“Cassandra!” Merrick squealed, scholarly excitement coating his voice. “Come look at this! I think I’ve found something!”

Cassandra sighed heavily as she stood from her desk and walked over, her heeled shoes clicking on the tile of their shared office. “Merrick, I’ve got a lot of work to do. You can’t keep bothering me with all these distractions—” her words abruptly stopped as Merrick pointed to a diminutive figure hidden among grotesque scenes depicted on a wide stone slab. The carving was so small, in fact, that it was easily overlooked with the scenes of epic battle etched all around it.

“That figure is too small to be a human,” Merrick explained. “Look at its size compared to this decapitated human body over here—it’s got to be something else.”

Cassandra squinted at the carving of what looked to be a small man wearing a tiny pointed hat. “It could be a child,” she guessed.

“In the middle of a battle?” Merrick replied skeptically.

Cassandra shrugged. “Stranger things have been known to happen.” She brushed the smooth stone with her fingertips and frowned. “Is this the tablet from the farm?”

Merrick nodded. “Miller Farm. In Sagewood. Remember all those rumors we heard when we stayed at the local inn? Rumors of monsters and tiny magical men living in the forest that bordered the farm?”

Cassandra shrugged again. “I’m sure that’s all they are—just rumors. I hardly remember that backwater town.” She thought for a moment, as if recalling their time there. “I remember the farmer, though. Matt, right?” A faint smile graced her lips. “He was fun to tease.”

Merrick grunted absentmindedly. “The museum is still holding onto the funds from the sale of everything we excavated from the cave on his property. I’m sure they’d rather us hand deliver them than have them sent via the farmer’s dropbox.” Merrick turned back to the slab. “Maybe we could ask him if we could excavate the cave a little more, poke around his farm a bit…” Merrick met Cassandra’s flat look.

“I think the farmer would realize if there were pint-sized people running around his farm,” Cassandra said, flipping her golden hair behind her back.

Merrick scratched his chin. “Maybe, but maybe not. I’m sure they’re good at concealing themselves. We would need to devise a trap of some kind to try and catch one.”

Cassandra laughed. “Merrick, you’re starting to sound like a crazy person. Well—crazier than usual.” She turned back to the slab, her eyes skimming the depictions once more. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to pay the farmer a visit. I wonder if he’s still single?”

Merrick rolled his eyes but quickly turned his thoughts back to the tiny carving. He would need to devise a trap that could physically hold such a being—and magically bind them as well. Tiny magical men, commonly referred to as sprites, were laced throughout the legends of Etheria, but there hadn’t been a sighting in centuries. That didn’t mean they weren’t real though. He would need to get ahold of some enchanted rope, or something of equal strength. There was no telling what these magical men were capable of. He glanced back at the tablet. The creator had included depictions of many dead humans, but one living tiny man. Did that mean they were immortal, or just difficult to kill? Merrick pulled himself from these thoughts, turning back to his work partner.

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“It’s settled then. I’ll get the funds from the museum, and we’ll pay our old friend a visit,” Merrick said.

Cassandra shrugged before returning to her desk. “I’ll pack my lowest cut blouse.”

***

Baron Gregor Ramsguard reclined in his opulent dining hall. The lavish decorations that adorned his manor couldn’t distract him from his racing thoughts. He shifted uncomfortably in his plush chair, muttering under his breath about the accursed farmer who had quickly become a thorn in his side.

Corruption, the insidious entity, had relentlessly urged the Baron to seize Miller Farm. The spirit had been breathing down the Baron’s neck for a long time now, but lately, he was tightening his shadowy clutches, insisting that the farm—steeped in magic and home to several nature stones—was a key element in his grand plan.

The Baron shifted uncomfortably in his chair again and sighed. He could simply have Matt Miller killed—it would be easy enough. However, the farmer’s deep connections with the people of Sagewood presented a dilemma. He was friends with everyone. Doing so would probably result in a full-fledged rebellion. The Baron feared an uprising among the townsfolk, many of whom were already suspicious of his motives. Cursing under his breath, he grappled with ideas on how to get his hands on the farm.

Not only was the farmer close with the townspeople, but he was also close to the magical beings that inhabited the land. The Baron clenched his fists at the thought of those infuriating sprites. Insufferable magical pests. Gregor didn’t know how many there were, just that more than one of them lived on the farm. They would certainly come to the farmer’s aid if the Baron sent soldiers to kill him.

The Baron’s gaze wandered as he tried to come up with a solution when there was a shifting of shadows on the far side of the room. Suddenly aware that he was not alone, Gregor’s stomach sank. Corruption materialized across the table—a humanoid form cloaked in leaky tendrils of shadow that seemed to absorb light. Pallid eyes fixed on the Baron and sent a shiver down his spine.

“Have you acquired Miller Farm?” Corruption’s flat tone revealed his displeasure, hinting that he already knew the answer.

With a sigh, Gregor admitted defeat. “No, not yet.”

“What’s stopping you from killing the farmer and taking the land by force?”

“He’s too well-known,” the Baron explained. “Killing him directly would raise too many questions.”

Corruption narrowed his eyes, his shadowy presence intensifying. “Have him arrested then. Throw him in your dungeon to rot for the rest of his days.” Corruption leaned forward, his shadowy tendrils closing in on the Baron. “You know he was the one responsible for the fire on his farm. You could charge him with endangering the townspeople.”

Gregor raised his eyebrows, considering. “That actually might work.”

Corruption narrowed his pale, lifeless eyes to slits, before nodding once. “Of course it will. See that you do it quickly. I’m growing tired of waiting.”

As the oppressive entity vanished, Gregor contemplated the sinister plan. “It would have to be away from the farm, when he’s vulnerable… without his magical little protectors.”

The Baron's thoughts churned, acknowledging the farmer's rare excursions to town. The arrest would have to be well timed to avoid raising questions. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face as he contemplated how he would do it.

“There’s a chance,” he whispered. “A chance for me to redeem myself. And I won’t let anyone—or anything—stand in my way.”