Night blossomed into darkness, sending silver moonlight down from a vast sky to cradle the chateau. A horse walked towards the gate, carrying a tall, blond Nelthrin man encased in polished steel armor. A torch in hand illuminated a crest depicting a wyvern on his carmine surcoat. His young squire accompanied him, a meek boy with slouched shoulders.

“Tell me, er… What was your name again?” the armored man asked as he turned to the squire, who sported a thick jerkin depicting the same wyvern on the left breast.

“Corbin, sir,” the young man answered him as he ran a hand through his raven black hair.

“Corbin, yes. Tell me, Corbin,” he said, his voice harsh and nasally, “is it true that there are rumors of necromancy being practiced around here?” Eyes squinted, he continued to stare at him.

“I’m not quite sure, sir. There were many reports of missing persons many years ago, but none of them were attributed to necromancy. The reports even stopped once an official investigation started, according to the records, and nothing ever came of it. Perhaps this is related to that?” The knight paused to straighten his posture and contemplated the words the boy had spoken.

“For a squire you are quite knowledgeable,” he said. Corbin jumped, surprised by his double statement.

“My apologies, Sir Laurent! I grew up in these parts and heard lots of stories, and I like to read records in my free time whenever the scribes aren’t busy with them—”

“Now, Corbin, I wasn’t chiding you,” Laurent said with a wave of his hand. A lively guffaw rumbled up from his stomach. “In fact, I applaud your eagerness to learn. There should be more young men like you, as eager to learn as they are to serve. Strategy wins battles, as is well known.”

“Y-yes, sir!” Corbin said with eager nods, again surprised by the knight in his shining armor. The horse snorted and stopped its walk, biting at its bit impatiently. They had reached the gate, whose wrought iron bars reflected in the torchlight. Without being asked, Corbin walked forward, dry leaves crunching underfoot, and checked that the gate was open.

Upon hearing the squeak of rusted hinges, he swung the gate open far enough for the knight and his horse to make it through, and shut it behind them before following along the path to a chateau.

“Now listen, squire. While we are here, I will be the one who speaks. You are to hand me the reports when asked, and nothing more. The job may end up demanding otherwise, but I do not wish to be here any longer than needed.”

“A wise decision, sir. My ma would tell me stories about huldra that live in these parts. They’re women, made of bark with a cow’s tail, and can take on the appearance of a lady with heavenly beauty. When looking as such, they—”

“I know the stories, Corbin. While I’ve never seen one myself, I’ve seen what they can do to a man who finds himself enthralled by their ethereal beauty. Better to die by your own dagger than to watch as your heart is removed from your body, still beating, to be used as a cool refreshment.”

Corbin winced at Laurent’s description of the huldra’s preferred method of hunting. While he had heard the stories many times, something about the way the he spoke caused his spine to shiver. Soon they had approached the steps leading to the entrance of the chateau, and the squire helped the knight off his horse.

“Now, enough talk about monsters, Corbin. We don’t want to frighten the good people here,” the knight said as he approached the door. The place already appeared impressive from afar, but as he looked up now, it left him feeling infinitesimal. The gargoyles lining the manor’s stone eaves seemed to stare down in disdain as Sir Laurent lifted the bronze knocker. He let it clang twice before taking a step back.

The ensuing silence was deafening. Corbin shifted his weight between feet as they waited, remembering the drawings of huldra he had seen in his books. A sudden movement in the reflection on the back of Sir Laurent’s cuirass caused him to whirl about quickly in a panic.

“S-sir, I th-think there’s something there!” Corbin said as he tapped him on the shoulder. Sir Laurent turned around and stared into the darkness, but he did not see anything.

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“Calm down, Corbin, your nerves are on edge. No huldra will be visiting us tonight.”

A sudden creak caused the two men to jump and stare as a woman stepped into the doorway dressed in a loose, flowing gown. On top of her head, branches and vines twisted and curled. The light behind her cast a shadow which obscured her features, within the manor, but as it flickered one could catch a glimpse of her natural beauty.

“H-H-HULDRA!!!” Corbin shouted, but before he could flee, Laurent seized the young man by the collar.

“I said calm down, you learned buffoon! By all the gods in heaven... Terribly sorry, my lady, the lad is much smarter than he leads one to believe,” he said to the woman with the flowing dress. She seemed amused by the display, but she said nothing, thus Laurent continued.

“I am Sir Laurent Futé of the Wyvern’s Rest Guard, and this is my assigned squire, Corbin.” Corbin nodded, overcome with shakes, from behind the knight. The woman stepped forward. The light cast from Corbin’s torch reached her face and revealed a Fenvar rather than the creature he so dreaded, and the branches and vines on her head were bow braids playing tricks with shadows.

“You are well met, sir knight. I am Aveline, a servant of the estate.” She curtsied and bowed her head low, and her dress billowed as she lifted the sides between pinched fingers. “How may I be of service?” Sir Laurent bowed in kind, with his arm across his waist in formal fashion.

“I should begin by apologizing for troubling you at this late hour, but is the owner of the estate home?” he asked.

“No, I am afraid Lord Pierron Bisset is already in Wyvern’s Rest on official business. If you are here for him, I am sorry to say you’ve been sent the wrong way.”

“You said Lord Bisset, ma’am?” Sir Laurent said with a gasp. “I was unaware your master was of such renown and wealth. If he is not here, then who might be?”

“Only his staff, sir knight, of whom I am currently in charge,” said Aveline.

“Well, I suppose you will do just as well,” Laurent muttered to himself. “If that is the case, then I have a few questions, should it be of no inconvenience for you.”

“It is of no inconvenience.”

“Very well,” Sir Laurent declared, and reached his hand out toward Corbin. The boy, who continued to hear and see nonexistent movement just outside the circle of light cast by the torch, turned around as the knight coughed for his attention. As he was handed the necessary documents, he took them and unfurled one, taking a moment to read it once more before continuing.

“We have recently received reports that the area surrounding and including this villa have experienced murders and…” the noise of parchment unfurling interrupted him as he took note of the other report’s findings. “Has been subject to necromantic practices. Do you know or have you heard of any such goings on, my lady?” Aveline shook her head gracefully.

“I am happy to say no, sir knight. The country out here is quite peaceful, unlike the forests of Fenglade.”

“I thought I detected a hint of an accent,” Laurent stated. “You are from Fenglade, then?”

“Yes, my sister and I. We were hired by Lord Bisset when he visited our homeland.”

“I see. Is there anyone else I may speak to? Perhaps they may have heard something about these reports.” Sir Laurent asked.

“No, Sir.” Aveline shook her head. “Lord Bisset returns soon, and we must spend tomorrow preparing for his arrival. As such, the rest of the staff is asleep.”

“I see,” Laurent mused again. He stared into the eyes of the Fenvar woman, each a shimmering pearl sunken into the sockets of her face. In her amber irises, which pulled him in as he stared, he sensed something which tugged at the back of his mind. Something sinister, cunning. He couldn’t understand why the young wood elf was instilling such a feeling within him, but it left him dubious.

“We’d like to look around the property, in any case, and search for any signs. It is doubtful we’ll find anything, but it always pays to be thor–”

His words were cut short by the sudden and loud clanging of metal coins. Somehow, without either Laurent or his squire noticing, Aveline had procured a large pouch of golden coins, and was handing it over to Sir Laurent.

“M-ma’am?”

“For your journey home, sir knight. If you follow the road south for another quarter mile, there will be an inn where you may rest. Traveling at night is very, very dangerous, after all.”

Something about the way the wood elf spoke about danger further stirred the sinister atmosphere. Now, however, he felt pure dread beckoning to him, pulling him toward the sack of coins. Something told him that if he didn’t take the gold and be on his way, then whatever Corbin swore was stalking them from within the nearby bushes would become a terrifying reality, and not a made-up fantasy.

“Of course.” Laurent took the sack from the hands of the Fenvar and handed it to Corbin, who placed it in his saddlebags with haste.

“Take care, sir knight,” Aveline said with one last drawn-out curtsy. She stepped back inside and closed the door behind her, and the two men were once again alone. Sir Laurent pulled on the reins of his horse and turned it around.

“We are heading out, Corbin.”

“Sir? Are we not searching the grounds? What about the necromancy and murders?” Corbin asked, although he was secretly relieved to be leaving.

“We will look elsewhere.”

“Well, why? Was that a bribe?”

“No, my young Corbin, that was no bribe. It was a warning. Oftentimes, there are questions that should be left unanswered by the likes of you and me. Now, let’s get moving. I know the inn that the wood elf mentioned, and they should have a spare bed or two for us.”

Sir Laurent Futé then proceeded back to the gate, with his squire in tow, and they left the villa in the silver moonlight.