Dark Age Year 871
Twenty First day of the Third month
It was a long ride from the village of Golden Apple when the three of them left at the break of dawn. The journey was extended because there wasn’t a single horse in the village that could handle or carry Rayner alone. A man of his stature required only the strongest warhorses; lesser horses would bend and buckle under his weight. While these horses were reliable for ploughing fields or transporting goods, they wouldn’t be useful for the task at hand, which required horses with the speed and stamina to cover a vast distance in a short amount of time. Fortunately, the village had several wagons, one of which, if pulled by enough horses, could support all three of them. However, their trip would be much longer than expected, but at least it was quicker than walking. As they travelled down the dirt roads, passing through the arid forests, small streams, and open dry plains that often dotted the more eastern parts of the frontiers, all three of them noticed dark clouds forming overhead in the distance. A possible omen, perhaps, was the thought that all of them were thinking as the first village they were coming to investigate came into view. Tharos then heard Cenric speak up.
“What should we expect exactly?” asked Cenric, sitting in the back of the wagon and adjusting his weapons and armour. He wore a simple chain shirt over a thin shirt and pants, leather greaves, and vambraces for added protection. He carried a spear, a small wooden shield, a one-handed axe, and a dagger as backup weapons. It wasn’t the best protection, but it was all they had to work with. The quality of armaments had decreased in recent years, and the procurement of high-quality arms was also in low supply. Items such as the breastplate and the metal greaves and vambraces that Tharos wore were not only hard to find or maintain but also expensive. Tharos didn’t fully understand the current economy, but roughly around one hundred to one hundred and twenty gold coins for a simple breastplate of average quality was considered a fair price. It was daylight robbery, is what it was. In his day, such a vast amount of money would have been enough to arm several men in the finest weapons and armour, and still have enough change to keep you and them well-fed for several months.
“I shouldn’t be surprised that in this period of civil war and strife, the economy has also taken a hit,” Tharos thought to himself, adding it to the mental list of things he wished to look into once they reached the city of Sanctus. As he was going over his thoughts he heard Cenric speak up again this time a little loader, hoping that Tharos would hear him.
“Hey, can you hear me, Tharos? Are you having one of your blank-out episodes
again?” Cenric sighed, stretching out and moving his hand in front of him to get his attention.
“Yes, I can hear you, Cenric. I was just lost in thought for a moment,” Tharos said as he turned his head slightly towards Cenric, focusing on the path ahead of them. “So, what was your question?”
“I wanted to ask, what exactly should we be expecting anyway?”
“Well, if we are lucky, this will be nothing more than the old wives’ tales of frightened village folk.”
“More like if we are unlucky,” Rayner added, giving a wide, toothy smile.
Cenric, ignoring Rayner’s jests, continued. “And if we are not so lucky?” Cenric asked, with a tone of apprehension in his voice.
“Well, if we’re not so lucky, we could be walking into villages infested by plague. But don’t worry about that. I made sure to get us some soap, clean water, thick clothes, and gloves to help protect us from contracting it. As long as we don’t touch anything, keep our hands clean, and avoid breathing in too much contaminated air, we should be fine…” Tharos then continued, “There is also the possibility that a necromancer might be behind this, and if they are, we could also run into undead creatures, such as zombies, ghouls, flesh golems, or worse.” Tharos could see Cenric’s face go pale, while Rayner, sitting across from him, had a glint of excitement in his eye, and his posture was relaxed.
“So what if this is a necromancer.” Cenric asked. Tharos could still sense the apprehension within Cenric, although Cenric was somewhat scared. Tharos could tell he was trying to bury his feelings down.
“We will take care of it,” Rayner said confidently as he looked at Tharos for agreement.
“Yes, if we do encounter a necromancer, Rayner and I will handle it. You, on the other hand, will watch our backs. If this does turn out to be a necromancer, as all current evidence suggests, we are going to need all the help we can get.”
“Understood, Tharos,” Cenric nodded.
“Good, we’re about to reach the village. Cenric, you stay close and watch the wagon while we investigate the rest of the village. If you see anything suspicious, don’t go alone. Make sure to inform us first.”
Cenric nodded, “Understood.”
As they arrived at the village and secured the horses and wagon at the entrance, all three of them were greeted by the sight of the abandoned village. It was approximately half the size of Golden Apple, accommodating around one hundred to one hundred and fifty people. The trio stood at the village entrance, with Tharos extending his extraordinary senses. He closed his eyes and quieted his mind to eliminate distractions, absorbing every detail of the village-every unknown and imperceptible sight, smell, sound, taste, and touch of its former inhabitants. The voices of the villagers echoed in his mind, discussing trivial matters, serious issues, and joyful occasions. Various emotions surged through his skin like bolts of lightning, some of which he could even taste on the edge of his lips. Positive feelings like happiness, excitement, and unfulfilled desires mixed with recent negative emotions such as sadness, fear, and hints of anger. However, he couldn’t detect the presence of any living beings, except for perhaps small rodents and birds. Most importantly, he didn’t sense any traces of magical energy. There were no undead he could detect, nor could he sense any spells or rituals being used. As far as he could tell, this place was clean, at least in terms of magical activity. It appeared that there was nothing magical happening in this village.
“Well, this is a good sign at least,” Tharos thought to himself. Perhaps his first assessment was correct, and this was merely just simple rural villagers out in the sticks blowing things out of proportion. It wouldn’t have been the first time this happened to him. But Tharos wasn’t one to leave things to chance.Tharos opened his eyes and turned to address his companions.
“I don’t sense any traces of magic in this village. So we can rule out a necromancer, at least for now.”
“A real shame,” Rayner sighed, exuding a sense of disappointment, while Cenric’s statement seemed to disagree. “Well, that’s good news at least,” Cenric said, with a hint of life returning to his cheeks. I suppose the idea of facing the undead divided his companions. Rayner’s eagerness for a fight was understandable, but considering what Cenric had shared with Tharos about his childhood friend, he would have thought such things wouldn’t have bothered him much. Tharos then retrieved thick cloth and gloves he had packed in the wagon and instructed his companions to put them on. After they complied, they covered their faces with the thick cloths and wore the gloves. It wasn’t the most ideal protection, but it was the best they had and better than nothing, given the circumstances.
“Why are you making us wear this stuff? It looks stupid, and I can barely smell anything under this cloth,” Rayner complained, his voice slightly muffled under the cloth that was now covering the bottom half of his face.
Tharos let out an audible sigh before responding, “Because if we touch anything contaminated with the plague, not only could we get ourselves sick, but we could also spread the sickness to other people. This gear helps to keep exposure and contact with contaminants low. Don’t you know anything about basic germ theory?”
“Germ theory?” Rayner repeated, looking confused.
“What is that?” Cenric asked.
Tharos, at this point, wasn’t even surprised or shocked any more. Such small things were a constant reminder of how things had declined since his day. “Of course, they don’t know what germ theory is. Just another thing to add to Cenric’s ever-growing curriculum of things that Tharos would teach him.”
“Never mind, just make sure you’re careful with what you’re touching or breathing in. And when we are done with our investigation, make sure to clean yourself up and burn the rags, understood?” Both Cenric and Rayner nodded in agreement and then looked at one another, as if they were trying to make sense of what Tharos was saying, hoping that the other one had a clue.
While Cenric stayed close to the wagon, both himself and Rayner would start their investigation. Rayner would begin by examining the outer perimeter of the village, while Tharos would search the few houses and buildings scattered throughout the village. Apart from hastily dug mass graves, fields left untended, and dead livestock that were most likely killed by the plague or slaughtered to prevent its spread to healthy livestock, it was clear that this was the work of a plague without a doubt. However, both he and Rayner would discover something. As Tharos searched through the homes, he made sure to pocket any loose coins or valuable items he could sell. He knew it was opportunistic and amounted to theft, but it was highly unlikely that the villagers would return anytime soon, and most of the former residents were deceased. It seemed better for him and his companions to benefit from the situation than no one at all. However, in one of the homes, he came across a diary that he assumed belonged to a teenage girl. Giving it a quick flick through, he was presented with the common musings of a girl her age: discussions about boys she liked, complaints about her parents, talks about local gossip, and mostly just pointless prattle. However, one entry caught his attention. It was dated several months ago and mentioned that in the village of Golden Apple, there was an alchemist named Faustina who had dealings with this village and many others in the surrounding area. Tharos raised an eyebrow as he read this. He flicked through more pages to try and find more mention of this Faustina, and the only entry he could find was one of the last entries where the girl laments about this plague and wishes that Faustina would show up and help this village, as she did before for this village and so many others. If what was in this diary was true, Golden Apple has or had at least recently a mage among them, an alchemist of all things. However, if there was a mage or anyone with otherworldly qualities, he would have most likely sensed it or at least the faintest of traces they left behind. For the few weeks he had been in Golden Apple, he didn’t see any sign of a mage, nor did he hear anyone talk about it, let alone meeting this Faustina.
“Why didn’t Nico mention this? Either he didn’t know about it or he did know and that’s what the lie was about. But the question is, why would he lie to me in the first place?” There were many questions running through Tharos’ mind about the possibilities. So far, the only answer Tharos could come up with is that Nico possibly lied to protect this mage from any overzealous members of the community and maybe assumed Tharos had the same prejudices. Even though Tharos wasn’t what you would call a normal human, or the fact that he travelled with Rayner, who wasn’t fully human himself and also clearly wielding a magic weapon as well.
Tharos thought to himself, “As much as I would like to ask him about this Faustina, I still don’t have the full picture yet. I think I will keep this information to myself for now until I have more to work with.” In situations like this, Tharos was reminded of his friend Vartark’s favourite saying, “We have information, but no context.” While Tharos was somewhat suspicious of Nico, he didn’t have enough information or context to act on these suspicions. As far as he knew, these suspicions were rather small and minor, surely not enough to compromise the good rapport they had with him and the village. As Tharos finished checking the rest of the houses, Rayner walked up to him.
“Yes, what is it? Have you found something?” Rayner then gestures his head toward the well in the centre of the village.
“The water in the well, it smells off. Like there is something wrong with it.”
Tharos went to inspect the well and sensed something in the water, faint traces of magic. It was so subtle that he could only detect it by standing close. Peering into the well, he noticed a shimmering object beneath the surface. Initially hard to make out, as he concentrated, he saw a glass veil.
“I sense traces of magic in the water of this well. I’m going to investigate further. Have some rope ready to help me climb out,” Tharos instructed.
“Understood,” Rayner replied, preparing the rope. Tharos then plunged into the well, holding his breath as he navigated the water. After a few moments of searching, he managed to grab the glass veil. With Rayner’s assistance, he climbed out of the well. As Tharos dried himself off, he noticed how foul the water smelled. “It’s a good thing I packed some soap,” Tharos said aloud. “Anyway, Rayner, I think I have figured out what is going on here,” Tharos continued.
“Really? Well, do tell,” Rayner replied. His voice was dripping with some excitement.
“This is no normal plague; the people in this village were poisoned, most likely by a magic poison of some kind.” Tharos brought the glass vial to Rayner’s attention. “And I suspect the other villages we were told about suffered a similar fate.”
Rayner gave an angry snort. “Typical mages, what they can’t do with an honest exchange of arms, they resort to trickery like this.”
“Well, you will be happy to know that the plot thickens even more on my end. I found a diary, and this diary mentioned that there was an alchemist who lived in Golden Apple by the name of Faustina. However, when I talked to Nico last night, he told me that there was no one in this village involved with magic. So either he is not as astute as he thinks he is, or he is lying to me.”
Rayner rolled his eyes. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time i have been lied to while on a job.”
“Well, I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I suspect there is a lot more going on than we are led to believe.” Tharos had the feeling that there was something going on, but he didn’t have all the pieces to make sense of it yet. Rayner gave a wide, toothy smile as he cracked his knuckles and adjusted his body. “Want me to have a little chat with him when we get back? I can be quite… convincing.”
“No, i think for now we should keep this information to ourselves. At least until we get a full picture of what is going on.”
“You always have to make things more complicated than they have to be, don’t you,” Rayner sighed, throwing up his hands in a jestful motion.
“Call it a product of my phlegmatic temperament. Anyway we found what we where looking for, lets pack and leave before our employer gets impatient.”
“Is that what you would call it?” Rayner said with a sneer. “Well, whatever you call it, it’s still milk-drinking for me.”
The two of them headed towards the wagon where they found Cenric sitting with a passive and bored expression on his face. His expression brightened slightly as they approached.
“Did you guys find anything?” Cenric asked. The two of them told Cenric of what they had found so far, and also about there growing suspicion about Nico.
“Well, I haven’t heard or seen anything about this Faustina girl, however,” Cenric said, scratching his head. “I did overhear some of the villagers talking about this farmer named Ozias who was murdered a few months back. People don’t know why or who killed him.”
Tharos narrowed his eyes. “Did you hear anything else?”
“Yes, i heard that he owned a massive farm about three miles north of the village, that he ran by himself if you can believe it. And when he died, the village elder took ownership of his farm.”
“It’s probably unrelated, but it might be worth looking into,” Tharos thought to himself.
“Cenric, I want you to go look into his farm tomorrow, if you’re able to.”
“Should be.” Cenric said with a shrug. “Most of the villagers don’t pay much attention to me. I’m sure I can find a way to sneak away and be back before they notice I’m gone.”
“Good, now let’s all head back to the Golden Apple before it starts to rain,” Tharos stated, looking at the ever-increasing rain clouds looming above them. After washing up and burning the protective clothing they were wearing, the three of them would head out and make the journey back to the Golden Apple.
