Henry pointed toward the carriage. "We brought back one of the burrowing worm's heads. But there's more to report."
Jedi's brows furrowed. "More?"
"Yes," Henry continued, "deeper in the cave we found five of them clustered together — the largest over four meters long. There's no way the two of us can handle that alone. We came for part of the reward, and to request your aid."
The druidess's expression darkened as she walked closer, examining the monstrous head loaded on the carriage. "By Silvanus… this explains the imbalance." She ran her fingers along the chitin, her touch glowing faintly with green druidic light. "Burrowers rarely gather in such numbers. They're solitary creatures, sometimes paired, but five… it means a queen has appeared."
Kegan's eyes widened. "A queen? Then the nest'll double by next moon!"
Jedi nodded gravely. "Aye. Once a queen is formed, she releases pheromones that drive others to her side. During mating season, they breed by the thousands. If left unchecked, they'll strip this forest bare and turn the land to hollow earth." She stood silent for a moment, then said, "They must be destroyed before the new moon rises."
The druid turned to the carriage again and began counting softly. "Four thousand gold pieces per head."
Instead of coins, she drew seven radiant diamonds from her satchel. Each one shimmered with an inner light — not mere gemstones, but natural conduits of magic, likely charged from leyline exposure.
Kegan's eyes lit up like a forge fire. He caught one and turned it over in his thick fingers. "Hah! Top-grade rough stones, clear as a mountain spring. Each worth six hundred gold, at least!" His dwarven instincts for minerals had never failed him.
"This is your payment," Jedi said. "And… this," she continued, reaching into a pouch made from woven willow bark, "is the extra reward I promised you. I found it years ago, in the ruins of an old wizard's tower. I could never identify its full purpose, but I can sense the magic in it. Perhaps it'll serve you better."
She tossed Henry a golden ring. He caught it midair and studied it closely — the metal warm to the touch, as if alive. A crimson gem pulsed faintly atop it, engraved with sigils that whispered in arcane tongues. The air around it felt charged, humming with power.
"Ring of Wizardry." After identifying the name, the data of the ring quickly appeared in his mind.
[Ring of Wizardry: "Never Forget"
Long ago, it was rumored that a great Mage from Amn broke through the restrictions of Mystra, the goddess of magic, and could cast spells without limitation, unaffected by memory restrictions. In the end, everyone discovered that his ability came from the ring he himself forged, not the power he claimed. His ring, after many years, is still a treasure everyone dreams of.
Effect: Doubles first-level arcane slots.
Usable Class: Mage]
Henry's eyes widened slightly. A treasure like this could change his entire path as a mage. For a novice, it was nothing short of a blessing from the Weave itself.
He slipped the ring onto his left hand, feeling the gem's pulse synchronize with his heartbeat. The world seemed to sharpen — the flow of mana clearer, the hum of magic beneath the earth audible like a distant song.
He looked up and met Jedi's gaze. "This… this is beyond generous. You have my deepest thanks, Lady Jedi."
"It's very useful for a Mage," Henry said to the half-elf, but did not mention the ring's specific function.
"As long as you like it," Jedi clearly had no interest in the ring. She asked directly,
"Use it well, Henry of Belgost. The forest watches those who respect its balance. And your names will be sung not only in taverns, but among the trees."
Henry bowed his head respectfully — a human gesture, met with a soft nod of elven-like grace from the druid. Behind him, Kegan adjusted his axe and muttered with a grin, "Heh. Not bad, lad. Gold, gems, and a magic ring — Moradin must've winked at ye this morning."
Henry laughed, the tension finally easing from his shoulders. "Then let's not waste the forge-god's blessing, shall we? We've got a queen to slay."
The dwarf raised his axe high, the morning sun glinting across its edge. "Aye! Let's make the bards earn their keep!"
Lady Jedi did not waste a single breath. Her sharp, leaf-green eyes fixed upon Henry as soon as the carriage came to a halt. "What are your plans for the Insect Queen lurking within that cave?" she asked, her tone calm but urgent. "The balance of this forest has already been shaken. I am prepared to work with you to see it restored."
Henry leaned against the carriage, brushing a smear of mud from his sleeve. The wind carried the scent of damp moss and pine resin. "The tunnel is too deep," he admitted after a moment. "There's no way to collapse it without bringing the entire hillside down. We'll have to go in — straight through the nest, find the queen, and end this at the source."
Jedi's expression hardened. "A direct confrontation, then." She hesitated briefly, her fingers unconsciously brushing the wooden amulet around her neck — the sigil of Silvanus, the Oak Father. "So be it."
She turned toward her treehouse and began gathering supplies from a chest carved out of living wood. "I can offer you what aid I can spare — four vials of Potion of Speed, brewed from moonfern petals and the heart of a quickling. And…" she reached deeper into the chest and withdrew a small vial filled with oily black liquid that shimmered faintly purple under the light, "…some Black Widow venom. Freshly extracted. Do not spill it — even a drop could stop a bear's heart."
Henry raised his brows. "Those aren't small gifts, Lady Jedi."
"They are necessary," she replied quietly. "You must understand — druids do not gain strength by slaughter or conquest as others do. Our power comes from balance, from the forest itself. But with these burrowers breeding unchecked, I have received no blessing from nature in months. The grove has grown… silent." Her tone softened, almost mournful. "So, if I must spend what little I have to restore that balance, I will."
Kegan gave a grunt of approval. "Hmph. Spoken like one who understands the weight of duty. The forge must be kept burning, and the forest must keep growin'. Same truth in different tongues."
Henry considered for a moment, his mind already ticking through alchemical reactions and biological weaknesses. "Then here's what I suggest," he said, gesturing toward the venom. "We forge some javelins — light enough to throw from range. We'll coat the tips with the Black Widow venom. Once the javelins pierce the insects' exoskeletons, they'll thrash and scatter. When they move faster, their own body mostly filled with fluids will carry the toxin deeper through their bodies. It'll paralyze their nerve clusters in minutes."
The druid nodded thoughtfully. "A clever approach. I have a few hunting wood spears that can be modified into javelins. We'll need to shave their shafts for balance."
"Aye," said Kegan, rubbing his hands together. "Now ye're talkin' sense. Let the dwarf handle the metalwork. I'll forge the heads so sharp they'll cut a hair mid-air."
Soon, the three of them were hard at work beneath the shade of the ancient tree. The rhythmic clang, clang of Kegan's hammer echoed through the grove, mixing with the soft hum of Jedi's druidic chants as she infused the wooden shafts with binding vines and resilience. Henry stood nearby, carefully mixing the venom with powdered iron dust to improve its adhesion. When the breeze blew, the acrid sting of the poison mingled with the warm scent of smelted steel — danger and craftsmanship intertwined.
By midday, they were done.
Each of them had a finely balanced javelin, a small vial of the venom sealed in glass, and a single potion of speed that glimmered like liquid sunlight.
Their midday meal, however, was far less glorious.
Jedi spread out a small bundle wrapped in woven reed — fruit slices, dark bread, and nuts glistened within. "It isn't much," she said, smiling apologetically, "but it's fresh."
Kegan stared at the offering with an expression of sheer horror. "By Moradin's beard, this is rabbit food! We're goin' into battle, not to an elf's garden picnic! Where's the meat? The marrow? The flavor?"
Henry smirked. "Just make do, my friend. Imagine it's yesterday's roasted boar. Close your eyes and chew fast."
"Bah!" Kegan tore into the bread anyway, his thick fingers making crumbs rain like hail. "A warrior marches on his stomach, not on bloody berries."
Jedi giggled softly, her tone carrying a musical rhythm, as most elves and half-elves spoke. "My usual fare might not satisfy dwarven appetites, but I believe this will lighten your mood." She reached into her satchel and withdrew two bottles of dark amber liquid that sparkled faintly in the sunlight. "Homemade fruit wine. Brewed from moonapple and starberry. Sweet, but with a bit of fire."
Kegan's eyes lit up instantly. "Now that's the kind of forest blessing I can drink to!" Before Henry could protest, the dwarf had already snatched both bottles and uncorked one with his teeth. "Ye don't drink, lad. Yer head's full of magic circles and fireballs. If ye take a sip and start chantin' the wrong rune, we'll both end up roasted before supper!"
Henry sighed, shaking his head as the dwarf drank deeply. "Kegan, for the gods' sake, pace yourself. We still have a queen to face in the afternoon."
"This wee sip won't dull me swing," Kegan said, already halfway through his second gulp. "Better to meet death with a warm belly than with rabbit leaves between yer teeth."
Henry could only chuckle helplessly. "My apologies, Lady Jedi. He's always been like this."
The druid smiled faintly, her eyes softening. "It's a rare bond you share. Few adventurers laugh so freely before facing such danger. You two must have known each other a long time."
Henry nodded, his tone growing nostalgic. "Since childhood, actually. He's my neighbor. I used to sneak into his forge and listen to his stories about the Deep Roads and the giants beyond the mountains. I think it's because of him I wanted to see the world beyond the city walls."
He paused, glancing at his hands. "When I was older, I started learning bits of magic from travelers passing through — hedge wizards, druids, clerics. Picked up scraps here and there. Only this year did I finally manage to cast a real spell on my own. I suppose you could say I'm half a druid, half a mage, and still half a fool."
Kegan nearly choked on his drink laughing. "Half a fool? More like three-quarters! The lad was a greenhorn not a fortnight ago. When we first met an ogre, he near fainted dead away! If I hadn't grabbed him by the collar, his head'd be a stain on the stones!"
Henry groaned, burying his face in his hands. "It wasn't me who screamed that day, and you know it."
"Aye, but the story's better my way," the dwarf said, slapping him on the back so hard his teeth clacked together.
Jedi laughed aloud — a sound like chimes dancing in the wind. "You two remind me of the twin badgers that live near the spring — always arguing, but never apart."
Henry sighed but smiled despite himself. "That's… not an entirely wrong comparison."
As the sunlight filtered through the canopy, the three sat together — a human mage, a dwarven smith, and a half-elf druid — sharing laughter and bread before the storm. In that small pocket of calm, surrounded by ancient trees and the scent of earth, their companionship felt almost sacred.