Winter was holding on this year.

  Fresh snowstorms covered the area. February was almost over, and it looked like spring would not be appearing until mid to late March.

  It was during a gap in these storms that Senior Jacob and Eleanor appeared at my gates. Both were wrapped up tightly against the weather, as a strong wind blew off the mountains.

  The medallion caused both groups a great deal of consternation, it seems.

  "They are called the Order of St Marcus." Senior Jacob was telling me. "They are ancient orders tied to the Templars originally, but branched off before the church turned against the Knights. They are dedicated to rooting out the supernatural from the world and destroying it. Predominantly, they are Catholic, but the organisation accepts any Christian denomination into their ranks."

  Eleanor butts in. "They were involved in the Spanish Inquisition and countless witch hunts across Europe and Russia."

  Senior Jacob looks annoyed at her interruption, but allows her to continue speaking.

  "They don't ask questions if they believe you are what they deem as evil; they actively hunt and burn until there's nothing left."

  Religious fanatics are what I fear most. I thought the most dangerous thing I would have to deal with was the Christian American Woman's Temperance and Morality League, not an ancient order of pseudo-knights. I've been replaying the whole event over and over in my mind during the snowstorms, and I have come to several unsettling conclusions.

  "What brought them here? As far as I'm aware, I've been able to hide my existence reasonably well."

  I noticed the uneasy shift between them.

  "The Order of St Marcus have learnt how to track arcane energies. The recent uptick in global levels would have alerted them to something happening. They would have searched through prayer and divine divination for the source. You are indeed well hidden, Keeper, but you are also a nexus point of arcane energy. Anyone with the resources and knowledge would be able to locate you." Senior Jacob gave me the bad news.

  I had feared as much, but getting it confirmed was still unpleasant. But I still believe that they were missing a key fact.

  "I accept that as a possible means of my revealing to them. But that doesn't explain why there were no scouting missions before they came at me in force."

  I could see some confusion, so I elaborated.

  "They came in force. There were no scouting parties or unusual people in the woods around New Midian. They appeared with military-grade weapons and training, an additional artefact I'm still trying to identify. There was no hesitation; they knew exactly what they were doing and where they were going."

  As I spoke, the growing concern between them told me they were beginning to understand what I was trying to communicate.

  "This means that they somehow scryed my location or someone told them where I was."

  There, I said it. I suspected that there was at least one traitor out there in their organisations feeding this Order of St Marcus information.

  "Both options are… Concerning Keeper." Senior Jacob was not the diplomat that senior Ahmed was, but he was trying. Eleanor remained silent, and I could see she was deep in thought.

  "Should I expect another attack? This one larger and better organised?"

  "Not right now. The Order has a precise way of approaching a problem that cannot be overwhelmed quickly. They will sit back and assess the situation, looking for information that will give them the advantage next time they come." Senior Ahmed spoke confidently.

  That did not fill me with confidence at all.

  "We will need to monitor the town on the roads more closely to make sure that no more agents of the Order come to the area," Eleanor finally spoke. "It is most likely that they are operating through the religious institutions in Crossway or a community nearby."

  "Agreed. We will both have to communicate with our respective leadership to receive further instructions on how to deal with them." Senior Jacob and Eleanor were now looking at each other.

  "We must be careful not to be hand and become targets ourselves." Eleanor pointed out.

  "Yes, we must be subtle. The disappearance of a full squad of order members will cause them to focus on this area more."

  I felt a bit cut out of the conversation at the moment, but I allowed it to continue.

  "We will need to retreat and see if we can find out where they are getting their intelligence from."

  They both made their hurried excuses to depart and disappeared into the barren world around us. I watched them go, not dismissing my avatar straightaway. I always laughed that they had either by design or accident missed when I told them I had acquired several arcane artefacts from the Order team.

  Harrington was investigating right now and expected me to pop by so he could explain what he had discovered. I made sure that they were gone before dismissing my avatar and travelling across the graveyard to the mausoleum where he had set up.

  I brought my avatar back into existence behind the doors, so as not to open them and let out the heat that had built up within this place. Harrington was hunched over the sarcophagus in the middle of the central room with all three boxes now open. Nothing had exploded, and he seemed unaffected by any arcane curses or hexes, so I think things were going well.

  I knew we would be aware of my presence, and this was confirmed when he looked up at me.

  "Such wonders, Keeper!" He was like a kid in a candy store. "Three exceptional items of arcane power for me to study. The secrets they will unlock and mysteries they will reveal to me."

  "What have you learned?"

  He nodded at my question, expecting it, and began to speak, first of the smallest of the boxes. It contains several medallions and powders that can be used in creating wards or arcane prisons. From what little I have been able to discern from my research into them, I believe they are specifically designed to be placed around the altar in your church."

  "Let me guess, they're designed to cut me off and lock me into that location."

  "Indeed. Very astute, Keeper. The second box contains a hammer engraved with sigils and runes. Many of them I do not recognise, but there is definitely an energy within that artefact. I believe it is designed to crack the altar itself, allowing access to something inside of it."

  "That something would be me. My physical form is stored within the altar."

  I wasn't concerned with revealing this to him as the altar was a heavy slab of marble, and he was a loyal servant of my Dungeon. I knew he would not find any better deal than what I had offered him.

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  "I suspected as much. But it's the contents of the third box which I believe will concern you most. This is the box that you felt a reaction to." He reached into the box and pulled out another one. This one was made up of silver, iron and copper. It was more like a mesh than a solid, structured box. I felt the same unease again, but this time far stronger.

  "This is a wondrous construction of arcane materials and energies. It contains even more sigils and runes than the hammer. I believe it is designed to contain your physical form for transportation and long-term containment."

  He looked at me, seemed to understand my unease with the object, and quickly put it back in the box and closed it. It was a rare example of him actually reading the room when dealing with arcane artefacts, as he usually was focused entirely on them and nothing else.

  "What did you learn from our recent visitors?" He asked, trying to shift the conversation.

  "It seems that our intruders were from the Order of St Marcus."

  "The Order of St Marcus. That would explain much. I have only heard some whispers and vague references to them, but they seem to be quite the threat if you attract their attention."

  "Well, it seems we've attracted theirs."

  We both fell silent at that, each lost in our own thoughts. I was going to have to accelerate some of my plans, which did not sit well with me. But first, I need to speak with Herbert. He needed to know the threat the Order represented and that he would have to do a few things for me.

  "The Order of St Marcus? Sounds like a group of priests of some type." Herbert spoke, looking a bit confused. He had come a few days later to drop off the papers, and I was now informing him of the situation.

  "They are. It seems that they had a role to play throughout history in the form of the Spanish Inquisition and countless witch hunts."

  "The Spanish what?" I curse myself for getting into this period, which is not known for its extensive education, and Herbert was not the sharpest tool in the box.

  "Let me just say that they have a habit of killing anyone that they believe is involved with "the devil"."

  "Well, you're not the devil or a demon." He seemed still confused.

  "I'm afraid anything vaguely linked to the supernatural is in their minds tied to the devil."

  Realisation dawned on him. "Will they come for my family and me?"

  "Maybe. That's why I always make sure that you follow the instructions I give you about your security. I don't make you do them for my benefit but yours."

  He nodded vigorously at my words, with me suspecting he had been a bit lax recently with those procedures I had hammered into his head. There was a good chance that he would not be so lax anymore.

  "What if they come for us?" He asked fearfully.

  "You own a large number of guns for a reason."

  I pointed out to him, and he understood that if they come, shoot and keep shooting until they are dead.

  "There is another reason why I am happy to see you today."

  "Which is, Keeper?"

  "When the weather changes in a few weeks, I will need you to make a trip down to Boise. The law firm used to create the trust that will engage upon your death to protect the land is headquartered there, I believe."

  "Yes, it is. Why do you ask?"

  "I will need you to make a few changes to it and bring forward its creation. I'm going to have you create a living trust or a foundation, whichever is most effective for me. I will be giving you a series of items for you to sell to act as seeding money."

  I went on to explain to him what I wanted and what he would be required to do. It was nothing too complex, but I knew, legally speaking, it could be set up to be cut out quickly, which I did not want. The foundation or trust, whichever is most practical, would protect the land and serve as a funding source for new companies or research. He would be the head of the trust and would have a banker to invest our funds. I would, however, have the ultimate say through him on everything.

  The land can never be sold. The trust would cover any taxes or financial obligations arising from the preservation of the land. On the economic front, one-third of the trust's financial resources will be in gold. The remaining third will be invested to generate a steady income. Half of that income will be reinvested in the trust funds, and 25% will remain discretionary for investments of my choice. The remaining 25% will be paid to the Driver family. The rest would be used to maintain the organisation. These things were not cheap to run.

  I could see he was getting lost in my requirements, so I kept them as simple as possible. I told them to send his wife up to speak to me if it was too much for him. He said that wouldn't be necessary, and I think I might have insulted him a bit with that statement. I had him recite my requirements, and he wrote them down to make sure. I approved of that.

  I made sure he included a clause in the trust stating that no financial changes could occur without the direct signature of the trust's head. Also, the trust will be hereditary, passed to the firstborn son or designated heir. Power of attorney would not be recognised.

  I was building in as many safeguards as I could to prevent fraud or abuse.

  I told him to come back in a few weeks, and I would supply him with the items he will need to take to Bosie to sell. He looked a bit cold, as I had held him here for some time while speaking. When he comes back to collect the items, I will go over everything again to make sure.

  An excuse to visit their elder son might actually help make the family happier.

  March came, and the snow remained.

  I've seen winters in the past that will not let go until the end of March and even into April, and it seemed this year would be similar. That meant a delayed spring and a shorter planting season.

  Storms were coming off the mountains, bringing more snow.

  I was at the top of the spatial bubble, looking out across the forest, when I caught a flash of movement. I thought at first I might have been imagining it, but then I got another quick flash. Someone was out there in the trees.

  I shifted down to the wall where I'd last seen the movement. I was still a few metres above them, looking out into the trees, and the sky was overcast, late afternoon. There wasn't much sunlight, casting the forest into deep shadow.

  I watched for about 20 minutes but saw no movement.

  "Am I finally losing it?"

  I think I'm talking to myself as a sign of madness, but seeing things, yes, definitely. I was about to turn away and head back to the top of the spatial bubble when I caught another quick flash.

  "Right, there is someone out there."

  Whoever was out there was moving quickly and with skill in the woodland. Even with a lack of foliage and places to hide, they were moving to maximise every advantage they could get. I didn't hear anything and only vaguely caught flickers of movement now and again.

  The first thing I thought was the Order of St Marcus. Had they come to do a scouting mission to find out what happened to the first party? That was a strong possibility, but it seemed that there was only one person out there. I didn't think they would send one after a group of eight that, in some practical sense.

  Whatever was out there was moving around the perimeter wall. I began following it, and for the next nearly two hours, I tracked the intruder in the woods as best I could. Eventually, we made it all the way back around to the gates.

  The sky was darkening from both the setting sun and the heavy, dark-grey cloud, with another snowstorm looming.

  There was a strange tension in the air that I could not identify. It was almost as if this wind was holding its breath. Higher up, the wind was blowing it all down; here, it was strangely still.

  I had contemplated rousing my Hunters to go chase off whoever was out there. Something stopped me. It was partly the desire to remain hidden, but I had a strange sense of concern bordering on fear. Whoever was out there was tickling some warning on the back of my mind. And I was listening.

  I felt as if I were being watched. Not me personally, but the Dungeon as a whole. It was an almost primal instinct. Something in the back of your mind is telling you that a predator is nearby or is watching you. This was an unfamiliar sensation for me, given my new existence; I was the predator in many respects.

  The first snowflakes began to fall from the sky.

  The weather had changed, and I doubted whoever was out there would come into New Median now. The wind had picked up, and the snow began to fall heavily.

  I did not turn my attention away; the feeling of being watched remained.

  The snow was falling, and the wind was now blowing, but that tension was still in the air. Something was going to happen, I was sure of it, but I did not know what.

  I decided to be a bit pre-emptive.

  I reached out to my Hunters through our mental connection.

  "Wake up, everyone. There's something outside the gates I don't know what just yet, but I'm sure of it."

  I got a general sense of confusion from everyone, but they heeded my words. They got themselves ready and awaited my orders.

  The snow was coming down thick now, not blizzard strength, but far from a gentle snowfall. The flakes were large and heavy, settling quickly on the snow already there.

  After a few more minutes, a figure emerged into the open area before the gates out of the trees. It looked like a man, but this proportion seemed off. His build and how we walked reminded me of Harrington. He wore a large cowboy-style hat and what looked like a bearskin coat. It was more like a cloak wrapped around him, as I could not see any arms.

  The tension had changed now to an aura of danger.

  Whoever this was, he was a threat to me. Somehow, I knew this instinctively.

  He took slow, methodical steps towards the gates, the snow appearing not to hinder them in any way. As he got closer, I realised he wasn't wearing any shoes or boots but was walking barefoot.

  He stepped across the threshold into the courtyard, and all hell broke loose.

  [Alert! A Monster has invaded your Dungeon. Protect your Core!]

  Before I could react, the figure cast off the bearskin cloak and began to run straight towards the church.