The scenery gradually changed as we traveled down the dirt path, shifting from sparse copses of trees to thickets, and eventually to a full-blown forest. Overhead, the trees grew tangled and intertwined, with something silky and blue shimmering between the branches. To my eyes, it looked like spiderwebs, which put me on high alert. We had won against two, but I didn’t really want to test my luck against any more—at least until my health and mana had fully regenerated.

  Another change was the ground underneath us. It shifted from firm, packed dirt to damp and muddy, almost swamp-like. The trees went from towering and noble to gaunt, tangled, and threatening. It reminded me of a haunted forest from a children's movie. The gentle whisper of wind turned into the hooting and hollering of unseen animals, and the beautiful flower bushes gave way to wretched, prickly thorns.

  After an hour or so of walking through this nightmare landscape, I caught my first glimpse of Manor Pauvert. Again, I couldn't help but be reminded of a haunted house from a children's movie: tall, ornate spires, shuttered windows, and wooden, creaking stairs, all surrounded by a spiked metal fence. In what functioned as a courtyard, I saw the carriage that had carried us until we were so unceremoniously abandoned, the two horses off-leash and grazing from a feeding trough.

  One curious thing I noticed was a lack of servants. I wasn’t an expert on nobility or wealth in either world I had lived in, but I figured a place of this size should be teeming with workers. Indeed, behind the main house, I could see a smaller longhouse that was almost surely quarters for workers, but I didn’t see any figures moving by candlelight or coming and going. Maybe they were all in the forest, working on his harvest? I suppose there was only one way to find out.

  We entered the gate and Mug knocked on the tall, narrow door. After a few moments, the oldest man I had ever seen answered. He might have been tall, except for the hunch in his back that nearly halved his height. He wore a shabby black suit that was fraying at the edges, and his eyes were nearly the same color as Keggr’s: milky white and maybe unseeing. The hair on his head was stark white and unkempt, swept around his pate like thread on an egg. His wrinkled hands did a slow-motion clap as he looked at us, trembling like a leaf.

  “Ahh… yes… the master… has been… expecting… you. Do… come in.” Every word seemed to take herculean effort, and even though I didn’t have any olfactory abilities, I could nearly taste and smell the stench of time on him. Mug gave me an uncertain look before following me in through the doorway.

  Pauvert was lounging on an old couch, a wet rag across his forehead. He had changed shirts, probably on account of the bloody nose Mug had accidentally given him. Stelheim sat in a cushioned armchair, his expression the same smug look I had grown to hate. On our entrance, Pauvert opened one eye, observed us, then closed it again, waving his hand at the old man.

  “Thank you, Pierre, you may attend to your post. And you, Lugenhelm. What took you so long? We’ve been waiting here for hours! I’m not paying you to sightsee, you know.” I had never really been quick to anger, but the entitlement dripping off Pauvert made my theoretical blood boil, especially since he had abandoned us at the first sign of danger. I shot a note to Stelheim, who I also hated but was marginally easier to deal with. He read it aloud for Pauvert’s sake with obvious enjoyment.

  “‘My apologies, Warden of the Silken Forest! We were left behind to fend for ourselves, surely by accident I’m assuming, and it took some time to get here without a horse or carriage. I promise, the next time we are left for dead I will be sure to move with more haste.’” Pauvert looked up sharply before sinking back into his couch, a blush of embarrassment in his cheeks.

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  “Well, that was… well, seeing as you are a great spirit and all I figured… and the goblin, they’re known for being slippery… I’m more of a managerial type as opposed to a brawler… but very well! Well done! I assume you have slain our foes? Now you see what I contend with here, Lugenhelm! The monstrosities of this land plague me in such horrid forms! This is what has put a stop to my duties—beasts such as those have risen from the lands and attack us day and night!” I was impressed; he managed to bury his shame rather quickly. I sent Stelheim another note.

  “It says, ‘No apology necessary or offered. So, what else can you tell us about your operation? Where are the workers? Soldiers? Are those strands in the woods what I think they are?’” Pauvert sighed and sat up, steepling his fingers in front of him. Why is it that the worst, least informed person you know is always steepling their fingers? Did they think it made them look smart?

  He went into detail about his operation. Apparently, he had a crew of fifteen who tended to and harvested the silken willows, but as of now they were offsite, waiting for the danger to be gone. His home was protected by magical enchantments, so he didn’t need soldiers here, but he had hired a group of soldiers that were currently in the woods attempting to clear a path to the largest copse of silken willows. Right now it was just him and Pierre, who stood silently to the side like an animated gargoyle. Hell, in this world he might be an animated gargoyle. He certainly had the posture of one.

  He also told us that he was on a time crunch. The willows had to be harvested within the next week, or the monstrous spiders would use the silk for their nesting and make the whole operation unusable. Apparently, the spiders had always been in the woods, but besides eating a stray maid or servant boy, they had generally kept to themselves. Before recent events, they had only harvested the highest, most unreachable strands of silk for their webs. They had also been smaller, and this new size and aggression was a new development.

  Finally, he had Pierre fetch an aged, yellow map of the estate. Pauvert traced a path on the map to show us where his largest section of trees was to the north, downstream from a large lake.

  “Make sure to not go towards the lake! I must warn you, that is where the deadliest, most aggressive, and vile monsters lurk! If you value your, er, metal, or the life of the goblin, you will stay the path I have marked!” He tried to sound authoritative, but it came out squeakier and more frightened than I’m sure he meant. Well, that was okay with me. I had no problem listening about staying away from a dangerous place. Except…

  In video games, when you start in the middle of the screen with an arrow pointing right, you always go left first, right? Sure, sometimes it just meant wasting a few minutes, but often it meant finding some rare item or treasure or starting gold. His telling me to not go to the lake meant that we definitely had to go to the lake. Also, I just didn’t want to listen to this prissy, entitled baby. I never thought of myself as an egotistical man, but Pauvert brought something out in me. Maybe it was the way he ordered me around, or never acknowledged Mug, but I just felt like sticking it to him. I gave Stelheim a final note.

  “It says, ‘Very well. My squire and I shall begin first thing in the morning. In the meantime, we will require food and lodging that I’m sure will be afforded and also not deducted from our final percentage of pay. Do not worry, we will definitely solve your problem or your money back, haha! That was a joke! You have not paid us yet!’” Pauvert sneered and lay back down on his couch, covering his eyes with his wet rag.

  “Yes, yes. Pierre, show them to the guest room and provide the goblin with… whatever it is goblins eat. Mud? Is it mud? Well, we can start with mud and go from there. Do not bother me for the rest of the evening; I have had a long day of travel and must recover my spirits. I bid you good day.” With that, Pierre motioned to us and began his slow, painful walk up the stairs, each step looking like it might be his last.

  Stelheim also stood up and walked towards the door. He bowed deeply to Pauvert with faux humility, then waved at me cheerfully. “Until next time, Detective! Good luck!” Then he was gone, out the door and merrily strolling through the gates, eschewing the carriage and horses. Well, that was a high-level blood mage for you. "Detective?" asked Mug, confused.

  'Trust me, it's confusing even for me. Let's just go.'

  We followed the elderly Pierre one painful step after another into the darkness of the second floor.