Fifty Two
Gladius and Fletcher, Sentinel Hill, The Golden Fields
They approached what used to be a ranch encircling a single stone tower. They approached a wooden palisade spattered with blood.
Small pockets of lingering purple fire betrayed the nature of the attack.
The Demonic Legion here?
A yellow banner with a black scythe and sword, the banner of the Crop Guard was planted firmly in the soil.
Gladius had seen enough battle to know a battlefield when he saw one. Despite the bodies of legion forces being burned and the bodies of Crop Guards being respectfully buried there was a lot of bloodshed on this soil.
"Well met, travelers. Do you seek refuge?" Two Crop Guards wearing chainmail and tunics inquired as they leaned on their halberds at the gateway.
"We're here to see your Militia Captain," Gladius announced as he and Fletcher dismounted.
With their horses stabled for them by the helpful community volunteers, Gladius and Fletcher were pointed in the direction of the central tower.
Broken Moonsworn-designed mangonels and catapults lay strewn around, it appears the Crop Guard were well equipped.
Two Ileuadi dressed in Crop Guard tunics were busy with hammers repairing the defensive weapons.
"Greetings Knights!" one of them called over as the heroes passed.
Gladius did the sweeping hand gesture salute he learned from Geally.
The engineer nodded and smiled, then returned to his labor.
Two exhausted gravediggers were just finishing working on the grave mounds of Crop Guard soldiers.
In place of a headstone, the burials had a farm tool with a wreathe of flowers around it.
The heroes stopped for a moment to pay their respects.
One of the graves was different, with a tree planted over it. It was a Moonsworn grave, in their funerary custom.
Nearby laborers were clearing debris from the former ranch land and replanting fallen Crop Guard banners.
Howls of pain came from white triage tents nearby.
Healers darted in and out of the pavilions busy with medical aid, amputations, stitching wounds, bandaging injuries and unfortunately performing last rites.
The knights finally scaled the small mound to reach the central tower, pushing their way past a dozen weary and battered Crop Guards.
"It's like a full-scale war is going on around here," Fletcher whispered. "Why didn't Myst City know about this?"
Gladius was thinking the same thing.
Eventually as they progressed into the shallow opening on the old stone tower, they met the Militia Captain himself.
Renault, though years older and grayer was familiar to Gladius immediately, despite wearing his Crop Guard armor and colors.
"Brother, long time no see," Gladius extended his hand for a hearty handshake.
Renault was elated to see his old peer. "Gladius and the new guy, uh..."
"Fletcher," the knight grunted as he lit up his pipe.
Renault greeted Gladius warmly. "If you are here to assist then we welcome the help."
Gladius sighed. "Unfortunately, we are on a quest to rally forces to defend Myst City from an impending invasion from The Demonic Legion," he explained, weary from the journey.
Renault understood putting the mission first over sentiment. "The Demonic Legion has been hounding The Golden Fields too. Belial is leading the charge, him and his damn blight."
He explained the diseased creatures and soldiers attacking their ranks to wither away their defenses.
"Bloody things called Poxhounds. Ferocious and carrying a horrifying sickness called 'the blight'"
Renault motioned to a back room. "See for yourself, but keep your distance."
Behind the curtain in an emptied storage cupboard a strange, nauseating beast was dead on the floor. It was much like a hellhound, but brownish-green and ragged, missing teeth and one eye. It looked like a particularly rotted corpse.
Plague doctors in beaked masks and protective leathers were poking at it with iron rods curiously.
Renault coughed. "Stop playing with the damn thing and tell us how to stop it," the Militia Captain barked.
One of the plague doctors approached and introduced himself as Omar. "They seem to taint their victims with their bites or vapors, and we know what happens after that," he eluded as he motioned towards a greenish-gray dead Crop Guard.
Renault approached the fallen soldier keeping at a safe distance. "Corporal Tiller, one of our youngest recruits was bitten in the most recent battle."
Fletcher glanced at the body curiously, the body looked and smelled like it had been rotting for weeks. "How long ago did he die?" he inquired.
"Just a day ago," Jabir explained.
Gladius' eyes perked up. "This man died yesterday?"
Renault nodded grimly. "And he was one of the luckier ones."
You call this lucky? Gladius thought.
Renault explained that even contact with the beasts causes an illness. Hallucinations, madness and suicide being the end result.
Gladius and Fletcher had decided to call Astralode, thinking perhaps the Chronicler had witnessed this before.
Fletcher went to fetch the scrying orb from his saddlebag to contact Astralode, trying not to think about the poor unfortunate victims of this blight.
Gladius leaned closer to Renault. "So, what's the plan?"
Renault led him back to the entrance. "Belial is holed up in an old Twilight War era outpost in the hills. And we are preparing a counter-offensive."
Gladius gripped his sword tight, his mind filled with purpose. "Then we take the fight to him."