The frost tipped grass crunched under Wyn’s boots with every step. The sun was starting to rise and the sky cloudless, and that warmth just kept the cold at bay. He shivered, then crossed his arms together while trying to warm up more. Despite wearing his magical jacket that kept him comfortable in all weather conditions, the enchantment faded the further and longer he was away from Alestead. Coupled with his own personal diminished magical abilities it was even less pleasant than he remembered. The chill in the air was lingering, but he knew it would be better soon. Winter was nearly gone and spring was soon to arrive.

  “Wyn?” Arabelle asked. She walked up beside him, leaning into his side. She wore a thick wool coat that draped to her ankles.

  Wyn looked around, not wanting to ignore or shy away from the memories. Both the good and bad. Running and laughing with his sister through the fields. Eating a warm meal while teasing Arabelle, then being teased back before the night was over. Harvesting a good yield and knowing it would cover the family for the winter. Waking up in the middle of the night to his father drunkenly stumble inside and demand to be fed and cared for. Hiding Arabelle so she wouldn’t have to run the risk of facing their father. Leaving her alone with him.

  “Yea,” Wyn said, not taking his eyes off the farm. Their farm. Their home.

  Arabelle grabbed his arm and held him. “I’m ready to be done. Fuck this place.”

  Wyn nodded. “Fuck this place.”

  They turned together back to the farm house where the others waited. Tasha and Cedric were talking and standing at the edge of the house while Marcy was leaning against the side on the lookout. John and Daniel stood at the front door, talking quietly.

  “Are you sure?” John asked. He pointed inside the house. “It smells terrible inside. I actually don’t mind waiting out here.”

  Daniel shrugged. “I’ve seen worse, believe it or not. But I don’t particularly care for the cold, and the ride over here was brutal on these old bones.”

  John patted the older man on the back. “Go for it. If you can stand walking past that, you’re a better man than me.” He walked away to join Tasha and Cedric.

  Daniel leaned in through the front door but didn’t step inside. He sighed and walked away.

  “I know it’s rough,” Wyn said, joining everyone. “No one’s been over here since Arabelle left.”

  “I don’t exactly care to clean it, either,” Arabelle said. “It can rot away for all I care.”

  “Yep, sure, that’s perfectly fine,” John said, pulling his black fur coat snug around his torso. “This is your house, after all.” He looked back at the front door and scrunched his face together in disgust.

  Tasha smacked him on the arm with a gloved hand, making a hollow whomp.

  “It’s fine,” Wyn said. “It won’t be any of our problems for long.”

  “That’s right, it’ll be ours,” a new voice said.

  Everyone turned abruptly to see a man walk out from behind the large oak tree on the other side of the house. Two more men were with him, and they all were bundled up in black hats and coats. The first man who spoke was older, maybe in his mid-forties, while the two in the back were tall and broad shouldered.

  “Well shit,” Marcy said. “I really hate not having my abilities.”

  “I assume you’re Mr. Evanson?” Wyn asked.

  The man bowed while sweeping his arm to the side. “That I am. Thank you for meeting us. I do apologize it’s taken so long for this to happen.”

  “Five months is a long time,” Arabelle said. “I thought you all were punctual. At least you were when collecting our debt.”

  Mr. Evanson smiled broadly. “True, though this required some delicate touches. Bankers, tax collectors, a few government officials to sign off on the required documents were all needed for this transaction, as per your request to keep it legal and binding. Since it was an agreed upon deal, this was the fastest we could muster it, I’m afraid.”

  Wyn could tell Arabelle was about to give some snarky reply and grabbed her arm gently. He felt her tense body relax a bit. “And we’re happy to finally sign the deal. Should we head inside?”

  The man gestured to his bodyguards who stepped towards the front door of the farm house. The rest of Wyn’s group moved out of their way, except for John and Marcy who watched them carefully. There was a brief standoff between the four people before the mysterious men stepped around them. They each eyed the blood stains that coated the entrance of the house for a brief second. After sharing a look, one of the men stepped inside and the other stood at the doorway facing everyone.

  Wyn and Arabelle followed Mr. Evanson, who didn’t bother stopping at the sight of the blood-stained floor. Instead, he just stepped over and around it, continuing his stride inside to sit at the rickety and small wooden table. He brushed the top of the table off with a ragged cloth from the nearby counter and did the same to the chair before sitting down.

  “Remember,” Wyn said, leaning in to John’s ear. “We’re not here to cause trouble. Hopefully it won’t take long.”

  John nodded, not taking his eyes off the man standing at the doorway. “We’ll be right here.”

  Wyn patted his friend on the shoulder before making his way inside. The blood loomed in his vision as he and his sister paused at the entryway. That was his father’s blood. His dead father. The cause of all of this. Becoming a Climber, leaving his sister, dealing with the Assembly and their threats. Arabelle was also dragged into it, being a target of the organization and in relatively more danger than himself.

  He didn’t bother stepping around it. Arabelle spat on it as she walked by.

  Both of the Thatchers joined Mr. Evanson at the table, not bothering to wipe off the dust accumulated from months of neglect.

  Mr. Evanson carefully opened a leather-bound folder of sorts, filled with papers and documents. He pulled a small stack of sheets along with a quill and tiny inkwell. It was glass with a glass stopper, slightly larger than a fingertip. The quill was not magical, but a regular, mundane quill that the man carefully set on the table. He then turned the papers around and slid them for Wyn and Arabelle to read. The paper on top wasn’t too difficult to read, and clearly at the top it read Deed of Sale.

  “These are the standard documents for deed transactions,” Mr. Evanson said. “They are eight papers in total and the owner of the home will need to sign the last two. One for each of us, which will be submitted to the local governmental body to be copied and recorded. I can show you where you will need to sign.”

  Wyn picked up the papers and looked them over. There were indeed two copies, which was helpful so Arabelle could read them, too. He separated the stack and handed her the papers. “Our father was the owner of the home. He’s… well, you know.”

  “Good and dead,” Arabelle said.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Wyn gave his sister a look. Even if he wanted the transition to go as smooth as possible it seemed Arabelle didn’t feel the same way.

  He inwardly sighed.

  “Since your father is no longer with us, the oldest child is the heir of property by law,” Mr. Evanson said.

  Wyn nodded. That made it easier, then. He stayed silent while he reviewed the papers with Arabelle, who was also quiet and reading.

  It wasn’t the most exciting material he’d ever read, but at least the message was mostly clear. It was a straightforward deed transfer with the local magistrate’s name attached to it as well as the baron of the region. Both would eventually need to be signed for the transfer to be official, but the magistrate’s office took care of the leg work. All Wyn needed to do was sign it along with Mr. Evanson then deliver it to their office. He wanted to do it himself just to make sure he wouldn’t be responsible for any foul play in the future.

  After a half hour of reviewing the papers both Wyn and Arabelle were satisfied. There wasn’t anything in them that seemed suspect and it truly did appear to be legitimate, which were the terms of their deal.

  Wyn took the quill and ink but waited on signing it. “Last step is the payment.”

  Mr. Evanson snapped his fingers and the bodyguard inside left. It took a few more minutes but he returned with a large leather sack. Setting it down on the floor beside Wyn, it jingled with the familiar sound of coins rattling together.

  “I do hope you’ll believe me when I say that the entirety of the agreed upon payment is present,” Mr. Evanson said. “Sitting here waiting while you count out thousands of crowns doesn’t seem like the best use of either of our time.”

  Wyn smiled as he grabbed the bag, then hoisted it up. It definitely felt heavy, but he agreed that he did not want to wait around and count coins.

  Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. It was slightly yellowed and thick, and as he unfolded it, he smiled.

  “It’s all there. Thank you for upholding your end of the deal.”

  Mr. Evanson furrowed his eyebrows and watched in confusion as Wyn signed the necessary papers, handing one set back to him.

  Wyn left with his copy of the sale in one hand and hugging Arabelle with the other. He joined the others patiently waiting, then looked to his sister. “It’s done. We’re free.”

  A tear fell down his sister’s cheek as she embraced him in a hug.

  Since Lucy left the city and they finalized working out a deal with the Assembly, Wyn came to the conclusion that it didn't end up being about the money. He could have taken the last several months to climb and pay off their debt without much issue. But there was always the lingering thought that they would be back for him or Arabelle to establish some sort of partnership. Something Wyn wanted to avoid.

  He had met a new contact and came to the final conclusion. He paid off the remainder of the debt, but sold the farm and farm house as a promise to be done. They agreed to leave him and his sister alone after obtaining the land legally, and Wyn felt far better about the situation. Their debt was paid. Their farm and bad memories gone. And they were together, safe, and free.

  Wyn breathed the chilly air deeply, ignoring the sting of his lungs. He gave one final look around. The farm house. The farm itself. The barn. So many memories. Both good and bad.

  At least those memories would remain exactly that, forever left alone in the past as he and his sister left their home to never look back. Walking away not alone, but with friends they considered family by their side. Family who they chose and chose them.

  The cold never felt better.

  *****

  Wyn cursed as another bump caused him to briefly lift off the wagon’s bench seat. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t comfortable. The wagon creaked and moaned as the wheels found every divot in the questionably smooth dirt road.

  “Can’t I just walk beside it like the others?” Wyn asked. “I can already feel my magic returning. I could likely walk the rest of the way and be fine.”

  “That’s not the point,” Arabelle said, smoothing out her linen vest under her large coat with both hands. The thick garment kept bunching her other clothes that she was constantly adjusting. “We’re meeting with a potential partner once we hit Rockford, and we won’t have time to be more presentable. So you need to keep your boots and jacket clean. Being muddy isn’t a good look.”

  Wyn sighed. His sister had become more fastidious than he could have predicted. Ever since learning about business under Benedict and Roscoe and gaining her confidence as a Climber, she was quickly gaining skills he never imagined. He always knew she had the potential to be great, but didn’t realize just how much she was being held back while at home under the care of their worthless father. Left to her own ambitions she proved to work just as hard as he did. Often even harder. He was incredibly happy watching her success blossom, and even more so that he was able to be with her as it happened.

  “You’re right, of course,” Wyn said. “I still think I’ll let you do most of the talking.”

  “That will likely still be Roscoe. You know how he can be. But I’m sure they’ll still want to talk to the famed Ruby Magician that Roscoe keeps bragging about.”

  Wyn laughed. “Soon enough that’ll be you. I imagine you’ll pass me, and probably sooner rather than later at your rate.”

  Anabelle smirked. “Just because I hit the second tier last month doesn’t mean much. You know the gap to the next is even wider.”

  “For some reason I doubt that with you.”

  Two knocks on the side of the wagon pulled them away from their conversation. They both looked over to see Bartholomew, the caravan’s lead security and Roscoe’s personal bodyguard. The man was dressed similar to Arabelle with wearing a large coat, except his was a brown fur. “Should be arriving at the destination in another hour or so. Roscoe wanted me to tell you that when we arrive, you’re to join him right away at the meeting spot. We’re running late.”

  Wyn looked up and noticed that the sun still had a few hours in the sky until it was dusk. It would be an early dinner, then. Or possibly a long one that was just starting early to make sure it didn’t go long in the night. Wyn wasn’t as privy to those subtle nuances. Arabelle likely knew, though.

  “Thank you, Bartholomew,” Arabelle said. “The others should help the caravan settle in and then secure rooms for the night. Should we send a runner ahead to make sure there’s room for all of us in one inn?”

  Bartholomew smiled. “Already done, my dear. You’ve picked up quickly.” The man tapped the side of the wagon again and moved to the next one in line.

  The other members of their personal group were in the wagon behind them, though they often took shifts walking or running beside the caravan when not working. John in particular took the opportunity to continue his training. The active Climbers were on guard duty, and despite not being actual guards they were as good as any. Especially since the caravan’s destination was Alestead and being only a few days away meant they all had about half of their normal magical strength back. They hadn’t had any issue during the caravan’s voyage, though even if they did Marcy likely could have taken care of it alone.

  Settling into Rockford was an easy process as Wyn and Arabelle left everyone behind to go to their meeting. Roscoe and Bartholomew walked with them, filling them in on the way. Their contact was Mariah Valega, a businesswoman from outside Fyrewatch on the other side of the country who specialized in dealing with nobles and wealthy merchants. She frequently utilized caravans to move pricy goods like spices, cloths, and furniture, and Roscoe was a regular customer. They were wanting to seal the deal to make themselves an official partner, which required some negotiation and tact.

  Wyn, admittedly, did not have that. Arabelle did, though. And he was happy to support her as she easily joined the other’s discussion at dinner without looking at out of place at all.

  The dinner took place in a private booth at a high-end restaurant, which Wyn was not upset about. Especially after being on the road for nearly an entire month. The dinner was five courses, with tasty cheeses, fruits, nuts, and breads for the first course, a delicious herb and meat soup for the second, and then what was called a chef’s special for the third that Wyn was curious about. They were deep in business discussion while waiting for that to arrive.

  “That’s good,” Mariah said, gesturing with her goblet of wine at Roscoe. “I don’t have any Climbers I use regularly, and having one with some business acumen would be a great selling point.”

  Roscoe smiled broadly. “Arabelle and her brother here are excellent Climbers! Two of the finest I’ve met, and I’ve met plenty. She is already climbing in the second tier while Wyn here is in the third. Have you heard of any guilds in Alestead?”

  Mariah took a small sip of her glass. “I’ve heard of a select few. Only the most well-known, of course, that are brought up by my social circles.”

  “Has the Twilight Blades crossed your ears?”

  Mariah smirked. “That’s the one with the stoic and handsome Knight for a leader, right?”

  “Gregory,” Wyn said. “Yes. He’s as friendly as he is charming.”

  Everyone chuckled, though Mariah gave Wyn an assessing look. “And here I thought you were just the brother of Arabelle, not someone actually privy to the city’s top guilds.”

  Roscoe chuckled. “It’s because he’s in that guild, Mariah.”

  The woman’s face fell into shocked surprise. Wyn tried to hold back a smirk by taking a quick drink of wine. They quickly fell back into business as Wyn enjoyed the company.

  Soon the third course was brought out, and Wyn nearly spat out his drink. Well-dressed waiters and waitresses each sat down a plate before the diners, with the chef’s special featured on the white plates. Each dish was a single, hand-sized folded and cooked portion of a plump ball of bread obviously filled with something.

  “Wyn,” Arabelle whispered. “Are you alright?”

  Wyn nodded as one of the waitresses explained the dish. “This is our famous chef’s special, popularized by our creative and renowned head chef! It’s a slightly cooked breading around a well-seasoned filling of local vegetables and ground meat made from prime cuts of beef.” She leaned down to the table and dropped her voice to a low whisper. “While the name is currently called the chef’s special, it’s popularly known as -”

  “A meat pocket,” Wyn interrupted.

  The waitress smiled. “So, you’ve heard of them! Wonderful. Please enjoy!”

  “It seems you’re quite well-traveled, Ardwyn,” Mariah commented while cutting into the steaming dish.

  Wyn ignored her and gently caught the leaving waitress’s arm. “Your head chef. Is he here tonight?”

  The woman smiled. “He is, but I’m afraid he doesn’t see the guests.”

  “Wyn,” Arabelle said, her voice louder. “What are you doing?”

  Wyn thought for a moment. “Would you tell him that the Ruby Magician sends his thanks, especially for being able to eat his food again. And that he’s finally free.”

  The woman paused then nodded before walking away.

  “That was… odd,” Roscoe said. “Wyn, are you trying to establish another business partner?”

  The others laughed and Wyn joined them. “I’m sorry. No. But I believe the chef is an old friend.”

  A loud clang came from the kitchen, pulling the table’s attention as well as a good number of other patrons in the restaurant. Then a large man dressed in a white outfit covered in a dirty apron stormed out of the kitchen, looking around the restaurant.

  Wyn stood up, and the man’s face broadened into a wide grin.

  “Wyn,” the chef said, walking over to the table. His large strides cleared the distance quickly, and he embraced Wyn in a warm and nearly suffocating hug.

  “Excuse me,” Bartholomew said. “Are you the… head chef?”

  The man pulled away from Wyn and turned to the others at the table. He cleared his throat and gave a small bow. “Yes, sir. Pardon my interruption, but I just realized I had a friend in my restaurant and in your company. Please, continue to enjoy the meal. It’s on me, and I’ll bring out more wine as well.”

  Roscoe clapped his hands together. “Splendid! What fortune we have tonight! Arabelle, you never mentioned Wyn frequented the finer establishments outside Alestead!”

  “It’s because he doesn’t,” Arabelle said. “Wyn, what is going on?”

  Wyn looked at the others at the table, confusion obvious on their face. “I’m so sorry. Everyone, this is Caloman. Goes by Cal. We climbed together only briefly but forged a bond in our time in Alestead.”

  Cal squeezed Wyn’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “You as well! There’s a lot to catch you up on! I see you’ve been doing well.”

  “I have! I’ve done a lot to better myself. I’m in a much better place than when we last saw each other.”

  “Good. I’m so happy about that.”

  Cal smiled broadly. “Please, go back to your dinner. Maybe after we can grab a drink?”

  “The others will want to join. They’re all here!”

  Cal laughed. “That would be excellent. I want to hear what’s been going on with all of you.”

  Wyn shrugged. “We might need a few drinks for that, but I’d be more than happy to. There are quite a few stories to tell.”

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