A ledge, down from which was a short, although ungentle, drop. Red remained perched, crouching with his exotic polearm situated aside. Truly, the darkened abyss of a tunnelway now behind had led to the most perfectly sized entry holes for a party. Such, of course, was a feature of many caverns in the Central Continent, never mind Huckleberry; always rather predictable in having a large central chamber into which the tunnels would converge.

  Though, some caverns had ancillary chambers or pocket spaces—trap zones and wrong turns.

  Whether this chamber was one such wrong entrapping turns or not was…well…a mystery; for, indeed, he could not see. It was a darkened pit without any source of light. However, such was perhaps a good indication; for it suggested it was unlikely to be occupied… Unless, of course, this was some trap and there were goblins, orcs, or even worse monstrosities hiding amongst the many hidden corners…

  Truly… Conjure a scenario, this man had probably experienced it in his tenure.

  Regardless, considering he had crouched atop the ends of a drop and not a ramp, this was obviously not the means by which that supposed wagon and alleged cloaked whoevers had arrived—Red had…actively avoided going down that way. He preferred to eye from these higher elevated holes before jumping into the unknown.

  “Hm…” Making his conclusions, he stood up, picked up his polearm, and began to make the way back through the tunnel… His…gear perhaps made more noise with his movements than he would have preferred…

  Ugh, if only he had that Raven—her shadow magic would have been…better for scouting.

  He kept walking until he spotted light emanating up ahead—Blue’s holding position. Upon spotting her, he knew…she had become bored out of her mind… She was scribbling on the ground with the dagger-head tip of her staff.

  “Red!” And the joy that glistened her ignited eyes the moment she spotted his silhouette.

  “Keep your voice down.” Red merely stated, arriving before her.

  “If there was anything here,” yet so retorted Blue, “they would have heard your…walking—I certainly did.”

  “Yeah, yeah…” Red dismissively waved. “Anyway, come on. I didn’t see anything.” He once again turned the other way and began to walk.

  “Quite literally, I’m willing to wager.” Blue so replied, following close behind. “If only you had brought a ball of light.”

  “Yeah, to give away my spot.”

  “I’ve been telling you that we ought to expand our party—permanently.” Blue so remarked; “We have too many close…incidents.”

  “I’m a Diamond,” Red only barely glared behind, “I’m like three at once.”

  “Hmm…?” Blue mumbled with certain eyes. “How many close deaths did you have before meeting me, and how many did you have after meeting me?”

  Red remained silent.

  The two made their way back to that ledge; Red crouched down once again whilst Blue remained standing. Even without command, the ice mage knew what to do. She inhaled a focusing breath, concentrating; she waved her staff in a specific sequence of precise short motions, before pointing its glittery tip towards the dark chamber. Her puffball of radiant-dusty light then ventured forth, remaining tethered to her aura by an invisible thread.

  “Light Maker, Day Father, brighten the sun ever towards dusk.” A simple condensed whisper, and her ignited eyes brightened slightly more; the puffball brightened in kind—a modular spell, this one was… It could increase or decrease light radiation—illumination—dependent on key phrases and movement sequences paired with the active spell.

  Such precision in so-called ‘magecraft’ was usually indicative of a spellcard-based spell with clearly encoded sequences and prespecified procedures. However, the ice mage no longer relied on such a spellcard; for so frequent had she cast this specific light spell, it had become practically engraved into that which was imbued deep within her—the very source of all her arcane arts.

  Indeed, simple utterance of the paired initializer incantation or even sufficient cogitation thereof was enough to trigger spell activation, albeit with a higher chance of miscasting or ‘fizzling’ due to primarily relying on…‘stored memory’, so to speak.

  It was all so very…terribly complicated.

  Regardless, much of the chamber ahead and below had now become revealed, even if the brightened light was incomparable to that of true day—brightness strongest at the immediate center of the hovering radiant puffball than the outstretched periphery. The chamber’s edges remained shadowy, thus.

  Yet such was more than sufficient to allow Red to see…

  And, indeed, he saw…

  A wagon. An empty wagon—uncovered, the black tarp once used for obfuscation having been left derelict on the rocky ground. No horse or equine or equivalent beast, however. He quickly spotted from his leftward gaze, wooden crates and wooden boxes—neither too thin nor wide; a particular sort of size—distributed about as if left behind.

  Hm. There was nothing alive down there, at least…

  But Blue’s breaths could be felt and heard from behind as she too peered closer. “Bodies…”

  Indeed, nothing alive was not to say there was nothing at all.

  Bodies. Black-cloaked bodies; he counted five initially scattered near the abandoned wagon although not precisely next to it; he then spotted two more…further about, off to the side from his rightward gaze. Thus, seven total.

  Theirs were the only bodies around, likewise; thus, whatever had befallen here had to have been…a one-sided affair.

  “What happened here?” Blue quietly pondered, uneased.

  Good question, Red himself mused within. A surprise attack or ambush or…sudden treachery? He had his pickings although he could not make the pick.

  Hm… Two routes or tunnelways, he identified, connecting to the chamber’s floor. The one directly ahead of his current facing was wide—likely the route leading to a greater under-network. The one more off and to the side, lesser in its scale, and being in the opposing direction of the wagon with somewhat clear…wheel tracks leading thence thither. That had to be the tunnel these…whoevers and their wagon had entered from.

  In other words, their own way back up and out…besides climbing.

  “Alright, you stay here. I’ll check.” Red, before Blue could respond, promptly jumped down into the chamber. He landed rather finely enough despite the plonk. His polearm held firmly in hand, he began to cautiously motion towards the wagon…

  Yet only to then so immediately hear…

  “WAAH!” The sounds of a certain someone not listening…

  He turned around with rather the bland glare and stared, seeing that Blue had slid herself down from that ledge, landing not so finely.

  “Ouchy… Nugh…” She patted herself with soft sniffles, her legs and buttocks no doubt scraped and swore. The ignited puffball, however, did not require active or persistent concentration to maintain—being such an automated endeavor by now… It remained glistening as if with indifference to her pain.

  Red’s face too did not seem to care. “I told you stay up there.”

  “Yes, you did.” Blue looked his way, brushing her dust-dirtied attire as she stood herself up with a slight wobble. “But that was a terrible idea.”

  Red simply sighed…

  “Besides,” Blue smiled in spite of the…persistent stings, “you don’t want me becoming bored—I might start playing with spells.”

  “Yeah.” Red just replied, before turning himself and moving on. “Anyway, let’s look around, then… Before whoever did this decides to come back.” He aimed his sight at the wagon first, being practically at the center of Blue’s spotlight.

  The adventurer thus ventured towards that derelict wagon; his mage companion, naturally, remained glued to him behind. She clenched her staff as her sight peeked about… He could feel her apprehension, even though she tried to hide it.

  Yet he remained focused, stepping over a body as he evaluated this…simple and unexceptional wagon. Hmm… Wooden, unpainted nor decorated; nothing elaborate—almost like his own, except not…scarred by a unicorn’s obsessive chewing.

  He then flipped his sight to the poorly organized and left about crates and wooden boxes that were off to the side of their position, not exactly at but near the chamber’s walls—just at the edges of the hovering light-ball’s touch… Almost too perfectly positioned, frankly; as if something had so predicted the anticipated luminosity of their lightball such that all key things would be placed within its view.

  However, Red was hardly one to always linger on such…overly deterministic thinking. He did not think too strongly about it, even though he was thinking.

  He simply flagged the crates in his head—something to inspect shortly. His attention then swapped to the cloaked and hooded bodies… Hm. They all seemed too similarly posed; hooded, laying dead on their stomach side, thus only backs visible with no immediately exposed skin—gloved hands and long sleeves.

  Even with five…seven bodies, there was usually diversity in death positions.

  “Hmm… This feels…fresh—too fresh.” Red began to remark.

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

  “What do you mean?” Blue naturally inquired, looking at him.

  “Just from what those hunters told us, I was assuming their spotting had been some few days ago… But this feels like a couple days at most…”

  “Ah, thus ‘some few’ versus ‘a couple’…” Blue so commented, finding his words perhaps a bit…too unspecific.

  “Maybe a day old… Point is, happened recently.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “I just can.” Well, that was hardly helpful… “It’s a hunch.”

  “Rightly…” Blue’s sight proceeded to drift towards the nearest body, which she began to eye at with…interest. “Hm. These cloaks…” Indeed, she noticed something… “They seem…kind of familiar.” She hunched down, inspecting the corpse that had piqued her so. She began to carefully prod it, specifically the cloak itself—stroking, feeling, getting a sense of it. “Interesting fabric… Not conventional textiles, and I’ve felt plenty…”

  Red simply observed, allowing her to go through her motions. Indeed, that mage was awfully perceptive, especially regarding fine details.

  Yet the source of her familiarity’s sense was hardly the cloak’s style or even textile as much as… “The dye.” Indeed, she looked at Red. “This…shadowy…darkened black dye—it’s almost too black for commonly available cloaks or fabrics generally…from my knowledge.” Truly, there were perks to having worked amongst merchant kind for too long than tolerable. “Most ‘black’ fabrics and dyes are not…truly black.”

  “Yeah.” Red simply acknowledged; he too was seeing his own share of…familiarity.

  “The only other time…” Blue continued on, “I’ve seen such a dye was…I believe…with that assassin crow?”

  “Hm…” Red mused within. “Step aside, Blue.” He motioned towards, and Blue stepped aside. Kneeling, he placed his polearm down and with both hands flipped the body over.

  And almost immediately…

  “Oh! Trinity above!” Blue gazed away, grimacing with quite the half-jerk. “What… What in each of the thousand realms??”

  “Yeah…” Red however retained a strong stare, and not because he was unbothered; he just needed to stay focused, as if being timed.

  Breathing in and out, Blue returned her own sight to that which she had jolted her so. “Yuck… I believed I’d seen my fair share by now, but each new adventure continues to prove me wrong…”

  Indeed… Skin blackened as if coal yet not charred; brittle and dried—almost mummy in appearance. Eyes shriveled, sunken, and collapsed deep into the sockets—barely existent crust. Lips wrinkled and curled as to be trapped in a permanent pucker or grit, teeth clenched and showing. The flesh was hardly rotten as much as…

  Indeed, as if the life and moisture had been siphoned out; as if death had struck the flesh and only the flesh. As if…

  “The plague?” Indeed, Blue was quick to find parallels. “Such blackened atrophy… The black plague? Or…perhaps ice burn? Or…” Her mind was anxious, so her answers were scattered. “Death magic? Though…”

  “Hm…” Red, however, avoided speculation for now and focused on observation first.

  The cloak, darkly shadow in dye, was worn over what was awfully plain in clothing. The style or fashion was…androgynous, however—venturer or traveling kind of attire worn by man and lady outrealmers alike. Hm… But this one’s chest…

  Without significant hesitation, he began to rip at the collar’s fabric, strange…purplish-blue dust flaking from the torn seams. Nevertheless, he exposed the body’s…equally life-sapped and necrotic chest. The flesh was perhaps rubbery and was devoid of any semblance of moisture, left desiccated and almost ice-bitten. But the…visible features were seemingly feminine—likely a lady, thus.

  Although… “Does this look like a lady chest or a guy’s?” Soliciting second opinion was still better than not.

  “Lady.” Blue was quick to answer, as if an expert on the myriad possibilities of human bodily types and shapes. “It was already evident from the…shoulder and hip…proportions—you could have asked me first before seeking the breasts.”

  “I’ve seen enough curvy lady-hipped men not to trust that alone, never mind with a body in this condition…” Red blandly replied. He lowered the hood likewise, seeing that…most of the hair—blackish in color—was still largely attached to the head. It was a medium short, thus…androgynous. “Alright, then…” He sighed. “I’ll just assume it’s a she and not go any further—no need.”

  At a moment where one could expect Blue to interject some…remark, not even she would cross that far. She had standards and at least basic situational awareness, despite the temptation.

  “The ears…” Blue did remark, however, having noticed… “They seem…that of man?” Indeed, the ears lacked any distinct features or point.

  “Body isn’t frosted cold,” Red turned his eyes to her, “and I’ve seen your ice magic at work; you yourself mumbled some shit about death magic… See anything I don’t?”

  “Oh, uhm… Hm.” Blue turned her lips and hunched lower, staff gently held on her squatting legs.

  Her eyes were ignited, that iris-engraved sigil brightly visible; that which was deep within being ‘activated’ and fully ‘awakened’, despite being somewhat preoccupied with maintaining that puffball. She was already awfully…sensitive, and she—or specifically that which resided deep within her—would only be more so in this state.

  She thus stared and peered, attempting to ascertain through vague and…opaque senses that she herself less comprehended as much as simply experienced.

  “I am not…too sure…” Yet Blue ultimately replied; “Although, I am receiving…a strange sense…” She kept staring, peering deeper… “Peculiar… I honestly…cannot say.” She shifted to him. “Although, some…sort of magic had to have been involved. Even in absence of my…feelings, it should be evident.”

  “Yeah…” Such was enough. Red stood himself up and retook his polearm into hand, the body being left where it had been. “Those…crates,” he changed focus, “I’ll take a look at them. You”—he glanced at Blue—“inspect the other four bodies that are closest; don’t bother with the whatever else is too far. Got it? Stay near me.”

  Blue nodded. “Gotten, gotten.”

  -|-

  Hmm…

  Red’s eyes so glared. Crates and boxes. Wooden with most being nearly the same sort of shape. They were not large, being thin and long—a specific shape, indeed. The largest crates or boxes were more storage for these lesser ones than anything else. All of them, he had quickly observed, were empty—seeming almost hastily so. There was hay, however; hay scattered around the outside and stuffing the insides as if a cushioning.

  Yet again hunching down, he placed his polearm aside and began to inspect—with both eyes and leather-plated hands. These wooden crates and storers seemed almost Far Western in their construction—industrially crafted. However, the wood itself was local; and he knew this wood…

  It was a peculiar kind of wood of an equally peculiar color—a distinct lemonish sort of pale green—found only in a specific speck of these lands.

  “Greenfield… huh?” Indeed, Red muttered aloud; unmarked were these crates, but there was no other possible realm of origin. His hand rummaged within the clutches of an open crate, feeling the hay as if to see if there was anything within…

  Hm. Not even a needle.

  “Uhuh…” He stood up somewhat, and turned his eyes… A different sort of wooden crate or box—practically a large and hollow cube. It was wooden, although of a different construction. A greyer or ashen sort of color. He had seen this sort of…crate before, although in different contexts…

  “Hey,” snapping him out of his thoughts, however, was the arriving Blue who had so popped into existence behind him—practically.

  He had totally not been spooked.

  “Finished?” Indeed, he plainly turned and plainly glanced.

  And Blue softly so nodded. “Mhm.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Well… Each of them appear plague-blackened in flesh… That deathly atrophy.” Blue tensed a little, recalling that which she had only moments ago seen. “Same cloaks, obviously, and…same sense of overall fashion. Plain, unpeculiar, nothing stylish or in urban trend. All five of the ones I inspected have mans’ ears and are ladies—and I doubly checked, since some were…trickier to intuit.” She ahemed.

  “Right, you did…” He had heard the sounds of her removals.

  As…dubious an ethics such corpse-defiling could seem, these were necessary procedures—not only because of the habits the Guild itself had fostered due to its labyrinthian bureaucracy and endless need for thorough verifications, but also because…the sex distribution itself could be a clue.

  Indeed… He knew of only so few cloaked things that so tended to weigh heavily towards one sex than the other, and those cloaks were of a particular shadowy black coloring even if not identical in appearance to that which he knew.

  Nevertheless, his senses were certainly tingling with that…sniff of greater games.

  “There was some sort of…residue on them also…” Blue thus reported; “Mana-flakes or something similar, I would presume, although… Again, there is something…peculiar. Also, they were awfully unpleasant to…the skin.”

  “Speaking of peculiar…” Red’s eyes went back to that ashen colored box. “Tell me, merchant freezer, got any idea what that’s about?”

  “Hm?” Blue too turned her still ignited eyes, seeing the dimly illuminated cube. “Uhm. Red. That is a crate.”

  Red’s tongue snapped his mouth’s tip. “Yeah, no shit. I meant, who—what—that crate might belong to.” He proceeded to point at the other crates about. “The rest of the shit here are the same Greenfield-looking trash; this one stands out.”

  “…Greenfield?” Blue’s attention swapped from the cube of interest towards those supposedly Greenfield-originated crates. “Wait, you are absolutely correct.” Indeed, the former freezer knew these crates very-very well. Becoming distracted by their allure, she so lunged to them. “These are-are…from the High Garden. Although, the shape…” Indeed, peculiar a shape these ones were. “These are…obviously not meant for the…typical fruits and produce.”

  “Blue, focus on the bigger-than-the-Demon-King’s-own-ass cube-box…” Red just stated.

  “Hmm…” Yet Blue eyed him, giving him a face. “How about a trade?” thus she began to so…negotiate; “You tell me what you obviously have deduced about these High Garden crates, and I shall, in fair exchange, bestow to thee…what I know of…that box.”

  Red nearly grughed; they did not have the time—according to his mind at least—for this… However, the fastest thing to do was to just play along. “Firearms,” he thus said, “guns, hand-cannons, shooting things: boomsticks.”

  “…” Blue tilted her head, processing… “…wait, thus, this implies Greenfield exports or trades in firearms?”

  “You didn’t know that?” Red was actually somewhat surprised.

  “Freezer, Red.” Blue was bland; “I know of every fruit and every exotic yummy from Greenfield, but not… Uhm, well, weapons—it is the High Garden… Why would they…”

  “Times are changing, mage.” Red just replied; “It’s a recent…transition, from what I know. They started to build factories and manufacture shit like firearms—fuck if I know why.” His eyes then pointed at the still-to-be-identified cube. “Now, your turn.”

  Blue ahemed. “Rightly, well, that big cubular is… Hmm…” She approached and began to inspect it. “The color is… I know it, but there’s usually an emblem for them…”

  ‘Them’, she said. “So, who know the makers? The traders or whoever?”

  “Dwarven Industries… I believe.” Blue glanced back at him. “I’ve only seen their imports once or twice, when I was in the east coastal realms during a very…very long job—the coin was so not worth it.” She exhaled. “But, yes… Uhm, their ashen or greyish wood is…very distinct.”

  “Dwarven, huh?” Red just mumbled, reflecting… His eyes then turned to the puffball hovering where it had been. “Though, with how dim your spell’s reaching from there to here, could be mistaking the color…”

  “Hmmm…” Though Blue gave a specially tuned eye to that cube. “Dwarves really love their perfect shapes, and…” She began to touch with her free hand, inspecting. “Yeah. This is the same wood—has to be. It’s very…dwarfy in texture, and…” She began to knock at it, pressing her ear… “Stiff, dense, and…rockish. Yep. New World mountain wood.”

  “Alright.” Red nodded his head, before taking a step back and seeing all things considered. “So, shit from the High Garden, and shit from…”

  “New World dwarves—not even ours.” Blue finished his thought. “Peculiar, wouldn’t you think?”

  “Heh.” He smirked. “You have no idea…” He shook his head slow. “New questions would be… The fuck is this shit doing here? And why? Was it all from that wagon or…? Hm…” So many questions, indeed. “Well, no point in staying around any longer,” Red shifted his attention back to her, “now let’s head back and…report this.” Although, to whom? Hm…

  “Finally, departure…” Blue sighed in relief; “I am so sick of caves—unless, of course…”

  “Yeah, let’s get going.” Red cut her off and began to move, Blue following.

  They thus began to make their way towards their exit tunnel, Red keeping his eyes attuned for any further details of significance. However, as they passed the wagon and approached the way whence itself had entered, he…noticed something about one of the two further distant bodies now closer…

  “Uhm…” Blue paused, herself having noticed too… “Wait, wait, Red… Stop.”

  Red, who had kept himself walking despite his own glancing, paused.

  “Did, did…” She pointed, her semi-widened eyes slowly turning to him. “Did that…one just, just…”

  “Yeah.” And Red just plainly stated, glaring it down. “It did.”

  Indeed, that body had moved.

  Blue…quivered slightly, an anxiety emerging in her breaths. Red’s eyes meanwhile remained locked as he gripped his polearm tighter, his posture becoming more readied.

  “…zom…zombie??” And his ice mage companion so retreated herself to behind his, well…behind.

  Yet any concerns for emergent undead quickly evaporated when they began to hear those girlish grunts and pained moans.

  “Oh… Oh, not zombie! Heaven above, s-she’s alive??!” Blue, in a swap of tone, rushed herself out from Red’s behind. “Red, come on! We must help her!”

  “Yeah… I guess we do.” Yet Red kept his glare as he too followed, though slower…

  Ah, so not a zombie—but a survivor. Thus, someone…he could potentially…interrogate.