Time moved steadily onward.
"Whew... It’s getting late. Let’s make camp here."
Gazing at the windbreak of stone ahead, Charles exhaled deeply and glanced west. The orange sun now hovered just above the horizon and would soon slip away.
There was still some daylight left, and the party’s energy remained high. Yet if they pressed on and failed to find another spot for camp, they’d be forced to scramble for shelter in the dark—a mistake best avoided.
With late autumn upon them, night fell early and dawn came late. Without a good campsite, the night would be rough.
Anno checked the sky, inner anxiety mounting. She longed to track down a sign of the demons. After days of questioning and hard travel, they’d spent nearly a week in these mountains already, and her patience was nearly gone.
But she knew they all needed rest. Restraining her urgency, she nodded and helped prepare camp.
After all, they’d all experienced the misery of searching for a campsite at night, fighting the cold mountain winds. None of them wanted a repeat.
So, with ample daylight left, the group halted beneath the stone ledge, withdrew foldable tents from their Bags of Holding, and started setting up camp.
As Anno had noted, clues of demons weren’t hard to find. After reaching Rockseeker Camp and questioning returning adventurers and old mountain hunters, they’d gathered a wealth of leads.
Places where trees had sprouted grotesque tumors; sudden bursts of corruption and stench; animals that went berserk, no longer fearing hunters or predators but instead attacking on sight—all these were easy to hear recounted.
After all, the demons had arrived on the material world months ago. No matter how restrained the Abyssal Lord was, its pollution spread recklessly—if they could control it, they wouldn’t be demons at all—so such rumors were everywhere.
Veteran hunters, returning to the tavern after a day afield, would swap tales over drink, easily sharing the creepiest events they’d encountered. With only a little time invested, Charles’s group compiled and analyzed these stories to find their direction.
Once they had it, they pressed straight into the mountains.
So came three more days of exposure and hardship, roughing it in the wild. The destination was even farther from Rockseeker’s Outpost than they’d first worried. With autumn so advanced and daylight short, they traveled by day and camped under the open sky.
There were villages deep in the mountains, but they were home solely to the Mountain Folk. Some would trade at Rockseeker’s Outpost, but in general, they fiercely distrusted outsiders. Under no circumstances would they allow Charles or his party to stay, fearing schemes or prying.
Even though the group claimed to be demon slayers, with trust at zero, their words met only with total rejection.
On the first night, hoping for shelter in a village, they were instead turned away and lost precious time. In the end, they had to wander the mountainside in darkness, seeking somewhere to pitch their tents.
Lesson learned, they now avoided villages and picked wind-sheltered spots instead.
With camp decided, the group set to their tasks. Nidalee used nature magic to grow a barrier of vines and fences around them, set beast-repelling incense, and deployed magical traps for extra safety.
These wouldn’t stop true threats, but they did cut down on harassment from wolves, tigers, and lesser beasts.
Hattie and Theresa joined forces, each summoning Mage Hand to retrieve tents from their Bags of Holding and pitch them.
They put up three tents: one for Charles, one shared by Hattie and Nidalee, and the last for Theresa and Anno—at least, officially. By midnight, who might sneak into Charles’s tent was anyone’s guess.
Charles and Anno then lit a campfire at the center and set a kettle above it. Anno filled it with clean water using the everflowing water bottle, readying a vegetable stew; Charles withdrew a marinated leg of lamb from his Bag of Holding, planning to grill it once the soup was done.
Goodberry could have nourished them for an entire day, so food wasn’t truly needed.
But berries only satisfied the body’s nutritional needs, not the longings of one’s taste buds—or the need for comfort on a lonely mountain night. Cooking became their way to dispel solitude, and brought everyone closer together.
With each person helping and magic lending a hand, camp took shape. Hattie and the others purposely left time and space for Charles and Anno; only when the lamb was finished did all three join them beside the fire, sharing the meal and idle conversation.
Hattie and Theresa, as always, abstained from food—now able to blame it on Goodberry instead of inventing excuses. Nidalee, for her part, ate heartily; as a mortal, she couldn’t resist ingredients freshly prepared in the monastery kitchen.
Naturally, Charles and Anno ate the most. Both needed to meet the demands of melee combat—and both healthy appetites, presumably stoked by the mountain air, tore through a whole leg of lamb easily.
Dinner stretched nearly two hours, as slicing meat from the joint with a small knife was neither quick nor easy.
After the meal, no one rushed to pack up the tableware or cookware. They lounged around the campfire, chatting about everything imaginable. Stories ranged from the free nation founded across the eastern ocean by the gold dragons and Sun Elves, to the far north’s tyrannical Red Dragon empire, infamous for its obsession with badges, and even the many bizarre little kingdoms of the Black Lands, endlessly at war.
The moon rose higher, stars dusted the night sky, and the darkness deepened. Charles, feeling the call of nature, rose and strolled into the woods. No sooner had he gone than all light conversation by the fire died, as if the loss of their anchor left no desire for more words.
Anno felt nothing of this sudden hush, too weary for sharp senses. Her long golden lashes drooped as she nodded off, then started and awoke: "Oh... Miss Hattie, I almost forgot—here."
She reached for the everflowing water bottle she’d used while cooking, offering it back to Hattie.
Hattie just kept smiling and didn’t take it. Instead, she asked, "Lady Anno, would you like to join me for a bath?"
Hearing this, Anno was suddenly alert: "I..."
She was tempted. Days of mountain hiking had left her filthy, sticky, and unable to find time to clean up. She desperately wanted to, for her hygiene as well as her comfort.
But, after all, this was a wild adventure...
"Wouldn’t it be wasteful?" she hesitated. "And what if something dangerous happened...?" Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novel~fire~net
She was a paladin: if she needed to fight, she’d have to don her plate armor first—which, even with practice and help, still took five solid minutes. Far too long in an emergency.
Hattie calmly smiled. "Don’t worry. Theresa’s here—it’ll be fine."
Seeing Anno still hesitant, Hattie added, "I want a bath too, and I’d like someone to help scrub my back. Lady Anno, will you help me with that?"
Theresa nodded gently. "Go on and wash, Lady Anno. Don’t worry, we’ll keep watch—no one will sneak a peek."
She was hinting at something, and Anno blushed bright red—clearly catching her drift.
"I’m not worried about anyone’s character," Anno managed, a little awkwardly. "It’s not suspicion—"
"Then let’s go; we’ll just wipe off quickly."
With that, they rose and slipped behind a rock further off.
Just as they left, Charles returned from the woods, only to see Anno and Hattie disappearing and frowned in confusion: "What happened? Where’s she going?"
"They went to bathe," Theresa explained with a smile. "She felt dirty but couldn’t bring herself to ask for the everflowing water bottle—Hattie helped her out, so off they went."
"Oh." Charles sat down and started clearing away the tableware. He wasn’t particularly interested, but Theresa sidled up, whispering, "Master, aren’t you going to take a peek?"
Charles rolled his eyes. "Are you telling me to spy on them?"
"Master, just play with words a bit!" Theresa grinned. "It’s not spying—it’s just openly watching!"
"Master, trust me—she won’t mind. She might even be secretly delighted!"
Charles chuckled, but shook his head, refusing. "No—Anno is a very serious girl. This kind of word game would only annoy her."
"When you deal with serious people, you need to be serious, too—no..."
Before he could finish, a sudden scream pierced the darkness from afar: "Demons!"
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