Aibel | 2 Greentide, 1723 CE

It was a beautiful day, all things considered. The sun rays warmed the dirt below him, and seemed to absorb through the dark leather jacket that he wore. The cool breeze that settled in at mid-morning was enough to counteract the warming, leaving a pleasant spring temperature. 

Aibel walked along the rough path towards Mother Nanike’s orphanage. It led outside the main part of town, near the northern walls of Mistwick. The cobblestones this far outside the main townscape had been left unattended for so long that they had begun to sink into the dirt. Weeds sprouted from between gaps in the paving, and threatened to overtake the stone altogether. What may have originally looked like a paved roadway, now looked like an abandoned dirt path. Despite its condition, there was a surprising amount of two story homes and buildings stretched out on either side of the main walk.

The orphanage, however, resided up a small slope, the edges of which had been overtaken by berry bushes and wildflowers. The untamed brambles added an air of desertion to the orphanage, which looked to Aibel like a construction at risk of collapse. The building was quite large, but its size did not make up for the state of dilapidation that plagued large sections of the structure. It seemed that every other board on the road-facing wall was either heavily weathered or was at risk of splintering at the first good gust of wind that passed through. The roof appeared to sag in places. Wooden shingles looked faded and sunken in spots with water damage. The windows were probably the cleanest part of the building, almost immaculately clear, but starting to fade to tints of yellow in the corners.

The building was one sight, the mess of running and playing children was another. The softness and laughter was contrasted against the aging and unkempt dirt and patchy lawn out front of the orphanage. There weren’t many toys that he could see as he walked closer, but some of the boys had made due with using sticks as swords. They moved towards and away from one another, feigning a duel to the death in some fantastical imaginative adventure.

Aibel felt pity for the little ones. They would learn that their games were far too real as they grew up.

As he walked closer to the house, the children who noticed him, stopped their play, staring at his intimidating visage. In particular, he could hear the muffled whispers related to the large weapons he carried on this back. The harness he wore allowed him to carry both Cryptbane and his sword across his back. The hooks that held Cryptbane in place were easy to use, but they left the intricately decorated glaive on full display, creating a crossbones effect with the hilt of the sword. He knew he was a novelty to the children, compared to the poorly equipped guardsmen that patrolled the streets of Mistwick.

He found the matron of the house just off the main walk in the front of the building. Time had not been kind to her. Deep wrinkles cascaded down her forehead, and the sides of her mouth had begun to sag with age. Her body looked frail, but she moved with a practiced ease as she hung various garments over the clothesline. Beside her, a bucket of dirty water and a metallic washboard was ready for a stack of new clothing.

“Are you Mother Nanine?”

His voice visibly startled her, and she turned around, her hand over her chest as she regained her breath.

“I am. And you are?”

He didn’t respond, instead pulling the folded sheet of paper with the contract from the inside of his jacket. He unfolded it, and handed it over.

“I’m here about the children.”

There was a mixture of emotions that ran across mother Nanine’s face. The sigh that escaped her was one of relief, while her eyes held on to a skepticism that Aibel couldn’t quite place. He guessed that others had tried to take the contract and simply attempted to con the old woman out of the money, probably claiming something like “the trail ran cold,” without a shred of proof they had found the trail to begin with.

She finished clipping the clothing to the line, and gestured him inside.

“Please. Join me for some tea.”

The tea that she served him some minutes later was a bitter, herbal root flavor. She ripped her own cup, biting back a wince at the heat and aggressiveness of the blend.

“This doesn’t seem like a job worthy of someone of your stature. That equipment you're carrying doesn’t paint the picture of someone taking on simple contracts.”

“I’ve got my reasons.”

“Any of those reasons to tell me it’s a lost cause, or try to swindle me by insulting my intelligence?”

Aibel smirked and let out a small chuckle.

“No, Mother. The offer is legitimate. Now, tell me what you know. The more details you have, the better.”

She set the poorly formed ceramic cup on the table with a sliding thump. She leaned forward in her chair, almost on-edge with anticipation of Aibel’s service.

“It was about two weeks ago. Myself and a few of the smaller children were at the market near the east district. We were there a few hours, and everyone had been behaving, so I agreed to take them for a picnic on the hill just outside the gate,” she sighed, cursing herself at the thought.

“A few of the children decided to clobber one another with dirt clods, so I went to go deal with them. When I finished with them, I returned to my spot. One of the children was standing there, staring into the woods. I’ll never forget the look on his face. He told me that a monster with orange eyes and horns had spoken to him from the woods. I went to hold him, and he just started crying. He was so scared.”

The tears had begun to stream down Mother Nanine’s face as well. The droplets caught in the lines and folds of his skin, and cascaded almost like a waterfall.

“Take your time, Mother,” said Aibel. His voice was firm but unexpectant.

When she had collected herself a few moments later, she continued.

“Well, I decided I should take them back home. Sensible thing to do, right? The rest of the day went pretty normal. I put the children to bed, and retired for the evening myself. It was still dark when I woke up to a loud crashing noise downstairs.”

She pointed to a door frame and glassless window at the side of the kitchen. The door led to the back of the house, and the frame appeared to have been hastily repaired, recently. Missing splinters and uneven gouges in the wood suggested that the door had been taken off the frame violently and with great force.

“Of course, I went down stairs. And there were the children, standing in near perfect rows of two, shuffling out of the house. Before, I could scream at them to return to bed, I remember feeling a pain in the back of my head, and then nothing. One of the other children shook me awake the next morning.”

The tears started pouring out now.

“Do you have any enemies?”

“Enemies?

“Yes, people who may want to harm you, for any reason. Anyone that you owe money to? Anything like that?”

“No, master hunter. Nothing like that. Whatever we had is earned or donated. Nothing shady. I wouldn’t allow it!”

“I understand, Mother. I just needed to ask. With your permission, I’d like to take a look around the property. I’d also like to see the woodlands where you took your picnic. Can you show me where that was?”

Aibel produced a folded and discolored map, unfurling it to the local region, and set it on the table in front of her.

“Of course, look around at what you need.” She pointed to a spot on the map, just outside of town. “Here is where I took the children.”

Aibel stood, “Thank you, Mother. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Aren’t you going to ask about payment?”

“Do I need to? Your flier stated a modest sum. I trust you will pay a modest sum. We can settle up later.”

She began to protest, but he was already out the side door, breaching the still darkness of the kitchenette with sunlight. She did not follow him to continue her protest. Aibel searched the immediate vicinity of the house, but knew he would find no trace. The guardsmen who investigated, the fortnight of time between now and the incident, and the running of small children had trampled any evidence he may have found. The better bet, he knew, was the woods.

***

It was mid-afternoon when he reached the small hill just outside of town. The path rose easily into a small tangle of brush, tall grass, and woodlands, at the center of which was an open field. The view was inarguably stunning, just far enough from town to see it as depressingly beautiful in the daylight, and near enough that the rolling wheels of carts could be heard a small distance away on the main road.

The woods around Mistwick approached the grassy area abruptly, ending in a thick wall of green and brown. The grass gave way to thick underbrush and ferns that were almost entirely untamed. He could hear the cawing and mating calls of birds among the thick green evergreens and redwood trees.

He began the search at the edge of the woods. Cryptbane swept back and forth through the bushes, in wide gentle strokes. Aibel swept the ground with his eyes, looking for any disturbances in the soft dirt that was protected by the thick leaves. Any hunter worth his weight would know that the thick leaves of these woods would shield some remnant of footprints from the weather. He began combing the woods, in a sort of grid, taking stock of his scope by marking the edges of nearby trees with a knife.