The large manor sat on a small hill, overlooking a small village. In its heyday, it was one of the most beautiful buildings for miles around. Now, the once intricate stonework had all but faded away, eroded by the wind and sun. Paint was peeling in the places that it hadn’t been stripped bare and every window was boarded up, their panes having long since been broken. The naked branches of a tree rustled as the winter wind began to pick up. It was a cold day, made worse by the wind. John turned to his companions and neither seemed particularly eager to enter the house.

“Should we tell the Baron that we’ve decided not to do it?” Johnathan Stadley asked hopefully.

Grimald sighed. “Unless you can think of another way to get an introduction to King Frederick, I don’t see what choice we have.”

Udoriol frowned and pulled the hood that he was wearing to hide his ears back as he looked up at the manor. “It’s easy to see why this place has the reputation it does. Perhaps the villagers’ concerns are merely superstitions.”

“We could just burn the place down,” John offered.

“I don’t think that will get us into the Baron’s good graces,” Grimald pointed out. His disappointed tone indicated that he had given that course of action some consideration.

“Well then, shall we?” Udoriol suggested.

They started up the stone path that wound its way through a garden that had long since withered away. As they approached, the heavy wooden double doors creaked open, seemingly inviting them in.

“Must have been the wind,” Grimald muttered as John’s hair stood on end.

John took a deep breath. It was dark beyond the door, which looked like a gaping maw. He looked at the others. “Last chance to turn back.”

“Let’s go,” Grimald ordered as he gripped his axe in his hands. “Be alert.”

John shot the dwarf a look. “Weapons?”

The dwarf shrugged. “Can’t hurt to be careful.”

The young man looked over his shoulder at the village of Bartrie that sprawled out over the plains behind them. It was bisected by the River Arlan that meandered its way through The Darnosian heartlands before turning south and joining up with the Dorvia where it would ultimately flow into the Sarban Sea.

The manor they had been hired to investigate loomed over the village like a crumbling gargoyle and was the focal point of many local ghost stories. The villagers were scared. So scared in fact that they’d refused to come out and talk to the outsiders. The story the villagers had told the baron’s men was that they’d seen their fellow villagers walking the streets at night with a peculiar look about them. The villagers in question would be seen entering the manor shortly before dawn, never to be seen again. The story was that at least four had vanished under such circumstances.

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The stories had been dismissed as inconsequential by the baron, whose own men were busy hunting orcs in the Southern Expansion as part of the Army of the Four Kingdoms and so he had asked Grimald to investigate this place as a personal favour before the local peasantry burned the manor down as a personal favour.

“Why does the baron care if they burned this decrepit place to the ground again?” John muttered.

“His great grandfather was born in there or something,” Grimald replied.

John snorted. “I find it hard to believe that he cares about this place if he let it get into this condition.”

“We’re not here to speculate on his sincerity,” There was an edge to Grimald’s voice that told John that the dwarf was in no mood for banter. “We have a job to do, so let’s get it over with.”

John sighed and drew his daggers. Udoriol muttered a short prayer to Treto, and John felt his spirit lift, and his daggers shimmered with radiant light in his hand. He looked over at the elf who had his longsword and shield ready.

“What do you think we’ll find in there?” John asked.

The elf shrugged. “Remember the sewers of Corrington?”

A shiver went down John’s spine. “Fair enough,” he sighed and looked at the sky. “Then why are we doing this at dusk?”

“Because we just arrived, and you wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible,” Udoriol reminded him.

John scowled and Grimald broke into a grin. “We can wait until morning if that will make you feel better.”

John looked over his shoulder at the village again. It had been locked up tight when they arrived, and no one would speak to them. They would have to sleep rough if they were to wait. He looked back at the manor. The windows were boarded up, so the light would make little difference.

“I still think we should get this over with as quickly as possible.”

“I agree,” Grimald said, and cocked his head at Udoriol, indicating for the elf to take the lead.

Udoriol padded up the stone steps that lead to the front door, which he pushed open with his shield. He stepped cautiously into the house, holding his blazing sword in the air like a torch. Grimald followed quickly after, and John allowed some distance between him and the other two as he brought up the rear, so that he would have time to react if there were an ambush.

A chill ran through him as John stepped through the door and found himself in a parlour. The wood beams underfoot creaked under their weight as they filed in. The large items of furniture were covered in heavy canvas. Sunlight filtered in through gaps in the planks that boarded up the windows. The hairs on his neck stood on end as he felt eyes on him. He quickly looked around the room and jumped when he saw someone in the corner of his eye.

He turned and saw that it was a tarnished mirror. The canvas covering it had fallen off. It must have been blown off by the wind, John told himself. He then checked the dust covered floor and was relieved to see that the only footsteps were their own.

He exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath since he’d entered the house and turned to the others. “It looks like we’re the only ones who’ve been here in a while.”

“Let’s be careful all the same, eh?” Grimald was keeping his voice low, but it sounded as loud as rolling thunder in the silent house.

Feeling a little safer now, John’s mind involuntarily went to Sarah, and how glad he was that she wasn’t in this situation. Then came the pain. He missed her greatly and still wasn’t used to being apart from her and couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing.

He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for this. He had to trust that she would complete what she set out to do safely, even though she was travelling alone, something she had never done before. He had to focus on the present.

“We stick together,” Udoriol said, “And start with the lower floor.”

John nodded and jumped when the front door slammed shut. He looked back from the door to look at the others, and his blood froze. He was now alone and no longer standing in the parlour.