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Cave Entrance – North Rythian Forests – The Kingdom of Trangracia – Nexus. Local Time: 1020 Hours

Katiya

The dawn will come.

That’s what my mother would always say.

It was a simple ward against nightmares, an assurance against terrors, and a constant reminder that the horrors of the present were nothing in comparison to the Eternal Day that was His Eternal Majesty’s decree. 

The dawn would come, and with it the horrors of the dark would be kept at bay.

This had been the case time and time again, all without fail… until now.

For on this night and this night alone, waking up didn’t mean an end to the nightmares, no. 

It was merely an escape from one infernium to another.

Because for each hour spent asleep, was another hour spent awake, not out of paranoia or battle strain.

…

It was spent awake hiding from the forest herself.

Not its predators.

Not her guardians.

But the very forest that Lord Ignalius had sought to placate with his ill-gotten goods.

…

Every other hour was a scramble to whatever remained of elven-made heights.

The ground itself opened up without warning, undulating, squirming, twisting, and writhing like the skin of some unimaginable titan.

The vines themselves pulsed with the life energies of the forest. Whilst the ground, the roots, the grass, and so on and so forth? Those were her muscles, hairs, and… whatever other unspeakable horrors of the flesh that existed beyond my ability to describe.

This made the trees a fool’s hideaway. For despite my innate desire to scramble up their tentative safety, I knew that these were man-traps, snares for the ill-informed and the city-dwelling fools.

This meant that only rock was safe.

But that wasn’t even guaranteed when most were covered by moss and dirt of some sort, including the cave’s entrance.

And so I sat still, muscles aching and arms and legs clenched against the tough fabric of the wagon’s rooftops.

For these were the only truly ‘safe’ places amidst the living infernium that was this juvenile forest.

I clung onto the few wagons remaining for dear life, unable to truly fall asleep, forever trapped in this state between restfulness and restlessness as each and every CREAK, SHRRRRK, and RUSTLE brought with it the CLANKING of armor and the CLINKING of metal. 

I dared not look.

But I did so only to see body after body subsumed by the ground with only the occasional armor, coin, and blade left behind.

The forest was seeking retribution, payment for the offerings now considered inadequate by Lord Ignalius’ hand.

…

Or perhaps… the forest knew of the grey lord’s ill-gotten gains and merely refused to accept wares taken in cold blood.

Whatever the case was, I had to keep moving, as each wagon was indeed challenged for their treasures, many crushed by the forest’s curious vines.

This meant I could not stay on one roof for long, as I jumped from wagon to wagon, the ground itself a threat if I ever dared touch it.

I continued this… for as long as I could… before exhaustion eventually overtook me.

I knew not when I truly fell into a deep and ceaseless slumber.

But I knew I’d survived when I finally felt that intrusive light of day.

Though that sensation, as annoying and energy-sapping as it was, paled in comparison to the other that jolted me awake — a creeping sensation, slithering, climbing, and then wrapping and twirling around my leg.

I attempted to scramble free, and in that panic I screamed.

“Mrrraaaowwww ow ow ow ow!”

Cave Entrance – North Rythian Forests – The Kingdom of Trangracia – Nexus. Local Time: 1020 Hours

Thalmin

My attention had shifted thrice now.

It began at the foot of abashment, a shame demanding redress at the behest of the rashly betrothed whose commitment I’d seized without counsel, a decision driven only by the impatience of the foolhardy.

Then it shifted abruptly and without warning into a call to action — a shift back towards a goal so far removed from all my worldly concerns that it might as well have come from a different life entirely. 

But acknowledge it I did, addressing the matter with the repose I’d have given my earlier thought and preparing myself for what was bound to be a surprisingly brief jaunt into this fulfilment of the Academy’s petty games.

Yet not soon after, and scarcely after a coherent string of acknowledgements had been uttered from my person, did another complication rear its ugly head.

“Mrrraaaowwww ow ow ow ow!”

Or more accurately, its ugly vines.

My eyes glanced over to meet a baxi caught in the crossfire of fear and disorientation. Her whole body leaped back from what appeared to be vines creeping up against her boot and leggings.

I surged forwards, Emma cocking her head in confusion but soon following suit.

Though that brief sprint and, seemingly, our very presence alone were enough to ward off any unbidden incursions.

As the vines seemed to withdraw straight back into the sparse canopy from which they came, alongside—

…

No.

This couldn’t…

I blinked.

Then, I began scrying the immediate area.

It was with that second scry that my heart simply dropped, and my eyes finally acknowledged the sights that had seemingly awaited us over the course of our reality-defying epic.

“Thalmin?” Emma’s words came through, carrying with them the cautious wariness that had similarly assaulted my senses. “What… what the hell is all of this?”

The earthrealmer’s curious gaze rapidly evolved into a defensive posture as she held out both arms at this point, with both the alicorn-killer and her second still-unused weapon ready and waiting for an excuse to fire.

I couldn’t blame her.

Not when the ground was a writhing, vine-filled mass… a receding one but an unnerving sight all the same.

“This… this is more than likely the result of Kaelthyr’s promise, Emma.” I spoke softly, deploying a privacy field and speaking only through her ‘earpiece.’

Emma’s arms lowered as she repeated those fateful words spoken following our first interaction with the dragon. “The bodies will be rent asunder. You will be spared… suspicion. You may take, loot, and plunder at your discretion.” She paused as if to think those words over. “But… but I thought she meant she’d be burning or eating them or something?” Emma managed out as we both cautiously observed the writhing and tangled mass of receding vines. “Not… casting some spell to turn all of them into—”

“This is not Kaelthyr’s doing. Or at least, not directly.” I interjected. “I know not if she had communed with the forest during our walk back into the cave, or whether she had done so sometime during our interactions. But she may have, in some enigmatic fashion, offered the flesh of all the fallen as recompense for our collective infractions.”

Emma didn’t respond, simply urging me to continue, as it was clear that this was yet again another aspect of the living world she found to be… difficult to take in.

An expected reaction, from a people who seemed to exclusively dwell in environments of their own creation.

“Though this may simply be the forest’s doing, with Kaelthyr merely anticipating what was to come. However, I find that difficult to believe, especially given the armor, weapons, and coin that clearly remain. But whatever the case may be, it is clear the forest has taken recompense for the damages we all inflicted.”

“The damage Kaelthyr inflicted, mostly.” Emma countered with a nervous laugh. “What with her whole firestorm campaign the previous night.”

“Aye.” I nodded, letting out a dark chuckle in the process before finally turning back to a shaking Katiya.

Katiya

I knew not what had overtaken me.

Perhaps it was the fear, the wariness, or the distrust that I’d grown of the ground itself.

Whatever it was… I soon found myself leaping for Dreadwolf’s arms, practically tackling the larger-than-life figure before settling onto his shoulders with a body still refusing to calm its ceaseless trembling.

I dared not put boot to ground… at least not in this forest, not anymore.

Not when the ground itself had become—

“Katiya.” A voice emerged beneath my trembling form as two strong, glaived hands attempted to tug me down. “I would prefer it if you didn’t block my line of sight.”

“Ah! I… Er, of course, Ser Dreadwolf! But I… I would… I do not… I… I no longer think I can. Not without angering the forest, and not without being eaten!” 

A deep sigh soon followed as the mercenary looked over to his golem as if attempting to find some way to accommodate my foolhardy requests.

“I… I c-can walk as well, of course, Ser Dreadwolf. Y-you have saved me twice now! That’s two whole life debts! This… this certainly isn’t the sort of behavior you’d expect of someone with such debts owed—”

“Katiya.” Dreadwolf interrupted. However, instead of either reassurances to my concerns or even outright rage or apathy to my actions, I instead received… acknowledgement of my deepest worries. “Your fears are warranted.” The lupinor spoke plainly. So bluntly, in fact, that I felt my gut twisting inside of me. “The forest has clearly marked those belonging to Ignalius’ party, and by extension, you.” 

I felt my shaking intensify as my grip on the lupinor grew tighter.

“You must leave the forest posthaste. For there is no safety while you still tread upon its domain.” 

I tried to speak. I tried to respond. I tried with everything in my shivering chest to manage even a word.

But nothing emerged.

“I am afraid I cannot escort you to the edge of the forest. For I have my own… quests to fulfill.” The lupinor added, confirming my worst fears.

However, just as I was about to lose hope, just when I thought all was lost…

“I will instead assign you a task and an escort.” He remarked abruptly, causing me to perk both ears back up. “Use any one of the remaining carts, and gather as much in the way of loose belongings as you can. Coins, purses, pouches, the stray dagger, helmet, and what-have-you. Anything that seems normal and mostly unenchanted.” 

My eyes narrowed at this, not in any doubt but in confusion as to exactly what Dreadwolf was planning.

“I-if I may, Ser Dreadwolf. I am very much capable of completing your looting for you! I can drag heavy armor to the cart without any issu—”

“I would rather we not draw the attention of the authorities, Katiya.” Ser Dreadwolf spoke bluntly. 

Following which, my fears once more returned in full.

A lifetime of living in the dregs, of being in proximity to the scum of society, made it clear exactly what Dreadwolf was referring to.

When stealin’, don’t go off stealin’ from those that look too well-to-do. And don’t take anythin’ that’d catch the attention of those who’re buyin from ya too. Sometimes, it’s worth more gold for them to snitch, than it is to actually do business with ya.

“R-right!” I acknowledged with a firm nod.

Sir Dreadwolf really was a mercenary through and through… not even Lord Ignalius would have considered something so… plebeian*. He… oh, His Majesty’s Grace, he truly* was the embodiment of chivalry amongst commone—

“Katiya.” 

I felt my whole world collapsing as my thoughts came to a halt.

“You do not have much time. Get started. I’ll assign my steed to the cart of your choosing. It will lead you out of the forests, where we will then meet up.”

“R-right! Y-yes, Ser Dreadwolf! As you command!”

Emma

I had no idea what I just witnessed.

The whole exchange… had played out like a literal cutscene.

Though what game, let alone what genre, was completely up in the air.

Because it started to feel like Thalmin really was a magnet for the ladies. No matter if it was at home or abroad, in the heights of noble society, or even those as far from it as was humanly possible, he always managed to exude a certain sort of charm that he barely even acknowledged.

…

A charm… which even perhaps transcended realities, if some of the more distant reactions at the IAS were anything to go by.

Regardless, I stood by silently, keeping to my ‘golem’ persona, at least in front of Katiya, as the baxi went about doing something she seemed worryingly adept at — looting.

And while I hated to stereotype, I couldn’t help but acknowledge the expedience in her movements as she leaped throughout the remains of what the forest had spat out, scurrying through armor and cloak alike.

Thalmin had hovered by her side for the first half of the exercise, as if to ensure she was up to snuff for what he wanted out of this operation.

“Twice-forged manasteel, dipped in an electrum coating and enchanted at the moment of coolin—”

“Too flashy. Easily traceable. Next.” Thalmin remarked, prompting the baxi to nod and to haphazardly throw the sword away.

“Dwarven-forged manasteel. No elven enchants, no big-name stamps, but several aftermarket enchants, either homebrew, or—”

“Pack it.”

“Yes, Ser Dreadwollf!”

This went on for several more rounds, as it was clear Katiya eventually got a hang of what Thalmin wanted out of this operation.

“Rainbow chainmai—”

“No.” 

“Iridescent chai—”

“No.”

“Irides—”

“No.”

“Ahem. Iridescent-only-when-struck—”

“Then it’s not iridescent chainmail. It’s reactive chainmail, Katiya.”

“Ah! Apologies, Ser Dreadwolf! S-so d-did you want this or—”

“How many did you get?”

“… erm, five?”

“Take one.”