Somewhere in the mountains of Varnhold, two pairs of heavy feet were trampling their way through last year's leaf mould towards a little watercourse at the bottom of a ravine. By their scent, it was a dwarf and a half-orc. Maestro Janush's goons were not stupid. They walked in pairs to watch each other's back. They knew they were hunted.

  Guelder observed them from above, lying prone on a thick branch of an ancient mountain ash, the bark smooth against her face. Behind her, a woodpecker clung to the tree trunk, ready for deployment and, more importantly, eager to learn. Pangur was hiding in the undergrowth by the stream, waiting for her orders.

  This part of the Varnhold forests was still untouched by lumberjacks, and Guelder could only hope this would remain so. Baron Varn liked his fortifications and watchtowers, which, sadly, needed wood. Also, as it turned out, Dri Stinvag and her mining enterprise were happily digging for iron in the Tors of Levenies. They had even donated a small pack of explosives for the purpose of the current joint operation. The moderate but ongoing environmental destruction in Varnhold could turn severe in a matter of years. Guelder couldn't do much about it, and Faeli, who was something like the baron's unofficial court druid, had a lot less influence than she should. Anyway, Guelder made a point of keeping in touch and share best practices with her colleague (for instance, tips for speedgrowing trees in exchange for rookery management know-how). This land was not hers to rule and protect, and in moments like this, brimming with birdsong and the scent of trees likely doomed to an early death, she found herself a little sorry for that.

  Otherwise, everything felt as it was meant to be. The forest was her home, even though this specific part belonged to another country. The two slavers, moving carefully and still so noisily among the trees, were her prey. Soon she would taste blood, as her pack would defend its threatened members.

  Not only had Maestro Janush been roaming around in Nightvale as well as in Varnhold, collecting slave material or hunting down fugitives, but he'd set up camp just across the Crooked, the river that constituted part of the border between Nightvale and Varnhold. Was this his plan to lure Regongar and Octavia away from Nightvale and cut them off of Guelder's protection? Or did he intend to spark enmities between the two countries, and use the turmoil to his own ends? Guelder was thankful to fate for having a treaty in place with Varnhold and a staunch supporter in the neighbouring barony's government. All she'd had to do was send a letter to Darlac by bird mail, and the General had shown up with a full squad, ready to aid the baroness in cleansing the land from the slavers' filth – even though, after the recent reorganisation of the Varnhold government, public safety didn't belong anymore to her scope of responsibilities.

  Anyway, now that the Maestro's two unfortunate mercenaries came in sight, it was time to rally the arthropods hidden under the fallen leaves, in the tree bark, amidst the roots. At her current proficiency level, Guelder could mobilise ten at a time, as a single mini-swarm. It was not much, so she had to select the type with the most powerful venom.

  As Guelder's mind reached out for the tiny creatures, nothing spectacular happened at first. It wasn't as if the dust of the ground came to life, swirling in a tornado of hungry pincers. Still, when the dwarf yelped and began randomly slapping at different spots of his body (mostly covered in armour, though), she knew she could leave the swarm alone to do its job.

  Her attention switched to the half-orc, marking him as her next target. Laying her hands on the tree bark, she sent an impulse of energy through the phloem, down to the roots, across the mycelial network, and gave a little nudge to the ubiquitous tendrils of ivy snaking about on the ground. It didn't need much persuasion to go on a growing spree and immobilise the target within moments, wrapping its vines snugly around his limbs and body. Guelder turned back her head and glanced at the woodpecker.

  "Now."

  Spreading her wings, the bird swooped down at the entangled half-orc, talons clinging to his face, and started hammering away at his temple, cracking the bone and boring a neat hole into his skull. When she was done, she changed position and sought out another weak spot for another hole, then another, until the mercenary's writhing, screaming body twitched its last, only held upright by the plant growth.

  Meanwhile, the dwarf was doing a grisly dance, first trying to get rid of the creepy crawlies under his clothing, then succumbing to the spasms induced by their venom. Guelder took pity on him and gave permission to Pangur to finish him off with a bite snapping his spine at the neck.

  She jumped off the branch, landing gracefully in a crouch, and waited for the woodpecker to become Faeli again.

  "That was... deeply unsettling to watch," she said. "It goes straight into Linzi's nightmare material collection. Well done, Faeli."

  The dark-skinned girl spat to the side, partly in contempt, partly to rid herself of the taste of blood and brains.

  "No mercy for slavers. Sorry, Your Grace. But that spider thing... that was amazing! How did you do that?"

  "Actually, this time it was centipedes. The secret is practice, practice, and more practice. I am still at the start of the journey, but I hope to get into it more. Arthropods are a formidable weapon in the right hands."

  "I bet they are," said Faeli, shuddering. "And now what? Do we cover up the deed or let the Maestro find the bodies?"

  "Let us cover it up. He must have heard the screams. Let him wonder what befell his men, and tremble in fear of Nature's wrath."

  All they had to do was dig a shallow grave, bury the corpses, and speedgrow a tree on top, which was also a great occasion for Faeli to practise. Perhaps one day there would be no more need for clearcutting in the mountains.

  Over the last few days, the joint forces of Nightvale and Varnhold (which meant two teams of six, led by Guelder and Darlac, respectively) had considerably whittled down the slavers' numbers. The hunt took the shape of a morbid game, making Darlac so uneasy that she even voiced her concerns to Guelder. Of course, being a paladin, she preferred her kills to be quick, clean and merciful. Still, not even the misgivings of a beloved friend and ally could dissuade the baroness from her course of action. She'd heard enough stories from Regongar and Octavia, she'd seen enough of their scars, physical and mental, to be certain that Maestro Janush had to die, and before he did, he had to suffer.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  The forest was a dangerous place for those unfamiliar with its ways. Over the past few days, one of the slavers had been intercepted by a bear during a foraging mission and fallen to his death while fleeing down the slope. Two had been mangled by a leopard and a wolf, so thoroughly that the wounds left by arrows on their bodies couldn't be recognised anymore. Another slaver's neck had been snapped by someone big and strong, and his corpse moved to a forked branch, high up in the canopy, by what must have been several conjured Mage Hands working together. Yet another had been disemboweled by a raging elk bull. Two had been burnt to charcoal when the campfire they'd started got out of control, almost as if hit by a Fireball. And four had been taken out by Darlac and her squad in open combat when they'd found and attacked her makeshift outpost. (As to Guelder's camp, thanks to her two rangers' camouflage expertise, there was no chance for it to be found.) Even some of the recaptured fugitive slaves, being herded towards the Maestro's cave, had been freed and escorted safely to Varnhold Town, where they would be granted a place to settle down and make themselves useful.

  Maestro Janush was sure to have nightmares by now. And if not, Linzi was there to help.

  The idea had come from Octavia's wondrous anti-nightmare tea blend, so beneficial for herself and Harrim, and so utterly useless for Guelder. The baroness had spent an evening holding Octavia's hand at the Beer Mug Inn until she'd recounted her most terrible nightmares to Linzi, who'd jotted down all of them, preparing for a series of devastating mental attacks. Guelder had been happy to add some of her own dream experiences to help build the raw material provided by Octavia into veritable nightmares. The only thing they needed to make the intrusion on the Maestro's mind easier was an item that provided some connection to him. A part of his body, a picture of his face, or something in his possession... The fact that Regongar and Octavia had been the Maestro's possessions for far too long now played into their hands. The couple took turns standing guard next to Linzi while she was spending long hours in a trance, waiting for her victim to fall asleep, so she could project the horrors into his mind, depriving him from restful sleep and spell regeneration.

  Based on Hazel's estimates, with the last two kills, not more than six or seven slavers remained, including Maestro Janush himself. Once Linzi was done with her last nightmare attack, Guelder would make her move.

  That time came at dawnbreak.

  "Can we go now and beat the living shit out of him?" asked Regongar already the third time, his cockiness seeming a bit forced.

  "Soon," said Guelder. "But not until I hear back from Darlac."

  A few minutes later, Pangur emerged from the undergrowth, carrying a scroll case between his jaws. The message only said: Ready when you are. F. D.

  The baroness gathered the team and started to cast her spells of elemental protection. According to Reg and Via, Maestro Janush was a big fan of fire spells, but it was best to prepare for other types of elemental damage as well.

  Linzi didn't make the slightest effort to stifle a big yawn. Her nightmare ritual, hitherto only used to non-consensually share her new poems with her peers, would be the key to Guelder's success, but the little bard paid a heavy price for that in sleep deprivation. The baroness was ready to grant her an entire week to sleep at her leisure, once the slavers were taken care of.

  Until then, perhaps a few words of exhortation would wake her up.

  "The time to strike has come. Be prepared for anything, keep your eyes peeled for unexpected dangers, and remember who and what we are fighting for. Not only the safety of our two friends and companions, but also freedom, the fundamental value of our barony and the birthright of every sentient being. We shall not let the slavers ruin more lives. None shall escape. And now make sure to keep your enthusiasm quiet, pent up inside your chests, and transform it into attack power when the time comes."

  Her companions took the hint and didn't break out in loud cheering. Only their body language showed their determination.

  Not that they could remain entirely serious, though.

  "Oh damn," muttered Regongar under his breath. "We won't meet the Varnlings before entering the cave, right? Then I won't be able to pop my favourite line."

  "You mean the one about kissing Darlac unconscious if we pull this off?" asked Octavia, giggling.

  "Yeah, that."

  "Nevermind. Just do it without the line. And once she is unconscious, it will be my turn to kiss her awake."

  "Careful," said Hazel with a smirk. "I understand she killed a dragon for less."

  "Hah!" Regongar cracked his knuckles. "Twenty gold pieces say I'll bed her before the year goes out."

  "Say goodbye to your gold, Reg," piped Linzi. "She is with Baron Varn, and they're the second loveliest couple I've ever seen."

  "Okay, shortie! Fifty gold pieces say I'll bed her and the baron within the same deadline."

  Linzi pinched her chin between her fingers, making a quick calculation.

  "That's seventy gold pieces for me if you fail on both accounts, right? You're on, tusky boy. I'm going to be RICH!"

  "Would you all mind showing a little maturity, before I start to recruit cockchafers?" snapped Guelder, suddenly reminded why she adventured with the fugitive couple so rarely. This kind of talk about her allies rubbed her the wrong way. "Stay focused. Keep your minds on the task ahead, not in your underwear. Also, Octavia, if you feel the need to giggle, you have one minute to sort it out. I will not have you blow our stealth, like you did last time."

  "Thanks, Your Grace, I'm good," said Octavia with an ear-to-ear grin. "Let's get on with this."

  "All right, then. Hazel, give the first signal. Forward!"

  The ranger distanced themself a little from the camp, and sounded an entirely credible owl call. The answer immediately arrived. Darlac was setting out to secure the back entrance of the Maestro's cave.

  The trap was sprung.