Mao kept humming to himself all morning. Despite the fact that his body was aching as if he’d ran non-stop for a week, the fox was in a remarkably good mood. Enough so that it gave Josei a sly smile and a knowing glint in her eye. At first Mao didn’t understand why that was, nor did he get the not so subtle jokes and prods about what he’d been up to last night.

“Just a run through the city to stretch my legs,” he said while grinding a batch of harefoot leaves. His mother hummed and hawed in a way that suggested she knew something he didn’t, and by now it was starting to get irritating.

“All alone?” She asked while giving him yet another all too smug side-glance. What was she suspecting and why was it making her so giddy?

“All alone yeah. I needed to sort my thoughts. Relax a little.”

“Relax huh, I see.” His mother feigned a disinterested expression, lips forming a stiff line low on her chin while her eyebrows tried to reunite with her hair.

“Mhm…” Mao eyed her warily.

“In the Red Light District by chance?” Josei continued.

“Erh…” Mao paused, uncertain of if he had gone through there or not. It felt as if that other fox had led him on a hunt through all of Redlog.

“Maybe…”

“Oho,” Josei crowed. What was with her today?

“What about it?” He asked.

“Oh nothing, just wondering. Did you… meet anyone you know while you were there? Or someone new maybe? Lots of travelers coming into the city right now.”

Mao had to pause to give Josei a confused look. The old woman blinked, blushed slightly, then went to pet Tulip. The rooster made a startled sound, blinked at the woman who so rarely petted him, then deemed it an acceptable kind of attention and went back to sleep. Mao squinted at his mom.

“What are you smirking about? Mom, did I miss something?”

Josei didn’t meet his eyes but her lips once more formed a smile. “Oh nothing, nothing at all, son.” She started smiling wider. Mao decided to throw her a low blow.

“So how’s Karl Brewer?” He grinned at the way the question made Josei’s face sour at once.

“Good. Why?”

“Any new flower attempts?”

Josei glowered at Mao, previous mischief all but forgotten at the reminder of her not so smooth suitor. Karl Brewer- that tavern owner and occasional medicine maker up on School Street, a rather beefy man of a respectable age close to Josei’s own, had been trying to woo her for a little while now. Mao suspected the man had been crushing on his mother for a good few years, but it had taken him until now to build enough courage to do something about it.

Unfortunately for Karl, Josei wasn’t very interested. He was polite enough not to push it too far, but every now and then inspiration would strike and the old brewer would try to impress her somehow.

A delivery of ‘rare blooms’ from his last herb run, inconspicuously arranged into a pretty bouquet, from one medicine maker to another. A new tea blend bought from a traveler at the midday market, sent by runner with a kind little card - only because they were friends, and Karl knew how much Josei loved her moonbell tea. A pretty book about tales from the south, bound in orange leather, which just so happened to be her favorite color. An invitation to come try a fresh batch of apple cider he’d brewed the other night, an exclusive taste-test for his dear friend before he put it out in the shop for others to enjoy.

Little gifts, polite words, and a lot of self-conscious blushing. One very irritated Josei.

Mao had a great time teasing her over it. Unfortunately… Josei had found an opportunity for revenge. He nearly dropped the mortar and pestle as Josei casually mentioned;

“I heard about a bit of fuss last night. Apparently a pair of foxes ran through the crowd in the Red Light District. One had black fur.”

The height Josei’s eyebrows achieved at that casual bit of gossip might have set some kind of record. Mao just stuttered, embarrassed at having been seen.

“O-oh? What a coincidence. Probably was a feral one.”

Josei wasn’t fooled. “Perhaps. Funny that, foxes. Lara said she got nary a moment of sleep, the poor lass. Foxes screaming mating calls all night on the roof tops. I guess it’s just that time of the year huh.”

Mao’s face burned. “It wasn’t mating calls-”

“Sure, sure, foxes make all kinds of sounds, don’t they? But who could blame them for getting a little noisy while flirting. It’s the nature of the wild.”

Josei hummed smugly to herself. Mao debated taking up a life as a hermit in the kitchen nook. He could probably learn how to sleep sitting up if he couldn’t fit in there laying down. Maybe he’d train Tulip to deliver supplies to him. Would need to barricade the door. He’d been thinking about moving out anyways.

“I’ll go on a herb run.” He decided to flee into the woods instead. They were surely running low on… something. Yes, a run through the forest would do him good.

“Pick some swallowreed if you spot any. Riarin’s ladies have been running low on the oil we make with it. Very good for the skin that. Nice smell too. Maybe you’d like some for-”

Mao fled out the door so fast that Josei broke out into an evil fit of cackles. Tulip eyed her in silent shock and approval. She was learning his evil ways excellently, a star pupil, truly. Now if only she’d been a chicken, then he could have taught her how to scream at the sun. It was an artform few ever mastered.

-

The Maple Woods offered the flustered fox some much needed sanctuary. Spring was in full swing now and the wind made sure that anyone with a proper nose knew of it. The trees bloomed, the grass grew in celebration of the sun’s return, and birds sang with more cheer than their tiny bodies could fit in silence. Mao left his basket near a stream where he could easily find it later, looked around for anyone that might notice him, then once the coast was clear, put on his fox mask and turned.

At once the world turned so much brighter. Its many scents intensified, and even the faintest of sounds became audible to his sensitive ears. Mao took a moment to shake himself, feeling clumps of his winter coat falling off where his thinner summer fur had started to grow. It made him feel itchy, but it was a good kind of itch. It meant that warmer times were ahead.

As fun as it was to bounce through the snow, to dash through piles of dry leaves, and to spy on hibernating animals, Mao liked the warm seasons a lot more. They just felt so much more alive. They were times of activity, of running about and seeing what had chanced during winter’s long rest. Spring made him feel as if his every nerve was vibrating with unspent energy, an untapped reservoir filled to bursting from the long snowy months.

After a moment of simply standing and smelling the breeze, the fox took off into the underbrush. Green of every shade and hue flashed past him as he ran. Every step came with a rustle of fresh leaves, and if he opened his mouth he could snag fresh buds and early flowers as he went past them... And enough grass to choke on if he did it for too long.

Mao stopped running to hack and cough. His fur rose in discomfort until the offending wad of grass lurched out of his throat and went splat on the ground. The fox glared at it, then looked around to make sure that no one had seen his blunder. A red naped woodpecker gave him a funny look from its perch high up on a pine branch, so Mao barked at it and it flew off. Birds… They could be smug bastards. Always snooping on you from the trees. They did have some good qualities though.

A bit of sniffing around soon found him a tree with low enough branches for climbing. An old maple with wide, star shaped leaves. Reminded of the weightless grace of the 3 tailed stranger, Mao tried his best to mimick their flowing gait. He scaled the tree like a gust of wind, a blur of black fur surging up and around the wide trunk. It was an exciting way to move, to feel your claws dig in and propel you upwards. He still slipped and had to scramble at times, but there were plenty of branches to catch himself on as he went.

Regular foxes couldn’t move like that. There was magic in a Wild One’s body and Mao delighted in the way it sprung forth when he wanted to move. He could feel it surging through his limbs like a faint prickle. His climb left him panting but content once he’d reached a branch near the top of the tree. A bird’s nest sat there, nestled between lush bushels of leaves, hidden from sight but not from his nose.

5 rather small eggs lay within the carefully built nest, unguarded and ripe for the taking. Mao wolfed them down with a wide grin on his muzzle. An easy treat~ Life as a fox was pretty good.

After some more running, a bit of frolicking in a glade, and a fearful flight from an ornery badger, Mao turned back to his human form. He retrieved his basket from the place by the stream, stretched, then went off to find himself some herbs. He took it easy, winded after his run on all fours and without the stress of actually needing to find anything- He had filled the shop’s stock with fresh herbs recently, so there really wasn’t a need for this other than to escape Josei’s teasing.

He went home in the evening and found that his mother had left a note. She was off to do laundry with some friends down in the Farmlands, which left Mao alone to mind the shop. That suited him just fine.

A runner-kid came by later on to deliver a letter for Mao. That was rare considering letters - being light and all, mostly went by crow. To pay for a runner was a bit more expensive, which made it either a safety precaution - people did sometimes lure the crows down with treats to steal mail - or a richer man’s flourish.

It turned out to be a letter from Joseph which invited Mao to ‘enjoy a fine beverage at their usual haunt.’ Code for ‘I found something and we need to discuss it discreetly’. Joseph loved his codes and sneaky messages. He, Mao, and Tobby had a whole slew of them that they used from time to time.

Mao’s best guess over what this secret meeting was about was… The dead noble.

They should have finished the autopsy by now. Had they found something odd when cutting up the corpse? The cause of death probably, but why did Joseph feel the need to give Mao the details in person, rather than just writing it down? Suspicions made Mao’s hair rise on end. He had a bad feeling about this.

-

Their ‘usual haunt’ was a cozy bar in the Red Light District. A rather large one with plenty of low tables to sit around and paper screens for nearly every wall. It meant that if you wanted a bit of fresh air you could slide one open and enjoy the nightly breeze. Or people-watch if looking at tourists and rowdy drunks stumbling about was your choice of entertainment.

Mao found Joseph and Tobby waiting for him by a corner table, a few bottles of weak mead and cider stacked on the table. It wasn’t that they were heavy drinkers. This small stock of beverages would last them the rest of the night. A bit hasty maybe to buy it all at once rather than take their time and refill the glasses over time, but they had a good reason for it.This trio of friends had a trick that most patrons of the bar would have hesitated to pull off - which meant that it lent them some much valued privacy.

Past the paper screens in their corner of the building lay a bit of a drop. The bar was built on a slope - as most buildings were here in the mountain city, so people sitting on this side of the building would get a lovely view of the street a level below. There was a pair of planks balanced on the edge of the bar’s terrace, and the edge of a roof on a building on the level below. It made for an unsteady bridge to those that were brave - or foolish enough to try it. Falling off would for sure break some bones.

Upon seeing their friend arrive, Tobby grabbed the bottles, balancing them by the necks in either hand, then led the other two through the open paper screen and onto the plank. Tobby had the balance of a cat and Mao wasn’t too shabby either, but Joseph always paled a bit when it was his turn to cross. Peer pressure and practice usually got him over safely, with both Mao and Tobby ready to dash over and catch him if the noble wobbled a bit too much.

Their end destination was the roof of an empty home located on a residential street of the Red Light District, right below their favorite bar. Rumour was that it was heavily haunted, but not in the fun way that created dares and bold pranks. Most of the time it was just drafty, stank of mold, and it had a habit of inviting varying kinds of bug infestations.

It lay abandoned mostly and thus it was a perfect spot to hang out on top of for a trio of secretive young men. They had a rope ladder to get down from on the side of the building, because to cross via the plank once drunk would be a really bad idea.

Technically they could have used it to get up too, but climbing a rope ladder while holding bottles and mugs… well, it wasn’t well advised. Neither was using a plank to cross a drop as tall as a building, nor sitting on the roof of a derelict old house… But the combined wisdom of a group of young men was often selective at best.

Joseph crossed without dying and sat down with a sigh of relief.

“No matter how many times I cross that cursed plank, it always feels like I’ll slip to my death.”

Tobby popped a cider bottle open and went to fill their cups. “You’re getting better at it each time. We could always bring some pillows and put them on the street below for you.”

Joseph scoffed. “And watch as some street ruffian makes off with them? Please.”

“You’re never going to let the shoe theft thing go, are you?” Mao snickered. Joseph’s cheeks grew rosy at the reminder, but he stood his ground with a huff.

He’d dropped a shoe from the roof once somehow, and a group of cheeky drunks had made off with it, probably as a prank. No amount of yelling had gotten it back, nor had Joseph been quick enough down the ladder to fetch it before they disappeared down a street. Mao was pretty sure they’d tossed the shoe down a well.

The noble’s ire calmed as Tobby passed him a cup.

“So what’s tonight’s conspiracy? I heard you found something out about the dead noble.” Tobby leaned back on the roof and gave the noble a curious look.

“It’s not exactly a conspiracy…” Joseph muttered, but a gleam of excitement twinkled in his eye. Something was up for sure, and the noble loved a good mystery. Mao leaned forwards, now curious too.

Joseph cleared his throat, straightened up a bit, then when the other two nagged at him to spit it out already, explained.

“The killer stole his heart and liver. No idea how, but it’s like it was sucked up through the mouth. It’s definitely Wilds related.”

Tobby and Mao lost their bravador at once. A Wild murder? In the city? That wasn’t good.

Mao was the first to make a comment. “Is it related to the first murder? Did the watch find out about it yet?”

Joseph’s expression grew troubled. “I may have let it slip to the captain… She threw a fit- that is to say, she got up from her desk and stormed off with an oath. I caught up with her just in time to see her push her way past the Hunters’ guarding the Guild entrance. They wouldn’t let me follow her inside but she was furious once she returned.”

Tobby frowned. “That might not have been a good idea, telling her that is.”

“The Watch should know,” Joseph objected. “This isn’t some incident they can keep secret. People have been killed.”

“Yes but now people other than the Guild knows about it, and the Watch can’t do a whole lot if it ends up being a man-eating Wild One,” Tobby shot back.

Joseph clearly wanted to object against that, but his mouth hung open as he failed to come up with a good argument. While he knew a decent amount about the Wilds, he was nowhere near as knowledgeable about it as Mao or Tobby. Everyone knew that Wild Ones killing people meant trouble though. Which upset the young noble who idolized the Watch.

Mao decided to help his friend out despite suspecting that it was a moot point. “Couldn’t they work together? The Hunters are good but they’re not the Watch.”

Joseph’s face grew hesitant at that and Tobby just frowned. The ginger took a deep sip from his mug of cider then stated in a grim voice,

“The Watch and the Guild don’t get along. If it’s a Wild One that’s the killer then the Watch won’t get em. The Guild would never turn them over to the law. It would be a slaughter.”

“I think you underestimate the Watch-” Joseph began but Tobby cut him off.

“You underestimate the Wild Ones. Something that can eat your innards without leaving a wound? That’s not natural, which means it has magic. There ain’t any witches in the Watch to counter that.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Then how would the Hunters fare any better…” Joseph sounded doubtful but Tobby just scoffed.

“The Hunters exist to counter the Wilds. They’re specialized to deal with exactly this kind of thing, not to enforce human law.”

Mao sensed a fight and went to interrupt. “The Hunters think it’s a fox.”

That made his friends pause.

Joseph glanced at the fox mask hanging off Mao’s belt, pursed his lips, but made no comment about it. He probably knew that Mao wasn’t entirely human… yet they’d never talked about it. Tobby? Joseph might have his suspicions about Tobby too. Joseph loved mystery after all, but to reveal a Wild One wasn’t usually a good idea, even if they were friends.

Mao had debated telling him before, but he never really had the courage to get those words out. It was a dangerous secret, for all that he trusted Joseph. One of those few things his instincts screamed at him not to do.

“How’d they know?” Tobby tried to look unbothered but Mao could see a hint of worry in the way his jaw tensed.

“Scent. Their trackers actually erh… interrogated me. I may have been to the Red Lantern on the same night when the first victim was killed.”

Joseph spat out his drink. Tobby glared at his now cider covered shirt. The noble made a flustered apology but the ginger just snorted, more amused than offended. Yet when he looked at Mao again, Tobby’s eyes were sharp.

“Did they think you did it?” he asked.

“Not really, but they had to check. I-”

Joseph finally recovered from his shock and blurted out, “Why were you in the Red Lantern?” Apparently Mao being at a brothel at night had his attention more than the fact that Mao had become a murder suspect.

Mao blinked… then blushed. “Not to- I was chasing that thief. Remember the market?”

Joseph’s confusion cleared but Tobby had to stop him to ask about the thief. He hadn’t heard, so Mao spent a moment filling him in.

“Merchants hiring thieves? I wish I could say it surprised me…” Tobby just sighed. Joseph looked shocked.

“But why would they resort to that? Thievery is against the law!” He blushed as the other two gave him a blank look.

“More to sell?” Mao offered.

“It’s free merchandise.” Tobby concluded. Joseph spluttered, looked at them both, then shook his head in disgust. He motioned for Mao to continue while refilling his cup. The fox snickered but obliged.

“So… Ulven took me aside at morning practice. We talked a bit, he trusted me when I told him that I didn’t do it, so we left it there. He told me the cause of death was a torn throat though, and Gin said it was gutting. Someone is lying.”

“Who’s Gin?” Tobby asked.

Mao hesitated.

“Some bartender Riarin knows.”

“I know most bartenders. Haven’t met a Gin. Funny name for a bartender.” Tobby frowned.

Mao tried to remember where the bar was. He pointed over the rooftops towards the end of Red Light’s main street.

“Bar’s right where the main street ends. Low roof and no windows. Has a backroom that’s kind of weird.”

This time it was Tobby’s turn to spray his drink in shock. Joseph looked impressed by it, yet to comprehend what the fuss was about.

“That’s the Lucky Lady!” Tobby exclaimed.

“The what?” Mao was confused.

“The murder bar!” Tobby turned from face to face but got only confused looks. Mao got it after a moment but Joseph remained clueless.

“The- wait… Wait I was in the bar where people disappear?”

It was an urban legend, a rumor, a bit of nasty gossip. At the end of the Red Light District sits a bar with no windows. The bartender is nice enough, polite but without patience for trouble makers. Ironically enough his tolerance for the shady sorts was rather high, which meant that the bottom of the barrel tended to be his main crowd. It was a place to avoid if you valued your safety. Or your pockets.

Despite this, even Gin of the Lucky Lady had a line you couldn’t cross without consequences. Start a fight, get a little too rude, or just get enough on his nerves and you were told to leave. If you didn’t? He took you to the backroom.

“...And what then?” Joseph’s eyes were wide as Tobby filled him in on one of Redlog’s many horror stories.

“Then you disappear. You don’t come back out. Gin goes in and out but no one else that enters the back room ever returns.”

That made the noble frown. “Wouldn’t the Watch catch him for that?”

Tobby shrugged and tried to sound mysterious. “Nobody knows how, but he always gets away with it. Probably has some of the Watch in his pocket or something. Bribes and deals. He keeps the worst kinds off the streets and happily drinking in his bar, so I bet that’s the reason they tolerate him.”

“No way…” Joseph was doubtful.

Mao was busy trying not to hyperventilate. He’d gone into the murder bar? Hells, Gin had turned. He’d almost died! Disappeared like all the others! It made him shiver despite the warm breeze.

“Ask anyone that knows the local worst. Remember Stabby Pete?” Tobby went on. He glared as Joseph snorted.

“Wait- we had someone called that? That’s a silly name.”

“Not so silly when he stabs you! He was a real menace back when he was active. Temper snapped like that and then the blade was out. Real dangerous fellow.” Tobby puffed up with the pride of someone who was in the know. Joseph squinted.

“Wouldn’t the Watch have arrested him for that?”

“They were too slow,” Tobby said. “Old fool went to the Lucky Lady one night. Tried his usual posturing on Gin. Guy wouldn’t have it. People say he dodged the stabs and lured old Stabby into the backroom. Came back some time later without so much as a scratch. No Pete since then.”

Joseph tried to spot a bluff in Tobby’s tale. Then when he couldn’t find it… he shuddered. “That’s vile. Anyone else?”

“There’s Backdeals Martha, Curbstomp Jack, Clubbing Donald-” Tobby began listing local criminals. Joseph cut him off with grimace.

“You’re making those up.”

“They’re real! I swear on the Havre name!” Tobby stood his ground. “Surely you’ve heard about Snipper Kevin?” Mao snorted at the name but Joseph actually blinked in surprise.

“Snipper Kevin? Dumb name but I actually- he went to the Lucky Lady?”

“Who’s Snipper Kevin?” Mao had to know now. Joseph gave him a wide eyed look, a mixture of wonder and disbelief.

“He used to steal sticklings from the gardens on Noble Street.”

“Wait that’s why he’s called Snipper Kevin?” Mao couldn’t believe his ears. “I thought it was something more- you know, evil?” Joseph blinked.

“It’s theft but not much more than that. Destruction of property?” Joseph looked uncertain but Tobby nodded sagely, arms folded.

“Yep yep, but Gin caught him trying to snag bits of his hedges outside the Lucky Lady and into the back room he went, never to be seen again.”

“But Snipper Kevin was arrested.” Joseph said.

Tobby blinked, caught off guard.

“What? No, he disappeared.”

“I read the report myself. Arrested and sent off to Lilybed for public service as a punishment. I heard he got employment in one of the water gardens after impressing the gardeners. Never came back since.”

Tobby was askance, wind taken right out of his sails. “That can’t be true… Really? Are you sure? But he went into the backroom…”

“Maybe Gin turns them in to the Watch in secret? I bet the bar’s reputation is enough to keep his shiftier patrons in line. It’s a good trick.” Joseph offered

The noble looked pleased enough about his conclusion that the local legend wasn’t actually a hub of unsolved murders, but Tobby looked like someone had canceled Jul. He sat back with a weary sigh. Mao gave him a pat on the back.

“Maybe he only turns in a few.” Mao suggested. “I got out of there alive. He was… scary. I think he works with Riarin.”

That had his courier friend perking back up again. Tobby sat forwards with that curios glint of someone sensing a new tale in his eyes.

“Truly? Now you gotta tell us what happened in there. How’d he know to grab you in the first place?”

Mao made a grimace and tried to hide it by sipping from his cup.

“I may have been snooping around… The Hunters made me curious about it. Gin caught me on my way out. Knocked me out and-”

“He knocked you out?!” Joseph looked horrified at the prospect. Mao just blinked. Tobby waved for him to go on.

“Erh- yea, with owleye I think. It’s a strong sedative herb. I think it’s to prevent mice and the like from eating its bulbs when it’s time to flower. It’s actually a kind of cool way to-”

“Yea yea yea, more about the Lucky Lady, not the herbs.” Tobby was impatient, but even Joseph looked caught up in the excitement now. Here was a proper tale with mystery and murder. Feeling the pressure to make it a good one, Mao cleared his throat.

“So yea, he drugged me and I woke up in… the backroom. It was weird in there.”

“Details!” Tobby urged him on.

“Uhm, it was all stone floor but smooth. Like, really smooth. And warm. Didn’t have any lights other than a big furnace burning at the back. I guess it’s because- erh…” Mao paused and gave Joseph an uncertain glance. He probably shouldn’t reveal that Gin was a snake…

“So he woke me up and started asking me questions. Wanted to know what I’d been doing in the Red Lantern. I think he suspected me of the murder. Pretty sure he would have kicked me around if I hadn’t talked faster. Then Riarin showed up.”

Mao skipped the details about how he’d been scared enough to throw up by Gin shifting to his true form. They weren’t important details. His friends hung onto his every word, eyes sharp with curiosity - and in Joseph’s case, probably the start of some wild theory.

“So the Red Lantern people are involved with the death… or are they just investigating because it happened in their establishment? I guess it would be a stain on their reputation…” The noble mumbled to himself, eyes flickering with a flood of ideas.

Mao flicked Joseph’s forehead and grinned at how it startled the noble.

“What? Oh- ahem.” Face flushing with embarrassment, Joseph cleared his throat, and took a gulp from his cup- only to splutter at the strong content. Tobby handed him the water while the noble coughed.

“It’s probably about reputation, though the Red Light folks also have a streak of vengeance in them. They might be trying to get to the killer first. Set an example so it’s not tried again within their territory.” Tobby mused while patting Joseph on the back.

Despite his unintentional chug of cider and the following consequences, Joseph’s eyes were glittering. Mao just shrugged, feeling more concerned than excited.

“Either way, we have a killer on the loose.” Mao paused, brow furrowing at a sudden thought. “What eh, what would the Red Light people do if they get the killer first? And what about the Hunters?”

Joseph’s eyes shifted from one to the other, listening sharply. Tobby thought for a moment then hesitantly gave his best guess. He wasn’t entirely certain himself.

“The Hunters would probably turn em over to the Watch if it’s a human, if not…” The ginger man drew a line across his neck and grimaced dramatically.

Joseph gave him a wide eyed look and Mao frowned. Was that good? He wasn’t certain. For all that he looked up to the Hunters, some of their ways didn’t sit right with him. There were good reasons they were feared by most.

“As for the Red Light,” Tobby paused, took a sip of his cider that was far more careful than Joseph’s flustered gulp, then continued. “Maybe they’ll kill em, cut the thumbs off, and hang them from the main door or something.”

Joseph gaped in horror. Mao threw a bottle cork at Tobby and the ginger’s nonchalant facade crumbled into laughter. “Sorry! I just had to. Joseph looked like he would fall off the roof!”

The noble’s face colored as Tobby cackled. He was more hesitant to throw something at Tobby, even if he clearly wanted to. Mao tore a piece of crowsmoss off a shingle and put it in Joseph’s hand. The noble eyed it, considered the importance of staying calm and dignified - as nobles were supposed to appear at all times - then deemed it a lost cause and nailed Tobby in the face with the dry lump of moss.

Tobby proved himself a man of many strange talents by managing to get the moss lump in his mouth, and now it was Mao’s turn to wheeze with cackles as the runner coughed and spat. Joseph looked both flustered and mighty proud of himself.

This kind of tomfoolery wouldn’t fly among the noble crowds, but Mao and Tobby were a far cry from the stuck up - or just strictly raised, folks of Noble Road. Still, habits learned from birth were hard to overcome, even in trusted company. It was a good thing that Mao was always ready to tempt Joseph with the vile evils of pranks and tossing moss at people. Truly the most disgraceful of conduct for a man of rank and high heritage.

Tobby spat out the moss and tried to throw it in Mao’s face. The grinning medicine maker dodged and it hit a shingle with a wet splat.

The runner spat to the side, gagged, then coughed. “As I was saying…” He shot Mao’s smug mug a glare. “The Red Light folks would probably just beat em up a bit, maybe take an ear if they feel nasty- don’t you dare throw that Mao.”

Mao patted the patch of moss growing next to him innocently. Tobby shot him a suspicious glare, then continued.

“I’m serious. For all they’re nice at the Red Lantern, they take guarding their part of the city seriously. They might not cut the killer up… but we’re likely to see them lying in a pile of their own puke or something out on the street come morning, all beaten up. They’ll let the Hunters or the Watch collect em after that. You don’t piss off the Red Light District.”

The group felt a cold wind roll across the roof.

It was true, the Red Light District defended their turf. The Watch would find any criminals there with just a few extra bruises, inconspicuously lying unconscious out in the open. The district had a tolerance for lesser crimes like pickpockets and the like, and children who tried their hand at something dumb mostly just got spooked or scolded. But break-ins or worse? That got you something broken. If anything the Watch catching you was a guarantee that the district folks wouldn’t mess you up.

Mao shuddered at the thought of what kind of beating murder might get you. Peak Street and other snobby places might call Red Light a slum full of crime and poorly checked ruffians, but the locals themselves had one thing and one thing only to say to that kind of business: Absolutely not. Take that shit elsewhere.

The trio sat in silence for a bit after that, chewing over what they knew. They felt a growing need to take the conversation into lighter directions, so Tobby shared that he had a big run tomorrow. The details of it had Joseph blinking in amazement and Mao frowning in disbelief.

“A deer? An entire dead deer? Wouldn’t you need a wagon or something for that?” Mao’s questions took some of the amazement out of Joseph’s look.

The noble wasn’t too familiar with what runner work usually entailed. A dead deer? That wasn’t something you just sent to someone. Nor was it within the weight class of what was usually acceptable for a single courier to handle.

Tobby squirmed on the spot.

“It’s a special job. They would send it by wagon usually- once it’s out of the woods and you can actually use one, but this one’s eh… in a bit of a hurry.”

Mao had a gnawing suspicion… but no, surely not… “And why can’t it wait til the hunters return with their full catch?”

Hunters without the capital ‘h’. The regular kind that… hunted. Not the Wilds fighting, werewolf shifting, badassery of the Guild’s Hunters. Just regular hunters. It almost felt a bit strange to use the word ‘hunter’ for its original purpose.

“The season’s just started. It’ll be weeks at best until they make the trip back from the deep woods. Unless they catch more than expected and have to leave early.”

It was a fair bit of distance from Redlog and into the deeper parts of the Maple Woods. A distance most hunters only covered once they’d stacked up on pelts, meat, and other products of their trade. Why go back and forth after every hunt if you could do it all at once in a single day instead? Any hunters that sent their meat into town fresh would usually be hiking out in the fairer parts of the woods, which meant less danger and easier terrain. The downside was that most big game kept to the deeper parts. Not that small game wasn’t a good meal. Mao himself was partial towards rabbit.

There was more to hunting than that of course, and Joseph surprised Mao by being a bit more in the know about the customs of hunters than his expertise in other trades.

“Who needs a dead deer in a hurry? The Lilja family?”

A local noble house of apothecaries. Their family crest was a glass vial holding a murklily, a special kind of herb that… Mao frowned. Tobby’s cheeks were growing red, and that wasn’t because of the cider. His crush, Maridot, was of the Lilja family. Mao started connecting the dots.

“Erh- well yes, the Lilja family are the ones that need it- but this is confidential, guys. Don’t tell anyone.” Tobby was trying hard to keep his face straight.

Joseph began to grin but Mao kept his frown.

Murklily grew within carcasses found in the wild, or in dead trees. Fungus could devour the plants quickly though, so their blooms were a short lived rarity. It was a potent kind of herb used mainly to ward off maggots, flies, and various parasites. Its potency was double-edged though, as without being mixed with an infection killer, the risk of inviting disease spiked sharply.

If you were of the superstitious kind, then you took the appearance of murklily as a good sign if it sprouted from the corpse of someone dearly departed. Some would refuse to bury their dead until murklily appeared, taking its absence as a sign that the soul had yet to leave the living world.

This practise was somewhat frowned upon as keeping a corpse around as it rotted invited a whole host of other issues, but those that upheld the custom did so adamantly. To them, the gentle white bell-flowers were a last goodbye from the deceased. One last token of love, a reassurance that death had been kind, and led the lost towards a good place to rest.

The custom survived because murklily was relatively easy to let sprout. Their seeds were small and plentiful, nearly a fine kind of dust. Nigh impossible to see if not gathered in quantity, but able to enter all but air tight places. They did not dry up and die over time, so a single seed could wait for years for a suitable host to take root in. They were notoriously hard to keep though, being brittle and prone to fungus and other sources of decay overtaking them. And while useful in medicine, only a few families deemed the effort of cultivating them past the first bloom worth it.

The Lilja family was among those few. Mao just couldn’t figure out why. They didn’t make and sell medicine like other healers in Redlog. They had built their legacy upon the trade, but left it alone most of the time after that. If not for medicine, then the Lilja family needed to cultivate the herb for ceremony, to show off their family crest. A largely grown murklily would be a sign of expertise, ancestral blessings, and good luck in whatever ventures the ceremony was held for.

Joseph and Mao both badgered Tobby for answers, tossing suggestions for what it might be for to no avail. Tobby’s lips were sealed. A funeral? Marriage? Some important announcement? Mao was itching with curiosity to know why. Especially if it was in a hurry. The plant grew slowly past its first blooming cycle. It would take weeks to go from the first regular buds and flowers to the huge blooms the Lilja family would need to impress, possibly months.

And a huge host-corpse for the roots to feed on the entire time. Too small and the flowers would wither from a lack of nutrients. Transplanting them from one body to another wasn’t an option either with how brittle the plant was.

What were the nobles planning? If not even Joseph knew - and Joseph kept his ear to the ground more than to common sense in the hopes of catching some grand misdeed with the net of the law.

“I can’t tell you, guys, seriously, just drop it.” Tobby sighed at his friends’ disappointed looks. “I know we gossip about all kinds of things- but this is serious. Noble business. I can’t share it. Besides... I promised Maridot.”

Sighs and grumbles about how being lovestruck made Tobby grow boring and uptight. All in good humor of course. They were happy for him, mostly, but surely Maridot could appreciate a bit of gossiping too. Just a little bit. Mao told them about his visit to the murder bar after all! What were a few secrets spilled between friends, eh?

They settled down after a bit but Tobby kept fidgeting on the spot. He had something left to say after all. He grimaced as he spat it out at last.

“Erhm… I might need some extra hands to transport the deer though…”

Joseph blanched at the idea of carrying a dead animal. Mao just grimaced, and teased poor Tobby about making promises he might not be able to keep, even for love. Then when the ginger lad’s shoulders sank in resignation, he sighed dramatically and offered his help.

Carrying a dead deer from a hunter’s log in the deep woods and into Redlog. How hard could it be?