more kept coming, and overhead, a massive flock of hoppers shot into the sky and began to descend towards them. More ice spears rose to meet them, from both Olivia and Martin, but more kept coming.

Standing in place wasn't going to work. Falling back would just allow the spitters to shoot down on them from the top of the hill while the hoppers kept diving on them. There was only one half-decent option, and Clay embraced it with grim acceptance. Still reciting the Orison, he gave the hand signal to charge.

He suited actions to orders and plunged down the slope towards the shrooms. Olivia went with him, her scythe already spinning and rending the shrooms between them and the Guardians. The others followed in their wake, shouting their [Chants] as they showered still more spells into the ranks of the approaching horde.

Clay waded into the enemy, lashing out with his spear in a blur of motion. Shrooms fell back as he stabbed, slashed, and bashed his way forward, sending the things reeling away. Notifications scrolled past unheeded as he forced his way to work faster and faster, picking off enemies as they crowded around him.

Disgusting forms rose around him. Impact after impact shook him; tendrils and tentacles reached out to embrace him. He tore them apart with increasing desperation, knowing that if he slowed, he'd be buried beneath a wave of spongy flesh. Spores exploded and fluid sprayed, but he moved too fast for it to blind him.

Then, just as he caught the reaching threads of a descending hopper with his spear and swung it like a hammer into a nearby spitter, the Orison finally completed. He turned it on the nearest of the Guardians. Words filled his vision for a heartbeat.

[Guardian Fungal Brute Colony]

[Rank: 10, Type: Shroom, Title: Guardian]

[Demesne: Rettland Village Lair, Liege: Mycon Bloom]

[Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 93, Age: 97 years]

[Guardian (Bound to the Lair, Bringer of Ruin),

Creator (Origin of Hopper Shrooms),

Commander (Lord of Shrooms, Captain of the Bloom),

Eternal (Reborn in the Village While the Lair Stands)

Blooming Growth (Continuous Regeneration, Ravenous Spores, Death Eater)

Shellbound (Heavy Armor, Sensitive Flesh, Magic Deflector, Weak Joints)]

Clay blinked as the information imprinted itself on his mind. He darted in towards the closest of them, his spear ready to strike. It turned to face him, one bulging fist rearing back as if for a punch.

He struck first, aiming straight at the seam in its shell, where the left shoulder would have been on a man. The boar spear slid between two platelike caps, sinking deep into the spongy matter beneath. Before it could back up, he gave the spear a vicious twist, wrenching it in the joint. Clay had a heartbeat to feel a burst of triumph as the arm suddenly hung loose with a snapping sound.

Then purple spores sprayed out of the wound, and he was forced to leap back to avoid being caught by them. He landed a short distance away and watched in horror as the spores reached the corpse of a fallen shifter. The body seemed to dissolve, turning into a bruise-colored slime that seeped towards the brute. It slid through the joints in its feet, and suddenly the loosened arm cracked back into place.

The now-healed brute stared at him, its eyeless face still somehow capable of an angry glare. A sound reverberated from the brute, less a bellow and more a moaning vibration that started somewhere deep inside the thing. It was echoed by the other two, and all three Guardians stepped forward to close in around him.

As they moved, a shifter leaped at Clay from the side. He smashed it from existence without looking at it as the real threats closed in. A glance backwards told him that the others were still hacking their way through the horde towards him; he'd somehow gotten far ahead of his friends, and now he'd need to hold out for a time.

At least while he did, he'd have a chance to find a way to kill the things.

Clay set himself, running through his options. He shouted, hoping the others could hear him. "Aim for the joints! They heal by eating corpses!"

Any further warnings were stalled as the nearest Guardian charged him, arms spread wide. He ducked its embrace and tried to stab it in the knee as it passed. His attack was aborted as a second Guardian tried to smash him flat with both hands. Clay jumped back, only to have the third one launch itself towards him and swing a punch that would have flattened him.

He struck at the third brute's back, his spear glancing off the back plate of its shell, and then whirled away as one of the others tried to crush him beneath a massive fungal boot. The impact shook the ground a little when it came down, and Clay shifted his spear in his hands as yet another Guardian nearly clotheslined him.

Clay used the butt of his spear like a hammer and knocked the brute's leg out from under it. It fell forwards onto its face, but he ignored it and turned to confront the next brute. It was already winding up for a punch, but he stabbed at the joint between its head and chest, nearly ripping its neck apart. As it staggered away, spores hissing from the wound, Clay followed.

Then the third brute lunged in, its arms close in to protect itself. Clay's initial strikes bounced off its armor, and then he heard a hissing sound as if the thing was breathing in with its entire body. He saw the joints widen for just a heartbeat, and some survival instinct managed to help him leap backwards, just before the Guardian released a sudden explosion of purple spores, covering all three of them.

Clay avoided the hissing cloud, but he barely had enough time to pause before all three of them burst from the cloud, already made whole and hunting for him.

They gave him no time to adapt or plan. Each attacked in coordination with the others, rushing him. Even when he managed to lash out and strike at one, it was usually deflected by the plates of its shell, or it simply paused long enough for a smaller shroom to interfere. Then the spores which leaked out restored the thing from one of the nearby corpses, when they weren't trying to eat Clay himself.

Frustration began to infect his movements as he tried to stay ahead of the three Guardians. One on one, he could probably have handled them, but to face all of them at once meant he was continually dodging instead of striking, twisting out of the way of the next attack rather than delivering his own blows. He continued to consider his options, running through them as he ducked and weaved through the flurry of punches, stomps, and tackles.

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Heavy magical attacks accomplished next to nothing, and wouldn't be wise at close range, anyway. Striking at them physically left him vulnerable to the spores. He doubted arrows would do much if they could regenerate. How could he keep them from healing while still damaging?

A brute ducked in low, just barely missing him with an uppercut. He lashed out with the butt of his spear, catching the next one in the faceplate and cracking its shell. It staggered for a moment, and the third one slipped between the other two, its joints already sucking in air.

Clay grunted and leaped away again, just barely avoiding the explosion. He grimaced as the spores nearly caught him, watching the shifting forms in the haze. It was almost impossible to see them in there.

Then a thought occurred to him. He smiled. "So you like clouds, huh? Let's test that."

He started the Madrigal of Ash, just as they burst out of the spore cloud for yet another rush. This time, he didn't try to strike at them. He focused on staying close and dodging their blows, making sure that he concentrated the power of his [Chant] the best way he could. Olivia and the others wouldn't thank him for blinding them, after all.

As he dodged, he did receive one bit of welcome news.

{Valor increased by 1!}

Blow after blow slid by him, and although his breath was coming in desperate gasps, Clay continued his [Chant]. It seemed to take an eternity, but he stayed out of their grasp long enough to complete the thing. As he neared the end of the Madrigal, he finally—finally—struck out at them. The knee of one brute bent sideways with a crack; the elbow joint of another hung loose after a lucky stab.

Right on time, the third rushed in, its joints already opening to draw in air. Clay jumped backwards slightly, his [Chant] sliding into place just as his feet touched the ground.

Then the air around him became a cloud of swirling, burning ash. The Guardians abruptly vanished; the only sign of their presence was the sudden roiling contraction of part of the cloud, where the unfortunate brute must have attempted to breathe in air for its spore cloud. Clay had to restrain a shout of triumph as he heard an agonized moan as it got a lungful of searing ash for its trouble.

He turned towards the sound and braced himself. The shrooms had never needed eyes before, so he wasn't sure if they'd be blinded the way the swinefolk had. A moment later, one of the brutes came staggering out of the cloud, its armor leaking smoke and steam.

Clay struck before it could lunge at him. He caught it on the neck with a hard swing that cracked its head to the side. As it staggered, he ducked low and stabbed it cleanly through the right knee, twisting to pop the joint loose. When it went down, there was only a small hint of spores erupting from the wounds, and it scrabbled in the dirt as if it was searching for him.

Rather than attacking it, Clay simply jumped back, letting the ash cloud surround it again. The brute seemed to groan in anguish as the ash once again seared it, and Clay settled in to wait for the cloud to do its work a second time.

Then the other two came barreling in from the side, their armor plates sealed tight and their movements reminding him of someone who had taken off running with their eyes closed. Clay ducked aside as they swung at him, but even as he stepped away and they continued their blind charge back into the cloud, there was a sudden spray of projectiles through the ash. Spitter fire, shot blindly, and yet two of them made contact.

The explosions knocked him to his knees, sliding in the dirt, but the real damage had been his reaction. He'd released a single grunt, and the sound had been enough to break the [Chant]. Clay grimaced as the ash cloud suddenly dissipated, revealing all three of the Guardians once more.

Two of them seemed to sense the change immediately. They straightened up from their tightly clenched postures, their joints moving more freely as the heated air vanished. The third, however, still lay on the ground, its head and leg both hanging loosely. He could see spongy matter beneath both severed joints; it looked as if it had been cooked in an oven, the flesh an angry red.

Clay grinned and set himself for the next charge. He knew they'd try to cover their downed companion. If he could just keep them from healing…

They stepped forward to confront him as one, their arms coming up. The one on the ground lurched towards a nearby pile of corpses, likely looking for something to consume in order to heal itself. Clay's eyes narrowed, and he prepared to lunge forward.

Then Olivia came hurtling down out of the sky and slammed into one of the standing Guardians, her scythe chopping into a shoulder joint with biting force. It recoiled, clutching at its limb, and she darted away from the hissing stream of spores. Yet even as she did so, he saw invisible tendrils dart out, waving away the cloud and latching onto the brute's damaged arm.

There was a moment of tension, and then the arm came free with an awful ripping sound. Olivia pulled it up and tossed it to the side with the Ballad of Air, and used the other tendrils to grab at the brute itself as it tried to retreat.

The other one stepped forward, as if intending to help, but Andrew came charging in before it could. He swung his hammer hard, smashing into the thing's back and sending it staggering down the hill. When it tried to turn and face him, he just smashed it again and again, cracking its armor and sending it stumbling away.

Clay didn't waste the opening they'd given him. He started the [Chant] for the Flame-Tongued Song and charged. The crawling brute had nearly reached the nearest corpses, but he slammed into it before it could leak any spores. His spear stabbed straight into its back, puncturing an armor plate with the force of the strike.

He didn't twist this time. Instead, he dragged the thing back, refusing to let it get away. It fought him, but with one leg damaged and pinned facedown, it couldn't keep him from just stomping it flat when it tried to gain leverage. It tried to perform another spore burst, but the joints in its shell seemed to wheeze rather than breathe in air. Apparently, the ash had really damaged something, and before it could fix the problem, his [Chant] had finished.

For a moment, Clay held in the flames. He placed his foot on one of the crossguards and stomped as hard as he could, driving the spearpoint down through the monster and into the soil beyond. With it pinned, Clay ripped out his knife and lunged for its head, grabbing it with his free hand. A single heavy blow nearly severed the neck; spores began to spew at last, hissing from the tear.

He answered them with a river of flame, an angry red blaze that blasted the spores from existence and then poured into the gap the wounds had left in the armor. Clay caught sight of pinkish flesh shriveling inside the armor plating. The edges of the hardened plates glowed and split. Fire and smoke leaked from the joints as Clay did his level best to cook the thing in its own shell.

The notification he'd been looking for arrived a moment later, even as the [Chant] ran its course.

{Fungal Brute Colony slain! Soul increases by 100}

He lurched back from the corpse, letting the remnants slump into a charred pile. A look around told him that the other [Commoners] were occupying what was left of the horde; Alice was stabbing her way through a group of spitters, while Britney and Martin were blasting hoppers from the sky. A brave shifter tried to jump him, only for him to grab it by the tentacle and stab it directly in the core.

{Wizened Shifter Shroom slain!}

As he got back to his feet, Clay retrieved his spear and looked to the others. Olivia was hacking the limbs from her opponent and tossing them aside using Ballad of Air; both arms were gone, and it only had one leg left. Spores hissed from the wounds, but she kept brushing them aside and keeping them away from the closest corpses. He winced as she lifted the thing into the air obviously intending on dissecting it the rest of the way, piece by piece.

A short distance away, Andrew had battered his opponent to the ground, its armor riddled with cracks that revealed the pink flesh beneath. Spores were leaking from its joints, but Andrew simply uncorked a flask and poured it over the thing. He stepped back and finished a muttered [Chant]. He'd used Spontaneous Spark by the looks of what happened next; the Guardian burst into blue flame that ate away at it with terrifying speed. It writhed and hissed in the dirt, but Andrew just tossed another fire-flask into the conflagration.

There was a wet ripping sound from the direction where Olivia had been fighting, and when Clay looked over, she'd somehow torn the thing's torso open and scattered it across the ground. It apparently joined its fellow Guardians in death a few heartbeats later, as the shrooms suddenly broke and ran, scattering from the battlefield in a frantic wave of panic. Britney laughed as they fled, her axe still hacking through the closest of them. Martin and Alice took a few parting blows as well, but the [Guards] simply appeared satisfied that the day was won.

Clay smiled, feeling a little hint of exhaustion seep into his bones. Then he glanced at the Shrine, where the Curse still waited. They had one more task to do, after all.

Reaching the center of the Lair was not as difficult as Clay had assumed.

With the death of the Guardians, the remaining shrooms had dispersed, and the mat of fungal strands in the Village had begun to shrivel slightly. None of them had wanted to touch it, still, so the [Chant] of Floating Step had helped them to move across the corrupted land to where the Shrine still stood.

Once they reached it, they cautiously made their way inside, careful not to touch any of the fungal matter that coated the ceiling and walls. To Clay's surprise, the floor remained mostly clear, but he didn't know if he trusted it.

The Shrine had a similar layout to the one they had built in Pellsglade, though most of the side rooms had been sealed off by fungal matter. Clay saw an expression of disgust and disappointment on Olivia's face. There was little hope that she'd find any answers in this place, at least.

They found the Curse itself hovering in front of the statues of the gods. Those already inaccurate depictions had been defaced further, and then their crumbling facades had been covered in mushrooms. Hovering in the air before them, as if in mockery of their present state, was the Curse itself, glowing and snapping at the air.

Andrew stared at it for a moment. He shuddered. "That's what I have to fight, huh?"

Clay nodded. He handed over the parchment. "I'll be right here if you need me."

The [Crafter] paused, looking down at the scroll. Then he nodded and went to approach the light. Clay watched as he unrolled the scroll and began to speak. He relaxed slightly as he heard the words of the Garden's Peace. All the same, he started the [Chant] of Discord, just in case. Olivia watched nearby, her eyes narrowed.

It was, as always, a long, terrible process. Andrew labored through the [Chant], his features locked in determination, but he seemed to have little trouble with the task. Clay felt a moment of envy as the spell unfurled, but he shoved it aside and focused on the task at hand. A win here was a win for everyone, after all.

A few stumbles and a desperate gasping few phrases later, Andrew completed the [Chant]. In a sight that Clay was finding more and more familiar, the Curse lashed and howled in his senses, fighting its doom. Yet it failed and faltered and vanished all the same, disappearing into whatever eldritch dimension had given it birth.

Once again, they'd won.

{Curse of the Rettlands Village destroyed! Soul increases by 1000 for most nearby heroes}

{Soul increases by 500 for some nearby heroes.}

{Commoner reaches Level 21!}

{Maximum level for all Stats is now 36!}

{Experience gained (Exemplar: Gain 20% damage resistance against Guardians.)}

{Experience gained (Shouter: Gain 20% range for all Chants.)}

Clay blinked. He looked at Olivia, who raised an eyebrow at him.

A check of his [Gift] confirmed it. He'd only received half the usual amount. Why…

His mind went back over his memories, counting. Clay felt a sinking feeling as he realized it was his sixth Lair destroyed—and just like the sixth monster of any type, it had only given him half as much Soul.

It didn't bode well for the future, but all the same, he forced himself to grin and approach Andrew. The [Crafter] was staring at the scroll, which he'd wisely rolled up in his hands. "Everything all right?"

Andrew jerked. He nearly dropped the scroll, only to recover it. "Yeah. I'm fine." Then he gave Clay a weak grin. "I have the [Experience] now. That'll get easier next time, right?"

Clay grinned a little wider. "Yeah, it will." He took the scroll from Andrew and slipped it into a pouch. He'd burn it later, before they reached town. "Now, let's go give the Baron the good news. I feel like we've earned a nice, warm dinner."

It took a little longer than he'd hoped to return, however. Their first problem was convincing Britney to stop lighting the remnants of the Village on fire for long enough to leave. The [Cleaner] had been going a little too far with the Flame-Tongued Song by the time Andrew had destroyed the Lair, and it took quite a lot of effort to drag her away from what was left of the place. She'd still occasionally cackled to herself in sheer, disturbing triumph as they began the trek home.

At the very least, the shrooms appeared to be avoiding them as they made their way home. Those who had survived the massacre at the Village didn't seem to want to throw away their lives for the chance to strike at them one more time. A few did actually make the attempt, but they barely lasted long enough for the group to pause.

All the same, those delays added up, to the point where the sun was already starting to set by the time they got into sight of Rettmore. Exhaustion dragged at them, and even Clay felt an ache in his muscles as they walked back towards the distant walls. Between the fatigue and the fading light, Clay felt a moment of gratitude that they wouldn't be stuck out among the shrooms for the night. Even he needed sleep.

He still wasn't tired enough not to feel surprise, however, when he saw a group of people riding out from Rettmore towards them. It wasn't a small group; instead, he could see at least twenty people coming out of the town. The Baron was at their head, armored from head to toe and carrying a spear of his own. His wife and children were behind him, also armored and carrying their own weapons. It looked like the rest was a collection of [Guards], all looking faintly terrified at being led into what must have seemed like a death march.

They were all inspecting the scenery with something approaching paranoia. Then the Baron's gaze snapped to where Clay and the others were walking, and his reaction was immediate. The man spurred his horse into a gallop, forcing the rest of his group to come riding after him. Clay watched them approach with a hint of wariness. It wasn't as if Baron Rettmore had been a welcoming soul, and the last thing he wanted at the moment was a fight.

When the Baron reached them, however, he flung himself off his horse and half-ran to them, his eyes angry and desperate at the same time. "Where in all the void were you? It's nearly nightfall. We thought—" Baron Rettmore caught himself, just short of reaching out and shaking Clay by the shoulders. He visibly attempted to restrain himself, still glaring at each of them in turn as he ran his eyes over their injuries. "Sir Clay. We were just coming to… assist you. I am glad to see that you are all right, but I must insist that you cease this foolhardy crusade before you get yourselves killed."

Clay looked at the others and grinned. He turned back to the Baron and extended a hand. "There's no need. The Lair is gone."

Baron Rettmore had reached for his hand, only to stop. He looked Clay in the eyes, his expression confused. "What?"

"It's gone, Baron Rettmore. The fight is over. We've won." Clay gently reached a little further and clasped the man's hand, moving slowly as he shook it. "Congratulations. You and your people are free."

The Baron looked numb from shock as Clay released his hand. He stared from Clay to Olivia and the others, his eyes wide and disbelieving. Clay felt a twinge of discomfort as the silence continued to stretch. He cleared his throat and tried to sound like he hadn't noticed the awkwardness. "Unfortunately, my apprentice and I will need to leave for other duties in the morning. If it would be all right with you, the team that arrived here first would like to stay for a week or so and help chase down the majority of the remaining monsters. I know you're capable of dealing with them yourself, but we'd like to clear most of them out before they scatter too far."

It didn't even seem like the Baron had heard him, but the Baroness nodded smoothly. "Of course, Sir Clay. We appreciate your dedication to your work." She looked at the Baron, who simply seemed lost, now, as if he didn't entirely understand what was happening. "We owe you a debt of gratitude. Anything you need from us, we will supply."

Clay shook his head. "I'd only ask that you feed and house those who remain with you. They won't be here long, but the weather is turning a little colder."

"Of course." The Baroness nodded again. She gestured to her son, who dismounted and touched the Baron's shoulder. He stared at his son with blank, watery eyes, and then his son led him back to his horse. "We will be at your disposal. Our thanks to you again, Sir Clay."

Clay watched as the Baron and most of his household turned back to the town. He waited until the majority of them were gone and then turned to the Baron's daughter, who had remained behind. "Will he be all right?"

The Lady Rettmore seemed worried as she looked to where the Baron was being led back. "It seems to have been a shock. You must understand, he's fought these creatures most of his life. He's seen friends and family fall to them. His brother. His mother and uncle. So many young adventurers…" She shook her head. "Rettmore was known as a death trap for the unwise, and he was respected as the man who managed to hold back the tide. Now what will we be? Who will he be?"

Clay looked back at the Baron. Even as he rode, he could see the man's shoulders begin to shake. He grew solemn. "He'll be what he always could have been, if these monsters were not here. He'll be free, as will you and your family, my lady."

She gave him a bright smile. "Thanks to you, Sir Clay." The [Noble] bowed from the saddle, and then settled her reins. "We will wait for you in the town. Stay safe."

He nodded, and she began to ride to catch up to the group. Clay watched for a few moments until Andrew stepped up beside him. Without looking, Clay spoke in a low voice. "I know you're all sick of fighting those shrooms, but—"

"You don't even need to ask, Clay." Andrew glanced back at the others, who were already nodding. Britney in particular looked almost eager to resume the purge. "We'll stay until there isn't a shroom left within a day of this place. Then we'll head for home."

Clay turned and clapped him on the shoulder. He looked at the others and gestured for them to continue. "Come on. It looks like we might have actual beds waiting for us tonight, and I, for one, am excited to remember what that feels like!"