THE AFTERMATH
The grassy plains stretched endlessly beneath the morning sun, golden light casting long shadows over the land.
But the wind carried a foul stench.
Death.
Two figures walked carefully between piles of rotting corpses. The remains of monsters scattered across the field like discarded toys.
A towering ogre lay with its skull crushed inward.
A dire wolf was torn in half, entrails spilling across the dirt.
Swarming insects had been burned into black husks, their remains scattered like ash.
The entire area was a graveyard of beasts.
The two men. Two wandering adventurers stopped at the center of the carnage. Their boots sinking slightly into the blood-soaked grass.
One of them, a swordsman, crouched and nudged a fallen troll’s corpse with his boot. “This… doesn’t make sense.”
The other, a mage, ran a gloved hand through his hair, eyes scanning the battlefield. “What the hell happened here?”
The swordsman stood, frowning. “A battle?”
“With who?” the mage countered. “There aren’t any human corpses. No weapons. No signs of organized combat.” He gestured at the way the bodies were positioned.
“All these monsters… killed each other.”
Silence.
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The swordsman exhaled sharply. “That’s not normal.”
“No. It’s not.”
They stared at the field of corpses, at the sheer scale of destruction.
Something unnatural had happened here.
And someone had caused it.
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BUSINESS RESTORED
Far away from the monster-strewn plains, Isaac stood in a quiet alleyway in Eldermere. Arms crossed as he faced a group of merchants.
Nervous-looking traders, familiar clients, and old contacts.
Some had hesitated to return after the Iron Hounds' interference.
Now?
They just needed reassurance.
Isaac leaned casually against the wall, his featureless mask giving away nothing as he spoke.
“It’s over.”
The merchants exchanged glances.
One of them, a portly man with a gold-trimmed coat, cleared his throat. “Are you… sure? The Iron Hounds-”
Isaac held up a hand.
“They won’t be a problem.”
A pause.
Then one of the younger traders exhaled in relief. “So… business can resume?”
Isaac nodded.
“Freely. No interruptions.”
The merchants visibly relaxed.
The blockade that had nearly choked their supply routes was gone.
The economy could breathe again.
The portly man adjusted his coat. “You have my gratitude, Courier. I assume your rates will remain the same?”
Isaac tilted his head, amused.
“My rates are always fair.”
A few chuckles. A few relieved nods.
With that, the meeting dispersed.
Business was back.
And so was his money.
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COUNTING GOLD
Isaac sat on the edge of a rooftop, legs crossed, a heavy pouch of coins in his hands.
The weight. The sound. The pure satisfaction.
He poured the gold coins into his palm, watching them glint under the midday sun.
The Iron Hounds had tried to cut him off.
Now?
They had been cut out entirely.
Trade was flowing again.
His network was intact.
And most importantly,
He had more gold than he could count.
Isaac chuckled, tossing a coin into the air and catching it effortlessly.
Everything was right again.
And he had a feeling this was just the beginning.