Talsi leaned closer, ignoring the steady rhythm of hammers and saws as the Sentries finished reinforcing the doorway to the Whitehill maproom. "What is this thing? I know what it's supposed to be, but… it feels different."
Dem nodded. "Rubai had a prototype. I'll show you."
He lifted the weapon and removed a large metal clip from the stock, feeding six crossbow bolts into it. With a solid motion, he locked it back into place.
"Pull this lever," Dem explained. "It'll be fairly easy—there's an enchantment on it. The bowstring locks back, and a bolt slides in from the spring-loaded clip. Then you press the trigger assembly to fire."
Talsi whistled. "Let me try."
Dem led her outside and picked a sturdy tree at a safe distance. "Sight down the bolt. Take your time."
Talsi fired—then worked the lever and fired twice more in quick succession. "It's fast."
Dem joined her at the tree. Only the fletchings were visible. "And it hits hard."
"You're giving this to me?" Talsi frowned, tugging at one of the embedded bolts. "Damn. How many of these do you have?"
"The prototype?" Dem shook his head. "Just this one. Bolts, though—plenty." He handed her a small black ring. "This was Rubai's. It held gold, his mission journal, the weapon, and ammunition. As Quartermaster, you'll make better use of it."
Talsi slipped the ring on, studying it. "Thank you. Aren't storage rings rare?"
"Supposedly," Dem said dryly. "This one's mid-tier. Enough capacity for what you'll need."
"Next stop is Frostridge?" Talsi asked.
"Yes. We'll add it to the network." He paused. "Then I'll bring you to their winter festival."
"Winter's Peak?" Talsi secured the crossbow. "Before that—can you take me into the armory? We should do a full inventory."
Dem smiled. "Give me a few days. I'll use the portal and meet you back here."
With little fanfare, the Sentry Force returned to the Swiftwind winter camp. With nothing pressing, the journey back was spent training—sparring, running, drilling formations.
Dem gave orders for the Sentries to resume guard duty over the camp and river crossing before returning to his family.
Yada waved when she spotted him, pulling him into a tight hug. "Just in time for midday meal."
Dem smiled and sat as Nephira bounded from his storage ring, landing lightly on Yada's shoulder and purring.
Reowr.
Yada scratched the tatzelwurm's ears and cut off a generous piece of roast meant for the evening stew. "Don't you feed her?"
Nephira wrapped briefly around Yada's torso, nuzzled her cheek, then slithered down to claim her prize.
Dem snorted. "That's all she does."
Ai and Gram stepped from the tent, smiling at the scene.
Ai wagged a finger at him. "This Sentry business has you riding all over the continent."
Dem didn't bother hiding his grin when she hugged him. "That's the point. Every Gathering, we hear stories about incidents that cost tribals their lives. We're trying to stop that."
Ai sighed. "I know. My dasai is best."
Gram kissed his forehead. "It's good you're home. We can eat together—though Noko's with the shaman."
Dem's attention shifted as Huntmaster Dern approached, utterly unconcerned with stealth.
Dern slapped his shoulder. "I'm hearing some wild stories about voderbeasts."
Over lunch, Dem recounted the Whitehill herd—twenty thousand beasts and a narrow escape. Dern nodded, impressed. The women wrinkled their noses in unison.
"Hey," Dem said defensively, "it washes off."
He extended a leg so Nephira could climb up. Full and drowsy, she slipped back into the storage ring.
"It's amazing how she does that," Ai said.
Dem's head turned sharply. "We've got company. Riders."
Ai grabbed her bow as Dem and Dern headed for the main gate. Two Sentries stood watch.
A bedraggled young man waited there—late teens, slim, covered in scrapes and bruises. Dressed like a herder, he leaned heavily on his staff.
"Could I speak to the Sentry Commander?"
The guards were Umi and Dael Swiftwind.
Dael eyed the youth skeptically. "That's a big ask. What's this about?"
Umi sensed the others approaching and brightened. "Commander!"
Dem nodded to the twins, then turned to the stranger. "I'm here. What do you need?"
"I'm Karshun," the young man said. "My family keeps a range outside Tahoma." Bruises darkened his face where he'd been beaten.
Dem handed him a canteen and waited as he drank. "You haven't told me why you're here."
"My pa and my older siblings were conscripted," Karshun said, voice cracking. "Pa used to be a mercenary. He taught us all to fight."
Dem held up a hand. "Stop there. What does this have to do with me?"
"Haven't you been helping people across the Four Kingdoms?"
"We're a tribal force," Dem said evenly. "We protect the clans."
Ai stepped forward, frowning at the exhausted young man. "Dasai… let's feed him. Then we'll hear what he has to say."
Dem escorted Karshun into the Sentry camp, where Rodric had half a dozen small animals roasting over open flames. As the largest person in camp, Rodric's appetite was legendary.
He frowned when he saw them. "Commander."
Ai smiled brightly. "Hey, Bearclaw. This herder hasn't eaten."
Rodric frowned harder. He knew Ai by sight—anyone often seen with Dem was hard to miss. "Those are for me."
Ai's smile widened. "All of them? I'm sure you can spare one."
Rodric eyed the rabbits. "That would leave me with only five."
Dem stayed quiet. His dosu had this well in hand.
"I've got three pheasants hanging at our camp," Ai said lightly. "You can stop by later and grab one. A big man like you needs to eat properly, right?"
Rodric considered, then held up two fingers. "Two pheasants for one rabbit."
Ai's eyes widened. "What? That's robbery."
"These rabbits are already cleaned and roasting," Rodric countered calmly. "Those pheasants still need plucking, cleaning, and cooking. That's a lot of work."
Ai narrowed her eyes, searching for a flaw. "…Damn it. Fine. Two pheasants."
Dem covered a laugh as Rodric removed a rabbit from the fire and handed it to Karshun.
While the herder ate, he explained his situation.
There had been several border skirmishes between Galieo and Dhrygal over the past few months. Tahoma had been ordered to provide troops in support of the offensive.
"Our ranch is outside the city limits," Karshun said between mouthfuls. "When my family came into town to sell part of our herd, city officials grabbed them." Grease ran down his chin and soaked into his shirt. He didn't seem to care.
"Cattle?" Dem asked.
"Voderbeasts."
Rodric and Dem stared at him.
"You raise voderbeasts?" Dem said slowly. "Aren't they mean and stupid?"
Karshun nodded. "Mostly. But beet leaves calm them. Keeps the aggression in check."
"Beet leaves," Dem repeated faintly. "We covered ourselves in voderbeast shit to—never mind." He exhaled. "The Sentry Force can't take this mission. That would put us in direct conflict with the militaries of Galieo and Dhrygal."
"I can pay," Karshun said quickly, setting the rabbit aside. "Not much, but we could spare a hundred head."
Dem shook his head. "No. This is our wintering ground. I won't make enemies of either side."
Karshun's shoulders slumped—but Dem wasn't finished.
"That said," Dem continued, "unofficially, without involving the Sentry Force, I'll look into it. Personally."
He met the young man's eyes. "I'll need names and descriptions."
Karshun's face lit with fragile hope. "My pa's name is Gero. He's a sword mage—controls fire, good with a blade. My sister Juni's solid with a sword too."
"I'll find where they're being held and assess their condition," Dem said. "Anything beyond that will be my decision."
"Thank you, Commander."
"Just call me Dem."