The journey to the borders of the former Three Houses lands was quiet and untroubled. The plains stretched away in all directions, with the occasional sign of a farm or small village in the distance.

Without the civil war raging, the area seemed almost idyllic, at least whenever neither of the pixies decided to make it rain blood.

The Express’ airhorn blasted as the stampeding animals swerved to avoid the giant machine. They ran back toward the Waystation, straight into the waiting mandibles of the enormous vehicle.

Blood literally fountained into the air, and the collected screams cut off as the animals died instantly, gathered into the stores for later use.

Scruff let out a shiver as the air horn blasted again. It had sighed more animals.

Mother and daughter had really bonded over the last few days, much to the detriment of the surrounding wildlife.

Supplies became an issue as the Waystation used up its reserves during the Civil War. Bell spent her time harrying the local animal life, especially the Armored Bison, which she loved the taste of; the Express was winding its way around the plains trying to find crops, cloth, passing trade, or any other method of rebuilding their stock.

The biggest problem was the dwindling reserves of Beer, Mead, and other alcoholic beverages. Dee was doing her best to figure out the brewing methods and machines left behind by the treacherous Trav, but to little effect so far.

The fact that they had rarely, if ever, charged anyone for food or drink was also a problem. The look on Dee’s face when Bert and Bell had told her this… well, it was a special moment.

In short, they were broke and had almost nothing but meat and hides to trade, which was why Bert was unable to come up with a good reason to stop the rampaging pixies.

It was a bit of a relief when they spotted the small village in the distance that was their destination. The place certainly looked in need to help. The walls were slumped over, barely standing while the gates hung open.

Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the farmland around the walls looked overgrown and ill-kept. Bell immediately bet everyone was dead, only to backtrack immediately as they saw people passing into and out of the gate as they got closer.

“They could still be dead!” Bell said, “Moving doesn’t mean alive!”

“That one is pissing on the wall, I think,” Bert noted.

“How do you know the undead don’t need a piss?” Bell said. “Maybe they don’t know they are dead.”

“Bell,” Bert chuckled.

“Fine, they are not dead,” Bell admitted grumpily. “But I bet there is something wrong with them.”

“Let’s go find out, shall we?” Bert asked.

“Wait,” Bell called. “Can we take the Express?” She patted the arm of her chair, “Leave Way Way here, where no one can see we are out of supplies?”

“Why?” Bert asked.

“Dee said that turning up with nothing but meat and hide would reflect badly on the Waystation,” Bell grumped. “Better to go in as traders dropping off supplies.”

“She’s probably right,” Bert sighed.

“I know,” Bell giggled. “I hate it.”

“Me too,” Bert chuckled, “Me too.”

==============

While Bud and the Orcs went on a foraging expedition in the area, Bert and Bell loaded up the Express with the supplies for the village and whatever meat and hide they could carry.

They left Dee, Wendy, and Scruff on the Waystation and headed off to the village.

“Any chance we can try and leave this place still standing?” Bert asked Bell as she fluttered around the inside of the Cab, tutting and tidying it up.

“Not up to me,” Bell shrugged. “That’s up to them.”

“True,” Bert laughed. “I think people just freak out once the big scary Fae people roll up.”

“That’s easily sorted,” Bell shrugged and changed form. She flopped into the chair next to Bert and tucked her hair into one of the many baseball caps that Wendy had left lying around. “One innocent human woman, right here.” She grinned.

“With that grin, no one is going to think you innocent.” Bert chuckled.

“What’s wrong with my grin?” She scowled at her reflection in the windscreen.

“Nothing,” Bert said. “You have the most amazing smile ever, but it isn’t an innocent smile.”

Bell gave him a strange look, then changed the subject.

“What’s the story with the girls?” She asked. “They together yet?”

“Yeah, they are trying really hard to keep it quiet, though.” Bert smiled. “It’s kind of sweet.”

“Why bother?” Bell asked. “Never mind, a welcoming party coming our way!” She pointed.

A group of guards had appeared at the village gate with a mage in the center of the line, casting a spell.

“If that spell hits the Express,” Bert growled, “I’m just going to drive over them.”

“Hah! See, I knew we were a good influence on you!” Bell laughed; she leaned out the window, “Hey, assholes! We brought your supplies!”

The Express rolled to a stop near the row of stern-looking guards.

“Identify yourself!” The mage was a dark-haired man with sunken eyes and a hooked nose. He would have been reasonably good-looking if it wasn’t for the twisted scowl on his face.

“Bert and Bell Hudson,” Bert called out the window. “Traders doing the Houses a favor by dropping off supplies.” He looked the mage in the eye. “Happy to just leave the stuff here and go if you like.”

The guards were exchanging desperate looks behind the mage’s back.

“That will not be necessary,” The mage sighed. “In that thing, I suspect that if you wished us further ill, we could have done nothing about it.” He sagged visibly.

“Further ill?” Bert asked.

“A long story,” The mage smiled. “Nothing to worry traders, I’m sure.” He waved a hand, and the guard relaxed. “I’ll ask the guard to arrange for wagons to collect the supplies.”

“That would be great,” Bert said. “I’ll get everything ready.”

The mage nodded and turned away, Bert turning back into the cab and seeing a frozen Bell.

“Bell Hudson?” She asked.

“It’s easier, and also, you never told me your last name.” Bert hesitated. “Do Pixies have a last name?”

“We have to be given one!” Bell said. “By a family member.” She flicked her eyes back and forth. “Gods! Above!”

“What?” Bert asked.

“The system thing seems to think it counts; I’ve been offered the last name Hudson!” Bell seemed excited before deflating, “Damn, my first ever offer of a name, and I can’t take it.”

“Why not?” Bert asked. “I think the name Hudson would suit you.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Bell asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“No, I love the idea!” Bert said, “I’d be honored if you took my name, seriously.”

Bell grinned, and her eyes flickered again. “Done!”

“Watch out, world; there are three Hudsons now!” Bert laughed.

“Three?” Bell asked.

“Yeah, Wendy, you, and me.” Bert clarified, and Bell beamed again.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Let’s get the stuff unloaded!” Bell said excitedly, “I want to start my first day as Bell Hudson, trader!”

Bert cheered and directed the Express to start preparing the goods to be offloaded. A voice called from the speakers a minute after Bell had gotten out of the cab.

“Did Mom really just take your name?” Wendy said, awed.

“Yup!” Bert said happily.

“By the way, I don’t have your name officially yet,” Wendy said.

“What? Why?” Bert asked.

“You have to offer it… and got it! Thanks, Dad.” Wendy called.

“Wendy?” Bert called.

“Yes, Dad?” Wendy said.

“Stop eavesdropping on me and your mother, okay?” Bert said. “It’s rude.”

“Dad, you’re kind of inside me right now,” Wendy laughed.

“Eww, rephrase that, please!” Bert said.

“I can’t not listen,” Wendy laughed.

“Okay,” Bert sighed. “I better go help Bell.”

“Okay, bye!” Wendy said, the speakers falling silent.

Bert made a mental note to remember that Wendy could hear everything in and around the Express in the future.

The mage, who introduced himself as Ian VanPeters, oversaw the unloading. Carts flowed into and out of the village while Bert and Bell kept the goods flowing.

Once they were done, they filled Bert’s bracer with meat and hides and prepared to head into the village. VanPeters had gone with the supplies earlier to start distributing the spoils.

“It’s kind of nice going in like this,” Bell said as they strolled towards the gates. “No big deal, no flash and show. Just us, walking in.”

“It is nice, isn’t it.” Bert agreed.

The village could have offered better views.

Muddy, rutted streets with simple wooden buildings. There was a definite smell in the air. The smell of no plumbing and too little washing.

Bell gagged a couple of times while Bert laughed. She grinned as they moved toward the village square. The market was almost always in the village square. Equal distance from everywhere, make sure everyone comes.

And there was a market, a few mud-encrusted stalls spattered with dirt from passing horses and carts. There was precious little enough for sale at any of them.

Everyone spoke in hushed tones, no one loudly shouting out for trade. The reason for this was apparent. A large, gnarled tree occupied the center of the square. There were no leaves on its dried branches.

Bodies swung from short ropes. And not just one or two. A dozen corpses decorated the tree. The smell of the city suddenly made much more sense.

“How can they have the market here with that fucking stench!” Bell cursed.

“Let’s try somewhere else,” Bert grimaced.

They turned away from the market, heading for the largest building. It was most likely the Town Hall and should be a good place to find pointers on who to trade with.

“What do you think happened?” Bert asked.

“What, the corpses?” Bell asked.

“Yeah,” Bert said, looking back one last time, “That is a lot of corpses for a small village.”

They were almost to the town hall when the bells sounded. People flowed out of the houses, cursing and swearing, others half-dressed, as they flooded toward the back of the village.

Bert and Bell followed along, more out of curiosity than anything else. The crowd stank almost as much as the corpses, a point Bell made loudly. She got a few angry looks but nothing more. Even in human form, the look in her eyes promised violent retribution to anyone who crossed her.

Following Bell as she pushed her way to the front, Bert noticed the tension in everybody’s shoulders.

Whatever was going on here, it was bad.

Bell pointed it out to him. A dead bird.

That seemed to be it.

“Another of us has fallen!” VanPeters came through the crowd, his voice grave. “We must keep the faith!”

“How?” A woman asked. “How are we to keep the faith even as more and more of our neighbors fall to this horror?”

Bell gave Bert a confused look.

Several of the gathered people were looking green, avoiding the sight of the dead bird.

The bird didn’t even seem like it had died of anything.

A wagon rolled up, carrying a large coffin. The Mage waved his hands, and the dead bird levitated into the coffin. Once the lid was safely on, people began to disperse.

Bert watched as two strong men struggled to lift the coffin containing a dead bird about the size of a sparrow.

Bell gave him another look of complete confusion, but he gestured to her to keep quiet.

“Meeting in the Town Hall at sundown!” VanPeters called to the rapidly dispersing crowd. He saw Bert and Bell and shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry you had to see this grisly sight,” He sighed. “What can you think of this town?”

“Why don’t you tell us what is going on?” Bert asked.

“Your wife may be a little delicate for such a grisly tale,” VanPeters warned.

Bell kicked Bert as he guffawed.

“She’ll be fine!” Bert yelped.

“Walk with me,” VanPeters offered, and they followed the man through the narrow, muddy streets.

“It all began a few weeks ago.” VanPeters grimaced, “We had been without supplies since the War broke out, but we had worked together and hung on. We even took in refugees from the surrounding farms.”

Bert nodded.

“The first body was one of the refugees, a woman that no one seemed to know. We thought it was a freak occurrence, a wild animal.” The mage led them back toward the town square. “By the time all but two of the refugees were dead, we knew we had a killer among us! The Refugees were obviously the targets, so we tried to protect them, only for others to start dying.”

Bert and Bell looked, seeing a wide circle of graves, with a new one being dug as they watched.

“Our guards did what they could, but there was never any real evidence to use!” VanPeters said defensively. “The refugees begged us to do something, and so we held a meeting. Things got heated, with insults thrown and accusations made. So we held a trial. A man was convicted, and we hung him in the town square.” The mage pointed to one of the bodies.

“And the rest?” Bell asked pointedly.

“There have been more trials and more hangings,” VanPeters said.

“And the thing today?” Bert asked carefully.

“That poor woman?” The mage blanched. “To have been torn apart that way….” He trailed off.

Bert and Bell exchanged a look.

“Can we attend the meeting tonight?” Bell asked. “Without being randomly hung, I mean?”

“We do not randomly hang people!” VanPeters hissed.

“Got twelve bodies that say differently there, buddy.” Bert pointed out.

“You are welcome to attend,” VanPeters said. “We all know you only arrived today.”

“So we won’t get hung then?” Bell checked.

“No!” The mage snarled and stomped away.

“Bert?” Bell asked.

“Yes, Bell?” He replied.

“They just buried a bird, right?” Bell checked.

“Yes, Bell,” Bert confirmed.

“What the fuck is going on?” Bell asked.

“No, idea,” Bert said. “Want to find out?”

“Bert and Bell Hudson, traders and investigators!” Bell cheered.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bert said.

=============

Back on the Waystation, Slothy opened her eyes and yawned. There were definitely fewer humans around today. She scratched her ear lazily as Way Way summoned some food for her.

Slothy wondered if the humans knew how much Way Way was different now than when she was a cub. She remembered trying to talk to it then and only seeing and feeling weird simple things.

Now she could ask it questions! And get answers she understood. Like now, when she asked where her people were… she saw them all and what they were doing. Some she saw now, and some she saw as they were before they left. It was amazing.

They were in the plains, and they were stopped for a while…

Slothy decided to go for a walk and see if she could find a nice place to have a nap.

She ambled towards the drawbridge, which lowered itself for her. She nuzzled the gatepost as she went out, just like she always did.

It had been a while since she got time to go for a nap outside.

==============

Bell kicked her legs up against the wall as she lay on the desk.

“Are you done yet?” She whined.

“We’ve literally been here for less than a minute,” Bert chuckled.

“When you said investigate, I thought you meant something fun, not looking at a bunch of shitty books with terrible handwriting.” She huffed.

“It’s one shitty book with terrible handwriting,” Bert corrected her.

“And you are looking at it; why?” She asked again.

“Because of the dead bird,” Bert said, running his finger down the page as he counted.

“And I am helping how?” Bell asked.

“You’re not,” Bert laughed. “Were you trying to?”

“No,” She admitted. “Just checking.”

“According to this, there are supposed to be fifty-seven people living in this town.” Bert double-checked his math and then nodded.

He got another book and started to go through it.

“Books,” Bell sighed, “Told you.”

Bert counted again, double-checking.

“According to this, there have been forty murders.” Bert grimaced. “And they have taken in a total of seven refugees.”

“That can’t be right!” Bell said. “That would only leave twenty-four people in this whole town; there were more of that in the crowd around the bird!”

“Yeah, I thought so, too,” Bert confirmed.

“A clue!” Bell giggled. “Either something weird is going on, or the hicks can’t count!”

“We’ll find out at the meeting, which should be soon!” Bert grinned.

“Yay!” Bell cheered sarcastically. “An enclosed space with the world's smelliest people!”

Bell wasn’t wrong about the pong of the people in the enclosed hall. It made his eyes water, although the locals didn’t seem to notice.

The mage, VanPeters, was on the raised stage at the far end of the hall. He was flanked by a severe-looking man wearing a gaudy chain of office and a jovial-looking woman who seemed to be the only person in the hall smiling.

“Hear ye! Hear ye!” The severe man called. “The meeting is in session!”

Bert and Bell lingered at the back of the hall, next to one of the few open windows. The meeting was a shitshow from the outset. The severe man, the Mayor, was an idiot, and the woman on the other side, apparently the town healer, was even worse. The crowd raged at the fact the murders continued with accusations flying to and fro.

Two voices stood out from the others. One was the Mayor’s new wife, a quiet woman with hooded eyes hidden behind auburn hair most of the time. She was apparently one of the two remaining refugees. She continually called for calm and was mostly ignored.

The other voice was a giant bald man with a large belly. He was the voice of the anger in the crowd. He wallowed in their anger, throwing suspicion on any who disagreed with him.

After an hour of baseless accusations flying back and forth, the tide of suspicion rebounded on him. He paled as everyone turned on him. He bawled and shouted, threatened and cajoled.

None of it helped.

Before a moment more had passed, the ‘trial’ was deemed unnecessary, and the rabid, baying crowd dragged the man out and hung him from the tree.

“Bert?” Bell called quietly.

“Yes, Bell.” He whispered.

“Let’s go; I think I know what’s going on,” Bell said.

They worked their way out of the village as a celebration rang out.