A Trail of Blood in Iron Anvil Town

The Slag Inn stood as the sole operational lodging within Iron Anvil Town. It was less an inn and more a vast, ramshackle shed, offering only the most rudimentary shelter from the elements. Its low roof, perpetually darkened by years of coal smoke, contributed to an atmosphere thick with the mingled scents of cheap ale, stale sweat, and decaying, damp wood. Dim oil lamps cast their wavering light upon the walls, struggling to illuminate a few askew tables and chairs, and the slumped forms of vagrants dozing in the corners.

Rachel, Vera, and Ruby clustered around a greasy table, positioned marginally closer to the hearth’s meager warmth.

Vera delicately sipped her warm, insipid vegetable soup, a futile attempt to dispel the persistent chill that clung to her. Ruby, in stark contrast, sat rigidly upright, her back deliberately turned to the majority of the patrons. Her amber eyes, even amidst the gloom, maintained a watchful, sweeping gaze, reminiscent of a nocturnal feline predator. Her black and white maid dress, however, seemed starkly incongruous in these grimy surroundings.

Rachel, her appetite entirely absent, had barely touched the bowl of soup before her, its surface shimmering with a suspicious film of grease. Her fingertips drummed unconsciously against the rough tabletop, emitting a series of dull, rhythmic taps, as her vacant gaze fixed on the faint, flickering embers within the hearth.

The Raven Guild’s branch in Iron Anvil Town had abruptly ceased operations for reasons unknown, effectively derailing their carefully laid plans. A pressing question loomed: What was their next move? Could they make for another Guild branch, or would such a detour consume too much precious time? Was there, perhaps, another course of action entirely?

“My Lady.”

Vera, her voice hushed and tentative, gently broke Rachel’s deep contemplation.

“Shall we… depart first thing tomorrow morning?”

Rachel was on the verge of nodding when the distinct chatter of several local miners at an adjacent table pierced her thoughts.

“…Even Master Barton from the Guild is missing? Heavens, what in the world is going on!”

“Tell me about it! Not a trace, alive or dead! Just like his stewards, vanished overnight!”

“Shh! Keep your voice down! Don’t let those folk from the north hear… who knows what they’re mixed up in!”

“What’s there to be afraid of? The Guild members all fled, nailed the doors shut! Didn’t even leave a fart!”

“Didn’t they say the Guild sent word to headquarters? Why hasn’t anyone come to deal with it yet?”

“Who knows! Maybe headquarters got scared too! This cursed place, I don’t think we can stay here any longer…”

Rachel’s drumming fingers instantly stilled on the tabletop. Her previously vacant gaze snapped into focus, sharpening with the precision of a honed blade.

‘Barton! Missing! Stewards! The Guild doors, nailed shut!’

She subtly inclined her head, effortlessly capturing every nuance of the adjacent table’s conversation without betraying her interest.

Within moments, Rachel had pieced together the entirety of the situation.

The Barton they referred to was none other than the head of the Raven Guild’s Iron Anvil Town branch. In recent days, the town had been plagued by a spate of mysterious disappearances, culminating, just days ago, in the inexplicable vanishing of Barton himself, along with his stewards. This sudden void had precipitated the emergency closure of the Guild branch.

Rumors suggested the Iron Anvil branch had dispatched an urgent plea to headquarters, yet, to date, no one had arrived to investigate.

A faint crease formed between Rachel’s brows.

The miners’ hushed discussion immediately brought the Cult of the End to Rachel’s mind. While the events certainly bore the hallmarks of the Cult’s modus operandi, something felt subtly amiss. In the mines, the Cult had operated with the stealth of a coiled viper, perpetually wary of exposure. The disappearances in Iron Anvil Town, however, struck her as… rather ostentatious. Had the Cult indeed adopted a new strategy, or was some other, unknown entity at work?

Frustration swiftly gave way to a chilling surge of excitement, and Rachel’s thoughts began to churn with incredible speed.

‘This might just be an opportunity!’ Rachel mused. Discovering Barton, or perhaps unraveling this perplexing mystery, could potentially earn them a significant favor with the Guild. With such leverage, even if her territory remained insignificant and her reputation sullied, surely they would at least entertain her request for a loan.

“Ruby, Vera.”

Rachel’s voice, hushed to a near whisper, carried an unmistakable tone of firm resolve.

“We’re staying tonight.”

Ruby’s gaze, sharp as a hawk’s, snapped back from its vigilant survey, pinning itself to Rachel’s face, her brow deeply furrowed.

“My Lady?” Ruby’s voice was laced with concern. “This place is a hive of chaos, teeming with unsavory characters. To be forced to spend even one night here is already a considerable risk. What more do you propose?”

“To seek out clues concerning the vanished Barton.”

Rachel stated plainly.

“Oh, oh…”

Vera nodded in a daze, having missed the hushed conversation at the adjacent table, but Ruby’s countenance instantly clouded over.

“This is far too perilous!” Ruby’s voice was sharp with alarm. “We possess no knowledge of this place, and the perpetrator’s methods are both unknown and brutally vicious. Even the Guild has chosen to barricade itself for self-preservation! For you to act so rashly is to deliberately expose yourself to extreme danger! My sworn duty is to safeguard your well-being, not to indulge your reckless impulses!”

Rachel met Ruby’s icy stare, her own resolve unyielding. Her quiet confidence stemmed from the serene void that persistently resided within her deepest perception—a void blessedly free of any heart-stopping crimson backdrop or the ominous ticking of a black countdown. This singular fact implied that, at least in the present ‘moment,’ no mortal danger had yet manifested. It was Rachel’s most closely guarded secret, and indeed, her ultimate ace, empowering her to embrace such gambles.

“I know this is dangerous, Ruby.”

Rachel deliberately softened her tone, yet her eyes held an unwavering resolve.

“However, this also represents our sole opportunity—a chance to extricate ourselves from this desperate predicament. Furthermore… These disappearances—their clear targets and bizarre methods—don’t they strike you as remarkably similar to the Cult’s usual tactics? Princess Ariya is currently dedicating all her efforts to purging the Cult. If we were to uncover any clues here, or even succeed in thwarting their machinations, would that not also be a direct aid to her Royal Highness?”

The unexpected mention of Ariya’s name visibly caused a flicker of hesitation in Ruby, and Rachel, keenly attuned to this subtle shift, immediately pressed her advantage.

“We shall merely observe the sealed Guild branch, seeking clues, and under no circumstances will we delve into undue peril. Moreover, with you by my side, I have no doubt we will be safe.”

Ruby remained silent. The dim oil lamp cast deep, stark shadows across her stern, unyielding profile.

After a protracted silence, Ruby finally offered a minute nod. Her voice, though still frigid, had lost its former inflexibility.

“Only for investigating inside the Guild. If any anomaly is detected, we retreat immediately.”

Rachel felt an immediate wave of relief wash over her.

“Of course.”

In the profound stillness of midnight, Iron Anvil Town lay cloaked in a deathly silence, akin to a colossal, abandoned sarcophagus. A frigid wind shrieked through the desolate streets, whipping up dust and withered leaves into a mournful, ghost-like lament. The shantytown was swallowed by an oppressive darkness, from which only sporadic, muffled groans or coughs seeped through the crevices, deepening the pervasive sense of dread. Heavy, ominous clouds had swallowed the stars and moon, plunging the entire settlement into an impenetrable, inky blackness.

Three figures, like wraiths woven into the fabric of night, moved stealthily, clinging to the deepest shadows cast by the wall corners. Ruby, having discarded her cumbersome apron and now clad only in a dark underskirt, moved at the forefront. Her movements were unnervingly light and agile, almost inhuman in their grace. Vera, by contrast, trailed closely behind Rachel, her face a mask of palpable tension.

Looming in the oppressive darkness, the Guild’s heavily barricaded front doors appeared before them, resembling a monstrous, tightly sealed maw. Ruby guided them around the building’s rear, into a cramped alley choked with discarded refuse. They halted before an unremarkable side door, evidently intended for the delivery of supplies. This entrance, while also boarded shut, was clearly not as heavily or haphazardly secured as the main doors.

Ruby made a silent gesture for quiet, then crouched, extracting a dagger as slender as a willow leaf from her boot sheath. With a subtle flick of her wrist, the blade slid precisely into a narrow gap between the wooden planks. Following a few barely audible ‘snaps,’ several crucial nails were either expertly pried loose or severed entirely. Ruby braced both hands against the plank, her arm muscles subtly flexing, and with a controlled, deliberate motion, she soundlessly dislodged the entire board.

A cold breath of air, redolent with dust, aged paper, and a subtle hint of mildew, immediately surged forth.

“Amazing…”

Rachel instinctively uttered a soft exclamation of admiration, but Ruby, ignoring her, swiftly slipped inside. Witnessing this, Rachel and Vera quickly followed in her wake.

The interior of the Guild was equally steeped in a deathly silence and impenetrable gloom. Ruby ignited a small candle she carried, its faint, jaundiced light struggling to carve out a meager sphere of visibility.

The rear hall housed a jumble of broken tables, chairs, and empty wooden crates, all coated in a thick layer of dust, the air within utterly stagnant. Traversing the corridor, they entered the front hall, where the counter, tables, and chairs remained surprisingly orderly. Only a fine film of dust betrayed the desolate emptiness that now pervaded the space.

Rachel meticulously examined the counter and drawers, her fingers sifting through their contents for any pertinent records or notes. Yet, she discovered nothing but trivial cargo manifests and duplicate ledger entries.

“There’s nothing useful here.”

Rachel straightened, her brow furrowed in contemplation. After a brief pause, her eyes suddenly drifted to the corridor that led deeper into the building.

“Let’s go, let’s check the storeroom.”

A thick, wooden door, firmly locked, barred the way to the storeroom. Ruby produced two slender iron wires and deftly maneuvered them within the lock’s mechanism. Moments later, a soft ‘click’ echoed, and the lock yielded.

As the heavy storeroom door creaked open, a potent wave of dust and rust assailed their senses. Within the candle’s faint halo, they observed stacks of un-shipped ore ingots, bundles of tools, and various general goods, all arranged with a surprising degree of order.

Rachel, holding the candle aloft, persisted in her meticulous search, unwilling to concede defeat. Upon reaching a stack of tarp-covered boxes deep within the storeroom, her foot registered a sensation distinct from dust—something faintly viscous beneath her sole.

Rachel instinctively lowered her gaze, bringing the candle’s flame closer to the gritty floor. In the dim, jaundiced light, a small, dark brown, dried stain clung unmistakably to the edge of Rachel’s shoe sole.

The color… Rachel’s heart plummeted with a sudden, chilling dread.

“Blood?”

Ruby immediately crouched, dabbing a fraction of the stain with her fingertip. She brought it to her nose for a discerning sniff, then rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger for closer inspection. Her face, illuminated by the wavering candlelight, hardened into an expression of profound gravity.

“It’s blood, and it’s been here for some time.”

Bloodstains! Here, deep within this outwardly mundane storeroom!

Rachel’s heart constricted sharply, the earlier disappointment of finding nothing instantly eclipsed by a surge of tension and the chilling premonition of an imminent discovery. She immediately began to trace the direction of the bloodstains, her gaze sweeping meticulously across the dust-laden floor.

Soon, she uncovered a series of dark brown, dragging marks, appearing intermittently as they led behind a towering stack of empty wooden crates in the storeroom’s furthest corner. Beyond them, a nondescript back door passage, half-hidden by debris, seemed to beckon.

At that very instant!

A black shadow, like a phantom, flashed out from the shadows of that pile of empty wooden crates without warning! Its speed was such that it left only a blurred afterimage, instantly darting through the half-open back door passage and vanishing into the darkness outside!

“Chase!”

Rachel’s command burst forth!

Ruby’s reaction was even swifter. The moment Rachel spoke, Ruby had already shot out like an arrow from a bowstring, in hot pursuit! Rachel and Vera quickly followed, rushing out through the storeroom’s back door.

The area beyond the storeroom was not a town street, but a desolate wilderness of gravel and discarded mining slag, pressed against the Guild building’s rear wall. The black shadow’s speed was astonishing; it traversed the uneven, obstacle-strewn terrain as if on level ground, its form flickering, each darting movement widening the distance, as if it had merged with the night wind. Ruby, with her incredible speed and tracking prowess, clung relentlessly to its trail, but with Rachel and Vera in tow, she could not unleash her full capabilities.

After rounding a massive, hill-like pile of discarded mining slag, the black shadow executed a sudden, sharp turn and vanished behind several jagged boulders. By the time Ruby reached the boulders, only a more expansive, rock-strewn wilderness lay before them, devoid of any trace.

“Lost it!”

Ruby’s voice carried a hint of vexation. She halted, her dagger already in hand, as she vigilantly scanned the surrounding darkness.

Rachel and Vera caught up, Rachel leaning on her knees, gasping for the cold air, her heart filled with frustration.

‘The trail… broken just like that?’

“Damn it…”

Rachel muttered under her breath.

Just then, Ruby, who had been intently vigilant, stiffened imperceptibly. She whipped her head around, her deep gray pupils constricting sharply in the darkness. She sniffed the air forcefully, and her face, in the faint starlight, instantly became exceptionally grim, even… tinged with a flicker of startled apprehension.

“What is it, Ruby?” Rachel’s heart seized again, sensing her unusual gravity.

Ruby did not immediately reply. Her gaze, as if pulled by invisible threads, locked onto an area not far to their side—a slightly sunken patch of ground, partially enclosed by several massive rocks. The wind there seemed to carry a thick, sickly sweet, metallic scent.

“Blood… fresh blood… so thick it’s suffocating… over there!”

Ruby’s voice was barely a whisper, imbued with an unprecedented chill. She hesitated no longer, gripping her dagger tightly, and like a hunter venturing into a beast’s den, she advanced, step by slow, cautious step, towards the low-lying area that exuded such an intense aura of death. Each step crunched on the gravel, producing a faint yet heart-stopping rustle.

Rachel’s and Vera’s hearts instantly clenched. They exchanged a glance, held their breaths, and followed closely behind Ruby.

The ambient smells of coal dust and rust were utterly overwhelmed by an even more potent, nauseatingly sweet, metallic scent of iron, which assailed them like a physical presence, almost suffocating them. Vera abruptly clapped a hand over her mouth, her stomach churning violently.

Rounding the waist-high, jagged rocks, the scene within the hollow unfolded slowly under the meager glow of Ruby’s candle, like a macabre painting from hell—