The meadow is eerily absent of vitality. The inhabitants that occupied this unusual space partially separated from Merrow's conventional reality now nowhere to be found, and barely any evidence of the conflict that took place here remains. Chill wind sends waves across the surface of the grass, and the only noise is the subdued chatter of the people behind me, my Guild.

"Thanks for carrying me~" Jade expresses her gratitude to Windy in a contented tone of voice.

"Hun, if you weren't like up to my waist, you'd be carrying me," her reluctant steed gripes, "Ughhh...baaaaath...There better be one at the end of all this, boss, I'm seriously at the end of my rope here. I feel like a goddamn blood sausage."

"I don't know if we'll be able to move in today or not," I sigh, just as tired, "Here's hoping they don't make things difficult."

There is still the open issue of the whole vanishing City Core. Zomn Klaeriss has been rather tight-lipped on how matters have been progressing behind the scenes with regards to that and the rest of it. Understandably so, but it wouldn't surprise me if the transfer of ownership was put on hold by Town Hall until it's dealt with. I suppose I should be thankful that they haven't had us arrested or confined within the walls.

"Better not, or I'm gonna be very upset," Windy threatens.

"Please refrain from making a scene and exacerbating the issue if it comes to that," Morn requests politely. She's been made more or less aware of everything we've been up to since embarking on that clusterfuck of a questline by now.

"I'll echo that sentiment," Angelus adds.

"No promises~!" Windy fakes an innocent giggle.

"Fuck'em up, Win," Jade eggs her on, not helping matters.

"Ah-hey, don't jostle me or I'll drop you."

"Sorry."

"So, where exactly are we going? That house?" Olrica questions.

"The lake," I answer shortly, "There's something I need to fish out from it."

"Like, actually fish or are you just being metaphorical?"

"The latter," I rub at a itch on the point of my left ear, "Gonna have to go for a dip."

"Skinny dipping?" Jade asks rhetorically, "Pass."

"Same," Windy follows up.

"Might as well wash the blood off," Morn advises her.

"Ehhh...point taken. It's not a bath though."

"Better than nothing," Olrica sighs, "I never wanna see another dog for at least a year."

"Grammar," I chide.

"Fuck you."

"Where did all the extra wolves go, do you think?" Angelus wonders aloud, "Did they just get shuffled off into another instance or something?"

"Not quite," I speculate, "Ancient Battlefields are a little different from what I understand. They're like a 'snapshot' of the moment they were formed preserved far beyond that time. In a way, we could be said to be standing in the 'real' place as it looks right now before the dungeon reasserts itself over this space. Something like that."

"So if two groups were to finish at the same time, they'd be dumped out 'here'?"

"No," I shake my head, "Not to contradict myself, but this still isn't the 'real' location as it would be if the dungeon weren't here. It's like 'now, but if the events we took part in really happened back then'. So, things like the battle damage done to the terrain sticks around here."

"That's...an unusual way of putting it," Morn observes, frowning.

"Where magic and metaphysics are involved, 'unusual' is the new plausible," Angelus laughs pityingly, "The more you try to understand and describe it, the less sense it makes typically."

"How much that's the fault of it being slapped down without much thought is up for debate," I add wryly, "It doesn't have much bearing on how we do things anyway, so there's no point thinking about it unless you're bored and want to go down the game development meets quantum physics rabbit hole for a few hours."

"Schrödinger's Dire Wolf," Olrica sniggers, "It exists in a perpetual state of being killed for loot and not being killed for loot until found by a player."

"I'm not sure that's how that works," Horizon comments blithely.

"Oh, hi. Wizard bros still being weird back there?"

"They're incorrigible," Horizon lets loose a long-suffering sigh, "You'd think they were long-lost twins."

"My condolences on being dumped for Jupiter," Windy jokes.

"Ah, such tragedy," Horizon chuckles, "Seduced by the siren call of magic."

I smile privately. Feels like everyone's getting along just fine. Bloody life and death battles are great for bonding, in my experience.

---

 

Goldfont Lake, Wolf Lord's Remains, Ujax Forest

Looking out across the barely moving waters, rather grey and brackish, I shudder at the thought of how cold it's going to be. They won't be the coldest waters I've been obliged to submerge myself in by a longshot but it doesn't really get any more appealing for knowing that. It's cold enough out here as is.

Following the shoreline in silence, I spot the marker I'm looking for, a long-abandoned fishing rod jutting out of the silt and the decaying husk of a basket half-buried alongside it. Jogging ahead, I squint and try to pick out where the string is resting in the lake. Bearing duly found, I begin to shed the blood and offal caked armour I'm wearing until I'm down to my underwear. The air is brisk on my skin and not at all refreshing.

"D'you really have to strip down like that?" Jade complains, glaring from over Windy's shoulder.

"I'm not going to try and swim in full armour if I don't have to," I shiver, "There's a lockbox down at the end of the fishing rod's hook, but it's a few centuries-old by now, so, trying to pull it in with the rod will just snap the string. Miracle it's lasted this long."

"That's an awfully specific piece of information," Morn comments, suspicious.

"Tell me about it," Jade huffs, annoyed.

"...I'll be back in a minute. Hopefully this won't take long," I ignore the two of them blatantly, kneel down, and start splashing my body with handfuls of icy cold water to acclimate myself before I jump in. Don't want to risk a cold shock and need fishing out myself.

"Have you gone diving before?" Horizon asks, curious.

"A few times, yes," I nod, shaking myself off, "Here goes."

I wade purposefully through the shallows, teeth clenched tightly shut to prevent chattering. I bend down once the water reaches my knees, hunch over, and push across the water, arms outstretched. There better not be any fucking leeches in here. That would be just my luck.

It doesn't take a whole lot of effort to get to where the line, pulled taut, dips into the water. My skin prickles and tingles as I tread water, getting used to the cold before I submerge fully beneath the surface. With one last great inhale, I throw my head back, then down below, carrying my body with it, sweeping my arms to pull myself further down. Through a slitted eyelid, I struggle to see more than an inch past my face in the spume kicked up by my motion, like the colour and consistency of a watery tea. Once the bubbles settle, I open both eyes fully, and head down to the lakebed. I can hold my breath for at least a minute and a half, but I don't want to be here any longer than I need to be.

I can feel a vague pull by the current towards the North as I reach the bottom, which is a silty, pebbled expanse of nothing. Fumbling my hand towards where I remember the fishing line being, my fingertip brushes against the string and disturbs a patch of silt, throwing up a cloud of dirt floating towards the surface. The string, as expected, also snaps from the strain, but I know what I'm looking for now.

Kicking my feet down strongly, I feel the strain on my lungs. Almost there. Digging into the lakebed, I pull out a rusty metal lockbox amidst another spurt of silt, and close my eyes on reflex. It's heavier than expected, but manageable with my well-above average Strength. Having gotten my prize, I kick vigorously in the direction of the surface with a little time left to spare.

Breaching, the feeling of the chill breeze on my skin makes me gasp on reflex, almost swallowing a mouthful of water.

"YOU GET IT?!" Olrica calls out from the lakeshore.

I spit, "YEAH! GOT IT!"

With one arm occupied I swim back to shore with a little awkwardness, relieved when my feet touch the ground.

"Welcome back," Morn greets me.

"What did you get?" Angelus questions in almost the same breath. They share a helpless look.

"As you can see," I heft the lockbox, "First, could someone do me a favour and check I haven't picked up any unwanted passengers?"

"Like?" Windy tilts her head.

"Leeches."

"Oh. Ew," she grimaces.

"I gotcha, man," Jupiter volunteers, "None on the front. Turn around wouldja?"

I oblige.

"Aaand clean on the back. Nice muscle definition though," He compliments.

"Thanks, I suppose," I shrug, then shiver again, "Olrica, take a look at this while I re-equip myself would you?"

"Sure," she takes the lockbox off my hands and almost drops it with a grunt, "Uhf. That is heavy. You one-handed that?"

"Wimp," Jade snickers.

"Oh, sure, like your stick figure arms'd do any better," Olrica glares over her shoulder, "This is like 60 kilos."

"Wiiiimp."

"Do you want me to throw you in the lake?" Windy offers sweetly.

"Shutting up now," Jade mimes a zipping motion across her lips.

Dressed again, I don't feel any warmer, "It's certainly bracing. It'd build character."

"Or hypothermia," Jupiter adds cheerfully, "See any three-eyed fish monsters with golden teeth down there by any chance?"

"That's a reference I don't get," I answer, "But no. Nothing of interest in there."

"It Came Up One Summer Night," Windy clarifies, "Not a terrible movie. Think they filmed most of it in VR as a stunt, actually?"

"Yep, bootlegged Unalive's engine for it," Jupiter gives a thumbs-up, then lowers his voice into a scratchy impersonation, "'Ha, ha, haaa...you shouldn't have disturrrbed these waaaters, chiiild...'"

"'Now pay the price of tresspasss...'" Windy completes the reference, smirking, "Yeah, that was in the trailer."

"Eyyy!" Jupiter laughs, "2102 was a good year for horror film."

"It was so-so," Horizon sniffs, wrinkling her face, "Ugh, we smell horrendous. You're the worst, Silver. Lake and gore don't mix."

"Apologies, but there's not a whole lot I can do about that right now," I rub the palms of my gloves together to coax some feeling back into my fingers, "Are you finished with that lock yet Olrica?"

"It's rusted to hell, give me a chance," she grumbles from the floor, "Also, yeah, I ain't no spring flower myself, but you reek."

A murmur of agreement passes around the group. I feel a little awkward about it.

"Aand, there," Olrica points dramatically to the sky with her finger, "Unlocked."

Opening the lid, she dumps the contents out on a patch of dry dirt. A string tied roll of paper, a key, and a locket made of scratched and dented steel. Feeling along the interior, Olrica clicks her tongue, pauses, then presses down on something, causing the receptacle to pop upwards like a spring. Removing the false interior, she pulls out a small, heavy bag that clinks and jingles musically.

"Knew it was too heavy for that to be it," she laughs triumphantly, "Score."

"How much is in it?" Jade the Loot Gremlin asks urgently.

"Iunno," she unties the bag, gives it an appraising shake, then paws a cursory hand through the surface contents, "Looks like an older currency than what we're using. Most of it is gold though."

"We'll have to visit the bank and see about getting it converted," Angelus nods, "They'd know what it's worth better than us."

"Makes sense," Olrica agrees, then picks up the roll of paper, unfurling it, "This doesn't. I can't read this shit."

"Pass it here," He offers, taking it off her hands and scanning over it with a frown, "Hm. I can recognise a few words here and there, but I can't read it. It's an older dialect of Modern Merrowan."

I sidle up to him, and he proffers it for me to see. As he said, it's an older version of Modern Merrowan, filled with weird spellings that make it look like gibberish to people unfamiliar with it. The grammatical structure is the same, though, and I can claim a greater familiarity than Angelus on the subject, more owing to my knowledge of Modern Merrowan as a language letting me fill in the blanks with context clues.

"You can read it?" Angelus asks, surprised.

"Barely," I confirm, leaning in closer to the page "His handwriting is atrocious, but it's a message left by the Wolf Lord, Iorve Rakson, former Councillor of the Imperial Council. In summary, 'meet me in my saferoom at the cabin if you're reading this message'. The money is supposedly a down payment for agreeing to meet him."

"...Is this man not dead, though?" Morn asks, perplexed.

"I think it's his ghost," Grand wagers, "Unless he's found the secret to immortality."

"Well, no sense in keeping him waiting," I back away from Angelus, and gesture for everyone to follow along.

---

 

Wolf Lord's Retreat, Wolf Lord's Remains, Ujax Forest

Even after all this time, relative to when it happened and when the dungeon formed at any rate, the smell of smoke and charred wood is still strong. The once homely cabin is a ruin, huge holes burnt out of the exterior, the furnishings smashed and the food long rotted into the floorboards as a thick layer of mould and fungus. The second floor, what of it is visible from below, looks too unstable to enter, but our business is beneath our feet rather than above our heads.

"What happened here?" Horizon ponders, wandering curiously around the remains of the dining area without a lick of caution.

"Fire, looks like," Grand replies with the obvious answer, "But...I'm seeing some pretty nasty stains that might have been from blood. Arson, maybe?"

"Assassins," I complete the hypothesis for them, "The Wolf Lord used to be one of the ruling members of the Imperial Council, the Empire of Stones highest authority before civil war broke out a few centuries ago. I don't know the precise details, but in modern times he's indicted as being a feckless coward who abandoned his responsibilities."

"There's a nursery rhyme about him told by locals," Angelus provides a bit of extra fluff, "'The Wolf Lord, Once Man Now Mutt, Would Rather Beasts Rut, Than Amongst Stars Strut.'"

"Lovely," Horizon quirks a brow, "They teach that to kids?"

"Apparently," he shrugs, "That's one of the tamer examples."

I snort a laugh, getting a funny look from him. After a second, Windy snickers as well.

"What?" Angelus looks confused.

"Never mind," I shake my head, smirking, "Pass me the key Olrica."

"Uh-huh," Olrica hops the remains of a chair and tosses it over, "Looks like there are some stairs going down in the back of the pantry."

"A likely candidate, then," I receive it gratefully, "I'll go down first and call you if I need help. In the meantime, don't go upstairs, the floorboards look too flimsy to support our weight. Might be some bric-a-brac around here on the ground floor worth taking, though."

"Gotcha," Grand accepts the order as I pass by, hopping over the spilt remains of a grain barrel infested with fungus.

Sticking my head into the pantry, I note the darkness and retrieve my lantern from my bag, lighting it before I head down, eyes glued to the floor as I take each step carefully. The wooden steps creak and squeak after experiencing the first footsteps in a long, long time, threatening to give way if I put too much force into it or linger overlong. The bottom of the stairs opens up into a modes cellar, with a number of musty sacks and barrels piled neatly along the walls, along with a large array of brushes, bowls and other animal care equipment, as well as a few farming tools meant for the overgrown vegetable patch outside.

I don't see anything that's obviously a door down here, but I suppose it wouldn't be much of a saferoom if it were obvious to anyone who happened to wander down here. Sighing, I figure it's best to get some other eyes down here to help me look.

"It's safe down here, but the door's hidden, so I could use a hand searching," I call up the stairs, not waiting for a reply before I start inspecting the wall closest to me to start with.

A moment later, Jade, Horizon and Jupiter all clomp down the stairs without a care for the fragility of the steps, but make it down safely all the same. After explaining obvious signs to look for, we split up and search the room separately in different areas. Horizon to the far wall, Jupiter to the furnishings, and Jade to check the floor.

After a minute or two, Jade lets out an exclamation of surprise, "Ah."

"Did you find something, dear?" Horizon asks, relaxing from her tip-toes after checking along the border of the ceiling.

"Keyhole in the floor. No seam though," she explains, scratching at the floor and blowing, "Full of dust. Yick."

"Great," I head over and hold my lantern closer, then compare the shape of the hole to the end of the key in my other hand, finding them a rough match. Double flats, one thick one thin with grooves cut into it.

"Back off everyone, just in case we trigger a trap or something," I shoo them back towards the staircase before I put the key into the receptacle, and jostle to figure out which way to turn it. After turning it clockwise twice, feeling a little like it's being screwed in, a heavy 'thunk' echoes through the room, and dust starts falling from the ceiling, bringing with it a familiar scent of decay common to sealed tombs and the like.

"Eurgh, that is vile," Jade pinches her nose shut, as does Horizon.

"No joke," she concurs, a little nasal sounding, "Smells like someone died in there."

"That'd make a sense," Jupiter nods sagely, largely unaffected.

I raise my lantern, and note that a section of wall we already checked has slid open on an axis, revealing a passage further down. Remarkably well-hidden, I have to admit. Obviously, the Wolf Lord will have had his own key and a way to open or shut the entrance from inside, but I can't help but wonder why he left a spare and a lockbox out in the lake like he did.

Perhaps he knew his time to leave this world was upon him well in advance of the incident. It would make a certain degree of sense for anyone in as contentious a position as his to leave contingencies as well.

My nose wrinkles, and I suppress the urge to sneeze, "I'll head in, then."

"Knock yourself out," Jade grimaces, "Don't forget to check for treasure. Guarantee there'll be more squirreled away in there."

"I know."

"I'll come with," Jupiter offers.

"No, this next bit is all me," I reject him apologetically, "Don't want the Legacy going to the wrong person or it'll be awkward converting the mansion to be our Headquarters."

The Guild Leader has to be the one to authorise such matters, and I can't just swap positions with Jupiter and back again without going through an annoying legal process full of paperwork and unneeded expenses.

"Fair enough," he thinks little of it, then leans back and 'fires' finger guns, "Go get that chedda'."

That was unspeakably lame, and I refuse to acknowledge it's occurrence any further. Good day.

---

 

The secret passage is unexpectedly long, and uncomfortably narrow, forcing me to advance at an oblique angle while scraping my nice armour along the piled stone walls. The stench only grows thicker and muskier the further I go, the only real evidence I have that I'm closing in on my destination.

Eventually, I come out in a small room, with a single bed, a cupboard, large, metal-braced wooden chest and a stove with a chimney that rises through the ceiling. Strikes me as rather risky to use, honestly, since the airflow down here seems to be negligible and the smoke could easily give away your position on the surface. But, well, not everyone is going to think things through.

The room has an occupant other than myself, a collapsed skeleton in old, torn clothing slumped against the headboard of the bed, atop the blankets. Hardly a dignified look, but so it goes, so it goes. Eyeing it for a moment, I sigh.

"Are you not going to say hello, Lord Rakson?" I question to the air, "I understand it's been a long time since you last had a guest, so I forgive you for forgetting your manners."

A hollow laugh enters my ears, "You're a strange one..."

At the foot of the bed, sat with his legs hanging over it, and smoking an ethereal pipe, appears a man in the same clothes as the skeleton behind him. His form is ever-so-slightly translucent, and a playful smirk wraps around the stem of his pipe, "You gave my kids a real working over. Oughtta punch you for that, y'know?"

"Your 'children' died a long time ago, you know?" I reply unphased, "Those creatures we slew are just poorly recalled memories of the real thing. Like bugs caught in amber."

"True, but it's the principle of the thing," he argues, with a mocking glare, "Not like I could even if I wanted to though. No, those days are long behind me. Surprised you found me, all the same."

"I had an inkling of where to start looking," I confess, leaning back against the edge of the entry tunnel, "So I can't take all the credit. But, although it might be pleasant to indulge you in a chat, the air in here is hardly pleasant, and we'll be forcefully parted soon enough. So, why don't we get down to business?"

"Hah, straight to the point I see? You, how much do you know about me?" he seems intent on belabouring the point in the end anyway.

"Only what I need to," I shrug, "Lord Iorve Rakson, Head of House Fander, Magistrate of the Fander region and Councillor of the Empire of Stone. Slain for the crime of neutrality in the midst of civil war to prevent his forces being added to the opposition if swayed. Also, more than a little obsessed with the 'woodsman' life and his pets."

"Is that how I'm remembered?" he laughs, rubbing at his balding head, "Well, I shan't deny it, but you...from the whiff of ya, you'd know why better than those fusty, power-hungry molifga, wouldn't you?"

My eyes narrow, "You speak of Arevas, The Magpie Demon, I take it?"

"That's the one," he snorts, smoke rushing from his nostrils but disappearing quickly, "Chatty bastard, always whisperin' in my family's ear. Drove my poor Da mad, he did, for not bendin' the knee. Promised to do the same to me if I didn't feed 'im. Promised rewards, power to keep my own peace apart from the politics of those northern snobs."

"So you fled to the woods, rather than listen," I conclude, understanding.

"Yes. Not that it did me much good in the end," he remarks, jamming his thumb backwards, "Turns out. Poisoned weapons. Could have nursed myself back to health if it were just wounds. Never got the chance."

"Turns out," I nod along, "Again, though, our time here is limited..."

"Oh, quit your whining," the old man scowls, "You want something, you gotta humour a lonely old soul in return. Ain't that just basic courtesy?"

"Speaking from one old man to another, no. You're just doing it because you take amusement in messing with people like me," I deadpan.

"You got me," he grins, "So? What can an old ghost fraying at the edges do for you?"

"I want your name," I state clearly, "And everything attached."

He squints at me, "I take it you mean the rights of House Fander and it's properties, right?"

"Correct," I nod, "What remains of them, at any rate. It's been quite some time since your death after all, and your killers didn't leave your estate intact."

"Hmph, they purged my whole family did they?" He asks, cold fury in his eyes.

"As thoroughly as they could manage, so they wouldn't need to share the authority gained from your absence with a successor, I expect," I confirm, "At least, I'm not familiar with any of the blood of House Fander still existing out in the open."

He puffs some more on his pipe, considering my demand. Sparing one last look over his shoulder at the corpse that was once him, he sighs, "Alright. It'll only rot with my corse otherwise. Just promise me something first."

"If you want me to avenge you upon the descendants of your former colleagues, I'll have to decline," I preempt him, "Such an act would be meaningless for both of us."

"Bah, no. I'm not that spiteful," he dismisses my concern, "Just, if you find one of them anchored to the world like me, tell them to suck a Trug's left tit for me. And make House Fander shine again, y'hear?"

Smirking, I push off the door and offer my hand, "I can do that."

He takes it firmly in his, the sensation hard to describe, but if I had to make a close comparison, it's like cupping your hand around a cold jet of air from a turbine, yet oddly tingly at the same time. Relinquishing our mutual grip, he gestures with his pipe to the chest, "Unlocked it for you. My seal and the deed to the old manor back in the city are inside, along with some of my favourite liquor. Didn't have the strength left to take a sip 'fore the end. Probably worth a fortune if you sell it, but it'll go down real smooth if you don't."

"I'll keep it as a reminder," I smile, "And open it for an appropriate occasion."

"Just don't let it go to waste, like I did," he sighs, looking up at me sadly, "Hey. Thanks for finding me. You seem like you're a good sort. Good luck out there."

"Thank you. In case we don't meet again, rest well," I give him a formal Empire salute.

He takes one last drag of his pipe, and like that, it's as though I was always the only person in the room.