29th of Thermidor, 1535

The trio rode out of the briar patches and densely packed alder trees to finally reach the main road that they were meant to be following. If Oleander had the map in his hands, he would insist on taking every single, conceivable short-cut possible; he didn’t want to be beaten by any other hunting company. Their path forward was outlined with stunning red maple trees. They paired well with the orange and purple hues of the setting sky. Cool, refreshing breezes passed gently through the trees. Oleander and Cormag reveled in the freshwater air they would soon be experiencing again; Moira, on the other hand, retracted into her Church of Careena disguise with each gust of wind.

“Gods, it’s been ages since we’ve been here, right Cormag?” Oleander remarked.

“Yeah, wasn’t it about four years ago that everyone in the Red Wolves took a holiday down to Admiral’s Wharf?”

Oleander’s eyebrows were raised in disbelief, “Four years already…”

“What’s Admiral’s Wharf?” Moira asked.

“It’s this line of shops that sell fish and crabs right off lake Dunnock. There’s this one place that sells these really good fish and chips. The place next door to it also sold softshell crab, I got this little bastard here to try them.”

“Pretty damn tasty, wish we had them in Kerth. All we get are scorpions and centipedes, which aren’t bad, just very bitter,” Cormag added.

“Maybe we can stop by after we solve this missing children’s case,” Oleander suggested, “I haven’t had good seafood in ages.”

“Would it taste like the food at the Massengale manor?” Moira was apprehensive about trying new foods. Animal blood and insect hemolymph had their own unique and enjoyable flavors, but most other races didn’t share her sentiment. Cooking things tended to ruin the taste for her.

“Fish and chips are completely different than a steak dinner. It’s good food—I promise,” Oleander reassured.

Within thirty minutes, they were at the city gates of Sterling. Oleander slowed his new horse to a trot. He and Moira found themselves in a similar situation when they first reached Ravenhold; guards were interrogating everyone entering and exiting the city. The trio did, however, expect such a reception. Three people on one horse certainly drew some double-takes; Cormag likened it to an amateur carnival act. Despite the absurdity, Oleander was grateful that both Moira and Cormag weighted significantly less than he did or the horse would’ve fallen flat on its face.

One of the burlier guards strode over to their horse, but once realizing they weren’t carrying any large containers or saddlebags, he waved them off. The lakeside city of Sterling stood as one of the most populous cities in eastern Morrigan. Its central fixture was a belltower with a pair of bird wings cradling the belfry. From the top of the tower, one could see the sprawlings orchards that littered the countryside, Admiral’s Wharf with its handful of ships spreading out across the lake, and way off in the distance—a glimpse of the Kassedian Kingdom of Elishel. Raema was the city sitting across the waters of lake Dunnock.

The vacation town looked just as lovely as Cormag and Oleander had remembered, but the attitude was entirely unwelcoming. Everyone walked with an air of caution about them. No one made eye contact. Any families walking about the streets kept a firm grasp of their children. Mother’s kept their infants close to their bosom.

As they passed by a schoolhouse, the trio noticed the announcement board was overrun by the missing children’s posters. The school’s doors were boarded up with a “Canceled until further notice” sign hastily hung up. Oleander led the horse around the corner and followed the street for a few minutes until they reached the Sterling Police Department.

They hitched up the horse and entered. As opposed to the streets, the department was bustling. Leads on the missing children’s case were discussed at near shouting levels between the officers. Even the person behind the front desk had to shout to Oleander, Moira, and Cormag just to be heard. Cormag was barely able to poke his nose on top of the rather tall desk.

“How may I help you three?”

“We’re here to see Captain Bushnell. Do you know where she is in this mess?”

“Any information pertinent for Captain Bushnell can go through our help desk, sir. Is there something that requires police involvement, or would you happen to have any information regarding the missing children—”

“We’re here to help out with the missing children’s case. Me and Cormag over here were in the Red Wolves with Irene years ago.”

“Licenses?”

Oleander and Cormag slid their cards across the table. The gentleman looked quizzically at Oleander’s split card, and then over to Moira who produced nothing. “And you miss?”

“Oh...erm...Church of Careena members is not required to carry hunting licenses.” She stumbled at first but then put on a facade of confidence. Oleander and Cormag raised their eyebrows in surprise and exchanged glances.

The gentleman shuffled through an overstuffed filing cabinet. “...Iron Stags…Gilded Clematis…Madrigal…ah! Here we are, The Order of Careena."

He skimmed through the paper. Moira shook nervously. She already didn’t like the environment she was in. It brought back terrible memories of being chased across southern Morrigan until she reached Blackburn Hollow. She thought she would surely die. Would the police here turn on her if they even smelled the possibility that she wasn’t human? Would she be able to take on the police with Oleander’s and Cormag’s assistance if it came down to it? Would they—

“—You’re right,” the officer at the desk remarked. Moira pulled herself away from her thoughts. “—By the proclamation of King Orsen II, all practicing members of the Order of Careena are withheld from all instances of military service, tax collection, and blessing confiscation.”

“—And hunting licenses are essentially massive tax sinks,” Oleander interjected.

The man at the desk nodded, “Captain Bushnell is at the end of the hallway in the conference room.”

Moira nervously bowed her head and the trio walked through the chaotic sea officers. Policemen cut through their path carrying boxes filled with anonymously written statements from the public.

“How’d you know about the license deal?” Oleander whispered.

“My mother told stories about places in Northern Morrigan. In one story, she mentioned the Church of Caryna was granted special permissions. Knowing that much, I just guessed.”

Oleander snorted and smirked, “Not bad.”

As Cormag’s ears fidgeted back and forth, he was able to parse out individual conversations. He turned to watch a shouting match flare-up between a Kassedian woman and several seemingly panicked police officers; it was obvious by their faces that only one of the policemen could understand the distraught woman. Occasionally Cormag would pick up grumbles about letting goblins and Kassedians walk into their department—Cormag promptly flipped off his detractors.

Oleander tried the door to the conference room, but it was locked. He then knocked loudly. A voice from inside yelled, “What!”

“I’m just a simple monster hunter with his pet goblin willing to do a few jobs for you!” Oleander spoke, playing up his accent.

The door flew open. Standing at a smidge under one hundred and fifty centimeters, the young police captain, in her smart blue uniform, looked up at the towering Oleander with at least five different emotions on her face. “Alex! I don’t believe it, how long has it been?”

“Too long,” Cormag remarked as he peered inside her office, “Look at this, better room than you had in the Red Wolves that’s for sure.”

“Uh!” Her expression immediately changed, “Yeah! Speaking of the Red Wolves, I need to tell you—”

The door on the opposite side of the room opened up and a couple walking arm-in-arm entered. The young woman was clad in aquamarine with floral patterns across her dress and a sun hat with matching flowers; the young man beside her wore a simple suit, but was just as smartly dressed in his white dress shirt and black slacks—a single aquamarine flower was clasped to suspenders. They both stopped dead in their tracks as they saw Oleander.

The woman also broke into tears as she rushed forward, “Ohmygooosh! Alexander!” She ran up to Oleander and embraced him as hard as she could. “Four years…you look just like you did when you left.”

The monster hunter laughed at the sudden warm reception. He grabbed her hand and spun her around, “I wish I could say the same about you. I can hardly recognize you, Caroline.” Her blonde curly locks sway back and forth as she turned.

“Hey, you taking care of this little lady as I told you to, James?”

The man in question sauntered over, pretending to play it cool by offering Oleander a handshake. The monster hunter took that hand and pulled him in for a hug, “Look at you, can’t call you a kid anymore. What’s that you got there?” Oleander lightly tugged on the small amount of scruff on James’s chin.

“How’ve you been old man?” James remarked in a cheekily-mocking way.

“Old man, I’m only thirty. You little shit,” Oleander grabbed his head and playfully dug his elbow onto his scalp. “But I doing good, but it could always be better.”

James and Caroline repeated, “It could always be better.”

Cormag cleared his throat. Caroline immediately scooped up Cormag and squeezed the life out of him, “Oh I’d never forget about the world’s greatest Signomancer.”

The suffocating goblin could hardly form words, “Now…I wish you had.”

“What have you two gotten up to since we parted ways?” Oleander asked.

“Well, Caroline and I finally—”

Caroline dropped Cormag to show off her new engagement ring, “Our wedding is set for next Floréal.” Oleander grabbed Caroline and James and hoisted them up, “Look at that Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart. I didn’t think you had it in you,” he looked directly at James.

James remarked, “Hey, what can I say, it’s almost like I love her or something.”

Moira marveled at the mirth on display. This was the only time Moira saw a genuine smile on Oleander’s face without a bottle of alcohol in his hand. The door opened again, and this time all the warmth was sucked out of the room.

“Alexander Swine.”

All merriment ceased; that tone of voice pulled Oleander’s grin into a soft scowl. Oleander put the couple back down as he watched the leader of the Red Wolves enter while being flanked by his two lieutenants: Marcel and Roderick.

“Harrison Graves,” Oleander responded.

Garrison stood only a hairsbreadth taller than Oleander. He was in comparably much better shape. Oleander had a burlier build, but Garrison’s athletic frame was cultivated through decades of intense military-style training that he would perform every morning at the break of dawn. Affixed to his belt was his morningstar, and just seeing the handle alone, Oleander winced in pain. His back tensed up as memories of tasting blood flooded his mind. The two large mens’ expressions soured.

“Heard from Murdoch lately?” Garrison asked.

“Not for a while,” Oleander bluntly replied.

“Strange...I figured cockroaches traveled in packs,” Garrison remarked.

The thick air of tension was already splitting itself apart without the need for a knife. Moira watched as Cormag, Caroline, and James grabbed a different section of Oleander’s belt while digging their heels into the floorboards. Marcel put his hand on Garrison’s shoulder; he shook his head at his leader and asked him to simmer down. Roderick simply leaned back against the wall and watched as the two behemoths slowly moved towards each other.

Garrison mouthed off, “Playing hunter again? I told you. Both of you,” Garrison looked down at Cormag, “What would happen if I caught you abusing our good name and sullying our good image.”

“Good name, good image,” Oleander scoffed. He took out his split hunting license and flicked the two pieces at Garrison’s chest. “Then keep it, I don’t need them anymore.”

Garrison grabbed the handle of his morningstar, “I already had to reeducate Murdoch. Do I have to teach you another lesson?” Oleander ripped himself out of his friends’ grasps and marched forward. Garrison shoved Marcel out of the way and met his former associate in the middle of the room. “Go ahead tough guy,” Garrison smirked, “The first swing’s on the house. It’ll be the only one you get.”

Oleander reared his arm back. Caroline and James backed away slowly. Both Cormag and Marcel brandished a knife. Bang! The gunshot not only quieted the room but the entirety of the police station. Several police officers kicked down Ivy’s door, holding out their firearms.

“I’ve got it under control!” Ivy commanded, “Tell everyone else to go on about their business.”

She turned her attention back to the two men still glaring each down—refusing to back down. “We’re not at Lexington hall, we’re in Sterling. You two are under my authority. Garrison, I asked you here for a specific purpose. Oleander, that invitation now extends to you. We have eight missing children, which means much more than any petty problem you two have. Back it up, both of you!” Ivy sternly ordered. The two stood almost nose to nose with each other, but Ivy wouldn’t put her gun down. The frustrated police captain cocked her revolver.

“Goddammit, don’t make me put you both behind bars!” Ivy shouted.

Garrison snorted, “How do you intend to—”

“—I know how that weapon of yours works, don’t forget that Harris,” Ivy remarked back.

A handful of tense moments passed. Garrison was the first one to step back. Oleander followed suit. The door swung wide up again. Ivy was about to order her officers to stand down, but it was a mass of reporters. Some of her officers were already trying to push back the press, but they were ravenous for any information. They all beckoned to Garrison for his thoughts on the missing children’s case. Garrison’s scowl changed to a big crowd-pleasing smile—it sickened Oleander.

“Red Wolves, we’re leaving.” Garrison led his group out as he spoke to various reporters from newspapers across Sterling and the neighboring towns.

As Marcel passed, he patted Oleander on the shoulder, “Let’s meet up sometime Alexander.” Roderick walked behind Marcel and didn’t even make eye contact with Oleander, Cormag, or Moira.

Caroline and James both looked embarrassed, they said their goodbyes and sheepishly left the room. The doors were shut and the silence finally returned.

“What did you see in him, Ivy?” Oleander coldly remarked.

“A lot of things, sadly not all at once,” the exhausted police captain holstered her revolver. “So, you three want to help out?”

“Damn right we do,” Oleander turned his anger into a belly full of fire.

“Alright then, follow me.” Ivy led them through the opposite door. It resembled the wall in Oleander’s house that was covered in newspaper clippings—except on a larger scale. Patrol reports and family testimonies filled one chalkboard. Another board was filled with suspects, just about every single face was crossed off with a paragraph underneath stating why they weren’t responsible. The mainboard was used to display the posters of the now eight missing children, underneath their pictures were any conceivable pieces of information that could be useful to the investigation. The last chalkboard had a rough outline of Sterling and its surrounding areas—all eight abduction points were circled.

“I said this to Garrison and his group, and I’ll say this you and this doesn’t leave this department, understood?” Once everyone nodded, Ivy continued, “We’re at a complete loss.”

“Our last police captain was forced to resign after the fifth abduction. I don’t have much time left in this spot either.”

Oleander, Cormag, and Moira looked around the room almost completely overwhelmed. Moira asked, “Where do we start? Oleander and I only know of the two newspaper articles.”

“Well, I’ll walk you three through the latest incidents. What was your name, I didn’t have time to ask,” Ivy responded.

“Moira.”

Oleander interjected, “You can take off the disguise, we can trust Ivy.”

“Disguise?” Ivy repeated.

Moira pulled back her hood and fully extended her arms. Even the tips of her legs became visible.

“Blessed be Aurelian, what am I looking at?” Ivy jumped back against a table.

“A spiderkin,” Moira answered.

“Well...if you’re traveling with Oleander and Cormag, then I’ll trust you. It’s...um nice to meet you miss Moira. A-Anyway, where was I?” Ivy returned to the mainboard, “We have no reason to believe that the children were taken beyond Sterling’s outer limits; they’re somewhere close by, we just can’t tell where.” Ivy walked over to the chalkboard with the diagram of the city on it, “At first our perpetrator kidnapped children off the Southern and Western routes to the city on their way to and from school. Once we shut down the schools across Sterling and ordered a mandatory curfew, we hoped the disappearances would stop so we could focus on flushing out our target. Unfortunately, they were able to strike twice.”

“Did the families disobey curfew?” Oleander asked.

“Let me show you the timeline to get a better idea,” Ivy walked back to the main chalkboard, “16th of Thermidor is when the most recent article reaches the press. 19th of Thermidor is when our sixth child, Madeline Rivers, gets caught on her way to school. Her older brother Marcus was walking with her at the time that Madeline wandered off. He stated that she heard a strange noise and went to go investigate. After a couple of minutes, Marcus went to check on his sister and she was gone. Despite not having much to go on, little Marcus was able to find us a single piece of evidence. 20th of Thermidor, we initiated school closures and set a mandatory curfew for minors across the city. Unfortunately, we never communicated such circumstances to the Kassedians. Any family traveling from Raema to Sterling during their summer holidays immediately became a target. 25th of Thermidor, children seven and eight, Roth Kavas and Taesha Uanshar, were taken less than eight hours after they arrived at Admiral’s Wharf. We’re not only getting an earful from the families of the two Kassedian children but the Kassedian diplomats in the city.”

“Admiral’s Wharf is packed during the summer, not to mention if the kids were taken from the port in broad daylight, then someone had to see the kidnapper. The ports are also pretty deep into the city,” Oleander remarked.

“The amount of conflicting information from that day is staggering. The notes and statements reach as high as my desk,” Ivy answered.

“There hasn’t been any demands or any word from the kidnappers?” Cormag asked.

“Complete silence,” Ivy countered.

“What evidence do we have?” Moira asked.

“A book bag, a doll, and a length of metal wire. That’s all.”

The trio went over to the small evidence table. The left strap of the backpack was partially torn, but according to the police report, there was no sign of a struggle. The doll had a deep puncture wound through its side, considering it was found impaled to a tree branch. Moira took the metal cable into her hands closely examined it; it was made of multiple smaller wires wrapped together. Moira also noticed little bits of wood splinters stuck in the bundled wires.

“With regards to the doll, Hilda’s parents explained that they never saw her attempt to climb a tree, so we’re still trying to figure out how the doll was discovered up in the tree.”

“What kind of person would do something like this?” Oleander remarked as he looked over the list of suspects.

“Maybe it’s not a human, to begin with,” Cormag remarked, “It could be something that lives in or climbs up trees.”

“The biggest things around here are owls, hawks, and the occasional bear. The latter tend to leave a mess when they eat, or tracks at the very least,” Ivy explained.

“I’m leaning more towards human or Kassedian,” Oleander remarked, “Only something non-monstrous could leave next to no evidence.”

“So what, we look for people hiding in trees all day?” Cormag asked.

“That might not be too far off,” Moira remarked. “Captain Bushnell, can you arrange a meeting with Marcus Rivers at the site of his sister’s disappearance. I have a few questions for him.”

“I have the transcript of what he told us,” Ivy remarked.

“No, this wire might be related to the other two pieces of evidence. I just need a few specific answers.”

“I can get word sent first thing in the morning. Well, this is excellent, we have a plan of sorts. Garrison and his group were going to search through the cordoned-off areas of Admiral’s Wharf. Now before we part ways, if you see the children and they are in immediate danger, or you find the suspect and they become a threat, I want you to use these.”

Ivy rifled through a locker in the room and pulled out two hand-held smoke flares and two flare guns. “Both of these are single-use. The tube-shaped one is used for the daytime, the flare gun is for nighttime. With the number of patrols going through the western and southern roads, either flare will be seen quickly enough to provide backup. Remember, above all else, bring these children back home in one piece.”

Oleander saluted his old friend, she smirked at his formality. “Don’t let him get to you Alex, he means well, in his bullish way.”

He sighed, “There’s a part of me that wants to believe that, but I just can’t anymore.”