Chapter Three: Breadcrumbs

The door to the shack Morgan had left the lizardkin in had been broken down from the outside, the handle and chain had been cleaved clean and left broken on the floor.

Morgan squatted down before the scene and picked up the chain. The uneven break had her think the metal was not carefully cut with a tool, but broken with a heavy weapon like an axe, or even smashed by stone or forcefully pried opened.

Art looked down to Morgan and asked, ‟Was anyone else here?"

‟An elf woman," Morgan replied. ‟But she was locked in with the lizardkin."

‟You locked her in with a possible killer?"

Morgan got to her feet and let out a confused sigh. ‟They were lovers, she told me."

A calm question followed. ‟And you trusted her?" Art's was accusatory, but her tone held no malice, which stung Morgan for her failure even more. ‟She might now be a kidnapping victim."

Sherl stepped in to investigate the scene. ‟It doesn't matter. They couldn't have gotten out from the inside anyway. Someone else came to their rescue." Her eyes quickly scanned the scene, then she turned to the forest and pointed. ‟They went that way."

Art asked, ‟And you know this how?"

The detective's finger lowered to a patch of grass before them. The path was well-worn, so any traces of newly stepped leaves would have blended right in. Watson approached the patch that his partner pointed at, and the group noticed the speckles of white on the otherwise withering green.

‟Breadcrumbs?" The doctor questioned.

‟Sawdust," Sherl corrected. ‟From the sawmill."

Art decided, ‟That's where we'll go."

‟That's where you'll go, miss knight. I'm staying here. Not much of a nature-person."

‟It's true," Watson reinforced. ‟She'll burn the forest down."

‟Well, as Commander of the Knight of the Round, I will have to insist you assist in our investigations," Art commanded.

‟Or what? You'll detain us? We're not citizens of Tinderland. Unless you care to spark an international incident." Sherl gave a snide grin. She took her pipe out and lit it to smoke as she confidently headed back to the village. ‟Besides, all this just reaffirms my theory that the killer isn't the lizard, so I'll be in the morgue actually investigating, if you need me. Come along, John!"

The tired doctor gave a sigh. Turning to the knights, he gave a bow. ‟I'm sorry. I'll talk to her about her attitude."

Morgan answered frankly, ‟I doubt it'll help much."

He laughed. ‟Don't I know it." He then trotted after the detective.

Morgan turned to Art. ‟What now?"

‟We'll just have to continue alone. Let's follow the trail as far as we can. It should get easier to track them once we reach the denser parts of the forest." Art replied.

The two knights made their way towards the trees, following the sparse trail of sawdust. As they entered the forest, though, the clue dissipated quickly into the bushes. They managed to find 2 more traces of the dust, before the trail ended abruptly into thickets.

Morgan knelt down to find other fresh tracks. ‟The ground seems disturbed, but there aren't any fresh prints."

‟Don't look for footprints. Look for a trail like that of a snake."

‟Snake?"

‟The lizardkin's tail drags behind them when they move, and naturally sweeps aside any footprints they leave behind," Art explained. ‟And if the girl was taken hostage, she would likely not be on her feet, or subjected to the front or middle of a group. Any lizardkin behind would likely have swept away their steps."

Morgan quickly found the newly described trail and got up to follow. ‟You know a lot about them. Have you met them before?"

Art followed her into the dark. ‟More than that. I'm an elf. I was alive during the First War as a squire. We traded blows more than once after they turned to the god of shadows."

‟Sorry about bringing it up. I know you don't like talking about the war."

‟That's fine. Our job now is far more important. To keep the peace we fought so hard for, and to prevent an invasion like that from ever happening again."

The deeper into the forest they go, the less of twilight was left to light their path, and Morgan could not shake the feeling that they were being watched. As the dark of night sets in and the shadows crept closer, that sense of forebode intensified.

‟Art..."

‟I know."

The white knight raised her left hand with palm opened to the skies. Slowly, a ball of white light formed, floating above her wrist. The light grew brighter, extending from them outwards into the shadow. In the darkness, glints of irises snaked back at them.

They were surrounded.

Morgan instinctively summoned her sword and got into a fighting stance, but the figures in the dark did not move.

Art calmly announced, ‟A murder has been committed on Tinderland sovereigns, and a lizardkin is suspected of the crime, along with the kidnapping of a village girl. You will hand the culprit and hostage over to us, or face the judgement of the Knights of the Round."

One of the figures in front of them began to move closer into the light. The lizardkin that walked out had dark onyx scales and a bright red sclera that bled through the shadows. A brown leather tasset was held up by stained birch cloth, and bagged shorts that ended at the shin, with the creature's clawed feet extending out. It stood at full straight height, as tall as Morgan, the tallest of the pair, with a stone spear hanging from its back.

‟The kin and woman are under our protection, per their requessst," the lizard spoke with a granite voice.

Art asked, ‟You expect us to believe the girl came to you willingly?"

‟She asssked usss for sssafe-haven. It isss to our knowledge that our kin and her are one."

‟You would protect a murderer?"

‟If you can provide usss evidenccce of it, we will gladly hand our kin over for your judgement. But not a moment until then."

‟You are in Tinderland territory. What makes you think you can negotiate?" Art pointed.

‟We have lived in thisss foressst for hundredsss of yearsss. Even if not recognisssed, we will protect thossse who ssseek out our sssanctuary."

Morgan could see Art thinking, and a rare scowl crossed the knight commander's face. She had never seen Art so unreadable in diplomacy. The commander was a charismatic individual, more on the side of talking than of fighting. But she watched as Art's free hand slowly closed into a sword grip.

‟Proof of life, then," Morgan quickly interjected. ‟Show us the girl is alive, and of free will, and we can discuss further cooperation."

The silence that hung in the air cut through even the whispers of the forests. It was as if every creature in the trees were holding their breath. Then, Morgan saw Art relaxed.

‟Yes," Art agreed. ‟Proof of life and will. Anything else can wait."

The lizardkin before them let out a breath, his tongue flicking as he did so. Then, his shoulders relaxed, and he slouched entirely, losing an entire head of height as his spine curved into relaxation. The figures in the shadows flickered and slithered out into deeper forest, leaving the 3 alone.

‟Very well. Follow me." Without another word, he turned and trailed deeper into the forest.

Art and Morgan exchanged glances and a nod before following the lizardkin inside. It was difficult to keep their eyes on the onyx scale within the darkening night of the trees.

‟Morgan," Art said. ‟Thank you."

Surprised, the cracked-faced knight asked, ‟What for?"

‟I do not know what happened to me earlier, but I was about to lose my cool and attack. Your diplomacy saved us from a fight."

Morgan was left speechless. She was the hotheaded one out of them. She drew her sword first. She was the one most likely to step around the corner and attack before talking, to strike before thinking.

She reaffirmed her leader, ‟You would not have lost yourself either way."

Art smiled. ‟That's very kind of you. But I do not know if I can live up to your expectations."

‟You're the woman who saved me. Before I am a knight, I am your squire."

‟You trust me that much, huh?"

Morgan cracked a smile across her cracked face. ‟With my life."

‟Touching..." The lizardkin they followed voiced back. ‟I guesss I have you to thank too for not essscalating. Morgan, wasss it?"

‟That's Dresden. Morganna Desden."

‟Dresssden." The lizardkin smiled keenly, its sharp teeth a fang in the side. ‟We do not have names in our tribe, only titlesss."

Art asked, ‟And what is yours?"

Fading in and out of the shadow, with eyes of ghostly red and white, and scales that seemingly lived in the dark, the lizardkin felt more monster than mortal. ‟I manage the land in which my people live, though sssmall. Thusss I am called their Landsss Lord."