What remained of Brindlecross lay miles behind them, a smouldering scar on the land where homes, barns, and fields had once stood. All that endured were ashes and the memories carried by its people. The survivors now travelled in a long, weary column of wagons, their numbers guarded on every side by soldiers in gleaming armour beneath the banners of King Aldric of Mercia.

  In the end, even Garrick’s family had joined the convoy to the nearest city of Thrymwall. Wheels groaned beneath the weight of children and the few possessions that could be salvaged, as they abandoned their homes to the goblin horde.

  The army was a living tide, over two thousand strong. Pikes and armour gleamed in the morning sun, shields marched in tight formation, and scouts moved through the trees like shadows. William found himself in one of the covered wagons near the centre, seated beside Fredric and the six adventurers who had fought tooth and nail to protect the people of Brindlecross. The rhythmic creak of wheels and the steady thud of boots filled the air as the column moved southward towards the village of Gegnburg.

  With Brindlecross abandoned, William received a notification.

  [Questline Failed: Clear the Caves of Goblins and Other Threats]

  Will dismissed the message and shook his head. Makes sense, I guess. He checked his interface, and, as expected, the quest: [Clear the Caves of Goblins and Other Threats] was gone. The village of Brindlecross would soon be just another marker on an out-of-date map. It could be rebuilt in the future, but for now, it was as good as gone. There was now no reason for clearing the caves, and so the quest was defunct.

  I guess I won’t be running that dungeon again, William mused.

  Fredric leaned back against the wagon wall, his leg now healed by one of the army healers. “Never thought I’d see the day I was grateful for splinters and straw.” He scratched his behind. The troll had thrown him through a bale of hay before he skidded to a stop in a pile of wood. The hay had broken most of his fall, but the sticks had resulted in a broken leg and a lot of small splinters in his backside.

  Marie, who had spent ten minutes pulling splinters from Fredric’s rear, smirked as she leaned forward with her arms resting on her knees. “Better than being troll food, little man. You should count yourself lucky it threw you.” She chuckled. “And that you don’t have to sit to pee.”

  The teenage squire turned bright red, the freckles on his face vanishing in a sea of embarrassment.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Aye,” Sibrek rumbled, tearing a hunk of dried meat with his teeth. His red beard was even more matted than before, and his armour looked like it had been dragged through a battlefield—which it had. “Though if you’d moved a bit faster, lad, maybe that troll wouldn’t ‘ve thrown ya like a rag doll.”

  Fredric shot him a look but grinned anyway. “Funny words coming from someone who nearly got flattened by that troll. If William hadn’t cut it down, you’d be squashed into the dirt.”

  The dwarf grunted, but there was no bite in it. “Bah. If not for the lad, aye, damn thing tried te stamp me flat like a rug.” His voice became a whisper, “But don’t tell ‘im I said so.”

  Will raised a brow, smirking. “I’m sitting right here.”

  That got a laugh out of them all, even Amra, the quiet elven huntress, who spoke little.

  Pip, the catkin rogue, leaned against the wagon’s side, her tail flicking in amusement. “I still say the funniest moment was when you leapt off the palisade and crashed through that cottage window. Graceful as a falling log, you were.”

  William frowned. “How did you even see that from the forest?”

  The catkin giggled. “How could I not see you in that bright golden armour flailing around like a plucked hen?”

  Will groaned and covered his face with a hand. “I misjudged the jump. I had the buff. Everything felt different.”

  “Oh, aye,” Sibrek barked a laugh. “Different enough, you landed on your arse in the middle of some poor sods bedchamber. Did ya even ask ‘em if they wanted a bigger window?”

  Fredric clapped Will on the shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. You killed the troll. Window or no window, we’re still breathing thanks to you.”

  “Not just me,” William corrected. He looked around at them all: the dwarf with his ever-present scowl, Marie with her calm fire, Pip with her mocking grin, Amra with her quiet strength, and the two grey-skinned adventurers, Brian and Carl, who had yet to put away their staff and mace since the battle. “We did it together. Brindlecross stood because we stood together.”

  Silence fell, broken only by the wagon wheels turning on the rutted road. Then Marie gave a small nod. “Together.”

  The elven huntress added, “And together we’ll do it again if we have to.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t,” Carl added. “But if the Commander’s right, we’ll see worse before this is done.”

  Will leaned back, letting the wagon rock him. His broken interface was at the back of his thoughts, full of errors and unanswered questions, as he recalled how the Goblin King attacked the capital city. So many are going to die. But here, with this battered band of fighters, the weight of the battle eased just enough that he could breathe.

  “Did ya see those old folks take down that war orc?” Sibrek asked. “I stood there wiv me gob wide open like a carp. Thought they’d all decided to meet their maker for sure!”

  William nodded. “They fought like true heroes. In fact, most of Brindlecross fought hard.” He thought of his new title, [Hero of Brindlecross]. “To the true heroes of Brindlecross.”

  They all nodded, and Sibrek reached into a pocket and pulled out a flask. “To the ‘eroes of Brindlecross,” his voice rough but steady. “To the ones we lost. And to the ones still standin’.”

  Each of them took a swig in turn, the burn of cheap spirits warming their throats. For the first time since the night of fire and blood, William allowed himself a small, genuine smile.

  Chapter 040 [Quest: The Search for Survivors]