Ignoring the merchant’s rambling, the guardsmen squared their shoulders and turned to face the group standing before them. One of the guardsmen spoke: "You’re the owners of this bounty, I presume?"

"Resven Longsteed of House Osric." Resven extended his arm for a handshake and was greeted with a nod.

The man stood surprised for a moment before chuckling, "Dorrn Tallvalor, High Warden of House Morvayn." He stepped forward and grabbed Resven’s forearm in return.

"There ain’t many that still use the old ways of greetings anymore," the man continued, removing his helmet to reveal dazzling blonde hair and crystal-blue eyes. The man was handsome in every sense of the word.

"Well, we in the mountains still remember," Resven shrugged lightly.

The man looked at Resven in surprise, his brow raising, but then his eyes turned to Mestin, and he gaped slightly, "Well, if you have one of the giant blood, then it’s understandable. I hear they keep to traditions, the giant folk."

’Giant folk?’ Resven hurriedly turned to observe Mestin, and for a full minute, he stood in silence.

"You say you live in the mountains, correct? And you’re from House Osric?" the man questioned with an inquisitive gaze.

"Aye indeed, towards the High Reach at the base of the spires," Resven nodded. The man was clearly someone the townsfolk respected; they would look at him in such an awed manner, and the fact that such a man came before them in a friendly manner had all but increased the good impression Resven had on the man.

The man seemed to want to speak once more when the sound of Balka’s voice once more rang out, this time louder and more excited than any before, and it drew surprises and gasps from the crowd as he spoke and lifted up the materials.

Both men whipped their heads towards the halfling who had at one point in time found himself leaning over the edge of the third cart.

"HA! HA-HA! BY THE MOTHER’S APRON STRINGS! YOU’VE DONE IT! YOU’VE ACTUALLY DONE IT!" He clutched his stomach as he jumped straight into the cart, pulling up one beast material after another.

"The Blàr-Art! A Fortress Ursa! You’ve outdone yourself, laddie!" He pulled on a material and showed it to the crowd. It was the hide of the beast, a bear-like, primal beast.

"Look at this grit-hide—it’s like a mountain wore a coat of scale-mail! It’s heavy, oh it’s heavy! A bit battered on the left flank—did you wrestle it? Of course you did! The gall-ichor is still warm, I’d wager! Four Gilt Thorns for the pelt and thirty silver for the ichor... that’s 510 Silver for the bear alone! My hands are tingling just touching it!

"And these Sgeir-Ghas... two Crag-Claws! The piton-claws are intact—mostly! One’s chipped, looks like it tried to bite a hammer and lost! But the mottled slate fur? Beautiful! Pristine! 90 Silver for the sets of claws and a king’s ransom for the hides... let’s call it 180 Silver for the pair!"

Gasp after gasp rang out as the man jumped around like a fly around a light.

"It seems you’ve brought a bountiful harvest indeed," the High Warden nodded as he stepped forward next to Resven.

"Haha! Indeed, the beasts keep on encroaching on our territory, so we had no choice. Especially with the increase in red-tier beasts running towards the edges of the forest."

The High Warden turned to Resven, his brows furrowed, and with a serious expression, he asked, "Increasing number of beasts? Since when?"

"Ah, three days prior, probably. We asked the builders’ guild to notify the city guards about that, but beasts are moving closer to the edges, and it looks like something has spooked them. All 10 of these dark red beasts have been hunted in the last few days, but there were a few more that escaped our parties." Resven nodded and quickly informed the man with a stroke of his chin as if he had difficulty remembering what had transpired over the course of the last few days.

"Well then, you’ll have to excuse me. I have to report this to the Lord. It was a pleasure to meet you, and I hope you continue hunting the beasts in the future. After all, the more we slay, the safer our people are." Putting on his helmet, he turned to walk away. He had greeted Resven and then rushed off towards the lord’s hall.

"Look at this beauty—the Sgiath-Raoir! You didn’t burst the eardrums of the world, did you? No, you took..." The voice of Balkas faded into the background as Resven stared at the man disappearing from his sight.

He had no idea who the man was or his standing, and intending to find out, he walked towards the old man who had spoken with him earlier, "Greetings, old sir, I would like to ask. The man introduced himself as Dorrn Tallvalor, but it’s unfortunate that I couldn’t get to know him a bit more before he had to leave. I would like to ask... who is he?"

The older-looking man had started walking away when Resven called out to him and spoke to him in a respectful manner. "Oh! That man is the youngest High Warden Captain in the history of Morvayn, quite the prodigal. I even heard he was offered to join the Talon Guard but declined, wanting to remain in the army itself. Not many warriors in the city are as strong as him."

The man spoke with such vigor and pride that Resven could almost mistake him for being Dorrn’s father, the way he was speaking. ’If that is true, he is at least orange tier...’

"Ah, much appreciated, old sir, may the sun lighten your day in grace." Resven thanked him and walked towards the cart, just in time to hear Balkas call out to him.

Balkas had fallen back against the side of the cart, panting, his face flushed with a deep, ecstatic purple. He was busy wiping beads of sweat from his brow, his eyes wide and wild.