After visiting with Paul and Eiren a while longer, I eventually managed to say my goodbyes before making my way toward the great mound at the center of the village.
Upon arriving, I was ushered inside by several youths dressed in white. They were polite enough to ask about how Blue was settling in his new home, and then showed an unusual amount of relief when I explained that he’d chosen to stay home for the day.
Last time he’d been here, he must have really left a strong impression. He did someone loot all of their carrots through sheer persuasion of his… personality. Just wait until they meet Mittens. At this rate, I might not even need to start farming. I could probably live comfortably through the winter off their combined spoils of war alone.
Actually, I should probably pay them back for their generosity as soon as I could. As humorous as I found Blue’s exploits to be, it would not do to have a reputation as the neighbor who selfishly took from others.
Lost in thought, I was guided back into the large chamber where I had met with Leonis and the other members of the Circle just days before. The doors opened into a room that was already heavy with tension, and voices fell silent as I stepped inside.
I slowed as I entered and was surprised to find that not only every member of the Circle was present, but the warriors from the Adventurers Guild were as well. Their leader, the man Jarus had called his brother, sat comfortably among the elders at the table, while the rest of the guild members were seated along the far wall in respectful silence.
“Honored elders of the Circle,” the youth announced, “Steward… I mean, Mr. Garner has arrived.”
I stepped forward, keenly aware that I was interrupting an ongoing discussion, as every eye in the chamber turned to look my way.
Still, as the steward of the valley, I supposed this was only natural. In truth, I probably should have come here immediately after yesterday’s events. Valley business was my business now, whether I liked it or not. It would take time to adjust to that reality, even if I had no intention of involving myself too deeply in the daily workings of the Circle.
“Ah, Samuel, it is well that you have come,” Leonis said warmly as he rose from his place at the round table to greet me. “Please, sit and have a drink. We were just discussing yesterday’s encounter with the gnolls.”
I nodded and took the open seat that had been made for me between Aldus and Flint.
Sitting between the two made for an interesting contrast. Flint was all broad shoulders, thick beard, and corded arms, and was a man who looked as though he had been carved from the valley itself. Aldus, by comparison, was surprisingly thin for a man of the valley, his frame spare and almost delicate. What he lacked in bulk, however, he more than made up for in hair, as his impressively thick brows overshadowed his eyes in a powerful unified effort.
As I took my seat, Aldus generously poured me a cup of tea, while Flint gave my back a solid pat that nearly knocked the breath from my lungs.
“Guildmaster Welker, please,” Leonis said, smoothly guiding the discussion back on course, “continue with what you were saying a moment ago regarding the recent events in the dungeon.”
The man took a long sip of his tea before setting the cup down on the table.
“Right,” he said. “As I was explaining, dungeon activity has been growing increasingly erratic over the past few weeks. The dungeon has always drawn monsters toward its dense concentration of magic, but recently we’ve seen a few… anomalies. Subtle changes in the behavior of some of the creatures within.”
“What do you mean by anomalies, exactly?” Leonis asked. The warmth drained from his expression as a harder edge settled into his features.
“Normally, the dungeon draws creatures into its depths, and as they gain power they become increasingly territorial,” the Guildmaster said. “An ecosystem forms naturally over time as the pecking order establishes itself, which in turn pushes the more powerful monsters deeper toward the concentration of magic. The monsters within fight one another just as often as they clash with the adventurers who descend to claim rewards from its depths. As you know, the magic levels are relatively low, so the beasts rarely achieve high enough levels to become a true threat to seasoned adventurers.”
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
“Recently, however, some of those beasts have begun to exhibit a more… unified response. We’ve only received a handful of reports so far, mostly from new recruits, which aren’t always the most reliable sources of information. Ordinarily, we’d dismiss such accounts as they are prone to embellishing their victories, which is why a formal investigation had not yet been launched.”
“But when you take yesterday’s events into account, it raises some uncomfortable possibilities. It isn’t unusual for gnolls to reach the coastline. Stray dogs, wolves, and other canines sometimes come into contact with the dense magic, and from there they begin their journey along darker paths. Under normal circumstances, the packs remain small and we’re able to follow a trail and piece together a point of origin from reports of monster activity outside the dungeon,” the Guildmaster continued.
Silence settled over the table as the man thought carefully before continuing.
“These gnolls, however, were never reported anywhere within the South Shores region until the day before yesterday. Which meant based on the lack of a paper trail, and the fact it was in a highly travelled area, this should have been an easy extermination mission. The nest should not have been that developed. We even verified our report with your son, Halius, yesterday before officially beginning the hunt. ”
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As he spoke, my attention drifted to Jarus across the room. His head was bowed, his posture rigid, as though he were bearing the weight of the entire chamber alone. The sight gave me pause.
I had thought him cold yesterday. His words toward Tabatha hadn’t been gentle, not by any measure, but that didn’t make him a bad man. I’d known plenty of farmers with mouths foul enough to make traders blush, men who could curse the sky one moment, and then give the shirt off their backs to those in need the next. It was hard to judge someone rightly based on only a handful of moments, especially ones under considerable pressure.
“So, where exactly are you suggesting these beasts came from?” Leonis asked flatly, weighing the information that had been laid before them. “Do you believe this gnoll pack and the dungeon’s recent behavior are connected? Surely theywould not be so foolish as to break the treaty.
They?
I was clearly missing some context, but the reaction around the table told me Leonis wasn’t the only one unsettled by the implication. Several of the elders’ brows creased in shared frustration, and Halius who stood close by his father gripped his hammer tightly.
To my surprise, it was Flint who broke the silence. He slammed his fist against the table, and the sharp crack of heavy flesh against wood echoed throughout the chamber.
“The Deep Kin would never do such a thing,” he said, his voice tight with conviction. “Despite their past history, they are bound by their oaths, just as we of the valley are bound by ours. Our treaty has stood since the time of our founder, since the days when the kingdom first claimed these lands, and drove the Deep Ones into the depths. If there is any people who understand the cost of broken oaths, it is them.”
“Peace, peace,” the Guildmaster said, raising his hands in an effort to calm the smith. “I’m not accusing anyone of breaking the treaty. I’m simply suggesting that we consider the evidence before us. The gnolls were emerging from a cave, and that cave may well have been their point of origin. It would have taken considerable time and resources for them to build a nest of that size.”
He let his hands fall slowly to the table.
“The dungeon runs deep, and the treaty forbids any party from venturing beyond the established borders below. I’m only saying that we should consider the possibility.”
A heavy silence settled over the table as the men weighed his words.
“What about the cores?” I asked, hoping to steer the discussion forward. “I don’t know anything about the Deep Kin, as you call them, but there was the matter of those cores behaving strangely yesterday.”
“Strangely how?” Aldus asked, as he turned in his seat to face me.
“When I was examining one of the bags of cores harvested from the gnolls, they began to pulse with a strange pink energy,” I said. “It felt almost like they were trying to… reach into my thoughts, or something like that. When I pushed back, every core in the bag snuffed itself out at once.”
“That is… very concerning,” Aldus said as he took careful notes on the details I’d shared. “The dungeon here naturally produces magically dense crystals that form in various shades of pink. Normally, these crystals don’t manifest within a creature’s core. Instead, they sprout externally, growing from a creatures flesh or bone over time. It’s usually little more than a cosmetic change, but the crystals themselves sell for a decent price.”
He tapped his chin thoughtfully.
“Then I have two questions,” Aldus said, turning back to the Guildmaster. “First, were any crystalline growths present on the gnolls themselves? And second… why are we only just now hearing about the cores?”
“No, I don’t believe there were,” the Guildmaster replied after a moment’s consideration. “My brother did mention the cores’ strange behavior. But like you, I assumed it was a quirk of the dungeon, or perhaps a lingering effect tied to the pack leader Jarus defeated. The creature possessed an aura, after all, and that may have contributed to the odd occurrence.”
He hesitated briefly before adding, his tone carefully measured.
“We set the cores aside to inspect them, but found no evidence beyond the fact that they contained no potential. No offense intended toward your new Steward, but he struck his head rather hard yesterday. I did not think to give his account of the cores much weight at the time.”
The Guildmaster took a final sip of tea, but before he could continue, Aldus spoke again.
“And of course,” Aldus said smoothly, “I’m you’ve already taken the time to see the spoils properly divided between the valley and the guild, as custom requires… including the cores are being held for further review.”
Aldus’s gaze remained steady and unyielding.
“Of course,” the Guildmaster replied, coughing faintly as he shifted in his seat. “I will personally see to it that they are included in the shares received by your men.”
Despite the agreeable words, I caught the faint flicker of irritation that crossed his expression before he smoothed it away.
“Well then,” Aldus said pleasantly, “I would be more than happy to assist you with the tedious number crunching once this meeting has concluded. I am quite skilled in such matters, after all.”
“That would be very… generous of you,” the Guildmaster replied, his tone carefully neutral. “Your assistance would be appreciated.”
Leonis, sensing the tension beginning to coil too tightly in the chamber, spoke from his place across the table, his voice calm but unmistakably final.
“Guildmaster Welker, thank you for your time today. We grieve the loss of your members, and we will consider all that you have shared with us. Should it become necessary, have the Duke send for us so that we may discuss this matter of the Deep Kin further. It is a possibility we cannot ignore, but it would be unwise to make accusations without solid evidence.”
The Guildmaster rose from his seat and offered a respectful bow to the elders gathered around the table.
“And thank you for your hospitality,” he said. “As always, you have treated us as honored guests whenever our paths cross here in the valley, next time I hope it is under more pleasant circumstances.”
The elders around me stood in turn, and I followed their example. Polite bows were exchanged throughout the chamber, signaling the end of the formal proceedings.
As everyone began to make their way out of the chamber, Flint grabbed my shoulder firmly and spun me in his direction.
“Garner, your sickles will be ready tomorrow. You will come by my shop, yes?”
Before I could answer, Flint patted my shoulder firmly and walked away. Like before, his idea of a friendly pat felt more like being struck by a boulder. As I did my best to play off the pain, Halius stepped up beside me as he laughed in understanding.
“You know,” he said cheerfully, “I used to accompany my father to meetings like this in full armor when I was younger. Otherwise, that man would leave me bruised after every greeting.”
“Did it help?” I asked, laughing along with him.
“No, not really,” he admitted with a sigh. “Mr. Flint would just pat me harder. Then I’d need repairs, and once I was defenseless, he’d pat me then too.”
We both laughed companionably as we followed the rest of the gathering back outside of the chamber.
