The attendant brought a full carriage outside the guild office. Rather than horses it looked to be drawn by giant pill bugs. Thin, papery shells rolled over their backs, and their faces stuck out, garbled and droopy, but surprisingly distinct. A blunt lobe hung over their pincers, making them appear bucktoothed. They looked silly behind the attendant’s carefully constructed face. Without any sort of neck, the short coachman up front held onto reigns tied through metal loops which had been jammed in their shields- a bit less silly considering what an ordeal that must have been for them.

Every supply that could be necessary was packed in a cart clipped to the back. It left the carriage itself open with the space needed to fit all five of them: George, Lestra, Donald, Andrew, and Randall.

Purple cushions softened the benches, but George made the mistake of going in second after Lestra. Almost immediately, Andrew followed in, leaving him squished in the middle of the crowded bench which could really only fit two and a half people.

The carriage went through the same supertunnel as they had in their first mission- not that George figured he could tell its arches apart from those of any other supertunnel. He knew because the way through the city was the same. He was proud of himself for recognizing that.

Memories of his first mission filled George’s legs with dread, traumatized from the endless walking. He wondered if the carriage would be able to take them through the whole mission. It would be impossible for it to fit through the kind of tight corridors they had to treck through before. If this mission was similar, they might have to proceed on foot before long. He looked out the back window at the loads of supplies towed behind them. What a pain it would be to lug all that around.

George’s eyes lit up and his feet calmed their anxiety when he saw the entrance to the next path. It was much different from the one they had gone through on the way to Vaaliya. Its slopes were well maintained, bolstered with cement, and naturally extended from the supertunnel’s walls. He could see a long way down the lit hall. And most importantly, it was big. Big like a subway. There was plenty of room for their carriage to fit. But that didn’t resolve all of his discomfort. He was still constricted in the cushioned bench

George wondered for a moment why they had to have Andrew with them at all. They weren’t even alone. The tunnel wasn’t crowded, but there were a handful of people walking down. A few merchants, like the one who took him to Meriford, and even a family with a child no more than ten years old. They didn’t seem to be combat ready. So why did George have to be suffocated by an extra man?

Then, he remembered the real danger, at least what Morris suspected. Their destination. It could all be a trap. He glared at the Ardelian. Randall was tapping his knees. Like the ticking of a bomb, the countdown-esque gesture concerned George.

“Uncomfortable?” Andrew asked.

George thought at first Andrew was speaking to him, so he looked toward him. But Andrew did not return George’s gaze- his eyes were focused on Randall’s. He must have noticed the tapping as well.

“Were you part of the guild when they attacked?” Andrew had a stern yet soft way of speaking. It helped calm the nervous Ardelian so that he could give a direct answer.

“No.” The answer drew more attention his way. A civilian wouldn’t be entrusted to break the news of the attack to another city, and though he appeared small before Morris, his physique wasn’t exactly scrawny. Under the pressure of the gazes toward him, Randall broke. “Ardel…” He breathed in. “We were setting up a force in secret. Separate from the guild.

“You’re creating a force in secret!?” Donald pushed in an exaggerated reaction.

“Purely defensive,” Randall said. “We had- have no intention of ever launching an attack. And we have good reason. For Meriford, it’s just a matter of capital but for us? There are people dying of thirst down there. If they’re willing to let that happen, let us die, who’s to say they wouldn’t attack. Who, you? Are you going to tell me we were wrong? Because I’ll-”

“It’s ok,” Andrew said as Randall started to hyperventilate. “When the graldor attacked, was that your first time fighting?”

The change of subject helped Randall collect himself. “I’ve only had a real encounter once before. A pack of crab wolves attacked during a training exercise. But…”

“This was different, wasn’t it? Fighting against people- things that can stand on two legs, that grip their weapons as you do. Looking into their eyes.” Andrew kept his smile through it all. “It’s a different experience entirely.”

Randall still hadn’t managed to focus his gaze. “I watched comrades die. They’re beasts, nothing more.”

Andrew nodded.

Intentional or not, Andrew’s talk with Randall helped George calm down as well. He had gotten Randall to admit something sensitive- a secret force that must have been similar to the one Morris set up at Merriford. If Ardel was planning a set up, Randall would be more tight-lipped about anything that could set them off, or he would have blurted everything out there and then.

It appeared ahead that the tunnel came to an end at just another wall, but when they reached it, the road instead curved and wound to a spiral. The spiral went down and down. And as it went down, it got hotter. George was parched by the time they made it to the bottom. He eagerly got off and took a nice long drink from one of the jugs of water in the back.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a group waiting for them. Soldiers was the first word that came to mind, even though their attire was light. Silk, sleeveless shirts drifted over their stomachs, untucked from their shorts. It was their tight formation, tighter than any he ever saw the guild workers in, and the shortblades glinting at their sides that clued George in. They scowled at him as he continued to gulp the liquid down.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

When George finally put the jug down and noticed the bitter stares, he lifted a hand, as if caught stealing. His jaw unhinged as he tried to think of something to say to excuse himself. Then, he turned back to the mound of supplies. The attendant had packed well, and there were plenty more jugs than necessary. He grabbed another and threw it the soldiers’ way. Andrew gave him a quick thumbs up.

The soldier who caught the jug shook it in his hand to make sure that it was full. He retained the frown, but his eyes lost a bit of their venom, creeping a bit to the right, where he held the water.

“Is this all Meriford has provided?” Another soldier stepped up. He wore a red tassel in front of his left ear which stood him apart from the others. He must have been of a higher rank. “Four bodies, and a few jugs? Or maybe it’s five. Does the stagecoach have any experience with a sword? Is that supposed to make it whole?”

“They want proof.” Randall held his head down as he met the head soldier.

“Proof!?”

“We’re with the guild,” Andrew said. “We want to help, but the Meriford officials have suspicions. Are you with the Ardelian branch?”

“I uhh…”

Randall gave a shameful nod to indicate to the soldier that he had already told them about the secret force.

The soldier grunted. “I’ll take you to the guild.”

The streets were dark. They didn’t have the abundance of light crystals that Meriford had, so they relied on flame-lit sconces. Given the temperatures, however, most of the sconces were doused. A few Nymph-like statues danced in the sparse amber glows, their marble cloth fashioned to the curves of their hips.

The city was not entirely devoid of light crystals, however. As beacons, the chambers hosting important buildings enjoyed a full radial gleam stemming from clusters in the ceiling that had been carved and smoothed to appear as natural bulges.

One such building that enjoyed the luster was the guild office. The structure appeared alike to the one in Meriford- the same six walls, and bronze doors, and equally bright lights inside.

“Greetings.” One difference was that a male voice rung from the desk- Ardel’s attendant. He had light brown hair imprisoned in a bowl cut which fell over his entire forehead. “I don’t think I recognize some of you.”

“They’re here from the Meriford branch,”

“Ah! Make sure Lanne’s alright for me when you get back,” the Ardelian attendant said. “I don’t envy having to deal with someone like Morris on a daily basis.”

Lanne must have been the name of the attendant back in Meriford. It felt good to finally know her name. But George did find it a bit odd that the attendant there had singled out Morris as something he wouldn’t envy. Was Morris really any different from the officials, or whatever commander they had in Ardel? After all, they had their secret force as well. Maybe it was just a better kept secret.

Randall went up to the attendant and whispered Morris’ demands.

“He wants you to see the bodies?” The attendant said, bewildered. “I’m sorry, but that won’t happen. Ardel will not allow for its fallen men to be reduced to evidence. They can show you the battlefield, the bloodstains, and of course where the enemy is holed up.”

“That’s fine,” Andrew said. “If it’s all compelling enough, I don’t see any reason to grant Morris’ petty request.”

George grew more and more appreciative of having Andrew around as it meant he never had to speak up. It certainly was a savvy move by Lanne to send Andrew to Ardel. Aside from whatever capabilities he had in combat, Andrew acted just how the guild would have wanted. He said the right things, lowered tensions, and had a flattering tongue.

“Would you mind taking them over to the Greler,” the attendant said.

It seemed ardel’s secret force must have had at least some relation to the guild as well. The group of soldiers followed the attendant’s wishes and escorted the Meriford guild party to a large chasm. Immediately upon entering, the smell was enough evidence for George. Iron and rot. It lingered soft in the abyss.

They carried a single torch. The empty chasm seemed to weaken its light in some ways, and in others strengthen it. The torch had no competition, and its glow could shine to its full extent without disappearing into another’s reach. Yet the light as a whole was weaker than it could have been, weaker than it needed to be to paint a full picture of the battle at once. Instead, they carried forth in a sluggish and weightful display of each dark splotch of blood, one at a time.

The way the soldiers led came to a break in the chasm’s left wall. The edges of the opening were uneven, and its surroundings cracked. The darkness of the cavity went deeper than the torchlight could reach.

“This is where they came in,” the head soldier said. “And where they retreated to. If you want to see their camps, we’ll have to proceed onward from here, without the torch, and quiet as possible.”

It was the one thing George found a bit odd about the story. If the breach was still open, there should have been guards. But unless they sat silently in the darkest reaches of the chasm, there were none. The suspicion bothered him- well, suspicions typically do, but it was moreso that he could even feel suspicion in that moment. The blood, the smell, it all told him from a primal sense that a battle had occurred, and it told him certainly. It felt wrong, disrespectful to question it. He looked to the others. Their lips were still parted slightly in reverence. Except for Andrew. He must have noticed it too. He kept his lips sealed, stern.

“Is it safe to keep the entrance unguarded?” Andrew asked. While George was grappling whether or not he had the right to suspicions, Andrew must have been calculating how best to raise them. It was after all, their mission to investigate. Andrew stated it as a concern, not a challenge- just making sure they were all safe.

“I don’t think they’d attack again after being driven back,” Donald said, no doubt following the same desire to excuse the inconsistency out of respect as George.

Lestra shook her head, knowing better their ravenous tendencies. And Andrew kept his gaze on the head soldier, waiting for an answer from him.

“They won’t attack again,” the head soldier said. “We can show you why, but… I would like it if the exact details aren’t shared when you get to Meriford.”

“Of course,” Andrew said.

Instead of the original plan of heading into the breach the graldor had retreated to, the soldiers took the group to the end of the chasm where a grand structure came visible. Ribbed pillars stretched from end to end, punctured by a comparatively small entrance. A layered ceiling stopped at a flat top little more than a fifth the way up the chasm.

Inside, Polished tan floors acclimated to the flame better than rough effigies carved at the sides. Graldor, pinned down by stone soldiers, appeared to crawl from the shadows, out toward a pedestal at the back of the hall. The pedestal was empty. Whatever artifact once lay on it was to this structure as an emperor’s body is to a tomb. There were no doubt other rooms in such a large structure, but that hall was the center, and the pedestal its crown basking in the pale glint of a single light stone.

“It was stolen,” the head soldier said solemnly. “They weren’t driven back. They escaped. The graldor took our Kine stone.”

Lestra’s face went pale. Her eyes widened and her lips quivered. Without a word, she darted out of the hall.