A forest of pointed leaves and darkish evergreen, small though dense. Yet a single plowed route laid ahead, by whom none knew; once again, always having been there. Branchy and twigged, rough and uphill; though sufficient for wheels. Fog engulfed much, creating an eerie feel. Crows cawed, stranger birds with claws and teeth hissed. Worse yet were those howls.

  “Easy men,” cautioned the lead pistoleer mounted atop his horse, “we haven’t reached the cave yet. Do not lose morale.”

  Red was dismounted, walking ahead whilst holding the unicorn’s harness; silent and attentive, his polearm in hand. Blue, silent and staff held firm, accompanied him, staying close though not enough to impede his reactions. Both were geared and had their backpacks donned. Maroon, naturally, remained seated in the wagon’s back, as if a shadow as obscured as could be.

  All fifteen pistoleers, also mounted, were accompany them—joined by some thirty-five infantrymen marching behind in an uneven two-rowed column. The remainder of their battalion remained in Littlest Blueberry. The infantrymen were armed with thrust-swords, heavy axes, and crystal-lock firearms—rifled but primarily muzzle-loaders. Crystal-locks were renowned for their ability to spark in spite of precipitation, provided that the powder was dry.

  Polearms could potentially be cumbersome in a cavern, although such did not stop Red from bringing his iconic and exotic Far Eastern weapon—not that…he even had any…alternatives.

  The night before had been defined by talks and then grim silence. The Megaberriens had slept in their respective encampments; the adventurers, in and around their wagon. Maroon, of course, had not been included in any such talks; she knew not the plan or what role she was even supposed to play.

  Frankly, she did not even know why she was present; this was stupid—pointless… She did not want to be here anymore. But, alas, yet again—the choice was never truly hers.

  “More howlyngs…” An infantryman watched the foggy forest around, unable to see the depths beyond. “Wolvens… I’m tellyn’ thee!”

  “There aren’t any here anymore.” Red was quick to look that man’s way. “All gone.”

  “Ande how mayst thou be for-sure?” the spooked infantryman asked. He was not the only one intimidated—others simply masked.

  Red simply returned his yellow-amber eyes to the way forward. “The trees ahead,” he said, “they’re burnt.”

  Indeed, as this joint group ventured onwards, the forest scenery shifted—foreshadowed already by the increased mixing of soot and ash with the soil… Still present, despite all these years. No longer evergreen but dead—burnt and charred. Such was large swathes—pockets—of this forest’s interior.

  This told him everything.

  “The Clearances.” Such was all the adventurer needed to state; they all immediately understood.

  This forest had been pacified. No more indigenous fiends, beyond echoes and ghosts.

  Red checked his map again, although it was utterly worthless for gauging where within this shaded blob they were—how close to their objective. However, what he did know was that, if they continued following this route, they would inevitably arrive at their destination.

  Such was how it always tended to work, after all. For every forest with a central cavern as its heart within which monstrosities hid, there was always—usually—a convenient path leading thither, sometimes subtle though still present.

  “Nugh…” Blue clutched herself, shivering slight. “It’s damp and cold… Are we walking higher?”

  “You’ll get used to it.” Red patted her shoulder to her initial warming surprise, although… “You’re an ice mage! I thought you liked the cold.” Indeed, not done with warmth in heart.

  Blue’s face was bland. “Ha. Ha. Ha…” she flatly ‘laughed’.

  Red could only smirk, the teaser having become the teased; though, he knew that Blue would someday retaliate with an equal tease. He then glanced behind, the unicorn utterly unreadable. Though, his attention was hardly towards that…thing, as much as the passenger situated on the wagon proper.

  Indeed, he had not forgotten about her despite her attempts to facilitate such. He was still…uncertain about her presence. Bumping into a regiment of Megaberriens had not been part of his plan.

  Speaking of which, they had developed a plan for this clearance mission, which was to say: there was no fixed ‘plan’ beyond adhering to the principles.

  Red had tried to make this point rather clear during his discussion with the pistoleers. Goblins, especially the various greyish kinds of cavern dwellers, did not simply reside within caves—they engineered them.

  Common conception painted goblins as savages, however even savages could be miners, diggers, and sculptors. Indeed, what could have once been a standard linear monster cave, in which there were at most three convenient routes leading to a central core, could have since been remade—dead ends, ambush zones, false turns, and most especially: traps.

  Although there were patterns, which he had explained, each cavern nevertheless could be different; goblins, like mans, were diverse. Some were dumber; others, cleverer. Some dens were poorly made; others, elaborate meat-grinders.

  The best practice was to remain together always, operate as each other’s eyes, and move slowly—zone by zone, until the heart was reached. Never rush, never charge; always be watchful, mindful, and always assume—even if untrue—that the goblin was several steps ahead.

  There could not be much more of a plan beyond that, not especially for a cavern unknown.

  Yet Red also kept his eyes sharply around—the ground, the trees (burnt or not). For these were not merely any band of ‘greenies’; this was the Fallen. And considering both alleged importance and the Company’s campaign, surely this whole forest would be their domain?

  Watchmen, treetop towers, all on alert for intruders; one could reasonably expect. Yet it was suspiciously clear…

  Red cleared his head with a gentle shake—there were thirty-five other men more paranoid than he. He did not need to be the only fixated eyes.

  Their pacing slowed as elevation increased, their walk now increasingly uphill. The pistoleers’ mounted leader, at some point, had moved further up ahead as if having taken the charge. Red just looked at him… Hm.

  He handed Blue the unicorn’s leash. “Hold onto this.”

  “Mhm.” Blue simply mumbled, taking it into hand.

  Red proceeded to walk his way to the forementioned lead pistoleer, strolling along next to him. “Mind if we chat while we still got time?”

  “No minds to be minded.” the leader so replied, eyeing him down.

  “So…” Indeed, Red kept his voice casual though clearly purposeful. “Megaberry, I haven’t been there since… Uh, you know…” He was not going to talk about that. “But,” he ahemed, “how are matters over there? With the war and all…”

  “Hm…” The lead pistoleer mused behind that grumpy-faced moustache-mask of his. “My expedition has been out-of-city since the war’s beginning essentially. I haven’t been there since, though…” There was a pause, as if deciding. “From what I’ve heard, matters are…essentially as expected they would become.”

  “Uh, which’s to say…good, bad?”

  “Neither.”

  “Ah…” Red’s eyes looked ahead, cogitating, before returning back up to the mounted pistoleer. “I’m sure even your detached band’s aware shit’s been escalating. Know anything about Megaberry’s standing now?” He decided to cut right through it. “I shared with you, didn’t I? Share with me. Your own thoughts—nothing more.”

  The lead pistoleer merely stared, expression masked. “Hm.” He made an unreadable sound. “Alrightly, fine. My ‘thoughts’.” He returned his head to the way ahead, his voice casual. “Neutrality is becoming increasingly complex. Our city and county has been able to enforce it, owing to what we are, however… Well, as you said: escalation.”

  “The Company’s taken over the Divide and is doing something with the Bulge, from what I’ve heard.” Red commented, keeping it going.

  “Well, there is that distant crisis, though I don’t think it is even that.” the lead pistoleer so said. “Even my detached expedition has heard what befell Humbleberry. I am certain you have as well.”

  “Heard?” Red just replied; “I didn’t just hear it—I was fucking there… I saw the burning mess.”

  “Ah…” The lead pistoleer did not seem surprised. “Fortune has a propensity for placing the renowned in the most historical of moments. You find yourself always where a hero is needed, aye?”

  “Hero…” Red did not like that word. “Don’t call me that—I’m incomparable to the Hero. Shit just happens to me.”

  “For reason. Sometimes by Fortune’s chance; sometimes stitched by Fate’s weaves.” His words were esoteric. “Well, regardless,” he returned to topic, “Grandberry has demonstrated what the duke’s willing to inflict upon Loyalist realms for falling astray; there are some I know who are concerned of what he might do to the rebels—or would-be neutrals. Fear is a blight, as they say.”

  “Ain’t that the truth…” Red simply replied. A momentary silence ensued, as he attempted to think of how to continue.

  “Say, adventurer, how long have you been adventuring?” yet, abruptly, the lead pistoleer so inquired.

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  “Huh?” Red was caught confused, not anticipating such a question. “Uh… Why, why are you asking?”

  “You share; I share.” yet the lead pistoleer simply echoed his own words back at him. “I have shared, now thus you.”

  Red’s eyes again drifted somewhat, before returning. “Sixteen, seventeen years now maybe?” he ultimately answered. “I haven’t been tracking.”

  “Hm.” the lead pistoleer so mumbled… “How many years did you have on you when you began? Sixteen?”

  Red’s breaths became heavier for a moment, an ever-slight tremor to his jaws. “I… Aha, kinda don’t know…” He knew it; it was simply difficult to access. “Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen years… In that range. I wasn’t of age.”

  “Hm. You started young either way.” the lead pistoleer so replied; “I started younger… From the day of birth, I was groomed to become a knight. I aspired to be a griffon knight—I failed, obviously… I trained with swords and spears; I danced with the finest girls and learned to be the greatest of men. Honor. Valor. The old ways.” He was not boasting. “I didn’t learn pistols until well later.”

  “And even that’s dated now…” Red thus remarked; “I’ve spent enough time at the Company’s over-cramped camp to have seen their drilling—the shit they’re using now.” He had awareness beforehand, of course; however, awareness was different from witnessing firsthand.

  “Indeed.” There was another momentary silence. “Do you have a wife?” Well, that was a sudden question.

  “Duh…” Red was taken by total surprise. “Well, I mean… I…” His eyes glanced behind at Blue, who noticed and acknowledged with a gentle wave and warm smile. “I…” He…had…a that—whatever that even was. But that was not… “No. I, I don’t.” He ahemed, glaring at the pistoleer. “Why did you ask that?”

  “Oh, well, you’re nearing, if not already at, your middling years, no?” the lead pistoleer went on to say; “Most would have settled by now, with several children.”

  “Yeah, well, shit’s different for adventurers.”

  Indeed, adventurers—alongside mercenaries, career warriors, and other related sorts—tended to have divergent social expectations and cultural judgements. It was more acceptable for them to not have ‘settled down’ until later in adulthood, although by their forties…that was certainly pushing it. Likewise, female adventurers had a stricter window, considering there was a…natural expiration date—unless they were an elf or another race who did not experience the so-called ‘great last bleed’.

  “We fuck around a lot,” Red certainly had, “then maybe settle down later.”

  “So it seems…” The same could not be said for knights and high-bloods. “I have forty years on me now.” he abruptly revealed. “Wifeless. Loveless. Childless. Unfavored to the younger inheritors.” He looked to his fellow pistoleers. “Same for them too.”

  “…you’re telling me you haven’t been betrothed to a higher-than-my-own-ass literal child yet?” Red so blandly asked, unsympathetic.

  “The moment we were deemed ‘tainted’, failures, in the eyes of our houses, we weren’t considered for anything more than furthering glory and renown ‘til honorable death.” the lead pistoleer so replied. “Such be Fate’s weaves; her threads favor some at others’ expense. Though, really, it was simply hard to be knights awaiting a princess of rescue, with all that was done… Fortune favors the common good; Fate had us condemned from the start.”

  Deviating from the majority of the continent, Megaberry’s cult viewed Fortune not as a conditional giver to whom one would become indebted (debts collected through misfortune); rather, she was an arbiter of luck and, uniquely enough, a rewarder of compassionate generosity whose chanceful outcomes stood imposed against Fate’s predeterminations. In conventional view, the two goddesses typically worked in tandem.

  Regardless, this conversation was starting to lose itself, Red felt; he had initiated this in order to…learn more regarding Megaberry’s situation and current standing in the war, considering its influence.

  “Yeah, yeah… Ain’t that something. Anyway—” he was about to redirect, however…

  “Has there been a certain moment, Dragon Slayer,” the lead pistoleer so spoke, “when you realized everything you thought true…was a lie?” What a question… “If so, what was it?”

  “Uh…” Red realized he had lost control over the talking.

  Yet instead of withdrawing, his mind could not help but sink into this inquiry… Since, indeed, he struggled to answer. His breaths heavied from the thinking, in fact; a strange affect emerged within… A sizzling angst; a burn.

  Indeed, it was all…coming back to him.

  “Heh.” He so shook his head. “I was supposed to be something, once—that got burned away, alongside everything I knew. Maybe that was it? Or maybe it was when I’d thought I found something else to be, an adventurer… Only to have that strangled out of me too. Every passion. Every want. Everything I loved or cared about…” Tension. “I don’t even know anymore.”

  Words had left his mouth as if a stream… He felt weird speaking them—too weird.

  Yet the lead pistoleer calmly nodded, facing the way ahead—yet his ears remained attentive. “The dragons…” he so mentioned; “That which precedes your reputation.”

  “Wasn’t my fault.” Dragon Slayer was quick to glare. “They blame me for the extinction because… Ugh—I didn’t call myself by that name! They called me that!” he complained; “Everyone did… I was just accepting the Guild’s quests, and I didn’t even slay that many, even though…” His eyes drifted… “Alright, yeah… I was an idiot—I still am… I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

  “The Far East…” the lead’s mellow voice so nudged on. “Adventurers aren’t the only ones who know about that.”

  “That…” Indeed, that. “I should’ve known better… But the Guild’s the one who failed their job. They listed the quest; I accepted it… But I was the one who…spent more than a whole Gods’ sacred year or two…fucking around in the Far East; I was the one who slayed their holy dragon… I didn’t know—I’d spent all that time there, and I still didn’t know.” He sighed… “Fuckers chased me across the Great Ocean with their cannon-boats… The whole way back, all for me.”

  “It was an Imperial fleet which intercepted them, I believe.” The lead pistoleer knew his stuff, it seemed. “Which only added to the embarrassment: to be saved by the Guild’s arch foe…” Oh, it certainly had. “The Adventurers’ Guild was trying to expand overseas, wasn’t it? That stunt of yours extinguished that flame.”

  “The Guild hates me.” Red frankly said. “Permanently demoted, no prospect of advancement… They couldn’t just expel me, but they bent all their policies to keep me down… But I still keep coming back. I’m an adventurer—a Diamond… And I always will be, until the end. I’ve got nothing else.” Thus, so spoke he…yet there was something else, following behind him—still refusing to leave.

  “And I shall always be a knight-at-arms,” so remarked the lead pistoleer, “once taught that his role was to bring about a better world of peace and smiles. In a way, we still are that. Yearning for a world…different.”

  Red was…starting to get a strange feeling from this one, suddenly. Yet unlike a certain Violet-Coat, he had not originated from an existence of masks in which his brain had to specialize in becoming especially sensitive to voice, tone, behavior, and other hidden nuances to compensate.

  “Well, that was yours.” so went on the lead pistoleer; “Do you want to know what mine, what ours, was?” His masked face eyed down at him. “…the Empire’s War.”

  And Red’s pacing nearly slowed, as if a burning freeze. “…that one, huh?” All things truly kept…leading back to that same accursed war.

  “Megaberry always shielded itself behind our cult of generosity.” The lead pistoleer’s attention again returned ahead. “War ended fifteen, now almost sixteen years ago… Which is within the same span you said you began adventuring, no?”

  “Yeah…” Red merely mumbled his reply.

  “Hm.” the lead pistoleer mumbled in kind. “I saw, we saw, firsthand…the lie. Knights, I was always told, were to shield the meagre commoner… Naive, you must judge me.”

  Oh, Red had long already judged him.

  “I judge me. I always have… You cannot reconcile the contradictions.” His voice only became more estranged. “It was shortly after the Fall of Graillight.”

  And from that single reference alone, Red’s breaths sank, as if the world had become muted. He nearly froze.

  “The word of what happened hadn’t reached our ears,” the pistoleer went on, “I wasn’t there, but hearing it alone…” There was a tension. “Well, regardless. The Empire struck back, hard.”

  “Pegasus griffons Demon-fucked the shit out of Rainbow’s ass—practically killed half the rural lands.” Hyperbole, but nevertheless Red knew that fact well, though not through his own initiative. His companion.

  “It wasn’t just Rainbow.” the lead pistoleer thus said; “It was everywhere. Huckleberry had largely been unscathed, but an Imperial army was on its way to make an attempt. I was, we were, part of the interception. We won. Through the combined might of countless armies from a dozen realms, we chased them across the mountains back into their seized lands. We lost. It was…a slaughter.”

  “You’re still here, though.” Red so astutely observed.

  “Indeed.” He did not seem too pleased. “Trapped in the Empire’s stomach, we did what…we had to do—so I told myself. We survived.”

  “What happened?” Red knew already…something had affected this ‘noble’ pistoleer so.

  “It was just pitched battles for me until that point. Warriors against warriors; knights against knights. They could fight you; they could kill you.”

  “Unless they’re running away, but you still run them down.” Red was plain.

  “That was the first hypocrisy, wasn’t it?” the lead pistoleer sighed. “Slaughters, you see, are a wave without thoughts; you are caught in a tide that moves with or without you. Everyone is acting; that pushes you. I couldn’t conscious it. I couldn’t have fathomed it; my own potential… I was born and raised…to be a knight—to be honorable; to defend the weak and innocent; to defend the realm from evil.”

  “That was always a lie, and you know it.” Red could not help himself. “All you did until recent history was rape each other’s daughters and stroke each other’s tails while adventurers did the actual ‘defending against evil’…” And doing their own. “Villagers welcomed us, they feared you.”

  “Merciless words.” the lead pistoleer so replied. “Again: shielded. The last war Megaberry was involved in before this one, before the Empire’s invasions, was the Last Demon War. I thought man to be better.” He paused… “But who, without thought until after, murders a screaming girl clinging to her mother’s slit corpse if not a demon?”

  Ah. There it was.

  The sin.

  “She was young,” his voice shook though hidden, “no younger than my own sister was at the time. Her crime? Being too loud…or something—I don’t even know. I shot her, in her head; her eyes trapped in a pose embedded in my own.” His voice then flattened. “Then the next village—the next town. Our desperation became strategy: leave the Empire crumbling; to make their inevitable victory cost a crippling price; to make the damage echo…into the next war.”

  “Which makes it worse, doesn’t it?” Red was not sympathetic, though he could still understand. “When I cleared dens of greenies, it was never personal—just doing a job. And, not sure if you know this or not, but goblins aren’t just rapey freaks. They got their own families, their own ladies.” All marked for extermination. “Difference is, I know what I am.”

  “No excuses.” yet the pistoleer so declared; “No justifications, no vindications, could redeem me—us. Arguably this whole world. There is no reconciliation for the contradiction. We murdered, despite our oath to Fortune’s—a Goddess’s—compassion, not mortal strategy.” Woah, he was…going off now. “For some reason, so many can sleep with ease. But not we—not me.”

  “Don’t tell me you feel guilty and shit, now?” Red still offered little sympathy. “Boohoo, you’re a murderer—yeah, what did you think you were gonna do? Not murder random villagers during wartime? That’s…literally what your Gods’ condemned kind have always done.”

  There was a twitch unseen. “I don’t merely feel guilt, adventurer.” Indeed, he looked into Red’s eyes. “Hatred.” One word. “Hatred…for the weaves threaded by Fortune’s wicked sister, Fate; that her threads stitch in ways that always make doing good…so impossible. Why is it so hard…to do…the right thing?”

  Red could hear the trembling jaws in his voice. Somehow someway, it was beginning to feel as though he were listening to an elegant distortion…of his own reflection.

  “Man,” he thus spoke, “is no different from goblins and orcs. I saw it myself. The same evil; the same crimes.”

  “Yeah.” Red merely replied, now…perhaps…starting to feel…something.

  Maybe this knight did understand.

  “Desertion, dishonorable and treacherous…” so quietly raged on; “But is it truly so wrong, if it means holding true to what you swore? That is what I should have understood then. Desertion is not wrong…if the cause is righteous.” Was he implying something, now? “That is what we should have done… The moment of the first massacre, we should have fled—back to Megaberry.”

  “No.” Red, however, rejected that conclusion. “You should have stayed; you should have tried to save the village.” He blandly eyed up, staring dead on. “You should have died with them. If you truly believe what you swear to.”

  And the pistoleer knight simply eyed in turn, his expression unseen. “Indeed.” He looked ahead again. “Fate, unfortunately, had other plans for us; and now…here we are.” Certainly, he saw emerging in the fog… “I am pleased to have had this conversation, Dragon Slayer. But now I’m afraid we must…spring their trap.”

  Indeed. A rocky hill with an open mouth near which was an archaic sign, simply inscribed…

  Mokleuf nydh mouh, rofkasyn nym louh.

  Welcome thine home, mine forsaken soul.