Ashstone's walls emerged through the snow like the ribs of some ancient beast, dark stone jutting upward under layers of frost. As Kel and the others stepped through the outer gate, the heavy wooden beams swung shut behind them with a muted thud, sealing out the pale emptiness of the borderlands.
Inside the city, visibility sharpened slightly. Torchlight burned along the streets, amber halos flickering against stone and timber. Shop awnings sagged beneath the weight of ice. Wind blew down narrow alleys, carrying snowflakes that danced and vanished in pools of warmth leaked from tavern doors.
The hunting party walked in silence.
Not the silence of tension now.
But of exhaustion.
Jace's shoulder guard bore a crack from the Alpha's impact. Torren's shield arm was visibly strained, his breathing controlled but heavier than before. Mara's axe was stained along its edge with drying blood and broken ice. The mages' robes were scorched and frost-burned near the hems. Kel—bow still in hand, cloak rimmed in white, breath shallow—was the quietest among them.
Every step echoed lightly against cobblestone coated in frozen slush.
They turned left, then right, following unmarked back-streets without discussion—each of them having made this walk before. Toward the northern section of Ashstone.
Toward Guild Camp.
The Guild Camp
The building wasn't grand.
It was built like a bunker—low stone walls, reinforced timber beams, iron-braced windows. A large crest above the door read:
❄ ASHSTONE SUBJUGATION GUILD – NORTHERN DIVISION ❄
A lantern hung at the entrance, shielded from wind by layered glass.
Jace pushed the door open.
Warmth spilled out, carrying with it the smell of leather, dried blood, oil, and parchment.
Inside, the air was dim. Walls lined with notice boards, various monster sketches pinned beside bounties. Two fireplaces crackled at opposite sides of the hall, throwing shadows against the floor.
Adventurers lounged at tables, some drinking, some resting bruised limbs. A few glanced up at the group as they entered—the stares not curious, merely acknowledging presence and measurement of strength.
Kel felt eyes linger on him longer than others.
Possibly because of his slight frame.
Possibly because of the bow.
More likely because of his silence.
They moved to the reception counter—scarred oak, polished through years of wear. Behind it sat a middle-aged man with short greying hair and thick gloves. He looked up without changing expression.
"Group ID?"
Jace tapped his palm against the counter.
A bronze token clinked.
"Jace Vell. Hunt request: Frost Beast Subjugation Path C-07. Returning with confirmed eliminations. With additional secondary threat eliminated."
The manager raised an eyebrow.
"Secondary threat?"
Mara stepped forward, dropping a heavy, cloth-wrapped object onto the counter.
A thud.
The weight of it caused dust to ripple on the wooden surface.
The man tugged the cloth back.
A portion of the Alpha Duskwolf's horned skull stared back, partially cleaved, one eye still embedded with an arrow shaft.
Conversations nearby quieted for a moment.
Someone exhaled a low whistle.
The manager blinked once.
Then twice.
"…You brought that back from a standard-tier request?"
Jace shrugged.
"It found us."
The manager stared at the skull, then at them.
His eyes rested briefly on Kel.
Kel's gaze didn't shift.
The man nodded slowly.
Reaching under the counter, he drew a ledger, quill, and sealed weighing plate.
He noted down the request fulfilled, adjusted the rank classification, and after weighing the collected beast parts, cores, and hides, wrote a final figure without looking up.
"6,480 marks."
A pause.
"Minus handling, 6,200."
He pulled six small leather pouches from beneath the desk, each tied shut with thin string, and placed them one by one upon the counter.
"Equal distribution?" the manager asked.
Jace looked at the rest.
Everyone nodded.
"Equal," he confirmed.
The man slid each pouch forward.
Kel reached for the one set aside from the others.
His glove brushed the leather.
It was cold from storage, but warm from nearby firelight.
Lightweight.
Money meant very little to him personally.
It meant opportunity in this world.
It meant resources.
He closed his fingers around it.
His hand trembled faintly.
Only for a moment.
Then steadied.
They stepped away from the counter.
There was no celebration.
Veteran hunters simply nodded as they passed.
Some gave glances toward Kel.
Not challengingly.
Respectfully.
Quietly.
As if marking him.
Mara lifted her pouch and tossed it slightly in the air, catching it again.
"Could've bought a new whetstone."
Jace snorted.
"Buy two. That thing chipped your axe."
Baird inspected his coins with mild satisfaction.
Torren tied his pouch to his belt loop, eyes distant.
Lysia looked at Kel.
She tilted her head.
"You'll need arrow shafts replaced," she said.
Kel glanced at her.
"Yes."
She hesitated.
"…Some shops near the south wall carry enchanted arrowwood. For low resistance."
Kel nodded once.
"I'll find them."
Mara grinned slightly.
"He answers like he's spending coin on strategy, not supplies."
Kel didn't return the smile.
But his words held gentle dryness.
"Because I am."
That earned a short laugh from Baird.
Jace stretched, rolling his shoulders.
"All right. Drinks?"
Torren shook his head.
"Not tonight."
Mara sighed.
Baird agreed with Torren.
Lysia followed suit.
Eyes turned to Kel.
He spoke first.
"I'll return to inn."
Jace lifted a brow.
"Before rest… a piece of advice?"
Kel looked at him.
Jace gestured outward with one gloved hand.
"Today, you fought like someone who has no intention of dying," he said quietly. "That's good."
He paused.
Then added, softer—
"But tomorrow… you should rest like someone who intends to live."
Kel held his gaze.
For a moment.
Then turned his eyes away—not in avoidance, but acknowledgment.
"…I will consider it."
They parted.
No formal goodbyes.
Only nods.
Scattered footsteps through slush.
Snow resumed claiming the earth outside.
On the Street
Kel walked alone.
Inn-bound.
Pouch of coins resting in his palm.
The city's main street was quieter now. Vendors had already shuttered their stalls. Cold lamps flickered beneath metal housings. A distant bell tolled, marking the turn toward late evening.
He observed the snow in the lamplight.
Sharp flakes glimmered as they fell.
He lifted his coin pouch slightly.
The soft chime of coin against coin was muted by wrapped leather.
Something about the sound felt…
Distant.
He remembered the day's hunts.
The arrows.
The bodies.
The Alpha.
He measured internal cost.
Arms strained.
Breathing uneven.
Curse irritated.
He calculated.
Recovery time required: eight hours minimum.
Movement capacity: moderate tomorrow, heavy suppression early morning.
Training capacity: limited, archery only if minimal strain.
He looked up.
Snow fell against his pale lashes.
He blinked.
This money will be used to purchase arrowwood… bowstring resin… and rations.
Not luxury.
Not rest.
He continued walking.
His boots pressing quiet prints into the snow-blotted path.
Inside the Inn
The Brass Dagger was warm.
A subdued warmth—not loud with music or laughter. Just steady fire, faint spice from cooking, quiet murmur of travelers.
Kel stepped through.
Reina looked up from the corner table, a book set beside a half-finished cup. Landon sat across from her, polishing his sword with focused care.
Both paused.
Their eyes went to Kel immediately.
They noted his torn glove at the fingertips.
The faint red mark under his eye, from where windburn and strain had touched him.
The slight drag in his step.
Reina's gaze darkened.
Landon straightened.
Kel approached calmly.
Reina's lips parted—
He raised a hand.
"No injuries," he said simply. "Physical strain. I will recover."
Landon's brows furrowed.
"You hunted?"
Kel nodded.
"A group from the yard approached."
Reina's eyes narrowed further.
"Did that not…"
A pause.
"…risk revealing something?"
Kel set the coin pouch on the table.
"It returned practice yield."
Landon's eyes widened slightly.
Reina slowly reached out, touching the pouch lightly.
"You earned this?"
Kel nodded.
She did not smile.
But some tension eased from her shoulders.
"Did you… harm yourself doing it?"
Kel answered with quiet honesty.
"Slightly."
She folded her hands.
Silence stretched.
Then she gave a slow exhale.
"Will you rest?"
Kel held her gaze.
…
"Yes."
Landon nodded approvingly.
Reina closed the book gently.
Kel sat.
The chair creaked faintly under his weight.
He loosened his gloves.
Breath slow.
Snow still clung to his cloak's edge.
He removed it, folding it neatly.
Reina stood, moving to fetch warm water without asking.
Landon left, returning moments later with bandages and herbal paste.
Kel didn't stop them.
He simply watched the way steam rose from the wooden bowl as Reina placed it before him.
A different kind of warmth.
He dipped his fingers into the water.
Let them thaw.
Let the ache soften.
Outside the window, snow fell.
Soft.
Unrushed.
Kel's eyes lowered to the steam.
Today, arrows led breath.
Tomorrow, breath must steady arrow.
He spoke quietly.
More to himself than to them.
"Tomorrow, we move."
Neither Reina nor Landon argued.
They only listened.
And in quiet—
Knowing he would walk into harsher roads—
Kel allowed his eyes to close.
Not in collapse.
But in deliberate pause.