Noble Arcana

“You can’t trust the trees.”

Old Drakthic Saying from the Elven Conquest

They entered the forest on the main path. While the trees had been cut back at one point, they now grew over it, creating a canopy that shrouded the path in shadow. There was something unsettling about the woods. Solomon felt as if there were things watching him from the edges of the path just out of view, and the intertwining branches seemed to create menacing figures in the shade.

They walked for just about a half hour before Colm stopped.

“Let me just check a trap over here.”

Solomon nodded and watched Colm disappear briefly off the main trail. He waited, scanning the forest. He wasn’t used to the sounds of woods. The chirping of birds, the rustling of things in the brush, and buzz of insect wings. It set him on edge, but he kept calm. His eyes scanned the far end of the path and for a moment he thought he saw something run quickly along the ground.

Colm emerged from the woods with a fox in his hand. It was dead, but there were no obvious marks on it. A broken neck, Solomon guessed, to better preserve the fur. Once he was out of the woods he calmly tied the fox to a loop on his pack.

“Well done,” remarked Solomon.

Colm nodded. “A lucky day so far.”

Colm started walking along the path again and after just a few minutes they reached a break in the path.

“The first logging camp is here.”

Solomon nodded and followed him as they walked down the side path until it opened up into a clearing filled with several structures. He carefully inspected each of them. The tools had been cleared out, and the buildings themselves were in rough shape after not being in use for so long. He could still see a number of stumps a short distance from the clearing where the logging had taken place, but now there were young trees all around them.

“The logging here ended before the mining did, right?” asked Solomon.

“Aye. Loggers pulled out. Weren’t making enough profit, they said.”

Solomon nodded. Like the mining, the main reason that logging had stopped was that the profit simply wasn’t there, but unlike the mine there hadn’t been a terrible accident and rumors of a curse to speed things along. The logging in Moonfallow had stopped being sufficiently profitable for two reasons. The first was that the logging of the living forests of the elves created far more profit and so became the focus, and the other was the trees in these woods were too high quality. The richest wanted only living wood, and the poorest mostly relied on cheaper wood, which left a much smaller market for high quality normal wood. What market was left was served better in areas other than Moonfallow, so it was the first to be culled. Now that the living forests were nearly completely cut down and there were many more merchants and men of wealth without titles, Solomon believed that logging could be profitable in Moonfallow again.

Once he was satisfied he approached Colm, his eyes still scanning the woods. His feelings of unease had been steadily increasing.

“Let’s head straight for the mine next. I’ll still pay you as if you showed me the other sites.”

“Works for me,” Colm replied and they walked back to the main path. From there on it was primarily a straight walk for another half hour. Solomon saw a few other branching paths, and they needed to cut around a few areas where debris and overgrowth had cut things off, using smaller trails to move around them. Solomon was tiring and could feel his shirt clinging to him from sweat, but Colm maintained the same steady pace at which he’d started.

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Eventually the path widened and the trees broke to reveal the mine. Solomon could see old crates with rusted hinges, pickaxes and shovels that had been thrown to the side and grown over by roots, and even what looked to be the skeleton of a horse. In the center of the clearing there was a large stone outcropping into which a large tunnel had been dug.

Colm moved over to a small rock and sat, drinking some water while Solomon searched the area. He spent a good amount of time looking at the tools that were scattered about, and then he moved toward the tunnel itself. He carefully lit his lighter and took a few steps inside. He could see a number of large rocks obstructing things further in. He walked further in until he could see where the mine itself had caved in. It looked like it would be possible to remove the rock, and as he’d suspected the mine had been originally built using only techniques such as fire-setting. With more modern tools they could’ve definitely pulled more from it. He’d need to commission a more in-depth survey, or work through a company to do so, but it looked as if his initial assumptions had been correct.

He looked around along the ground where the collapse had happened and saw a stone twinkling from the light coming through the entrance. He reached for it, picking it up to examine it more closely. The stone had several dots of dark blue metal all throughout. It was manarite. Solomon pocketed it to examine in more detail later and walked back out of the tunnel, closing the lighter as he reached the exit.

He stopped in his tracks.

Standing in the center of the clearing was a broad man with dark hair hanging in dirty clumps from his head. His dark eyes were filled with madness and the remnants of a blue suit clung to him along with mud, dirt, and thorns. It was the former mayor, Neiman, clutching a rusted pickaxe in his hands.

Solomon gripped his walking stick and stepped forward.

“Mayor Neiman, you’re looking well,” he said as he scanned the surroundings. He saw Colm clutching his head, seemingly in a daze, but alive. The woods around them seemed to be darker, and the trees themselves seemed to be almost leaning toward him. His mana was roiling and pulsing, as if it was reacting to the changes around him.

“You bastard,” said Neiman stepping toward him.

“I’m no bastard. You and your brother though… well I’ve heard some rumors around Moonfallow since you fled.” Solomon wanted Neiman off-balance. He knew the man was larger and stronger than he was, but he was also certain he was unaware of what Solomon could do.

He brandished the rusted pickaxe. “I am going to shove this through your skull, and drag you back to town. Then I’ll go back to your manor and fuck each and every one of those pretty little servants you keep to yourself.”

“Churlish,” responded Solomon as he raised a hand with his fingers straight down, then flicked them upward until his palm was facing Neiman.

A gust of wind backed by as much mana as Solomon could muster blasted forward, throwing a surprised Neiman back across the clearing until he was nearly at the forest’s edge. There he lay still.

Solomon let out a breath. He had been wondering where the mayor was, but he’d presumed the man would flee to Etling. Hiding in the woods didn’t fit the image Solomon had of him. He assumed he had underworld connections given the massive amounts of fraud he’d committed, not to mention the trafficking of young women from the town. He also seemed a man that enjoyed his creature comforts, not the type that would choose to rough it in the woods.

Solomon had questions for him, but before he went to check that he was alive he walked over to Colm. The man was clutching his head and breathing heavily, but was trying to push himself onto his feet. Solomon helped him to sit back on the stone he’d been sitting on earlier. He had a wound on the back of his head that was bleeding and his eyes seemed unfocused.

The young noble walked around to examine the wound. He began to focus his mana and attempted to infuse it into the man’s blood. He felt immediate pushback and the mana dissipated. He tried again, focusing harder and moving more mana into the man’s blood. He found his thoughts wavering and his mana draining quickly as he did so, with the majority of it draining within Colm’s blood almost immediately after he pushed it in. Still, he somehow managed to infuse enough of his mana that he could gesture with an open palm in a half-circle, causing the blood to clot and the bleeding to stop.

Given his disorientation, Solomon didn’t think he’d remember what he’d done. Besides, Colm was his responsibility, it was his duty to ensure his safety, even at the risk of his own secrets.

Solomon made sure the man could sit up on his own before he turned to look at where Mayor Neiman had landed. What he saw made his blood run cold.