What in the name of the gods... Trier had always been a peaceful city. A picturesque blending of the northern forests and the temperate weather of the western sea. Rolling fields, villas and fertile farmlands stretching out in every direction for as far as the eye could see. There hadn't been a raid in over two centuries, after the seawall had been built to keep the orcs out. And yet here it was, sacked and barren.
It lay scarcely a few hundred miles west of Amistad, just south of Baccia's western border. A fine city of villas and clay tiled roofs, healthy trade and the wineries it was famous for. It wasn't walled, but the border was constantly watched by the banners and charters alike ensuring not much existed in the way of threat.
Raids here were unheard of. Baccian's might be troublemakers, but they didn't attack the empires. To do so would be suicide, and they had enough enemies among the constantly squabbling successor states as it was. Trier was a small city that was considered too safe to need anything resembling a proper defense, built into the hills in close clusters of buildings with a few humble gates splitting the roadways instead. Being a Varian city, the investigation of what had happened was sent out as soon as they'd abruptly lost contact.
“Who could have done such a thing?” Willis asked, her second in command. His face was pensive and disturbed, thick brows furrowed in observation of everything they were seeing. The city before them bathed in hues of violet and orange as the sun began to set below the horizon. Just enough light to see the... Frankly, they didn't know what they were seeing.
They called themselves the Order of the Blue Rose. Of the many extra-national knightly organizations that operated all over the known world, one of the largest and most well regarded at that. A predominately female organization with a simple goal. To maintain the standards of true chivalry and to defend the weak. Here in Varia, seeing them patrolling the countryside in maintenance of their charter was common. People were sick? Their paladins could help with that. A monster? Their knights could handle that. But this... Lina wasn't sure how to process the situation, but she remained quiet until she could learn more.
It was odd. Orcs killed for the fun and joy of it. Most tribes would only kill the men, taking the women and children as slaves – but it depended. Some tribes refrained from the practice entirely, a diverse people not so easily stereotyped. But as far as Lina knew, they didn't partake in the eating of human flesh. To eat that which possessed independent thought was considered by many races to be taboo, and while she'd spent very little time speaking with their kind, she was confident they would feel the same.
Not that there was much in the way of remains indicating any people had been eaten... No monster spoor, no ransacked houses by first observation to indicate bandits or deserters. No traces of wild mana that might identify an apostate having used some forbidden ritual.
“Where are all the bodies...?” One of the knights in the rear asked softly. There were ample signs that some struggle had occurred here, more subdued than one would expect, however. Wares and tall stacks of coin sat untouched on the surface of shop counters and stalls. It was like... If not for some of the dislodged booths, doors kicked off their hinges or few roofs collapsed... Like everyone had just up and decided to leave as fast as they could. “Do you think it could've been Brotherhood slavers?”
“They'd have taken the gold.” Willis sniffed, his wide nostrils flaring to take it all in. Something was off about this place. Coins and all manner of valuable goods remained undisturbed. Except for bits of blood or places where a struggle had strewn the contents of crates about. But not a single corpse lay in the market square. Only a passing sign that there'd been any inhabitants in the city just hours earlier. The braziers were still warm, and...
“There's no food... Not even a single loaf of bread?” Willis mused, the only places torn up were the cantina and inns. There were barrels marked for grains and not a single oat lay in the bottom. Corded bits of twine to denote wheat and barely lay loose on the ground...
“...But why?” Lina asked. “Who raids a city for all of its food?”
Food was incredibly common in Varia. Farming was subsidized because without it, many people would be plain unemployed and aimless in life. With magic, things because too easy, it was too simple to have a bloomer or a mage comfortable with light magic to make entire fields of crops sprout. Dimensional storage items could suspend surplus forever, theoretically. That which was inside would never rot. The market for food was artificial and highly regulated. Prices were fixed and while it was a solution to the problem regarding employment, it led to another. There was too much of it near everywhere, and every season the overflow was sent to the black hole known as Dorian, the capital and home of all things taxation. In any event, it was like raiding a palace to rob buckets of dirt from its gardens.
Starvation was exceptionally rare, and even beggars ate for free in Varia. Only prepared food or artisan dishes costed money due to the service and labor surcharges. The minimum at which a dish could be offered was fixed by the local guilds. A double edged sword. Population exploded and quality of life would improve, but without that control it would have ruined the peasantry. As a pseudo feudal empire, Varia couldn't have that. There needed to be a way to things, a hierarchy to men, or everything would fall apart within a generation.
“It smells like wet ass in here...” Tual commented, wrinkling his nose. Mildew, like wet wood in the process of rot. An overly strong scent of loamy earth hung in the air, not a very pleasant one either. It was ripe and pungent, with an undertone to it that made them want to spit. Something sticky and sweet. The soil in this region was clay rich, dense and red, it retained water well and it wasn't a wet region by any means. Aqueducts saw to the transit of water from the higher hills and into culverts or reservoirs if not back down to the small river just to the south.
“I say we go. Leave it for the legions.” Lina shook her head slowly, eyes squinted and befuddled beyond belief. They departed with lowered brows and vigilant gazes, every second growing more confused. Everywhere was silence. Border wars or conflicts between local lords every once in a while. It would leave men dead and dying and shitting themselves in fear, forced to confront their own mortality. Women wailing and children crying. But here... War was loud and filthy, this place was quiet and almost sterile.
No birds chirping in the sky. Not a rat in the streets, a dog or a horse. Livestock pens present in the market were bare, all ajar. Oddly enough, even the hay and feed that they might've chewed on was all gone as well. Along with the manure, leaving only dirt and dust behind.
I see. Lina cursed inwardly, turning back about with a steely look. A mage, it had to be a mage. There was a reason why the twin empires treated them like the future threat they were. To live with mana and no god to guide you was to bring doom, to become a walking weapon with no compunction for just behavior. Temptation twisted them and made them foul things. They'd feel strong and ever so important in the tiny villages they came from until they were confronted with the depths of magical society. This would twist them further at times.
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Their greed and need to return to that feeling of power, to be unique again. Looking in places they should not. Her order wasn't commonly called on to hunt mages. Their call was to serve and slay monsters where necessary, aiding in the defense against the horrors crawling out of the successor states. Most of the guild proper typically specialized in disaster relief, being a large collection of water mages and practiced healers. In the not so distant past, what with Hastur's action that had caused no end to trouble on the border, they'd been very busy of late.
Despite being a mage herself, she claimed no kinship to them. Willis was a paladin as well, and they'd been together near her entire life. Like an adoptive father. He had taught her to love and respect the light, to revere Nyx and her rivers that nourished the land. Leading her to commission as a paladin herself, squired and spurred under his gentle yet stern hand. Someone chartered by the church and allowed to walk free from the confines of the Varian colleges.
“I've got a bad feeling about this.” Someone groaned. The smell grew thicker the deeper their horses carried them into the city. Beasts trained for war, but even they seemed nervous. House plants hanging from eaves were dry and lifeless, crunching into dust at the slightest touch. Eventually, however, they found it, that first sign of life.
The central square between the keep of the marquis and the church. Where citizens would gather for official meetings, balls and festivals. Or executions, depending on the day. A wide plaza of flat stone at the apex of the terraced hill the city was built on.
“Contact.” Willis whispered, thumbing the blade of his axe absentmindedly. His instincts told him something was wrong here, but the people poking their head with fearful eyes out of the windows of the church were just that. People, the common humans one would find anywhere else in the world. Staring at him like he was some kind of monster, their frightful eyes and pale faces.
He wanted to spit, but he'd refrain. Dwarves like him were common enough in the empire, but he'd always receive furtive glances. Varia was like that sometimes. Not so tolerant, though they'd been stable friends to the dwarves for time immemorial. The duality of man was to only forget their predisposition toward the 'inhuman' during times of struggle and strife. They'd ask for help, his kind would come, and they'd go right back to glaring at him within a generation. The memories of man were short but he'd made his peace with that long ago.
“...I guess they're fine?” Lina drew her rapier, following his lead as a stout axe was dragged from its resting place on his saddle. Dismounting, Willis cupped his hand before calling out to them.
“We are the knights of the Blue Rose!” He shouted, a deep and authoritative voice, one of experience and wisdom. “We mean you no harm, we've come in response to a call for aid, you're safe now!” His words caught in his throat, coughing violently, all of the dust in the air making it hard to breathe. Lina ran over to him with concern plain on her face, resting a hand on his pauldron. “I'm fine.” He waved her away. “Dry throat is all, must be getting old.” He grinned, wiping spittle from his lips and taking the wineskin offered him. It was warm, tasting of vinegar, but it did the job. Clearing his throat, he lowered his thick brow at the notable lack of response from the chapel.
All he could hear were hushed and anxious whispers coming from these people they'd been ordered to locate. Job done, they were to escort them free of the 'danger zone' until a proper unit could make their way out here.
“Oi! I said--!”
“We heard you! Now shut your mouth, dwarf!” A bishop hissed from the balustrade above the door, making an anxious chopping motion of his throat. “Get out of here, now!”
“Awfully high strung for a church man, talking to a sergeant and paladin like that...” Lina frowned, returning the bishops glare back at him. They were all church men, no need for that kind of vitriol.
“...Hmm?” The bishop was pointing to the keep and gesturing madly, no longer intent to yell. Even at this distance, Willis was well capable of picking out the mans bloodshot eyes and hands trembling over his holy symbol, the clenched fist of Bumi. The mountain king and he who protected the land from the depredations of the sea. “Well, better safe than sorry.” He sighed in agitation at the mans odd behavior, looking to Lina. “Wards?”
“None. No life at all except those in the church...” Divination was common among battlemages, to expand the senses and see all around you. She waved her hands in the air, chanting spell after spell – only to come up with absolutely nothing. No wards, no signs of life, not even a blank spot in the mana common when one shrouded themselves against detection. Everything was peaceful and quiet, but there was a pulsing to the earth. Water mana was thicker than it should be here, so she checked for elementals or monsters next...
“And?”
“Nothing. An overabundance of water and earth mana but nothing that would declare it's been used in a casting...” She replied in confusion, bending down to the earth and planting her hand flat against the paved stones, her expression screwing up like she'd tasted something sour. “...Nothing at all. Then why...?””
Why is the ground so dry...? Elemental mana always sat in a balance appropriate to the environment. Water around the ocean, that was just common sense. Or lakes and rivers. Trier was landlocked but it wasn't uncommon to feel something from the water table or any underground springs. The problem was... There was far too much of it and none of the telltale signs that would indicate such a thing making sense.
“I feel it too, something is wrong and that stench in the air is making me sick to my stomach.” Willis observed, letting his axe rest on his shoulder and marching to the keep. The gates were swung wide open on their hinges. Every inch of the ironoak portal was covered in a thin layer of moisture. “What's this?” He asked her. She was captain now despite being his junior, a position earned because of her talent. That of magic, critical thought and problem solving, she was an exceptional youth and bound to make commander one day. Willis had some knowledge of the runes, but he was a dwarf. Human runes behaved differently than his own, though he was absolutely confident these were runes of shielding and protection, able to read them just fine to make the obvious observation.
Something had eaten away at them. Organic matter lay in the clefts of the door, devoured them like termites, leaving them powerless and destroying the enchantment. There were no signs of any sword, axe, or battering ram used to break them down, no lingering mana from a spell either. She cast one of her own and came up short of identifying how this was possible. There were certain people with a talent for breaking spells and enchantments, but there would always be signs left behind.
According to her spells, the last time humans had stepped before the gate it had been in a relatively orderly line headed directly for the church. Uneven to signify their anxiousness, but every single footstep was human. Trier lay near enough the successor state to be fairly diverse as far as Varia went. She was aware that there were demi-humans in the marquis employ, at least. None of which had left the place.
“We should go.” She grabbed Willis by the shoulder. “This is beyond us, the only thing that makes sense is that a powerful mage came through here. One capable of shrouding his spells and movements beyond the level four standard... An archmage, maybe. While it's likely they are gone, we can't handle that if they haven't. And if they left traps, I might not be able to sense them in time. We have the citizens and they appear to be safe...”
“It's our duty.” Willis was gruff, leaving no room for argument and blatantly disobeying her command. A typical captain would balk at the insubordination, but Willis was Willis, and so they followed without question. He was one of the oldest veterans in their order, and a father figure to Lina. The man who had raised her to be who she was today. There was a sort of common sense in relying on the instinct of veterans over the established hierarchy.
“What in the name of the...”