## Chapter 422 — First Light in Merrowford

Lethira woke first. For a few seconds she did not know why. Nothing in the room had changed badly. Her bow was where she had left it, her knives within reach, the door still latched. Beyond the shutters, Merrowford was beginning the day in small noises: a cart finding an uneven patch of road, shutters opening somewhere below, an animal in the inn yard objecting to work before sunrise had properly become morning.

Ian slept beside her. The blanket had twisted towards his side during the night. One pillow sat lower than the other. Lethira's hair, washed with more effort than fighting some small monsters had required, had dried in several different opinions. Her arm lay across Ian's side, half pinned between his shoulder and the mattress.

She looked at him. The machine had not improved him overnight. His black Earth T-shirt was too smooth and regular against locally woven linen, his beard flattened slightly on one side by the pillow. Somehow that pleased her more than a perfect image would have. Yesterday returned in pieces: the last miles into Merrowford, the new clothes, fish stolen by surrender, the bathhouse, black underclothes that apparently justified the selective use of omnipotence. Then the translucent writing above the bathwater and Ian's request that the power behind him refuse any attempt to alter her mind, memory or person.

It had not made trust provable. She had told him that herself. She trusted him anyway. Her hand rested against his side through the T-shirt. The memory that arrived with the touch was less philosophical: Ian between her legs in the hot water, breathing harder as she held him; the way his body answered her fingers before he found words for it; the deliberate point at which wanting more had become stopping.

Lethira closed her eyes for a moment. "Ridiculous man," she whispered.

Quietly enough not to wake him. Her own body still carried yesterday's road as mild heaviness through the calves and a pull in one hip. Ian had asked his projected body to know something of travel too, scaled to let him share the road without pretending he had her experience. Now that she had finally seen him unclothed, the shape of that choice made more sense. His legs showed years of walking. His hands showed a much gentler history.

His left hand lay above the blanket. The pale craft-knife scar beneath his thumbnail was barely visible in the grey light. Lethira decided not to tease him about it again. Probably. The room brightened by degrees. Merrowford emerged around the edges of the shutters, then through them: roofs, smoke, a strip of pale sky. The town had changed since she had known it well. That remained one of the best things about being here.

Somewhere outside was a candle shop that no longer existed, streets widened or narrowed by people with no obligation to preserve her memories, businesses whose signs meant nothing to her. Ian had asked to see her world. This was part of it too. Eventually her trapped arm began to object. Lethira eased it free with the slow care of someone extracting herself from a badly placed snare. Pins and needles ran into her fingers. She flexed them under the blanket and frowned.

A B-rank-worthy battle with circulation, she thought. Ian would enjoy that far too much. She decided to tell him. Later. For now there was no reason to wake him. Nothing waited on a schedule. She stayed on her side while Merrowford became fully morning.

Ian woke without confusion, looked up at her and smiled. "Good morning, fair Elf."

Lethira's answering smile came easily. "Good morning, strange human."

She had already been awake long enough to have opinions, which she considered an advantage. "You sleep very quietly. Suspiciously quietly."

Her hand emerged from beneath the blanket and flexed. "My arm, however, has suffered. I woke with it trapped long enough that my fingers stopped respecting me."

She glanced at the offending hand. "I considered this an ambush. Unfortunately, the evidence suggests I put the arm there myself."

The smile ruined the accusation. Outside, the inn yard had acquired voices. Someone laughed below. Wood struck wood in the kitchen. Merrowford was well ahead of them.

"I was going to let you sleep," she said. "The town is awake. We are not required to be."

She stretched one leg beneath the blanket, then the other. "I find this an excellent beginning to a day."

"I agree. May I offer my efficient combing services to that wonderful display atop your beautiful face?"

Lethira's hand went automatically to the side of her hair that had suffered most from sleep. She found a bend, brought it forward and inspected it.

"Wonderful display."

The description was doubtful. Then she looked at Ian. "Yes. Ordinary combing. Untangle it, put the loose strands in order and leave me looking like someone who actually slept."

Ian performed the feat. The result was modest enough to satisfy her. Knots separated as though patient fingers and a good comb had worked from the ends upward. The bed-bends eased. Her ash-brown hair settled into its usual fall without becoming glossy, perfumed or absurdly exact.

Lethira passed her fingers through it twice. "Hm."

She checked the ends. "That is acceptable."

Her gaze shifted to Ian. "Annoyingly acceptable."

He glanced towards their clothes. "Is normal levels of washing clothes OK too? I am all for the real experience, but... dirty clothes I'm happy to limit to a day's accumulation?"

Lethira followed his gaze. Yesterday's road remained honestly present in the cloth: sweat, dust at the hems, the smell of town and travel.

"Yes. Cloth."

She pointed towards her belt, boots, bow and leather fittings. "Not leather. Not the bow. Not anything oiled because you decide oil looks like dirt. And normal clean."

She paused. "I am beginning to understand that this requires saying aloud."

The washable clothes changed. No water appeared. No process announced itself. The result was simply what Ian had asked for: the equivalent of a quick modern wash, thoroughly rinsed, dry and cooled as though they had come from a tumble dryer. Wear remained wear. Dye remained uneven where it had always been uneven. The wool had not shrunk or lost its structure.

Lethira picked up her shirt and rubbed the cloth between thumb and forefinger. Then again. She pressed it against her cheek. Her eyes narrowed.

"You did something else."

The accusation was immediate. She rubbed the fabric again. "This is softer."

The change was small, but present: not silk, not transformed material, only the slight ease of fibres after modern fabric softener. Lethira stared at the shirt.

"What did you do?"

The explanation reached her. "Softener."

She repeated the unfamiliar category. "You have a substance whose purpose is to make already clean clothing feel nicer."

Another test against her forearm. "This is absurd."

A second stroke. "I object."

Her mouth had already betrayed her. Ian's own near-black road shirt and charcoal trousers had received the same treatment. Lethira checked the wool cloak with more seriousness, pinching the weave and inspecting a seam.

"You preserved the cloth."

Relief softened her expression. "Good."

The garments represented spun thread, dye, weaving, cutting and fitting. Cleaning them was useful. Treating that labour as irrelevant would have been something else. Lethira folded the shirt over her lap.

"I will allow this."

The pronouncement deserved a seal. "Under protest."

She tested the sleeve again. "Possibly regular protest."

Morning light had reached the whole room now. Breakfast smells were climbing the stairs. Lethira sat up and looked at the clean clothes, then at Ian.

"Yesterday you bought local clothing instead of creating it. You walked here instead of appearing here. This morning you have used impossible power to avoid ten minutes with a comb and an inconvenient amount of laundry."

She touched the softened sleeve once more. "I think I am beginning to understand your priorities."

Then she stood and began dressing. The shirt settled against her skin. Lethira stopped for half a second. Her eyes closed. Ian had won something.

She opened them. "Say nothing."

The trousers followed. Another brief pause. "This is how corruption begins."

She fastened them. "Not demons. Laundry."

Her belt, knives and travelling layers returned the familiar shape of the warden. Her hair remained ordered rather than immaculate. At the door she looked back.

"I am not allowing every road day to smell freshly washed. That would be ridiculous."

Her fingers found the softened sleeve again. "But one day's accumulation seems..."

She searched for a word she did not resent. "...civilised."

Breakfast saved her from the concession. "And if you tell anyone in Merrowford that a Wood Elf can be seduced by fabric softener, I will deny everything."

Ian laughed. "Some level of minor service feels a fair exchange for such an excellent guide to this world."

"A sensible arrangement."

"Onward adventurer, to breakfast!"

Ian made it almost as far as the spirit of departure before looking down. No trousers. Lethira followed his gaze. There was a long, controlled silence.

"In a moment."

She turned towards the door. Her shoulders were shaking before she reached it. Ian finished dressing and followed her down. The Reed and Wheel was a different room in daylight. Last night's lamps had hidden scratches in the boards and softened the corners of the furniture. Now shutters stood open and breakfast belonged to people going somewhere: merchants eating beside document cases, labourers with bowls held close, a pair of travellers already dressed for the road.

The innkeeper saw them descend. Lethira could not tell whether her glance at Ian's trousers meant anything. She chose to believe it did. Breakfast was simple: coarse grain porridge, dark bread, fried eggs, reheated roots with onion, smoked river fish, honey and dark berry preserve. Lethira took porridge, an egg, bread and a little fish.

"Human road breakfast."

She added a restrained amount of honey. "Large enough that you can regret it during the first hill."

The first spoonful persuaded her to add more. No comment accompanied the correction. Ian's new clothes changed how he sat in the room. Yesterday, black jeans and a machine-perfect T-shirt had announced foreignness before anyone heard his voice. The local shirt and charcoal trousers made him a traveller with peculiar preferences rather than a category problem. His protected German army boots remained stranger if anyone cared to look closely.

Lethira gestured towards him with her spoon. "Better. Yesterday you looked as though you had arrived from another world."

A beat. "Which was inconveniently accurate."

She ate again. "Today you look as though you come from somewhere far away and have opinions about colour."

A serving girl left a pot of hot water steeped with woody leaves. The drink was bitter and faintly herbal. Lethira tasted it, grimaced faintly and drank again. "That hasn't improved." Outside, the market road grew steadily busier. Carts moved towards the centre. A man carrying wicker cages went past with something inside objecting. A hammer began striking metal farther away.

Lethira watched the street for a while. "This is what I wanted you to see. Merrowford when you happened to arrive, not Merrowford preserved for me."

She glanced down at her sleeve when her thumb caught itself rubbing the softened cloth. Ian saw. "No."

He had said nothing. "Whatever expression you are about to make, no."

She looked back outside. "The old candle shop is gone. I don't know the bathhouse. Half the signs mean nothing to me. The town is still busy being itself."

She tore a piece of bread. "We can stay today. We can leave. We can decide after lunch. That is better than arriving with a route already fixed."

A few minutes later she leaned back, breakfast mostly finished. Her attention moved briefly towards the stairs. "I should also record an important cultural discovery."

The seriousness was false. "When a human says 'Onward, adventurer,' always verify that he is wearing trousers."

She took the last bite of egg before Ian could answer. The joke settled with the meal. Then Ian said, "I'd like to ask a little about adventuring, if I may." Lethira stopped with her cup halfway to her mouth.

"You may."

Ian paused, giving her space to leave the subject there. When she did not, he continued. "I know that Thomas and Isha registered as adventurers, when Green Road was two, and her rank came from skill and experience, his from testing of mana and so on. They took quests. Some involved monsters, some normal creatures, some more normal human problems. I guess I had two questions."

Lethira listened. "Did you ever register? Are you still?"

She turned the cup slowly against the table. "I have worked through Guilds. I have taken work beside Guild adventurers, carried Guild-recognised reports and used their halls because sometimes they are the easiest way to find out why three farms are complaining about the same patch of woodland."

She thought back. "I did register. A long time ago. It was useful while travelling human territory, especially when Aelira needed something investigated and I did not want every conversation to begin with whether an elf was allowed to solve the problem."

Her mouth curved. "I was never a Guild adventurer in the way Green Road became one. It was a tool."

She glanced towards the market square. "As for whether I am still registered..."

A pause. "I have no idea."

Ian received a completely serious look. "It has been a long time. My name may still be in a ledger. Someone may have written *probably dead* beside it because humans become pessimistic when an elf does not visit for several decades."

She drank. "I would rather ask than invent their procedure."

Ian waited, then asked the second question. "Could we... adventure? Not sure if here is a good place to do it, but somewhere."

Lethira looked beyond him towards the street. Two people in practical road equipment were passing towards the centre of town, one carrying rope over a shoulder. A board of notices had been raised outside a market stall. Nothing about the morning suggested destiny.

"Yes."

She looked back. "I would like to."

Her smile grew. "Actual work. Something that already needs doing. Not a problem made because we wanted one."

That limit required no more explanation. "Merrowford is a good place to ask. It has farms, roads, river traffic, woodland, ordinary Guild work. I also know enough of the country to recognise when a posting sounds wrong."

Her eyes narrowed slightly at him. "There is an obvious complication."

"You."

The word was affectionate. "You have no Guild rank, no local field history and no sensible answer if someone asks what you can do. *Anything, but I promise not to* is not a useful speciality."

She sat back. "So we ask what the Guild wants from someone accompanying registered work. If they want you registered, you can decide what to do after they explain it. If they let an unranked companion come on low work, perhaps that is simpler."

She counted his useful qualifications with her fingers. "You can walk. You listen when I tell you a road is dangerous. You are healthy. You are learning where to stand. Your boots are excellent."

Her gaze dropped. "Your trousers now exist."

Then she smiled. "And you are travelling with me."

Ian nodded. "I only mentioned Green Road as that's my only knowledge of the subject. I have no interest in doing what they did or how they did it. It's my only reference point, sorry if I use it too often."

"You don't need to apologise. They are the adventurers you know."

Lethira turned her cup between her hands. "I only object if you start treating their road as a list of attractions."

Her eyes returned to him. "And you haven't."

"I am also happy to be your aid, servant, or simply a person accompanying an adventurer, or whatever else fits in to keep it easy for the Guild. I could register as a rank E or whatever it starts at. I assume your registration, if it exists, would be higher than that, so that probably counts for it."

Lethira raised one finger. "Companion. Aid, perhaps."

The finger remained raised. "Not servant."

There was no offence in the correction. "If a Guild form has a technical category meaning assistant under somebody else's contract, fine. But I am not walking into a human Guild and announcing that the strange human travelling with a Wood Elf is her servant."

She lowered the hand. "I have spent too long correcting people who invent ownership when they see elves and humans together."

Ian accepted that and continued. "Do you have some kind of talisman, card, writ, mark, chit, or something back home that identifies you? I could bring it here, with your consent, if it helps. I forgot to ask before we set off, which is normally a huge problem."

Lethira laughed. "A huge problem. We are perhaps ten minutes from the institution capable of answering the question."

She searched her memory. "I do still have an old Guild tag. Small wooden thing. Name, Guild mark, rank. Unless I moved it the last time I reorganised my travel things."

"But don't fetch it. Not yet."

The decision came cleanly. "If the record still exists here, they can find it. If they actually need the tag, we can decide then."

Her smile sharpened. "Your omnipotence is not required to solve forgetting a card at home until someone asks for the card."

Ian went on. "And yes I want to help people too. If the opportunity to see you defeat a small goblin appears, I shall enjoy seeing you fight. Also, if you're actually a rank A and we have to save a kitten from a tree that would be most amusing also."

Lethira leaned back. "A goblin."

She considered him. "You have been waiting to see me shoot something."

"I don't mind. If a real goblin creates a real problem and the appropriate solution happens to involve an arrow, you may enjoy yourself."

Her expression turned drier. "But goblins are not theatre. A small one can still cut someone open or travel with larger friends. If it happens, you listen when I tell you where to stand."

Then she pictured the other possibility. "An ancient Wood Elf warden. More than a century fighting corrupted beasts."

A solemn pause. "Cat in tree."

She failed. "I would take that job immediately."

Laughter took the rest of the sentence, but she recovered enough to add, "And I would insist upon filing the report." She mimed writing.

"*Creature recovered from elevated wooden position. No casualties. No arrows expended. Human companion provided unnecessary commentary.*"

The image pleased her far too much. "So. We go to the Guild. We ask whether my registration still exists. We ask what they require for you. Then we look at the board."

Ian nodded. "Agreed. And you choose the job, I'm happy with whatever."

He stood. "Let's go."

Lethira rose with him. The walk to the Guild took them farther into Merrowford's morning. Carts stood half-unloaded beside open-fronted shops. A fish seller washed his boards towards the gutter. Someone had spilled onions badly enough that two apprentices were retrieving them from beneath passing feet.

Lethira knew the direction better than the details. Once she started towards a lane from memory and stopped at a wall that had not existed when she knew the town well.

"This used to go through."

She regarded the masonry. "It no longer does."

They went around. The Adventurers' Guild remained near the market square. The building had not remained untouched. The old stone foundation was recognisable beneath newer timberwork. The frontage had widened into the neighbouring plot, and a covered posting area now sheltered several boards from weather. The painted sign still showed a sword, a staff and a boot.

Lethira stopped beneath it. "Oh, good."

She pointed at the boot. "They kept the honest part."

Inside, the Guild smelled of leather, damp wool, paper, old timber and metal oil. Most of the adventurers were doing administration. A spear rested beside a man arguing about a broken lantern. Two women in muddy boots compared a hand map with the larger one held by a clerk. A young human with an arm in a sling filled in a form with his other hand and looked personally offended by handwriting.

Lethira took in the room. "Still a Guild."

They went to records. The clerk was a human woman somewhere past forty, cropped brown-grey hair, ink along one finger, no visible expectation of entertainment.

"Current registration?"

"Old registration."

"How old?"

Lethira considered. "Old enough that answering in human years will make this conversation longer."

The clerk looked up, registered the ears and asked for her name. "Lethira Dawnleaf."

The current index gave her nothing. A second ledger also gave her nothing. The clerk disappeared through a rear door and returned with a flatter book whose cover had been darkened by years of handling.

"Older cross-branch register."

Her finger travelled down the page. Then stopped. "Lethira Dawnleaf. Wood Elf. Warden and field scout. Bow, knife, woodland pursuit, hostile-beast response."

Lethira nodded. "That sounds like me."

"B-rank."

Lethira stopped nodding. "B?"

The clerk checked. "B."

Lethira leaned slightly towards the ledger. "I thought C."

"You were C."

The clerk turned the book enough for her to see a later line and endorsement. "Advanced later. Long field history, cross-branch work, repeated contracts above grade."

Lethira stared at the old record. Memory arrived by association: an assessment she had considered unnecessary, a branch official insisting that if she kept doing work above the tag she should stop making clerks explain it, Aelira laughing at her irritation.

"Oh."

She looked at Ian. "Yes. I remember that now."

Her mouth curved. "Apparently your Rank A joke was only one letter wrong."

The clerk glanced between them and wisely declined the invitation. "Status is inactive," she said. "The rank remains in the archive. If you want current B authority, we reissue the identity and do the local checks."

"I don't need B work."

"Then for low-risk postings today, the archived identity is enough."

That solved the important part without turning breakfast into bureaucracy. "And him?" Lethira asked.

The clerk looked at Ian. "Registered?"

"No."

Lethira did not answer questions about his skills for him. "Treat him as unranked."

"For E-rank work, a registered contractor can bring an unranked aide unless the posting forbids it. He gets no independent rank or completion credit."

Lethira's face brightened. "Perfect."

"If he wants registration later, that's a separate process," the clerk said. She glanced back at the old entry. "Do you still have the tag?"

"At home."

The clerk made a small note beside the archived record. "Bring it if it's convenient when you want the B reissue. The archive is enough for today."

"Also perfect," Lethira said.

Lethira looked at Ian. "We can survive without retrieving forgotten paperwork from another part of the world."

The clerk's pen paused at *another part of the world*, but she did not ask what it meant. The posting boards offered exactly the kind of work Ian had hoped existed. Cellar pests. A missing goat. Thorn growth around a drainage marker. Warehouse night-watch after something had chewed grain sacks. A brewer wanted someone to identify the creature scratching beneath an old floor.

Lethira lingered on the goat. "No."

She moved on before the kitten joke acquired momentum. Then she found an E-rank missing-livestock notice. A sheep keeper on the north-eastern edge of the farming belt had lost two sheep over three nights. A third had returned at dawn with its tether trailing and no obvious wound. Disturbed ground showed along a hedge; the owner could not identify the tracks. The request was simple: identify the cause if possible, recover live animals if practical, prevent an immediate repeat, and return to the Guild if the sign indicated something above grade.

Unranked aide permitted. Lethira read it twice. "This."

No monster promised. No battle promised. It might be a bad hedge. She removed the posting. "You said whatever."

Her smile was immediate. "So whatever is missing sheep."

At the desk, the clerk checked the notice and Lethira's temporary authority, then wrote the holding directions: beyond the north-east kitchen gardens, past a split willow, a little over an hour on foot.

"Owner's Halren," she said. "If you find organised goblin sign, multiple predators, armed theft or anything corrupted, return rather than pursue. He wants sheep back, not heroic corpses."

"So do I."

The clerk set out the contract line for Lethira and a shorter one for the permitted aide. She wrote Lethira's name from the archive, then turned the second line towards Ian.

"Your name and mark."

"Ian Kirk."

Ian signed in the familiar English scrawl his hand had been making for years. The letters looked immediately foreign on the Guild paper. Compact modern handwriting had grown from a world of forms and signatures where a name did not need to remain readable to everyone who saw it. The clerk turned the sheet slightly.

"That's your mark?"

Ian had already made it. She seemed to be checking the category rather than asking for a second decision. Lethira leaned enough to see. Her attention stopped on the name.

"Kirk."

Ian realised, a little late, that he had never given her that part. For every impossible conversation they had already managed—his world, his family, the machine, what he could change and what he refused to change—he had reached Merrowford, slept beside her twice and shared a bath before supplying his family name. Lethira looked at him. There was surprise first, then amusement at the order of things.

"Ian Kirk."

She tried the full name. "I have seen you naked before learning your complete name."

The clerk's pen stopped for the smallest possible moment. Professional discipline resumed. Lethira noticed. "This journey is proceeding in an unusual order."

The clerk inspected Ian's signature again. "It's acceptable. A mark has to be yours. It does not have to be readable as a name."

Her eyes crossed the scrawl once more. "Which is fortunate."

Lethira's smile widened. The clerk sanded the ink, added her own neat notation and issued a small wooden contract token bearing the posting number. Outside, the market met them again. Lethira stopped beneath the Guild sign.

"Kirk."

She said it once more. Then she looked at the token. "B-rank warden and unranked aide."

Her eyes returned to Ian. "Try not to let the power difference trouble you."

She started towards the north-eastern road. Ian followed. "I'm trying to not let the power difference result in my E-rank registration failing being 'too aroused at Elven power to spot a sheep had escaped'. I don't think they'd let me try again."

Lethira stopped. Then she turned with grave patience. "You are not E-rank."

A pause. "You are currently *unranked*. So if you fail to notice the sheep because my archived B-rank status overwhelms your concentration, you will have achieved professional incompetence before receiving professional standing."

Her control failed into laughter. "And if the report requires a cause, I am not writing *excessive elven power*."

She considered. "*Assistant distracted by contractor* is accurate enough."

Ian's excitement was still badly hidden. "But no, this is good. Shall we... go adventure?"

Something in Lethira answered it. "We shall."

Ian touched the earlier point again. "I also feel vindicated at the transport of Guild mark request. We shall be revisiting that discussion later."

Lethira pointed the contract token at him. "No."

The denial was too quick to be final. "You proposed omnipotence to solve paperwork which the Guild has just told me I do not need today. That is not vindication."

A beat. "That is being accidentally correct about future administrative inconvenience."

She lowered the token. "We may revisit it. After the sheep."

The old tag mattered now if she wanted her B-rank identity properly restored. Somewhere back in her travel storage lay a small piece of wood she had ignored for decades. She disliked how much this strengthened his argument. The road widened ahead.

"First lesson of adventuring."

Her smile returned. "The sheep does not care how excited you are."

"Good."

Ian followed her into the countryside, briefly squeezing her hand. Lethira's fingers closed around his at once. Her thumb brushed the side of his hand before the morning traffic made side-by-side walking less practical. Merrowford thinned gradually rather than ending. Workshops with broad yards gave way to kitchen gardens, small orchards, fenced pigs and chickens, then hedges and larger fields. Smoke and cooked food weakened behind them. Damp earth, manure and vegetation took over.

Lethira's pace settled into the rhythm Ian had learned over the previous two days. They passed a maintained ditch feeding narrow cuts towards fields. At a muddy gateway she slowed and pointed to broad wheel marks.

"Cart. Recent."

Paired hoof marks crossed them. "Two cattle."

Then smaller prints cut diagonally through both. "Dog."

Once she indicated them, the pattern became obvious. "Congratulations. We have survived our first tracking problem."

The road climbed gently. Merrowford gathered behind them around river, palisade and newer houses. Ahead lay low fields divided by hedge and drainage, barns and houses placed according to slope, water and old property lines. A flock of sheep occupied one distant paddock. Another field stood close-cropped.

Beyond it, a man was repairing a fence beside a low house and barn. "Likelier ours."

Lethira slowed before entering the holding. Her attention moved over gate, barn, animals, hedges and the drainage line beyond. Nothing announced danger. A sheep near the gate stared at them. Lethira stared back.

The sheep chewed. "That one is clearly concealing something."

Then she raised one hand towards the farmer rather than arriving silently behind someone holding a mallet. "Guild!"

The man turned. He was perhaps in his fifties, broad through ordinary farm work, greying hair badly cut and a wooden mallet in one hand. His eyes went to Lethira's bow, her ears, Ian, then briefly towards the road behind them as if checking for the rest of the party. Lethira stopped outside the gate.

"Lethira Dawnleaf. Guild contract for the missing sheep."

She showed the token. Relief reached his face. "Halren. You came quickly."

"Breakfast was efficient."

He opened the gate. "Come through. I'll show you where the last one came back."

Ian followed a little behind, enough that Lethira remained clearly the person Halren had hired. He let her work and watched. The first surprise was how little adventuring looked like adventure. Lethira began with the farmer.

"Show me the sheep that returned."

Halren led them to a smaller pen where six sheep regarded the visitors with collective distrust. One stood apart with a length of cord trailing from its neck.

Lethira stayed outside the pen while she questioned him. "When did you last see this one where it belonged?"

"Night before last. Evening feed. It came back near dawn yesterday; my daughter heard it against the gate."

"Alone?"

Halren nodded. "Outside. The gate was still shut."

Lethira watched the sheep rather than the farmer. "Anything on the fleece? Blood, mud, burrs?"

Halren thought before answering. "Mud underneath. More than usual. Nothing bloody."

"Did you wash it?"

"No."

"Good." Lethira's attention returned to the animal; whatever had happened, the surviving traces had not been scrubbed away.

He opened the pen. Lethira entered and let the sheep move away rather than chasing it. She watched it walk first. No obvious limp. No change in breathing. Only then did she ask Halren to hold it while she examined the trailing tether.

The break was not at the neck. She bent the loose end between finger and thumb. "Frayed."

She showed Halren the fibres. "Could have been worried by teeth. Nobody cut it cleanly."

Mud had dried thickly around the lower fleece and one flank. "Where does this field drain?"

Halren pointed towards the hedge beyond the barn. They went there next. The paddock looked disappointingly intact. The gate closed. The hedge was dense. Halren indicated a patch of disturbed ground.

Lethira did not start there. She walked the inside edge first. Slowly. Sometimes she touched a broken twig and left it. At another place she crouched beside flattened grass long enough that Ian could not tell what distinguished it from all the other flattened grass.

Halren began to explain. Lethira raised one hand for quiet. He stopped. A few seconds later she stood. "That isn't where they left."

"But the tracks—"

"Are there."

She continued around the field. Ian began to understand the method. Lethira was learning what normal looked like before trusting anything unusual. Where sheep regularly walked the fence. Where Halren crossed with feed. Where water collected. Which hedge branches were broken every week because animals leaned through them.

At the north-east corner she pushed two low branches aside. A narrow passage existed behind them. Something had repeatedly forced through at ground level, compressing old leaves into the soil. Wool clung to a thorn. Halren stared.

"I checked the whole hedge."

"You checked it standing."

Lethira lowered almost to one knee. "Sheep are shorter."

Beyond the hedge, a shallow groove descended towards a drainage ditch. She climbed through and crouched beside the mud. "One sheep definitely passed here."

Halren started after her. "Stay this side a moment."

He stopped. Lethira crossed the ditch. The far bank had held prints beneath the shade. She pointed. "Sheep."

Another. "Dog."

Halren shook his head. "Not mine. We don't keep one."

"Could be another farm."

Then she found a third print: longer, four-toed, the heel narrower. Lethira measured it with her fingers. "Canid. Too little here to call it a wolf."

Farther along, vegetation on the bank had been flattened by something sliding or being dragged. A few hoof marks survived at the edge. Lethira touched the soil.

"No blood."

"That's good?"

"It means there wasn't much bleeding here."

A short length of Halren's tether cord lay beside wool caught in bramble. The fibres were frayed, with a crushed section that looked chewed rather than worn. Lethira stood.

"This animal did not simply wander away."

"What took it?"

"I don't know yet."

For the first time that morning she unslung her bow. Nothing dramatic followed. The bow simply belonged in her hand now. "We follow as far as the sign remains clear."

Ian had wanted to watch the art of adventuring. So far it had consisted mostly of questions, mud and refusing to pretend. Once they had moved beyond the farm buildings, Ian asked quietly, "Should I hang back a little? Or am I OK at your side... whichever side is the least in the way." Lethira stopped.

"Good question."

She gestured to a place one or two paces behind and slightly offset. "For now, there. Not directly behind my heels and not shoulder to shoulder. If I stop suddenly, I don't want you walking into me. If I need the bow, I want room to move."

Her mouth twitched. "Your face has survived enough today."

Then she gave him the useful signals: closed hand meant stop; a point to the ground meant look before moving; if the path narrowed, follow where she stepped. He did not need to crouch simply because she crouched.

"At my side is for roads and places where we understand the problem."

She looked ahead. "This is where I don't."

They continued. Lethira did not stare constantly at the ground. Her gaze moved ahead, sideways and occasionally upward. Tracks seemed to confirm a direction rather than become a line she followed. She stopped.

Closed hand. Ian stopped. She pointed to one bent stem and a patch of damp earth beneath it. "Hoof."

Another mark lay several feet away. "Running here."

They moved on. A bird burst from the grass. Lethira barely reacted. Another lifted from a hedge. Again, nothing.

Then she stopped so abruptly that the difference became obvious before Ian knew why. She listened. Wind. Insects. A distant sheep. Leaves.

After a few seconds she relaxed slightly. "Something ahead stopped moving when we approached."

Her voice stayed low. "Could be a rabbit. Could be a bird on the ground. Could be something that noticed us."

She continued. "I don't draw conclusions because a sound was interesting."

Farther on, strands of wool clung to the bark of a young tree. Beneath the shaded side, a canid print survived in softer soil. Lethira crouched.

"Same kind as the ditch. Probably the same animal."

The tracks crossed the sheep's path rather than following it continuously. She searched left, returned, then right. "This wasn't chasing all the way."

The bow remained low. She moved ahead alone for fifteen paces, disappeared behind low hazel-like growth and crouched. When she returned, her voice was quieter.

"There is a place ahead where something has been lying down. More than once. Canid hair. Sheep wool. Old bones, mostly rabbit-sized."

She glanced back. "I don't yet think this is a monster. Possibly a feral working dog, possibly something wild that has learned livestock are easier than rabbits."

Her expression shifted towards amusement. "Your first adventure may involve a sheep kidnapping committed by an extremely competent dog."

Then the humour passed. "Stay two paces behind me now. If I stop, you stop."

"Yes, of course."

Ian proceeded cautiously and fascinated. The thin woodland sat on a shallow ridge between farms, too awkward and stony to have been cleared profitably. Old boundary stones appeared under moss. A drainage cut ran along one side with dark mud at the bottom. Lethira stepped into it and immediately crouched.

Closed hand. Ian stopped. Two sets of marks crossed the mud. One canid. One sheep.

They ran almost parallel. Lethira followed the drainage cut for twenty paces. More prints survived beneath leaves. Again, sheep and canid. Together. "This is wrong."

She glanced back. "Useful wrong."

The marks ahead looked like travel, not panic. No scattering hoof prints, no turn where a predator had struck, no blood, no sign of a struggle. They left the ditch and the ridge began to descend. A sheep bleated. Lethira's head turned.

Another answered. She raised one finger to her lips and pointed ahead. They moved towards the sound until broken stone appeared among thorn and young trees. A low wall, partly collapsed. Old roof timbers. Three surviving sides of a field shelter making a dry hollow.

Lethira stopped behind a broad tree. She leaned out enough to see. Then withdrew. Her expression was an effort not to laugh. She gestured Ian closer to the tree.

"Two sheep."

Her mouth twitched. "Alive."

A pause. "And a dog."

She let him look from cover. The missing sheep stood inside the ruined shelter. One was chewing. The other lay down. In front of the entrance rested a large rough-coated dog, dark brown-grey broken by paler patches, thick around the neck. One ear stood upright. The other folded halfway over.

A length of frayed rope lay beside its paws. The dog was awake. It was watching the sheep. Lethira lowered her forehead against the tree for two seconds. Then she looked again.

The dog rose and walked into the shelter. One sheep stood. The dog moved to its side. The sheep turned. The dog shifted again until the animal stepped back towards the dry corner.

Lethira stared. "Oh."

She backed away from the tree until they were screened. "I think it is herding them."

The sentence sounded ridiculous even to her. "Not hunting."

She crouched, reconstructing the sign aloud. "It gets through the hedge at night. Worries through the tether. Drives an animal here."

Her expression brightened. "The sheep are alive because it isn't taking prey."

A beat. "It is stealing livestock to look after them."

She laughed quietly. "This is the best possible first adventure."

Then field calm returned. "Do not approach it yet. A trained dog can still hurt you badly if it thinks you are taking its flock."

She studied the shelter. "No collar that I can see. No person. The shelter has not been used by people recently."

She looked back at Ian. "Still fascinated?"

"Very much so, you're amazing."

Lethira's attention shifted from the ruin to him. For a moment the warden disappeared behind the woman. A little colour reached her face.

"I have spent the last half-hour looking at mud."

The protest lacked force. "And discovered a dog."

Her smile grew despite herself. "Possibly the least impressive B-rank work I have ever done."

Then, simply, "Thank you." She adjusted the bow back onto her shoulder. "Stay here for a moment. I want to know whether it is frightened of people before we put two strangers in front of it."

She went into the open with both hands visible. The dog appeared in the entrance almost immediately. Lethira stopped at a generous distance.

"Hello."

The animal's tail stayed low, its weight slightly forward. It did not bark. Lethira lowered into a crouch. "Those are not your sheep."

The dog stared at her. One sheep bleated. Its head turned immediately to check. Then it returned its attention to Lethira. "Oh, you really are guarding them."

The dog stepped out. Its ribs showed beneath the rough coat when it turned. Lethira's face changed. "You're hungry."

She placed one hand low against the grass and waited. The dog did not come close enough for contact, but it circled to keep itself between Lethira and the shelter.

"Yes."

She watched the movement. "You think they're yours."

When she returned to Ian, concentration had replaced the earlier laughter. "It has worked sheep before. Almost certainly."

She touched her own neck. "Old collar wear under the coat. It protects the animals, knows how to move them and is underfed."

Her gaze went back towards the ruin. "So now we may have two problems. Halren needs his sheep. The dog may have lost a person."

Lethira considered the surrounding land. "If it belonged nearby, somebody may be looking for it. If the owner died or left, it may simply be doing the work it knows."

The sheep bleated again. "Apparently with a self-selected flock."

Ian looked towards the shelter. "I could create a small amount of meat. We could gain the trust of the dog, and have it bring the sheep back to Halren. The dog seems pretty good at herding, even without a human. He could then use it? I think he said they didn't have any dogs..."

He thought again. "Maybe a strip of leather to use as a lead for it as well, unless you have something we can use."

Lethira listened. "The first half is good."

She lowered her pack and opened a small outer pocket. "But we don't need your machine for the meat."

A wrapped packet produced several strips of dried travel meat. "This smells less impressive than freshly created meat, which may help. I want it curious, not convinced the gods reward sheep theft."

She searched again and produced a length of narrow leather thong. "I carry cord because things break. I don't want to put this around its neck yet."

Her gaze returned to the old collar wear. "If it has a bad history with being caught, the lead could turn a calm problem into a bite."

She stood. "And I like letting it move the sheep. It already believes that is its job."

Then she looked at Ian. "The part I would change is deciding Halren should use it. We don't know who it belongs to, whether Halren wants a dog, or whether the dog wants Halren."

There was no speech about agency. She simply put the leather away. "We can bring them together and let the people who live here decide the rest."

Lethira held up the dried meat. "We begin with bribery."

A pause. "One of the oldest ranger techniques."

Ian nodded and let her proceed. Lethira went alone. She did not creep. Once concealment stopped being useful, she walked where the dog could see her, slow enough not to challenge it. The dog appeared in the shelter entrance.

Lethira stopped. "Yes. I know."

Its attention fixed on the meat. She placed the first strip on the ground several paces ahead, then backed away and sat on one heel. Nothing happened. One sheep bleated. The dog checked it.

Then the meat. Then Lethira. Eventually it stepped forward in a shallow curve, ate and retreated. The second piece went nearer. The dog came more quickly.

For the third, Lethira held the strip close to the grass. The dog approached until its nose was within a pace of her hand. She stayed still. It took the meat carefully from her fingers.

"Good."

She stood. The animal immediately retreated towards the shelter. Lethira let it. Then she turned partly away and walked in a broad arc.

"Come on."

The dog stayed. Lethira produced another piece. Its ears rose. She walked again. The dog followed three paces, then stopped to look back at the sheep.

Lethira stopped too and gestured towards them. "Bring them, then."

No magic translated the intent. The dog turned anyway. A moment later one sheep came out of the shelter, then the other. The dog moved behind them and occupied whatever place they least wanted it to be until both began walking. Lethira's face brightened.

She looked towards Ian. The dog brought the sheep perhaps fifteen paces before trying to circle them back to the shelter. Lethira intercepted the dog with another piece of meat and moved away again. Walk. Stop.

Food. Dog. Sheep. By the fourth repetition, the small procession had acquired a workable shape. One sheep found a patch of grass more interesting than the entire enterprise. The dog broke from Lethira, circled behind it and returned it to the other.

Lethira stared. "That is a trained dog."

The return to Halren's holding was not elegant, but it worked. A ditch interrupted them; the dog found an easy crossing. A thorn gap tempted one sheep towards the wrong side; the dog corrected it. Lethira did not hurry the animals. Near the split willow, the dog came close enough to sniff her sleeve even without food being offered.

It sniffed again. Lethira looked down at the cloth. Then towards Ian. "Fabric softener."

Her eyes narrowed. The dog sneezed. "Correct."

She offered the last strip of meat and slowly moved an empty hand towards its neck. The dog stiffened. Lethira stopped immediately and withdrew.

"Too soon."

They continued. The first sheep recognised the home fields and increased pace. The second followed. The dog accelerated with them, returning to work. Halren saw them from near the barn and stood completely still.

Lethira raised one hand. "Don't shout."

His mouth closed. Relief, confusion and disbelief passed over his face as the missing sheep approached under the supervision of the animal responsible for removing them. The dog slowed when it saw him. Lethira slowed too.

"Both alive."

Halren looked at the animals. Then the dog. "That took them?"

"Yes."

His face hardened. Lethira continued. "It also kept them alive and brought them back."

That stopped him. The dog had halted outside the gate. Its body lowered. Lethira moved slightly between Halren and the animal. "It has worked sheep before. No collar now, but there is old wear."

Halren looked closer. "Never seen it."

"We don't yet know whose it is."

One of the returned sheep pushed its head between the fence rails to reach vegetation apparently superior to everything inside the field. The dog stood. It circled towards the animal's outer side and moved it neatly back. Halren stared.

"Gods."

Lethira smiled. "Yes."

Halren looked from the dog to the flock. "What do I do with it?"

"Nothing yet."

He frowned. "It stole two sheep."

"It relocated two sheep."

Halren stared at her. Lethira's mouth twitched. "I admit the distinction may matter more to the dog than to you."

The animal sat outside the gate and watched the flock. Lethira asked about nearby working dogs. Halren knew a few holdings. Then his expression changed.

"Old Marek kept one on the upper ground past Bell Hollow. Big rough thing. One bad ear."

Lethira looked immediately at the dog's partly folded ear. "How long ago?"

"About a year." Halren's expression changed as memory caught up with the question. "Marek died in the winter. Fever. His daughter sold most of the sheep in spring."

"Did she keep the dog?"

Halren shook his head. "I don't know."

"Anyone nearby know it well?" Lethira asked, already looking across the neighbouring holdings.

Halren thought. "Yessa. Next holding beyond the fruit trees. She and Marek shared lambing watch some years."

Lethira nodded. "Good."

She crouched near the gate again while Halren fetched small raw meat scraps from the kitchen. With Lethira's direction, he put one piece on the ground and stepped back. The dog hesitated longer than it had with her. Then came forward and ate.

"Do that again later," Lethira said. "Don't grab it. Keep the sheep in the nearer pen tonight, and block the hedge low rather than where a standing human sees it."

Halren grimaced. "Yes."

"If the dog returns, feed it away from the sheep."

He looked at the animal. "So we take it to Yessa?"

"We don't take it anywhere until it lets us."

Lethira glanced towards the next holding. "We can take ourselves to Yessa."

She turned to Ian. "This is still better than a goblin."

Ian stood next to her and briefly interlocked his arm with hers as they began towards the neighbouring farm. "This is nice. I hope it isn't too mundane for you."

Lethira looked down at their linked arms. "No."

The answer came before teasing. "This is exactly the sort of work I used to like."

They walked that way for several steps before the path narrowed and their arms separated naturally. "Not every warden day involved corrupted beasts. More often somebody heard an animal where it should not be, a bridge marker moved, children found tracks they did not recognise, or a trader insisted the road was unsafe because he saw eyes in the dark."

She stepped over a rut. "Sometimes the answer was three deer. Sometimes it was not."

The path climbed between hedges. At a damp stile she paused, crossed easily, then looked back at the obstacle. "B-rank."

The joke was enough. She did not repeat it at the mud beyond. Yessa's holding appeared through mature fruit trees. It was smaller than Halren's, the house low beneath a repaired roof, a barn almost as large beside it. One black-and-white sheepdog noticed them first and barked twice. Another answered from behind the house.

A woman emerged from the barn carrying a wooden bucket. She was perhaps in her sixties, broad-shouldered and sun-browned, grey hair twisted into a practical knot. She put the bucket down.

"Morning."

"Lethira Dawnleaf. Guild work from Halren."

Yessa's expression tightened. "The sheep?"

"Recovered alive. Both."

She exhaled. "Good."

"The animal that took them appears to be a trained sheepdog."

Yessa stopped. Lethira continued. "Large rough coat. Dark grey-brown and pale patches. One ear upright, one partly folded. No collar now. Old collar wear. Underfed. It moved the sheep into an abandoned shelter and guarded them."

By the folded ear, Yessa's face had gone still. "Where?"

"Old three-wall shelter below the ridge."

Yessa looked towards the distant tree line. "Moss."

The name came quietly. Lethira did not confirm it for her. "You recognise the description?"

"Yes. Marek's dog."

She looked towards Ian only briefly before returning to Lethira. "What happened to him?"

"We don't know beyond what we found today."

Yessa nodded, approving the precision. "Marek died last winter. Daughter sold the flock and tried to take Moss. He wouldn't stay with the cart. Went back to the field twice."

She rubbed at one eyebrow. "She left him at the holding because he knew me and I said I'd feed him. He came for a while. Then stopped."

"How long?"

"Two months. Maybe a little more."

Lethira looked towards Yessa's dogs. "Could Moss move sheep without a handler?"

Yessa laughed. "He could move Marek without Marek directing him."

That answered enough. "I'll come."

Yessa disappeared into the house and returned with food, a short rope lead and a worn leather collar repaired in two places. "Moss's?"

"Yes. Marek made the first one. I replaced the buckle years ago."

Lethira looked at the leather. "Let's see whether he wants it before putting it on him."

They started back. The walk was slower with Yessa because almost every field seemed to contain someone she knew. She waved to a worker, paused to push a loose stone back into a boundary wall, and stepped around mud with the patience of someone who had been using the path longer than either visitor. Ian's first Guild contract had produced no goblin and no drawn arrow. Two recovered sheep and an old woman carrying the collar of a dead neighbour's dog across several fields.

Lethira seemed entirely content. Ian said, "No, entirely perfect for my first. I would still like to see you in action one day." He blushed.

"I don't mean in a bath sense."

Lethira's mouth opened. He reached the correction first. "But I'm happy for that day to not be this day."

She regarded him for several steps. "I understood which kind of action you meant."

A pause. "Eventually."

The smile remained. "If we keep travelling, you probably will. I have no ambition to demonstrate myself for you, but roads occasionally contain things that need shooting. When that happens, you may admire me as much as you like from wherever I told you was safe."

She adjusted the bow at her shoulder. "For today, Moss has survived my full combat capability."

Yessa, several paces ahead, had heard none of the exchange. She demonstrated three old whistles as they walked: one for left, one for stop, one for come. Lethira listened carefully. Yessa warned that Moss had always listened to Marek better than anyone else.

"He worked too much," she said. "Marek encouraged it because he worked too much as well."

Halren's fields returned beyond the hedges. Moss remained outside the nearer pen, watching the sheep. Yessa stopped. The dog's head turned. Nothing moved for a second.

Then the upright ear came forward. Yessa made the rising whistle. Moss froze. His tail moved once. She whistled again.

The dog ran. The first strides were cautious. Recognition completed itself halfway across the grass and the awkward large animal accelerated towards her. Yessa crouched.

"Moss."

He stopped close enough that his chest almost met her knees, sniffed her boots, skirt, hands and finally the food bag. Yessa laughed once.

"Yes. Naturally. Food first."

Only after giving him a piece did she touch him. One hand went to the side of his neck. Moss leaned into it. Yessa looked away for a moment. Lethira stayed several paces back.

Halren had come from the barn and stood beside the gate, watching with folded arms. Yessa found the worn patch beneath Moss's coat.

"That's him."

She set the repaired collar on the grass rather than fastening it. Moss sniffed the leather. Then returned his attention to the sheep. Halren sighed.

"Of course."

Yessa looked at the dog. "I can't keep him. I've already got two."

Halren rubbed his jaw. Moss had stood because one ewe moved away from the group. The dog circled, returned it and sat down.

"That's useful," Halren said.

Yessa snorted. "Careful. That's how Marek ended up with him."

Halren went into the field, collected feed and drew the sheep towards the centre. Then he returned to the open gate and put one piece of meat just inside. Moss stared at the opening. At Halren. At Yessa.

At the sheep. Then crossed the threshold. No one moved towards him. He ate the meat, walked farther into the field and stopped. A sheep wandered.

Moss corrected it. Halren exhaled. "Right. I can feed him today."

Yessa stood. "Good."

Halren kept watching Moss. "And tomorrow."

"Better."

"I said I can feed him."

Yessa's mouth moved. "I heard you."

Moss lay down where he could see the flock. The old collar remained outside the gate. Ian leaned close enough that only Lethira could hear him.

"I think we let them decide what is best between them, and return to claim our pile of gold and the thanks of the entire town."

Lethira looked at him. "Pile of gold."

Her gaze passed over the patched gate, sheep and dog. "If this pays for lunch, I shall try to remain humble."

She lowered her voice further. "As for the town, I expect bells."

The joke passed into the activity around them. Yessa had picked up Moss's old collar and was turning it in her hands. Halren watched the dog work. Neither looked towards Lethira for a decision. She stepped over to him.

"Your two sheep are back, and you know what happened. Anything else you need from the Guild contract?"

Halren considered. "No. You've done what I asked."

His eyes went to Yessa. "The rest we can sort out."

Yessa snorted. Yessa turned the old collar in her hands. "You can begin by feeding him."

"I fed him."

"Once."

Halren gave her a flat look. "He's been here less than an hour."

Lethira left the argument to them and looked back towards the road.

That argument had enough life to continue alone. Lethira smiled. "Good."

She touched the contract token at her belt. "If Moss leaves, Yessa knows where he may go. If he stays, repair the low hedge before he decides your flock remains insufficient."

Halren looked towards the far paddock. "I've already decided I dislike that hedge."

"Useful beginning."

She waved to Yessa, received one in return and turned towards Merrowford. For several steps she looked pleased with herself. "Two sheep recovered. Cause identified. No arrows used. No injuries."

She glanced back at Moss, who had stood because a ewe approached the gate. "I believe that counts."

Then the mock seriousness returned. "Although I am concerned about the reward. If there is only a small pile of gold, I may have to complain."

"I'm happy to pay in kind if you feel short of monetary reward."

Ian grinned. Lethira missed half a step. Not enough to stumble. Enough that the bow at her shoulder shifted and needed settling. "I see."

Her ears had coloured slightly. "Private supplementation of Guild wages."

She considered the path ahead with exaggerated seriousness. "Extremely corrupt."

The corner of her mouth gave her away. "I shall have to think carefully about whether such compensation compromises my professional integrity."

A few paces passed. "After yesterday, I suspect my professional integrity is already in some danger."

The farm track narrowed between hedges. Lethira let her arm brush Ian's rather than moving away. Behind them Moss barked once. Both looked back. He had moved a sheep away from the gate and resumed his place as though the morning had finally become sensible.

Lethira smiled. They left them to it. The return to town felt shorter without every patch of mud asking to be evidence. The split willow reappeared, then carts on the busier road, then the first kitchen gardens. Lethira touched the contract token.

"I do hope the reward is embarrassingly small. It would improve the story."

She began counting on her fingers. "First Guild contract. Veteran adventurer recovered from administrative death. Two sheep rescued. One unemployed shepherd found. No monsters."

Her eyes slid towards Ian. "Unranked aide remained fully trousered."

A pause. "Mostly professional throughout."

As the road widened, she slowed until they were comfortably side by side. Her hand found Ian's. "I liked it," she said after a while. "The work."

She glanced back once towards the country. "I had forgotten how satisfying a small problem can be when nobody is trying to turn it into a larger one."

Then the amusement returned. "And apparently I have acquired an aide who offers supplementary benefits."

Her fingers squeezed his. "Very modern employment conditions."

Merrowford swallowed them gradually: vegetable carts, baskets, muddy travellers heading the other way, market noise ahead. At the Guild, two notices had disappeared from the boards and another had been pinned up crookedly. Lethira glanced towards it. Then kept walking.

"One adventure at a time."

Inside, the morning queue had thinned. The man with the broken lantern had vanished. One of the muddy women from earlier was describing a collapsed bank at the completion desk.

When their turn came, Lethira placed the wooden token on the counter. "Halren. Missing sheep."

The clerk found the posting. "Completed?"

"Yes. Both recovered alive."

The clerk looked up. "Cause?"

"Working sheepdog."

Her pen stopped. "Dog."

"Yes."

The clerk checked the original notice. "Explain."

Lethira did, briefly: hedge gap, frayed tether, sheep-and-dog trail, abandoned shelter, both animals alive; Yessa's identification of Moss as the late Marek's working dog; Halren's agreement to feed him while the local people decided what followed.

The clerk's pen moved across the completion line. "No injury? No livestock killed?"

"None, and none found," Lethira said.

The clerk finished her notes. "Objective complete."

She reached to a shelf and brought down a small purse. It landed on the counter with a modest sound. Lethira looked at it. Then at Ian. Her eyes brightened.

The clerk mistook that for dissatisfaction. "Posted reward plus completion amount. No hazard uplift. No material costs."

"No complaint."

Lethira weighed the purse. "This is perfect."

The clerk stamped the completion and slid the wooden token into a box. "Successful completion recorded."

Near the wall, Lethira opened the purse. A handful of coins. She counted them once. Then again, to ensure the Guild had not hidden a kingdom beneath the first layer. It had not.

"Our pile of gold has suffered a serious administrative reduction."

She returned the coins. "I believe we can afford lunch."

A pause. "Possibly with a drink."

Outside, nobody had gathered to thank them. A man carrying a sack passed without looking at the Guild. Lethira sighed. "Ungrateful place."

At the threshold she let Ian come alongside her. "Lunch, I think."

Her hand found his again. "And then we can decide what an adventurer and her extremely junior aide do with the rest of a perfectly ordinary day."

Ian squeezed her hand. "Yes, my lady."

Lethira's fingers tightened once in answer. "Careful. You are making the supplementary benefits sound contractual."

A vegetable cart forced them briefly apart. When it passed, they crossed towards the market together. Ian looked at her. "I'm glad for this morning, thank you. I didn't need to do anything beyond imagination, just be with the elf I like."

He added, "A lot." Lethira slowed. The market moved around them: baskets, carts, voices, somebody calling the price of onions from beneath an awning. She looked at Ian for a few seconds, the joke that had been forming giving way to something quieter.

"Good."

She reached for his hand again. "Because I did not bring you out here so you could prove anything."

Her fingers threaded through his. "And I liked having you there."

The reward purse paid for lunch at a market stall: hot flatbread folded around beans, onions and strips of grilled river fish, with pickled vegetables sharp enough to cut through the oil. Lethira paid from the morning's earnings and received several coins back. She inspected the change.

"Still no kingdom."

They carried the food towards a quieter edge of the square, close enough to hear the market without standing in its centre. Lethira looked at Ian again.

"For the record, Ian Kirk..."

Her smile returned, softer than the one she had worn over the contract board. "I like you a lot too."