The morning air was crisp, carrying a faint tang of salt from the nearby marshes. Dawncrest, even in its current state, exuded a rugged charm. The weathered walls spoke of years of defending against the wilds, but now they seemed more like relics of a forgotten era. The streets, once bustling with life, now carried a heavy silence, broken only by the distant sounds of hammering or the occasional shout of a merchant hawking wares.
Willam guided the group through the narrow streets, his stride purposeful. As the group walked, their eyes swept over the town, taking in the crumbling infrastructure and weary faces of the townsfolk.
“This place wasn’t always like this,” Boreas said quietly, his voice carrying a mix of nostalgia and disappointment. “When I was stationed here, Dawncrest was alive. The people were proud, hardworking. Now...” He trailed off, gesturing to the faded signs and boarded-up shops.
Mori’s gaze lingered on a group of children playing with a makeshift ball near a dilapidated fountain. Their laughter was bright but fleeting, like a brief flame in a sea of shadows. “What happened to them?” she asked softly.
Willam sighed. “The mayor happened. Or, more accurately, whoever’s pulling his strings. He arrived a year ago, promising progress, wealth, and safety. At first, people believed him. But it didn’t take long for the cracks to show.”
He paused to greet a stooped old woman carrying a basket of herbs. She gave him a faint smile before shuffling away. “The taxes went up. Way up. Then his ‘guards’ started shaking down businesses for protection money. Those who couldn’t pay either left or...” He hesitated, glancing at Mori. “...disappeared.”
“They killed them,” Midas said bluntly, his tone cold.
Willam nodded grimly. “Probably. Though no bodies have ever been found. The townsfolk are too scared to ask questions.”
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As they approached the town square, a sudden shout cut through the air. A beggar, disheveled and wild-eyed, stood atop a broken crate, his voice ringing with desperation. “Chaos reigns! It’s waking up, he is waking up! Corruption! Treachery! Save yourself!” His words sent a ripple through the few townsfolk lingering nearby, who quickly turned away, pretending not to hear.
Before the group could react, the man leapt down and lunged toward them, clutching Neres’s feet with a bony hand. “Beware of it,” he rasped, his voice trembling with urgency. “It’ll seep inside. Beware!”
The companions froze, startled by the intensity of his outburst. Boreas, however, watched the man with an inscrutable expression, his face betraying no hint of emotion. Neres, regaining his composure, gently extricated himself from the man’s grasp and murmured a quiet reassurance. The beggar stared at him for a moment longer before collapsing back onto the ground, muttering incoherently.
The group exchanged uneasy glances before Willam gestured for them to move on. “He’s harmless,” he said quietly. “But the things he says... they’re not entirely nonsense. Some folks think he knows something, but most just write him off as mad.”
Neres cast a glance back at the man, who was now slumped on the cobblestones, still muttering under his breath. “Mad or not, warnings like that are hard to ignore.”
“Keep your wits about you,” Boreas muttered, his voice low. “Sometimes madness comes from truths too heavy to bear.”
The group continued down the street, the encounter leaving an unshakable unease in its wake.
Neres, who had been quietly observing, suddenly gestured to a wagon trundling down the street. It was laden with crates and barrels, guarded by three heavily armed men. “That doesn’t look like your average supply run,” he said.
“It’s not,” Willam confirmed. “That’s one of the mayor’s caravans. They leave every few days, heading to who-knows-where. They’re heavily guarded, and anyone who gets too close... well, let’s just say they don’t come back.”
Mori’s eyes narrowed. “What’s in the crates?”
“Stolen goods,” Willam replied. “Food, supplies, even weapons. All taken from the townsfolk. The mayor hoards some of it in his mansion, but most of it gets sent elsewhere. We suspect he’s trading it for something, but we don’t know what.”
Boreas’s jaw tightened. “We’ll find out.”