Chapter 2: Undying Greed

[Ask him about your destiny]

This wasn't an easy choice, but when I think about it InGen makes a good point. She could probably get the most information with this choice. She could probably learn about some of his and Pardona's plans for her with the answer to this question. However, it might not be as detailed if  she asked for the specific plans of one of them.

So much happened in this part. There was some crazy reveals! I did not expect Pyrdacor to be Vayadona's actual father and for her to be half dragon. So this means her mother has been lying to her about her actual father. I guess this explains why Orima trusted him enough to bring her back to life. It also makes me think that part of the reason why Orima is trying to deify her late husband is partially because she may see it as a form of repentance for betraying her husband and engaging a scandalous affair with their enemy. I wonder if he knew his daughter was not his biological daughter. If Orima hid this from him, that might also be something she feels the need to repent for. 

Another shocking event was the death to Lysira! This proves that this Lysira is definitely not the same one that Yveshin just met. This was definitely devastating to Vayadonna, and we have yet to see how this event fully shapes her. However, I'm curious about the political implications of Lysira's death for the elven kingdom. She was the favorite daughter of one of Orima's most powerful vassels. She was a mini princess in her own right. This event could be enough to bring the two kingdoms to war, but if Orima does not wish to go to war she risks angering her mosty powerful vassel. Not only does Orima probably blame herself for sending her but Lysira's father probably blames the Queen for putting his daughter into harms way in the first place. This event could definitely lead to turmoil in the elven kingdom. Lysira's father may decide to rebel against Orima's rule. Especially if she seeks no retaliation against Pyrdacor. He may decide to either break away from her domain or possibly try to have Orima removed and replaced somehow.

That is an understatement, but yes, yes he is. Most dragons are assholes, even the rare benevolent ones are at the very least massive pricks. And after this part, it should be clear that while Pyrdacor is many things, he is not benevolent by any definition and he is even more self-centered and megalomaniac than what is common among dragons. That being said, he is (shockingly) by no means the worst of his kind, since he is primarily focused on becoming more powerful and on being worshipped and respected instead of being actively malevolent for the sake of it. I can safely say that while there will be dragons in the story who are way better, likeable and benevolent than Pyrdacor, not that that's a big accomplishment, at least one of them will make him look like a legit saint by comparison. Doesn't change the fact that he is an asshole and that the voice has been right about literally every single warning it uttered about him.[/quote]

Ah, while I cannot go into full detail here, let me just say that the full relationship between Orima and Pyrdacor will be revealed in Luna's next part. It's a complex situation that goes way beyond the queen having an affair with her nations biggest rival. All that is confirmed right now is that Vayadona has Pyrdacor's blood within her veins, which makes her half-dragon. At the same time, this situation might be a bit more complex than her simply being the result of an affair between the high-elven queen and the god-dragon. As for Orima, she is a very complex character, on the one hand she is the greatest champion her people have and one of the few mortals who have ever posed a genuine threat to Pyrdacor, on the other hand she is a deeply flawed person. She means well, she always did, but her mistakes are numerous. The next part will put a lot of spotlight onto this relationship and the consequences of it.



Aye, this is definitely an entirely different person who just uses the same name. Lysira's death was a massive blow to Vayadona, but also to the elves as a whole, even if we won't see the full consequences in person. The second half of Luna's storyline in this chapter will be dedicated to her present-day storyline, so there are only two more flashbacks planned and only the next of them will really showcase the consequences of Pyrdacor's actions in this part, but I believe it won't disappoint on delivering some exposition. Also, I aim to show further events in this flashback storyline at a later point, though through the eyes of a different character, revealing new information that is relevant to this storyline and to events that'll happen in future chapters. In a way, this is really the beginning of the end for the high elven empire. There's no such realm in the present day, the elven cities are in ruin, their descendants, the modern elves, have no sort of functioning higher government anymore and the few elves who still call themselves high elves hide themselves from the rest of the world on their island far to the north. A series of terrible events must have happened between these flashbacks and the present day and we'll see some of them in the next flashbacks to come and in a future chapter as well, when I intend to revisit this particular storyline. Lysira's death is likely among these events and as you rightly pointed out, she was a princess in her own right, socially just a little bit below Vayadona and her father is almost Orima's equal in worldly power. The fallout from her death in particular will receive some major spotlight in the next flashback!

Phew, I just realized I released the part in the Forum of Thrones thread Let's try it again in its proper location now, shall we?

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In the end, Edmond could not bring himself to do it. Necromancy, even born from a desire to do good, would always remain a wicked thing. There were some of his fellow Borbaradians who saw their master’s teachings as freedom from morality, a permission to do whatever they wanted, but Edmond was not like them. Borbarad did not promise freedom from any morals, but rather the freedom to follow one’s own morals. And that is what Edmond would do, always, without compromise. Necromancers, demon cultists, even those who worshipped the Nameless One, he would judge them by what they sought to accomplish, but he would never lower himself to their level.

“We’re not going to summon his spirit”, he decided. Urdo seemed oddly disappointed, but there was a barely hidden expression of relief on Azaril’s face. “Thank you”, she whispered. “I didn’t know him well, but he still deserves better than that” Urdo shook his head. “He was our enemy”, he mumbled, his gaze swiftly darting from Azaril to Edmond, then to the unconscious Viselis.

“And still he was a good man”, Azaril replied, her tone sharper now that she spoke to Urdo. “I may not share his beliefs, but without his leadership, tens of thousands would have died during the March of the Thousand Ogres. He was a defender of the Middenrealm, yes, but most importantly he was a defender of its people and I must respect that. Were he alive today, he’d be our enemy, but as it stands, I say he deserved his rest”

Edmond took a long, careful look around the tomb and a grim feeling grew within his gut. “We may be too late for that already”, he spoke. “Braken did some kind of a ritual here. He desecrated this tomb, most likely to summon and bind Viburn’s ghost. Viselis clearly interrupted him, but that doesn’t mean his ritual was a failure. If I had to guess, I’d wager he succeeded in the first part, yanking Viburn’s soul from Boron’s halls, but he clearly did not manage to bind it to this place”

“It would be imprudent to just dismiss his efforts”, Azaril admitted. “Braken died for this and the least we can do is to see his final efforts through. Yet… if we rule out necromancy, is there another way? I know certain witches can communicate with the dead, but… that’s beyond my knowledge” Edmond shook his head. “It’s not just witches. Any mage could, with the right approach”, he replied, thinking back to his days in Punin. Speaking with dead souls was, at best, viewed with utmost and rightful suspicion in the Middenrealm, but his academy had always been a treasure trove of knowledge. With the right clearance and under proper supervision, anything could be learned within the academy and Edmond had always been a curious student.

“Though most unbound spirits move on quickly, some manage to linger if they still have ties to this plane. Most ghost sightings come from such unfortunate souls”, he explained. “And under the right circumstances, it can be possible to communicate with such them. First of all, there has to be something that ties Viburn to this plane, a strong emotional connection. Love or family… was he married?”

Azaril shook his head. “Only to his duties”, she stated, to Edmond’s dismay. “Anger would be a similarly strong tie, or perhaps regrets”, he mumbled, before his expression lit up. “He died during the early days of the Orkenstorm!”, he realized. “Though Lord Dragosh quickly took command, there were weeks in which the church had been in disarray, while the Blackfurs rampaged across the country. Griffinsford and the western Meadows were overrun, thousands died as the Church of Rondra had been unable to protect them”

“That must be a strong regret for such a righteous man”, Azaril realized. “Would it be enough for him to linger even after his death?” Edmond shook his head, this time without even hesitating. “There’s a protective ward on his tomb, a blessed engraving meant to help a soul move on, especially one wracked with guilt”, he spoke. “Though those wards never stopped a skilled necromancer… take a look at this” He reached for the sarcophagus, moving his fingers over the subtle engravings on its side. “Someone scratched them off right here… and here”

“Korobar would be so proud right now…”, Urdo hissed and Edmond clenched one fist, trying his best to ignore him. “Do you have anything of value to add, Urdo?”, Azaril replied, her tone chilling. “Please continue, Edmond. You think Braken did this?” Edmond gave her a nod. “Has to be. He weakened the wards, probably trying to lure Viburn’s soul closer to this sphere. Perhaps we don’t need to resort to necromancy to finish his final plan”

“You think Viburn’s ghost is lingering around already…”, Azaril realized. Now a small, but genuine smile appeared on Edmond’s face, as he pointed at the unconscious Viselis. “She mentioned Braken spoke to someone back when she ambushed him”, he replied. “If he summoned Viburn’s ghost, then all we need is a strong connection to finish his work, a personal item he cherished, or someone close to him. Do you know if he had family? Close friends perhaps?”

“No family to speak of”, Azaril explained quickly. “Lord Viburn was the last of his line, a minor nobleman, landless and impoverished. If not for his faith, his life would have been entirely unremarkable” The elf smirked mildly. “In a way, he has that in common with each of us…”, she sighed. “Viburn has been a priest of Rondra for over four decades and he led his church for half of that time. There’s been a lot of comrades, brothers and sisters in arms no doubt, but no family, not even a paramour as far as I know”

“Then we’ll need a personal item”, Edmond decided. He glanced into the sarcophagus once more. Lord Viburn had been buried in full plate armour, the visor of his helmet open. The massive breastplate was varnished silver, with red engravings within, forming the highly stylized sigil of the goddess Rondra. Both hands were folded over his chest, but just as he focussed on them, Edmond noticed something unusual. “His sword is missing…”, he whispered.

Azaril stood by his side at once. “That’s… unusual”, she admitted. “Even the lowliest priest of Rondra is buried with their sword, but somehow their head of faith is missing his?” Edmond moved closer to the open sarcophagus. Up close, the damage Braken’s spell had done to the stone was tremendous. The entire upper half of the lid had been pulverized, with fine dust covering Viburn’s hands. “Look at this…”, he mumbled as he moved one finger across the dead knight’s gloves. When he pulled it back, it was black with dust. “Braken opened the sarcophagus, but he did not take the sword. Whoever took it did so long before, else we’d see dust here”

“Perhaps he wasn’t even buried with it”, Azaril brought up. “Which… really doesn’t make any sense. I’ve heard of knights who rather sacrificed life and limb than be parted with their sword” She was right there, Edmond knew how important their personal sword was to a priest of Rondra. More than a simple weapon or even a symbol of status, it was so deeply tied to their faith that losing it was seen as one of the gravest sins a priest could commit. Their sword was with them from the moment they received it and the occasions were a priest was permitted to put it down could be counted on one hand. Death was not among them. “His sword is exactly what we need”, he decided. “If it was taken from him for a reason, then Alicent might know more… Braken’s spy here in the castle, I mean”

“She could be of use to us, yes”, Azaril agreed. “I may had my disagreements with Braken over his treatment of his students, but he knew how to keep them loyal and… attentive” She glanced at the unconscious Viselis and her expression hardened. “But… be gentle to her, Edmond”, she mumbled. “The poor thing will be crushed when she hears of Braken. Perhaps it’ll be better not to tell her until we have what we need”

“You think we should hide this from her?”, Edmond asked and Azaril gave him a nod. “Only until we have what we need”, the elf confirmed. “Perhaps her pain will be eased if she knows she had a hand in finishing Braken’s final plan. If she takes it badly, she might jeopardize our presence here” Her expression softened slightly. “But in the end, it’s your call. I won’t be coming back with you, of course”

“That’d be difficult, yeah”, Edmond admitted, before he glanced at Viselis. “Can you deal with her?” Now, almost immediately, any trace of kindness was gone from Azaril’s face. A piercing amber gaze darted towards the unconscious woman. “Death would be too good for her”, she hissed, her voice hollow with anger. “But I will not harm her, not until we know for sure how she managed to overpower Braken. And that artefact of hers… this is old magic. I doubt she created it. We need to know what it is and who gave it to her”

She noticed the expression on his face and a mildly amused chuckle left her throat. “And don’t you worry about me”, she sighed. “She’ll be out cold for a few days, I’ll make sure of it. And if I’m going to have a say in her fate, she’ll never cast another spell again” It was not an idle threat. Azaril was pleasant, kind, a true friend, but Edmond would never make the mistake of considering her soft.

“Go now”, the elf spoke. “I’ll stay in the caves and keep an eye on this murderer and her artefact. Make sure Asmodeus is well and find out what Braken was planning. Something’s deeply wrong here” She gave him a long, stern look. “Be careful, Edmond”, she warned him. “There are darker forces at work in this land and we’ll do good to stay beneath their attention” With these words, she remained behind, as Edmond and Urdo left the crypt, crawling back through the tunnel and then into the cave. Azaril would be alright, he was sure of it, but Edmond could not shake off a feeling of dread as he looked back one last time, spotting the rotten remains of Braken von Shreign. With the cult leader dead, perhaps their best shot at restoring Borbarad’s body was gone and no matter what they could achieve here, he was not certain they could recover from this loss.

The way back went by slowly, with only Urdo to keep him company. For a man this fast, his companion was decidedly tiring. He barely spoke and Edmond wouldn’t have it any other way and yet, there was something between them now, a tense silence that lasted all the way through the caves and up the tunnel. Back above ground, Urdo let out a sigh of relief, visibly calmer now that he was no longer confined to the narrow cavern.

“I…”, Edmond began, as they had almost reached the edge of the forest. Beyond, there was only the snow-covered plains, with the mighty keep in the distance. To think that there was such a cavern below their feet was staggering. The Blackfurs would have paid any price for such knowledge, though Edmond was by no means willing to sell it to them. The Rondrians were enemies of his faith, but at least they were better than the orks.

“Got something to say?”, Urdo hissed and Edmond shrugged. “You… saved my life down there”, the mage admitted and every single of these words cost him a lot of conviction. But Liscom had taught him never to leave a debt unpaid, in good and bad. He hated the very fact, but he was indebted to Urdo of Gisholm. “Thank you”, he mumbled. “I mean it”

“Didn’t do it for you”, Urdo replied. “You owe me nothing” That was it from him, as he continued to march down the road in silence. His dismissal was somehow even more infuriating than his usual attitude. A debt would be repaid in time, but until then it was gnawing at Edmond and Urdo knew this. His tiny, vicious smirk proved it all. Edmond would have rather been indebted to Korobar and after Drakesfield he probably even was, but this… it just felt wrong.

While Urdo had no trouble with traversing over the snow, to the point where he actually had to force himself to sink in deeper into it as they got closer to the Rhodestone, Edmond lacked his unnatural speed. His own march dragged on for the better part of two hours and by the time they arrived at the front gate, he was exhausted, breathing heavily to Urdo’s barely hidden amusement. Worse, the biting cold was getting to him and even though he was used to such weather from his childhood, this was not The sun was setting already and from the mighty walls, countless torches burned. The gate, however, was still open and as they approached it, a group of knights rode past them, likely from one of the outposts that surrounded the valley.

The guards did not stop them as the two men entered the keep. Edmond even recognized one of them who had been there back when they had left, several hours ago. Now clad in a thick fur coat on top of his heavy armour, he seemed well-protected against the cold, yet even this hardened warrior was shivering. It was not just the cold, but the wind that came with it. As someone who had lived in these lands for half of his live, Edmond knew that this wind was unnatural for the Meadows. It was stronger and sharper than what he was used to, a darker wind, a northern wind and the cold it brought came from a faraway place.

For such a late hour, the courtyard was remarkably busy, with priests of Rondra and their acolytes patrolling, still training their skill with the weapon or just talking with each other, more than just comrades, but brothers and sisters in arms. One of them, a higher-ranking officer most likely, was patrolling up and down a row of knights who were each training with their swords, presenting strikes and feints and parries.

The officer turned around again, now facing Edmond and Urdo and the mage recognized him. Walmir of Styring, Master of the Dominion Middenlands, whom he had met when first they had arrived at the Rhodestone. The knight’s bearded face darkened as he spotted the two and he approached them with a firm stride. “You two”, he growled. “You’ve been gone for awfully long. Where were you?”

“We’ve been to the forest”, Edmond replied quickly, a half-truth to hide his true intentions. Though Walmir was not the Sword of Swords, lying to him was no easy thing and his gaze pierced right through the mage. “It’s been hours in this cold”, he hissed. “You expect me to leave it at that?” He looked from Edmond to Urdo, his gaze inquisitive, distrustful but less overtly hostile than Dragosh’s and that little detail gave Edmond some reassurance. “Is this an interrogation, Sir?”, he asked.

Walmir narrowed his eyes, just for a moment, before his expression calmed again. “No”, he admitted. “I leave that to Lord Dragosh. He already questioned your friend today, the old man” Now, he waited a second, just long enough for Edmond to tense up. “And…?”, the mage asked. A smirk flashed across the knight’s face. “He passed”, he then revealed. “With flying colours, I might add. Not good enough to convince Lord Dragosh, but me and the rest of the council, we see this little endeavour as a waste of time. Keep your secrets if you must, but the Church of Rondra has better things to do than to harass any shady traveller that crosses our path”

“So, we’re no longer under investigation?”, Edmond asked, earning himself a chuckle. “Of course you still are”, he replied. “Dragosh overruled our concerns. I don’t know what you did to get on his bad side, but he’s adamant you’re hiding something. He won’t rest until all three of you have been thoroughly questioned. In fact, I’ve been told to send one of you to him straight away as soon as you return” The knight paused and his expression grew even more severe. “For your sake, I hope you had good reason to snoop around in the forest all day”, he added.

He looked from Edmond to Urdo, his gaze finally fixed on the latter. “You’ll come with me”, he growled. “Lord Dragosh wants answers and they better match the one we got from your companion” Immediately, all the bravado fell off Edmond’s companion. “Me?”, Urdo asked and Walmir gave him an impatient nod. “Yes, you”, he replied. “Lord Dragosh’s orders. I suppose this won’t be a problem?”

Urdo hesitated just a moment too long before he quietly nodded. He too had to realize just how screwed they were, for even though their cover story was believable, the Sword of Swords was on their trail, persistent as an Al’Anfanian bloodhound. Edmond had hoped they’d have at least one more day to make sure their answers would match, but Lord Dragosh would not even grant them that much. Worse, there was no way Urdo could pass an interrogation, not with the mark of the archdemon Lolgramoth hidden on his body. They had to come up with a plan and they had to do it fast.

“I’ll do it”, Urdo mumbled quickly, barely meeting the knight’s gaze. He had good reason to be nervous. Where Edmond and Asmodeus were heretics by the standards of the Church of the Twelve Gods, Urdo was a demon cultist, his offence punishable by a slow, painful death. His executioner in such a case would be Dragosh of Sicklecourt himself and Edmond could only imagine that the Sword of Swords would be all too willing to bestow justice upon him.

“Excellent”, Walmir of Styring replied. “Follow me then. As for you…” He glanced at Edmond, his gaze sharp, but not cruel. “I don’t like this either, but if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear”, he added. “I trust you’ll find back to your room on your own?” Edmond gave him a quiet nod, but as he gazed across the courtyard and towards the massive keep in its centre, he spotted another familiar face. “I wager I won’t have to, Sir”, he spoke, as he recognized Alicent.

Walmir followed his gaze. “Already made some friends here, haven’t you?”, he growled. “Well I won’t stop you as long as you won’t keep her from her actual duties” With these words, he gave him the briefest of nods, a tiny expression of respect, before he turned around, striding towards the keep with Urdo close by. Edmond’s companion could only throw one last pitiful gaze over his shoulder before both were gone.

Alicent’s expression proved that she knew exactly how bad this new development was. “Well… shit…”, she sighed as she reached him and Edmond barely managed to smile at her. “Good to see you too… Rose”, he greeted her. “I guess we’re screwed now?” She shrugged. “You might be”, she admitted straightforwardly. “A friend of mine among the servants overheard a few bits and pieces of Lord Dragosh’s interrogation. The council is not on board with his witch hunt, but he is certain you’re hiding something”

“He’s got good instincts”, Edmond admitted. The girl grimaced at these words. “He is dangerous”, she warned him. “Determined to protect his church and maybe just a wee bit overeager to prove himself” They walked towards the keep side by side and Edmond threw a glance at her. “Why would he need to prove himself?”, he asked. Now, Alicent gave him a swift smile and just like his own expression, it lacked any sort of genuine joy. “Think about it, mage. Aren’t you supposed to be good at that?”, she sighed. “He’s come into this position only recently, following after one of his church’s more popular leaders. He failed to make a name for himself during the Orkenstorm, he still lacks any actual political power… his marriage to the young Margravine of Griffinsford is openly unhappy and he has yet to spend even a single night with his bride. All of that has to gnaw at him, so everything he’s trying to do is his attempt at proving his worth. His big talks about invading the Orkland, his desperate attempt to find traitors even here at the Rhodestone… you may think he has you backed into a corner, but don’t presume his own position is any better”

Edmond genuinely hadn’t seen it from this angle, but it made sense. Dragosh was powerful as a king, but his rule was by no means absolute. He needed success, both here and in the war he was pushing for and he had little room for failure in the eyes of his council, of Walmir and the other Masters of the Dominions who held the actual worldly power of the church in their grasp. All his sway over them only held for as long as they had faith in him as a leader and after what Walmir of Styring had just said, there were clear cracks already. Though the Sword of Swords seemed confident, Edmond knew how stressful such a position had to be. He would make a mistake sooner or later, perhaps he even already had.

“We… we may have one last hope”, Edmond revealed. Though he had never been fond of Braken’s plans, perhaps following it would cause enough chaos within the church for them to slip away unnoticed. After all, they had what they had come for, confirmation of Braken’s fate. There was no need to linger so close to one of their most dangerous enemies. “Though it’s a bit of a long shot”, he added truthfully. “We found a secret passage to Lord Viburn’s tomb in the forest. We believe Braken was trying to conjure his spirit there, though for what end I do not know”

“Braken?”, Alicent asked and while Edmond kept his voice low as they walked through the nightly halls of the Rhodestone, she barely managed to do the same, her tone shaky with excitement. “You found the master? Where… where is he? Why isn’t he with you?” Her eyes widened as she looked at Edmond, scanning him for any sign of what had happened to her mentor. It reminded him of himself from a few years ago, back when Sulman and Urdo had told him about Liscom’s fate. Fleeting hope paired with a grim certainty. He hadn’t taken it well back then and there was no reason to presume that it would be any different for Alicent. She clearly idolized Braken as he had idolized Liscom. Deep down, a worse thought grew, namely that just like him, she hadn’t seen her mentor’s darker side.

“We need to find Lord Viburn’s sword”, Edmond stated, trying to change the topic. “It wasn’t in his tomb, but we believe it might be important for…” This time, the girl cut him off. “His sword, yes”, she spoke, her voice now oozing with impatience. “Perhaps I can help with that, there are a few rumours going around in the castle. But, could you please answer my question? You have found out about Braken’s plans, but… have you found him? Is he… is he alive?” Her voice nearly broke as she spoke these words. Edmond knew for certain she wouldn’t take this well. He needed her for this, if there was any chance to succeed where Braken failed and to get out of the Rhodestone alive, then he needed Alicent’s help, she had to keep it together just until they were finished here. And yet, he knew how this felt. Sulman had been honest with him right away and the two had remained friends to this day. Had he tried to hide the truth, however, even for a little while… Edmond was not certain he would have ever forgiven him.

[Tell her the truth about Braken]

[Tell her that you haven’t found him] Come on guys, lying never hurt us before. Besides, if we tell her, she's going to cry and draw suspicion.

It's interesting to hear these thoughts when we've already had two of our other POVs encounter and speak with ghosts.

Yeah, after there have been several ghosts appearing in the story already, I thought to myself that perhaps I should clarify just how exactly they work in the setting. Edmond is the right PoV to properly tie it into the story without coming off as a clumsy exposition drop, as neither Yveshin nor Kobold are learned enough to know more about it (or, in the case of Kobold, don't even give a damn about the specifics). They're a rather important part of the setting and will feature extensively in the chapters to come, so some exposition might be necessary here ^^

At the first light of dawn, when the early sunrise just barely touched the freshly fallen snow, Broonsgorge had an innocence to it in spite of the blood that had been shed last night. Iiro had spent a few hours in the small chamber Terkol of Beechmire had granted him in the local inn, but he had found no sleep, not after what had happened, not after what he had learned. Instead, he crawled out of his bed just as the sun rose and without even taking in a humble meal, he stepped outside for some fresh air.

It was a sunny day, but even colder than before and now, not even the thick overcoat Duke Waldemar had given him helped with keeping out this chill. This was beyond a mere winter. There was a darkness in the Meadows, a nightmare that never ended, ever since Liscom the Fasarian had torn a hole into this world last summer. Back then, they had prevented the worst, but that didn’t mean that all was good. The world had been broken on that day and something within Iiro had been broken with it.

To his surprise, he was not alone out there. The people of Broonsgorge remained in their homes, huddled around their fires, wrapped in whatever fur they could afford. But elves felt neither the pressing heat of summer nor the biting chill of winter and Thea was no exception. She stood on the edge of the cliff, staring down the stairs and smaller platforms beneath her, where the village of Broonsgorge descended down the side of the cliff and towards the Broonswater. The cloak was blowing in the wind as she glanced over her shoulder, a haunting, bittersweet expression on her face.

“Good morning, Iiro”, she spoke and the sellsword gave her a nod. “Good morning, mylady”, he replied. “You’re up early… though I suppose you haven’t gotten much sleep either, huh?” Thea smiled at him, though the cold, regretful look in her eyes remained. “Indeed I have not, my friend”, she confirmed. “No one else was supposed to be up this early”

It was only in this moment that Iiro realized something odd about her presence here. It was less Thea’s presence that had thrown him off, but her attire. The elf was clad in her travelling furs already, with a satchel flung over her shoulders and a walking stick in one hand. “We’re not going to head out until noon”, he stated. “Sir Maximus wishes to speak to the bandit baron first and perhaps to the vampire as well”

Thea grimaced at these words. “The abomination”, she hissed, as she briefly bared her fangs in anger. “It is good she won’t come with you, but even keeping her alive will put others at risk. A swift death would have been a kindness” Iiro knew her stance on the topic and though he didn’t quite agree, he knew she had reasons for such a severe statement. And yet, there was something else, something unspoken. “You shouldn’t be out this early either”, he mumbled. “And yet you’re here, dressed to leave”

Now, the elf’s attention wavered, her gaze briefly wandering off somewhere behind him. “I had a conversation last night”, she sighed and as Iiro followed her gaze, he froze in sudden surprise. There, right next to the inn, only half-hidden in the last shadows that were swept away by the growing dawn stood a figure, easily as tall and lean as Thea, similarly wrapped in well-tailored furs, all in white. The stranger had made no sound and uneasiness grew within Iiro as he realized that he must have walked right past him as he had left the inn.

“Who…”, he began, as the stranger took a step out of the shadows. Sunlight illuminated his face beneath the odd and Iiro realized at once that this was an elf, sporting the unmistakably sculpted features of his race, the high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes. Though his ears were hidden beneath a hood, Iiro didn’t have to see them to confirm his suspicion. He had seen a couple of elves before, most of them Lea Elves from the forests and meadows of the Middenrealm, though he was immediately certain that this one had come from farther away. His attire and the way he walked across the snow without leaving a trail all pointed towards the Rime Elves of the northern wastes. And yet, where Thea was pale as snow, this elf had a prominent olive tan, just like Yveshin.

The elf spoke something in his melodic chant of a language and while the words sounded pleasant, the look on his face was anything but. The Lea Elves of the Middenrealm were a diverse bunch, most of them odd, but well-meaning, while others had accustomed to living among humans to such a degree that their behaviour barely differed from that of their short-lived neighbours. When it came to Rime Elves, Iiro had heard many stories of their aloof nature and their hostility towards strangers, though neither Thea nor Yveshin were anything like that stereotype. This elf however… it was the first time that Iiro saw hostility in the hauntingly beautiful green-golden eyes of an elf.

Thea replied something, notably calmer and after a moment, the elf gave her a nod, not looking away from Iiro the entire time. “You, go back into the house”, he hissed, his Garetian shaky and untrained. “She comes with me” Still he approached Iiro and his feet barely seemed to touch the snow. Again Thea said something and the elf narrowed his eyes. “Say your farewells”, he replied. “But do not stop her. Thea is needed with her people”

“You’re leaving us...”, Iiro realized, turning back to Thea with wide eyes. The elf woman gave him a regretful nod. “I have to”, she mumbled. “I was hoping to just slip away, but... you are a friend. Perhaps it is better if you know what is going on. If you understand why I need to leave” She glanced at the elf. “This man has been stalking us for a few days now. Even I haven’t been aware of his presence until last night, when he revealed himself and spoke to me. Iiro, may I introduce Eltharion of the Lightbringer tribe”, she introduced him and though Iiro had never seen this elf before, he recognized the tribe at least. “That’s Yveshin’s tribe, isn’t it?”, he spoke.

“You know Yveshin?”, the elf, Eltharion, growled. His voice was calmer now, but his body language remained that of a wolf ready to pounce at its prey. Reluctantly, Iiro gave him a nod. “He is my friend”, he clarified. “We’ve fought side by side in Drakesfield, just last summer” Now, Eltharion’s expression hardened again. “Then you have faced varra dioy”, he replied. “Part of you has never left that place, where his servant broke the world. Part of you never will”

“Your battle has ended on that day, but Yveshin’s has just begun”, Thea explained. “Shortly after our group parted ways, he left with Naeem. Back then I did not understand, but Eltharion has shared with me the wisdom of his elders and now… how do you say… I’m starting to see the bigger picture. Something has marked Yveshin on that day when he has struck down the mage and… delayed his ritual”

“Delayed?”, Iiro asked. “But we stopped it, didn’t we? We killed Liscom, we…” He paused, as a grim certainty grew within him. Truth be told, he had felt it for a while. His smile seemed thinner these days and he was starting to see dangers within every strange shadow. “Liscom tore a hole into this world…”, he mumbled. “And something slipped through it”

“Someone”, Thea confirmed. “My people know him as varra dioy, the opener of the last gate, but he has been known by many names before that, by elves and dwarves, by lizards, several times by humans and by older races, many forgotten even to the legends of my people. You should be familiar with one of those names, for it is Borbarad”

“Borbarad!”, Iiro gasped. A chill ran down his spine as he heard his name and though Thea had been whispering, he could swear that there was a slight echo to this word, that something was whispering it back just from beyond the gorge. Thea gave him a calm nod. “He is weak, for now”, she revealed. “Nothing more than a whisper in the wind, an unseen presence, a certainty in enlightened minds. But his full return is only a matter of time” Her expression darkened as she glanced over her shoulder towards the cliff. “Forgive me for burdening you with this knowledge”, she sighed. “My kind has known for a while now, a growing suspicion that has turned into grim confidence over the last few weeks. But you… you should have been able to live out the years to come in relative peace”

Peace… Iiro closed his eyes and winced as once again, he saw the grey wasteland of Drakesfield. Trees, buildings, people, all crumbled into the dust he had walked on on that day. The survivors, safe for a lucky few, doomed to a cruelly few remaining years. There was no peace within him since that day, no true peace at least. And now at least he knew why. There was a debt yet unpaid. There would be a reckoning.

“And what is Yveshin’s role in this?”, he asked. “Why is his tribesman here with you?” His voice was calm, but beneath it, he was suppressing an angry growl, which the elf clearly picked up on. “It seems you too carry the marks of that day with you, my friend…”, she mumbled. “But Yveshin has been marked in a different way when he struck down the mad mage. Something… chose him on that day. Changed him in ways I do not yet understand. I don’t even know if this is a good thing or an ill one, but I know that for the better or the worse, Yveshin will be at the centre of things to come”

“Is that why he left?”, Iiro asked and he immediately regretted his sharp tone, for it was clearly a sore spot for Thea. Her expression dropped, if briefly. “I did not understand back then”, she admitted. “Age hardly matters for my people, but I admit I have lived for far longer than many of my kind and yet… yet still I have failed to see how he struggled. Naeem... he understood. He urged him to leave on his own and though I have resented the druid for a while, I understand his reasons now, after my talk to Eltharion”

Iiro glanced at the grim-faced Rime Elf, who looked back right at him. There was still hostility within his gaze, more than what he would have expected from one of Yveshin’s tribesmen. “Yveshin is in danger”, he then revealed. “He was hidden for a while, even for the great seers among my tribe, but now he has revealed himself”

“And a darker presence took note of him as well…”, Thea mumbled. “I already feared as much when the creature spoke to us last night. Eltharion confirmed my worst fears… The queen of the shakagra is in these lands and that is a dreadful occasion for she has not left her frozen homeland in thousands of years. Last she walked on this soil, my fenvar ancestors still had their mighty empire and their cities of gold and silver. Back then, she only left after she had ruined them all, destroying them until nothing remained of the high elves. They have been powerful beyond imagination, whereas you…” Her smile was thin and not the slightest bit genuine now, if at least a slight bit apologetic. “You are only humans”, she added. “You cannot hope to overcome her”

Eltharion spoke something in his own tongue and Thea narrowed her eyes in anger. “They are nothing like her”, she hissed, notably speaking in a language Iiro could understand as well. The other elf looked Iiro straight in the eye. “I will repeat myself”, he growled. “Fear not Bhardona of the shakagra. She will not destroy you, for she is just like you. She is badoc” The word itself was a curse, Iiro could feel the contempt that oozed through it.

“Eltharion!”, Thea hissed again, but her outburst of anger was gone in an instant. “The shakagra queen... Bhar... Pardona as you would pronounce her... she is not your enemy to face. This has always been a burden of my people. But now she has left her homeland, now she is preying on your people and now… we fear she has set her sights on Yveshin. It is why I must leave with Eltharion, for he and his hunters know where to find him”

“And you think we cannot help him?”, Iiro asked, to which Thea immediately shook her head. “You misunderstand, my friend”, she claimed. “You’re doing your part and if my suspicions are right, then what you do here and elsewhere in this land will disrupt the queen’s plans in some capacity. But no human should face her, for she…”

“She corrupts weaker minds”, Eltharion interjected. “You have a weak mind, human. All of you have” Though his tone remained hostile, his words were clearly not meant as an insult and Iiro remained calm. On top of that, he had seen elves in combat and he felt by no means ready to pick a fight with one of them. “Unfortunately, he is right”, Thea admitted. “Pardona is a shapeshifter and spellcaster beyond compare, but her most powerful weapon is her ability to tempt the minds and bodies of her enemies, to twist them to her desire. My people know countless tales of great heroes who faced her in her fortress only to be corrupted, turned against our people as her loyal puppets. Facing her is a danger I would not wish on any of you” A hesitant, sheepish smile flashed across her face, a stunning contrast to her usual aloof expression. “Not even Vittorio”

Despite the grim situation, this comment made Iiro chuckle. “Was that a joke, mylady?”, he asked and she shrugged. “I may have learned a thing or two among your kind, human”, she admitted, though the lightness was gone from her eyes in an instant. “I wasn’t planning on telling you this, but out of my human companions, you have proven yourself the most reliable. You at least should know of Pardona Who-Poisons-The-World, of her presence here in the Meadows and of the threat she poses to all of us. But the rest… they must not know. They would seek to fight her with pure intentions, but she is too strong for any ordinary human. None of them stand a chance”

“You want me to hide this from them?”, Iiro asked, to which Thea replied with a nonchalant nod. “You already know how dangerous she can be”, she spoke. “If knowledge of her presence spreads, of who serves her and what she seeks to do in these lands, then it will only make it harder for me to hide the traces of my people. There will be a panic and even more violence” She paused and her expression mellowed briefly. “I trust you, but that’s it. Vittorio talks too much and I hardly know the rest of them”, she added. “Please… until I had the chance to deal with this quietly, keep everything that concerns Pardona a secret from them, for me” Iiro frowned, but he gave her a hesitant nod. “I will think about it”, he stated. “But I can’t make any promises”

Once again, Eltharion spoke something in his own language, a few brief words that sounded more like a song. Thea gave him a nod. “We need to leave”, she spoke. “Eltharion is right, human company would only slow us down. We need to catch up to the rest of his group and then we need to find Yveshin” Eltharion straightened his back, still carefully eyeing Iiro, but his expression grew marginally softer. “I can see Yveshin is a friend to you”, he spoke, to which Iiro gave him a nod without hesitation. “I consider him a friend too. All of my group know him, we are his friends, his family. We will find him and he will be protected from Bhardona and her shakagra”

“I… understand”, Iiro confirmed. “Thank you” He turned back to Thea, who had now fully turned towards the two of them. “This is farewell then?” It was more a question than a statement, with the clear, underlying hope that maybe this wouldn’t be it. Thea had kept her distance from him, from the rest of the group, but she had grown into a valued companion nonetheless and he would miss her.

“For now”, she replied. “I know little of what the future holds. Maybe you and I will meet again” She walked past him, offering neither handshake nor hug. Even though this was as close to a tearful goodbye as it could get with her, she still kept her distance. Eltharion turned away from Iiro, starting to walk down the road towards the Dragongap without looking back, but Thea stopped after a few feet.

“My people have long since been abandoned by our gods and we offer neither worship nor prayer, but you…”, she mumbled. “Seeing you and the others, seeing what you have achieved… maybe your gods haven’t turned their backs on your kind yet” Those were her final words to him, as she turned away, leaving Iiro alone on this cold morning. He looked after her and Eltharion, as the two elves walked across the snow, swift and unburdened. Within a minute, they were out of sight.

Watching the sunrise, Iiro remained outside for a little while longer, though he eventually found his way back into the inn, frozen to the bone, shivering not just from the cold. Vittorio and Joanna were sitting together, an odd pair at breakfast in an otherwise empty taproom. The latter smiled at him and pulled a chair back for him, while the former pushed a plate towards him, two slices of bread and a dry sausage on it.

“Why, good morning to you, my friend!”, the mage intoned, as Iiro sank onto the chair. “Isn’t it a bit too cold to go out for a walk?” Iiro replied only with a grunt as he sank down onto the chair. Quietly, he reached for the sausage and took a hefty bite out of it, while Vittorio continued, entirely unbothered by his silence. “See, I just had the most splendid talk with Joanna here”, he began. “She had a marvellous idea and, considering we all survive this, I think it could be a good idea to invest a fashionable sum into…”

“Mage…”, Joanna whispered and to Iiro’s mild surprise, this one word was enough to cut Vittorio off. “Is everything alright, Iiro?” He shook his head, barely so. “Thea left”, he revealed. “It’s about Yveshin… he’s in danger” This was enough for Vittorio’s casual smile to fade entirely. “Where is he?”, he asked, his tone unusually serious. Iiro shrugged. “Thea wouldn’t tell”, he sighed. “Perhaps she was afraid we’d try to follow her. But there was another elf with her, a friend of Yveshin… at least that’s what he claims to be. They were heading west, through the Dragongap”

“Most of Meadows is beyond the Dragongap”, Joanna replied. “And trying to follow an elf through that weather… not to sound bleak, but that’s hopeless” Iiro gave her a nod. “I’m not going to follow her, if that’s what you’re concerned about”, he assured her. “I am worried for her and for Yveshin as well, but I still have a sense of duty”

“Good”, Joanna stated. “I can only imagine the bonds between you after what you’ve been through in Drakesfield, but don’t forget that you’re working for the duke now. What Thea did is technically desertion, but she’s an elf, so I doubt even Maximus will press the issue” Iiro gave her a nod, firm and a slight bit hasty this time. “You don’t have to worry about me”, he growled. “It’s not as if I could help them by blindly chasing after them”

“Still, this is concerning”, Vittorio replied, before taking a deep gulp from his mug. Iiro recognized the sickly sweet smell of honeyed Almadanian tea, Vittorio’s favourite and a brew he himself had tasted quite often during the last months of their travels together. It wasn’t half bad with a dash of Sveltish schnapps, but downright disgusting without it and Iiro was not in the mood for booze now that they were about to leave Broonsgorge.

“Thea might have been a bit odd, but all things considered she was a reliable ally”, the mage continued. “Not the type to leave without reason. I mean, Yveshin is the best shot I’ve ever seen and with the snow all around, he should feel right at home. What could be so dangerous that she needs to leave us… I mean, we’ve faced two vampires yesterday. There’s not much in the world that is more dangerous than those”

Iiro barely managed to hide a grimace. Thea’s request still stung deep. Unlike her, he was willing to trust Vittorio and he had warmed up to his new companions as well. Joanna was one of the most reliable women he had ever met and Maximus was a man of honour and integrity. True, he barely knew Nadim, but his brother had been with them in Drakesfield. Surely they deserved some trust and yet… didn’t Thea deserve the same? She had come to the conclusion that this knowledge was too dangerous for them.

Before he could come to a decision, the door that led to the bandit baron’s private back room got pushed open. Terkol of Beechmire himself walked out, holding the door open for Maximus and Nadim. Where the knight was grim as usual, Terkol seemed jolly, a pleased smile on his fleshy face. “It seems I owe you all my gratitude!”, he exclaimed as he spotted the trio at the table. “You’ve been here for a day and yet you managed to solve an issue even my best men despaired over”

“It wasn’t all that hard, Baron Terkol”, Vittorio replied, his tone as cheeky as Terkol’s expression. “Perhaps it’s less that we succeeded at an impossible task and more that your men failed a very simple one” The bandit baron kept his smile and his good mood seemed genuine. “I will ignore that slight, Master Crawford”, he admitted. “Though I’d advise you to keep silent about such matters, for her I stand willing to reward you”

“We don’t need your coin, bandit”, Maximus growled behind him and now, Terkol’s smile faded for a second, before returning in full force, twice as bright as before. “Then I shall keep it, Ser Maximus”, he stated. “But will you accept my gratitude and whatever aid I can offer for your mission?” To this, the knight gave him a nod. “I shall”, he confirmed. “But before you get your hopes up, I cannot in good faith endorse your rule to the duke, if this is what you’re hoping for”

Terkol shook his head. “I can live with that, Ser”, he sighed. “Though your endorsement would mean a lot, I hope that Duke Waldemar can see the value of my offer. I ask for nothing more than that you deliver my terms to him with no judgement on your part. Let the old bear make his own decisions” By now, they had reached the table and Iiro, having just swallowed the last of the bread, gave Terkol a curious look. “And if he decides that you’re still more trouble than you’re worth?”, he asked.

“Then things shall continue as they do right now”, Terkol told them. “I wish to be legitimized as the Baron of Easterley, I offer my oaths of fealty and what little value this land can offer for the Duke of Meadows. If he accepts, he’ll gain an impoverished barony and a loyal vassal who knows this land and its people. If he refuses, he’ll gain nothing but a continued thorn in his side. The right choice should be obvious”

It wasn’t this obvious though, at least as far as Iiro was concerned. Terkol of Beechmire was an upstart bandit and all his honeyed words and seemingly good intentions merely hid the fact that he had been willing to rob from the Church of Travia on their way here. The way he had threatened them back then made it clear that he had been comfortable with violence, even though they had Mother Linai with them. Iiro had worked with cutthroats, he considered himself one of them on bad days and he knew that such men were not suited to rule over a barony. The decision was Waldemar’s to make, but if it were up to him, Terkol would never gain the legitimacy he so craved for. Similar to a pact with an archdemon, the offer was simply not worth it. And yet, he kept quiet about this. There was no need to get on Terkol’s bad side either, not when they were about to part on questionably good terms. The bandit baron’s good mood was genuine at least. “I can do that”, Maximus agreed. “I will deliver your terms, but expect nothing else from me”

“Oh, but I do expect one more thing”, Terkol stated. “You have done Easterley a great favour. I know you haven’t done it for me, but you have aided me nonetheless. My wish is that you find whomever is behind this and bring them to justice” His smile reappeared on his face, thinner now, but still genuine. “Can you do that for me, Ser?” Maximus frowned and gave him no immediate answer, leading Terkol to continue on his own. “I have heard your request, Nadim Umer”, he added. “And I grant it. You may accompany these fine people if that is your desire”

A smile of relief flashed over Nadim’s face, though he immediately composed himself and even managed to salute in front of Maximus. “If… if you’ll have me, Ser”, he spoke. Maximus thought about it for a moment, before he gave him a nod. “You have earned a chance, Umer”, he growled. “Don’t squander it. You may accompany us, but I will keep an eye on you”

It was only now that he glanced around, his expression hardening. “Where is Lady Thea?”, he then asked. “I wish to leave this village before noon. It’ll be a week’s ride until we reach Menzhome and I expect no further delay from any of you” In contrast to Terkol’s jolly demeanour, Maximus was clearly in a grim mood and Iiro knew he would only add to them with his information. “She left”, he spoke, uttering these words in an instant, just to get it over with. “Left?” Maximus growled. “She… is not coming back, isn’t she? Twelve have mercy, what madness has taken the elf?”

“She needed to protect Yveshin, Ser”, Joanna replied and Iiro was grateful for her intervention. “You know, the other elf from the Drakesfield incident, he…” Maximus cut her off with an impatient nod. “I am familiar with his name, yes”, he clarified. “Had it been any of you, I would have been livid. Now… I won’t say I am not disappointed, but Thea is the only one here who is not bound to Duke Waldemar by oath and loyalty. But pray tell, Redal, what caused her to leave us so suddenly?

Iiro knew this question would come. Thea’s request was a difficult one, for unlike her, he had nothing but trust for Maximus. The knight could keep a secret and even though telling him felt like betraying Thea’s trust, didn’t he deserve to know? If this ominous queen, this temptress, Pardona as Thea had called her, was a threat to them, didn’t they all deserve to know? His gaze fell upon Terkol of Beechmire, who was standing behind the knight, clearly listening to their conversation. Out of them all, he was the only man whom Iiro had not even an ounce of trust for. Perhaps he could at least delay this conversation until the bandit baron was gone and yet… he remained uncertain if he should tell them at all. If Thea was right, this was not their fight. If she was right, it would only further darken their mood, it would only worry them when they had to be focussed on the task at hand, on the vampires and on the ominous happenings in Menzhome.

[Keep the secret, as Thea requested]

Let's honor Thea's request.

Caught up with the Dark Eye as well!

[Keep it a secret only until Terkol is gone] I trust Thea and I'm confident she is right about Iiro and the companions, or most of the other known characters for that matter, not being even close to Pardona's power right now. But they deserve to know, and I think Maximus is smart enough to realize they can't do anything rush. But Baron Terkol definitely does not need to know.

[Keep the secret, as Thea requested]

Honestly, this one was a tough choice. I was going back and forth on this one. I just don't want them to go after her before they are ready. Thea also made a good point saying that their objectives will most likely interfere with and hinder Pardona's plans. It's still possible that Iiro will eventually tell them the full truth in the future. 

Welcome back to the Dark Eye as well, I am glad to hear this!



Indeed, among the currently introduced characters there's probably none who know as much about Pardona as Thea, whose people have dedicated their entire lives to fight against the Night Elves. So, she probably really has a point about the group's chances against Pardona, but that doesn't mean she's right in assuming how they will react. After all, she doesn't even know half of the group that well, so perhaps you're right in trusting them (and you're probably definitely right in not trusting Terkol of Beechmire XD)

Indeed, if he keeps the secret here it doesn't mean that he will have to remain silent forever and there will definitely be later chances to reveal the truth to his group. The main difference is that the farther they all get entangled in Pardona's schemes for the Meadows, the harder it can get for him to explain to the group why he remained silent for so long.

To Kobold’s surprise, Agatha listened carefully. Few Praiots did, they were mostly excellent at jumping to conclusions. This woman, however, just looked at him calmly, not interrupting him even once, as he told her of the events that had led him to Baliho and what had transpired in the city, of Elbaran and his victims, of Nadarie and of his suspicions against Ulgraine of Mersley-Boarstribe. As he spoke of the latter, Agatha briefly narrowed her eyes, perhaps out of reflex, for he was still a lowly goblin who had just spoken ill of a baron’s daughter. But still she did not interrupt him.

“This is all then?”, she asked only after he was finished. He gave her a nod and she was quiet for another minute, without taking her piercing gaze off him. “I have dedicated my life to the truth. Not spreading it as some of my fellow faithful do, but protecting it. Preventing weaker minds from abusing it”, she admitted after a moment and her tone was so utterly inscrutable that Kobold could not even begin to guess her intentions. “What you just told me… I sense no lie within you and that’s what makes it so troubling. This is the most dangerous truth I have heard in a long time”

Kobold clenched one hand over his knee and though his leg was aching, he leant forwards, closer towards the woman, while giving her a similarly calm, but intense glare. “The question is, what are you going to do about it, Agatha?”, he asked. It was a bold question and enough to actually make her grin for a second, which took away a lot of the intensity from her expression. “There are some who would make sure this particular truth will never be spread again”, she admitted. “But you knew that already even before you opened your mouth. It makes me wonder, are you bold or merely very, very good at reading people?” Kobold allowed himself a toothy smile. “I’d like to believe it’s a little bit of both”, he replied. “Though, to remain truthful, part of me is terrified of you”

Agatha chuckled. “Smart”, she merely replied. “But I don’t believe in punishing the truthful. Those who would abuse this truth to spread fear and disorder in these lands, they will feel my wrath, but you have approached me in private. That should be worth some praise” She shook her head. “No, Kobold, I will not punish you for telling me this”, she promised. “In fact, I will share a truth of my own with you, though one you might suspect already. I not only believe your outlandish tale, but I can confirm it through my own experiences”

“So, this Curunir fellow is actually a vampire, yes?”, Kobold deduced and she gave him a slight nod. “Though comparing him to that serial killer you fought in Baliho would be akin to comparing a mighty warrior to a newborn babe”, the priestess clarified. “Curunir has been turned into a vampire way over a century ago and even before that, he already had foul arcane powers. By all accounts, he has used his immortality to hone his skills beyond those of a mortal mage”

“Means he’s bloody dangerous…”, Kobold growled, which she confirmed with another nod. “I have hunted him for many years now. From what I can reconstruct, he has spent a decade in hiding, somewhere beneath Festum, but not long ago, something had caused him to abandon his safe hiding place”, she explained. “We caught up to his trail shortly afterwards and have hunted him down ever since. His trail leads to the south-west”

Though Kobold was certain she still kept the juiciest bits of truth for herself, this talk was the most cordial he had ever been with a Praiot. “Do you think he is connected to the vampires I met in Baliho?”, he asked, to which Agatha gave him a firm and immediate nod. “Contrary to what you might believe after your experience, vampires are exceptionally rare. Though the elders of their kind are among the most terrifying creatures in this world, freshly turned vampires are pitiful and weak and few survive their first month. Fewer yet manage to avoid detection for more than a year and even fewer ever share their dark curse. Their numbers in all Aventuria up until this winter have probably been in the double digits at most. It is in their own best interest that it remains that way, because too many vampires attract attention from those who can destroy them”

“Then why are there so damn many of them now?”, Kobold asked, to which Agatha shrugged. “I can faithfully say that I have no bloody idea”, she replied in a candid tone. “But I am certain that it is connected to Curunir’s hasty escape from the Bornland. If we’re fortunate, he himself is the mastermind behind this, that this is nothing more than his futile hope to distract us while he hides his trail. If we’re not, then he is but another pawn and it terrifies me to think that there is a being in this peaceful land that can command a vampire of Curunir’s might”

Kobold sighed, but his skin was itching as she spoke. He was nervous, no point in denying it to himself. “So, what do you suggest?”, he asked. “I cannot just turn away now, can I?” Agatha gave him an encouraging smile. “Not even for your own good?”, she asked. “You strike me as a man who always knew when to avoid danger” This got a smirk out of him, but it faded almost immediately. “Well, I thought so myself”, he admitted. “But see the grey in my fur? You humans have it good, growing old slowly and with dignity, first grey, then white. The gods have been less kind to my people and the moment we first spot grey in our fur, we know we live on borrowed time. I don’t know how many years I have left within me. Five, maybe ten, but I know for a fact I won’t live to the age of sixty” He leant closer, his eyes narrowed and his expression stern. “I am a scoundrel and I have done worse than turning my back on those in need to save my own hide”, he hissed. “But I have principles and I am too old to break them now”

They were both silent after this, with Agatha just quietly scanning him, watching his every move, even the shifts in his expression. That’s what he hated the most about Praiots. His greatest strength was that he knew how to read people, but with Agatha and her kind, it was not just impossible to do so, but in return, they were even better at it than he himself could ever be. Most humans were faster, stronger, more resilient than him, but only the Praiots could take away the one advantage he always had.

“So…”, he mumbled. “What are my options then?” He was the first to break the silence and he hated it, but there was no point trying to beat a Praiot at her own game. Agatha shrugged. “My strong advice would be to return to the Bornland”, she admitted. “But failing that, I will not stop you from investigating further. You already know what is going on in this land and so far, your findings have only helped me. As long as you don’t put yourself in harm’s way, you may continue your way to Menzhome in the morning”

Kobold gave her a nod. “And you?”, he asked. “I could use your aid. Any aid you can offer” It was a futile request and he knew it even before he spoke those words, but it was at the very least worth a try. Agatha was at least respectful enough not to laugh. “I said I will not trouble your investigation and yet you wish for more!”, she exclaimed. “The light provides what is needed. No more and no less. In your case, I believe you are crafty enough to get by. Anything I could give you will only further encourage you to get deeper into this darkness that has engulfed the Meadows”

“So… nothing?”, Kobold asked and this time, she shook her head. “Not nothing”, she clarified. “I believe our paths can align for a little while. Your goal is Menzhome and my next stop won’t be too far away from there. We may travel together to the south for a few days and I can make sure that nobody will dare stop your carriage. Any aid beyond that depends on your own findings first”

As she spoke, she extended a hand towards him. “You are hesitating?”, she asked. “This is my offer, the first and the last. What do you say?” Kobold sighed. “I have been hoping for a little more… tangible aid”, he admitted, before quickly grabbing her hand. She did not flinch as his claws dug into her surprisingly rough skin. “Aye”, he agreed. “Looks like we have ourselves a deal”

The next three days on the road went by quickly. They left Oldnorthing after one decent night at the local inn and continued their way south, across the Imperial Road, but not before Agatha made sure that the old goblin down in the prison would be released without further harm. Kobold had insisted on it and he was not willing to bet that she would have done so without him.

Now flanked by three mounted Praiots on each side, their ride became equal parts easier and more tiresome. Agatha demanded a quick pace, so much in fact that Relin and Darbrek had to take turns with driving the carriage. Inside of the carriage, there was a relative comfort, but even then Kobold and his companions had to wrap themselves in blankets to remain warm. Cilie was visibly shivering even then, but the girl did not complain even once and that earned her Kobold’s begrudging respect.

The Praiots barely talked, even Agatha’s cheerful demeanour was notably subdued and the priestess stuck to her own people during the few hours of rest they got each night. The six of them ate their own meals and made their own campsite, close but decidedly separate from the carriage, where Kobold and his companions were sleeping. But with them around, nobody dared to stop them, be it the occasional patrol of ducal soldiers or the Banray, who were surprisingly numerous in this part of the world.

As such, they made good progress through the snow-covered land, past roadside inns and small hamlets, barely two hours passing without them spotting any sign of civilization. Unlike the villages one would find in the outer reaches of the duchy, many here lacked fortifications, even something as simple as walls, though Kobold regularly spotted watchtowers along the roadside, wooden at first, but they became sturdier the further south they got. Half a day before they reached Menzhome, the towers were made entirely of stone. The road led through a thick, dead forest for about two hours before finally opening up to the plains of Menzhome, with the city itself in its centre.

Located right at the Imperial Road between Warkhome and Baliho, it was the gateway into Meadows and every traveller that entered the duchy from the south would be wise to rest in one of its countless inns and taverns. Kobold himself had been there several times and until now, he had always enjoyed his stay, as much as any goblin could enjoy a stay in the Meadows. Menzhome used to be worldly and welcoming, at least by northern standards, its people having been spared the horrors of the Orkenstorm, with stranger visitors from southern lands not unheard of. To the east, Kobold could see huge holes in the ground, the famous clay pits that gave the city its wealth. Right now however, Kobold recognized little of the wealthy, worldly city he had been to before.

Right now, however, there was a palpable gloom hanging over the entire city. Even for the typically dready Meadows during the winter months, Menzhome was a grim sight. Though not even noon, the sun was already setting, with clouds covering the sky, dousing the entire area in a grey twilight. The Imperial Road, pride and treasure of the lords fortunate enough to own property near it, was covered in snow and ice, making it hard for southern merchants to make the way north to Baliho and making it even harder for locals to sell their goods in the fortress city of Warkhome a day’s ride to the south.

The baron’s attention was clearly elsewhere, for just before the road forked, with one road leading further towards Menzhome and the other leading west, to Montclair Hall and the County of Herostand, Kobold and his small caravan of companions stumbled upon a grim sight. The forest here would be light even in summer and now it was dead and silent. There, on two trees right next to each other, hung several corpses, frozen solid and dangling in the wind. “Sentenced for crimes of thievery, vagrancy and… conspiracy?”, Kobold mumbled, as he read the sign someone had nailed to the tree next to the corpses. “I didn’t know vagrancy was punishable by death in this part of the land”

“It isn’t”, Agatha clarified. Her tone was calm, but Kobold could see a fire within her gaze. “The other two might be, depending on the severity of the case, but local laws are strict when it comes to corporal punishment. For their first offence, thieves are supposed lose a hand instead of their lives”, she continued. “Yet none of these men have lost theirs. Furthermore, I haven’t heard of a conspiracy charge since the end of Answin’s War, three years ago. I’d investigate what lead to such an unusual charge if not for my holy hunt”

“Which I am not bound to”, Kobold mumbled, having correctly spotted the hint of relief on Agatha’s face. “Looks like you made the right choice in Oldnorthing” The priestess gave him a firm nod. “It looks like it”, she confirmed. “You can investigate this lead while my own hunt forces me westwards. If I am correct, then the happenings here in Menzhome are merely a distraction, but one that needs to be contained regardless”

She reached into her pocket and as she opened her palm again, Kobold spotted a brooch within it. “Menzhome has temples dedicated to Rondra, Firun and Peraine”, Agatha explained. “Show this token to one of their priests and they will know how to contact me, should you ever find yourself in need of my aid” As Kobold reached for the token, she grabbed his forearm and shot him a piercing glare, truly as he’d expect from a Praiot. “If there are darker forces at work here, I strongly urge you to seek me out”, she warned him. “You may have gotten lucky with one newborn vampire, but a more experienced foe would have torn you all apart. Only faith protects against their unholy resilience”

“And I don’t seem like a faithful man, I get it”, Kobold growled, though he smirked as he grabbed the token. Agatha shook her head. “None of you give me that impression”, she clarified. “But in these dire times, piety must remain our shield” Kobold rolled his eyes. “Are you getting paid to say this?”, he asked, to which Agatha shot him a brief, but genuine smirk. “I would like to believe my god will take note of my fervour”, she admitted. “As for you, Kobold… take care. You have been a surprising asset and should you meet an untimely end, the church would be saddened”

“That’d be a first”, Kobold chuckled. “Take care too. You Praiots could do with more of your type. I mean… try not to burn anyone, alright?” Agatha shook her head. “I make no promises, Master Goblin”, she replied, as she and her companions separated from the carriage. Menzhome was now only a few hundred feet in front of them and the guards had taken note of them already, but at the same time, they had taken note of the half dozen Praiots that were now separating from them too.

“What’s the plan once we’re in there?”, Relin asked. He was the first to ask this question, with Abigale and Darbrek implicitly trusting him, while Eret would follow him regardless of the plan. “Glad someone’s finally asking”, Kobold replied. “First of all, you and Cilie will remain out of trouble. I’ve taken you with us because you deserve to be there when we find Dangig, but that doesn’t mean I’ll watch as you get yourself killed”

Relin opened his mouth to protest, but Cilie was quick to cut him off. “Of course, Kobold”, she replied, her smile bright and genuinely cheerful. “We won’t give you any trouble. Perhaps there’s something we can do without getting into danger?” Eret chuckled at her comment. “You could have stayed in Baliho”, he replied at once. “You know what we’re up against. Now that you’re here, none of us can guarantee for your safety”

Relin avoided his gaze, a hint of concern and even shame on his face. Even by goblin standards he would be young, but by human he was barely a grown man. Cilie meanwhile had a decade on him and her reaction was exactly as level-headed as Kobold had expected. “We will not cause any trouble”, she promised. “Perhaps we can help with your investigation here, but while you and the others actually make your move against these… beasts who took Dangig, we can remain behind. We can make sure the horses are looked after and the carriage is always ready if we need to make a quick getaway”

Kobold gave her a nod. “That’d be actually helpful, lass”, he admitted. “But Eret is right. Just by taking you here, we’ve put you in great danger. No matter what we’re going to find here in Menzhome, you follow my lead” With a crooked grin, he pointed one claw at his own chest. “Because as it turns out, I intend to survive just about any madness that is thrown at us”

By now, they had gotten close to the city gates. They stood open and the walls were manned, but Kobold and his companions were the only travellers actually heading towards the city. Somehow, the clouds right above Menzhome seemed even darker than the ones on the horizon, grey and heavy with even more snow. As the third-largest city in Meadows, after Baliho and Trallop, Menzhome was surrounded in its entirety by a sturdy stone wall, with one tower springing forth every fifty feet, watching over the surrounding plains and the forest to the north. The castle of the Baron of Menzhome was located within these walls too, well-fortified on a small hill, overlooking the entire city. It was large for the dwelling of a mere baron and though Meadows was a land of castles and fortresses, he had seen many that were less impressive.

“Halt!”, a guard called out for them as soon as they had reached the gate, but Darbrek had already slowed down the carriage almost to a standstill. Two guards approached them, one of them a sturdy woman with a scarred face and tufts of grey locks visible beneath her padded coif. The other was a slightly younger man, lean, with a crooked nose and even more crooked teeth. A notable gap was visible as he smiled, whereas his companion had not even a hint of a friendly expression for them.

“What leads you to Menzhome?”, she asked as she approached the window. After she threw one glance inside, especially as she spotted Kobold, her expression outright darkened. “Four humans, a dwarf and a goblin”, she added. “You lot look like trouble” His companion glanced through the other window and his tooth-gapped smile gained a slightly malicious streak, of the kind Kobold had been confronted with for all his life. “Damn, that’s an ugly one”, he chuckled. “Where did you get such fine clothes for that Redfur?”

Kobold shot him a brief, but severe glare. “Funny story”, he replied. “Actually, your mother gave…” He did not manage to finish these words, as Abigale lunged forward, pressing one hand against his mouth, heavily, accompanied by a mildly disappointed look. “Apologies, but we’re not here to cause trouble”, she replied. “We’re simple travellers from Baliho”

“Simple…”, the older woman replied, carefully eyeing the expensive carriage. “Nothing’s ever simple in these days. There’s a shadow over our city and it draws close fools and fiends. Which of those are you?” Abigale shook her head. “Neither”, she claimed. “We are private investigators from Baliho. There’s been a series of grim murders up there and we’re following a trail that lead us south. Things have been disturbing here in Menzhome as well, aren’t they?”

She didn’t need to be a clairvoyant to guess this. One look into the older guards eyes proved her right. There was the stubborn pride Kobold knew all too well from the Meadowsfolk, but she was clearly haunted as well. Deep, dark concern clouded her gaze. Even her younger companion seemed more nervous than deliberately malicious and like most humans in this part of the world he took it out on strangers. Nothing Kobold hadn’t experienced before, nothing he himself hadn’t been guilty of from time to time. “Disturbing, aye…”, the younger guard growled. “The baron’s become a wee bit bloodthirsty, is that disturbing enough for ya?”

“Oi!”, the older woman cut him off, her tone sharp and immediately aggravated, but both of their reactions told Kobold more than they ever intended. They were nervous about their baron, the very same man whose daughter Elbaran had fallen for. Yet another lead towards the castle, towards the ruler of this land. “We’ve noticed”, Kobold replied, pointing out of the carriage and down the road, where the trees hung with corpses.

“That’s…”, the woman began, sharply at first, before she cut herself off. After a moment of hesitation she continued, calmer now. “The baron’s a good man. Always has been. But those are dark times and he’s become more… irritable lately. A lot of people have gone missing in the area, his subjects, people he truly cares for. He’s under a lot of pressure”

“People go missing all over the Meadows”, Kobold told her. “We had some success in Baliho and we’d like to offer our help to their bereaved. Mabye we can find them” Now, the man spoke up again. “I know your kind”, he spat. “Seeking out grieving families, leeching off their sorrow, that’s the last we need. You’ve seen the gallows tree, so you know what the baron is doing to vagrants!”

“At ease!”, the woman barked. “It’s true that we had charlatans here in the city. They came to us, claiming they could help, some even claimed they knew what had happened to our people. But none of them delivered on their promises and after talking to each of them, the baron had them executed for trying to take advantage of his grieving subjects” She grimaced, as she followed Kobold’s gaze towards the dead forest. “Aye, some of them still hang there”, she admitted.

Kobold and Abigale exchanged a quick, concerned look and he knew she had come to the same conclusion. People went missing all over the barony and those who were trying to help were denounced as charlatans and liars and executed by the baron before they could present any of their findings. Perhaps the baron had a point, or perhaps he was just overly paranoid, but at the same time it was yet more reason never to seek an audience with him.

“So, if you’re like them, only out to cause more grief to suffering families, you best turn around right now”, the woman continued. “We don’t want that kind here. If you can actually help though… Twelve, things are bad. We’re not in any position to turn away legit aid. You may pass, as long as you respect our laws and our people. If you cause trouble, the baron will deal with you”

Kobold gulped as he saw the severe expression on her face. “Understood”, he mumbled. “We’d prefer not to deal with the baron directly… is there any place where we can learn more about the missing people?” The two guards exchanged a long, distrustful glare and Kobold could tell from their expressions how readily they’d hang him and all of his companions right next to those who came before them. But he knew a thing or two about people and he was certain they would not go that far without an outspoken order. They were desperate town guards, not hired psychopaths.

“A few of the families put up a board at the central square with information of their missing loved ones. They still hope that a traveller like you has seen them. After a while, the local temple of Peraine donated a second board”, the woman then replied. “It’s where you should head to as well if you want a bed and a meal and a place for your carriage”

With these words, both guards stepped aside, the woman grudgingly, her partner only with visible reluctance. Neither of these two wanted them here and Kobold couldn’t even blame them. He was used to being unwelcome, though he had experienced better things in Menzhome in the past and seeing the contrast was quite jarring. It wasn’t even his status as a goblin, for the people on the road could hardly see him within the carriage. No, judging by their looks as they passed through the gate and onto the wide main street of Menzhome, there was a general distrust towards them as newcomers. Women hurried away with their children, windows were slammed shut, men spat onto the road as the carriage drove past them.

Even though Menzhome was a city built for travellers, located on the northern reaches of the largest and most important road in Aventuria, not a single traveller crossed their path as the two horses Boswitz had given them pulled the carriage gently across the spacious main road. The buildings located on both sides of it were large and magnificent, built in the style typical for the cities of Darpatia to the south, with pointy roofs hidden entirely behind high, but comparably narrow frontsides, each painted in a different, bright colour. Anyone who had any wealth in Menzhome was living at or near the main street, with the smaller streets and alleyways behind them hiding crowded, tiny abodes reserved for the lesser citizens, the workers and their families.

That being said, Kobold was surprised by how many shops on the once-busy main street of Menzhome were closed, if only temporarily. Two thirds of every window they passed was dark, but though the buildings were quiet, Kobold had the notable impression that they were far from empty, that there were eyes watching them ever since they approached the city.

Though there were guards on the street, patrolling through the smaller alleyways and sometimes knocking against doors as if they wanted to make sure that there were still people living behind them. “What a depressing sight…”, Eret growled. “I never understood how you southern folk could dwell in these crowded cities, but somehow seeing them so quiet and empty is even worse”

“I’ll admit, this isn’t Menzhome at its best”, Kobold replied, as the street widened even further, opening into a square that could have been safely described as splendid on better days. Right now, the same gloom that hung over the entire city had gripped it, but even then it was home to the cities most important buildings aside from the castle itself. All three of its temples were there, side by side, with the temple of Rondra flanked by temples dedicated to Firun and Peraine. Surrounding them were the mansions of Menzhome’s municipal nobility and administrative buildings, as well as several upper-class taverns. Kobold had visited one of them in the past, the kind of place where even a goblin wasn’t turned away if he could pay the hefty price for one of their rooms and he very much preferred a costly, but quiet stay over whatever would await him in the lower inns and alehouses of this city.

In the very centre of Menzhome was a statue to its founder, Emperor Menzel the Good, likely built during his reign almost eight hundred years ago. The two boards the guard had mentioned were right in front of it and one look was enough to confirm that a third would soon be necessary. Each was almost as large as an average human man, yet they were overflowing with papers, small sheets of parchment that were nailed to the board. Someone had tried to create a semblance of order in how the parchments were nailed to the board, though it was still pure chaos. At the same time, he spotted a lone figure on the ground next to the boards, sitting on a blanket in front of Menzel’s statue. A thin smile found its way onto his face, as he realized that some things would remain familiar even in this darkness.

Darbrek stopped the carriage in front of a large, walled tavern, not the fanciest of its kind here at the square, but the only one with a set of stables able to fit the carriage and the two horses inside. A few patrons seemed to frequent the building even at this early hour and in these dire times and Kobold heavily doubted that they were the only travellers, but this was nothing compared to his last visit, when the locals had thrown a feast right here at the square, inviting every guest regardless of their race to join them.

“Alright, lads”, Kobold spoke up, as he climbed down the carriage. His leg was already aching and though he was looking forward for a warm bed and preferably a hot bath before, he knew fully well that there was immediate work to do before he could rest. “We’ll form groups of three for now. Cilie and Darbrek, you’ll head over to the tavern, see if you can get us a good deal on six rooms and enough space in the stables for the carriage and our horses. Take Eret with you, in case anyone gives you a hard time”

“What about you?”, the Nivesian asked. Though his crossbow wasn’t loaded, he still carried his sword with him, making him the only one among them who was visibly armed at the moment, with even Darbrek having placed his axe beneath the coachman’s seat. Kobold shrugged. “I’ll head over to the board”, he revealed. “Abigale and Relin will accompany me” He met Eret’s firm look with a mild glare, holding his gaze for a moment until the human looked away first. “I’ll be fine, boy”, he assured him. “If anything happens, I promise I’ll scream”

That was enough for Eret, who immediately turned to the tavern while mumbling something to himself. Cilie and Darbrek remained for a second longer, though at Kobold’s behest, they hurried after the Nivesian, leaving him with Abigale and Relin, as the three made their way to the board. “You want us to look through that?”, Abigale asked. She pointed at the overflowing board, a tone of disbelief in her voice and Kobold shot her a grin. “You’re the one who has read a book about vampires in one night, Abby”, he reminded her. “Consider this a… small exercise. See if there’s anything odd about those missing people” His own gaze fell onto the figure sitting in front of the statue. “As for me, I’ll go and have a nice chat with one of the few people who might still be speaking honestly with us in this city”

With these words, he limped towards the figure, clearly a beggar. It was a man, an older human, with wild, grey hair. Pieces of his swollen, red face were visible beneath the ragged shawl he was wearing, as much a hint at his fondness for alcohol as the open bottle next to him, from which Kobold still smelled the strong and unmistakable stench of cheap booze. There was a tin bowl in front of him and unless the crutches were just for show, something had to be seriously wrong with his legs.

“How’s it doing, my good man?”, Kobold greeted him. His palm opened, revealing a single silver coin just as the man looked up. If the beggar was unhappy to see a goblin in front of him, he was hiding it well and in his clouded gaze, Kobold spotted only a hint of surprise. “A goblin?”, he spoke up, his voice thin and hoarsy. “It’s been a while since I’ve last seen one of your kind” A smile formed on his face, wide and genuine, as he leant closer, pushing the tin bowl closer with his hand. It was empty aside from a lone copper coin. “You’re having a coin for a veteran?”

Somehow, Kobold doubted that this man had ever served in the army, but he was not one to question a beggar’s chosen story. They were reliable folk from his experience, the sort most likely to accept kindness for what it was and repay it with honesty. And in each city he had ever been, beggars had always seen and heard more than the upper classes would ever believe.

“For your thoughts”, he clarified and the beggar gave him a swift nod. “Sure, ask ahead”, he replied, as Kobold dropped the silver coin in his bowl and the man’s face lit up. “I’m new here in Menzhome”, he spoke. “But I’ve heard all sorts of dark tales. People are disappearing, apparently the baron’s rather hanging those who investigate” He knew he could be frank with this man. A more upstanding citizen would have taken offence to him openly slandering the baron, but one look was enough to prove that this beggar had his own grievances with Dustward of Mersley-Boarstribe.

“Bold words, Sir”, the man replied. “Doesn’t mean they’re wrong though” His smile grew thinner until only a pained grimace remained. “You’re not the first who comes to me. A dozen people like you tried to investigate, they were all charged with trying to con the grieving families of this city and the baron made sure they’d all hang. Rumour has it that one night in his dungeons was enough to make some of them go to the gallows on their own”

“Sounds hard to believe”, Kobold growled and the old beggar gave him a grim nod. “And yet… half of those people had enough brains to seek me out. You’re paying better than all of them, so I’ll tell you to turn around”, the man replied. Though his breath was reeking of cheap alcohol, his tone was serious. “Something evil is stalking this city at night. It ignores me because I’m old and spent, it might ignore you as well, but those people I saw you with over there… that’s the sort that goes missing in this city” He mustered Kobold from head to toe, his experienced gaze setting on the goblin’s pouch. “But if you’re determined to fight it… well it’s your funeral”, he added. “Won’t hurt you to part with another of those sweet coins though, will it?”

The goblin let out a sigh, but he knew better than to haggle with someone who was so desperate for another silver coin. “Make it worth my time”, he replied, as he dropped the coin in the bowl, earning himself a greedy grin from the beggar. “You’re a good man, Sir, a good man indeed”, he spoke and it did not quite sound like empty praise. “The baron used to be a good man too, but you’ve heard right. Lately, he’s changed. Doesn’t leave his castle while the sun is still shining. He’s always been short-tempered, but lately he’s grown irritable. I saw him sentencing a mere thief to death, a poor lad half my age, just because the kid looked at him the wrong way. And his daughter… Lady Ulgraine never spoke to me, of course, she always had her head up in the clouds. But I’ve seen her every day, heading from tavern to tavern here on the central square, often with men by her side. Haven’t seen her at all in months”

“I’ve already heard that something’s wrong with the baron and his daughter”, Kobold clarified. “Tell me something I don’t yet know. You’re having any idea where the missing people went, or what took them?” To this, the beggar shook his head, giving him another grin. “I’d be the richest man in Menzhome if I knew that”, he replied. “But don’t give me that look, good man! I know something you don’t know, something you won’t hear from anyone else”

“And what might that be?”, Kobold asked with genuine curiosity hidden behind biting sarcasm. The beggar glanced around as if he expected anyone to listen in on their conversation, before continuing with a lowered voice. “It’s a knight who took them”, he whispered. “A black knight like in the stories. Lean and tall and lethal, he’s ambushing his victims with sword and sorcery. Those who resist are killed on the spot and the rest is taken… where to, I don’t know, but the only man with knights in his employ here in Menzhome is Baron Dustward himself” Kobold raised one eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that?”, he asked, to which the beggar only chuckled. “I wouldn’t lie to you, good Sir”, he claimed. “I don’t actually know if that’s the full truth, but it’s what the survivor claimed to have seen”

“There’s a survivor?”, Kobold gasped and the beggar gave him a nod. “Aye, just one. A kid from Tobria, arrived here in the city a fortnight ago”, he revealed. “The guards didn’t investigate because his tale was so strange, but I listened. I made sure to remember it” Now, he leant even closer, his voice barely a whisper. “He was in bad shape when he arrived, so they brought him to the temple of Peraine”, he explained. “Sometimes the priest gives me a hot meal, so I was there when they brought him in. Almost frozen to death, but not mad. I’ve seen madness and that kid wasn’t. He had seen things and while I ate my soup, I listened. Turns out the kid and three others come from Tobria. They were sent to Baliho to sell some goods on the market”

“In this bloody winter?”, Kobold asked in disbelief, but the beggar only nodded. “Looks like they’ve been surprised by it. Hells, weren’t we all?”, the old man growled. “Anyway, just a little to the north, in the woods, suddenly there’s this knight. The lad claims he was over seven feet tall, but leaner than any knight he had ever seen and all in black. He gave them one chance to surrender and when they didn’t he killed two of the kid’s friends on the spot with his sword and… with magic too. He himself got knocked out and when he woke up again, the third friend was missing”

“Sounds like a load of shit if you ask me”, Kobold replied. “And entirely different from the other cases. Even if he didn’t make this up, what makes you think it’s connected?” The beggar shrugged. “This has always been a peaceful land”, he clarified. “Answin of Ravenmouth never marched against us, for the fortress of Warkhome was in his way. The orks gave us a wide berth to march on Gareth instead. The people here have never known war, nor darkness. What are the odds that all of a sudden, there’s a sorcerer knight going around killing and kidnapping innocent people at the same time something else is preying on us? And the baron’s trying to cover it up. Just last year, this would have been the talk of the town, but now the guard isn’t even investigating. Call it an old man’s hunch, but there has to be a connection”

Though Kobold couldn’t say that he was quite convinced of that reasoning, he saw where the beggar was coming from. It was strange, all of this was and if the survivor he mentioned was actually right with what he had seen, not investigating his claims was, at best, grossly incompetent. “Perhaps I should check his claim out then”, he mumbled and the old man gave him a nod. “Or perhaps you should leave Menzhome”, he sighed. “If the baron’s as bad as people fear, then nothing good can come from getting in his way”

He raised his tin bowl once again, followed by a wide, shameless smile. “You got another coin for me?”, he asked. “I got nothing more to tell you, but with another coin, I can sleep in a proper bed tonight” Kobold rolled his eyes, but this man had been surprisingly helpful. He liked his coin best in his own pocket, but he wouldn’t miss out on a chance to get a possible set of eyes and ears in his debt, especially in this part of the Meadows. “But in return you keep an eye out for me”, he told him sternly. “Let me know if you learn anything else about the events happening in this city”

The beggar merrily agreed to this and after Kobold gave him another coin, he limped back to Relin and Abigale, who were still studying the board. The young man seemed deeply in thought and didn’t even turn around to face Kobold, but Abigale noticed him at once. “This is more than I thought”, she admitted, as she pointed at the board. Up close, Kobold noticed just how many names had been pinned there. Dozens upon dozens of missing people, well in the double digits.

“That’s… a lot of possible vampires…”, Kobold mumbled and for a second, Abigale’s expression hardened. “We don’t know that”, she hissed. “Maybe… maybe they’re still alive” Her tone was optimistic, but Kobold knew her better than that. “And maybe I’m the King of Maraskan”, he quipped. “Anything that stands out about them?” Abigale shook her head. “They’re leads, all of them”, she admitted. “Almost too many to follow up on them. Two thirds of the ones I already checked were men, most of them young and described as handsome”

“Huh, looks like our vampire has a type”, Kobold confirmed as he glanced at a few of the papers. Young men, some of them locals, the large majority strangers who came with the merchant caravans. A lot of them were black of hair. “If it’s just one vampire, they are a lot more active than Elbaran has ever been”, Abigale added. “But… finding any solid lead here could take hours”

“I got something”, Relin growled from the side, still without taking his eyes off the board. Abigale’s expression slipped, just long enough for Kobold to notice. “You… what?”, she asked and Relin pointed at one of the papers. “I got something”, he replied. Immediately, she stood next to him and Kobold heard her gasp before he could read the paper himself. “That’s unexpected…”, she mumbled.

“I didn’t know you could read this well, boy”, the goblin spoke up and briefly, a confident smile appeared on Relin’s face. “I’ve always wanted to see the world”, he reminded him. “Not many opportunities to do so here in the Meadows, but luckily we have a library in Baliho. Dangig once called it a waste of time, but that never stopped me”

An expression of genuine praise appeared on Kobold’s face and he allowed himself to keep it up until Relin had taken note of it. “Good lad”, he complimented him. “Now, let’s see what we got here…” He glanced at the sheet of paper Relin had discovered and his eyes widened. “Well, bugger me sideways and call me a Blackfur…”, he gasped. “Nadarie Coppersmith… blonde, early thirties, huntress... description sounds familiar too. That’s her, the vampire who took Dangig”

“She has a husband”, Relin growled and Kobold gave him a nod without taking his gaze off the paper. “Abel Coppersmith, loving husband…”, the goblin read out aloud. “Please deliver any information about her whereabouts to the Coppersmith farmstead, a mile to the east, on the road to Montclair Hall” A hopeful smile appeared on Relin’s face. “That’s not far!”, he proclaimed. “We can take the horses and be back before nightfall!”

“Perhaps”, Kobold admitted. “Though I’m not much of a rider, to say the least” It was an understatement. Out in the wilds, among their tribes, his people were riding boars as cranky and hairy as goblins themselves, the largest among them as tall as an Orkland pony. But horses were instinctively wary around goblins and vice versa. They were too tall and though he clad himself in proper clothing and considered himself quite a clean person, he would never get rid of the slightly feral scent that was inherent among his people.

“And there’s another lead as well”, he added. “There’s been a survivor, arrived here not too long ago. He’s in bad shape and currently a guest of the temple of Peraine over there. Told them some outlandish story about a knight in black plate who ambushed him and his friends with spell and sword. Killed two, took one, knocked him out” This gained Abigale’s attention. “Mages can’t wield forged iron”, she brought up. “It interferes with our abilities, without exception. A tiny bit might work, but not even Rohal the Wise could cast in full plate” She shook her head. “That survivor must have imagined the spells, or he’s making things up”, she spoke, but her voice was shaky and Kobold could see the concern on her face. “However… just in case, we should hear him out. It would be a lead right in front of us. Getting to Nadarie’s husband, if he’s still in the area even, would take us the rest of the day. I doubt we’d make it back before nightfall. I suggest we talk to the temple survivor now, then we make sure that we’re well rested before heading towards the Coppersmith farmstead first thing tomorrow. We can consider ourselves lucky the guards let us into the city at all and I doubt they’d be as lenient if we turn up after nightfall”

“So?”, Relin snarled. “This is the first solid lead we have about my brother. We need to follow up on it!” His tone was quickly getting more aggravated and Kobold intervened almost immediately, before he and Abigale could clash over this. The last thing he needed was a dispute among his companions. “And we will!”, he promised. “I know you want to find your brother as soon as possible and I promise you, we will. But I need to think about this… Abigale made an excellent point as well” He looked from her to Relin, then back at the board. “Looks like this is my decision to make”