A minute later, when Niquel fluttered down like a feather onto the broad slate ledge of Toad Rock, he was still trembling from the adrenaline. Eli had shoved him off the cliff without warning, but Feather Fall had kicked in the second they'd started falling—sixty seconds of freefall, and then his boots had met solid ground again.
The experience was not pleasant. Mid-fall, Niquel had muttered prayers to the blazing sun, half-convinced he'd misjudged Eli. He wasn't afraid of dying—nobility had trained him to face danger with poise—but the uncertainty had gnawed at him: Would Eli turn on him? Was this a setup? Had he miscalculated the man's loyalty? Too many possibilities, too little time to sort them out.
By the time he landed, his legs had turned to jelly. He stumbled, nearly face-planting, and Umai—his ever-loyal bodyguard—rushed over to steady him. But Niquel shoved him away. He saw Eli standing a few feet off, arms crossed, no weapon drawn. No threat. Relief flooded him, but so did shame. A nobleman of Phoenix City didn't show weakness.
He straightened his gold-threaded robe, smoothed his hair, and marched toward Eli, chin held high. But before he could speak, Eli beat him to it.
"My apologies, Lord Niquel," Eli said, inclining his head in a mock bow. "My impulsiveness got the better of me. Umai was right—that chain hadn't been touched in years. I chose a 'safer' alternative. I should've explained first, but I worried you'd refuse, and arguing for ten minutes to save one? Bad math."
He sounded sincere, but Niquel saw right through it. This wasn't an apology—it was a dismissal. A reminder that Niquel's fear had been unnecessary, that Eli had acted alone, and that the noble's hesitation had almost slowed them down. But buried beneath the sarcasm was another message: You picked this path, then balked. If you keep this up, Siona and Gawain will lose patience. That's your problem, not mine.
Niquel bristled. Eli showed him no respect, but before he could retort, another thought struck him.
"You didn't need to scare me like that," Niquel said, forcing his voice steady. "You're a mage—why not just open a portal? Jumping off a cliff is… dramatic."
Eli grinned, tapping the black leather notebook tucked under his arm. "Regrettably, I'm not that skilled. Feather Fall is the highest-level spell I've mastered. And did you really need to be scared? From what I saw, you and Umai can cast it too. Siona's the only one who can't—and she's laughing about it somewhere."
Niquel whipped around. Sure enough, Siona the elf was leaning against a rock, arms crossed, smirking. No fear, no anger—just amusement. Niquel's jaw tightened. He'd been sizing Eli up, trying to figure out his secrets, and Eli had already sized him up. Worse, Eli was right: Niquel had known the others could cast Feather Fall. He'd just forgotten, flustered by the sudden drop.
More secrets. Eli was hiding something—not just his magic level, but his class. He wore a priest's robes, yet he'd used an arcane spell (Feather Fall was wizardry, mostly—only bards dabbled in it besides). A priest who casts arcane magic? Unheard of.
Then there was the rest of the team. Siona, the elf ranger, dressed like she was hiking, not fighting—no armor, no sword, just a leather tunic and a quiver of arrows. Gawain, the golden-haired bard, wore a mithril breastplate but carried twin-handled drums instead of a lute. Umai, the bodyguard, was loyal, but even he had a guarded air. None of them fit the mold of "adventuring party."
Niquel's unease grew. His friend from Castle Syon had sworn these three were reliable, urged him to win them over. But they hid things, disrespected him, and acted like he was an inconvenience. Had his friend misled him? Or were these three more dangerous than they seemed?
No matter. Out here, caution was survival. And right now, he needed them on his side. Time to play his trump card.
"Regardless," Niquel said, squaring his shoulders, "we're here. Thank you for getting us down safely. When we reach Greyhold, I'll increase your pay by twenty percent. Consider it a token of my gratitude."
Eli raised an eyebrow. Siona perked up, elbowing Gawain. Umai nodded, satisfied. Twenty percent was a fortune—enough to buy supplies for months.
"Generous offer," Eli said, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. "But we're not in this for the money. Still… we appreciate it."
Siona grinned, slinging her bow over her shoulder. "Lead the way, boss. More pay means more ale tonight."
Gawain chuckled, tapping his drumsticks against his palm. "Don't mind if I do."
Niquel watched them, relieved. The bait had worked. Now, to keep them happy.
The path from Toad Rock was gentle, winding down into Jackal Valley. But Niquel's noble constitution wasn't built for hiking. Halfway down, he was panting, sweat dripping down his neck, while Eli, Siona, and Gawain strode ahead, unruffled.
"Eli," Niquel wheezed, jogging to catch up. "You're from the Valas Plains too, right? How are you not exhausted?"
Eli glanced back, silver-gray hair catching the sun. "Grew up in the Stonefang Mountains. Small hills compared to these, but still. Got used to it."
"Stonefang Mountains…" Niquel frowned. "East of Valas? You left home farther than I did. Why come all the way north? Most people from the plains stick to trading posts."
Eli's expression softened. "Because this is where I was supposed to be. Greyhold is my foster father's hometown. Pastor Tallas raised me. He's buried in my memories, but his body… I need to bring him home."
Niquel fell silent. He'd touched a nerve. Tallas. The name rang a bell.
"Pastor Tallas… Wait." Niquel stopped, staring at Eli. "I've heard that name. Tallas, the priest from the Stonefang Mountains. Was he… the Huntmaster's chaplain?"
Eli froze. The Huntmaster—leader of the Northern Marches' elite rangers, a legend among nobles. If Tallas had served him…
"You know him?" Eli asked, voice sharp.
Niquel hesitated. His friend from Castle Syon had mentioned the Huntmaster once—said he was a staunch supporter of the Crown, a man who valued loyalty above all. If Tallas was his chaplain, that changed things.
"Met him once," Niquel said carefully. "At a banquet in Phoenix City. He spoke of Greyhold like it was paradise. Said the hunters there were the best in the realm."
Eli relaxed, nodding. "He loved it there. Told me stories of tracking snow-leopards in the peaks, of the annual harvest festival… I want to see it for myself. To feel what he felt."
Niquel studied him. For the first time, Eli looked vulnerable. Not the calm, secretive mage, but a kid missing his dad. Niquel felt a flicker of sympathy—then squashed it. Nobles didn't get sentimental.
"Well," Niquel said, adjusting his robe, "if you're done reminiscing, we should keep moving. The Noisy River's waiting."
Eli smiled, turning to lead the way. "Right. Let's go."
As they descended, Niquel couldn't shake the feeling that he'd missed something. Eli's connection to the Huntmaster, the secrets in his magic, the oddities of his team… This trip was getting more complicated by the minute. But twenty percent extra pay was twenty percent extra pay. For now, that was enough.
Besides, an employer who raised pay deserved respect. Even if he had to pretend.