A heavy blanket of humidity hung over the morning, and no one complained that the going was slow. Raith and Silas used the opportunity for more trap detection training as they moved south through paranoid Farmer’s demesnes.

  It also let them keep their distance from Nyhm and Thea, who stank of last night’s alcohol and perhaps a touch of vomit. Even after Tolliver’s Sonic Cleanse, a foul odor continued to seep out their pores.

  Thea had heroically saved them all by getting completely soused with the heartbroken dwarf and listening to his tale of woe. Sadly, Nyhm had been forced along for the ride. Farmer decided the tattooed elfling was close enough to a full elf, and insisted on using him as a vessel for atonement. In this case, that atonement took the form of a legendary amount of mead and tears.

  Luckily, Raith and Silas had been able to fade into the background and avoid the majority of it. Tolliver spent the night in hiding as a bat, not daring to resume his human form until they were many miles from the farm. Even now he kept looking fearfully back over his shoulder and abruptly changing form at the slightest noise.

  “I hadn’t realized elves and dwarves cannot have children,” Silas said, looking thoughtfully out into the woods.

  “Neither did I. Do you suppose Farmer will return to his people?”

  Silas shrugged, and then a grin spread across his face.

  “Weaver’s help them if he does.”

  They shared a laugh at this as they walked on, and after a few steps Silas held up a hand for them to stop.

  “See that,” he said, pointing to a patch of low, green leafy plants.

  Raith stared at them intently, moving into [Staccato] after several fruitless moments of searching. It had been a while since they’d come across a trap, and he assumed they were clear of them. Eventually, he gave up and shook his head.

  “If there’s a trap there, I can’t see it.”

  “No trap. This is a tracking lesson.” He crouched down and motioned for Raith to join him. “Those are leeks. It’s not important to know what kind of plant it is unless you’re going to eat it, but it is important to think about how they look in their natural state. See how there’s dirt on top of that leaf.”

  Peering a little closer, he could see that there was indeed a small scattering of dirt on one of the plant’s leaves.

  “Ok, I see it. So what?”

  “So, how did it get that way? Did the leaf scoop up the dirt on its own? Did the dirt fall from the sky and land there?”

  Raith could see where he was going with this and gave the question the thought it deserved. While he considered, he noticed a few other discrepancies with the patch of leeks.

  “If dirt was picked up on the bottom of a foot, some might come off when it stepped on the leaf. I can also see some darker green spots on a couple of other leaves.”

  “Yes! That dark green is called bruising, and it happens to plants when they get smushed.” He picked a leaf, pressing it between his fingernails causing the light green to turn a much darker shade. “A live plant will often spring back into shape after getting stepped on, but you can still find little signs of passage like these.”

  He handed it to Raith, and the plant smelled of fresh onions. The bruising was distinct, and after seeing how it was created he could imagine a number of ways a passing creature might leave such a mark on a plant.

  Raith cocked his head at the [Ranger].

  “Is ‘smushed’ a technical term amongst trackers?”

  Silas laughed and gave him a shove, forcing Raith to stand back up to retain his balance.

  “But seriously, thanks for teaching me this stuff. I really appreciate it.”

  The [Ranger] smiled and nodded, but Raith caught the flash of sadness in his eyes as he turned back towards their journey.

  According to Farmer, they were at least three weeks out from the road that would take them east to the Old Valen crossing. There used to be a much closer ferry, but the operator had been slaughtered by some beast from the wildlands last year.

  Raith was familiar with the road because if you took it west into the mountains, it led to his grandfather’s monastery. They were further south than he’d thought they were, but it was still a long trek through the wilderness.

  Silas started sprinkling track recognition into the lessons, which added an entirely new dimension to how Raith viewed the wilderness. It was astounding what kind of stories the environment could tell if you knew what to look for. An entirely novel experience for someone who had been raised in a city with a deliberate predisposition to ignore all the little details that didn’t directly pertain to your personal business.

  One of the books from the Adventurer’s Guild was titled Signcraft, and turned out to be a treasure trove of information on both animal and monster tracking, complete with a number of excellent drawings to go with each entry. Foot/paw/hoof shapes, walking vs. running gaits, and even how they marked their territory.

  The book had stood out in his memory because it talked a great deal about scat, which turned out to be another word for poo that he hadn’t been familiar with. At the time, it had struck him as bizarre that there was a tome dedicated to animal poo, but now that he was out here in the wildlands putting that knowledge to use it made a lot more sense.

  On the fifth day, Tolliver’s aerial reconnaissance spotted the godtower the dwarf had told them about. Its looming presence above the trees made navigating a trivial matter and reassured them they were on track.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Is there a town around it?” Tolliver asked hopefully.

  Thea shook her head.

  “It’s a closed tower, never opened in all of recorded history. Whichever god lies trapped inside has been lost to the ages.”

  As they approached the massive structure, they could see that the forest went right up to the base. Vines crept up dozens of feet, but couldn’t climb the entirety of its soaring height. Not a single opening could be seen anywhere on the cold, black stone.

  By unspoken agreement, the team moved silently beneath the shadow of the tower. It felt as though any stray noise might call some horror to burst forth from the unblemished stone. Even the birds kept a respectful quiet in proximity to the ominous tower.

  “Is it the god who closed it, or the Weavers?”

  Raith found himself whispering, although he wasn’t sure why. He felt a little less silly when Thea responded in kind.

  “No one knows for certain, but we do know that gods can close their towers. Flocknir’s tower closed after the Violet War seven thousand years ago and hasn’t opened since. Sala closed hers for five centuries of mourning after Trin Lightbringer was slain.”

  Stories of Sala’s famous [Paladin] were a staple of Raith’s childhood, and the inspiration for yet another of his [Class] obsessions. He dipped into his [Library] for a moment and fondly paged through his section on [Paladins]. A beautiful drawing of Trin, shining in silver armor with her equally famous blade thrust into the sky, brought a smile to his face. The smile turned sad as he longed for the simple moral clarity that would have come with following such a path.

  Alas, putting that much faith in the gods was not in his makeup.

  He felt something rough scrape his palm, and looked up in surprise.

  “UNHAND MY TOWER, NEPHEW.”

  The words thrummed into his soul, vibrating all the way out to his bones. Raith thrust himself back into the world to find that he’d stumbled against the tower wall after forgetting to activate [Life in Staccato] before [Mnemonic Library]. The stone was cold and hard beneath his hand, and he jerked back as though the wall might open up and suck him inside. Nyhm had caught him by the arm to stop him from falling, and frowned up in concern.

  “Are you ok?” he whispered.

  Raith nodded and collected himself, taking a few steps back from the tower. He hadn’t realized he could feel what happened to his body while in the library. Although, upon further thought, it made sense considering previous users didn’t have [Staccato]. They would need to know if they were being injured or attacked while visiting the mental construct.

  Note to self: never under any circumstances do that shit again.

  Soon the team was comfortably far from the structure. Just as it had marked the tower’s presence, birdsong filtered back into the forest’s atmosphere and the lifted off what felt like a physical weight. Raith took a deep breath of relief and tried very hard not to think about the fact that whatever horror dwelt in that awful tower had called him ‘nephew’.

  Settling into a routine of training with Silas, Raith added [Squirrel Running] patrols to his march rotation. In the first place, it was fun. A lot of fun. Something about the dynamic nature of trees, the flow of their branches, and the freedom of bounding through them above the ground was joyful and freeing. Even better than roof running. His only regret was that everyone else couldn’t travel this way, or they would have made the road to Old Valen in half the time.

  It also lent a good vantage to keep an eye out for monsters, giving additional opportunity to practice his stealth. Between [Lesser Stealth], the enchanted boots, and his practiced talent, moving quietly was the easy part.

  After being spotted by a stray glance from a dire bear, he realized that the hiding part needed some work.

  That had been a tough battle. While the party had been inclined to just leave the beast alone, it had pursued them relentlessly before they finally turned to fight. It was one of only a few battles they were forced into, since between Silas, Tollvier-bat and Raith they were finding it very easy to spot and steer clear of any unwanted encounters.

  “I’m worried we’re not going to level if we keep avoiding all the monsters.”

  Thea arched an eyebrow at him and frowned.

  “How about we wait until we unscrew ourselves from this shipwreck mess before inviting more trouble? How many healing potions do you have left? I’ve only one.”

  “I’m down to one and a quarter. Tolliver probably has some, but good luck getting any unless you’re on death’s door.”

  The satyr peered around the woods, carefully scrutinizing the surrounding sky. Raith guessed at her motivation.

  “I just saw him fly past a minute ago. He should be gone for a while, depending on how big of a loop he’s running.”

  She nodded and glanced towards Silas, who was well ahead of them and out of earshot. Nyhm walked only a few feet from them, but was looking conspicuously away into the woods to pretend he wasn’t listening. Evidently deciding that it was fine if the elfling overheard, she spoke in a low voice just above a whisper.

  “I was writing with my mom, and the Order is bothering dad about us. They think that Tolliver has the team caught up in some web of noble schemes.”

  Raith found himself flushing with rage.

  “I knew it. We should never have trusted a fucking noble.” He stopped and turned to Thea. “That would explain why he suspiciously supported us in front of Deven like that.”

  She nodded and continued with the train of thought.

  “And stayed after the battle with the kingsmen. It was odd he stuck around after that mess.”

  As he thought back on it, there were several things about the [Mage] that seemed suspect in retrospect.

  “Yeah, and remember that time…” He trailed off as another thought struck him. “Oh no.”

  Thea frowned and crossed her arms.

  “I know that ‘oh no’. That’s an ‘I’ve done something unbelievably fucking stupid’ ‘oh no’.”

  Nyhm stepped closer, no longer pretending like he wasn’t eavesdropping on the conversation.

  “The Order suspects me of being godtouched, or knowing someone who is.”

  That familiar flush began to creep up Thea’s neck and onto her face. She spat her words through clenched teeth.

  “And you are only telling us this now, because…?”

  Raith took a step back and held up his hands.

  “I didn’t think to say anything before.”

  “You didn’t THINK?!”

  A bird on a nearby branch startled and flew away, chirping angrily at them. Silas paused and looked back at the trio. Raith gave him an awkward smile and a thumbs up. The [Ranger] just shook his head and turned back around to continue scouting their path forward.

  “I understand why you’re mad, and I definitely should have said something. But please remember I’m not used to talking to anyone about this stuff.” He gestured at the tattoo beneath his hair. “It was literally drilled into my skull how dangerous it is to ever mention it to anyone. We almost never spoke of it, even privately in our own home. I don’t think Derry even knows.”

  Thea closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. The flush began to creep back down her neck, but didn’t quite disappear.

  “Alright. Tell us how the Order knows anything about your [Divine Skill].”

  So Raith told the tale of Remi, his offer to join the Forgotten Ones, and the ring of remembrance. And when he was done, Thea had calmed down completely.

  “Weaver’s tits, Raith. What are we to do?”

  He shrugged.

  “If the Order knew anything for certain, they would have sent a Templar to fetch me, and there’s nothing any of us could do to stop them. I think if I stay away from Beckhaven for a while, they’ll eventually forget about me. As far as anyone is concerned, I’m a normal, low level adventurer.”

  Thea nodded and chewed on her lip as she considered that.

  “To be fair, that’s pretty much actually what you are. But I think you’re right. I’ll take care not to bring this up unless the situation is dire, but you need to tell us right away if something else happens, alright?”

  “I can do that.”

  They walked along in silence for a bit, taking some time to process all the new information. Raith broke the quiet, looking over to his friend with a half smile.

  “Is it weird that I’m still really pissed at Tolliver even after realizing he didn’t do anything?”

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