Darlac couldn't determine whether her would-be husband was a coward or simply an idiot. He knew very well that she was preparing an assault against the Valley of the Dead. So why had he hired out the bulk of the Host to three different countries? Had he been sleeping on her reports again? Or did he not take her seriously at all? Was this his way to sabotage what he thought to be a waste of time and resources? And why had he done all this behind her back, while she'd been away in the mountains, helping Baroness Guelder hunt down that Numerian slaver? That uplifting little adventure with her allies had cost her the chance to protect her homeland from the most serious threat it had ever faced. And now she found herself questioning her own decision to bind her life to a man who so casually annulled her efforts to defend his country.

  Also, distracted by the events of the hunt for the slaver, she'd forgotten to talk to Guelder about the cyclopean ring, all the time safely hidden in her backpack – an oversight that might well prove disastrous. Of course, Maegar had promised to send it over to Tuskdale by a courier, but Darlac had a feeling that two months later the ring would still be watching the everyday life of the court from the baron's desk.

  Once Darlac was out in the open, she was met by her honour guard: Tehara, Gekkor and the Bruiser. Velainah had not yet decided whether to accept her invitation to join permanently. Perhaps she was still shaken by the scorpion incident, or perhaps she saw through Darlac's feeble attempt to weaken Cephal's position by winning over his apprentice to her side, and maybe, just maybe, to use her later on to stab him in the back. Figuratively, of course. Anyway, Darlac was apparently terrible at court intrigue, unlike the wizard who slowly and surely pushed her into the background. Or was she just being paranoid, as Maegar tended to suggest with increasing frequency?

  Her squad fell into step with her. Sensing Tehara's questioning gaze on the back of her head, she produced the crumpled note from his pocket and tossed it at the tiefling. Only then did she realise that she hadn't even read it. She was starting to resemble the baron in the worst way. Not that it mattered. Any task would do, be it chasing jerboas, culling bulettes, finding the last centaurs, even cleaning latrines – indeed, any menial assignment, as long as it took her mind off of what had just happened. Also, she wanted to be away from the capital by the time her anger would inevitably evaporate. Let Maegar stew for a little longer. She would not provide him anytime soon with an opportunity to charm her with his sly smile and his touch electrifying all the nerves in her body.

  "Find Tomin Hanvaki of Gralton," muttered Tehara, reading the crumpled paper. "Mission from Baroness Guelder of Nightvale, currently hosting Edrist Hanvaki, the missing person's brother. Address report to Tirval Grey Heron, Warden of Security, and Felicia Darlac, General of the Varnling Host."

  Darlac swallowed a curse. She'd submitted this issue to the baron herself, soon after she'd returned from her joint operation with Guelder. Now she became her own questgiver. Perhaps she was indeed losing her mind.

  "Sh-sh-should be easy enough," remarked the Bruiser.

  They started their investigations at Tirval's place, who had a platter of biscuits and a pot of strong tea for them, as well as some information. Alas, this was not the time for Darlac to initiate a conversation between best friends and share her worries about her position, her dwindling responsibilities, her diminishing influence. Not after Tirval herself had become one of the beneficiaries of Darlac's perceived decline, being raised to an advisor's rank and made responsible for public safety. Darlac was happy for Tirval's promotion and welcomed the opportunity to work with her, but it would have felt so much better if whatever had been given to Tirval had not been taken from her. The untold concerns in her heart were growing into a wall between her and her old friend, leaving her lonely and isolated.

  Still, Darlac had to put her personal problems aside. She had a missing adventurer to find.

  Two months ago, Tomin Hanvaki and his companions had been caught red-handed by a road patrol while trying to break into an ancient tomb known as the Sepulchre of Forgotten Heroes, and dragged to Varnhold Town to receive their due punishment of twenty switches each. Then they'd been released in exchange for their solemn promise that they would not commit the same mistake again. After one week, Hanvaki had asked for the town guard's help with recovering his stolen horse, but after another week, he'd given it up and left the capital on foot towards the north, along with his friends, allegedly heading to Restov. He had not been seen ever since.

  The northern direction didn't make it easier for Darlac to figure out where Tomin had gone. He could have intended to turn west at the first occasion and make his way to the river Crooked, which constituted a natural border between Varnhold and Nightvale – or he could have gone east to continue his dungeon delving activity, this time with more luck than before. Darlac decided to investigate the western direction first, and made a mental note to consult the baron about rethinking the ban on dungeoneering. The centaurs were gone, and the Ancient Evil was awake. A new situation required a new approach.

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  If only he could find it in his heart to believe her and take her advice again.

  There were quite a few valleys, ravines and gulches to search through, with or without temporary watercourses, slicing through the mountains and leading towards the Crooked. Darlac and her squad spent two entire days out in the open without finding any clue – just enough time for her anger to subside, giving way to a dull ache she didn't allow herself to indulge in. A couple more days and she would be able to function properly. Then she would gather an adventuring team and brave the halls of.... whatever was in the deepest recesses of the Valley of the Dead. This time she wouldn't take Cephal or Velainah with her. Not after what the old wizard was doing in order to pull the rug from under her feet. With a heavy heart, she would leave Maegar behind as well. The land needed its ruler, and also, he would only slow her down with his bad knee. Willas Gunderson had done his part already, so Darlac had no reason to tolerate his presence in her squad any longer. Perhaps she would complete her honour guard with Faeli and Father Dalton... provided that she could convince the old half-elf to join her. However he tried to present himself as a peaceful stay-at-home cleric, he couldn't mislead Darlac's sharp recruiter eyes. She just had to give him a little nudge to heed the edict of his goddess and destroy some undead with her.

  She would show Maegar. She would save this country, regardless if he wanted her to or not. And then she would leave. Or so she told herself. Yesterday, the mere thought of it had hurt like a fresh wound exposed to the elements, with a liberating, rejuvenating kind of pain. Today, however, all it did was wake the evil little voice at the back of her mind mocking her, calling her a liar, whispering that she would never leave, not even if she lost everything that mattered.

  Then Gekkor discovered the trail of a cart, the forest soil ripped up by the wheels, and followed it into a shallow gulch leading westwards. It was there they found the rotting corpse of Tomin Hanvaki, nibbled by wildlife, his possessions of no particular value scattered around him in the dust. Despite its state of decomposition, it was easy to identify him by his black mop of curly hair and a letter stuck among the roots of a shrub nearby. It was from another Hanvaki of an earlier generation, also hunting for treasures in the region and probably claimed by a similar fate as Tomin.

  "Probably a matter of infighting," said Tehara. "His companions tossed him off the cart and legged it with the loot."

  "So sad," sighed Gekkor, shaking his head. "Human life is so fragile. A too well executed punch, a rock at the wrong place, and it's all over."

  "D-do we follow the tracks?" asked the Bruiser.

  "Why would we?" said Gekkor. "The trail has grown cold long ago. For all we know, the perpetrators might have already left Varnhold, and maybe even Nightvale."

  "And yet," said Darlac, "we'll follow their trail until it crosses the border. In case the baroness decides to do something about it, she must know where they entered Nightvale territory. Gekkor, please preserve the body as best you can."

  Once the cleric finished casting his spell, Darlac maneuvered the corpse into a bag, which, in turn, she stuffed into a Bag of Holding, along with the man's remaining personal belongings. Then they struck out on the trail.

  For what seemed to be hours, they followed the tracks westward along a seldom used logging path, until the stench hit their noses.

  The cart was lying on its side, the big marble sarcophagus that was its cargo toppled, its lid opened and broken in two. The pair of oxen hitched to the cart had largely been devoured by the forest fauna, along with the bodies of three adventurers scattered around it. A large swath of vegetation was crushed and trampled down around the sarcophagus, so conspicuously that even Darlac noticed.

  "Holy fringe," she muttered. "Looks like we have another zombie cyclops at large."

  "A-at least it's well-fed," remarked the Bruiser, pointing at the corpses. All the skulls had been cracked open, the brain material missing.

  "We'd better hunt it down before it pays a visit to the lumber camps."

  "I'm afraid it already did," said Tehara softly. "Just because nobody reported it, doesn't mean it didn't happen. Perhaps there were no survivors."

  Darlac was furious. With Tomin Hanvaki and his stupid hobby of grave-robbing, with the chaos in the government around the rearranged responsibilities, but most of all, with herself. How could she have let this happen? She couldn't blame Tirval. The Warden was new to her task, only just learning the ropes. It was the General who had been too obsessed with her large-scale operation in the Tors to notice what was going on under her nose. How many lives could her negligence have cost?

  "Lead us, Gekkor," she said. "We'll check on the loggers and warn them of the danger... if they're still alive."