The trees blocking off the Treant’s dungeon were bigger than those in the surrounding forest. Even with the path as overgrown as it was, it was easy to find by looking between the trees once we started getting closer.

Just like Athir, the trees were pushed together to form a wall. There were spaces in between, but the resulting holes were so small that you could barely fit an arrow through it. It allowed adventuring parties to do some reconnaissance on the interior at the cost of time. Since such an action was assumed, the Treants were allowed to make their dungeon a little more dangerous.

Unfurling the map I had taken from the Department of Dungeon archives, I stopped just outside of the entrance. Thanks to the powers the Dungeon Master bestowed on me, I could see the red dots indicating the enemies inside. It was a short distance ability that got better when the map was of higher quality, and I enjoyed the chance to use it.

I may not have agreed to it being thrust on me, but I wasn’t about to spurn it when it was useful.

Ferrisdae looked over my shoulder, and I let her. We watched as the Treants inside lumbered about. The only information we received was their location, so we couldn’t be sure what they were doing. Regardless, it didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary was going on.

“Go ahead and use the Doorknocker,” I said, keeping an eye on the map.

“Can do,” Ferrisdae replied as she reached into her Dimensional Pocket.

The Dungeon Doorknocker was a three foot long black rod. They were only issued to those who saw the administrative side of dungeons such as Inspectors, union representatives, and those who were part of the supply chain. Ferrisdae walked up to the entrance to the dungeon and swung it hard against one of the trees making up the end of the wall.

We heard no sound, not even the thud of metal on wood, but I saw the red dots all stop moving the moment she struck. What happened next confused me.

Most of the dots turned black, which indicated neutrality, but a few remained red. Those started running towards the entrance only to be held back by the others.

“Something’s wrong,” I told Ferrisdae as she returned.

“What’s going on?” she asked, confused.

I gestured towards the map. “Not everyone became friendly when they heard the Doorknocker. Most, sure, but the black side is holding back the red from coming our way.”

“They could be under the same kind of affliction as the one that attacked Athir,” Ferrisdae offered. “Maybe they’re not in control of themselves thanks to whatever disease this is.”

“It’s possible."

We watched as the black dots made a wall between the entrance and the reds. It took a few minutes before anyone came out to greet us, but given the circumstances I wasn’t going to complain. I would rather be met with a cordial group than the alternative.

Two of the dungeon’s denizens walked into view, and I felt Ferrisdae grip my shoulder at the sight of them.

Normally, the average Treant would be anywhere between twelve to eighteen feet tall. The ones in this area were topped with thick red leaves with dark brown bark. Faces that could pass as ugly Humans sat high above their thick, limb-like arms, and their legs were made up of a sprawling mess of long roots. They weren’t very agile, but they were deceptively fast chargers.

What approached us were obviously afflicted with some sort of malady. A vast majority of their rich bark was white and dying, and they had a few black leaves falling off of their heads with every step. Their root legs stumbled and wobbled as they headed this way. It was no surprise to see them holding onto the inanimate trees and keeping themselves steady with their hands.

“Should we help?” Ferrisdae whispered.

“That’s what we’re here for, but not yet” I whispered back before pulling out my Department of Dungeons badge. “Hello! I am Dungeon Inspector Badger, and this is Junior Dungeon Inspector Ferrisdae. Are we welcome to come in?”

The taller of the two stopped first, causing the shorter to do the same, and gestured us forward. “You are welcome to enter the Red Thicket, Inspectors,” the tall Treant called in slow, drawling Elven.

“Now we go,” I replied in Elven, which I could speak much more fluently than I could read or write. I walked through the entrance. Ferrisdae let go of my shoulder, and I folded the map in half even though I had no intention of putting it away just yet.

The Treants waited patiently for us to approach, and we stopped at what I would normally consider a safe distance. With their towering forms shaking slightly as they held themselves steady, it didn’t seem appropriate to stand close enough that we couldn’t dodge out of the way if they fell. Even from here, I could smell an unpleasant, sickly sweet aroma coming off of them both.

“I am Sapmore,” the taller Treant said. Their voice was deep, though weak and strained with grief. “My companion is Maplewell. We are overjoyed by your arrival and come to greet you on the behalf of Grandfather Red. How are you doing today?”

“We’re doing just fine, though I’d find myself hard pressed to say the same about you two,” I answered honestly. “We came here to investigate the rising mortality rate of adventurers coming through the Red Thicket, but it looks like we’ve come across something more dire than that.”

The Treants looked at each other before Sapmore sighed. “We sent Leafstill to visit Athir in the hopes of contacting the Green Union, but they never returned. I am glad to see that our message made it to you. And that you were able to make it so quickly.”

“We never got any message,” Ferrisdae said sadly. “Leafstill… never made it.”

“More accurately, Athir was attacked by a corrupted Treant,” I said. My bluntness earned me a glare from Ferrisdae. I ignored it. “That was probably Leafstill.”

“Oh. Oh no,” Sapmore sighed, lowering their head. “Leafstill appeared to be the healthiest of us all, but to be so far gone as to attack the city of Elves… That is a shame.”

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“We came here for other business, but we certainly can’t overlook this,” I said. “Is Grandfather Red well enough for visitors?”

Maplewell spoke this time, their voice a higher pitch than Sapmore’s though not by much. “No, Grandfather Red has fallen into a deep slumber. We haven’t been able to wake him in at least a week.”

I glanced up at Ferrisdae. “You’d think that would be something Cojisto would find worth mentioning,” I said disapprovingly. “I’m going to have a really long talk with him on what I expect his performance to look like.”

My junior coughed into her fist and looked up at the two. “Cojisto is the man with the moose companion,” she explained. “He’s checking dungeons ahead of us.”

“I remember them,” Sapmore said, their nods threatening to throw themself off balance. “But don’t punish him too harshly. Grandfather Red still fights, just no longer consciously. Much like some other members of the Thicket. It is because of this disease.”

“What are you all afflicted with?” Ferrisdae asked.

“Why didn’t you try to talk to Cojisto?” I asked at the same time. “Answer her first, then me.”

Sapmore looked at both of us before settling on my companion. “Thanks to the wisdom of Grandfather Red, we believe it is a parasitic fungus known as Rage Rot,” they explained. “It sends those of us who have succumbed to it into a blind rage. We don’t attack each other, but others. Healing it is beyond our capabilities, which is why we sent for help.”

I nodded as I heard them explain about the Rage Rot. It was a terrible thing for sentient plants to succumb to. Like its name suggested, it had a chance to send them into a berserker frenzy at the first sign of combat. They could struggle against it, but there was always a chance for them to fall into that rage and never come out. That was probably why the red dots remained red.

Still, it made sense that the mortality rate would go up for a time. If they were stronger than normal, then the usual adventurers that would come this way wouldn’t have been up for the spike in difficulty. When Rage Rot first appeared, it would have gave the Treants a boost much like adrenaline would do for us, but the longer it lasted the worse they would get.

Until they ended up like this, shaking from simply walking to greet us. Rage Rot always ended up taking more than it gave.

“And you didn’t try to ask Cojisto for help?” I asked. “Under dire circumstances, which I would certainly say this is, the dungeon rules allow for asking assistance.”

“We tried, but only Grandfather Red speaks the Imperial Standard,” Maplewell answered. “He couldn’t understand us.”

“I’m guessing Moose doesn’t know Elven either, then,” I muttered.

“Would it?” Sapmore asked, brows furrowed.

“It’s more likely than you’d think,” I said with a sigh before shaking my head. “All right, so you couldn’t talk to Moose or Cojisto, that makes sense. But what about any adventuring parties that came before them? Surely there had to be someone that spoke Elven.”

The Treants looked at each other. “Has it been… two weeks?”

“Closer to three or four, I think,” Maplewell responded.

“There hasn’t been anyone coming to your dungeon for nearly a month?” Ferrisdae asked incredulously. I was confused as well; there certainly hadn't been any information about the Red Thicket shutting down recently. “What happened?”

Sapmore shrugged, his bark creaking as they hastened to steady themself. “We are unsure of the time frame. They came every other day, as expected, but then the adventurers stopped. We have not had contact with anyone since then.”

“It was a little after the Rage Rot appeared,” Maplewell added. “Before then, Grandfather Red told us all to bear with it, that it would make us physically stronger before it started to weaken us. It was nearly time for a union representative to come visit, and he was planning on lodging a formal request for aid then.”

“But no one came,” Ferrisdae guessed.

“That is one of the reasons we are in this predicament, yes,” Sapmore confirmed. “But that man, Cojisto, didn’t take any of the magical crystals that have accumulated in that time. We can use those to bring Treesingers to come heal us, so long as his share of it is forfeit with his departure.”

I frowned, but didn’t question why Cojisto left a gold mine behind. “It is. I’ll make sure that my junior here returns with Treesingers and druids to help restore you to your former glory. That’s our top priority. Ferrisdae, you're to protect them while they work.”

“While you go and check out the Dark Elf Quarry?” she asked. It looked like she was ready to cross her arms, but refrained from doing so.

“No, that can wait,” I told her, shaking my head. “While you’re doing this, I’m going to have to look into the Adventurer’s Consortium and the Green Union to figure out what’s going on. They both have a large presence in Athir. If the Red Thicket hasn’t been receiving visitors, then there’s someone who’s marked the dungeon as off limits. I intend to find out who and why.”

Ferrisdae shuffled closer to me, leaning down. “Can the quarry really wait?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I answered firmly. “We have time before the big event, but it's not as though we're squandering it. It’s not a waste to do our job, and whatever is happening here could be connected with everything else.”

She frowned. “And if either of us run into trouble?”

I snorted. “Then may the gods have mercy on anyone who thinks either of us are easy targets,” I answered. Ferrisdae looked surprised before giving me a stern nod. Satisfied, I looked up at Sapmore. “Gather the magic crystals and we’ll use them for whatever the Treesingers desire. If it won’t pay for everything, then we’ll make sure the rest is paid for by the Department of Dungeons or, hopefully, the Green Union.”

“Do as the Inspector says, Maplewell,” Sapmore instructed, causing the other Treant to nod and turn around. He hurried away. “There is one more piece of information that may be relevant to your investigation.”

“Anything will help,” I said.

“None of us saw anyone when we investigated, but shortly before Grandfather Red fell asleep, he was speaking to the wind,” the Treant offered, speaking in a hushed tone as if trying not to let anyone but us hear. “It sounded like a heated argument, but only from his side. He wasn’t speaking the language of the forest, so all we understood was his tone. When the Father Guard went to his side, there was no one, though they swore they heard laughter. That was when we discovered his slumber.”

“Do you think it was madness caused by the Rage Rot? Or something else?” Ferrisdae asked.

Sapmore shook. “We do not know. The story changes with every retelling as the Father Guard become closer to losing themselves. Even now, the memory of it is fuzzy in my own mind.”

“Thank you, Sapmore,” I said. “We’ll get this taken care of right away. With luck, we should be able to get the Red Thicket back in good health by this time tomorrow.”

“Your words soothe me, Dungeon Inspector Badger,” the Treant said, grief somewhat lifting from their voice. “Junior Dungeon Inspector, we await your return.”

“I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” she replied, nodding.

Rolling the map back up, I stuck it in my Pocket as I turned to leave. Ferrisdae was quick to follow, and we heard Sapmore amble away.

“Don’t worry, Ferrisdae, we’re going to help them,” I said once I noticed her fist shaking at her side. “That’s what we do.”

“The Green Union should be glad that you’re the one going to visit them,” she responded with a surprising amount of vitriol in her voice. “I’m not sure if I’d be able to hold myself back. Their negligence so far has been infuriating.”

“They’re absolutely going to get what’s coming to them,” I said, resting a hand on her arm. “That’s a promise.”