As the camp went quiet, Darlac wiggled into her bedroll, leaving guard duty to Tehara. Hazel's curious lightning-in-the-forest scent still lingered around her. She didn't mind. That scent was much better than the night before, when she'd gone to bed with the stink of burnt hair and flesh in her nostrils. The soft noises of nightfall soon lulled her to sleep.

Time went by, until a strange bird call made its way into Darlac's sleeping brain. Deep down, she felt it should be important, but not important enough to break her mind free from the shackles of sleep. Then she heard a woman's voice grumble:

"What in the brambles... Did not know Varnhold had bisons... Or wild horses... General Darlac?"

Darlac finally tore herself out of slumber's grasp, only to face a dishevelled Baroness Guelder.

"What is going on, General? The earth is trembling! Can you feel it, too?"

Darlac couldn't, but she knew better than question a druid's word on that. A dozen possibilities and impossibilities flashed through her mind, while she was rummaging for her sword. No, Varnhold had no bisons or wild horses, not even tame ones, unfortunately. Could it be an earthquake? A bulette digging upwards to prey on them? Another zombie cyclops attack? Ilthuliak the dragon searching for her defeated rival to finish it off?

Then she realised that the strange bird call was Tehara's signal of alarm, a seagull call from her seafaring years, never heard inland.

"Wake the others! Prepare for an attack!" barked Darlac at the baroness, not even considering the difference of rank. Guelder did as told, without making a fuss, which was a pleasant surprise. Darlac grabbed the rope and heaved herself up to Tehara's vantage point. The tiefling stopped her seagull cries and continued scouring the horizon with her spyglass enhanced by the darkvision of her eyes.

"Report," demanded Darlac.

"About thirty men on horseback, with bows, spears and torches, approaching quickly."

"What in the nine hells?" Varnhold's entire population didn't have thirty horses between them. Who could these be? Then it all clicked into place, and Darlac berated her bleary brain for working so sluggishly. "Tehara, are you sure these men could dismount if they wanted to?"

Tehara lowered the spyglass.

"Damn, you're right. It's the centaurs. How come they're not asleep in the dead of the night?"

"Well done, Tehara. Go down to the others, and prepare for... well, anything. Holy fringe, I hope I can handle this."

Tehara patted her on the arm.

"If anyone, you can. Here. Take my spyglass. It brings no luck, but helps you see further."

As Tehara climbed down, nimbly as a squirrel, Darlac shouted:

"Attention, everyone!"

The Varnlings snapped to attention, the Nightvale crew turned their faces upwards, seeking her out with their eyes, and Kassil was kind of caught in the middle.

"An armed centaur troop is approaching. As yet, I am unaware of their intentions, but there is a good chance I can negotiate with them. Still, we must hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Tristian, cast all the buffs you have. Linzi, play a soothing melody, but get a fierce one ready as well. The others, build a barricade from bedrolls, tents, backpacks and the like to provide shelter for the archers and casters. Melee fighters, take up arms and position yourselves in front of the barricade. Most importantly, nobody starts a fight unless I give the order to do so, not even if they attack first. All clear?"

Some members of the delegation jumped immediately and set about doing their tasks. Others cast a questioning glance at her, then at Guelder.

"It's a trap," said Valerie, her voice barely audible for Darlac on top of the tor. "No offense, Your Grace, but you shouldn't have accepted this invitation. They will massacre you and your entire government here, and Nightvale will be forgotten in a month or two."

"Enough!" snapped the baroness. "Everyone! You have heard General Darlac! This is her land and her... erm... acquaintances, so she is in charge! Get to work!"

"You're putting your trust in the enemy, Your Grace!" wailed Linzi, running about with her bedroll under her arm. "I promise I will compose a cautionary tale about your untimely demise... provided that my ring doesn't take me straight to Varnhold Town!"

"Thorns and brambles, Linzi!" exclaimed Guelder. "If you do not trust a paladin, whom do you trust? Now brace up and do the task you have been assigned!"

Putting her own words into practice, the baroness immediately rolled up her blanket and added it to the barricade, then hurried to Tristian to help him with the buffs. Din of preparation came from below, Valerie clanking around with her armour, Hazel and Gekkor checking their bowstrings, Tristian chanting his spells and prayers, Guelder's leopard making strange coughing noises, Linzi frantically tuning her lute. With the help of the spyglass, Darlac could make out the centaurs' faces by the torchlight. She recognised their leader from their earlier dealings. Hopefully he, too, would recognise her.

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They finally came within range. Hazel and Gekkor waited on one knee behind the barricade with drawn bows, but they adhered to her instructions and refrained from shooting.

Now it was time to skyline.

Darlac tapped into the heavenly power in her blood, and a halo of golden light appeared around her head. She drew her sword and raised it towards the sky, invoking her bond with her goddess and imbuing the weapon with holy power. Light trickled down her silhouette from the tip of the sword, encompassing her. The sight drew gasps from Linzi as well as a few centaurs, and a pfft from Valerie.

Standing up tall near the edge of the tor, Darlac bellowed at the top of her lungs:

"In the name of Baron Maegar Varn, Lord of Varnhold and Dunsw—"

By instinct, she slightly moved to the side, careful not to fall. An arrow whistled through the air and grazed her thigh, ripping the fabric of her uniform. Darlac stifled a grunt of annoyance and channeled a little healing power into the wound. The bleeding stopped, and the pain ceased immediately. She couldn't afford distractions. She had to maintain the appearance of a dauntless divine warrior, even if her trouser leg showed a little skin.

"Halt and state your business!"

The centaurs halted, lining up in the shape of a crescent and starting a muffled conversation. Darlac thought she saw two of them take turns slapping a third one on the neck, but maybe it was only the dancing torchlight tricking her eyes. Finally, their leader, a middle-aged male with a short beard, walked forward to respond.

"General Darlac, is that you?"

"Indeed, Karus, it's me! Blessings of Desna and Iomedae upon you and your people! What brings you here at this time of the night?"

"We received news that a group of adventurers crossed the border and was approaching your town. Just wanted to check on them, to see if they respect the law of the land and leave the ancient structures alone."

"You need not worry about these people, Karus. They represent a friendly country, respectful of our traditions. I vouch for them personally."

"I take your word on that, General. We will not disturb you any longer. And... sorry about the arrow. Our Beden is not the sharpest spear on the rack, you know."

"No offense taken, Karus. Give my regards to your queen."

Darlac waited until the last torch disappeared from sight, then climbed down the rope again. Baroness Guelder called her aside, while the others restored the order in camp.

"Thanks for vouching for us, Darlac," she said. "We would have stood no chance against them in a fight."

"Thanks for being cooperative, Your Grace. Your wisdom is greater than your pride, which is a rare and commendable trait in rulers."

"What was this all about, by the way?"

"This centaur tribe acts as guardians of the land," explained Darlac, "although they usually stay away from Varnhold proper and roam the wastelands of Dunsward and the Tors of Levenies. We have made a pact with them. They believe there is an ancient evil sealed away in a tomb somewhere in the region, which must not be awakened. Therefore, we made a solemn promise to them that we wouldn't delve into any historic site in the area."

Guelder's eyes widened in incredulous amusement.

"So... you do not do dungeons?"

"Exactly."

"But..." The baroness bit back her critique in the last moment. "Well, to each their own. I suppose this is not crazier than preserving most of the land as an intact wilderness, either."

"Most of the land? Then how do you even... sorry. As you said, to each their own. Perhaps it goes without saying, but let me remind you that this law of the land applies to you and your subjects as well."

"Fair enough. You will not come to my barony to clearcut my woodlands, and I will not come to your barony to explore your dungeons. We can include it in the treaty, if your baron so wishes. But how do you keep other adventurers away?"

"We have warning signage in place at every site we have discovered so far, and an Act of Monumental Preservation. Our very first law, older than our laws on murder or treason. Every trespasser we catch is punished with twenty switches. The punishment increases by ten switches with every relapse. That makes them think twice. Trespassers caught by the centaurs don't get off the hook so easily... or at all."

Darlac fell silent, wishing it had been the centaurs who'd caught Willas Gunderson in the act of dungeoneering. She had yet to figure out how to make him pay for... well, existing.

Someone touched her shoulder, making her jump. As she turned back, she saw Hazel standing behind her.

"I recovered your bedroll for you," they said softly. "Nice skylining you did there. Astounding and unforgettable, like you are. However, if I were you, I would do something about that wound before I go to sleep. We still have several hours of hike ahead of us, and walking will be uncomfortable tomorrow if you leave it untreated. I can stitch it up for you."

Damn, this elf had pretty keen eyes even for their kind. Or had they just been checking out her thighs?

"Have you never met a paladin in all those millennia?" she teased them. "I healed myself long ago. The only thing that needs stitching is my trousers, but that will have to wait until we reach Varnhold Town. And now, if you don't mind, let's resume our rest. We must be all nice and fresh in the morning."

She snatched her bedroll from Hazel, tucked herself in, and slowly drifted into a light, peaceful sleep to the sounds of Guelder upbraiding her Treasurer in their mellow language.