Ships no longer frequented Shadenburg. Occasionally, an enterprising trading cog arrived with barren holds looking to resupply, or fishing barges would dare to brave the sea looking for schools of fish to feed their people. Sometimes they returned once or twice, but never for a third time; none ever returned for a third time. Ten years ago, the port was filled with bloated trading vessels overflowing with spices, silks, or tea from the far east. Gold flooded into the coffers of the city, spoils from conquest in the new world or from daring expeditions seeking just one single discovery that would raise the finders from nobodies to being as rich as the greatest of kings. Ale flowed like water in the taverns; Inns never wanted for paying customers, no house that worked for their wages went hungry.

  Sure, there were problems, a plague here, war there, but the world was bright.

  "Ten years, just ten," Gui mumbled to himself. Ten years, a decade, not that long, but Gui's aching bones told him it was, in fact, a long time, much too long.

  "What was that, dear?" Martha, Gui's wife, asked. She was bent over a cauldron, stirring away at the contents. Her dress was old, the blue that once gave it a beautiful flare was long since faded. Gui missed the blue; it matched her eyes, but they had no money to replace the dress. Nobody had that kind of money anymore.

  "Nothing dear, just thinking to myself."

  "Even if they did, where would they buy a dress?" Gui thought to himself. No ships meant to trade, no trade means no material to work the factories, no factories, no clothes. Sure, they could travel the distance inland to the next town, Falkenstatt, but would they be any better off than Shadenburg? That was if they could even make it that far; the roads were no longer safe to travel, even the armed men of the 'King' were known to be found torn apart if they fell behind the main columns of the army.

  Two wooden bowls were laid out on the table by Martha, each filled with the same greyish thick liquid they'd eaten for the past three nights. A pair of matching cups filled with diluted wine supplemented their meager meal. Gui whispered a prayer to Iris, goddess of home and hearth. Today was a holy day: it was Ascension Day, marking 1,610 years since 20 mortals saved humanity and became gods. Outside, despite the late hour, the summer solstice was in full swing. Gui hoped that with summer's start, things would improve; his gut told him it would not.

  Gui made the symbol of the Pantheon on his chest, pressing his fingers to his chest, shoulders, and stomach, representing the five stars embedded in Lydus's forehead, the greatest of gods.

  The slurry did not go down easily; it never did. Even with Martha's abundance of skill in the kitchen, there was so little she could do to both make the food good and stretch it across the week as far as she could. Bits of bread had been used to thicken it, and wild herbs scavenged in the forest (despite Gui's warning his wife not to leave the safety of the Town's palisade) were used liberally to give it some flavor. Gui considered himself lucky that they were able to move past packing sawdust into their bread to make it more filling. With a much-needed gulp, Gui drained his cup of wine, even though it was diluted; he relished the warmth the alcohol brought him. Taking another slurp of his bowl, he found himself surprised when he started chewing on a piece of meat. He almost spit, mistaking it for some trick; it had been so long since they had any meat.

  Martha cleaned the bowls silently; she never was one for much talk. Gui couldn't help but stare at his wife; she had truly been blessed by Attia, Goddess of Beauty and love. "I truly don't deserve this woman." Gui had also believed himself to be much too lucky to be married to her. Ten years ago, Gui had asked her father, Mortier, for her hand in marriage. Somehow, he accepted. Gui had been much younger then, only thirty years old; his prospects were greater, too. He was going to be elevated to harbor master, in charge of running the entire port. Martha had many other suitors, too; she was just twenty and was widely considered the greatest maiden of the town. Gui thanked the gods they had grown to love each other, even after the 'abandonment' had left him destitute. She had every opportunity to leave him for another, especially since they had remained with any child. He often wondered if their infertility had been a blessing in disguise. Already six children had died before reaching the age of fourteen; there was no food.

  "Martha, how did you get the meat?" Gui asked curiously. Martha's long, healthy, black hair swayed as she turned to answer her husband.

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  "Karl, he gave it to me as a gift while I was washing our clothes. A whole squirrel, he caught it today." Martha answered joyfully, but quickly lowered her voice, knowing well how Gui didn't like Karl.

  'Karl': The mention of the man angered Gui. He was a predator hiding amongst sheep. Gui saw through his disguise; the man was a monster, yet it was Gui that the town had shunned instead of Karl. "Martha, I told you to stay away from him." Gui tried but failed to hide the anger in his voice. Martha looked down at her hole-filled shoes in shame. Gui knew he shouldn't have raised his voice.

  He went to his wife and embraced her, "I'm sorry, I know he came to you, just try to avoid him." Gui removed something from his waist and extended his hand to offer it to Martha. The hilt was set with a blue stone of rare make, lapis lazuli from an oriental mine; the foot-long blade of steel was buried in an ornate leather sheath. Gui had earned it many years ago during a campaign against the lizard folk of the Tanjakalur swamps in the New World. "Hide this on you at all times, always have it on you." Gui commanded, 'For my sake if not yours,' he prayed she wouldn't need it.

  Martha looked at the blade, horrified at the prospect of having to use it. Reluctantly, she accepted the blade. "Gui, do you really think this is necessary?" She asked, while hiding the blade on her waist under her dress.

  Gui nodded; he told her many of the stories he knew about Karl. Gui hoped his wife believed him.

  He kissed his wife on the forehead as he embraced her again. He needed to leave soon if he was to meet Marko on time. "I'll be out with Marko until late. Make sure to keep everything locked up." Martha nodded in acknowledgement, though her eyes spoke of her desire for him to stay.

  Marko was a large man; even on rations, his size hadn't shrunk. In fact, the lack of food only added to his frightening figure, as no more fat remained to hide the ripple of muscles that wrapped his entire body. A lifetime of work in the forge had made the man's hands calloused, and scars spotted his skin where the flames of his forge had burned him. Unlike Gui, Marko had never run out of work when the port grew empty. While he no longer forged anchors or his myriad other products to sell to captains needing to repair their vessels, he had managed to become the de facto repairman of the entire town. Yet he was a greedy man; his pockets were never quite full, so he had come to Gui with a job he could only entrust the Outcast of Shadenburg to keep silent about.

  "You're late." Marko was sitting against the overturned log that marked their usual meeting spot in the forest.

  Gui didn't bother to respond; Marko wouldn't care for an excuse anyway. They carried little as they made their way through the forest. Marko had some strips of dried horseflesh, Gui brought the waterskins, and both carried shovels. The forest was eerily silent, something Gui had grown used to a long time ago. No deer, birds, or other wildlife lived here any longer; a dozen armies had picked it clean to supply their men. Even the predators that filled the woods hadn't been spared the depredations of war; bears were hunted so their furs could keep people warm in increasingly cold winters. Only monsters remained to terrorize the villages, and not just the ones from children's nightmares, but the human ones, too.

  The graveyard was old, dating back to well before the mortal Pantheon had even been built. Ancient inscriptions left on tombstones were of a language long since extinct.

  "You take the right side this time, there's at least three left over there, I'll take the left," Marko ordered. Gui didn't argue. It was only fair that Marko got the pick of the graves; he had been the one to find the ruins.

  The graveyard was an odd one; the graves were all aligned in large circles around great white trees of birth, covered in inscriptions. Despite the overgrown nature of the surrounding forest, no trees neared the graves as if they respected them. The land was well maintained; no headstone was dirty or covered in moss. Gui had been put off by the place when he was first brought there. Magic was the only explanation, but no mages had come close to the area in decades; it seemed impossible that the imbued magic had remained for so long.

  Gui had been thoroughly covered in dirt by the time he shoveled the wooden box. After a few more shovelfuls of dirt, the coffin had been completely uncovered. All the graves had been dug unusually shallow; each coffin the site held was like a hollow log.

  With a grunt, Gui ripped open the log; the log itself felt like it was resisting him in a futile attempt to protect its occupant. Inside long, decaying bodies stretched unnaturally long, each bone was elongated well past the point that it could even be mistaken for human. Any further worries Gui held were quickly forgotten when his eyes fell upon the treasure they had come to collect. Like a goblin, he snatched the necklace of gold without a care as the bones fell apart at his greed, two more rings found their way into his pockets, and an odd-looking armband the elf had put around their ankle.

  Footsteps kicked up dirt behind him, drawing his attention.

  "Marko, I got some good stuff in this one. Have you had any luck?" Gui turned to face his companion

  The eyes that locked onto his were not those of a human; they were deep purple, slit like a cat's. A long, pointed end of a sword, unlike any saber of human make, touched upon his neck, not enough to cut his throat but enough to cause a droplet of blood from a nick. In a swift, underhanded movement, the figure tossed something at Gui, and he natively caught it.

  It was the severed head of Marko, still bleeding from the stump.