A short man in a fur coat walked right up to the party’s table as if he’d been personally invited, got all up in Frey’s face as if it was where he belonged, and chugged some of his drink without any sense of shame.

  “Frey, you son of a bitch!” he belched, unaware of the distance from his hostage, or lack thereof. “When did you kill a dragon!? We were supposed to be first!”

  “Logar, get off. You’re drunk.”

  “No thanks to you! Shouldn’t you buy a round of drinks for your fellow adventurers in-arms?”

  “Please, you’d drink through all of our earnings.”

  “I don’t think it’d be a bad idea,” Mitchell mused. “It’s just not a party if it's only the four of us.”

  “Don’t encourage him!” The group turned to a lithe woman who stomped over to their table. Where Logar went, Aileen often followed. She was his right-hand, and more often than not, the sense to his nonsense.

  Raynold couldn’t help but stare at two long ears that poked out from beneath her long, blonde hair. Elves always intrigued him, but what really caught his attention was the sharp look in her eyes. She was pissed, and someone was going to get a reckoning.

  With a practiced motion she grabbed Logar’s ear, twisted, and pulled him away from the table.

  “Sorry if our useless leader bothered you. Congratulations, by the way! It's amazing that you took down a dragon.”

  “Useless? Whose useless? I saved you from a wraith today!”

  “Oh? And who got its attention by yelling too loud?”

  “Well, that’s…”

  “Logar,” Raynold called out, saving him. “If you need help being quiet, maybe I will buy a round for you to sip on. What do you say?”

  “Yes sir! You’re the man, Raynold.”

  “You really don’t have to,” Aileen insisted.

  “It’s fine, call it my thanks for being a friend. Besides, Mitchell is right, we have to celebrate!”

  “Well, if you insist…” She turned straight towards the man behind the bar. “Get a round of Highlaxian Mead for everyone! Everyone! Say ‘Thank you Raynold’!”

  “THANK YOU RAYNOLD!” The tavern erupted. Wherever he looked, people raised their mugs for the man of the hour. They might just canonize him as a patron saint for his generosity.

  “When I said I’d buy a round I didn't mean the most expensive drink there is. You’re worse than Logar!”

  “What’s wrong, I thought drinks were on you? If you really hunted a dragon you’ll have money to spare.”

  “Aileen, you think you could let go of me now?” Logar whined, his ear still firmly in her archer grip. Instead, she harumphed and walked back to her table, where the rest of their party was watching with amused expressions.

  Between swears and pleas, Logar called out to Raynold.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “I won’t forget this Ray! I would totally support you as a leader if you founded a clan!”

  A clan of our own, huh? Raynold had to admit that he liked the idea, and although he didn’t say anything, he could tell that the seed of an idea had been planted in his companions.

  The night was long, the booze was flowing, and people were mingling. Raynold passed from table to table, talking to friends and new faces. By the time he went full circle and arrived at his table, he knew two-dozen peoples’ life stories, had received a lecture on milk prices by an alchemist, and had gotten a very not-subtle invitation for some “tea” at someone’s house.

  Maybe if she’d had nicer hair he would have thought about it. Instead, his mind was occupied with what Logar had blurted out.

  As the night dragged on people began to make their exit. One by one, the tavern got quieter, and a little colder, and a little emptier until there was no one left. When Raynold and his party finally had privacy, he made his proposition.

  “We should found a clan.”

  “I was thinking the exact same thing.” To his surprise it was neither money-obsessed Mitchell nor their leader who spoke up, but the more unassuming Elaine.

  “What do you say, Frey?”

  “I just don’t think we’re ready yet. It's only been a year since we began adventuring together. Most people get five years of experience before joining a clan, let alone founding their own.”

  “It’s the opposite,” countered Raynold. “They get experience because they found a clan. Think about it, what does four more years of the same thing really get us? We’re better off founding a clan now; we can always learn what we need to on the job.”

  “Is founding a clan really all that? What do we get that we don’t have now?”

  “Mitchell, are you really going to ask me that? If we form a clan rather than a party, we get official contracts from the guild, including the right to hunt down the floor lords. And more importantly, we get preferential access to the citadels in the Dungeon, so we can go even deeper than we have until now.

  That means juicier monsters, heavier coffers, and all the fame that comes with it. Sold?”

  “Sold. ” Raynold could see Elaine roll her eyes, but she was missing the point. The rewards had to be at least that good for anyone to even think about going so deep in the dungeon. But the dungeon was home to some places that were so unbearably dangerous that no one could ever be paid to visit them.

  Too bad some things were worth more than money could ever buy.

  “Then what about the cost?” Frey was as pragmatic as ever. “The Guild needs insurance for anyone founding a clan.”

  “And they require a headquarters too. I know, Frey, I’ve read over the requirements, and even though it’s going to be expensive, the dragon corpse will net us more than enough money.”

  “Oh? You did your research already? Let me guess, you also want to be in charge of the clan? You’re so obvious, Raynold.”

  “Frey, you know what I want. I want to reach the Root of the World, and not in ten or twenty years, either. Soon.

  I joined your party because I thought you three would help me, but lately I’m starting to think differently. It looks to me like you three are ok with how things are. You don’t really care about going all the way, as long as you get enough money to last you the month.

  If you’re satisfied with that much, then I think it’s time that I leave.”

  “No! You’re going to leave us? After all we’ve been through?”

  “I’m sorry, Elaine, but that’s how things are. I’m going to reach the Root, with or without you all. If none of you are willing to take the next step and form a clan, then I won’t wait.”

  “Hold on, Raynold, don’t be hasty.” He couldn’t tell if Frey was making a bad joke or being serious.

  “Let’s… talk about it. Let’s talk about forming a clan, but not tonight. It’s late and we’re still tired from the dragon hunt. Give me a few days to get my thoughts sorted. Three days. Let’s meet in three days to hash out the details.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Why are you thanking me? This is all obviously your idea.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be so receptive.”

  “Good night, Raynold. I’ll see you all in a few days.”

  “Alright, take care.”

  That was the last time the party would ever be whole. The next day, Raynold received news that made his stomach drop.