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[Blade Master Model 42]

"What? What else could we do with it? I've no interest in bargaining for a truce with Prixima." Valor folded his arms across his chest, eyes narrowed. "...You're not thinking of trying to actually use the dragonstones, are you? We don't have the first idea of what they can do, beyond speculation... Right?"

[Gamerboy4life]

: "Noble? If the item is what we think it is, who says we have to bring it back to Mannan?"

"Mannan does. Or do you want another bounty in Berebia, too?"

"What? What else could we do with it? I've no interest in bargaining for a truce with Prixima." Valor folded his arms across his chest, eyes narrowed. "...You're not thinking of trying to actually use the dragonstones, are you? We don't have the first idea of what they can do, beyond speculation... Right?"

"I doubt she is. Honestly, I'd wager that these stones are still alien to Prixima and Mannan both. How would we find out what to do with them?"

[freeformschooler]

"What? What else could we do with it? I've no interest in bargaining for a truce with Prixima." Valor folded his arms across his chest, eyes narrowed. "...You're not thinking of trying to actually use the dragonstones, are you? We don't have the first idea of what they can do, beyond speculation... Right?"

: "I'm more interested in keeping magical artifacts away from the hands of nobles in general."

[Blade Master Model 42]

: "I'm more interested in keeping magical artifacts away from the hands of nobles in general."

"Look... Nobles are just like anyone else, but with money. They can be bad... And they can be good. Personally, I'd sooner have a dragonstone under castle guard than in one of our pockets. Besides. Mannan seems alright. And he's opposed to Prixima. For me, for now, that's good enough."

[Haspen]

After some quarrels and talks, the group decided to try and wrestle the box, and, whatever is inside, from the possible agent of Prixima. So they've set out.

To Fierre.

~~Chapter 9B: The Box of Silver~~

To catch the box, the group headed to Fierre, a small border town, dangerously close to the regions of the fighting between the two nations locked in bitter war of hatred.

For two days, the mercenary group ventured east, and then south, through the snow-covered roads. As they proceed, they could see the tracks of Joz's group, and the innkeepers and merchants mentioend seeing a group of horsemen under command of blue-haired beauty.

They were quite fast in their march, but alas, they always seemed to miss the other group by the matter of hours, maybe even less.

Soon however, they've got themselves to a forest, behind which - according to a lone woodcutter - Fierre lies. They've gotten to the end of the forest, without problem.

And it was very, very quiet.

~&~

The group trudged through the fresh snow that fell this morning, the white powder crunching under their boots. They've just wandered between two long piles of snow, when suddenly...

Raquel tripped.

And Derick, who was walking right behind her, could easily see what she tripped over.

Human, blood-stained hand, still looking fresh and pink despite the cold. From the nearby pile, some fingers were sticking out as well. There were corpses under the snow.

Many corpses, it seems.

[Furtuka]

Derick swore and helped Raquel up.

"Please don't be them please don't be them"

He kneeled down and started brushing away the snow.

[Haspen]

Derick quickly brushed away enough snow to notice that the unfortunate dead man wore red cape, just like one of the Joz's sages, and that said sage had a tattoo on his neck.

That was definitely Hans, the healing mage. He was laying on his stomach, but the large wound in his back was more than obvious.

[Powder Miner]

Alexander regarded the corpses and Derick's frantic scrabbling.
: "...Damn."
Then he began looking for any leftover enemy troops, or tracks. They couldn't be far, and if they wished to stop Prixima, they needed to be careful. Not miss any opportunities, either.

[Furtuka]

Derick sat silent for a moment before scrambling to check the other corpses, looking for Joz and Matilda in particular

[Sirus]

"This looks pretty bad. What happened here?"

It was a rhetorical question, of course. Gregor began checking for survivors, though he didn't have high hopes.

[Haspen]

The tracks that led toward Fierre were numerous now. Approximately double the 'usual' amount - someone must've came back here or something like that, from the village. There were even marks of something heavy dragged back, and those tracks ended right at the snowpiles.

There were no survivors, and none of the corpses that Derick managed to uncover from the piles looked like either Joz or Matilda. Most of the corpses had large puncture wounds - few bodies still had arrows embedded in them.

And then Gregor noticed the color of the fletchings on the arrows - dark green. It was Menelean.

[Sirus]

"Blast. Now the only question is if they were attacked by a regular army unit or someone a little less official."

He grabbed one of the arrows and looked around. "Any of these bodies in Menelean uniforms?"

[Powder Miner]

: "I'll scout ahead, it's not like I'm going to get picked off by an arrow."
Yes, do that. Scout.

[Haspen]

There were no bodies wearing Menelean uniforms.

Alexander went forward and looked around, quickly finding, just behind the corner, the body of Swordmaster Joz, sitting against the tree. His hands were still clutching on the thin, magical sword from the tomb, said balde now broken and the metal ahve lost it's magical shine. The snow around Joz was red from the amount of spilled blood.

"You're... late..." Alexander suddenly heard those worse, coming from said body.

[Powder Miner]

: "Shit! Derick! Ami! I think it's... the mercenary swordsmaster! And... he might be alive, but he won't be for long!"
Give him a vulnerary or other healing product, if I have one. But do make sure he's alive and it's not something else going on.