Chapter 12

Return to Solstice

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the forest floor through the green canopy above. The three of them moved in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Mags felt a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. The dungeon core was warm in her hand, a tangible reminder of their victory.

They found a small clearing and set up camp, too tired to continue much further. Sabo started a fire while Mags prepared a simple meal from their rations. Mags handed the dungeon core to Bidelia, who was finally on her feet and walking on her own again. Mags then took a moment to clean herself off, the black ichor a stubborn stain on her skin and clothes. She quickly gave up, the effort futile. Gnawing on a piece of dried meat, she wondered if she’d be able to find a nearby creek to fish in, or set up some traps, anything for a better meal. But her muscles protested at the thought of standing up and trudging through the forest, and so she settled for the dried meat and stale, unleavened bread from their pack.

As they sat around the fire, the warmth a welcome comfort, Mags couldn’t help but reflect on the day’s events. The battle, the desperate escape—it all seemed like a blur. She looked at her two companions, grateful for their presence. They had faced the depths of the Deep together and come out stronger for it.

Sabo broke the silence, his voice soft. “What do you think the goblins were doing with those aether cores?”

Mags shrugged, still turning the dungeon core over in her hands. “Feeding their king, I suppose. Trying to make him stronger. I’m more curious at how those Maldrath formed from the thing’s stomach.”

Bidelia’s eyes darkened. “That was something else . . . I’ve never seen a Maldrath reformed from an aether core. Though, I suppose I’ve never seen feeding aether cores to a monster tested.”

Mags shivered, the memory of sloshing around in the shadowy substance in the goblin’s belly still fresh in her mind. Let’s just not think about that ever again. “I’m just glad we killed the thing and cleared the Deep.”

Sabo clapped her on the back, a smile on his face. “Damn right we did.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the crackling of the fire and the sounds of the forest their only company. Mags felt a sense of peace settle over her, a stark contrast to the chaos of the dungeon. They had survived, and they would keep surviving, no matter what came next.

As the fire burned low, Mags looked up at the stars, their light a comforting presence in the dark sky. With a final glance at her companions, she lay back, her satchel held close, the strange egg nestled deep within. It was almost as though she could feel a faint, steady rhythm pulsing from within. Probably just my head after all this madness. She closed her eyes, the warmth of the fire lulling her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

image [https://i.imgur.com/7P7JEZo.png]

Mags stirred awake, groaning as she pushed herself upright on the forest floor. Dawn’s first light filtered through the dense canopy, casting a soft, golden glow over the campsite. Every muscle in her body protested with a dull, aching soreness, the aftermath of the previous day’s battle etched into her bones.

She winced as she rolled her shoulders. Her hands, calloused and bruised, reached desperately for her waterskin, the cool liquid a brief solace against the fatigue that clung to her. Around her, the forest was alive with the morning’s symphony—birds chirping, leaves rustling, and the distant murmur of a stream.

The ground beneath her bedroll was hard and unforgiving, and she could still feel the imprint of roots and rocks against her back. She stood, stretching her legs, feeling the tightness in her calves and thighs, remnants of the previous day’s relentless pace. Sabo was also awake and stretching, as was Bidelia, who was tending their fire, her cloak pulled tight around her.

The three broke down their simple campsite and set out for Solstice. Mags was eager to return home, not letting the soreness in her body deter their pace. By midday, they were passing by the warding stone outside the town’s eastern gate. As they were passing under the stone archway, Bidelia spoke up. “I’d wager Kruno is as impatient as ever. I suggest we head straight to him and get this done with.”

“Agreed,” Sabo said, stretching his neck from side to side.

“I can’t be done with this business soon enough,” Mags added before trailing off. They were strolling by the orphanage. She paused. “But I may drop off my pack, sword, and cloak while we’re here. I’m uncomfortably hot, and the goblin guts aren’t helping.”

Bidelia took her in as though looking at the first time, and probably got a whiff of the black ichor that still caked most of Mags’ body. She wrinkled her nose and nodded in understanding. “I don’t blame you.”

Mags smiled. “I’ll be quick.” She handed Bidelia the aether core, which the short Jyvaskan woman placed into her own pack. Mags then pulled the handfuls of precious gems and gold that she had plundered from the Deep, handing it over to Bidelia who struggled to take it all at once. “Do you need to drop anything off?” Mags asked Sabo.

“I just have the Blackfire’s pack,” he said, exaggerating his movements as he readjusted the weight of the large pack on his shoulders. “Which I’m happy to return to them and never see again.”

Mags chuckled, turning and striding into the orphanage. Luckily, no one was near the foyer when she entered and she was able to slip into the abandoned clock tower and up the winding stairs to her room without being sidetracked by one of the children, or worse, Vitomir and his prying questions. Once in her room, she quickly stripped off her cloak and unstrapped Mithra’s sheath. She let the cloak fall to the floor and placed Mithra into her chest. She took the strange egg from her satchel and, letting her eyes settle on its mesmerizing, patterned shell for a moment, placed it beside Mitha in her chest as well.

Mags emerged from the orphanage with a feeling of unease. The strange egg was safely tucked away, but the uncertainty of its significance and value gnawed at her. What if she was making a mistake handing everything else over to Kruno and hoping the egg would be able to purchase their freedom away from Solstice?

She rejoined Bidelia and Sabo, the dungeon core now in Bidelia’s possession, and together they made their way to Blackfire Manor.

The manor loomed ahead, its white stone walls casting long shadows in the afternoon light. The scent of grass and dew having been baked away by the sun mixed with the acrid smell of smoke from nearby chimneys. The three approached the gate, where a pair of guards eyed them suspiciously.

“We’re here to see Kruno on urgent business,” Bidelia said, her voice steady and authoritative. “He’ll be expecting us.”

The guards exchanged glances, clearly reluctant. “Wait here,” one of them grumbled before disappearing through the gate. Moments later, they were ushered inside, led through the manor’s dark corridors until they reached the garden, where Radmilo lounged.

Radmilo was a corpulent figure, reclining on a cushioned seat with an air of lazy authority, buttoned shirt opened and sleeves haphazardly pushed to his elbows. Two local women sat with him, one nestled under his arm, the other perched on his lap. Both of the women were scantily dressed. Radmilo’s hand reached into the one woman’s shirt, casually groping her chest. When the three entered the garden, he pulled his hand away, leaving the woman’s cleavage revealed. Mags felt her face warm at the sight, but quickly swallowed any embarrassment. It’s just a body, you fool. Like yours or anyone else’s. She averted her eyes, anyway.

Radmilo’s laughter boomed through the garden as he popped an olive soaked in oil into his mouth. Mags very much hoped he would choke on that olive, but knew fates weren’t so kind. A ceramic dish sitting in front of Radmilo held the remnants of an afternoon meal—baked goat’s cheese and tomatoes, paired with pickled giant beetle larvae and fresh baked bread. Mags’ stomach growled loudly at the sight and smell of the food, reminding her of the sparse rations they had survived on. She could hear Sabo’s stomach echoing her sentiments beside her.

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Radmilo grinned up at the three. “Welcome back, lovelies.” With a dismissive wave, he sent the women away, who left with playful pouts and whispered giggles. Radmilo scratched his hairy belly absently, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and calculation. “Boss-man will be here soon,” he said, his voice carrying a warning. “He’s in a foul mood today.”

Mags and the others stood there awkwardly while Radmilo picked at his teeth and sipped on a glass of chilled wine. Luckily, they didn’t have to wait long. Kruno strode into the garden, his expression thunderous. He took a seat near Radmilo, his gaze sweeping over them, taking in their haggard and bloodied state.

“You look terrible,” Kruno remarked, his voice dripping with disdain. “I hope you didn’t draw too much attention in coming here.”

“Who cares if we did?” Mags shot back, her hunger and exhaustion making her blunt. “The whole town knows I hunt Maldrath for you. I’m sure folks are sharp enough to assume it’s sometimes hard, bloody work.” She glanced at the food on the table, unable to ignore her hunger any longer. “Are you finished with that?”

Kruno’s dark eyes flashed with anger. “I care. A group of outsiders arrived in town last night. Strangers in the night.” He leaned forward, eyes locked on Mags. “If they are a Company sent by the empire to handle that Deep of ours, they’ll be looking for the missing riches soon enough.”

Ignoring his anger, Mags took a seat across from Kruno, reaching for the food and tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it into the baked cheese and tomatoes before stuffing it into her mouth. Sabo followed her lead, sitting down and eating with a bit more politeness, but no less hunger. The warm, savory flavors of the roasted tomatoes a stark contract to the cold dread that had settled in her stomach during the journey.

Bidelia, ever the diplomat, decided it was time to get to the point. She turned her bag over, spilling the Deep’s treasures onto the table before them. “In any case, we did what we were asked. I’d reckon this settles our debts,” she said, her tone firm.

Kruno’s eyes gleamed with greed as he plucked the large dungeon core from amidst the gems and coins and examined it with a hungry smile. But his smile quickly faded as he assessed the rest of the haul. “I’ll need a full accounting,” he said thoughtfully. His eyes turned upward as though he were making a quick calculation in his head. Mags knew it was all over-dramatic theatrics, and she hated it. “After expenses . . . and accounting for delays, of course . . . Radmilo, what are your thoughts?”

The big man took one look at the pile of riches, then sipped his wine and said, “Still quite a ways to go.”

“Quite a ways,” Kruno said, his voice cold. “But I’ll think of a way for you to earn your way out from that debt of yours, don’t you worry.”

Bidelia opened her mouth to protest.

Kruno cut her off. “Or would you prefer I let your other creditors know where to find you, and let you square this away with them.”

Any protest that was forming on Bidelia’s lips died.

Kruno smiled. “Thought not.”

Mags, swallowing her pride along with another mouthful of food, interjected. “This core is worth more than any aether core I’ve brought back before. Not to mention all this treasure was extremely dangerous to obtain. Far more dangerous than hunting a stray Maldrath or two. We deserve something for our trouble.”

“I do like your boldness at times, girl.” Kruno smirked and tossed them each a gold coin. “Here, a gratuity for your services,” he said mockingly.

Mags caught her coin, a snarl curling on her lip. In actuality, she welcomed the additional coin, but hoped her ire at the pittance extinguished any doubt in Kruno that everything plundered from the Deep was right in front of them. She stood to leave, the coin clutched tightly in her fist. “Let’s go, Sabo.” She gestured her head in the direction of the exit. Sabo stood to follow her.

Kruno laughed, a cruel sound that echoed through the garden. “Remember, you belong to me. Rest up! There will be more work soon.” He leaned forward and poured himself a glass of the wine. Raising the glass to his lips, he said, “And keep quiet about this job.” He took a sip before muttering to himself, “Strangers in the night.”

image [https://i.imgur.com/7P7JEZo.png]

Mags and Sabo emerged from Blackfire Manor, their faces still set in grim lines from the encounter with Kruno. The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the cobblestone streets of Solstice. Sabo stretched his arms above his head with a groan that resonated through his tired frame.

“I could probably sleep for days,” Sabo said, his voice a mix of relief and exhaustion. He glanced at the gold coin Kruno had tossed him, weighing it thoughtfully in his palm. “This is at least a week’s pay, even after I subtract the cost of replacing Frane’s axe.”

Mags nodded, feeling the same weariness seep into her bones. The battle against the goblin king had taken its toll on them. She looked at the gold coin in her own hand, its surface catching the sunlight. “I think I’ll take a nice bath,” she said. “We’re both due for a night of relaxation after everything we’ve been through.”

Sabo raised an eyebrow. “A bath isn’t a bad idea . . . How about we hit Pod Starim this evening?” Pod Starim, also known as The Old Roof Tavern, was the local watering hole and where all of the townsfolk and people from the countryside liked to gather, drink, trade gossip, and be merry.

Mags’ eyes lit up at the suggestion. “That sounds perfect.” It had been quite some time since she last frequented the tavern.

Sabo pulled on his collar and gave himself a whiff. He wrinkled his nose. “I think I’ll swing by the bathhouse myself.”

The two of them made their way to the bathhouse located in the center of town. The streets were bustling with activity as townsfolk went about their daily routines. Most of Solstice’s buildings lacked internal running water, and even those that did didn’t have dedicated bathing rooms. For a proper wash, most people paid a small fee to use the bathhouse or, weather permitting, hiked to the nearby creek to bathe.

As they approached the bathhouse, they were greeted by the familiar sight of its stone façade, worn smooth by years of use. The air was filled with a mix of earthy and floral scents, a promise of cleanliness and relaxation. Inside, the bathhouse was dimly lit, a counter stood between two doorways, one marked for the men of Solstice, and the other for the women.

Antica, the squat old Olenish woman with dark skin and wispy white curls, sat behind the counter. She peered up at them with a wrinkled nose, her eyes widening as she took in their filthy appearance. “I’ve never seen two people so filthy,” she said with a scowl. “Rollin’ around with the pigs were ya?” Antica barked a single laugh. “Wash and laundry?” she asked, the word ‘wash’ being pronounced almost like ‘warsh.’

Mags glanced down at her tunic, pants and boots. “Yes, that’ll be fine.”

Sabo nodded. “Yes.”

Antica scratched at her chin. “I’ll need to throw in extra soap, so it’ll cost a bit more. Two-and-a-half imperial marks for the two of you.”

Mags, unfazed, produced the gold coin Kruno had given her. “I’ll pay for both of us,” she said, placing the coin on the counter. “And I’ll need change.”

Antica’s eyes narrowed as she examined the coin. “Do I look like a money changer to you?” she grumbled, but began to retrieve a scale from under the counter. She weighed the coin with a practiced hand before rummaging under her desk for a small leather pouch. After a few moments, she tossed the pouch onto the counter.

Mags took the pouch and felt its weight. She opened it and gave the coins inside a cursory, noting the mix of metals. In all honesty, she had no idea if the coins amounted to proper change.

“Took an additional small fee for the changing services and the pouch,” Antica chimed in. “Need something to hold yer money, darling.”

Mags shrugged. She knew Antica well enough, and the old lady was honest, if only a bit miserly. She nodded in acknowledgment and moved towards the women’s side of the bathhouse, while Sabo thanked her for paying and headed towards the men’s baths.

The women’s bathing area was a modest room filled with several buckets of water, brushes, rags, and clumps of soap, their scents of lavender and rosemary wafting through the air. Mags undressed and let her clothes fall in a heap on a nearby bench. An attendant of Antica’s quickly entered and took the clothing, noting that the clothes would be laundered and hung out to dry.

Mags doused herself with tepid water from a bucket and took a seat on a short stool. The soap felt cool and refreshing against her skin as she scrubbed away the grime and sweat of the past few days. She used pieces of fabric provided by the bathhouse to tie back her curly hair into several segments, making it easier to lather up with the shampoo.

As she cleaned, she couldn’t help but look at the mirrors against the far wall. There weren’t too many mirrors in Solstice, and most were probably in the bathhouse, itself a luxury. After she was finished bathing herself, Mags approached one of the body-length mirrors. She gazed at herself, taking in her short but sturdy frame, with muscular curves and broader shoulders. She thought of the women at Blackfire Manor and the stark contrast their figures painted to her own. Her dark skin was marred with scratches, bruises, and faint scars, each a testament to her struggles and battles.

Mags moved to the back of the bathhouse, an outside area enclosed by a large stone wall. Trees were planted around the outside of the space providing ample shade, and a wooden wall bisected the area into private men’s and women’s baths. In the center of the space, a large marble bath awaited. The water was warmed using hot stones and was scented with a hint of citrus and herbs. She gingerly stepped into the steaming bath, letting out a sigh of relief as the warmth enveloped her. The serenity of the space, with its gentle steam and soothing ambiance, was a stark contrast to the chaos of the Deep.

On the other side of the dividing wall, she heard Sabo’s voice as he plunged into the hot bath on the men’s side. He hissed with a mixture of surprise and pleasure at the water’s temperature. Mags quietly laughed, finding comfort in the simple pleasure of the moment.