Heather Wasteland, southwest.
About five kilometers west of the old watchpost.
On a moonless night, the last trace of gray-blue afterglow lingered on the distant horizon.
A campfire burned quietly in a windbreak formed by three rocks, its light revealing five figures and a patch of artificially cleared ground trampled flat.
Several unrolled sleeping bags, an iron pot set over the fire, ration bags and waterskins scattered across the ground.
Something bubbled away in the iron pot, smelling like a concoction of dried meat, dried vegetables, and half a rock-hard loaf of bread that had been sitting around for who knew how long, all thrown together and boiled to death.
"Who knows where all the ogres around Dalt Town went? Why did a full-class party show up too?"
Mage Ryan sat cross-legged on a sleeping bag, one hand cradling a dim crystal ball while the other stirred the pot gloomily with a wooden spoon.
"That party called, what, Sterilization?" The old hunter Feyn had a pipe clenched between his teeth as he squatted beside the fire, skillfully shaving an arrow shaft with a small knife. "Can't help it if someone else has their eye on this place too."
Ryan lifted his chin. "There weren't many commissions to begin with, and now someone's trying to snatch them from us. What rotten luck."
"It's a good thing for that town if someone else is sharing the burden." The female knight Edlin's voice came from the other side of the fire.
She sat with her back against a rock, wiping down her sword blade with an oiled cloth.
"Besides, the wasteland is hardly lacking in Demonic Beasts. Feyn found a great many ogre tracks today. By the looks of it, those big fellows shouldn't be far from us."
Feyn nodded. He held the