The air was a cool warm. The sun shined in the sky up high, departing away from noon. So quiet, it was… besides, as always, those sounds of turning wheels and clopping hooves. Antica simply stared out from the wagon’s edge, her arms dangling out as she eyed the world around. There were more mountains in the distance afar as of late, she noticed. More trees and woodlands as well, she noticed.

They were now definitively within what constituted these so-called ‘central realms’, as she had been told by Novea. The gradual changes in environment and geography were reflecting such.

Unlike the north and northwestern realms which seemed predominately grassland with a few forests and mountains here and there, in general, the central realms were largely diverse with dense woodlands intermixed with grasslands and hills, the ratio of which became more forest-centric the deeper one traveled through the central lands. The topography was also more varied.

Hmm…everything was becoming more familiar to her, so it seemed. Even though she had not necessarily been in…whatever realm they were presently in, more and more she was reminded of that spot she had been… standing still as her HUD-mask flared…before everything went dark, awaking to the carnage.

The trees… she had not noticed this before, but the trees here were different than the trees up north—the grass as well, seemed different. Different, but related, species of trees, shrubs, flowers, and grass dominated the central lands. Hmm… oddly uniform in climate, yet…diverse in the different shades and flavors of flora and fauna.

Though…the trees, the grass, the plants, all of it…seemed more similar to those which had been engrained into her head…from that night more than a year-and-a-half ago. Such was how she was able to immediately tell that there was a definitive difference… Every detail of that night had been thoroughly encarved, inescapable from memory.

They were closing in towards Huckleberry. These familiarities would only intensify, as would this…strange…all-encompassing feeling…that had been so intruding more and more as of late. She was getting closer and closer to that same place where she had been ambushed. It was as if the closer she was to it, the more she thought about it…and the more she had that same dream on repeat every night.

Why was her mind incapable of escaping that night? Why was it stuck in her head so? She did not know; she could not comprehend.

Antica sighed…before she lifted her dangling left arm up, her finger tapping her auxiliary terminal device’s screen. Hmm… nothing new, of course… she knew that.

It was now almost three days since they had left Sporkwheat. Three days, yet… they still had yet to reach Huckleberry. Seven days of travel in total, thus… a full week. They should have arrived by now; yet… clearly, they have not.

Regardless, in those three days, nothing exceptional had occurred. She had not heard even a single buzz from Bee. All was quiet; though, she did not feel that all was well.

Antica sighed again; she continued to stare at her terminal device’s screen. There was still many of its base functionalities she had yet to setup and reconfigure; she still did not know…the extent to which this so-called ‘security lock’ truly affected her terminal device’s features and functions.

Despite having spent this entire long and drawn-out trip…doing largely nothing, she had not spent any of that time…to do any such things. She had the time, clearly, so logically she should have spent that time…doing such things. Especially so since…she had already exposed some of what her terminal device was to Novea’s sight.

Hmm… Antica’s attention glanced at Novea who stared into the road ahead, oddly quiet. Indeed, exposing some was not the same as exposing all. Protocols, regulations, and…conditioned instincts within her…compelled her to remain cautious and…careful with her usage of Remnant equipment and technology when in Novea’s or any denizen’s presence… even though she might not have been necessarily the most careful as was.

Likewise, she did not see the need to do things in haste; she had the time. Right now, she only needed what had been configured already—communication with Bee and non-ping access to her relevant equipment. It was best, she decided, to configure only when such was needed. Though, having such prepared in advance would always be better, yet…

All due in time. She was without her HUD-mask, anyway; some of those functions would not be as…convenient to utilize… yet still more convenient to be with than without even in absence of her HUD-mask… And she preferred being readied and responsive at all times, always…

Ugh… Her mind was spinning her around and around in infinite repetitive circles.

Antica’s attention shifted away from that slim yet slightly bulky Remnant terminal device of hers, and back to the environment around. She needed to redirect her mind to something more… not this.

Hmm… she noticed, there was a slight divergence of the flora around compared to…that which were engrained in her relatively recent memories. They were not as dark-green and blush; they beginning to…tint more…yellow or orange. The forest and trees afar, the grass around.

This place… right, it had cyclic ‘seasons’—four of them—due to the world’s wobbling tilt. Right… the ninth month out of this new year’s twelve was…fast approaching. It was transitioning to ‘autumn’… Could that be why? But…up north, the plants and leave had not seemed to change color unless they were…dying—albeit it was not as though she had ever left Coastfield during that time to thoroughly…observe.

She did not know; there was much she remained ignorant of.

Antica sighed yet again. Truly, how she had fallen…to be contemplating plants—of all mundanities. Though, where she was from…she hardly ever saw plants or…any form of life, really. Yet…as she stared, she felt nothing, or maybe…she was feeling something since she could not help but continue to stare.

Something…deep down within…was keeping her stare. Yet that which she stared upon seemed mundane and objectively pointless to even consider.

Why had she been so curious before, during her time stuck within that supply wagon? Only to be…so indifferent when she could finally stare and see… Yet…why was she still staring? Why could she not stop staring? She was bored, yet…such could not be the only reason.

Something deep down within her…was curious…and interested, despite not having any reason…to be…

Ugh… yet again, her mind was spinning her around in circles. Truly, her mind was being…extra uncooperative as of late.

“…alrightly, it’s been…enough hours… Break time” Novea broke the silence, the wagon suddenly shifting directions as it went off-road and into the flowery plains around.

On one hand, Antica would prefer to continue to travel and stop with these ‘breaks’ even if such was logically impossible, yet, oddly, she could not help but feel a sense of…relief deep down within… that she could finally stand up again, walk around, and do something that was not simply sitting within the abyss of her own mind; of course, she could not comprehend it.

The horse and wagon finally came to a halt, parking before a pond of sorts surrounded by an array of flowers; one that was filled with such crystal clean water, as if placed there by design to be the safest water to drink. Convenient, indeed, that such was located right near a road.

Novea hopped off and detached the horse from the wagon, allowing it to move about. The horse immediately went to the pond to drink the water. Climbing atop the wagon from its edge, Novea then grabbed what…remained of its feed—feed which it had…eaten more of than she wanted it to.

“Ugh… glutton horse, you’re strong so that makes sense…but still…” Novea muttered in remark.

Antica herself had hopped off in kind, though remained stationary next to the wagon, simply watching both Novea and the equine do their…respective doings, her ears attending to Novea’s mumbling.

“…running out of dried meat… I can’t wait to eat well again… First thing I’m going to do once we reach… Ugh, why haven’t we reached it yet… Stupid horse, supposed to be fast! Six…seven days, and it’s going to be eight… And of course that monthly curse had to arrive early—Hate, hate when it intrudes during travels, urgh” thus Novea muttered away as she dragged the light sack of feed from the wagon, plopping it onto the ground…leaving it open.

Novea then went to that same pond from which the horse was drinking. Antica simply trailed along, watching as Novea refilled her waterskin, sipping from it…quite so, before refilling it again…closing it. She then ughed… for no apparent reason… as she took off her Raven mask and rinsed her face, urghing again…as she withdrew from the pond. Returning to the wagon, she sat herself down…upon the flowery ground, her back leaning against the parked wheel; she began to munch away on…a chunky piece of dried meat.

Antica, of course, simply stared. Novea’s eyes seemed more…tired and bagged; she seemed uncomfortable and…quite miserable, to be frank. She was rather silent and moody too, not nearly as…talkative or interested in talking—much like Antica, yet that was precisely the…weirdness; Novea was not usually like this.

This has been the case since a day or so after leaving Sporkwheat.

Although Antica had noticed that Novea was…becoming more…discomforted, the switch had still felt rather…abrupt, to be frank—especially in mood. And such had only seemed to intensify as time passed.

Antica had not bothered to really ask…the last couple or so days, but now… “I might have asked this before, but… are you alright?” she finally bothered to ask, approaching closer.

Novea glared up, more annoyed than pleased that Antica was asking. She chewed and swallowed her dried meat; “You’re observant, what does it look like to you?” Novea replied with a more irritated voice.

« … » Antica simply stared; “You appear to be with misery.” she bluntly stated.

For whatever reason, Antica’s deadpan delivery made Novea faintly smile, her mood…improving slightly. “That’s a way to say it…” she replied, sighing, “Yeah… I’ll be fine, I just have a mindache and the feeling of being squeezed on the inside by a minotaur, but… it’ll pass by tomorrow—hopefully…”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“I see…” Antica replied.

Novea sighed again; “Yeah, sorry… if I’ve been…rude and…slow the last couple of days, this kind of…came by surprise for me…too” she apologized, eyes gazing down slightly. “I’m a short-but-miserable type of girl, I guess… Usually lasts two-to-three days, but…Gods’ sacred is it…unpleasant” she added, eyes gazing up towards the sky, “I knew Fortune was a bitch, but I didn’t think she would bring Fertility into this…”

“Uhuh…” Antica mumbly replied.

“Not only…did it strike early, but—and I mean, I can tolerate…this…you know? I am a Raven, I have to…put up with this even when I am…out, but…this time, I don’t think…I’ve felt this bad of cramps since the first time…” she complained aloud, “Must be because of…the happenings the past month-and-half… never mind breathing in all that…rotten ash…”

Novea was speaking in a way that suggested Antica would…intrinsically understand what was going on with her; though, Antica…in fact…did not understand whatsoever.

Indeed, Antica slightly tilted her head; “So… you are sick, then?”

Novea’s eyes stared into Antica’s cyanic own, her head tilting in kind. “Huh?” she blurted strongly, “N-no? I mean… it feels that way, but—You know, that is a very…man question to ask: ‘uhm, lady, you sick or sometin?’—you are a girl, use your head!”

Yet Antica’s head only tilted more. She had not the faintest idea of how she was supposed intuitively deduce…what was going on. And what did her humiform have to do with any of this? She did not know.

Hmm… Yet these symptoms… Indeed, she recalled observing something similar in her peers back when she had been working as a tavern waitress in Coastfield. Almost every month, in fact, some would show up…exceptionally moody, with complaints of painful cramps in addition to…

“Are you…‘bleeding’, too?” Antica abruptly inquired.

Novea glared; “Yes! Wow! I am having my bleed, Fertility’s envious curse…” she replied, sarcasm evident.

“I see…” Antica replied, her focus withdrawing.

So, Novea had that ‘bleeding’ symptom too… Right, it was likely the same…condition she had observed prior, then? Interesting… Temporary and comparatively short, from what she could infer, but seemingly...frequent.

Hmm… though, she did not notice any overt bleeding from the skin’s pores or any orifices, both with Novea and her prior tavern peers… Hmm… So, what type of bleeding? Internal? No…most likely not… Hmm…

Well, regardless, her immediate hunch was that this was some kind of virus… Right, places like here had patterns of cyclic outbreaks, and this one seemed to occur almost every month. A hyper-mutative virus, then? Hmm… though, she had yet to see any signs of immune responses such as fever… Odd…

Agh, she was neither a Pink-Coat nor an Orange-Coat; Violet-Coats’ understanding of such affairs appertained predominantly to the most…abhorrent of kinds.

“Yeah…sorry, didn’t mean to get so snappy… And sorry for…slowing us down, I know I’ve been…stopping more…lately” Novea apologized, her voice more awkward.

Indeed, this…condition of hers was partially responsible for why they had yet to reach Huckleberry, on top of the other general delays resulting from…poorer roads, environmental hurdles, and such.

“Oh, look at him… Now he’s eating the Trinity’s damned plants…” Novea blurted out, her tired eyes now glaring at that equine.

Antica turned her gaze in kind, staring at that horse…now eating away at the flowers around as if it had been starving. Strange creature, indeed, this equine was.

Yet abruptly, Novea—miserable as she might be—sprung herself back up…as her corvid, which had been in the air scouting, began to caw and caw in notifying alert, circling above.

Antica’s own attention sprung in kind; “…what is it?” she inquired.

“He’s found something somewhere ahead on your path… Something of attention; he wants us to follow…” Novea replied.

“You can understand what the bird is… ” Antica was asking, only hearing the same crowing caws as before.

“Yeah. He has different caws and tones; we learn to recognize them…” Novea answered, “Anyway, come on, quickly. Let him lead” she said, redonning her corvid mask.

“I am following you” Antica acknowledged, hopping onto the wagon’s edge as she grabbed her revolving-rifle before hopping back down.

Yet Novea was already making way. Despite her obvious…discomfort, she was pushing herself forward, nevertheless.

Antica quickly caught up. “What about the…ehm…horse?” she asked from behind.

Novea glanced, only speeding up; “He’ll be fine… Area’s safe enough, and he’s a Far Western horse: they always stay with their wagons” she answered.

-|-

The shadowy corvid circled above, cawing away with a different pitch, as the two arrived at the scene, pausing and staring around. Even from the distance, they had already been able to tell…

“…oh Raven Mother…” Novea’s fatigued breaths slipped aloud.

“What happened here?” Antica simply asked, despite already being able to deduce. She promptly began to evaluate the scene.

They were on an obscure road, though one heading in the same direction as they themselves. Five wagon carriages of sorts… somewhat rugged in appearance—not of great quality nor condition. Obviously damaged too, recently so. The wheels…broken, crude arrows were stuck on each side. The equines or…whatever other animals…that had been drawing them were missing.

Death… All around, death was all her eyes could see. The ignited sigil engraved brightened slightly…as she felt more cold and numb.

She approached closer, evaluating the scattered bodies of adults and…children alike. Butchered, effectively; it was a massacre, a nasty one too…

Hacked, stabbed, chopped, the wounds were both vicious and crude. Some were shot with arrows… No, wait, she also saw what were clearly…firearm-projectile entry wounds.

Mutilated also… She noticed some of the bodies…many of them…were mutilated. Fingers, noses, ears, and even…genitals… were dismembered, yet such…pieces were unable to be found anywhere near the scene; they had been taken, seemingly.

None of these denizens seemed combat qualified; a few seemed to have put up a fight, though these seemed to have received the worst of the inflicted cruelty.

“Gods’ sacred… I need…a… My stomach, ugh…” Novea’s stomach clenched as she averted away, needing a moment. Despite what she was, such sights…still affected her.

Antica merely acknowledged, and…silently continued to evaluate.

Hmm… she noticed, almost all of the bodies were males, beside a few females which were either very young or very old… nothing in-between. Hmm… yet the presence of children suggested greater ‘family’ units of sorts—parents, relatives, and offspring. So, there had to have been more females present.

She turned her attention to the environment around this road. The grass and shrubs around were dense and…difficult to see through, somewhat tall too. There was a forest right next to this road directly to her left, out from which the densest of shrubs seemed to be sprawling.

An ambush, she was already able to tell beforehand but now it was confirmed. These travelling people had been ambushed by those who had been hiding in the flora.

Signs and indications, she noticed. The shrubs and grass on the left seemed…bent and flattened. Hmm… but not on the right, only in the direction of the forest…despite the scene indicating a clear bi-directional ambush. These distortions were not due to…the movements of the ambushers, then, but perhaps…people being dragged off and into the forest; she deduced.

Ah… so that was what likely happened to the females, then? Captured… a selective capturing, considering the very young and the very old…were not included, never mind the males.

Bee was still overwatching, yet had not buzzed her… Either Bee had not observed this happening, or they had deduced this was…a strictly denizen affair involving non-relevant highlights.

Hmm… denizens… She evaluated the shrubs again. Tall and dense, granted, but…she could not really see how an armored and armed full-grown denizen of this continent…could effectively obscure themselves in there sufficiently for an ambush…

Unless they were…rather small…

Wait…

“Did…children do this?” Antica blurted.

Novea, having had her moment of pause to harden herself, reapproached Antica; “Huh? Children?” she blurted in kind, “…I was wondering what…you’d make of this, but that’s… something alright…”

Antica turned and glanced; “Only small people could have feasibly done this, I think” she clarified.

Novea sighed, turning her attention to the scene, seeing the arrows…and the…methodology. “Goblins, obviously… Antica, it was goblins”—her eyes lanced to the forest near—“forest goblins or…maybe cave goblins, this was recent too since we aren’t being watched and…they haven’t gotten rid of the…remains” she remarked.

Antica slightly tilted her head, cogitating…“…goblins?”

“…” Novea stared, tilting her head in kind; “Wait? You seriously do not know…what…goblins are? They exist in the New World too, Miss ‘I’m-From-The-New-World’… And I’ve mentioned them many times before and you never asked then…”

“I have heard of them from others, such as you, but…I do not know…what they are…truly” Antica…admitted.

Novea simply sighed with a nod; “They’re vicious short fuckers… Usually green, but they exist in many colors… Pointy-eared like an elf but…even longer; a lot of them have big stupid noses and a slight hunch to their back, and are about this tall”—she demonstrated with her hand—“so… short, almost child-sized… though, there are taller ones… It depends on their class” thus she explained.

“Oh…” Antica blurted, her head lightly nodding away, « Goblinoe, síc rectë… » Oh, goblins. Indeed, perhaps surprisingly, she knew what ‘goblins’ were… just…not in…local tongue. Remnant records had clear documentation, after all.

Though, it was clear that this group of apparent goblins were…quite aggressively hostile.

“So…what happened here, then?” Antica inquired; now she was interested in what Novea’s eyes were seeing.

Novea stared; “What do I think? I mean, just look at these…poor hapless souls… Most likely, these were people fleeing from Huckleberry… Most realms don’t care for those sorts, so they are forgettable and won’t be missed…” she explained, “and goblins are smart, human-like almost—it’s disgusting… but, yeah, they probably knew they were easy prey…and so, well…”

“I can see…” Antica…completed. Though, rather odd language indeed. Novea was speaking as if these goblins were lesser…barely sentient…inhuman things almost. But to her, they were no different from any other type of local.

Novea sighed in lament, gazing at the butchered bodies… “Slaughtered all of the boys and men,” she began to remark aloud, “stole the horses, and looted the spoils… Wicked little…”

“And what happened to the women, then? There clearly must have been ladies here” Antica asked, despite knowing the technical answer.

Novea…however…tensed up, her stomach clenching. Indeed, merely thinking about such made her squeamish.

“Goblins are…many things, but they are…defined by their envious hatred of…mankind; they detest us…beyond the strongest of words, and they show their hatred in ways they know…are both cruel and…horrible…” she explained, “…and women are part of the spoils of war and violence; that’s the truth of life… They’re practically dead, even if still breathing… I’ll keep it at that”.

“I see…” Antica replied; she did not understand…what Novea was truly implying, besides the possibility that they were still alive.

“Anyway… they will be back to clean the scene… We are witnesses, so best we leave, now” Novea stated.

“But wait, what of the captured? You implied that—” Antica was saying, but…

“And I just said that they are practically dead… Our only chance was during this…happening, but it already happened—they are now all back in their den…probably in the middle of…it… Goblins are ranked higher than orcs for a reason: orcs are big and strong meat-heads, goblins are weak and pathetic…so they are demonically conniving and smart—their dens are deathtraps for the unprepared, and I am not prepared” Novea interrupted in a snap, stern yet…with a certain…hesitancy in voice. She was terrified.

Suddenly, her circling corvid began to caw and caw in alarm.

“They’re coming back… We need to leave, now. This is not our priority…” Novea urgently stated as she began to withdraw with haste.

Yet Antica…remained as was. She turned and stared into the forest next and near. She could somewhat tell…things were starting to move, yet…she still cogitated.

It was somewhat evident that…these goblins were embroiled in some sort of ‘sectarian bloodbath’, as those Green-Coats would have called it, with the other denizens. It was neither her purpose nor place to intervene or involve herself in such local affairs.

But…she relooked at the butchered…scattered bodies. It would be a lie to claim…she was not affected.

She could not just…depart and do nothing with the knowledge that there were people being…tormented to death within reach. Protocols were very clear… but the Remnant was not without…overriding prerogatives.

“What are you doing?! Come on! Now!” Novea implored, now at a distance.

Antica let out an acquiescing sigh… and finally began to withdraw.

Yet suddenly: a snapping click and piercing bang.

As all the world…faded to empty black.