No one’s foolish enough to volunteer for the ridiculously treacherous healer-fetching mission that could save the beloved, ailing Grand Commander. Enter Golnick the Agreeable: exuberant singer, extreme optimist, failed dragon-slayer. Namely, the perfect candidate to complete a fool’s errand. Pity about the sabotage, though. ADVENTURER’S GUIDE meets ELF.
Golnick the Agreeable was not a big fan of war. This was understandable—unlike birthday presents and puppies, war wasn’t designed to be enjoyed. But in his twelve years, Golnick hadn’t met anyone who shared the sentiment. In fact, adults repeatedly shushed him for being too young and foolish to understand such matters.
Humming quietly, Golnick squinted at the scorched battlefield. His nerves jangled even though the day’s fighting was long finished. Most things made Golnick nervous these days, ever since Foldark the Melodramatic had flung a goat from his balcony right as Golnick passed below. To Golnick, the world had become the kind of place where flying livestock could strike you down at any moment.
It didn’t help that the battlefield was littered with abandoned enemy tech. The incomprehensible contraptions always made Golnick extra skittish. Despite his uncle Ulvnar’s reassurances, he still half-expected the damaged weaponry to whir back to life. An upturned clockwork cannon nearby looked especially shifty.
But Golnick’s current unease stemmed from an entirely different source. Namely, the unmistakable roastiness of the battle’s casualties. He couldn’t understand it—the enemy never used its dragon to attack people, even temporarily dead ones.
Ulvnar wheeled his heavy barrow alongside Golnick. “Our enemy’s strategies have turned ruthless since their Grand Commander fell ill. Say what you will about the old man, at least he showed respect for fallen troops. Whoever’s in charge now has no honour.” He slapped Golnick’s back. “Come, lad. Our mages have only a short window to revive this lot.”