*One week later*

Garrisoned in the fort was over 2000 soldiers from Taldar’s official army, 500 support personnel consisting of things like tailors, cooks blacksmiths etc. Also, not including the Black Hound 150, there are 400 others from mercenary groups. Plus this place supposedly has enough provisions to withstand a 3 year siege with these numbers.

Since I got here, I had a couple of spars with others in the company who decided to check I could fight. Though in all honesty, I think they wanted to put the new guy into his place.

Currently, I have broken two bone, given one guy a severe concussion and have broken three noses, however people have stopped offering to spar.

Torben only had to get into one fight before this happened, breaking someone's neck by accident and killing him.

It was some sellsword from a different company who thought he had something to prove, so Torben didn’t get much blame for the ‘unfortunate accident’.

Also, I got rid of my previous equipment and exchanged it for the Black Hounds black leather armour, two black coated steel daggers (one at my ankle and another on my upper right leg), a black coated steel short sword as a backup (on my back) and a black coated steel longsword (hung at my waist).

A few minutes ago I was given a message by a youth acting as a courier within the Fort whilst I was eating an apple I… Procured from Argus.

Finally, I open it.

Raegan, get your arse to the main gate leading into the Forgotten Lands with Torben and ask if that bastard if he’s been nicking my apples

-Argus

I relay this information to Torben next to me and we set off down the large stone corridors towards the courtyard.

In the courtyard was a multitude of people from different groups training, some on practice dummies and some on each other. I also notice a military sergeant reprimanding someone because they didn’t properly fasten their sword belt.

Finally, we stand before the gate leading into the Forgotten Lands, where around 50 people from Black Hound have gathered.

We walk up to Argus and the rest of our squadron, including Lt. Petrus, a ex-military officer in his 40’s. Seeing us all here, he gathers us around and explains the situation.

“A few hours ago, a long range patrol of 10 came back with only two men, the others supposedly dead. Both of them had severe wounds and one of them was unconscious and dragged back here by the other.

He said they had stumbled upon a small ruin and some of their group went mad, beginning to attack each other before they could even enter. Now, since the other one woke up recently and confirmed the story, we are going to go out with five other squadrons and attempt to find it. We are suppose to find it, but not enter as it may bare a magic curse, or some other voodoo'y non-sense. Just to be clear, if we find it first, we are entering.”

We travel to the vicinity the ruins are in, taking us around two hours at a relatively quick pace and it was uneventful, due to the area close to Fort Torbek being relatively safe because of routine ‘hunting trips’.

Once we got there, each individual squadron split into groups of five to scour the area. My group consisting of; Argus, Torben, Grigori and someone from our squadron called Halstein who I haven’t interacted with a whole lot. He uses two one-handed axes plus having two spare, though I haven’t seen him fight before.

From the description we were given, it should look like a small outhouse or storage shed, hopefully one full to the brim of magical knowledge.

Which could be a problem if the others are heavily anti-magic and decide to destroy any magical artifacts they find.

In which case, an ‘ambush’ could suddenly take us unaware, only leaving a couple of survivors.

From what I’ve found though, those who have flexible morals about killing and in particular extreme violence, *cough* Finnian *cough*, tend to be more accepting of magic so long as it’s useful to them. For example, the Sand Scorpions once had a raider who knew a small amount of magic to alter the weather and everyone overlooked it.

Mainly due to it being easier to raid or set up an ambush on a rainy overcast night, albeit more uncomfortable.

Unfortunately I couldn’t ask him to teach me magic without giving away that I knew some myself, which I have gone to great pains to hide.

He died a couple of years ago anyway.

We continue trekking over the rocky landscape for 20 minutes, taking it slowly due to this being deeper into the Forgotten Lands and therefore more dangerous.

I suddenly loose my footing on a large crumbling rock and fall to the ground, lightly hitting my head.

I raise my head, facing the ground, and see a small trickle of blood on a rock, little more than a droplet. I then rub my sore head to locate any bleeding, but find non. I double check and have the same result.

Therefore I further examine the blood to find it already dried. Not mine.

Scanning the ground close to it, the small droplet became to and those two developed into a blood trail going up a small trail, difficult to notice at first glance. I call the others over and take the lead up the craggy incline.

This leads us down once over the slope onto a clearing, though separating us from the rest of the clearing was a sea of thorns, only knee high but it was obvious where the patrol forced their way through from the trodden bramble, speckled with blood and torn material.

On the other side of this was part of the missing patrol, I counted four bodies, half of the expected number.

Though there was a spare arm lying around.

Behind them was a small building of dark grey stone, with faded engravings on its heavy, rusted metal door that could have once been a wondrous work of art. It’s certainly strange that such a small building would be in the middle of nowhere, so it does make a whole lot of sense to be a storeroom.

I begin to walk forward towards the mostly flattened pathway, made by the now deceased but was interrupted by Argus loudly interrupting me.

“STOP!!! Don’t take another step forward!”

I freeze, worried I had stepped on a bear trap or something, and look down to check. (I didn’t, just to clarify)

“That is called devil’s thorn and causes violent hallucinations, probably the cause of the patrol’s reported hysteria.”

I take three steps back before making a reply.

“At least that means the ruins aren’t cursed like we first expected.”

He replies back, with a mischievous grin.

“Who said it wasn’t cursed?”

“hmm. Ok, then tell me how we get past this then”

“Kill it… Kill it with fire!” Argus replies with a hint of glee in his voice.

Idiot was probably trying to sound cool by being dramatic. Not that I’m saying it wasn’t a little cool though.

It took almost an hour to safely burn through the Devil thorn, since we couldn’t inhale it due to it having the same effect to being cut. Though I did borrow a leather pouch from that Halstein guy, who also had the spare supplies to burn the thorns. I used this pouch to store some of the devil thorn, being careful not to get myself killed.

My opinion of him has raised from Invisible bystander to pack mule. Congrats pack mule, feel proud, you deserved it.

Just for future reference, from the information Argus gave me, devil thorn is something that only grows in the Forgotten Lands and is pretty rare. Additionally, it is an ash grey colour and glows a red colour if you hold fire close to it. Also the length and severity of its poison is dependent on the amount and depth of your cuts, so accidentally cutting your finger on it will only make you feel light-headed.

I really should write this down somewhere once I get back to my quarters in the fort.

On closer inspection, all of the corpses have been killed by human weapons and the missing bodies would be on the other end of a larger blood trail.

It appears the lost bodies were dragged away.

I hear a quiet squawk from above and look up to see around 40 Tengu circling hungrily around us, attracted by the bodies.

But they just continue circling. The others have noticed too, and look nervous.

They have eight time our number, why haven’t they attacked us?

Argus speaks up, though somewhat shakily.

“That’s very bad. Very, very bad.”

I don’t understand if he’s talking about the Tengu or some other omen. Perhaps I should ask, but Torben gets there first.

“Why don’t they attack us, is that normal?”

“That my dear goliath, would be because there is a bigger fish in this pond.”

Right on que, we hear a loud, blood-curdling howl that I wish I could say was distant.

But it was close, very close.

“We really need to get that door open, cursed or not!” Pack Mule shout to the rest of the group whilst pushing on the double doors.

“Hells this door is heavy!”

At this point, all five of us are desperately pushing on the door that slowly begins to open. So slowly it makes me want to weep.

I haven’t cried since I was twelve and had accidentally stepped on a tiny wooden building block. But this moment is giving it a run for its money.

After finally making a gap wide enough for Torben to fit through, we all flood in and attempt to push it closed.

At that moment I looked up and locked eyes with a red set, filled with a bestial rage, standing behind it were five more of these creatures.

I hear a horse voice escape Grigori’s mouth.

“… Hellhounds.”

The lead monster was 8ft tall whilst on all fours, while the others were around 2ft smaller.

Its fur was a charcoal black, as was the rest of his body, excluding the eyes. Its body was huge, covered in dense muscle, with a jaw that could likely bite through steel plating with ease, not that I’ll test the theory.

I wonder how long it was stood behind us, waiting for us to turn around, since I never heard it approach and didn’t dare look behind me whilst opening the door.

We all begin to close the door, but with much less resistance than last time and I peek through the quickly closing gap to see the infernal beast much closer than before. Its throat began to glow red, as if it was…

The door fully shuts and I lean heavily on it.

A second later, the door get very hot and I jump back in pain whilst cursing violently. That furry bastard.

Pack mu-… I mean, Halstein pulls out a torch and lights it, revealing a empty room with a metal handle partly inside the floor.

Is it just me or is it getting warmer?

…

Shit!

I quickly grab the handle and turn it clockwise 90 degrees until it stopped and made a clicking noise.

The floor under my feet begins to rumble and I dash backwards off a floor slab that begins to move open.

But not unlike the door, it is too slow and in the meanwhile it is getting extremely uncomfortable in the impromptu oven.

Once the opening is revealed, the others barrel down the ancient stairs, having to duck due to it having a low ceiling height.

I notice the walls begin to glow red and sag before following them, pulling a similar handle on the wall at the top of the stairs, causing the floor slab to close.

It’s amazing that a contraption beyond any technology I’ve ever exists, not to mention that it is still functional after what could have been thousands of years.

It makes me very eager to see what awaits us deeper.

I enter a large room, already lit up by bright torches scattered across the rooms walls. Though this is widely empty, except for large stone tables laid out across the room. I see something metallic on one of the tables, a grey circular ring with metal protrusions of equal size and spacing on the outside of the ring.

Strange, not only the object itself, but the fact it isn’t even slightly rusted after all this time and I don’t detect any magic within it. So it isn’t an enchantment.

I pocket the object and move towards the strange pre-lit torches. Getting close to it I realised it didn’t emit any heat and I could also assume it doesn’t use up the air, making it ideal for sealed underground areas like this. Unlike the metal object, these torches do emit magic and could have perhaps been giving out this cold light for years upon years.

But… How do you turn it off? You can't smother it, and it wont run out of fuel.

I touch the item and pour a small amount of mana into it, causing it to become brighter momentarily.

Perhaps a phrase or word is bound to it, and so I cycle through a multitude of possible words to no avail. It is possible that I’m even speaking in the wrong language and am completely wasting my time.

I looked around to find the others had gone through one of the two new doors and so I ran up, excited on what I’ll find.

This new room was around 10 by 10 metres and had shelving over every wall.

These were filling with lots of scrap metal… Wait no, they may appear like junk, but each of them is uniform and clearly crafted with a purpose.

It just so happens that the intended purpose is completely alien to me.

While the others were fiddling with the foreign pieces of metal, talking amongst themselves about the possible functions. I honed in on three books in the corner of the room.

While, physical items are good and all, forbidden knowledge is far more powerful in the right hands.

Guhahahahah…*cough*

Examining the three books, one was completely destroyed, and the other two were moderately damaged, both of which were in an unknown language.

I’m still keeping them though.

Also, I can’t detect any magic in this room, time to check the other door.

This the others behind me, we walk through the door the leads to a long rock tunnel, with metal braces adding security to the tunnel. After walking for 5 minutes we reach the end, long blocked off from a cave in it seems.

Hours later, we gather at the top of the stairs to check if we can exit. I turn the handle and hear the clunking of metal, which abruptly turns to a long screech before falling silent without moving an inch.

I try turning the handle again and get no response.

“…”

“Well… Get comfortable, for this is to be our tomb.” Argus remarks, with a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Crap.