The pot-bellied soldier hefted his cudgel, but a frantic burst of energy from Marion caused him to hesitate.

“No no no!” He scrabbled forward on his knees, clawing at Vincht's belt. He slapped the hand away, but Marion persisted. “Please, I know this!”

“Marion, he'll kill me!” Lydia wailed, hyperventilating.

The old man ignored her. “It was over a decade ago. This awful storm had blown in. A strong one for the time of year. Maybe even the worst storm we've ever seen out here.

“A merchant had come to town a day or two before. A rarity, but I was able to trade away some of my private tobacco stash for a bottle of Toddleton's saffron mead. I owed a friend for a tincture he'd made to hel-”

“Marion...” Vincht hissed.

The old man swallowed. “We was sittin' on his covered porch when the rain started. A light sprinkle at first, but it picked up fast. The trees' is pretty dense around his cabin, so we just took the whole of it in as we drank.

“We were scraping the bottom of the bottle, and I couldn't hardly see straight. Suddenly, somebody just comes marchin' right outta the trees, a bundle of something draped over each of his shoulders. Could barely see him in the low light. Late night caller. He's good with fixing people, my friend is. I figured what, with the storm and the time, whoever it was musta needed him somethin' urgent.”

“Please, Marion,” Lydia reached out for him, but the old man shrank from her grasp. “Please stop. Don't do this.”

“Now, I could barely stand at this point, and the whole world was a spinnin', but my friend just hopped up like he'd been sipping water all night. Leaves me sitting there clinging to my chair like I might float away.

“I could hear them, mucking about just inside the cabin. Shoving things about. Talking. I don't even know how I stood up, let alone how I made it to the door, but when I looked in there, there was this...” He paused. “Thing.”

“A thing?” Vincht grabbed him by the collar and wrenched him to his feet.

“I don't know! I was drunk, but it didn't look like much. Just odd, ya know? Out of place.”

“By all that's good, Marion, you'd better give me some fucking details and quick. Something more than you can figure out from looking at that picture I showed you, or so help me...”

“Metal!” Marion screeched, flinching as if expecting to be struck. “It was made of metal!”

Vincht held him there, face-to-face, pondering the possibilities. The old man might have been able to guess that detail. He might have gotten lucky. He might just have reached out into the ether and pulled out the one descriptor that would keep Vincht from having Arik spill the man's brain all over the cobblestone walkway.

Then again, he could very well be telling the truth...but there was another detail described in the remaining piece of the vellum letter that would confirm the veracity of the man's claims, a detail that would not be so easy to guess.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

He released his grip on Marion's collar, and Arik helped him back onto his knees. Vincht crossed his arms, adopting a mask of cool indifference, an expression that stood in stark contrast to the storm of emotion raging within. “Let me be very clear, Marion. If you are lying to me, I will have Arik break your remaining appendages one by one, before I personally disembowel you here, right in front of your wife.

“But if you're telling the truth...then answer me this. The object...it has a grip.” His eyes narrowed into slits. “What color is it?”

Marion nodded frantically, breaking into a desperate smile. “White! Some sort of grainy, coarse white stone! I saw it, plain as day, plain as the nose on my face, I saw it!”

Vincht's heart practically stopped. He really has seen it.

“WHERE. Where is it?!”

“Don't,” Lydia managed so weakly Vincht couldn't be sure he actually heard her.

“Ishen has it! His name is Ishen!” Marion pointed off to the east. “He has a cabin out in the forest. The ol' boy isn't much for village life, so he lives off by himself, off the beaten path and out of the way. I could show you! I could take you there right now!”

Vincht nodded. Most of the homesteads they had visited throughout the morning had resided directly on the main-thoroughfare. If a cabin existed deep within the Traagen, its unlikely any of his men would have stumbled upon it already.

“Lydia, look at me.” Vincht gently cupped the woman's face in his hand and turned her to face him. The woman met his gaze with teary eyes, but remained silent. “Lydia, do you know of this Ishen person? Marion's not lying to me? He's actually a real, live human being?”

Lydia nodded, slack-jawed, eyes vacant.

“Do you know where he is? If I asked you to, if your life depended on it, you could find him?”

A flit of confusion crossed her face. She nodded again.

Vincht grinned. “That's what I wanted to hear.”

In a flash, Vincht buried his belt knife to the hilt in Marion's throat. A river of red poured down his neck, blossoming across the front of his mismatched clothing. The old man's mouth spasmed, opening and closing like a fish snatched from the water. Vincht tore his knife free, cleaning it on Marion's shoulder before the man collapsed face-first onto the cobbles.

Lydia never even blinked.

Sheathing his knife, Vincht whistled to the third soldier. Rowen leaned against a nearby tree and retched. Vincht pointed at the woman. “Arik, get her on her feet. She's going to lead us to this Ishen's.”

“You killed him,” said Rowen, clutching his stomach and wiping the remnants of his breakfast off his chin. “He did exactly what you asked and you killed him. Why? Are you mad?”

Vincht could only sigh. A never-ending disappointment. “He gave up his wife to save his own skin, Rowen. Twice. Once in the house, and again out here. I was never going to let such a dishonorable coward live. He was dead the moment he made his wife answer the door.”

Rowen shook his head in disbelief. Arik steadied the woman, one arm hooked through her own. Vincht was all smiles. Soon, their journey to Elbin would pay dividends and ten years of searching would be justified. Everything was falling into place. Fate was truly on his side.

The third soldier appeared from the trees. Vincht lifted a hand and wiggled four fingers, gesturing to the house with his other. The soldier nodded begrudgingly and made his way toward to hovel, disappearing through the open door.

Vincht rested a gloved hand on the older woman's slumped shoulder and squeezed. “Alright Lydia. Time to be useful.”