“I think we’re missing something here…” Alexandra quietly said.

“Not likely. I triple-checked our bags before we left,” Ekkehardt responded. The two of them were riding in a convoy of horses and wagons through the countryside of Nordfell. They were somewhere in the middle of the convoy, but they were given enough room to quietly talk amongst themselves. The second in command, Bob, was leading the convoy, and the quartermaster, Fahim was in the rear. Excluding Alexandra and Ekkehardt, there were about fifty people traveling in the convoy.

Alexandra shook her head.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” She responded, “I just feel like our timeline doesn’t fit together as neatly as it should. Count Claudius said that there was a moonman in Nordfell during the Time of Red Snow fifty years ago. Given what we know, that makes sense. Moonmen tend to appear during periods of great human suffering and the Time of Red Snow fits that description perfectly.”

“Okay, what does this have to do with our timeline being off?” Ekkehardt asked.

“Well, the problem is that Count Claudius won the war and restored peace and some level of prosperity to his county. I looked at the tax and crop yield data that Schumacher gave us. According to that data, there was an increase in taxes collected from and crops produced in Nordfell during the years following the Time of Red Snow. Lumber exports also increased during this time. Furthermore, Count Claudius was able to levy a small number of soldiers and send them west to help fight against the Osminite invasion that took place about thirty-five years ago. This trend would continue to the time of the Weisshart murders and through to present day. Our current theory requires the moonman in the Frauenwald to have been created during this period after the Time of Red Snow, but that doesn’t make any sense,” Alexandra argued.

“Well, maybe it came to Nordfell from somewhere else,” Ekkehardt suggested. Alexandra shook her head.

“I don’t know about that. The rest of the empire was rather prosperous during that time. It might have come from somewhere out in the steppe, but we don’t really know what happens out there, so we can’t prove that an event similar to the Time of Red Snow happened. Furthermore, the steppe is very sparsely populated; barely anyone lives there and those who do are nomads. If moonmen are attracted to high concentrations of human misery, then it would be difficult for that to happen with few people around,” Alexandra responded, “Besides, the theory that we are working with here is that Weisshart and the Frauenwald are of particular importance to this thing. That’s why it returned here after all of these years.” Ekkehardt scratched his head.

“Now that you mention it, there is another issue with all of this: The sword. Peșteră Agonică, the cave that this sword is supposedly in, is pretty close to Weisshardt and the Frauenwald. Why would the moonman chose to hide in place so close to a weapon that is built for killing it?” Ekkehardt pondered.

“Maybe it didn’t know about the sword?” Alexandra suggested.

“Unlikely. If this area is of some importance to the Cursemaker, then surely it must have been very well acquainted with it and known about the sword. Maybe it’s some sort of trap,” Ekkehardt responded, “People say that Peșteră Agonică is very dangerous. Perhaps the Cursemaker made it that way and used the sword as bait to lure people in.”

“I don’t think so. First off, if the Cursemaker wants to create as much human suffering as possible, then surely he would have better ways of doing it than putting a trap in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Second, we don’t actually know if the Cursemaker is capable of these things. The only power we know he has is the ability to command people to do his bidding,” Alexandra argued.

“Well, if it’s not a trap and it’s not a mistake, then what is it?” Ekkehardt pondered. Suddenly, a thought shot through Alexandra’s head.

‘Perhaps it wishes for death. Perhaps it wants someone to go into the cave, take the sword, and use the sword to kill it,’ she thought. Alexandra then shook her head without saying anything, ‘No, that doesn’t make any sense.’

The road turned to the left and suddenly a strange sight came into Alexandra’s view. To the right of the road the forest had given way to a shallow, man-made depression. It was similar to a quarry, but not nearly as deep. The depression couldn’t have been more than one or two imperial paces below the ground that Alexandra’s horse was standing on. Alexandra estimated that it was roughly thirty imperial paces wide and thirty imperial paces long. The entirety of this pit was filled with large black stones that jutted out of the ground like trees. Each one of them was incredibly reflective, not unlike a mirror. It took her a second, but Alexandra was able to figure out what this place was.

Ekkehardt couldn’t help, but turn his head towards the depression. Without Ekkehardt doing anything else to signal his curiosity to Alexandra, the young princess detected his concern and began to speak up.

“I believe this was once a site that Count Claudius’ father used to mine obsidian,” Alexandra explained.

“Oh. So this pit must have been dug for arrowhead production,” Ekkehardt replied. Alexandra shook her head.

“No. I don’t think that was the case. The count’s father wanted to start making obsidian mirrors and exporting them to the rest of the empire. His plan was to provide a cheaper alternative to the metal mirrors that were in use at the time. This whole plan would unfortunately fall apart. I had read that this was due to the fact that glass-makers in Strivalia discovered a cheaper way to make good quality mirrors with lead glass around that time, but I now think that the Time of Red Snow might have had something to do with it,” Alexandra responded. She then turned back to Ekkehardt.

“Where is this talk of arrowheads coming from?”

“Oh, that’s just because of some anecdote my father told Siegfried and I about during one of our archery lessons. If I remember correctly, during the last Osminite invasion, the sultan’s army besieged the capital of Remina. The city’s garrison received some reinforcements and supplies from Nordfell and that included a few hundred arrows. Unfortunately, most of these arrows had obsidian arrowheads, which made them nearly useless against the Osminites,” Ekkehardt explained.

“Wait, why would they be useless? An arrow is an arrow,” Alexandra interjected. Ekkehardt shook his head.

“No, not exactly. An obsidian arrowhead will shatter upon contact with most types of armor. When dealing with iron arrowheads, there are a lot of variables that you have to factor in when determining whether or not it can puncture armor, such as range and armor type, but generally you get significantly more utility out of iron-headed arrows than obsidian-headed ones. Now, the majority of the Osminite army had some form of armor, so any obsidian arrows that got shot at them were about as effective as a strongly-worded letter of complaint.” Ekkehardt elaborated.

“Hm… Maybe they repurposed many of their unsold obsidian mirrors into arrowheads during the Time of Red Snow? You can do that, right?” Alexandra asked.

“Yeah, I think that would be possible. It would make sense, especially if the Bergmen they were fighting didn’t wear any armor. They must have run out of iron-headed arrows and resorted to using obsidian. The arrows sent to Remina might have just been what they had left over from that time,” Ekkehardt posited.

Alexandra’s horse passed by a large slab of obsidian sticking out close to the road. As she passed by the stone slab Alexandra stared at her dark and murky reflection; deep in thought as questions shot through her head. What other secrets were hiding in Nordfell? Was Cedric of Sortpool the person Count Claudius said he was? Was she strong enough to find the truth?