The rain started coming down faster than anyone could have expected. Normally, Agnes would have pulled out one of her more 'unorthodox' contraptions to deal with the inconvenience, but Saul was still trying to keep up the appearance of an upstanding citizen.

"It's just not right! No {Shieldbearer} should have that much knowledge of Systro!"

"We get it Harold. Can't you just eat the bread before it gets soaked?"

Agnes was fairly certain that the act wasn't going to fool anyone for long, but it seemed important to Saul that his niece stay on the up-and-up, so no complaints would come from the Dwarven side of this ruse.

"Harold's really going on about that. I still think it would be better to let them in slowly."

The Elven side of things still had some reservations, however.

"The kids aren't getting involved in this, Clive. We agreed on that."

"I know, but telling them doesn't actually mean involving them."

Saul turned to glare at Clive on his mount of supplies.

"You haven't even told me what's going on. Why in Systrem's name would I want you to start telling them?"

Clive went quiet after that. Seemingly satisfied, Saul went back to steering down the muddy road. Every bump in the road or particularly slick patch of mud reminded Agnes of why she was usually the one in charge of the cart.

"Agnes told you what!?"

Then there was Harold. Agnes was starting to think he was an old geezer disguised as Bill's son. Not even Tip, head of the Dwarven Union, was that much of a stickler for the rules. Then again, there was a big difference between high society and the outskirts. Agnes had heard somewhere that most of the devout followers of the Church of Scrolls came from outside major cities. She shelved the thought for now, thinking it much more important to focus on the new rumbling that just started.

"Hey, Saul? Could you let Agnes take over for a bit? I don't think the fragiles can handle this much shaking."

"That's not the cart, Clive."

"Then what- oh, right..."

Agnes leaned over to join the conversation. "Now would be a good time for a certain tarp."

Clive nodded vigorously, but Saul only scowled.

"We had a deal, Agnes."

Agnes shrugged. "Keeping up appearances won't matter if we're five feet under a pile of mud."

Saul groaned. "Fine, but keep it discreet."

"You have fun with that," Clive called out over the growing sound of rumbling, "I'm going surfing!"

"Clive, wait. You can't-"

Clive launched himself over the side of the cart, heedless to Saul's objections. Most people would have cried out before landing face first in the mud. Clive simply slid his feet through the straps of a shield and held his hand out toward Agnes.

"Agnes, please tell me he didn't do what I think he did."

Agnes started pulling a length of rope out of one of the bags she had prepared. Wrapping one end around her hand, she tossed the other end to where Clive was landing. Clive snatched the rope out of the air with practiced ease, and his shield started dragging through the mud.

"Oh, he did it alright."

Saul slumped over the wheel in defeat.

"You know," Agnes continued, "As long as we're already breaking character..."

"Fine!" Saul cried. "Make all the spectacle you want; see if I care!"

Even as Saul started having another breakdown, Agnes couldn't help but grin. In one swift motion, Clive had taken off all the shackles that Saul wanted to keep up around these kids. The rumbling gave way to a sharp crack, and Agnes' grin grew into a full-faced smile.

It was time to show these kids what real adventurers could do.

***

Harold was having a mental breakdown. First, a {Shieldbearer} had tried to convince him that his gramps' teachings were wrong. Then, that same {Shieldbearer} had started teaching Systro, of all things. Now, Clive was sliding through the mud as the world fell apart around him.

There was no way this could get any more wrong.

"Charge it up, Saul!"

Suddenly, the rain stopped. Harold looked up to see a tarp floating over the cart. Sygils lit up the underside with fierce intensity. Another crack sounded out, and the tarp stretched to cover the entire cart.

"What was that!?"

A firm hand grasped his shoulder, and Harold turned to find Solomon's steely glare upon him. Where silver hair once was neatly combed to the side, a wild tangle of mud clots threatened to mess up Harold's new clothes.

"You will keep silent," Solomon seethed, "or Agnes will keep you silent."

Harold opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Agnes.

"Prairiegrass and laxberry leaves, right Robern?"

Harold had never seen Robern's face pale so quickly before. That was all Harold needed to shut his mouth for good. Eventually, the tarp lifted back to it's spot in the air, and the sight of the once calm prairie made Harold's hair stand on end.

Before, there had been lines of cracking mud keeping pace with Clive. Now, a hoard of strange mole-beasts was decemating the landscape. Harold thought that the name mole-beast hardly did them justice. Massive forearms with three wide talons each was one thing, but the almost human eyes and large fins in place of legs were downright unnerving. Harold would later swear that he saw one wink at him.

"Yaaaahoooooooooooo!"

A very muddy Clive had found his way on top of one of the smaller beasts, and was clinging onto a fistfull of bristles as he wove through the mud and flew over rocks. After a bit of bobbing and weaving, Clive's ride soared over the cart. If not for the tarp stretching out to protect them, everyone would've been coated in mud by now.

"Clive! I hope you're ready to explain yourself!"

Clive started patting down the back of his mount. "You know the rules, Saul! We've got a duty to check these guys for-"

Clive cut himself off as his eyes wide.

"Trackers..."

Clive pulled one hand away from the beast, revealing a mass of worms in his grip. Harold wasn't sure what was so worrisome about a bunch of worms, those things were traveling through the mud after all, but both Solomon and Agnes had immediately sprung into action.

"Take the wheel, Agnes!"

Agnes scoffed. "You use the wheel for this baby?"

"Not the time!"

"Oh, there's my Saul! I missed that guy!"

"Really, guys, not the time! Or do you actually want us to die!?"

Agnes was busy twisting knobs and pulling levers that Harold had never noticed before, and Clive only shrugged. As for Harold, he wasn't about to let this opportunity go past him.

"So I guess everyone can use Systro now! Great!"

"Agnes!"

"On it!"

***

When Harold came back to his senses, he was greeted by a billowing blue tarp.

"Anyone else feel like testing their luck today!?"

The silence of his friends was not comforting to Harold. As he stood to see what was going on, a burst of wind knocked him onto his back again.

"Stay down, or your head's gonna get an eighth hole."

Harold really wanted to just sleep and forget this day ever happened, but that last assertion had him really nervous. Just what was out there that deserved this much caution?

"Clive, get over here!"

"I can't! The worms are in my hand!"

"Then let them go!"

"No, Saul! They're in my hand!"

"WHAT!?"

Before any more words could be exchanged, a sickening crunch moved through the air, followed by a wet sucking sound.

"Worm horde, front and center!"

"Clive, I know that look! Don't you dare-"

"It's too late, Saul! Get the kids out of here while you still can!"

Before Saul could protest, a garbled cry sounded out right in front of the cart. Without another word, the cart swerved off the road and onto the rocky hills of the prairie. The cart lurched to the side before coming to a stop entirely.

"Everyone out!" Agnes called. "I need to make repairs!"

Harold tried to get up, but found that he couldn't out weight on either of his arms. Agnes ended up dragging him out so she could tend to whatever wounds he might have had. That was yet another thing that made no sense today.

"Make sure he can see this, Agnes."

Agnes turned Harold towards the road before starting to work on the wad in his mouth. It took several minutes, and a set of tools Harold hadn't even known existed, before she simply reached into his mouth and pulled. Harold nearly threw up from the quick expellation of... something, but looking at the thing was what finally made him keel over.

It had a tail.

Once Harold was finally done, he was led closer to the road, where he could see the strange chase.

"Look closely, kids. This is your world now."

The worm horde looked more like a snake than a worm, constantly sliding back and forth to try and reach its prey. That prey just so happened to be Clive riding a mole-beast.

"The worm horde," Saul continued, "Is known for only one thing: It's relentless pursuit of marked prey. When Clive grabbed that fistfull of worms, they burrowed deep into his skin before dying. That then left a permanent marker within his palm. Even if he was able to survive until sunrise tomorrow, which is highly unlikely given he's riding a female, he would never be able to return to the prairie. If he did return here some day, the horde would be ready with a multitude of pitfalls leading directly into its gaping maw. The horde crawls at an impressive 200 lengths, and is comprised of millions of finger-sized-"

"Saul," Agnes interjected, "I think they get it."

There was a long moment where only the pouring rain dared to make a sound.

"Is there anything we can do?" Robern tentatively asked.

"Not with this crew." Came Agnes' reply.

Harold was left speechless. He was horrified by the reality of such a monster, but also relieved. This never would've happened to Clive if he had been following the rules. Now his heracy would recieve it's justice.

As Harold watched the horde lunge for a final strike, he couldn't help but wonder what was in store for the rest of the /Solaris Company. Were they going to turn over a new leaf or meet the same fate as their friend.

The horde lunged for Clive, and he dodged. Breaking one of the fundamental rules of the {Shieldbearer} had given him a few more minutes to live.

"Oh, come on!"

It was then that Harold found the rather disgusting gag filling his mouth again.

"Harold."

Harold turned to make a muffled retort, but was stopped by Saul's glare. The rain wasn't the only water that drenched his face.

"You're lucky Bill was your grandfather, or you would be getting much worse."