The night was peaceful.

A shadow moved across the rooftops, slipping from tile to tile with the grace of a hooded ferret. It reached the window of Garlan and Marenna’s room.

With a slow, practiced motion, it slid the glass open.
A small gust of cool air swept into the room.

Garlan, sleeping near the window, stirred.
He felt the chill, twitched a hand in reflex.

A tiny magical burst shot from his fingers, blasting the intruder square in the chest.
With a startled squeak, the shadow was hurled out of the window in a graceful arc, vanishing into the night.

We never did find out what it was.
May it rest in peace.

The window clicked shut again, caught in the countercurrent.

Silence returned.

Then, two more figures crept down the hallway. The door creaked open.

Marenna, half-asleep, tugged the blanket tighter around her.
But in doing so, she accidentally uncovered Garlan, who shivered and tried to grab the covers back.
He lifted his hand.

Another gust shot out.

The two intruders—later confirmed via autopsy to be goblins—were slammed against the far wall like bowling pins.
Solid impact.
Slide.
Final sigh.

Garlan, eyes still closed, rolled over.

Marenna, not even opening hers, mumbled:

— “You’re snoring. Don’t move too much.”

All was calm again.
For now.

Morning came with a racket of yelling and hurried footsteps downstairs.

Still groggy, Garlan blinked one eye open, then the other. He turned toward Marenna.

She was sleeping peacefully.
Well… one of her breasts had slipped free during the night.

Cue: another nosebleed.

He recoiled in panic, wiping his face and scrambling to get dressed without tripping.

Marenna, eyes half-lidded, stretched like a cat.

— “Still bleeding?” she sighed.

They got dressed quickly and opened the door.

Garlan frowned.

— “Huh… Were those carvings in the wall there yesterday?”

Two silhouettes embedded in the corridor wall stared silently back at them, mouths agape.

Garlan leaned in.

— “Weird... doesn’t look human. Or like anything I’ve ever seen.”

Tharion, of course, had heard nothing during the night.
Which made sense—he’d passed out with roughly six grams of alcohol in each leg.

Garlan sighed and raised his hand.

— “Time for a wake-up call…”

He conjured a small water cloud and sent a wind blast into it.
The resulting downpour crashed over Tharion in a freezing, manly deluge.

— “RHAA BY THE HAUNCHES of a congested troll!”

The centaur leapt upright on all fours, soaked and blinking.

— “Garlan! You better have a damn good reason!”

The two teens stood waiting, smug.

— “Too much to drink again? Headache this morning?” Garlan teased.

Tharion, still dripping, growled.

— “Nonsense. I feel great.”

— “Perfect,” said Marenna. “Then you can tell us whether these… carvings were here last night. And what exactly they are.”

Tharion sniffed and raised an eyebrow.

— “Carvings? Where?”

They stepped into the hallway, and Tharion froze as he saw the wall art in question.

His eyes widened.

— “Hmm… Nope. Doesn’t ring a bell. And honestly, they don’t look like much. Maybe goblins—ones that went through a grain mill.”

He straightened, suddenly serious.

— “I’ll go notify the Adventurers’ Guild. There’s gotta be a doctor for… situations like this.”

A few minutes later, two guild members arrived.
They carefully extracted the flattened corpses—well, as carefully as one can handle two goblin pancakes—and hauled them off on a reinforced stretcher toward the nearest infirmary.

Marenna, curious, stepped closer.

— “Can I come along? I’d really like to meet a healer and learn more about local medicine.”

One of the guild members, a burly half-dwarf whose tabard was a size too small, raised his brows.

— “You can, but, uh… It’s not really the potion and bandage type, y’know. More like a… slicing workshop.”

Marenna paused a beat. Then smiled sweetly.

— “Wonderful. I’m curious to see how autopsies are done here.”

Garlan stared at her in horror.

— “Note to self: never fall sick when you’re around.”