“This is the Flat Fields.” Zanorin pointed to the vast plain that seemed to spread endlessly in the horizon. “The Notitia Region is a bit weird when it comes to its topography. It’s either fully flat and almost deserted like this, or it’s thousands of meters high mountains that are the well-known Notitia Peaks. There is no middle ground. No little mounts or forest. Flat plains or gigantic mountains. That’s it.” He explained.

“How do people even live here if it’s desertic?” Mahon asked.

“Humanity always finds its way.” Zanorin laughed. “It’s desertic to the untrained eye, but when you know where to look you can find everything you need. And the mountain isn’t as inhospitable as it looks. It’s actually much better than the plains.”

The three men were walking side by side, and Zanorin was pulling the reins of a bardot, a hybrid of a horse and a donkey. The animal carried most of their provisions and equipment. Mahon and Jorik only had their weapons on them, and a little backpack with water and food for the day so they wouldn’t need to unpack the bardot until night.

“Why aren’t we going closer to the mountains, then?” Mahon enquired, while he looked curiously to the giant silhouettes whose tops disappeared behind clouds.

“Because that’s where most tribes reside.” Zanorin explained. “The plains are safer. You can see anyone coming from afar, and with the right knowledge they’re easy enough to cross. For a small group of people like us, it’s the best compromise. We’ll wander closer to the mountains only when we reach the Silent Bow Clan’s area.”

Although desertic in wildlife, the plains weren’t as empty as one could think. A path weaved through the plains, parallel to the mountains, and it was common to meet people going back and forth. Some fearless inns stood along the way, at regular intervals.

According to Zanorin, they all belonged to an ancient tribe that terrorized the plains until they realized it was better to do business with the travelers than steal them. They built inns and used their reputation to scare any other tribes off the road. They guaranteed a relatively safe passage to anyone who would meander on their road.

The days passed quickly, and even though the journey was very similar to their boring months in their last caravan, they had Zanorin and his endless amount of stories to keep them company.

Their guide always had something to say about where they were and the history of the region. Half of the people they met on the road were known faces to Zanorin, and they often ate with another guide and his group. Life on the plains was rude, but it seemed the people living there got used to it, and they developed a natural behavior of helping others and living frugally in respect to their environment.

It kind of reminded Mahon of his home. In Ratho too, they were dependent on their environment, and their choices and way of developing was always in regard to it. The only difference was that in Ratho they had no other choices but to adapt to survive, whereas people living in the Notitia Region stayed by choice.

“It’s nice to remember what a mattress is after a few days camping. We’ll sleep here tonight.” Zanorin pointed to a small inn a hundred meters away. “And also the innkeeper is a good friend of mine.” He added with a smile.

The Inn was closer to a house than a real inn. The innkeeper, his wife, and their teenage kid were all living there, and they had extra bedrooms and a wide living room for their customers. Two guides and their groups were already occupying the inn when Zanorin arrived, but the mansion was big enough to accommodate them all.

“Zanorin!” The burly innkeeper exclaimed as soon as they opened the door. “I thought I recognized your ugly face from afar, and it was indeed you!”

“I see you haven’t changed your glasses, Simon.” Zanorin retorted tit for tat. “But it’s probably better this way. You might have a shock when you wake up in the morning and realize you’re the ugliest of us.”

The innkeeper chuckled before he walked to Zanorin and hugged him. Mahon could have sworn he heard a bone crack and feared Simon would kill their guide in his embrace.

“Three rooms?” He asked Zanorin after a quick glance at Mahon and Jorik.

“And a warm dinner!” Zanorin nodded before he moved towards the stairs. “The violet one?”

“It’s already been rented.” Simon shook his head.

“Really?” Zanorin asked with a surprised look.

Simon shrugged. “A young lady came a day ago. Asked for the violet room. I couldn’t say no.”

“Who is she traveling with?”

“No guide. She’s on her own. A strange one, that girl. You will see her at dinner, probably.”

Zanorin muttered something about unconscious people and the younger generation before he went to drop his pack in another room. Mahon and Jorik followed in tow and went to their respective rooms. They were small, with just enough space for a single bed and a chest, but they were clean and cozy.

Dinner took place in the large living room. Simon and his wife dressed a long table where everyone could fit and served the meal directly on the table. It was a stew with some meat from a nocturnal animal living in the Flat Fields.

Everyone was sitting at the same table, whether it was the innkeeper and his family, Zanorin, Mahon, Jorik or the other guides and their groups. Only the lone woman who had taken the violet room was absent, as she had apparently asked to have her dinner in her room. They hadn’t seen her yet, but the more Zanorin heard about her, the more curious he was.

Apart from that, the mood was very relaxed and friendly. The guides all knew each other, but they didn't end up sharing anecdotes on their own, leaving their clients alone, instead they helped create a lively atmosphere by discussing with everyone.

The innkeeper was a genuinely nice guy, and he made sure everyone was feeling comfortable and had enough to eat on their plates. Although very similar to many nights Mahon and Jorik had spent on the Hasty Dolfin III, there was something refreshing and different in that evening.

They didn’t talk about business nor were they among important people. They were all travelers, simply happy to meet new faces and take a break in their journey. And thus the diner felt more intimate and friendly.

“Dad… I don’t feel well…” Simon’s son said with a little voice that was barely audible among the others’ loud conversations. “Dad…”

His sentence was interrupted midway. He vomited blood all over the table before his head fell directly into his plate, and he stopped moving. A deathly silence followed the scene before everyone moved at the same time. Or tried.

The innkeeper fell from his chair while trying to get up, and Zanorin struggled to even move his arm. A few travelers simply collapsed on the floor while others crumbled on the table, blood pouring from their lips.

Only the most healthy people managed to stay standing, although completely paralyzed.

“What… the f…” Simon managed to say before a feminine voice froze them all.

“Poison, my dear.”

“You… But…”

“Nothing personal.” She almost apologized. “You just happen to be on my way to these two.” The mysterious lady of the violet room pointed at Mahon and Jorik who hadn’t moved either.

“Dirue.” Jorik said between clenched teeth.

“Oh, you can speak too?” Said the young athletic woman who had traveled with them during months on the Hasty Dolfin III. “It’ll not last long, though, don’t worry.”

She slowly approached the table, avoiding the people dying and convulsing on the floor on her way.

“We call it the deadly kiss.” She spoke leisurely, as if she wasn’t in the middle of a death scene. “No antidote known. The effects start an hour after being ingested. Complete paralysis in a minute. Death in three.” She enumerated with evident satisfaction.

She stepped over Simon’s wife who was lying completely still on the floor and moved to a seat directly in front of Mahon and Jorik.

“Excuse me.” She said as she pushed to the side a dying traveler and sat at his place. She then stared right at Mahon and Jorik with a pleased smile. “Poison. Really the supreme weapon, don’t you think? You thought yourselves invincible? You beat a magician and two sorcerers if I’m to believe the rumors. But here you are. At the mercy of a poor, innocent lady.”

“Why?” Mahon asked with a grimace.

“Oh, come on! You killed Ill Immortals and thought you would continue with your life unimpeded? You messed up with the wrong people.”

“Why imply them?” Mahon clarified with a head gesture to the twenty dead innocents laying in different postures around them.

“Them?” Dirue laughed out loud. “Collateral damage. I poisoned the entire stew. I couldn’t afford to miss you with the poison.”

“And yet you did.” Jorik commented with a growl.

“What do yo… Wait. Why are you still able to talk?”

She finally realized the two men didn’t seem worried at all. Instead, they looked sad. Sorrowful. And angry. What she had mistaken as pain from the poison were actually twitches of anger. The rolling tear on Mahon’s cheek wasn’t from his lost struggle against the poison. It was grief.

Dirue jolted up and tried to escape, but Jorik was quicker. He jumped over the table, grabbed a knife and stabbed the woman in the same swift motion. He gave her no chance. The knife ran all the way through her throat, and the flames she had started to invoke turned into smoke as she died instantly.

Mahon and Jorik were the only survivors, saved by their mysterious immunity to poison.

They let Dirue’s body rot in the wilderness away from the inn while they properly buried the seven-teen victims the next day. They didn’t say much during the whole operation.

Both Mahon and Jorik had seen their fair share of dead people. Some good, some bad. But it had always been on a battlefield where both sides could defend their lives. It never happened so suddenly. Inside a peaceful house, at a lively dinner, with absolutely no chance of striking back.

Some places should always stay out of reach. Inviolable. But not for the Ill Immortals, apparently. It only reassessed Mahon and Jorik’s will to get to the bottom of this. Was it really their kind who had given birth to such an immoral organization?

Mahon and Jorik quickly agreed not to come back to Greencoast Harbor. Hiring another guide in this big city would only endanger more people for their sake. And Zanorin had been chatty enough to provide them with enough information about the Flat Fields.

It was indeed almost impossible to find water and food if they weren’t trained about living in the Flat Fields, nor knew the environment very well. But it was also true that they were inns most of the way up to the Silent Bow Clan. They were spread within only a few days of walking from each other.

But walking had never been Mahon and Jorik’s forte. They preferred running. They were endurant enough to run at a moderate pace for most of the day. If they had light backpacks, they could probably cover the whole distance between two inns under a day. Since they were all on the same road, they would have no issue at all about directions.

They could simply run to the next inn, refill their water and food, ask about how far they were from the Silent Bow Clan, sleep there, and repeat on the next day. They didn’t need to be familiar with the Flat Fields if they could run from safe place to safe place.

Since it was already the middle of the day, they decided to wait for tomorrow before applying their new strategy. They took the time to sort their backpack, and they freed Zanorin’s bardot. They buried all the equipment they would leave on site in a chest about a hundred meters away from the inn, so they could get them on their way back if needed.

Finally, they grabbed enough food and water for two days, just in case something went wrong, and went to sleep. They rose just before sunset, and they started running, side by side, when the sun slowly appeared on their left, above the distant Notitia Peaks.