Reyna was carefully treading upwards on one of the sloped paths within the tunnel, a fierce flame illuminated the path behind and ahead of her.
Although the cool temperature and limited amount of air tried to weaken the flame, it continued to burn strong.
Her face still showed a frown, a remnant of her interaction with Plamus only a short few minutes ago.
Reyna touched the chain around her neck, after making sure that no part of it broke, she sighed in relief.
"Plamus... you are an idiot obsessed with strength and showing it off... go right ahead and enact your plan. I'll let you cull the numbers of rank threes, then sell you out and reap the benefits." she smiled to herself.
The moment the remaining rank threes in the camp learned of his plan, they would either kill him on the spot or chase him out to die and rot somewhere else, but right now was still too early, Reyna wanted to get as much value out of Plamus before discarding him as she possibly could.
Reyna moved on, their group wiped out nearly every local that remained in the tunnel, and though there still was a chance for her to encounter some that were unaccounted for, the only thing she did encounter was corpses.
Corpses of locals littered the floor, regular Treemen, Flyers, rank two Treemen, and even one single corpse of that rank three variant...
Reyna squatted down, she squinted her eyes and traced the wounds on the creature's body.
The green gooey liquid that acted as the rank three's blood stuck to her finger, it didn't hurt, it was different from the Flyer's acid, however she still gagged the moment she breathed in the scent.
There were two very distinct types of wounds on its body: the first looked like something sharp dug deep into the monster's flesh, however no one in their group was capable of inflicting such a wound... she and Plamus used magic, whereas the priests focused on defending everyone.
The rank two fire mages were just baggage, and it was impossible for the regular warriors to do anything beyond acting as a distraction.
She observed the second type of wound, they weren't quite as deep as the first, it looked like one flat object rammed into its body on different surfaces.
Reyna stood up and walked to several other corpses, each one had similar marks all over them.
"Is there another monster we don't know about?" she spoke to herself, then continued heading upwards along the tunnel, where the smooth surface of the walls transitioned into erratic and broken constructs.
"Earth magic? Seems like it at least." Reyna nodded, the boy had been through here and either fought or ran from the locals.
Could he have wounded the rank three?
Unlikely... but he probably knows what did.
Just in front of the exit of the tunnel she spotted another Flyer corpse, its belly's contents completely drained, and spilled along the ground.
"There is no blood..." Reyna looked out of the tunnel, there was no fog, and no green plants or trees, just pure darkness beyond the range of her flame, "I guess that means that you are still out there..." her clothes had somewhat dried, but a red glow still managed to flash through them for but a moment, "He could be anywhere by now... just me alone searching for him would take too much time, and even then, my chances don't look too good... what to do, what to do?" she walked in circles for a few minutes, contemplating her next move.
Reyna covered her mouth, deep in thought, but not even her hand managed to hide the smile that was growing on her face, "Perfect. It's perfect. Congratulations Plamus... you just became the lead-actor in this play."
... ...
A small carriage pulled by a singular horse was travelling on a rocky road, an older man with a full grey beard held the horse's reins, his skin was wrinkly, and he coughed every once in a while.
His coughing was dry, and his throat sounded sore, thirsty, but no matter how many sips of water he took from his flask, it did not help.
He did not seem to mind, but he regularly turned his head behind himself, to check on the cargo he was carrying.
The cargo area of the carriage was covered by a plain piece of cloth hung over several wooden barrels and crates, it looked like it used to be white some ages ago but had since become a yellow and brownish combination.
The cloth itself was riddled with holes, and several rays of sunlight managed to pierce into the back area, shining onto the goods, as well as a lone hooded figure.
The wheels kept knocking against the uneven road, the journey was far from silent, and yet the man felt compelled to speak with the stranger he was escorting, "I hope the ride is not too uncomfortable, miss." his eyes were closed as he beamed a smile at his passenger.
Even though they were approaching the lands of the Ironhoof family, the man felt glad to have another layer of protection, an adventurer who promised to safely escort him in exchange for taking them along.
It was a selfless gesture from both parties, which just caused the old man to appreciate the lass even more.
"Could you slow down the carriage a bit?" a sweet and captivating voice returned from the back, yet another boon the man appreciated.
"Are we going too fast? Of course. Right away." he happily obliged, then carefully tugged on the reins, his horse neighed and obeyed without a fuss, the two appeared to be lifelong partners.
The rhythmic knocking of the wheels against the rocky road became less frequent, the singing of passing birds and the blowing of the wind seemingly picked up in intensity, but there was another sound that appeared to be getting louder, perhaps coming closer?
The old man turned to his left; he bowed as far forward as he could without falling out of his seat, but he did not manage to glance behind the carriage, "Excuse me, young miss. Could I ask you to check what that sound could be?"
His passenger got up from her seat and walked to the back end of the carriage, she lifted up the cloth and squinted her eyes as she focused on some kind of blurry object on the horizon.
She dropped the cloth back down, then walked across the carriage to take a seat on the driver's porch, next to the old man.
A delighted chuckle escaped him, an unexpected event, but one he did not mind in the least, "Did you see something?" he inquired, but the woman gave him the cold shoulder, her face and expression hidden underneath her hood.
Galloping, the sound of hooves striking the paved road, was creeping closer, "Huh?" the man exclaimed as he once again tried to glimpse behind the carriage, as unsuccessful as the last time.
The old man jolted in shock as two horses on each of his sides pulled up, they circled around the slow-moving carriage, before reaching the same pace, trotting alongside him.
His calm grip on the reins was shaking, the riders of the horses were clothed in partly broken armour, dried blood covered their chest-pieces, as well as their clubs and swords.
The old man took a slow and deep breath, this wasn't the first time he was being robbed, but his limbs went numb as he spotted an engraved crest on the horses' armour, "Bloody Hooves..." he blabbered in shock.
These people weren't any regular bandits!
They belonged to the Ironhoof family; they were free to do as they pleased in this territory!
The old man tilted his head, his passenger entered the corner of his eye, she wasn't moving, not talking, wasn't shaking, nor breathing... she was frozen in shock.
He sighed; he was happy that an adventurer had volunteered to join him on the road, and even promised to protect him and his cargo, but against such bloodthirsty foes, it was only natural to back down and avoid any trouble.
One of the bandits flexed his muscles, "Old man, you got anything to spare for a few men in need?" his deep voice buzzed in their ears.
The old man flashed a pained smile, then gestured at the back of the carriage, "I- I was planning on selling some things in your esteemed city-" he spoke while clasping his hands together, "But if it's just a bit..." he winced, "-I can surely spare something."
"Haha! Good! Good!" the bandit rubbed his hands as he peered into the carriage, "Don't worry, we'll only take three barrels."
"Three?!" he shouted, then broke out into a fit of coughing, "That- that's more than half! I- I can't spare that much! I have a horse to take care of!"
"Mhm..." the bandit acted like he was considering the old man's pleading, "Well, if it bothers you that much, we can also take the horse off your hands." he shrugged.
"NO!" the old man rose from his seat and spread out his arms to stop the bandits from approaching.
"Hey, hey now. We don't want to cause any unnecessary trouble; we are just here to collect a toll for passing through our territory. No toll means no entry." the bandit smiled at the old man, his gaze was cruel and calculative.
"Rotten to the core. Just like your owners." the female passenger stood up; a strand of white hair emerged from the cover of her hood.
The old man raised his hands, fear filled his eyes, "Haha..." he laughed nervously, "She- she didn't mean that good Sirs!"
"Please just- just take the barrels and let's pretend like none of this ever happened!" he pleaded with them.
The bandit grumbled, "Your missy there is throwing around quite a few arrogant words. I don't think we can overlook this so easily..."
"T-Take all the barrels! Even the crate!" the old man was practically begging them to rob him broke, to take everything he had on board.
A cool breeze blew past the bandits' ears, they smiled, but only moments later their expressions were preserved for years to come, "Die like the dogs that you are." the woman spoke, and a sheen of white spread across the bandits' skin.
The old man took shaky breaths, each accompanied by white mist.
"Mage!" he exclaimed in shock, he tried to back away from the woman, but there was only so much room to move on the driver's porch, he quickly stepped over the edge, his one-foot hovered midair, as his body was tilted backwards.
The man braced for impact, he raised his hands to cover his head, but the woman grabbed his arm and pulled him back onto the porch.
His heart was beating out of his chest, and his horse was loudly neighing, already pulling the carriage away from the statues of ice to escape the growing affected area.
Without another word the woman returned to her seat among the barrels in the back of the carriage, like the four bandits she just murdered had never existed to begin with.
He sat back down, his hand on his chest, he was heaving, breathing loud and hard.
The fresh ice figures slowly became a blur on the horizon as the carriage continued moving along the road.
The old man sat upright, his head only facing forward, and not a single other muscle inside of his body dared to move for the rest of the journey.
He did not glance back even once, afraid of offending the passenger he had regarded so warmly only a short while ago.
An imposing wall of rock lay ahead of them, red banners with black hooves were plastered all over it.
Pyrehaven, one of the major cities that fell under the rule of the Ironhoof family, an illustrious place known to draw in adventurers and thrill-seeking mages.
Historians have tried to uncover the origins of the name; several guesses were made as the title 'haven' suggested that the city was some kind of bastion against an unknown foe.
Such people would frequently venture into the Land of Fog, which was the next closest thing to this city, in hopes of uncovering forgotten pieces of humanity's past, yet most would return in a coffin, or wouldn't return at all.
The carriage drew closer to the gates, the old man looked up the wall, where he met the gaze of a patrolling crossbowman, before promptly averting his gaze back ahead onto the road.
He gulped, as a group of guards prepared to receive and investigate his carriage, the back of his neck tingled, but he pressed on.
"Greetings Sir. What business do you have here?" one guard raised his hand to signal for the carriage to stop, then he glanced at the men by his side, who surrounded the carriage, looking into every nook and cranny to find something dangerous or potentially unwanted.
"G-Greetings. I am here to trade. I am carrying five barrels of wine. As well as a single crate of medicinal herbs." he tried to supress his fear, but sweat ran down his entire body as he heard the guards climbing onto the carriage, to inspect his wares...
"Wine, eh? Just in time for the celebrations. I'd buy a barrel myself, too bad I am on duty..." the man grumbled, then tilted his head and looked past the old man with scepticism.
His guards returned to his side, and he made way for the carriage, "Everything seems to check out, Sir. Have a pleasant stay." he waved the old man through.
"Thank you. You too- ah, never mind." he scratched the back of his head and chuckled anxiously.
He passed through the checkpoint, and not a moment later his head shot around to look at the back of his carriage... the woman was gone.
"When...?" he mumbled, but intently shook his head, he shouldn't care, he should mind his own business, he reminded himself.
It was best to not get involved with mages, only death and destruction followed those fellows and anyone they accompanied.
One of the crossbowmen shivered, he wrapped one of his arms around himself, then rubbed his exposed skin.
"Feeling cold? You were the one who insisted that we shouldn't wear a jacket." another guard next to him raised his eyebrow at the sight.
"Tch. It's just a breeze. I'm not a baby!" the crossbowman stopped rubbing his skin and instead puffed out his chest.
The hooded lady, now among the shadows of an alley, perked her ears, she listened in on the conversation, then nodded, and pulled her hood down further to make sure as little of her face was visible as possible, before disappearing among the buildings of Pyrehaven.
The city's square was lively, cloth lines were spanned between many of the buildings and decorated with colourful scraps of cloth.
Loud music was playing, and echoing through the bustling streets, drums and trumpets beckoned for onlookers to come closer, the melody was uplifting and inviting.
The crowd moved in unison, everyone went the same way, their eyes were filled with excitement, and their feet moved to the rhythm.
"Welcome! Everyone!" a voice boomed, even louder than the sounds of the instruments, an announcer at the top of a square, that looked like a makeshift arena.
"Gather around! Gather around! We are about to start the third day of our yearly Magic Rumble!" his declaration gave birth to many cheers and whistling.
The people around the square held conversations, laughed, drank, and hummed to the tunes of the music, but their focus rested on the man.
"Yesterday we had the honour of witnessing an unbelievable upset! Our reigning champion of the last year, and beloved hero... Serka lost for the first time since his debut!"
"I know! I know! Heartbreaking, however, that just goes to show how incredible our newest addition truly is! Ladies and gentlemen! Give up a round of applause for our underdog! Daaaaa-mian!!" the crowd burst out into even louder cheers as the announcer introduced the first contestant.
He applauded and smiled as a young man with short brown hair and a long, dress-like attire jumped onto the stage, he raised his fist and grinned.
"Now, as for his opponent today... a true veteran when it comes to our beloved rumble! There is no one who doesn't know him, no one who hasn't received his help in any form, a former battle-hardened general of the Ironhoof family, a man who needs no introduction, but I just love roaring his name at the top of my lungs! Gunther!"
The crowd went insane, people shouted his name in response, "Gunther! Gunther! Gunther!"
An elderly man with a hunched back and grey hair slowly stepped onto the stage, he was supporting himself with a wooden crutch.
He looked like an unassuming and helpless old man, but that did not stop the people from celebrating at his appearance alone.
The announcer walked closer to Gunther, then wrapped his arm around Gunther's back and gestured at the crowd with his hand, "Gunther, thank you for taking part in this year's brawl, it truly is an honour to have you. Could you spare a few words for the crowd about how you are feeling today?"
The old man cleared his throat, and the onlookers became instantly quiet, they showered the man with their sheer and utter respect, "Well, thank you for inviting me today. It has been a few years since I was in our good Baron's service, but although I have already gotten old, and I no longer have a need for the artefacts I could potentially win as a prize... I am not going to go easy on you youngsters, you better mark my words." he laughed heartily as he beamed a content smile at Damian, his soon to be opponent.
The announcer let go of Gunther and stepped in front of the crowd as both contestants prepared in their respective corner of the square, "You heard it, ladies and gentlemen! Our dear Gunther will provide us with another entertaining battle this year! Potentially vying for first place to win the grand prizes that were uncovered in the Land of Fog! Place your bets! Fill up your cups! And get ready... to RUMBLE!"