As the golden hour of the late afternoon bathed the outpost in a warm, faint glow, a circular fog clung to its surroundings.

The solitary tower, a rugged structure of stone walls ensconced between sturdy iron beams, stood as the outpost's sentinel. On its edges and some flat surfaces, a thick blanket of snow had piled up.

Above, a sturdy octagonal structure crowned the tower's ceiling, revealing a metallic infrastructure that often emitted a mystical purplish and blue energy beam. And the military's emblem, a red flag with a skull and two crossed swords, fluttered proudly in the wind.

Nestled in an opening encircled by wintered trees, a dark-brown wooden fence, sporadically adorned with barbed wire, protected the outpost. And in the left side of the building, three barns were used for housing horses and wagons.

Raffin guided his horse towards the barn, his wagon creaking, as he hummed a low, melodic tune to himself.

Javier let out an audible grumble, his shoulders slumping and his steps slowing as he spoke. "My good sir, using the Jumper again, alas."

Asdras surveyed the outpost with a contemplative smile, his thoughts drifting toward the distant city they were destined for.

Brian, nearby, whistled cheerfully. "I reckon I just love this place."

The outpost's interior spanned three functional floors.

The first floor emanated warmth, inviting both workers and weary travelers to gather and sate their appetites. Torches lined the walls, and two roaring fireplaces cast flickering light across the space. Sturdy wooden beams above aimed to repel the winter chill, while cracked tables filled the center, and a balcony at the top left hosted a variety of alcoholic beverages and steaming hot drinks. Nearby, a notice board displayed posters and pinned newspapers, offering tidbits of information and intrigue.

Ascending to the second floor, one would find the sleeping quarters. Bunks were neatly arranged in rows, each adorned with thick fur blankets and wooden hooks to hang personal belongings. No windows graced this level; instead, lamps and candles provided the sole source of illumination.

The third floor was the administrative heart of the outpost. Maps were unfurled upon tables, and officers congregated to work on papers, read reports, and discuss their duties. An intriguing mechanism, when pressed, opened circular holes around the office, granting a parallax view of the surrounding landscape. The room was bathed in light from thick ropes holding lamps in the ceiling, illuminating the complex web of bureaucracy that kept the outpost running smoothly.

Raffin adjusted his bag in his left hand, meticulously ensuring that all its contents were in their proper places, nothing missing.

He turned to his group and said, "Right, I'll be heading to give my report. You all can choose to grab a bite or hit the sack early. Come dawn, we'll be hitting Baurus."

Javier scratched his belly while yawning and mumbling. "I'm goin' to kick off me boots and give a shot at gettin' some o' that energy back, my good saviors."

Brian and Asdras exchanged glances and nodded in agreement, both uttering in unison, "Let's eat."

Before he headed into the outpost, Raffin cautioned them to stay vigilant, reminding them that travelers were sadly known to lose their heads from time to time.

Brian and Asdras made their way to the balcony, their gazes sweeping over the quiet expanse of the nearly vacant floor. Only three individuals occupied the scattered tables, lending an odd emptiness to the place.

One figure, a woman, sat alone, her face hidden in the depths of a mug. Faint tendrils of smoke swirled around her, and her body slouched over the table. Her distant gaze suggested a battle between seeking sleep and grappling with inner demons.

In the farthest corner, a rugged and skinny man donned a thick leather jacket. He engrossed himself in an old, unmarked brown book.

Behind the balcony, an officer stood guard, a true northerner in appearance. He boasted a thick beard, short hair, and a sturdy build, donned in the common soldier's uniform. A faint, pale blue leather jacket adorned with stripes and a belt with several pockets completed his attire. As he watched the approaching duo, he went about his task of cleaning the balcony with a stern expression, his eyes holding a sense of vigilance and scrutiny.

The tavern keeper observed Asdras and Brian intently, his gaze lingering on Asdras's weapon. With a stern look, he advised him to keep his sword sheathed.

Asdras nodded shyly and obediently replied, "Okay," as he carefully stowed his sword in its scabbard.

Brian's attention shifted to the array of items behind the balcony. His eyes lit up as he turned to the man and requested two bottles of ale and supper.

The man appraised them before stating, "That'll be 10 coins now."

Asdras almost choked, his voice dry as he repeated, "10 coins?"

The man shrugged and said, "It's a rough winter, you see, and there's an Eruption on the horizon. Hence the price."

"We're with Raffin, the deliverer." Brian scratched his head as he tried to bargain. "Heard it's free when you tag along with a delivery man to the city."

The tavern keeper leaned down and placed a hefty book on the balcony, flipping through its pages until he found the desired passage. Pointing with his finger, he warned. "Here. You certain? Spinning tales with the military can spell real trouble for you."

The boys nodded, gesturing to reassure him.

Sighing, the man instructed them to wait and proceeded to fetch the bottles of ale. They were thick and honey-colored, foaming to a white head as he filled one for Brian and another for Asdras. He then summoned someone from the extreme corner of the balcony, leading to an underground door, to bring their suppers.

Brian took a sip, his face turning reddish, while Asdras nearly coughed from the intense flavor. Soon, an officer woman emerged from the underground door, carrying wooden bowls in each hand, which she placed on the balcony.

Two bowls of a hearty soup made of fragrant herbs, a succulent piece of red meat, and two generous pieces of bread.

They sat at a nearby table, quietly savoring their meal and ale. Their conversation flowed easily until Raffin, sneaking up behind them, gave them a little fright with a playful joke about their ale-drinking in his name.

"Enjoying that ale, are you? Well, letting it aside, I wouldn't be going to the city tomorrow," he said, while adjusting his shoulders. "Some emergency in a village."

Asdras scratched his neck before asking him. "Wait, really? What about the enrollment for the academy?"

"Take this," he said, handing Asdras a bag. "You're to deliver it to the bishop at the church. If anyone questions you, just flash the letter inside the bag. But keep in mind, don't go prying into that letter, or you'll find yourself in a whole heap of trouble."

"Uh, where are we gonna bunk down for the night?"

Raffin searched in his pocket before handing over to each of them two gold coins and fifty silver coins. "Spend it wisely."

"Now, take care, and best of luck with the exams," he bid them farewell, waving his hand as he made his way toward the exit.

"Dude, I'm thinking 'bout getting me a real nice leather jacket, y'know? One o' them ones with lots o' pockets," Brian mused, his mind fixated on the idea. "It's handy in the wild, serves as a makeshift blanket, and makes for a decent hideaway for a hidden weapon, too."

Asdras smiled and gestured with his finger to the number two. "Don't forget that book about the monsters and stuff; it will be handy for us."

"Yup, you got a point there." Brian nodded with a grin. "Might as well polish off this meal, and we'll wash it down with more drink than a thirsty bull at a watering hole."

As they finished their meal and ale, they contemplated asking for another bottle when their attention shifted to the abrupt entrance of a man. He stumbled between tables and chairs, his euphoric demeanor catching everyone's attention.

The man stopped near the balcony and eagerly requested ale. The pub keeper quizzed him about what had happened, while the woman who had been dozing over her table and a man in the corner, previously engrossed in his book, paused to listen attentively.

The man drained the bottle in one gulp, then slammed it onto the floor with a thud. "He's back!"

"Who?"

"Take a look," the man said, holding out the newspaper for the tavern keeper to read.

Everyone neared him to understand the commotion.

"It's a newspaper straight from the Human Council, fresh off the press this very night."

Their gasps resonated through the room as the revelation sank in. The source of this revelation was none other than the Human Council, situated in the prestigious Central Lands. The Council held the highest position in society, wielding the power to shape laws and issue directives. Whenever they distributed a newspaper, it ensured that every corner of human society received a copy.

"It reads," the officer said, spreading the newspaper over the balcony. "The Return of the Fool: Caution Urged, Report Duck Flag Sightings to the Nearest Military Post"

Brian cast a bewildered glance at Asdras, struggling to grasp the unfolding situation. The tavern keeper, taken aback, hastily found his seat to regain his composure. Murmurs rippled through those nearby, with one individual reaching for the newspaper to confirm the startling news. In the midst of the commotion, a drunken patron miraculously gasped upon catching wind of the newspaper's headline.

"But who in tarnation is this Fool?" Brian asked, his gaze sweeping over the assembled group as he sought an answer.

"Well," the officer began, his tone serious and his gaze directed toward the open door. "He's the one fella who's managed to ruin every scheme the Human Council's cooked up. I mean, we're talkin' about a guy with a hundred-percent track record for messing them up."

"But why'd they call him 'the fool'?" Asdras found himself intrigued by the notion of one man standing against the entire council.

"His actions," the man delivering the news explained, "make the council look like fools every single time. It's as if a grown man were picking on a child, in other words."

"And here's the kicker," the officer added, his hands stretching the newspaper. "Every move he makes, to us, seems downright foolish. But, in the end, it turned out it was too late to do anything about it..."

"I'm kinda lost here," Brian admitted, scratching his head in confusion. "I mean, why do they say his actions are foolish?"

"Ten years ago," the woman who had been somewhat tipsy sobered up as she shared about the man. "The Fool, he was spotted plantin' seeds near the Beauty Field walls. Back then, nobody could make heads or tails of what he was up to. But just a year later, the whole city got wrecked. I mean, every last house, wall, and structure got swallowed up by these plants," she paused dramatically. "And you wanna know the real kicker? The soil there was as dead as a doornail. Nothin' ever grew in it, not even a darn worm. But in the end..."

"So, he's really a threat?" Asdras asked, his brows furrowing in confusion and a look of concern crossing his face.

"Indeed," the outpost's chief descended the staircase and approached them. "It's not his actions that make him dangerous. He's not some crazed lunatic or common bandit. What sets him apart is his cunning and the audacity to play the fool. Underestimate a fool, and you'll only end up making a fool of yourself."

The officer saluted him, "Chief!"

"Very well, everyone, it's time to turn in," he commanded, then turned his attention to Brian and Asdras. "And that includes you two, gentlemen. The Jumper's been arranged for your group bright and early in the morning. Don't be tardy, or you'll miss your chance to head to Baurous."