The vault smelled faintly of dust and old stone, the silence broken only by the clink of coins.

  Alistair dragged another fistful of gold from his pouch and dropped it onto the growing heap between them. The pile slid dangerously close to Fergus’s knee.

  Fergus, kneeling on the floor with his back perfectly straight despite the indignity, gave a small sniff of disapproval. “The conditions in which I am forced to labor are abysmal. I am practically groveling on the dirty floor.”

  Alistair tapped his foot, restless. “Yes, well, welcome to my world. I’ve been groveling since birth.”

  Fergus ignored him, long pale fingers moving quickly. He stacked the coins into neat towers, scribbled another figure in the ledger propped on his lap, then returned to the pile without missing a beat. Columns and notes already filled the page in sharp, precise script.

  Alistair yawned so wide his jaw cracked. “This is thrilling, really. Edge-of-your-seat excitement.” He tugged his pouch open again, fishing out a handful of bright gems, and held them out. “Here. Shiny.”

  Fergus’s red eyes widened, the first crack in his composed mask. He took the gems reverently, turning them between his claws before adding them to a new column in the ledger. “My lord, the fortune you have stumbled upon is… simply astounding. If any kingdom learned the extent of your wealth, they would be at our gates by dawn.”

  Alistair smirked. “So what you’re telling me is we shouldn’t have any problem buying what we need.”

  Fergus shook his head slowly, as though each word carried weight. “No, we will not. These alone would more than suffice. Yet I advise restraint, we should preserve a significant reserve for the future. Wealth is not merely for spending. It is leverage. Power.”

  Alistair exhaled loudly, leaning back against the cold wall. “Power, leverage, restraint. Meanwhile I’m dying of boredom. Can’t we just call it a mountain of money and be done with it?”

  Alistair dumped another handful of coins into the pile. The clink echoed through the vault. “There. That’s the last of it. Now can I go hunting before I fall asleep on your ledger?”

  Fergus lifted his gaze, the disapproving look of a tutor staring down an unruly pupil. “My lord…”

  Alistair groaned. “Oh, what now?”

  Fergus hesitated, the pause uncharacteristic. Then, carefully, “We must discuss another matter. One you have perhaps… avoided.”

  Alistair’s brow furrowed. “Avoided?”

  Fergus’s voice softened, but the words struck like steel. “Feeding.”

  Alistair blinked. His mouth formed an unhelpful o.

  Fergus pressed gently. “Have your companions, or any of the Caelari, agreed to… provide? It would not do for their lord to succumb to frenzy.”

  Alistair opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally, he shook his head. “No. Only… only Thess. She was willing.”

  He didn’t explain further. He didn’t need to.

  Fergus inclined his head, tone shifting into the steady calm of his lord’s voice. “Then she sounds like a brave woman.”

  Alistair’s lips curled into a sad smile. “She was the best.”

  For a moment, silence.

  Then Alistair’s tone hardened. “But I won’t ask my people for their blood. Not now. Not ever. They’ve already given enough.”

  Fergus nodded once, as though he’d expected no other answer. “Understood. Still, my lord, that is another reason we should hasten our journey. While you have… restraint, my constitution will not grant me the same indulgence.”

  Alistair’s eyes narrowed, studying him. Fergus’s own eyes glimmered brighter than before, no longer the muted rust-red of a sated vampire, but edging toward crimson.

  Made vampires always walked that line. Frenzy was their shadow, closer than breath. Most gave in. Fergus never had. That he raised the subject at all meant he was already on the brink.

  Alistair’s jaw tightened. “As soon as the sun sets, we move.”

  Relief flickered across Fergus’s composed mask. “Thank you, my lord. At the post, we should acquire thralls. Even a small number would grant us stability.”

  Alistair exhaled. “Agreed. One more thing for the shopping list.”

  By the time they were finished, Alistair’s pouch sagged heavy again. He’d taken back the bulk of the coins and gems, leaving a little less than half locked in the vault for the future. Fergus was satisfied with the arrangement; Alistair mostly felt relieved the counting was over.

  They descended into the throne hall. Only Brimma was there. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her bird’s-nest hair even wilder than usual, and a half-circle of Caelari children crowded around her. Aeson was among them, his eyes bright.

  Their parents stood nearby, anxious and watchful, but none interrupted.

  Brimma had a pile of objects in her lap, stones, sticks, a bent spoon. She lifted each one, said its name slowly, and the children repeated it in rough chorus.

  Alistair leaned against a pillar, amused. “And what exactly is this lesson?”

  The moment the Caelari noticed him, they dipped their heads in a gesture that was halfway between respect and awe.

  Brimma sniffed without looking up. “I grew bored waiting for you. Thought I’d put the little ones to use. They’ll need to learn the language eventually.” She thrust the spoon in the air like a wand. “Spoon.”

  “Spoon,” the children echoed, proud of themselves.

  Alistair huffed a laugh, then scanned the hall. His eyes narrowed. “Where’s Kael? And why do I see fewer Caelari than I should?”

  Brimma shrugged, handing off the spoon to one of the children. “Knife-ear decided to play shepherd. Took some of them outside for a stroll.”

  Alistair straightened, worry prickling his gut. “Outside? In this wasteland?”

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  Before he could stalk for the door, Fergus’s calm voice cut in. “My lord, the plateau is safe. I scouted it thoroughly. Allowing them fresh air will do more good than harm. They cannot remain caged here forever.”

  Alistair muttered under his breath, “Fresh air in a blighted wasteland, what a gift.” Still, Fergus’s tone reassured him.

  Alistair lingered a little longer, watching Brimma quiz her wide-eyed students. Aeson’s lips moved earnestly, struggling to keep pace with her sharp words. A few of the braver Caelari stepped forward to speak with him, halting, nervous, but trying. He answered each as best he could, their deference still strange, still heavy.

  At last he straightened. “Time to go hunting.”

  He switched into Caelarian, his voice carrying through the hall. “We’ll go out, make sure the land is safe. When we return, you’ll be free to explore it yourselves.”

  The murmur that followed was soft but hopeful. Brimma ruffled Aeson’s hair one last time and rose, muttering about “ungrateful leeches dragging her from her classroom.”

  The four of them stepped out into the cold air.

  Kael was already outside, crouched with a dozen Caelari scattered around him. They poked at the blackened soil, prodded tree bark, and even gazed upward like they expected the sky itself to hold answers.

  Alistair called out, and Kael jogged over to the stone ledge, a few of his followers trailing behind. The others stayed, still curious.

  Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Prudent, is it, parading them around before the valley’s even cleared?”

  Kael shrugged, almost smug. “Relax. I picked the stronger ones, the ones who’ve fought before. I was always nearby.”

  Alistair sighed, rubbing his temple. “Still dangerous.”

  Brimma’s frown was immediate. “What’s wrong with you, boy? Since when did you grow so cautious?”

  He shot her a glare, voice low and sharp. “Since I have the last remnants of a race under my protection.”

  For a heartbeat, silence. Then Fergus broke it, calm and proper as always. “My lord, might I suggest you begin your hunting sooner rather than later? The river you must cross lies some distance away, and we cannot know how long it will take you to cleanse the tile.”

  Alistair adjusted the redcrystal sword at his side and nodded. “You’re right, of course.” He glanced down at the massive beast at his heel. “Do you want me to leave Buddy here in case of an emergency?”

  Buddy whined, ears twitching, flames sparking faintly from his jaw.

  Fergus shook his head. “I do not believe he will be needed here. He would be of greater use at your side. Besides, we do not yet know what threats await. Best to keep your strongest asset close.”

  Alistair patted the hellhound’s broad skull, earning a rumbling growl that was more pleasure than menace. “You heard him. You’re with us.”

  Buddy barked, the sound booming across the valley.

  And with that, the four left the safety of the mountain fortress.

  ***

  A couple of hours later, they trudged through the dead forest.

  The trees loomed tall and skeletal, their bark blackened, their branches twisted like claws. The soil crunched underfoot, dry and lifeless. The air itself felt stale, heavy, as if the land had long since given up.

  Here and there, though, they spotted something stranger, bleached white trunks rising straight from the ground, smooth as bone. They had no branches, no leaves. They looked more like teeth than trees, jutting up from the earth.

  Alistair eyed one warily. “Those don’t look like trees. Those look like… something I should be stabbing.”

  Brimma shuffled over, laying her hand against the pale wood. She muttered a few words under her breath, then nodded sharply. “Trees, boy. Or they were, once. Likely died long ago when the corruption seeped into the soil.”

  “Fantastic,” Alistair muttered. “Dead trees that look like molars. Truly scenic.”

  Brimma ignored him. She crouched, digging her stubby fingers into the dirt. With a grunt, she pushed mana into the ground, casting a low-level earth spell meant to spur growth.

  For a heartbeat, green shot through the soil. Tiny sprouts curled upward, fragile but alive.

  Then the black rot surged back, swallowing the green, leaving only dust.

  Brimma huffed in frustration. “We need someone strong in nature magic. If only Thessaly were here…” Her voice cracked, softening. “She could have done it.”

  Alistair clenched his jaw. His grip tightened around the administrative crystal in his hand. We need to find a way to heal the soil.

  He flicked through menus until the tile map appeared. The glowing outline of their plateau pulsed faintly. He tapped it.

  [Tile Status: Claimed]

  [Corruption: 100%]

  Alistair growled. “See? How are we supposed to grow food when the very ground is rotten?”

  Kael’s voice broke the silence. “What if we find dryads? There have to be some in the forest below. If anyone can cleanse this corruption, it’s them.”

  Brimma turned to him, surprised. Her eyes narrowed. “That’s… actually not a bad idea, knife-ear.”

  Kael smirked faintly, puffing out his chest. “I’ll take that as the highest praise you’ve ever given me.”

  Alistair rubbed at his face, half hopeful, half exasperated. Dryads. Sure. Why not add another errand to the list?

  The crystal pulsed in Alistair’s hand. A new window flared across his vision.

  [Settlement Quest: Cleanse the Land]

  Objective: Purify the corruption infecting Tile #1.

  Methods: Unknown (seek druidic, dryad, or nature-aligned aid).

  Progress: 0%

  Reward:

  ? Soil fertility restored (agriculture unlocked).

  ? Corruption-based illnesses prevented (disease chance reduced to 0%).

  Failure: Without cleansing, corruption will spread. Food production impossible. Health hazards may increase over time.

  Alistair froze, rereading the last line. Illnesses?

  He’d worried about food. He hadn’t considered sickness. That the very ground could poison them, slowly, until his Caelari dwindled to nothing. His gut twisted cold.

  Brimma noticed his expression. “What is it now, bloodboy?”

  He dismissed the window with a flick. “Later,” he muttered, forcing his voice steady. “Let’s keep moving.”

  The forest pressed tighter around them. The dead trees creaked with the faintest wind. Then Kael’s ears twitched.

  “I hear water,” he said. “Running water. Didn’t think it would take us this long to reach the river. This valley’s bigger than I thought.”

  Alistair said nothing. His thoughts churned too loud.

  Brimma gave him a sideways look. “What are you brooding about now?”

  He exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “When the sun sets, I’m taking Fergus and Buddy. We’ll be gone a few days.”

  Both Brimma and Kael stopped dead in their tracks.

  Alistair kept walking. “There’s an orc trading post nearby. Fergus found it while scouting. Grain. Tools. Maybe thralls. Everything we need to keep the Caelari alive.”

  Kael stepped up beside him, face tense. “Then we’re coming with you.”

  Alistair shot him a flat look. “No. Someone has to stay. Organize the Caelari. Protect them.”

  Brimma crossed her arms, squinting at him. “Convenient that you decide we’re the babysitters.”

  Alistair smirked faintly. “I trust you more than Fergus to keep things from falling apart. That’s saying something.”

  He stopped, planting the redcrystal sword into the black soil. “But I do need one thing from you. If you can… find a dryad. Or anyone who can heal the land. When I come back, with supplies, with seeds, we’ll need somewhere to plant them.”

  Brimma’s face fell into seriousness. “You do realize how difficult that will be, don’t you? The forest below stretches for leagues. Finding a dryad there will be like chasing shadows.”

  “I know,” Alistair said quietly. His gaze shifted to Kael. “That’s why you go. Alone. You’re faster. Quieter. Less likely to draw attention.”

  Kael bristled. “And what if I run into something I can’t handle?”

  “You’ve run into plenty you couldn’t handle before,” Alistair said dryly. “Didn’t stop you then. Besides, Brimma has to stay here. The Caelari trust her. She can hold the fort.”

  Brimma nodded once, firm. “He’s right. You’re the sneaky one, knife-ear. If anyone can slip through that forest, it’s you.”

  Kael looked like he was about to argue again, but the fight drained from his shoulders. He exhaled through his nose, then muttered, “Fine. But you owe me for this, Alistair.”

  Alistair clasped his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  For the first time since they’d entered the forest, Kael’s expression lightened. Just a little.

  Brimma’s voice cut through the moment. “We’re here.”

  The dead trees parted, and before them stretched a wide river, its black water rushing fast and cold. Mist clung low to the surface, curling around jagged stones like ghostly fingers. The current roared, drowning out the silence of the blighted forest.

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