“Finally! We caught up to the bastard,”

“Don’t count your lucky stars yet,” Came a feminine tonation, “It’s luring us into its den,”

The figures spoke softly. Eight of them in total, outfitted in green cloaks, cloth masks covering their faces. Any other indicator of their identity were expertly crafted bows slung on their backs.

The bow had intricate marks and a flowery cursive text inscribed on it. Scholars would recognise it as a type of elven text. Text of wood elves to be specific. One could see their stupendously incredible espionage skills just from this fact alone. Truly marvellous!

“Sigh, if only the council wasn’t so slow, we could’ve intercepted the bastard beforehand, before he got more allies,” Another one sighs.

“Yeah, who cares about diplomatic relations? We should all be banding together against these fiends!”

It was evident by the mood of their conversation that they despised the heretics. Which was only natural, considering that the heretics are the common enemies of the undivided realm.

“Still, it also pisses me off how these humans keep letting the heretics breed amongst their own!” He continued his rant.

“Yeah, but they were also the ones who had the most success weeding them out in immemorial times,”

The elves of the southwestern forests of Kram were what could be considered to be the human equivalent of a Kingdom. Under one administrative body, they governed the forests, and while their relations with the Astra Kingdom were terrible, after much debate, they ended up sending a small elite strike force to perform a dragnet on this heretic and his accomplices. And by elite, they meant elite. Six of the total gathered were of the Steel rank, with the other two at Gold. They were not taking chances. Though because of this, they needed to be covert, despite their good intentions. Sending in this many high level combatants into foreign grounds was certain to rouse suspicion no matter how noble the cause.

Their goose chase eventually led them to the city of Joost. A border city, nearer to the Pantheon vassalagem than elvish territory. Very far from home.

And yet, they would stray even farther still.

“Kyahh!”

A squeal cut short all talk in the camp. The poor elf barely even had time to yell for help, before blood clogged her lungs and she slumped to the ground, daggers planted through her torso, like the small sprouts of a sapling.

“Who are you?!”

Blue flames stared back, it was a ragged suit of armour, worn and torn, a semblance of what it once was.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you fellows here,” He grated, the voice was enough to send one into a shivering fit. The deathly aura that shrouds him only adds to this veil of threat, “Though I guess I should check what my pal Jeff’s up to shouldn’t I? Hmm, that can wait though,”

Whirling his daggers around, he cuts his idle chatter as his aura thickens another fold.

…

“Hellooo there! I’m the travelling flower vendor. Would you be of interest in my wares, perchance?” The slender man offers in a muffled treble.

Decked out with a pimp cane, a tophat, a black bird mask, and the iconic dark overcoat. He shows me a satchel of his wares, which consist of numerous enthralling flower variants. Looking at his profile, I had to say, he looked exactly like those black hats that guards are trained to keep an eye out for. These guys looked extremely suspicious and were cautionary targets. Though, I had a feeling I could trust this man, prompting me to reply in a measured tone.

“I’ll take a rose,” I’m not especially a fan of flowers, but after I was enlightened to the world of flowers by Lacer, I couldn’t help but feel he had something good.

“A rose hmm?”

“Though may I ask if you have any black ones?”

His eyes seemingly light up beneath his leather mask, “Ah, I can see that you are interested in the exceptionally rare, my fellow compatriot!” He fiddles with some of his coat compartments before he pulls out a slender rose stalk. A shade of deep purple in colour, nearing black, “It’s a gift, for the man of culture that you are,”

Hmm, what a nice guy. I’ll be sure to test this thing’s taste later. Oh, you wanted some, Lily? Fine.

“My good sir, could I trouble you as to the local garden here?”

Garden? I wasn’t a part of the florist’s community so I had no clue that this city even had a garden.

“I’m afraid I’m new to this city,”

“A pity,” The man sighs, “How about we both go searching for it? After all, the lasses you brought along would appreciate it much,”

I guess girls do like flowers, huh? Or do they?

“I like them,”

“Flowers are garbage!”

I got two differing answers, but we all know which one I’m prioritising.

Thus, we begin our hunt for the gardens of Joost. Though I do have to ask one thing, “Why are we in the snickets?”

“Where else would we find the garden?” Dok’s voice approaches a near shrill pitch as he states something ‘obvious.’

Well, I didn’t know florists were like some kind of underground community. But then again, seeing the kind of flowers Lacer has, I had to think otherwise.

“Hmm, I was aware that the gardeners in Joost were extremely discrete, but I didn’t fathom that it was to this extent,”

“So no garden?”

“Sigh, not yet, we’ll just have to keep looking,”

And so we keep looking but to no avail. I’m starting to doubt the existence of this garden.

“Keke, are you friends lost?”

I want to facepalm at this point. This is probably the fifth time we ran into this cliché turn of events.

Though as I clean up yet another mess, I notice a strange oddity. Peeking out from the lid a trash can, I can’t make out his face, but I have a hunch on this person’s identity.

“Laffer?”

“Yes?” With a jolt, he pops out of the can in a rain of garbage, “Finally, I found your ass!”

“You were looking for me?”

“Oh, is this one of our friends?” Dok perks up.

Ah, I forgot Dok is still here. I should introduce him.

“This is Dok,” I say simply, “He’s a flower man,”

“You mean plaguebearer,”

I don’t know what that is, but Dok ain’t a plaguebearer.

“He’s a flower man,”

“I’m a plaguebearer,” Dok admits.

What? Now I’m mega puzzled. I look to Lily, she’s also puzzled, and Lazari just stares back at me. Good.

“Wait, are you not a deathoath?”

“He is, but he’s also a sped,”

I’ll take that insult for now, but you better explain what’s going on.

“Okay, y’know how there’s four branches of the dark arts?”

I do, yes.

“Those that practice the plague branch, are called plaguebearers,”

Oh, now that I think of it like that, that makes sense.

“And us, who practice the charnel branch, are called deathoaths. And also for your reference, take note that those of the ruination and desiccation branches are called ruiners and desiccators respectively,”

Mhmm, that also makes sense. This comes as a pleasant surprise, as it is not often in life that things make sense. Such is the mystery of existence.

“So what’s a garden?” I’m assuming it doesn’t mean what I think it means.

“Wait, you didn’t know?” This time Dok butts in.

I clearly didn’t.

“Then how did you know the code,”

“What code?”

“You didn’t know?!”

“Just ignore it, Dok,” he puts a hand on Dok, “Jeffrey’s stupidity,” He pauses, “It generates gravity,”

Rude. There are lots of things I can pick out from that sentence, but there is one thing I want to clarify first is,

“What’s gravity?”