Anneliese looked out the window of the carriage, her head resting on her hand. Her other hand played with her hair, which was splayed out on her thighs. The carriage rode across a field of lilies, leaving two trails behind in the pure white flowers. The fields seemed unending. As Argrave recalled, one could only see this field at certain times in the game—fall. They bloomed near the end of fall.

“A pretty sight,” Anneliese commented. “Like snow, but… alive.”

“Yes, very beautiful,” Argrave agreed, staring at Anneliese. “As we move ahead, they’ll begin to turn red, and beyond that, wilt. That means we’re growing closer to the cavern.”

Her amber eyes switched from the scenery to him. “Erlebnis told you this?”

“He doesn’t tell you so much as reach into your head and place things there,” Argrave responded. “Unpleasant yet convenient at the same time.”

She crossed her legs, placing her hands atop her knee. “For an agent of Erlebnis, you don’t seem to rever—”

“Now that we’re getting this close, we should really discuss the plan for these insects.” Argrave shut the book he held in his hand, changing the subject. “These bugs, they’re called Lily Lurkers locally. They’re the reason this field is so largely… undisturbed.” Argrave set his book on the carriage seat, and Galamon slowed the horses to hear his words better.

“The nearby village’s young couples would have late-night rendezvouses at this place when the lilies bloomed because the moonlight reflects beautifully off the white flowers. Now, at night, those bugs roam the field like supersized ants, ripping people apart.” Argrave pointed.

“You know, ants can carry…” Argrave paused, struggling to remember the number. “…100 times their own bodyweight… if I remember right. They’re strong. These bugs, they’re the same way, except they weigh about ten pounds and have a paralytic poison stinger. They’re around the size of my head.”

Anneliese nodded, a frown disturbing her face. “You mentioned they come out at night. We must’ve come here during the day to attack them while they’re in their… burrow. Burn them out, perhaps.” She waved her hand as she offered the example.

“A plausible solution,” Argrave agreed. “But the underground caverns are large enough it would be difficult to do either. Burning them out or using water might collapse the cavern, too. We need to go inside. This task requires precision.”

“Entering the cavern would be suicide,” Galamon contributed. “Tight spaces… perfect for those bugs. Impossible to kill when they’re in large numbers.”

“Both of you…” Argrave spread his arms out, shaking his head as though ashamed. He clapped his hands together, though the sound was muffled by his gloves. “Such mindless killers. Violence isn’t always the answer.”

Both of them looked at him like he was mental.

Argrave carried on, unaffected. “Fact is, we can’t butcher this whole colony of Lily Lurkers. Waste of time to even try. Would take weeks, maybe a month, if we tried to kill them off one-by-one without any casualties. Their numbers are too high. Originally, I had been thinking just the same as you two, and consequently dreading this task. But these bugs—they have to eat, no?”

“Poison,” Anneliese caught on quickly, and Argrave confirmed with a nod.

“Plausible,” Galamon commented. “Don’t think poisoning counts as non-violent, though.”

Argrave waved his hand. “Mere semantics.”

If it had been the game, no such option would be available to Argrave. One follows the quest marker, goes into the cave, kills the bugs—end of quest. That option would probably be much more fun… were this a game, naturally. Argrave would much sooner jump off a tower and be done with it than walk into a cavern infested with Lily Lurkers.

“Even ants have instincts,” Anneliese responded after some consideration. “These bugs, if they are like ants, won’t eat poison even if it is laced into something they will eat.”

“We use a slow-acting poison they don’t recognize. It’s all just trial and error.” Argrave spotted some discontent with that statement, and he quickly added, “All of the other ideas are terrible—this one is at least worth exploring.”

“True,” Anneliese agreed. “But we brought no poison.”

“Listen.” Argrave leaned forward. “I might forget some elven ruin’s name, or the precise name of a cavern, or the exact number of pounds an ant can carry. I can promise you, though, I definitely won’t forget a single recipe for poison. I wrote thousands of articles about alchemy, be it the ingredients or the final product. It was unimaginably tedious.” Argrave tapped his temple. “This mind of mine is all we need to make every poison creatable in Berendar. We’re deep in the countryside. Shouldn’t be much trouble to get what’s needed.”

“Why did you write thousands of articles?” Anneliese asked after a long pause.

“That’s a good question,” Argrave acknowledged with a nod. “I’m not sure myself. Masochism, perhaps. We’ll get back to that. For now…” Argrave turned his gaze towards Galamon. “Galamon, turn left. Hard to brew potions in the middle of a field. We should head for that village.”

Argrave peered out the carriage window. In the distance, he could see a field of red that made it seem as though the lilies had turned to roses. The sight set a flame of anxiety alight in his chest. This would be the first time he tried something major that was beyond the constraints imposed by ‘Heroes of Berendar.’ It could be said Mateth had already been an example of this, but Argrave did not feel that was his victory alone.

“A village, hm…” Argrave muttered. “It might be time to bring up the Blackgard name once again.”

#####

The village of White Edge was typically a very quiet place. Not many lived here, particularly because they were so far from any source of water or civilization. They paid homage only to the Count of Jast, who himself was sworn to the Duchy of Elbraille. They did not have much to offer to the Count in way of taxes, and consequently, protection was insignificant as well. Still, some minor families persisted here, growing what few crops could be grown without a nearby water source.

The houses in White Edge were of better make than most of the villages one might find in the countryside. In way of simple plank walls and straw roofs, these buildings were well-constructed and near uniform in design. They looked fanciful rather than sturdy. When coupled with the well-kept hedges in yards, the place had an altogether idyllic air.

An old man sat on one of the porches of the houses, chewing at his thumb’s nail as he tapped his feet quickly and anxiously against the porch. He was missing a few of the teeth on the right side of his mouth, and significant balding left him with only a ring of gray around the top of his head. He occasionally cast glances at some of the people working at harvesting the last of the crops grown in autumn, but besides that, his gaze remained fixed on the sole dirt road leading to the village from the forests.

The old man’s tapping feet came to a stop, and he leaned forward until he was sitting on the edge of his chair. After a few seconds of watching, his eyes narrowed, he stood and walked off the stairs leading to the porch. He strode across the village square with purpose. A few people in the village watched him rush by curiously. In the far distance, a wooden carriage moved closer. The old man and some few others gathered to watch the carriage come in. In a small town, someone arriving by carriage was undoubtedly a notable event.

Perhaps they’d be less welcoming if they knew that Argrave had circled around the village before rejoining the road. He assumed it would not be especially appreciated if the villagers knew he had left trails of carriage wheels and horseshoe marks along their favorite romantic gathering spot.

Argrave looked to Anneliese, who had her hands in her lap as she waited quietly. “No issues with the plan?”

“Doesn’t involve us much anyway,” Anneliese shook her head. “Your methods are strange, but you have come this far, so I will simply follow along.”

“That doesn’t exactly ooze faith,” Argrave commented. “Well, faith is earned, I suppose. You’ll be singing my praises by the end of this,” Argrave half-muttered as he looked out the window.

“I’m sure I will,” Anneliese nodded.

Argrave glanced at her to be sure her amber eyes weren’t rolling. “I’ll be charitable and assume you’re not being sarcastic.”

Anneliese smiled lightly and said nothing further as the carriage started to slow. When it came to a stop, Argrave pulled back the door’s bolt and pushed open the door, alighting onto the road. Above, Galamon leapt from the top of the carriage, and it shifted when deprived of his weight. Argrave stretched and moved his joints about, freeing himself of the stiffness from the ride. Anneliese gathered the books in the carriage and walked around to the back, placing them with the rest of the luggage.

“Excuse me,” an old man said, walking before Argrave.

Though the old man looked like he had something more to say, Argrave spoke quicker. “Are you Bertrand Guill, the one who sent the notice to Jast?” His voice was serious and low.

The old man paused, looking up at Argrave and his company. “Yes, I am,” the man said, his voice slightly strange on account of his missing teeth. “You’re from Jast? You got my notice, then? You’re the help?”

“Yes. I’m Wizard Argrave of Blackgard.” Argrave retrieved his Wizard’s badge from the Order of the Gray Owl, making it shine by willing some of his magic into it. “This is my pupil, and the other is my guard, Galamon. I’ve come by order of Count Delbraun to deal with those creatures you mentioned.”

Bertrand held out a finger badly bent from arthritis. “I told everyone that this was a serious matter that Jast couldn’t ignore, and everyone didn’t believe me!” he shouted back to the crowd some distance behind him. The people started to approach and gather in front of them. It was not an especially large crowd—seven or eight. They all had to look up at the three of them.

“Why’re you with elves?” one asked, some suspicion in his tone.

Argrave ignored the question. “It’s a good thing you did send notice. It’s a better thing that I’m the one who got it. These creatures… ‘Lily Lurkers,’ you called them?” Argrave waited for Bertrand to nod, and then proceeded. “They’re Dextromorphous Exocellcynes. Very troublesome creatures.”

Argrave surveyed the crowd. No one seemed to have the slightest idea the grandiose name was entirely fabricated. “Ordinarily, I’d have more colleagues with me. As it stands, most everyone in Jast is preparing for the civil war.”

“War?” someone echoed. “What’re you talking about?”

“Margrave Reinhardt of House Parbon has declared war against the royal family in an attempt to end their tyranny,” Argrave explained succinctly. “But that is a long way off, and Jast has maintained neutrality in mirror of their liege lord, the Duke of Elbraille. More importantly, it’s not why I’m here.”

The small crowd was unsettled. Beyond them, more people started to approach, and the crowd grew larger yet.

“These bugs in your lily fields need to be dealt with,” Argrave said brusquely. “As such, Count Delbraun has given me leave to enlist your aid.”

“You want us to fight those bugs?” one of them said as though the very idea was ridiculous. Even Bertrand, the most vigorous amongst them, shrunk away from Argrave’s words.

“No,” Argrave said. “All of you would be worthless in a fight. Even a High Wizard of the Order wouldn’t be able to fight a colony of Exocellcynes easily.”

“Wizard, sir, and no offense to you…” one of the men of the village said, stepping forward, “But we’re dealing with the harvest. We need to finish harvesting the last of the crops before winter entombs us. These bugs stay to the lilies, and I see no need to stop the harvest.”

Argrave nodded, gritting his teeth. He stepped forward. “Have you ever dealt with rabbits? Moles, perhaps? Even ants? All of them surely ate your crops at some point or another.”

The man nodded. Argrave leaned down to the man’s face. “And you learned that, when you see a rabbit, a molehill, or an ant’s mound, they need to be dealt with before they spread into your crops and pick them clean. These creatures in your lily fields are much like those three, though as I’m sure you’ve noticed, they don’t eat your crops or your lilies. If it were just that, the Count wouldn’t send someone like me.”

Argrave straightened his back and walked around the crowd. “Right now, they nab a stray deer, or the odd couple who goes to the field without having heard the warnings. Each life they take enables them to be more. They lay eggs and multiply like any other bug. It’s the lily fields now. But soon enough, cows will vanish from their pens, the fences eaten away. Your dogs and cats will vanish—not because they ran away, naturally.”

“We… don’t have cows, sir Wizard,” Bertrand interrupted.

“That simplifies things,” Argrave continued undisturbed. “They’ll skip my preceding descriptions and head to the final step. As their colony grow more and more, their appetite will find their way to this village. They’ll wear all of you away as a locust plague does a field of wheat,” Argrave said grimly, turning to the crowd with a finger held out.

“A death at the hands of your ‘Lily Lurkers’ is not an easy one. Those three tails on their back—two are for sensing things, but one is a stinger that causes paralysis. They drag you back to their burrows like an ant might a peanut. Your gut will begin to rot with pestilence as you lay there, awake and conscious but unmoving. You’ll turn into an easily digestible mush for the bugs and their young. It takes a week to die, and I assure you, it is not a painless thing.”

Argrave let his words settle into the crowd for dramatic effect.

Once the crowd was riled, Argrave continued. “I’ve heard tell of it happening overnight. The Exocellcynes storm the village quietly in one line, just like an ant might. Come morning, all of the beds are stained in blood and poison, and the fields are left with no one to harvest them,” Argrave finished, looking back to the man who’d initially dismissed Argrave’s proposal.

“So, people of White Edge. You have three options.” Argrave held up three gloved fingers, counting down. “Abandon this place, die in this place, or help me. The work is not especially difficult, I assure you. As farmers, it may indeed come naturally to you.”

With his words finished, a silence took over the crowd. It was probably a lot to process, and so Argrave did not grow dispirited. He waited, watching as the people spoke amongst themselves.

“Retired here with the kids thirty some-odd years ago, and certainly not about to abandon it.” Bertrand said enthusiastically. Some people nodded in agreement. “This is White Edge. Built this place from the ground up, we did,” he urged the crowd, riling them up.

“I’m glad to see I didn’t waste my words,” Argrave concluded. “You should gather everyone else, catch them up to speed. My pupil and I have to prepare some things.” He looked to Anneliese, finding it difficult to conceal a smile in wake of his performance.

#####

“How much of that was true?” Anneliese inquired as Argrave stowed away the lockbox inside the carriage.

“The only fabrications were the name and the overnight abductions,” Argrave answered, ensuring things were locked tight. “Those two little mistruths were designed to make them amenable to my guiding hand—makes it seem like I have experience with this matter. The poison also doesn’t rot your insides, but it does paralyze.”

Argrave locked the carriage’s compartment and turned to Anneliese and Galamon behind him. “If we didn’t get involved, I suspect they’d just be forced from their homes. Might take years, though. But… who cares, it worked. We have a temporary labor force to help gather the ingredients I need.”

“Now, we start our experimentation.” Argrave pulled his gloves tighter. “I feel like a travelling scam-artist. I guess I’m not doing anything wrong, exactly.”