The sun was beginning to hang low when Draco and his companions finally reached the outskirts of Infodure—a town once known as the crown's pride, blessed with fertile lands and glistening rivers. Now, it looked like a ghost of its former self.
Dust blew through cracked fields, the soil dry and brittle beneath their horses' hooves. Not a drop of moisture clung to the air. The riverbeds nearby had shriveled into muddy veins, their water barely a trickle. Trees that once arched with green bounty now stood stiff and thin, their leaves curled inwards like clenched fists.
≈
Fredric let out a rough cough, his hand pressed against his dry throat. Their journey had stretched too long with too little rest, and the last of their food had been rationed hours ago. Even the horses walked slower now, their breaths heavier.
As they entered the outer edge of town, Draco noticed something unsettling: the streets were quiet. No sounds of chatter, no market noise, no children's laughter. The few people that did appear moved like shadows—wary and gaunt, eyes wide and hollow like they'd witnessed nightmares they couldn't speak of.
Steven, now recovered enough to ride with some dignity, shifted his gaze over the silent buildings and half-collapsed stalls. "I'll ride ahead. See if there's an inn or somewhere we can water the horses," he said, already nudging his mount forward.
Draco nodded, watching him go before turning his attention back to the path that veered toward the farmland.
He and Fredric took that route, hooves crunching the ash-streaked ground. From a distance, they could see them—dozens of villagers combing through the ruined fields. Once golden with wheat, the crops were now scorched black, nothing left but brittle husks. The villagers moved slowly, hands digging through the charred remains as if praying to find something edible.
Draco dismounted without a word, the heels of his boots sinking into the dry earth. He handed his reins to Fredric, who followed suit.
As they approached the villagers, one of the men looked up. By the look of Draco's travel gear and clean-cut bearing, he knew immediately he was not one of them. The man's eyes widened—and without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, ash puffing up around him. Behind him, a woman collapsed entirely, her body curling in as if every ounce of strength had left her.
Draco reached forward, his voice steady but firm. "There's no need to kneel. Stand. Tell me what happened."
The man's lips trembled. He held his wife up, barely keeping her upright. "The trolls… They came without warning!" he choked out. "Tore through our fields. Took what they could carry, then burned the rest!"
His hand scraped against Draco's glove in desperation. "We've been combing through this mess for days. My children haven't eaten since yesterday. I was hoping to find even a few grains—anything."
Draco looked around again, taking in the blackened rows of once-productive farmland. His jaw tightened.
"Where did they come from? Which direction? I need the full story. I'm here to help, but I need to understand what we're dealing with," he said, his voice calm but commanding.
The man glanced at the others who had gathered nearby, then back at Draco. "You should speak to the town chief. Everyone's filed their complaints with him. There are different stories—he'll be able to piece it all together better than I can."
"Alright," Draco said. "Lead the way."
The man adjusted his wife's arm around his shoulder, nodding quickly and guiding them back toward the main road. As they walked past broken carts and abandoned homes, he glanced sideways at Draco.
"Forgive me for asking, but… who are you? Why would someone like you come here just to help a place like ours?"
Draco met his gaze. "I'm here by order of the King," he replied plainly. "I've been tasked to investigate the damage in the outer provinces and ensure the people are being protected."
The man's eyes widened in realization. "So… you're one of the inspection officers."
Steven joined them soon after, having found shelter at what could barely be called an inn—a crumbling structure still carrying the name for pride's sake alone. When he saw the extravagant mansion rising above the struggling town, his eyes, like Fredric's, flicked with the same unspoken question.
Draco still kept his hood up, the fabric casting shadows over most of his face. Despite the ring on his finger that altered his appearance just enough to pass unnoticed, he couldn't afford to be reckless. The fewer people who could describe him in detail, the safer his journey would be. There were too many eyes, too many loyalties unknown—especially in a town with whispers of betrayal.
The trio was ushered into the chief's reception hall—a lavish chamber that echoed too much gold and too little taste. Chief Salvetor sat sprawled on a velvet chaise, legs crossed arrogantly, a goblet in hand and a lazy smirk on his face. He clearly wasn't expecting much from this "inspection."
Upon seeing the three enter, his brow rose slightly, but the arrogance in his posture didn't budge. He looked them over with mild curiosity before speaking. "You look tired from the road," he said, sipping his drink, "Hopefully the dirt of the village didn't slow your journey too much."
Draco took the seat directly across from him, folding his arms as Fredric and Steven remained standing beside him like stone sentinels. His voice was calm but carried weight.
"Chief Salvetor," he said plainly, "we've received complaints from your region—disappearances, burned fields, sightings of monsters. The Crown has sent me to investigate."
He didn't waste time dressing it up.
The chief's smirk faltered a little, though he quickly masked it with offense. "I don't appreciate your tone, lad," he said, shifting his weight like a rooster puffing his feathers. "Servant of the palace or not, your rank doesn't place you above mine. You should speak with respect."
Steven's jaw tensed. His hand brushed the hilt of his sword, the instinct to defend bubbling too close to the surface. Draco noticed and lifted a hand slightly—his silent command to stand down.
"My apologies," Draco said smoothly, inclining his head just enough to appear polite without bowing. "I am Rusia Van Chad, here on behalf of the Crown Prince. My orders are direct—investigate the recent disturbances in Infodure and nearby settlements."
Salvetor relaxed marginally, now that he had a name and supposed title to grasp. He leaned back and nodded, lifting his goblet lazily. "Ah yes… the trolls. They've been crawling in from the Grimsen Woods—across the Wisterland border. Probably some new tactic of theirs to stir trouble without declaring war."
He said it so casually, as if it were common weather talk, not the ruin of people's homes and lives.
Draco studied him silently for a moment before asking, "Have there been past incidents of this sort? Or did these attacks begin two years ago?"
The question made Salvetor pause. "About two years, yes. We'd never seen them come this far into the heartland before that."
Draco nodded to himself.
Two years. That time frame had become all too familiar—right after his mother's death… right after Darius's mother was declared Empress… and not long after he had been officially named heir. Since then, whispers of unrest had begun crawling across the kingdom—small enough to be dismissed individually, but collectively… they pointed toward something much darker.
"What measures has the town taken to prevent these attacks—since they've been happening for two years now?" Draco asked, folding his hands atop one knee. "And is there any account of the destruction you've suffered? What kind? When? How much? Anything we can look at to properly assess the scale?"
Chief Salvetor paused, tapping the side of his goblet with a finger, his eyes darting briefly to the window as if trying to escape the question.
"Who would keep tabs on destruction?" he finally muttered with a scoff. "We're farmers and traders, not scholars with scrolls. Just know that the wheat fields and rice paddies near the river have been ruined since last spring—and the year before that too. The water flow's stopped entirely, likely sabotaged by those damn trolls. We've had to import food ever since."
His tone grew defensive as he went on, slowly turning bitter.
"What else can a humble man like me do?" he added sharply, pressing a hand to his chest in mock sincerity.
Draco nodded once, but his face revealed nothing. "We'll be leaving, then. I'll prepare a full report to submit to the capital."
He stood, bowing faintly—not out of respect, but formality. "Thank you for your assistance, Chief Salvetor."
The chief leaned back again, relief flickering across his face. He lifted a hand lazily and waved them off with an exaggerated farewell. "Safe travels, gentlemen."
As they stepped out of the grand double doors, the warm sun hit them, but the tension still clung to the air like humidity. The wooden steps creaked underfoot as they descended the porch.
Steven glanced over his shoulder, then leaned in close as they walked. His voice was a low hiss. "That's it? After all this distance, all the ruined land, and all we do is take his word for it?"
Fredric gave a small shake of his head, glancing at Draco for direction.
Draco's gaze didn't shift, but his voice was steady. "You think I believe him?"
Steven frowned. "Then why let him off the hook so easily?"
"Because people like him don't panic when questioned. They panic when left to wonder what we'll do next," Draco said, his lips curling just slightly. "Let him think we're leaving. Let him think I'm a fool. The real inspection hasn't started yet."
Steven exhaled through his nose, something like satisfaction flashing in his eyes.
Fredric smirked faintly. "So what now?"
"Now we investigate on our own." Draco said under his breath