A few hundred kilometers north of the village of Nostrum was the Forensian Plain, a grassy swamp between the southern and northern oceans. The road cutting through to the twin cities ran along the coast of the Mouth Sea overlooking the Teeth Islands. Lobar moved faster than most horses, only slowing down when they approached the wooden barricades blocking the trade road. An encampment so large that it could be a city of its own accord housed several toll stations and checkpoints. Stalled carriages, carts, and travelers on foot waited to pay the tolls and receive inspection of their goods.

Inland, tucked against a small forest was a high wooden fence surrounding the inner compound. Outside the gates, on once barren grass fields stretching towards the shore, were barracks, scattered wooden dwellings, improvised straw huts, stables, and slews of dirty linen tents. Groli rode Lobar’s back past the checkpoints without being stopped. The toll collectors and the inspectors employed by Lord Sarsin paid them no mind. Men marched in formations over empty fields.

Armored pikemen mulled about the encampments with their spears at their sides. Five freshly constructed catapults hitched to teams of horses passed on a freshly flattened road. On an especially long field, fifty horsemen practiced wielding axes and swords from horseback. Groli commanded Lobar to stop as they approached the wooden gates of the center compound. The forbiddingly high wood logs were painted dull red. Groli climbed behind Lobar’s head, then wrapped his legs gently around the troll’s neck before he put his hand to his mouth and yelled to the tower guard.

“I have business with Lord Sarsin! News from Poison Leaf!”

“Wait here, we’ll need permission to let you in.”

Groli grumbled but hopped off Lobar and let him sit to the side of the path. No sooner than the troll’s butt hit the grass he heard an annoying voice. It was the robed men they had promised to help escort and had already accepted payment from. Eyes clenched shut as Groli rubbed his face.

“Caught you!” said the green robed man, “We hired you for safe passage to the Twin Cities but you vanished. I demand compensation!”

Groli growled as he reached into a satchel at Lobar’s side, “We were caught in some misfortune. I’ll give you your tethers back. Ten gold it was.”

“My friend was robbed of goods worth two hundred gold tethers and I was robbed fifty gold tethers by bandits because of your failure. I hold you responsible for half the total sum plus your fee. One-hundred and thirty-five gold tethers in total.”

Groli threw two gold tethers at their feet, “I’m not paying you that! Why don’t you go and join Lord Sarsin’s army? That should help you buy your gear.”

The man in green robes didn’t hesitate to pick up the gold but the other stomped his feet, “We’re not leaving your side until we are escorted safely to the Twin Cities! You don’t know who we are. We are wizard acolytes and we will have this debt settled.”

The gate opened.

“Suit yourself,” Groli mumbled as he hoped on Lobar.

The guards let them pass without a hassle. The men in robes didn’t hesitate to follow. Long weeds grew against wooden sheds to the side of the inner wall. Stone lanterns adorned the path. A small wooden palace faced them. On the pavilion, before the front entrance, a woman in a trailing red kimono watched. An uchiwa depicting dragons and demons in battle on a mountainous landscape cooled her skin as it delicately fluttered.

"It’s you,” she brushed aside a lock of oily black hair across her forehead, “I suppose you want to see the Lord. Who are your companions?”

“Is this the palace of the great Lord Sarsin?” said the green robed man, “How disappointing. You! Woman! You disrespect us! Either kneel quietly or retrieve your lord.”

Stolen story; please report.

Lobar moaned.

“Be quiet, you knaves, have respect for Lady Forscythe,” Groli whispered, then spoke up to the lady, “We would like to report to Sarsin, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble my lady.”

“I’ll take you in,” she pointed to the imp-man, “The troll and those two fools must wait.”

“Another western woman with a superiority complex. Did Lord Sarsin import you for his harem? Did he forget to train you properly in the ways the free -oooooof!”

A battered hand stuck out of the red stained dirt. It clawed at the ground leaving streaks of red before it stopped moving. Large beads of sweat formed on the brows of Groli, Lobar, and the blue robed man. But the man stepped forward and threw off his robes. He wore waving blue pants tied by a red sash and a cool blue sleeveless shirt. His arms were defined by tight muscles. Snakes of fire rose from his back and hissed at the woman on the pavilion.

“Western witch! I’ll end you for this crime!”

Forsythe gazed upon the man with undisguised contempt and gently sway her fan. He burst in a fine red mist. Groli and Lobar dodged to the side so they didn’t get sprayed. The glare of contempt turned to them as she hid her mouth behind the fan.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t end you where you stand?”

Lobar’s jaw dropped as Groli cowered on his back, “Lobar go! Lobar go!”

Forscythe glared upon Lobar with the same undisguised contempt. Groli gave him pats and whispered in his ear, but her eyes turned a bright, glowing red. Her stare touched Lobar’s eyes and she smiled as his mouth dripped foam; he pounded his chest before rushing forward. Groli fell on his back with his legs tucked. As Lobar charged, she sliced the air in front of her with a long black fingernail. A whispered breath opened the ground as a hollow column of roughly hewn stone enclosed Lobar’s legs. Stone wrapped the troll’s body. It anchored him while growing over his form. Muffled grunts escaped the tiny breathing holes of a stone column.

“Lobar! Calm down!” Groli jumped around the rock formation, “See what happens when you’re disobedient to your betters. I tried to warn you, but you never listen, you dimwit.”

Lady Forscythe smiled, “Lord Sarsin won’t be kept waiting long.”

The doors creaked open. A man in a red silk robe patterned with flames walked to Forscythe’s side. The red sheath of his odachi matched his robes. Thick white Tabi socks sewn from cleaned cotton clung to his straw sandals. He stood as if the gap between his legs spanned the length of the world. A long pony tail of slick black ran down to the center of his back.

“Unless the wait is worthwhile,” Sarsin’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he smiled at the lady, “You were quite magnificent, let’s find out if the imp-man is worth his words today. If I find myself unsatisfied, you can toy with them as you please.”

Groli trembled behind the pillar entrapping Lobar, “That won’t be necessary! I have news from the Port of Reeds, and a communication from Old Wizard Bradox of the poison leaf.”

“What are you waiting for?”

Groli scurried towards the pavilion and nimbly climbed a straight wooden column. A besotted roll of paper from his leather vest dropped it in Sarsin’s palm. He read it, chuckled, and tore it to shreds as he turned to the lady, who directed a stare of disguised intentions at the sweaty imp-man.

“Bradox is coming undone,” Sarsin looked up at Groli, “What is the state of their defenses?”

“Pitiful, there are no men guarding the village wall, nor the entrance to the village. They have but one man who rides on horseback to keep an eye for threats. Lord Nostrum has a small guard, but none of his men are capable warriors. The village is ripe for your will.”

“Afraid to strike because of a little witch! Unbelievable! After all his bickering over the initial wait, he hesitates against my command because he’s afraid of a trinket! Imp-man, you will assist the attack on the Port of Reeds, accompanied by Captain Morgul and his horsemen. Their strength is far beyond whatever you could possibly need in the worst of circumstances. As for Bradox, you can use him as you wish, on the condition that he’s a casualty when the task is complete.”

“Sir,” Groli scampered down the pillar and hurried back behind the grunting rock formation, “What of our compensation?”

Sarsin stared at them with a wry smile. He went inside, and returned with a servant carrying a bag full of gold tethers. He tossed it at the imp-man’s feet.

“There’re five hundred gold tethers. Come back when Morgul is in command of the village of Reeds, and you’ll receive four times in addition.”

“Most generous!”

Sarsin nodded to Forscythe before returning to his castle. The quartz prison disintegrated from around Lobar as her fan waved. She stayed behind to watch as the two exited. The shredded paper of Bradox’s message floated to her open palm. The pieces compressed in her fist as she closed her eyes, waited, then released them into a strong breeze scattering them over the walls.

“Intriguing,” she licked her lips, “Let’s play together someday, little Nadia.”