Brosnock is a beautiful nation. Though the name may bring to mind rocks, boulders, and dirt, that assertion couldn’t be farther from the truth.

The biome used to be a densely tropical forest. A variety of plants and animals fed upon these woods and called them home. As settlers intruded, they clear-cut the forests. The soil was rich, the climate was warm, and farmers flocked to the lands. While some of the forests do remain, they are no longer as vast as in prior generations. Instead, their graveyards are filled with homes, cities, and plentiful farms providing food for the entire continent.

The economy is one of the strongest of the four countries on the Derora continent. Viorna and Zalevet are utterly reliant upon their foods. In the recent decade, Zalevet has not been purchasing as much, but it has not hurt the Brosnock economy enough to matter. The citizens of Brosnock are fat, happy, and wealthy. A sure sign of prosperity.

But that does not mean it is sterilized of misfortune.

As absolute as the blueness of the sky or the red of blood, evil people exist regardless of the conditions man puts up to stop it.

“You got money to blow, Raph?” a man by the name of Luger grunts.

“I’ve got plenty of money! More than I’ve ever seen in my entire life!” Raph roars. He smashes his wooden mug onto the table. He wipes booze as it gurgles accidentally past his lips.

“Ay, we had a good lead,” agrees the third man at the table, Biorn.

“Easy pickings,” says the fourth and final member, Sirah. She plays with her hair as a devilish smile accents her lips.

“And you didn’t let me in on it?!” complains Luger. He’s whiney. It’s his nature.

“We couldn’t. It was while we were lent out to guard that farming shipment,” Biorn explains.

“But you left me out of that, too!” Luger points an accusing finger. “How am I supposed to get some work if even my friends won’t shill out tips for me?!”

“You can barely hold a crossbow, Luger. You’re lucky we’re paying your tab,” asserts Sirah. She eyes Luger carefully.

Luger gulps. “Right. Sorry.” He adverts his gaze for a moment. His eyes return to Raph. “What was the gig?”

“It was a little hush-hush type of deal. You’ll keep your lips shut, right?” says Raph. He leans forward as his voice dips.

“You know it,” says Luger.

The largest city nearest to the Zalevet border on the Brosnok side is a massive town named Respite. As Zalevet is an import nation that gets supplies from other continents, Respite has become a mecca of goods. Not only was it the first town established within the country, but it also serves as a hub for the entire continent. Goods from all four countries can be found here, as well as items from outside the mainland.

The crime is relatively well-managed, but a town like Respite breeds it whether the local rulers want it or not. Black market trades. Smuggling. Illegal border crossing. Assassins. Blacklisted mercenaries. Many people living there are willing to do any job for the right price.

In a bar in the slums of this city, four people discuss a job. Their conversation is but one of many had that day in that establishment.

“Fine,” Raph begins his tale. “We’re guarding this shipment of herbs, seeds, and spices across the border back to Zalevet. The guy who hired us wanted to save money on protection. Apparently, he’d already been overcharged for the shit he was peddling and was hoping to save a buck. Whatever. It put money in our pockets.”

“Not that much,” grumbles Sirah.

“But we got lucky,” Biorn adds.

“We really did,” agrees Raph. “We crossed the border officially. Didn’t have to do any sketchy shit like skirt soldiers or border patrol, but we did spend half a day’s journey being looked over by security.”

Sirah rolls her eyes. “Wanted to tear out my damned eyes. I was so bored!”

“It was not fun,” grants Raph. “but it was fine. We got through. Spent the next few days going from town to town peddling the goods off at some merchants our guy had contacts with. Our final shipment was the seeds. We brought them to a town called Water’s Bastion. Beautiful place. Lots of farmland. Our guy was selling them to the local agricultural official, whatever that means. They’re growing seeds from our country and doing a hell of a job, too.”

“So?”

“Exactly. So? Didn’t matter in the slightest. But it was in Water’s Bastion we got a lick of a job at a local bar,” Raph says with a smirk. “Heard word from some locals that were planning to rob this rich woman traveling to see her kids. Her husband died, so she was transporting goods with a small group of guards. Their inheritance. Easy pickings, they said, but they were worried about the guard threats.”

“Naturally,” agrees Sirah.

Biorn makes a motion between him, Sirah, and Raph. “We offered to help for a mere ten-percent split between the three of us.”

“And you got this much money?!” Luger stares at his occasional comrades with dismay. “Guys. Come on. Not fair.”

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Sirah raises a calm hand. “We haven’t finished the story yet. Chill.”

“They accepted our help cause we were selling for cheap. Our protection job had us in layover for a week. This other job would finish in five days. We were in the clear and would be out of the country before anyone suspected us. The perfect crime,” Raph proceeds. He sips more beer from his mug.

“We hit the wagon with the other guys. It was easy pickings. The old lady had a driver and three men with her. Including the three of us, we had eight attacking. We lost one guy in the initial conflict, but the job went really well,” explains Biorn.

Sirah giggles. “When it was over, and the locals were screaming of their success, we killed them pronto before they even knew what happened.”

“Ten percent became a hundred in one slash of steel,” grunts Raph.

“Ruthless.” Luger’s mouth gapes open in awe. “Good thinking.”

“Right?” Raph raises his hands in a superior way. “It was a good haul. We made it look like the locals had a falling out. We hid some of the bodies in case the guards knew who these assholes were. That way, they’d be searching for them while we dipped.”

Luger smacks the table. “Genius!”

“It was my idea, so thanks,” adds Sirah.

“Did you have to tell him that?” groans Raph.

“You got to kill the most people. Be proud of that,” says Biorn.

“I guess. That does make me feel a little better,” allows Raph.

“And you stayed in Water’s Bastion for a week?” says a voice that, to this moment, has not been a part of this conversation.

“A little longer than that, but—” Raph stops talking. He blinks. “Huh?”

Sitting on the ground beside Raph’s chair to his left is a woman. Raph can tell from her voice. She wears a dark cloak. The hood is drawn over her head. Still, she seems relaxed. Her body reclines against Raph’s chair as if they’re best buds.

Raph recoils in his seat. He points his finger at the back of the cloaked woman’s neck. “Who the fuck are you?!”

“I don’t think you need to know that to answer my question,” challenges the cloaked woman.

“Alright, bitch.” Biorn stands up. He grabs the woman by her arm. “Time to le—”

Biorn collapses to the ground. Blood flows from his eyes, ears, and nose.

“What the—”

“Sit. Down.” The cloaked woman’s voice is calm and cold.

“Fuck you!” shouts Sirah. She stands up. Her hand immediately goes to her belt, where she keeps a collection of throwing knives.

An arrow plucks her in the skull.

Sirah sinks into her seat. Her head leans over the back as the arrow protrudes out like a morbid marker.

Raph looks about. He spots two men sitting at a table near the back of the bar. One is leaning back in a chair with a short bow sitting in his arms. Another arrow sits upon its string.

It is very late at night—well past two. The bar is not filled with many patrons. Those who are there watch the situation in horror. None dare intrude. Violence is not uncommon in the slums, particularly not in this bar and indeed not of this nature.

“Tell me about the place you visited.” The cloaked woman grabs Raph’s face. She jerks him towards her until they’re looking into each other’s eyes.

Raph feels his blood run cold.

It’s the woman’s eyes.

They’re a deep gold.

“Y-Y-You’re...a Voiced,” says Raph after a moment of stuttering.

“A VOICED?!” screams Luger. He’s been staring in shock the entire time. He gets up to leave. Terror fills his eyes.

The other patrons follow. The word “Voiced” is shouted many more times. The people flee. Even the owner. Soon, only the two men at the table in the back, the Voiced, and Raph, remain in the tavern. The only people still alive, that is.

“You mentioned that Water’s Bastion had a booming agriculture sector. They’re trying to grow our crops, right? Care to answer a few questions?” the Voiced asks. Two-toned, split black and white hair shines through her hood.

Raph nods as the Voiced continues to hold his face and his life in her hands.

“Were the fields filled?”

Raph nods.

“Were the markets plentiful?”

Raph nods.

“Good quality?”

Raph nods.

“Was the food you ate all local? Do you know that?”

Raph pauses.

“Well?”

“T-The cooks boasted of local produce and meat,” Raph distinctly remembers

“And what of other towns outside of this territory? Were they going hungry?”

“I don’t know,” Raph says honestly.

“Hmmm.” The Voiced contemplates the answer. “Okay then. Were the food prices the same, lower, or more expensive outside of Water’s Bastion?”

“The same.”

“And as compared to here?”

“Around the same price. Maybe a bit cheaper.”

The Voiced purses her lips. “Hmm. That’s very interesting. Thank you.”

“Will you—”

The Voiced twists the man’s head completely around until his gaze is directly behind him. Raph feels the blood vessels in his eyes burst. Immense pain like two waves crashing together smashes between his eyes as his throat begins to collapse. Darkness takes him soon after as he slumps over onto the floor.

“I feel like taking a trip,” the Voiced remarks. She looks up at the men at her table. “Ever been to Water’s Bastion?”