“Are they supposed to fall apart like that?” Girshan asked, prodding the pile of offal and loose bits of limb and flesh on the ground. What yet remained of the creature. It's armor still clung about it, radiating a dull mana as it struggled in vain to repair itself. Something that wasn't likely to happen now that it's user was dead. “You really did a number on this thing. What kind of spell was that?”

Neal shrugged. He was the only human in the group, and the only 'real' mage. His mid-length chestnut colored hair was bound into an intricately pleated braid down the center of his head, loose at the ends. Spilling onto his back in the style of the highlands. The only local, as well – an employee of Klaus sent to 'observe' them. Not that it was much of a job, they usually kept to themselves. “A level three spell. Two of them, really, I was in a rush. I've no idea why it was so effective. Vampires should be a bit more durable than that, don't you think?”

“Hmm... Maybe they are weak against magic?” Jura, the orc ranger, pulled at her full lips absentmindedly. Languidly stretching out over the ground, happy to find an open space that wasn't so wet. Courtesy of the monsters bizarre ability to breathe fire, no less. Totally unconcerned with the body parts strewn around her.

Abrath, Abe for short, shook his head. Their healer, the long tailed telurian with his red skin and exotic features. Healer, half monk, druid. Oldest and most experienced of their group by a long shot – at least when it came to things like adventuring. “It's the exact opposite. I don't think it's a vampire... A newborn should be weak to darkness magic due to its imbalance, and your black arrow managed to knock off a limb but I see no evidence of necrosis. Furthermore, one so young and weak as this shouldn't be able to wield fire like that. It's hard enough even for elder vamps to use fire, and when they do its usually metamagic. He used a pure element, very rare.”

“His?” Neal smarted at the pronoun. “Don't you mean it? Clearly, that's a monster. How do you know all of this stuff, anyways? Met a lot of vampires in Teluria?”

“I've read about them. As a self proclaimed sorcerer, you could do with a bit less sarcastic quips, and a few more lessons in monster theory. I've some tomes I could lend you, though I doubt you possess the mental acuity to make much use of them. Or you'd find your churches would consider them illegal...”

“Watch your tongue, telurian. I've been more than fair so far, but that can change at any time.” Neal snarled back.

“Could use more lessons in dodging, too.” Xavier, their kijin allomancer chuckled in delight. Neal was clearly still put off with how he'd been taken out so quickly, aggravation plain in his tone. “That was some throw, dudes got aim, I'll give him that.”

“Indeed.” Girshan's tone was enough to silence all of them. Little more than a low growl. Yana was the leader, but Girshan was the veteran tracker. His authority over the group was no lesser to hers, his muscular frame rippling as he ran a cloth of cleansing over his burly limbs. “Abrath's summary is apt. This is not a monster. We have made a grave mistake.”

“Then what is it?” Yana asked, raising an eyebrow before bending at the knees to prod the remains with the sword end of her pendulum. “Oh no...”

“Indeed.” Girshan repeated, softening in tone and dragging his now clean hands through his thick mane of ebony hair falling in a cascade all the way down to his waist. A few questioning glances were sent his way, but he did not elaborate, merely inclining his head toward the corpse.

The man, as it seemed he was, regardless of his alien smell and exotic skillset, had worn armor over his trappings. Eviscerated as he was, the open rents in the armor over what remained of his torso contained exactly what they were looking for. An adventuring badge shaped in the form of a silver star. The embossing displayed a cracked skull with a dagger sunk into its eye socket.

Abe breathed a curse only one of his people could understand. Slamming the butt of his staff into the rich soil at his feet. Jura raised both eyebrows in shock before erupting into maniacal laughter wholly out of place considering the severity of their situation. Xavier wilted, landing on his backside and bringing both hands to his face. Yana frowned, Girshan remained as still as a statue – and Neal began to shudder. Landing beside Xavier as his knees gave out on him. He was competent, powerful even, but he was – as most mages were – a coward. Unapologetic of it, too.

“Wait. Wait wait wait. Okay. Oh shit. Oh fu--” He began to hyperventilate. Jura looked at him like he was fecal matter on the bottom of her shoe, but the assembled group let the episode pass. It wasn't the first time they'd seen him break down like that. Unlike them, he'd never experienced much adversity in his life. Not ready for when things went south, not turning out the way he'd planned. “Okay, wait.” He repeated, breathing to calm himself as his mind worked up a solution. Ultimately, while he was not a slave as they were, he was responsible for their actions. Thus, he'd get the worst of it. Slaves were promised only one thing if they accepted a contract like this, and it was a swift death in the event of failure. Neal would not be given the same consideration. “It's self defense, right?”

“It was not.” Yana replied with a shallow shaking of the head. Unlike Girshan, she did not have the fortitude to stay steady given the situation. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “He asked me a question and I was so surprised that he'd sensed me in the forest even with my wards up that I struck first. It was I who drew first blood, and didn't give him a chance to surrender. When he told me to wait, I continued – and then Girshan entered the fight, after that it all went downhill from there...”

“He's a silver rank adventurer.” Xavier spit. “And a Hunter. We'll hang for this. Why didn't you scan him?”

“I did! But I'm not used to these tools, I...” Yana began to choke on her words, hands shaking as she considered what foul fate she'd thrust her entire team into. All because she'd reacted impulsively. “You saw him, Abe? You saw what he could do? There was no reason for me to do that.”

Abe nodded, patting her on the shoulder. “I did. I've never seen anything lose a limb and attach it again with no sign of any magic. Not anything living as we do. You made the right call, I'm sure they'll understand.”

“No, they won't!” Neal protested. “We're foreigners and he's a local, a silver rank of the Hunter's! This is what we tell them. We say that it was self defense, that he tried to rape Yana. I, in defense of my contractors property, took him out. Accidentally used too much magic. We have the right of vengeance under Lyran law in such an event, we practice standing ground law!”

“But that's not what happened.” Jura looked at him again like he was the foulest bit of filth she'd ever seen. She might only be half-orc, but she was all tribe. Orcs did not lie, it was inimical to their most sacred oaths, taken upon their first blooding. They did not steal before offering challenge first, did not kill without cause, never never lied.

“He's also a noble.” Xavier observed, relatively composed but still quite anxious. Tapping rapidly at his crossed legs with his fingers, a nervous tick of his that he couldn't shake. “Don't recognize the standard, but you can't wear heraldry like that in Haran without a duty charter. A knight, maybe. Someone important based on the expense of the gear. Those gauntlets in particular have quite a lot of mithril in them, not that it matters. I just... You know.”

“We know.” Abe laid his hand on Xavier's head next. The kijin was only eleven years of age. Just a child compared to the telurians own age of eighty. And yet he'd been forced into servitude regardless. “But how do you know that he's Harani?”

“The writing on the gauntlet there. Haran is printed on the inside, along with some other words, but I can't read common very well.”

Jura grabbed the glove, stumbling over the calligraphy. Whoever had inscribed them did so in what might be poor handwriting, with none of the styling common on the few scrolls and books she'd read. Like they'd cut to the truest meaning of the word rather than trying to make it look pretty. That, she could appreciate, but she'd never been much good at reading. Only learning the basics forced on her by her human father before he'd been killed during the raids. “Sorry...”

Smiling softly, Yana bent over her shoulder to see. Inside the glove was a single line that indicated ownership of the artifact. “It says... Property of Imp...” She paused, eyes darting back and forth, giving new consideration to Neal's offer to lie. “...” Trying to speak came out as little more than a choked squawk. Girshan saw her panic and approached, stepping through the bloody muck and taking it gently from Jura's hands.

“Property of Imperial Prince Tyr Faeron-Ebonfist of House Faeron. Of Haran. Crafted in partnership with... That's a long name. Anu, must be. Hmm.” He seemed unconcerned, for the most part. Quietly accepting his fate. The others, however, did not. Xavier balked, and even Abe paled to the point where his red skin seemed not much different in coloration from the fair skinned humans that populated the continent. All of the light left Yana's eyes, and Jura didn't seem much interested in laughing or smiling anymore.

“P-primus... S-son of J-jartor... No shot...” Neal squeaked. White hair, Ebonfist wolf heraldry, and gear that no amount of money could buy... “This is your fault, you filthy who--” He tried to get up, fists clenched. He was a coward, but also a scoundrel and a bully. As soon as Yana showed weakness, he'd pounced on it. An opportunity to beat her for refusing his advances, most like. Again... Abe put him down before Girshan could do worse, rapping his staff across the back of the mans head. Doing nothing to remove him from the pile of entrails his face had made itself at home in.

Xavier groaned. “This is bad. Really bad.”

“No. You're to leave. I'll handle this and take full responsibility for the kill. Remember that we only possess one thing – and that's significant monetary value to the master. He has enough sense to avoid killing us all if it isn't necessary.” Girshan spoke in a fatherly voice. “I've always had a good relationship with Master Klaus, you'll be alright.”

“But you'll die!” Yana cried. Jura slowly shook her head, a lie she could live with as long as it passed from another pair of lips. This was bad, humans worshiped their primus' like gods...

Abe leaned on his staff, furrowing his brow. “Either you or I, brother. I am happy to step forward myself. To see the young ones killed for such an easily made mistake... I could not stomach it. I am old, young man, and more than ready to meet my ancestors.”

“No.” Girshan laid a heavy hand on the shoulder of one of his oldest friends. Remembering all those times Abrath had been whipped, claiming responsibility for the mischief of the younger slaves. This was the most honorable path, moping about their bad fortune would get them nowhere. “You're their only hope at finding a competent healer, and they'll never believe that you put an adventurer in such a sorry state.” Abe understood his words. It wasn't out of incompetence, but his weapons were all blunt. He had no ability to cut flesh like that. Girshan's axes, on the other hand, were another story. It could be believed.

It only took a few minutes for them to pull together an acceptable recounting, albeit a lie. They would claim that Girshan was separated during some fighting and took his opportunity to take vengeance on the humans who had killed his family. Being from Sinea, it was easy to see why he might aim that vengeance at the crown prince of the kingdom who had done his in. In their rage, the team executed him on the spot, opting not to take him alive. He'd be saved some torture that way, with Jura nodding in acceptance of the grim task, as loathe as she was to do it.

All were ready to get it over with, but never prepared to see him gone. Their goodbyes were long, full of tears and a misty eyed Yana begging forgiveness from the only father figure she'd ever known. For the others, Girshan was a teacher, a friend, and a mentor. Being taken as a slave was a jarring experience, and only his calm and composed way of processing it allowed them to eventually do the same. He had, in his way, raised Yana, Jura, and Xavier. Alongside Abrath and the other senior slaves, those with great value to the master – their authority was not small. Keeping the leery eyed guards away, and ensuring they grew up fit, healthy, and unbroken.

Ready as they'd ever be. Until a wet groan at their feet drew their attention. And the smell... Black fluid leaking from the red pieces left behind, making all of their noses wrinkle.