Chapter 4.1: Four Days Break in the Village of Berkinsil
Year 0004, Month I-III: The Imperium
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Day 15: Berkinsil Village (I) - The Odd and Eerie
After spending the night outside the village walls—having arrived after the gates had been sealed shut for the evening—the caravan began to stir awake at their usual time, a routine they had now deeply ingrained in themselves. August, being the type to awaken first before anyone else, had begun stretching himself for the day ahead. However, it was not only he who had grown accustomed to such early waking hours; those closest to him had adopted the same pattern, especially those who had been with him the longest since their departure from the village of Maya.
Namely, Erik, Bren, Betty, Angeline, Adam, Isabel, and Andy had all synchronized their schedules with his, while now it also included Marcus, Sibus, and Milo—the most persistent of his newfound companions he had met on his travels. For reasons unknown to them, they had begun to naturally adjust to such disciplined routines. While Sibus remained as reclusive as before, he now had no choice but to take time and communicate with other people, as most of the males in their community had been relegated from the wagons' personal living spaces.
The wagon quarters, which could only accommodate 68 people, were currently being utilized primarily by children and their mothers, as well as the other females in their group. They made those beds work efficiently, even if they had to squeeze two people together sometimes. The arrangement was practical, if not entirely comfortable. Meanwhile, most of the men found themselves sleeping in the 11 tents August had purchased previously in preparation for their journey, creating a temporary but functional camp outside the village walls.
The morning began with their established routine: a vigorous morning jog that traced the perimeter of their makeshift camp, followed by a comprehensive series of bodyweight calisthenics designed to maintain their physical conditioning. This was then succeeded by intensive combat drills that ranged from individual duels to multiple-opponent scenarios and coordinated group combat exercises. The clashing of practice weapons and the rhythmic breathing of concentrated fighters created a familiar symphony that had become the soundtrack of their mornings.
Those who possessed proficiency in magic would incorporate specialized magical training during their rest periods, particularly during these four-day breaks when they weren't actively traveling. The air would shimmer with controlled magical energies as practitioners worked to refine their techniques and expand their understanding of the arcane arts. What made this morning different from their usual routine was the presence of Master Ben, who observed them with keen, analytical eyes.
Though the older wizard had not offered much in the way of direct instruction thus far, they all knew he was studying them with curious inquisition, his weathered face betraying nothing of his thoughts. At regular intervals, he would pause to scribble notes on pieces of parchment, the contents of which remained known only to him. If August could venture a guess, those notes likely contained the master's observations and planned constructive criticism that would eventually help them become more proficient in their usage of mana and magical techniques.
August found himself hesitant to ask the old wizard to teach him about fire magic, despite his growing curiosity about the destructive and powerful element. He chose not to press the matter for now, reasoning that his two secondary elemental affinities had proven quite appropriate and effective for the encounters they had faced thus far. Perhaps there would be a more opportune moment to broach the subject in the future.
After completing everything from their morning regimens to a hearty breakfast prepared over their camp fires, they began the familiar process of packing up their camp to head inside the village. The morning sun had risen sufficiently to warrant the opening of the village gates, and it appeared that the guards had already informed the residents inside about their guests who had spent the night camped outside the protective walls.
The standard procedure of gateway entry checks—common to every settlement they had encountered—commenced without delay. They found themselves being questioned by the head captain of the village guards, a stern-faced man with weathered features who inquired about their purpose for visiting the village of Berkinsil. His questions were thorough but not hostile, suggesting a professional approach to security rather than outright suspicion.
After August carefully explained their circumstances as traveling merchants seeking temporary respite and resupply, the head guard merely nodded with understanding. The identification August provided as the leader of this caravan was submitted to a magical scanning device, which appeared to be connected to some form of stored database located elsewhere. The device hummed with arcane energy as it processed the information, its crystalline surface glowing with a soft blue light.
August's record appeared alongside Marcus's credentials as the head accountant and Andy's documentation as the manager of Maya's Traveling Mercantile. The magical verification revealed no falsehoods in their documentation, and after a thorough but respectful inspection of their wagons' contents and an accurate count of the people traveling with them, the guards granted them entry to the village along with their two bonded beasts.
Typically, established merchants would receive a discount for their services to the local economy, but due to the current circumstances of the village—which the guards alluded to but did not elaborate upon—no such accommodation was offered. A single day of residence within the protected walls commanded a price higher than most villages August had encountered. This elevated cost was attributed to the enhanced defensive measures and security that the village provided, a premium for safety in these troubled times.
The daily cost of staying within Berkinsil's walls was set at 20 local copper coins per person. Considering their planned four-day stay, August calculated the total expense and paid 48 local silver coins and 80 local copper coins to cover their entire group's accommodation fees. The sum was substantial, but the security and peace of mind it provided seemed worth the investment.
The village itself was not a particularly vast settlement like those of large towns and cities, which created an immediate challenge as they sought an appropriate location to park their seven substantial wagons. The vehicles were impressively large, designed for long-distance travel and substantial cargo capacity, making them difficult to maneuver and position within the confined space. They needed to locate a suitable area within the village's 10-kilometer-squared territory, a task that proved more challenging than initially anticipated.
Berkinsil was indeed a larger village, approaching the size and complexity of a small town in its scope and infrastructure compared to its peers. The stone walls that enclosed it served as a beacon of hope and security for the people who had chosen to make their lives within its protective embrace. Under different circumstances, Berkinsil would have achieved official town status years ago, but the diminishing trade routes following the opening of the imperial highway had relegated the settlement to village classification.
The previous Baron of this territory had invested heavily in infrastructure and development, anticipating growth and prosperity that never materialized. As time passed and the difficulty of attracting merchants to stop in this location increased—largely due to constant bandit raids that had made this particular route undesirable for most traders—the Baron's investments failed to yield returns. Eventually, financial ruin claimed him, and only the physical buildings and improvements remained as testament to his ambitious but ultimately unsuccessful vision.
These structures were now maintained by the current Lord of Berkinsil, Todd Berkinsil the Fifth, grandson of the previous lord who had overseen the failed development. The young Baron had inherited not only the title and responsibilities but also the challenge of maintaining a settlement that existed somewhat outside the main currents of commerce and trade.
Despite these economic challenges, the people of Berkinsil had developed a reputation for being hardy and resilient, qualities that served them well in their circumstances. Constant raids from bandits and various raiders had necessitated that every resident be capable of defending themselves and their community. This environment had forged a population that was tough, self-reliant, and suspicious of outsiders—traits that had ensured their survival but made them somewhat insular.
Fortunately for August and his caravan, the current Lord—Todd Berkinsil the Fifth—had personally come to the gates to welcome them. His presence there represented something of a rarity, as it had been many years since travelers had passed through without bearing obvious signs of mortal injuries and wounds from their journey. His discerning eyes, trained by years of evaluating threats and opportunities, quickly assessed that these particular travelers possessed strength and capability far beyond the typical merchant caravan.
What puzzled him, however, was learning from the guards that these well-equipped and obviously prosperous merchants were not heading toward the major city of Gremory, as logic would suggest. Instead, their destination lay in the opposite direction, toward territories that were generally considered more dangerous and less profitable for trade.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the village of Berkinsil," the Baron announced with genuine warmth, his voice carrying the authority of his position while maintaining an approachable tone. "I am the current Lord of this place—Todd Berkinsil the Fifth. I have heard that you require a suitable location to park your wagons and provide care for your beasts of burden. Please, do not concern yourselves with this matter. I have precisely the place where you can rent a secure plot of land for your vehicles, and we can also provide professional care for your animals at a discounted price."
"It is indeed an honor to meet you, Baron Berkinsil," August replied with appropriate respect, inclining his head in acknowledgment of the nobleman's rank. "My name is August, and I serve as the leader of this caravan. It is most welcome news to hear that you have facilities available where we can properly park our wagons and allow our animals the rest they require. Please, if you would be so kind as to lend us one of your men to direct us to the appropriate location."
"Oh, please do not trouble yourself with concerns about directions, Sir August. I shall personally escort you to the location myself," the Baron responded graciously, his manner suggesting that such personal attention was not entirely unusual for him.
"Are you quite certain, sir?" August inquired, his tone reflecting both gratitude and concern. "Considering your important position and responsibilities, we would not wish to impose upon your valuable time to such an extent. Your generosity in offering assistance has already placed us considerably in your debt."
Baron Berkinsil found himself genuinely shocked that August continued to demonstrate proper respect for his authority and position, despite the younger man clearly possessing the bearing and presence of someone accustomed to wielding considerable power himself. The quality and condition of August's equipment, the impressive scale and organization of his caravan, and the disciplined behavior of his people all spoke volumes about the substantial resources and influence he commanded as a traveling merchant.
Yet despite these obvious indicators of power and wealth, August maintained the traditional respect accorded to nobility, even in a place where such formalities no longer held the same meaning or practical importance they once had. This behavior stood in stark contrast to previous travelers who had stopped in Berkinsil, who despite often arriving injured and in desperate need of assistance, had frequently acted with pride and open disrespect toward his authority as the lord of the territory.
These negative encounters with previous visitors had contributed significantly to the general air of animosity and suspicion that the local residents harbored toward travelers. However, these new arrivals seemed fundamentally different from those earlier, unfortunate encounters. Their respectful demeanor and professional conduct suggested that building a positive relationship with them might prove beneficial for all parties involved.
"Please, think nothing of it, Sir August," the Baron replied warmly. "You see, administrative duties are relatively light in a village of this size, so I find myself with considerably more free time than my counterparts in larger settlements. I have all the time necessary to ensure that you and your people are settled comfortably and appropriately." He kept his additional thoughts to himself for the moment, recognizing that it was still premature to form definitive judgments based solely on these initial interactions. Nevertheless, they had already created a distinctly positive impression on him.
Baron Berkinsil led them through the village streets to an excellent plot of empty land situated directly across from the sole remaining inn of Berkinsil. This establishment, which had somehow managed to continue operations despite the economic challenges that had claimed other businesses, had been operating at significantly reduced capacity for years. However, with the sudden and unexpected influx of customers represented by August's caravan, the inn had sprung back to vibrant life, its staff working energetically to accommodate the increased demand.
The timing suggested that the village's inability to accommodate them the previous night might have been partially due to frantic preparation efforts. It became apparent that the village residents had spent the previous evening conducting a community-wide effort to clean and prepare their settlement to make the best possible impression on their unexpected visitors. The inn, in particular, showed clear signs of having been thoroughly cleaned and organized recently, its windows gleaming and its entrance swept and welcoming.
August and his companions found themselves somewhat overwhelmed by the reception they were receiving, as they were being treated with a level of respect and deference typically reserved for nobility or other important personages. For people who considered themselves merely ordinary travelers, the attention was both flattering and slightly disconcerting.
After successfully positioning their wagons in the designated area, they proceeded to escort their ten six-legged horses and nine four-horned Tamaras to the local stable facilities. The cost for feeding and caring for animals of such size, along with fair compensation for the workers who would tend to them, was surprisingly reasonable at just 3 local silver coins per day. Considering the substantial size and specific needs of their beasts of burden, August considered this a genuine bargain and promptly paid 1 local gold coin and 7 local silver coins to cover the four-day period of care.
Meanwhile, the rental fee for their parking area was established at 1 local silver coin per wagon per day, which August calculated would total 28 local silver coins for their planned four-day stay. After conducting a thorough inspection of their wagons' overall structural integrity—which revealed no problems or concerns whatsoever—they were confident that the vehicles would remain secure throughout their stay.
However, to ensure absolute certainty regarding their wagons' condition, August approached Baron Berkinsil with a specific request. "Excuse me, sir, but do you happen to have a wagon specialist available in the village? I would very much appreciate having an expert examine our vehicles to provide a professional assessment of their condition."
"Indeed we do, though I must inform you that we currently have only one such specialist available," the Baron replied thoughtfully.
"That would be perfectly adequate for our needs, sir. Would it be possible to arrange for him to examine our wagons? I simply require his expert opinion on their current state and any potential issues that might require attention."
"Certainly, Sir August. I shall arrange for him to attend to your requirements without delay," the Baron assured him. "However, I must now return to my estate, as there are several matters of considerable importance that require my immediate attention. Please, do not hesitate to visit my office if you or any of your people require further assistance during your stay."
With those words, Baron Todd Berkinsil took his leave and returned to his own estate, leaving August and his people to settle into their temporary accommodations.
August delegated to Andy and Marcus the task of inquiring at the inn about room availability, but they soon discovered that the establishment could accommodate only 50 people in its current operational state. The inn's staff had not anticipated receiving such a large group of travelers, creating an immediate logistical challenge.
August found himself in the position of having to prioritize room assignments, and he decided that married couples should receive preference. He recognized that adults required privacy for their intimate relationships, something that had been impossible to provide during their travels when space constraints had necessitated gender-based sleeping arrangements.
However, even this sensible prioritization system presented difficulties, as they had approximately 50 couples among their group—exactly double the inn's current capacity. The situation seemed problematic until the inn's owner informed them that a previously closed establishment of similar size and capacity was currently being cleaned and prepared for use and it was just across the current one. August's spirits lifted considerably at this news, as it meant that 100 of their 183 caravan members would have access to private rooms for the duration of their stay.
Each room was priced at 2 local silver coins per day, with meals included in the cost—a reasonable rate for the accommodations and services provided. For the four-day period and 50 rooms, August paid 4 local gold coins to secure the lodging.
For those who would need to wait for the second inn to be prepared, August organized temporary arrangements and informed them that they would need to be patient while the additional facilities were made ready. In the meantime, he encouraged the families to explore the village and visit the local market to experience what Berkinsil had to offer.
Demonstrating his characteristic generosity and concern for his people's welfare, August provided each family with 5 local gold coins as spending money for their stay. Although he was aware that they had received regular payments for their work and allowances since joining his employment, August never begrudged such expenses. The total expenditure of 75 local gold coins was distributed to the matriarchs of the 15 families, who would in turn distribute the funds among their family members as they saw fit.
With the families dispersed throughout the village to explore and enjoy a well-deserved period of leisure, those without family obligations—including August himself—remained with the wagons for their own discussions and planning. They would venture out for their own exploration of the village later, but for now, they needed to maintain security for their valuable cargo and equipment.
August's natural caution and protective instincts kept him vigilant, as they were in an unfamiliar place where unexpected situations could arise without warning. The wagons represented not only significant financial investment but also contained supplies and equipment essential for their continued journey.
Based on his observations, August estimated that the village housed approximately 5,000 to 6,000 residents within its protective walls. The average strength level of the guards appeared to be Category II - Advanced, with several Category III Experts among their ranks. This level of defensive capability seemed appropriate given the size of the settlement and the constant threats they faced from raiders and bandits operating in the surrounding territory.
The village's agricultural operations were contained entirely within the 10-kilometer-square area enclosed by the defensive walls, along with their own flowing water source. This self-sufficient arrangement provided security for their food production and water supply, eliminating the vulnerability that external resources would create.
One aspect of their entry process that August found particularly noteworthy was that the guards had permitted them passage despite his disclosure that their group included bonded beasts. This was somewhat unusual, as many settlements were more restrictive about allowing such creatures within their walls. The fact that their beasts had been allowed inside while still mounted suggested either unusual tolerance or specific circumstances that made such permissions more common.
Something about the situation felt unusual to August, though he couldn't quite identify the specific source of his unease. There were two distinct reasons why he had encouraged the families to explore the village independently: first, to provide them with an opportunity to enjoy themselves and strengthen family bonds after the rigors of travel, and second, to enable them to gather information about the settlement and its people through casual conversation and observation.
Perhaps these concerns could be addressed on another day, as their primary purpose for stopping was to rest and resupply. Of course, this would not be merely passive rest—they would need to remain alert and vigilant throughout their stay, as was their custom in unfamiliar territory.
The day progressed through its natural course as families gradually returned from their explorations to settle into their assigned rooms at the prepared inn. August shared his concerns with Axel Martin, the head of their group, and his brother Bjorn. After listening to his observations, they contributed their own impressions of the local people and the general atmosphere of the village.
Their consensus was that while the situation was simply odd rather than threatening, the local residents maintained a distinctly guarded demeanor. There was an underlying tension in the air that suggested recent troubles or ongoing concerns that affected the entire community.
Now it was August's turn, along with the others who had remained with the wagons, to venture out and experience what remained of the day. He needed to see the village for himself and hopefully identify the source of the subtle unease that continued to trouble him. Whatever was causing this feeling, he was determined to understand it before their stay concluded.
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[BANKING SYSTEM UPDATE:]
**Imperial Currency:**
- 34 Imperial Orichalcum Coins
- 1,530 Imperial Gold Coins
- 592 Imperial Silver Coins
- 225 Imperial Copper Coins
**Local Currency:**
- 5,959 Local Gold Coins (-80)
- 486 Local Silver Coins (-26)
- 153 Local Copper Coins (-80)
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Day 16.1: Berkinsil Village (II) - Whispers of Change
The following morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets of Berkinsil as August made his rounds, seeking answers to questions that gnawed at his mind like persistent thorns. It had been a full day since their caravan had entered this peculiar village, and with each passing hour, the sense of unease had only deepened.
He had spent the better part of the morning moving through their camp in deliberate circles, approaching each member of their traveling party with carefully worded inquiries about their impressions of the village. The responses he received painted a disturbing pattern of consistency—though the villagers had indeed treated them with courtesy and hospitality, there was an undercurrent of tension that ran beneath every interaction like a hidden river of fear.
The merchants spoke of conversations that ended abruptly when certain topics arose. The craftsmen mentioned how questions about the village's history were met with nervous glances and hurried excuses. Even the children in their group had noticed how the local youngsters would scatter whenever they approached, as if warned away by invisible guardians.
But it was more than mere evasiveness that troubled August. There was something in the eyes of the villagers—a haunted quality that spoke of secrets buried deep and wounds that had never properly healed. He had caught glimpses of it in unguarded moments: the way a baker's smile would falter when she thought no one was looking, or how the blacksmith's hands would tremble slightly when asked about the iron shortage that seemed to plague the region.
Most unsettling of all was the constant sensation of being watched. It wasn't the open curiosity that travelers typically encountered in remote settlements, but something far more predatory. August had developed keen instincts during his adventures, and those instincts now screamed warnings with every step he took through the village streets. Eyes tracked their movements from darkened windows and shadowed doorways—not with the innocent interest of isolated villagers meeting outsiders, but with the calculating patience of hunters evaluating their prey.
The metaphor felt all too apt. There was something about the quality of those hidden gazes that reminded August of a great cat stalking through tall grass, waiting for the perfect moment when weakness would reveal itself. The thought sent an involuntary shiver down his spine, despite the warmth of the afternoon sun.
Having confirmed his suspicions through these careful inquiries, August found himself facing a dilemma that had been growing in his mind since their arrival. They were scheduled to depart after their fourth day in Berkinsil—still two full days away. The question that weighed heavily on his conscience was whether they should investigate further into the village's mysteries or simply mind their own business and leave as planned.
The responsible part of him argued for caution. They were travelers passing through, not heroes seeking adventure. Whatever darkness lurked in Berkinsil's shadows was not their concern, and poking into local affairs could bring unwanted trouble upon their entire caravan. But another part of him—the part that had been shaped by years of facing injustice and protecting the innocent—whispered that turning a blind eye to obvious suffering was its own form of moral failure.
Knowing he needed counsel from someone with greater wisdom and experience, August sought out Master Ben Flameswrath's counsel. He found the elderly wizard in the small clearing where their caravan had made camp, surrounded by a delighted group of children from their traveling party. The old man was demonstrating small tricks with fire magic—tiny flames that danced between his fingers and sparkled like captured stars, much to the youngsters' amazement.
The sight brought a genuine smile to August's face, momentarily pushing aside his concerns. Master Flameswrath had always possessed a remarkable gift for bringing joy to others, despite the immense power that coursed through his veins. Watching him now, carefully controlling his magic to create wonder rather than fear, August was reminded once again why he held the old wizard in such high regard.
"Master Ben," August called out as he approached, his tone respectful but tinged with urgency. "May I confer with you about a concern of mine? I would greatly value your thoughts on a rather pressing matter."
The wizard's eyes twinkled with good humor as he dismissed the dancing flames with a gentle gesture, earning disappointed sighs from his young audience. "Ho ho ho, to be relied upon already by such a capable young man," he chuckled warmly, his voice carrying the rich timbre of someone who had seen much of the world and found it still full of wonders. "Please, go on, young August. Speak your mind freely—you know I'm always ready to listen."
August took a moment to gather his thoughts, wanting to present his concerns as clearly and logically as possible. The late afternoon breeze stirred the leaves of the nearby trees, creating a rustling symphony that seemed to underscore the gravity of their conversation.
"Master Ben, there's something fundamentally wrong with this village," he began, his voice low enough to avoid being overheard by curious ears. "I can't quite pinpoint exactly what it is, and I understand that it's not necessarily our place to involve ourselves in local affairs. But I find myself unable to dismiss what I'm seeing and feeling here."
He paused, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to articulate the complex emotions that had been building within him. "The villagers are deeply wary of us, as if they're desperately trying to hide something that must never be discovered. Yet at the same time, there's something else in their behavior—a contradiction that disturbs me greatly."
Master Flameswrath nodded thoughtfully, his ancient eyes studying August's face with the intensity of someone who had learned to read the deeper currents of human nature. "Continue, my boy. I can see this weighs heavily on your mind."
"Behind the careful guard they maintain, behind all their evasions and nervous glances, I see something else entirely," August continued, his voice growing more passionate as he gave voice to his observations. "There's a desperation there, Master Ben. Pain and agony that they're trying to hide, yes, but also—" He struggled for the right words. "It's as if they're silently screaming for help. As if part of them hopes we might be the answer to prayers they dare not speak aloud."
A profound silence settled between them as the wizard absorbed these words. When Master Flameswrath finally spoke, his voice had taken on a more serious tone, though it retained its characteristic warmth.
"Ho ho ho, indeed, young August. Your instincts serve you well—there is most certainly something here that demands our attention and, quite possibly, our intervention."
As he spoke these words, something remarkable began to happen. Master Flameswrath's eyes began to glow with an inner fire that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of a great heartbeat. To August, standing before him, the wizard appeared unchanged—still the kindly old man he had always known. But in reality, Ben Flameswrath was extending his consciousness far beyond the confines of his physical form.
The wizard's true power lay not just in his ability to command flame and fire, but in his deep connection to the elemental forces that flowed beneath the surface of the world. Now, he sent his awareness flowing through the network of molten rock that lay deep beneath Berkinsil's foundations, commanding the very magma to bend to his will and serve as his eyes and ears throughout the village.
Like tendrils of liquid fire moving through stone, his magical senses spread outward and upward, touching every flame and ember within the settlement's boundaries. Every hearth fire, every torch, every candle became an extension of his perception, allowing him to see and hear things that would otherwise remain hidden.
The information that flowed back to him through these connections painted a disturbing picture. Through the flickering flame of a candle in a modest home, he overheard a conversation that sent chills down his metaphysical spine.
Two women were speaking in hushed, fearful tones, their words carefully chosen to avoid attracting unwanted attention. The first woman, her voice tight with barely controlled anxiety, was saying, "They seem very wealthy, don't they? Those travelers with their fine clothes and impressive wagons—could they have come from the Capital itself?"
Her companion nodded nervously, glancing around as if expecting listeners to emerge from the shadows. "Most certainly they have money to burn. Can't you see the quality of their garments? Those massive wagons must have cost a fortune, and the way they spend their coins without a second thought—these are people of considerable means."
The first woman leaned closer, lowering her voice even further. "They don't seem like bad people, though that's what troubles me most. I wonder how they managed to travel this far when everyone knows the roads are crawling with bandits. Most merchants don't make it within fifty miles of here."
"I've been wondering the same thing," the second woman replied, her voice growing even more strained. "But what worries me more is what will happen when they find out we've been sheltering wealthy travelers. I doubt those bastards will let this slide if word reaches them that we've been harboring people here. What could Lord Todd possibly be thinking, allowing them to stay here?"
The first woman's face went pale, and she quickly reached out to cover her companion's mouth with a trembling hand. "For the love of all that's holy, keep your voice down! You're going to get us both killed if the wrong ears hear you speaking about you-know-who. But you're right about one thing—we haven't been raided in quite some time, not since our lord bowed his head to that woman."
"Aye," came the muffled response as the hand was gently moved away. "And though we have to pay that monthly tribute to her, at least the massacres have stopped. Though I still wake up at night thinking about what happened to poor Nellie's two children, and all the others they took. Thank the gods I have no little ones yet, or I'd go mad with worry."
The second woman's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "What do you think they're doing with all those children they've taken? I heard from one of the few who managed to escape that hellish place that they might be selling organs, or worse..."
It was at that moment that a sound echoed through the hallway—a sound that sent both women scurrying away in terror, leaving the candle to flicker alone in the empty room.
Master Flameswrath's consciousness snapped back to his physical form like a rubber band released from tension. The glow faded from his eyes as he returned fully to the present moment, though the weight of what he had learned hung heavy in the air between him and August.
"There is indeed something sinister occurring here," the wizard said gravely, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by steel-hard determination. "And I fear we may already be caught in the middle of it, whether we choose to be or not. Young August, we must inform the rest of our group tonight when we gather at camp. I will reveal what I have learned, and together we must decide how to proceed."
August nodded solemnly, feeling the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. Whatever they discovered in the hours to come would likely change the course of their journey—and possibly their lives.
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Later that evening, as the three moons began their nightly dance across the star-scattered sky, the patriarchs of each family within their caravan gathered around the central fire. The flames cast dancing shadows across weathered faces as August and his core group of companions joined the circle. The air was thick with anticipation and unspoken concerns.
Master Ben Flameswrath rose to address the assembled group, his aged frame somehow seeming more imposing in the firelight. The wizard's voice carried clearly across the camp as he began to share the disturbing intelligence he had gathered.
"My friends," he began, his tone grave but steady, "before this evening arrived, young August approached me with concerns about the nature of this village and its people. As you have all no doubt observed, Berkinsil is far from an ordinary settlement. The behavior of its residents, their carefully guarded responses to our questions, and the palpable atmosphere of fear that permeates this place all point to something deeply troubling."
He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "Using the gifts that have been given to me, I extended my awareness throughout this village, listening through the flames that light their homes and streets. What I discovered confirms our worst suspicions and reveals horrors that demand our immediate attention."
The wizard's eyes reflected the dancing flames as he recounted the conversation he had overheard. "I listened to the words of two village women, spoken in hushed terror behind closed doors. They spoke of a force—some manner of evil organization—that has been systematically raiding this settlement and taking its young people, particularly children. It appears that Mayor Todd Berkinsil has been forced to make terrible concessions to these malevolent forces, essentially surrendering portions of his authority to protect what remains of his people."
A collective intake of breath swept through the gathering as the implications of these words began to sink in. Several of the patriarchs exchanged worried glances, while others leaned forward intently, hanging on every word.
"The fate of these stolen children remains unclear," Master Flameswrath continued, his voice heavy with sorrow. "The women spoke of ritualistic sacrifice, though the exact nature of these rituals is unknown to me. What is certain is that we are not merely dealing with common bandits or raiders, but with practitioners of the darkest arts—those who traffic in human misery for purposes too terrible to contemplate."
He gestured toward August, indicating that the younger man should take over the discussion. "Now, I must emphasize that while I have little doubt about our collective ability to face whatever challenges may arise, we must proceed with the utmost caution. The decision of whether to involve ourselves in this matter will affect not just our small group, but every soul in this caravan."
August rose to his feet, feeling the weight of dozens of eyes upon him. The responsibility of leadership had never felt heavier than it did in this moment, with the lives of so many good people hanging in the balance.
"My friends," he began, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his heart, "Master Ben has shared with us intelligence that confirms our worst fears about this place. We now face a choice that will define not only the remainder of our stay here, but quite possibly our consciences for years to come."
He looked around the circle, meeting the eyes of each patriarch and member of his core group. "The question before us is simple in its asking but complex in its implications: should we intervene in this situation during the two remaining days of our stay, or should we consider what we have learned tonight as merely whispers on the wind—acknowledged but not acted upon?"
The gravity of the moment settled over the group like a heavy blanket. August continued, "If we choose to help these people, we must understand that we will be placing our entire caravan in a precarious and potentially dangerous situation. We will be facing unknown enemies with unknown capabilities, and the consequences of failure could be catastrophic."
He paused, allowing the weight of these words to register fully. "However, if we choose not to act, we must live with the knowledge that we had the power to help innocent people—including children—and instead chose to protect our own interests. I will not judge anyone for either choice, but I believe we must make this decision together, as a community."
The murmur of quiet conversation began to ripple through the gathering as people turned to discuss the matter with their fellow migrants. August could see the internal struggle playing out face after face—the desire to help warring with the natural instinct to protect their own families.
After several minutes of discussion, August called for attention once more. "We will now vote on this matter," he announced. "Those in favor of intervention, please raise your hands."
The response was not immediate. Hands rose slowly, tentatively at first, then with growing conviction as people saw others making the same choice. August counted carefully: Erik, Bren, Betty, Angeline, Isabel, Adam, Andy, Sibus, Michelle, Marcus, and Master Flameswrath from his core group, along with five of the fifteen patriarchs.
"A total of sixteen in favor," August announced. "Those opposed?"
Five hands rose, their owners looking somewhat apologetic but resolute in their decision.
"Five opposed. And those who abstain?"
The remaining hands rose slowly—five individuals who found themselves unable to choose either path with certainty.
"Very well," August said, his voice carrying a note of finality. "The decision has been made with the majority in favor of intervention. We will intervene." He looked around the circle one final time. "I want everyone to understand that this vote represents not just a decision, but a commitment. We are now bound together in this endeavor, and we will support each other regardless of what comes."
The gathering began to disperse, but August held up a hand to prevent their departure. "Before you go to rest, there are preparations to be made. Tonight, I intend to visit Baron Berkinsil's estate to confront him directly about these matters. While I am gone, I want everyone armed and ready to protect our people. Tomorrow, we will need a small contingent prepared for whatever operations this situation may require."
As the meeting dissolved and people began making their way back to their respective areas of the camp and the inn, August felt a mixture of pride and apprehension. They had chosen the harder path—the right path, he believed—but that did not make the road ahead any less treacherous.
---
The deepest part of the night had settled over Berkinsil like a suffocating blanket when August donned his full set of armor and weapons. The familiar weight of his gear brought a sense of comfort and readiness as he prepared to assume his alternate identity. When he pulled the distinctive mask over his features, August the traveling merchant ceased to exist, replaced by the figure that had struck fear into the hearts of wrongdoers across the realm—the Blurred Devil.
Moving with the fluid grace of a predator born to the shadows, he began his infiltration of the Baron's estate. The mansion loomed against the star-filled sky like a great beast crouched in slumber, its darkened windows staring blindly out at the sleeping village below.
But even before he had crossed half the distance to the imposing structure, August's enhanced senses began screaming warnings. The very air around the estate felt thick and oppressive, heavy with the unmistakable stench of death and decay. It was not the clean scent of natural mortality, but something far more sinister—the cloying sweetness of corruption that spoke of unnatural practices and violated sanctity.
Despite this ominous atmosphere, August's supernatural perception detected no significant threats within the building itself. The guards patrolling the perimeter were mundane enough, following predictable routes with the mechanical precision of men performing a familiar duty. Their presence suggested that whatever secrets the estate held, they were considered valuable enough to warrant protection, but not so dangerous as to require extraordinary measures.
Using his considerable skills in stealth and infiltration, August made his way from rooftop to rooftop through the village, approaching the estate from an angle that would minimize his exposure to the patrolling sentries. He found an excellent vantage point on a tall building that overlooked both the estate and much of the surrounding village, allowing him to observe the patterns of movement below while remaining safely concealed in the shadows.
He was not working alone in this endeavor. Through their party's communication system—a magical network that allowed for silent coordination across particular distances—he had arranged for Bren to maintain aerial surveillance while Master Flameswrath would monitor the situation through his connection to the various flames throughout the settlement.
When August finally made his entry through a second-story window, he was surprised to discover that the master's bedroom was empty. Not just unoccupied—completely abandoned, as if its inhabitant had departed some time ago and had no intention of returning soon. This discovery raised immediate questions about the Baron's whereabouts and added another layer of mystery to an already complex situation.
Moving through the mansion like a ghost, August conducted a systematic search of the entire structure. The second floor proved to be entirely vacant, which was unusual for a residence of this size and apparent importance. Working his way down to the ground level, he found the same pattern repeated—large, well-appointed rooms standing empty and silent, gathering dust in the absence of their intended occupants.
The contradiction was stark and puzzling. Here was a grand estate, clearly the seat of local power and authority, yet it stood abandoned like some haunted monument to departed glory. Only the master bedroom showed signs of recent habitation, and even that seemed sporadic at best.
Most disturbing of all was the continued absence of any human presence within the building's walls. While guards patrolled the exterior grounds with military precision, the interior of the mansion was as lifeless as a tomb. This raised the unsettling question of what, exactly, these guards were protecting if not the people within.
Needing additional intelligence, August activated his communication system to contact Bren.
[August: Bren, are there any changes in the movement patterns outside? The interior of this place is completely empty—not a single soul to be found.
Bren (typing): Gus, the guards are maintaining their predetermined patrol routes. Nothing unusual from my perspective.
August (typing): Thanks. Can you ask Master Ben if he's noticed any changes on his end? Also tell him that I cannot sense a single living soul inside this mansion—it's like a beautiful shell with nothing inside.
Bren: Will do.]**
While waiting for a response, August continued his methodical exploration of the building, checking every room, every closet, every possible hiding place. He opened drawers and searched through pantries, looking for any clue that might explain the mystery of the missing Baron and the purpose of this elaborate charade.
What he found only deepened the puzzle. Much of the mansion showed clear signs of long disuse—dust coating surfaces, cobwebs gathering in corners, the stale air of spaces that had been sealed away from the world. Only the master bedroom maintained the appearance of regular occupancy, and even that seemed more like a stage set than a genuine living space.
Frustrated by his lack of progress and needing fresh air to clear his thoughts, August made his way back outside. He positioned himself on the mansion's roof, where he could breathe freely while maintaining his surveillance of the surrounding area.
Looking up at the night sky, he found himself momentarily distracted by the celestial beauty above. The three moons of their world—Thea, Arley, and Lunark—hung in perfect alignment, casting their combined light across the landscape below. Known as the Three Sisters Treasures of the Night, they had inspired countless songs and stories throughout history, and their ethereal beauty never failed to stir something deep in August's soul.
"Ever graceful and beautiful," he murmured to himself, taking a brief moment to appreciate the wonder of creation even in the midst of his dark mission. It had been too long since he had taken time to simply observe the natural majesty that surrounded them all.
His peaceful contemplation was shattered when Bren's urgent communication brought him back to the harsh realities of their situation.
[Bren: Gus, there's something happening inside that house according to Master Ben. He says you need to be extremely careful—there's an evil type of magic at work there, almost like dark magic. It's not overwhelmingly powerful, but it's everywhere, permeating the entire structure.
August: Understood. Thanks for the warning, Bren.]
It was at that precise moment that the world around August began to change in ways that defied natural explanation. The very shadows cast by the moonlight began to writhe and move with malevolent purpose, as if they had been given independent life and hostile intent. The air itself seemed to thicken and darken, taking on an almost tangible quality that pressed against August's skin like invisible hands.
An aura of pure evil began seeping out from the Baron's mansion, rising from unknown sources like a tide of corruption that threatened to drown everything in its path. The sensation was overwhelming—a combination of supernatural dread and physical revulsion that made August's skin crawl and his stomach turn.
"What in all the hells was that?!" August exclaimed, his carefully maintained composure cracking in the face of such blatant supernatural malevolence. Every instinct he possessed screamed at him to flee this place immediately, to put as much distance as possible between himself and whatever dark force was awakening within those walls.
Without hesitation, August activated his communication system one final time.
[Bren: Gus! Master Ben is asking if you're alright. He says something major just happened—he can feel it through every flame in the village.
August: I'm alive and unaffected. I'm returning to camp immediately. Whatever's in that place, it's far beyond anything we anticipated.]
The journey back to their camp seemed to take an eternity, though August knew it was only a matter of minutes. Every shadow seemed to reach for him with grasping fingers, every sound carried the potential threat of pursuit. When he finally reached the familiar perimeter of their temporary settlement, he expected to find his companions sleeping peacefully, unaware of the supernatural drama that had just unfolded.
Instead, he discovered a scene of organized chaos that made his blood run cold.
"What's happening?" he called out, seeing that everyone in the camp was awake, armed, and arranged in what appeared to be defensive positions.
Erik pointed toward a dark alley that led into the village proper, his face grim with barely controlled fear. "Look there," he said simply.
As August followed his friend's gesture, movement began to emerge from the darkness—movement that no living thing should possess. Master Ben Flameswrath, recognizing the immediate threat, raised his staff and conjured a miniature sun that blazed with brilliant light, driving back the shadows and revealing the true horror of what approached their camp.
The creatures that shambled forward were abominations that defied both nature and sanity. Bodies of mangled corpses moved with unnatural purpose, some bearing grotesque disfigurements that spoke of deliberate mutilation. Missing limbs had been replaced with appendages that clearly belonged to other victims, creating chimeric horrors that seemed designed to inspire maximum revulsion and terror.
One particularly disturbing specimen bore the head of some unknown beast grafted onto what had once been a human torso. Others showed signs of having been torn apart and reassembled according to some mad design that prioritized psychological impact over functional anatomy.
August's voice rang out across the camp with the authority of a seasoned commander. "Form defensive ranks! Protect the non-combatants! Everyone to your assigned positions!"
Master Flameswrath's ancient eyes narrowed as he recognized the nature of their enemies. "These are the products of dark sorcery," he announced grimly. "Cultists and necromancers who have made pacts with demonic forces. They have finally revealed themselves—the enemies that have been lurking in this village's shadows like parasites feeding on fear and despair."
His voice carried clearly across the camp as he continued his warning. "Be extremely careful, and do not venture beyond the light of my conjured sun. These creatures draw their power from darkness itself, and they will be strongest in the shadows between the light."