Of course, fear was still there. Beam thought it always would be. But now he had the skills to easily overcome battles like this – he felt he had more room to move and try things out.
He plucked up one of the discarded goblin bows from the ground. It was about half the size of the bows that he was used to. But upon pulling back the twisted cordage that served as its string, he found that it still held a considerable amount of tension.
"These are well made..." he murmured. He'd known it already, but the state of such weapons – weapons that they had clearly made themselves – showed just how dangerous these horned goblins would be.
They'd shown the barest glimmerings of instinctual battle tactics as well – even ambushing him at the start. Had he been a lesser man, as soon as they managed to catch him unawares as they did and send him flying, then he would certainly be dead by now.
"Hm... What to do?" Beam murmured to himself as he twirled his sword in thought.
The mountains were a mess now, by the looks of things. There was a far greater danger than he was used to. The question then, was just how far did that danger extend? How many of these monsters could he expect to come through?
Beam bit his lip in frustration, because there was no way of easily answering that question. He was already nearly done with his morning patrol route. Would cycling back for another lap ensure that no monsters managed to make it to the lower village? He wasn't sure.
"It's worth a try at least," Beam murmured. But even from what minimal experience he had in strategy, he knew that merely addressing the same problem over and over and dealing with it reactively – that wasn't a good long-term plan. So far, he knew nothing of what was causing these anomalies. Nor did he know if it would get worse.
The very thought of it worsening sent a shiver down his spine.
"I need more hands," he decided. There was too much ground to cover alone. At the very least, he needed to figure out some way to garner the information that he needed. There was Greeves, of course – and that was about the only hope he had.
He knocked again, this time a little harder.
The door shifted this time, from the increased force of his fist, and the heavy slab of wood creaked on its hinges.
"It's not even locked?" Beam murmured, eyeing the handle. He narrowed his eyes, feeling the hairs on the back of his head stand up. With the state of the monsters in the forest, he was far more on edge than normal. He felt a bad feeling in his gut.
He glanced behind him once more, to check to see if anyone was watching, and then he cautiously pawed the door open, stepping inside.
His feet booted feat sounded far too heavy on the wooden floorboards for his liking. His sword was sheathed as his hip, but after gently closing the door, his hand found its way to the hilt.
He looked up the stairs as he slowly crept forward in a crouch, looking for sounds of life.
"THAT BASTARD!" He heard a shout from deeper within the house followed by the sound of something smashing. His shoulders eased up slightly, as he recognized Greeves' unmistakable voice.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Even though it certainly sounded like something had happened, at least the merchant's anger offered an end to the tension.
Beam stepped into the dining room and called out towards Greeves' office. "This a bad time, merchant?"
The door was already half open, and the heated conversation that was going on inside paused in response to his voice. There was a moment of quiet, before a woman poked her head out of the door, a distressed look on her face.