The sounds of a distant commotion roused Uldred from her regular weary, withdrawn state. Pulling herself from her cocoon of blankets with just about all of the effort that she could muster, Uldred stumbled through the treacherous terrain of her dark and messy room until she reached one of the windows which looked out over the courtyard. It had been so long since those cloth coverings had last been touched that when she pulled them open now a great plume of dust erupted and filled the air around her, causing her nose to itch and her eyes to tear up as it settled.

Blearily peering down over the courtyard, Uldred wondered what could be happening so late into the evening that the sun had already dipped below the wastelands to the West. She was surprised when her eyes fell upon the small and irritating man who was her new husband, who was right that moment sat straddled atop some poor steed! She had not a clue as to where he might have acquired the animal, but nonetheless there he was trotting away upon it while Belfort chased behind him and called out with a worried tone. Niklas shouted back, and though from that distance Uldred could not make out words, she noted the sharp anger in his voice. When he reached the gate the old Butler abandoned his futile pursuit, and could only catch his breath while looking on with dismay as the small, lone figure of the Count vanished into the darkness.

Well, I hope he got sick of this place and is going home, never to return! Uldred thought spitefully. She didn’t have much hope in that being the case, however, as she had noted his lack of luggage.

After pulling the shades back over her window, Uldred marched back to her bed with a huff, stumbling a few times over the bits and bobbles littering the floor as she went. Crossing her arms, she grumbled to herself now, a habit she had been indulging in off-and-on over the past few weeks.

“Greedy, no-good rotten…”

Truthfully, she still remained bitter over that ill-fated meeting with Lord Borney. Just as she had been coming back around to… tolerating Niklas, after she had tricked her into destroying their precious contract–an event which still filled her with dismay and anxiety enough to keep her awake late into the night–she had then discovered the horrid details of those ‘plans’ which he had begged her to trust in.

Taxes? Labor!? He would milk the Petrician people, my family’s people, for what little they have, and just before the deadly wintertime, no less…!

Uldred clenched her hands into fists as her mind drifted back to the service held for her Father’s death and her own ascension, all those years ago. She could still recall the looks of relief and gratitude that had softened the normally stoic faces of the Yeoman and Elders who had filled that same courtyard below her window, as she shared her first and only decree as their Countess: to free them of any further commitment to supply taxes or tithe to their Countess. And that following winter, and what a terrible one it had turned out to be, the numbers of Petrician lives lost to cold or starvation fell to a record low, a feat which was owed to the amount of food and coin she had allowed them to save. Amidst her otherwise, self-admittedly, woeful and incompetent rule as Countess, that was Uldred’’s single moment of pride.

If that man continues to harm the territory of my family and home… I may have to do my duty as Countess, in order to protect it!

But as she was already in a rather poor emotional state, that intrusive thought immediately brought a torrent of bad memories flooding to the surface of her mind. Front and center among them was an awful recollection that Uldred had done her utmost to keep buried, one which caused her body to tense up and break out into cold perspiration e, along with summoning a dreadful, lurching feeling to her gut as if she might hurl! She swiftly pulled the familiar, worn blankets over herself once again and shut her eyes tight, and let any remaining thoughts about her territorial duty slip away into nothing for the evening.

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Niklas wobbled precariously upon the back of his old, but newly-acquired, steed. By some stroke of good fortune a stable-boy in the town nearby had been leading an old mare back from the pasture. She was too old and weak to pull anything properly for her work, the lad had told them, and he was giving her one last sentimental jog before his father put her down in the morning. Hemsley had tossed him three silver coins for the old girl, which was more than four times her worth, and the lad readily handed over her reins. For once Niklas was truly thankful for his small stature, for even an elderly beast such as this could easily lift him on her back and trot along.

But even with the lucky acquisition of the mare, the young Count’s face was still twisted with the same anger and irritation that, hours ago, had driven him out of his comfortable robe and bedroom and back out into the cold Petrician winds. But as he caressed the rough mane of his new traveling companion Niklas sighed and let some of the fury dissipate into the air.

“So… Chestnut, are you?” He asked, looking down to the horse.

The beast’s lips quivered as she let out a loud raspberry then, as if in reply to his question.

“Well then, Chestnut, I welcome you into the service of the Lord Count! Unfortunately, you shan’t be paid in silvers like your two colleagues, but I doubt you would like that anyways. Perhaps… a regular stipend of carrots or seeds would be a more comfortable arrangement for you?”

The old horse’s legs quaked then and she stumbled slightly, nearly sending the hapless Niklas toppling off of her back. He was well practiced in riding, as was traditional for all of the van der Leigh children, but that practice had been on a proud and mighty warhorse, not some old, knock-kneed plowmaid. He all too quickly learned that he would likely need to maintain a vigil readiness at all times, lest he fall from her back and crack his head against a stone due to a sudden mis-step. What an exhausting trip this was turning out to be already, without even considering the inevitable mess that he would have to resolve after he finally reached his destination.

He placed a hand upon the small leather pack that hung at his side, which had been hastily stuffed with a water and wineskin, and some dried meat and fruits for the road. Although the whole purpose of this expedition was to reign in the efforts of a seemingly-rogue Mayor, the man’s gift of plentiful and varied foodstuffs had single-handedly kept the Castle afloat since his previous visit, and Niklas couldn’t help but be a little thankful for it.

But the variety of food he has access to is what is most suspicious. Niklas reminded himself. It is part of the reason I must take this matter seriously and investigate him immediately!

Many hours passed, then. They were so long, silent and dark that sometimes he began to wonder if he might have ridden into purgatory, where he would be condemned to ride in solitary frustration forever more. Yet, after what felt like a great deal of time had passed, and the sky was just beginning to show notes of purple to herald the light of the rising sun, Chestnut began to slow and breathe heavily with weariness, and Niklas decided to set up a little camp for them near some foliage some thirty paces off of the beaten road.

Leaving the poor old girl to lay herself down upon a grassy bed, Niklas produced from his pack a simple bedroll for himself, which he settled down beside her. His previous temper now completely settled, the young Count felt a sudden wave of tiredness as the exhaustion of the late hour and his long travel finally caught up with him. But just as he was about to fall into a most welcome slumber, he felt a small sharp, urgent feeling, as nature called to him. Frustrated and only half awake, Niklas reluctantly dragged himself out of his comfortable blankets and groggily trudged a little further off from the camp and into a set of small bushes.

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As he relieved himself Niklas suddenly noticed something just past the bushes where he now stood, hidden slightly deeper in the brush. It was a color which appeared like normal stone, but with a shape like some giant boulder. It was light in color and its surface had a smooth texture, not unlike carved marble. After putting his trousers back to rights, Niklas reached with either arm and pulled back the brush and canopy obscuring his view of it and stepped through. There before him stood a mighty and strange sculpture. The thing was so round and bulbous that Niklas almost didn’t notice the stalk at its base that was firmly planted in the dirt. He then looked about his feet and noticed that the ground was moist and tender–something which was not his doing–and it was indeed nothing like the usual arid, rocky Petrician soil. With how healthy it appeared, it was as if this particular patch of earth had been fed regularly with water and nutritious fertilizer. What’s more, growing in that moist dirt were clusters of dozens of of little mushrooms all around.

“What… is all this?” Niklas wondered aloud, just under his breath.

So taken was he by the dirt and smaller fungi along the ground that he did not notice the large, asymmetrical and bloodshot eyes which had slid open near the top of the single greater bulb, and which were now leering down at him!

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A scream of terror cut through the silence and the steadily breaking darkness of the waning morning, which caused a woman’s head to perk up suddenly. She let the pouch she held lackadaisically over her shoulder fall to the ground, and with a wry grin now parting her lips, she ducked down slightly and broke into a full sprint towards the the location where the cry had arisen. Slightly off of the dirt road and over a small hill she came upon an old mare lying next to a pile of blankets, who had also perked her head up nervously at the shrill cry, and now at seeing the sudden and rapidly approaching form of the woman reared up and whinnied in distress.

“Shh, shhh shhhh!” The stranger came to a halt and reached out a copper-colored hand before her to quell the nerves of the old beast, who seemed to calm with an almost alarming quickness after taking a single whiff of the woman’s skin.

“That’s a good girl!” She cooed to the mare in a light accent, running a soothing hand down its snout.

Another panicked call broke out in the middle of that sweet moment, and it was closer this time, coming from just behind an odd patch of greenery a bit further off from the makeshift camp. Again the woman broke into a run and beelined directly into the thick foliage. As she broke through to the other side of it she found the source of the commotion: the ugly, bulbous form of a giant gray mushroom cap, standing as tall as two men and as wide across as three. Rising up from the dirt all around it were a hundred gray, vein-like tendrilling roots. They appeared almost like a dozen boney forearms linked one after the other, and ending in equally thin, almost skeletal hands that reached up as one to grip what looked to be a small man.

From where he was currently being held some five meters aloft Niklas was currently looking down and witnessing a nightmare image. For, emerging asymmetrically across the pileus of this horrid fungus were elements of some twisted human appearance: two disjointed eyes, a nose which jutted out at an odd angle near the peak, and a wailing mouth with crumbling yellow teeth which released from it a horrible moaning sound and breath which smelled of rotting meat.

The dozens of tiny fungi growing in the shadow of the main body had also now sprouted a yellowing bloodshot eye, or an equally terrible wide, yawning jaws, which shrieked shrilly, or lolled out snake-like black tongues, or gnashed their own few and jagged teeth, all in greedy anticipation of the coming feast.

Suddenly, a form broke through the surrounding tree cover to stand before that twisted creature and the hanging and helpless form of Niklas! It appeared to be a woman, and one who was quite large. She was not nearly as formidable as the Countess, mind you, but Niklas would wager she shared a similar height and wide frame as his eldest brother, and she was equally well-muscled to boot. Her skin was the deep, tanned copper color of a person with heritage originating from the southern countries, but her short, tomboyish hair was a strangely contrasting bright blonde that was nearly white at the tips.

“R-run away!” Niklas cried out in thought for her safety.

But at his warning the woman only grinned brightly, reminding him somewhat of Thomas, although she had a slightly more fearsome look about her. “Not to worry, sir, I’m a professional!”

She reached backwards then and clasped her hand upon the sword which hung from her back, which sported a hilt long enough to be held in two hands, but a blade short enough for it to be lifted with one hand Regardless of its odd make, she drew the thing from its scabbard to reveal it was made of a familiar black, iron-like material and had a wavy blade!

A Flamberge! Niklas realized, and a sudden hope warmed his heart. But how will she face such a large creature with such a small blade?

The woman hissed out a breath from between her clenched teeth, as if preparing for some great and taxing feat, and then lunged forward to strike a two-handed blow! She sunk her blade up to its base into the stalk of the Monster and cut through the gray, fleshy mass as easily as butter. The twisted face of the creature broke into an awful, ringing wail of pain, and it tipped over at the sudden loss of support from its “neck.” Niklas was sent tumbling down to the dirt, only avoiding injury due to the mess of spindly hands and arms which somewhat broke his fall. As the greater bulb fell completely upon its side, the wound billowed out with a plume of light smoke, as if the woman’s blade had somehow burned it from the inside!

Everything became chaos after that point. The hundred root-like hands lunged towards the swordswoman, while a hundred more of them burst up out of the ground of the forest all around them, revealing the true reach of this Mushroom Monster was much more vast than this simple, single patch. In response she held her weapon over her shoulder in a two-handed grip, so close that her right hand touched the corner of her jaw, and she then burst out into a great twirling blade dance which swiftly rent all of the grasping, bony hands and roots just as fast as they came!

Meanwhile, Niklas righted himself to a sitting position and looked about dizzily at the surrounding carnage. When he landed he had struck his head upon a tree root, and was not quite right from it. Before him there lay the great mushroom’s stalk fallen on its side, barely still connected to the earth by a thread of tissue, and its horrible face stared down at him, wide-eyed. It suddenly began to wriggle and spasm violently, inching its way towards him like a massive worm, gnashing its teeth and spattering about large droplets of drool, quite clearly hoping to sweep him up and devour him whole!

Niklas scrambled up, attempting to stand as best he could, but his equilibrium had been thrown off by his fall and his legs were completely numb from shock and fear! He whimpered out one last, terrified cry as the beast came nearly upon him. But then, the stranger came to his rescue once again!

The woman had twirled and danced through the tangle of grasping hands and screaming, hungry baby-stalks with a violent grace, and she then brought her weapon down upon the writhing mass with all the force of a guillotine, finally disconnecting its cap in full! The creature came to a final, grim halt mere inches from Niklas’ feet, its eyes lifelessly lolling in opposite directions, and its massive tongue slumped limply over its swollen gums and disgusting teeth. Finally, the thing was dead.

Niklas sat back propped up upon his arms, huffing and perspiring from fright in the aftermath of the battle. His eyes welled up with tears which began to stream down his face, but strangely enough, rather than a sob, what came out from him now was a laugh. It was a great, heaving deep belly-laugh which rang out between his shaky exhaled breaths and sniffling, wet inhales. He couldn’t believe he was still alive!

The swordswoman stood before him and stuck the tip of her blade by her feet, theatrically holding the hilt of her weapon at an angle like a cane. She grinned brightly down at him then as the dawn broke behind her and began to limn the scenery in gold. “Pleasure to meetcha, my good sir!”