Many of Lavenia’s knights were stationed at Leonhold, but it wasn’t the only city in the country and those certainly weren’t the only places worth protecting. The plains that made up much of the realm were vast, and the townships within them frequented by as many patrols as possible. Times were peaceful now, but there didn’t need to be a war for people to be in danger. Keeping the commonfolk safe took men who were made of stern stuff.

Right now, the knight overseeing the area wished he’d been made sterner. His breakfast that morning was threatening to come up and take a look at it himself. “So, you found it like this?” he asked, trying to keep his tone firm.

“Wished I hadn’t, but yes Sire, yes I did,” the merchant rambled. If anyone needed a reassuring presence, it was him. You couldn’t say he looked like he’d seen a ghost, because the sight before them both was all too real. “Came up the road to barter with him same as always, and it was uh, just like this.”

‘It’ was a small farm on the outskirts of Levenia’s plains. Being willing to have a home so far from either city took a bit of bravery already, but it was a real sign of these peaceful times when someone was fine building it here. His grandparents must have told him different stories growing up.

Peace had left the farm many hours ago, and was probably better off for it. The gate leading in and much of the fence had been crushed or snapped apart, and what remained of the house was barely a skeleton. Only the barn had escaped the damage, probably simply by being enough out of the way.

Putting aside that the weather had been fine lately, this could have been damage from a storm. Until you saw what lay between the gate and the house: the farmer, or what was left of him. Not just him, either. Judging by the tracks nearby, at least some of his livestock had been fortunate enough to flee.

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It was easy to be afraid of the unknown, but right now the knight felt the opposite creeping up his spine: the fear of thinking he knew exactly what had happened here. He reached out to one side, picking up a tomato that had mostly survived the rampage. Then he, very carefully, dropped it on a particular spot near the farmer’s body, and watched the results.

“What about this?” he asked the merchant after a moment, gesturing to something a few feet before the farmer. It was another body, but much smaller, around the size of a child. “It was here when you arrived too?”

The merchant nodded feverishly, looking ready to see the last of this. Understandable, really. “Y-Yes,” he quavered. “I don’t know what happened here, Sire, I swear!”

“I believe you, only making sure,” the knight said reassuringly. He stooped over this body. It wasn’t in a much better state, but from the way it lay, the figure had been running toward the house. Exactly why, only the two bodies could have answered.

Standing, the knight turned and looked at what the farmstead had been built before. The farmer had been fine building it here, yet had still made sure the nearby forest would be within view at all times. Today the wind was calm, and the trees, vast and tall, were utterly still.

Frowning, the knight looked back at where he had dropped the tomato. The sight made him nod, grimly. He had never expected to see it in real life, but it was just like the books at the castle had said.

Around the bodies and the demolished house were many patches of blackened earth, each giving off smoke like a smoldering campfire. After a few moments of sitting within the one he’d picked, the tomato had crumbled to dust, just like the grass that had been there. In a way, that wasn’t even the worst part, however. The worst was the nature of the patches themselves.

Each was in the shape of a massive paw-print.