9.

They found the remnants of the Emperor’s party hours later. The sun was creeping further up the horizon, spilling its warmth and light over the road that wove through the forest. It allowed Erak a clear view of the devastation brought upon the Imperial part. Corpses were sitting bloated and chewed on, their rich clothes torn apart and scattered about.

Royal guards were laying strewn about, casters laying strewn about where they had fallen. A palanquin was tipped on its side, the heavy wood cracked open and the delicate silks dirty and befouled. Wide muddy footprints that matched the werewolves from earlier traced their way back and forth over the road. There had been a fierce fight, but the low-level guards had lacked the Essence cultivation to hold the line. Or the brutality to overpower the wolves natural healing.

Sammus worked his way through the dead, turning shoulders and peering at waxen faces as he tried to piece together who was who. Erak peered into the palanquin and saw there was no one there. Most of the dead looked like guardsmen or courtiers, none having the royal sigil on their clothes.

“I don’t see my father's personal guard here. Royal guards, yes, but not his personal protection detail.”

“The Palanquin?" Erak asked.

“Father is old, but he’s not that old. Elvish blood will keep him young and hale and he is not the sort to be carried about. Probably one of his mistresses or even an aging noble, maybe. Don’t see other house sigils here though,” Sammus turned a corpse over with his foot and grimaced.

“This one here, he’s a courtier. But normally he stays around my brother Nathaniel. This may not have been father’s retinue but Nathaniel’s.”

“The First Prince?”

“Yes. The heir apparent. He is vain enough for a palanquin and lazy enough to use it. He wouldn’t stray far from my father though. He practically lives in father’s shadow these days.”

Erak left the scene of the massacre and started working his way in ever widening circles as he looked for tracks that he could use. The fighting had spiraled out and away from the scene of the fight, several dead guardsmen scattered in pieces in the woods.

For an hour he and Pomp searched while Sammus had extricated himself from the remnants of the battle and stood a ways away from the fight, waiting patiently and without a word as Erak looked.

He found the hint he was looking for deep into the second hour. A half footprint in the ground on the forest floor paralleling the road. It was some type of soft slipper, lacking the clear ridges that he was used to seeing in good footwear. The tracks led further down the road, away from where the main pleasure villa had been.

Erak waved over for Sammus to follow him and started down the road. He kept to the forest, the manicured woods nothing more than a facsimile of a true wildland. Every few long strides Erak saw another piece of evidence of someone having been this way. Only one set of footprints that led further and further away from the fight.

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When the road split, branching off in three directions, it took Erak another hour to find where the next sign was. A handprint on the ground where someone had fallen, gouges in the soft loamy forest floor. It was the thinnest of the roads, well maintained but only wide enough for a single vehicle.

“You don’t know how to get to the Dragon House?” Erak asked.

“My father would never invite me to these things. Honestly it is a bit perturbing that he’d invite any of his children to the villa out here. And the Dragon House was a private house. I doubt anyone was invited there besides his personal guards and valets,” Sammus explained.

“No, would have been a sufficient answer,” Erak said. They continued on, further and further away from the city, trails of smoke still rising from its burning. The roads grew smaller, but never failed to keep their well maintained nature. The forest began to grow more wild, the meticulous nature of the Royal Wardens not seen. Erak was forced out of the thick brambles eventually and onto the road, wet footprints on the road just as good as a neon sign.

“Any other time, I would never come down a road like this. It’s a good way to get murdered,” Sammus said with a bit of humor.

“What do you mean?” Erak asked.

“Creepy road in the middle of a forest? This is the plot of a horror story,” Sammus explained.

“You are showing your urban roots. You should see the Northern Ice, this could be a major road out there.” Erak signed as he turned to look at the young prince. The prince laughed quietly as they kept going.

As the sun reached the midday mark they came upon an ornate gate that blocked the road. It was black iron, with different types of ornate dragons along the top. The gate was ajar, split in the middle and easy to pass through. Erak twisted as he passed by them, keeping his head on a swivel.

Past the gates the road was lined with moss and ivy, covering the red brick in thick vegetation. The woods thickened, brambles and ivy covering the forest floor so thick it became impassable. The footsteps disappeared, having been slowly fading as they went further and further down the road.

“This is getting worse and worse,” Sammus commented.

Pomp finally crawled out Erak’s armor, still exhausted from the fights through the night. The wispy dragon spun about on his shoulders to look back at Sammus.

“You should have been in the sewers with us and your sister. That was truly a horror inducing situation.”

“I try to make it a life goal never to travel through sewers. Then again, I also had the same thoughts about haunted forests. Or cursed forests. Honestly, I don’t really like forests.”

Erak stopped and turned to look at the elvish prince. Sammus shrugged his shoulders at him and just kept walking. Erak and Sammus continued along the road until they came to the Dragon House.

The forest bordered it on all sides, pressing against the sides of the villa. It was small and quaint, for a villa. A single story of dark marble, draconic gargoyles perched over the entrance of the double doors of stained red.

Nothing moved around the entrance of the villa. No bodies or signs of violence to disturb the peace. The house looked more abandoned than anything. Erak walked carefully toward it, keeping his eyes peeled for anything that moved while Sammus drew his own sword and reached for the wide handle of the doors which kept to the same theme as the rest of the house. A dragon’s skull, lips pulled back to show dagger teeth.

The young prince pushed down on the dragon skull, the heavy locks clunking in the door. It didn’t creak open, rather opening silently on oiled hinges. The dark interior had red flickering light from somewhere in the depths that gave some hints of the interior.

“We’re getting murdered for sure,” Sammus said as he walked into the depths.