Return

Chronicles of Klept: Chapter XVIII

---

We made our way toward the North-East city gate with the sky threatening rain in the distance. Umberto stomped beside us, muttering about “the ignominy of looking after academics” and “being destined for greater things,” gripping his axe like he planned to strike down the next cabbage cart that looked at him funny.

Wikis glanced down her coat for the seventh time and turned to Carrie.
“Do you think it’ll grow back?”
“I’m fairly sure it will, darling.”
“But it’s been ripped out completely.”
“Still,” Carrie said, “hair has a very forgiving nature.”

A few paces ahead, Trunch tried to strike up a conversation with Osman, gesturing animatedly as he spoke.
“Klept tells us the Court were ruthless. Farmed the people as much as the people farmed the land.”

Osman adjusted the strap on his satchel and cleared his throat, pleased to be drawn into conversation.
“They didn’t start as tyrants,” he said, eyes distant. “The Dan’del’ion Court rose centuries ago, during a time of famine, plague, constant raiding. At first, they were protectors. Guardians. But eventually, Lord Ieyoch rose to power, and things changed.”

“I’d love to know more. I mean, Klept gave us the background, but was light on specifics.” Trunch’s voice had an eager lilt.

“I gave you the necessary information, in the time we had,” I called forward. “You haven’t asked for more.”

“I appreciate it,” Trunch called back, and then turned to Osman. “But seeing as we’ve got a few hours of walking ahead of us…”

“Sorry,” Redmond cut in, abruptly stopping. “Are you really expecting us to walk all the way?”

“Well, we could hire a cart — but it’ll only take us part of the way. Once we enter the forest, we’ll have to leave it by the roadside,” Yak replied.

“As long as the chronicler writes it down so it isn’t forgotten on the way back,” Umberto grunted, eying me with more intensity than was strictly necessary.

“But… I think we’ll kind of need to go all the way to Nelb anyway, and then backtrack from there,” Yak said, looking sheepishly at the ground.

“Yak,” Carrie placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “Have you forgotten how to get to the stump?”

“Not exactly. It’s just, it was dark when I left the forest. I kind of got lost on the way back to Nelb.”

“That’s why you came back so late,” Trunch offered.

“So I need to retrace my steps from Nelb. Then I think I can get us there.”

I tried to lighten the mood. “At least we could get a sizzlecake or two.”

“It’s a good thing we’re setting off early, then,” Day said, already heading for the gate.
“I’ll go hire us a cart.”

“There’s a C.A.R.T. stable just outside the gate,” I called after him. “See if they’ve got one with bedding.”

“C.A.R.T.?” Osman asked.

“The C.A.R.T. system,” I replied. “A Humbledoewn Valley institution. Carriage And Reliable Transport. Came about a few generations ago—started by a group of farming friends sick of paying through the nose for carts and beasts. Between rental costs, maintenance, hoof-rot ointments, wheel grease, and the occasional mule funeral, it was getting unsustainable.”

Osman raised an eyebrow. “A mule funeral?”

“You’d be surprised,” I said.

“So they pooled their coin, ideas, and stubbornness, and set up a shared network—carts and animals available for hire at a fair price. These days, it covers the whole valley. You just head to a C.A.R.T. stable, pick your beast and cart size—grain, lumber, or relocating your exceptionally lazy uncle—hand over some coin, and off you go.”

“So it’s a cart rental service,” Osman said. Redmond scoffed.

“Well, yes, but better. Each cart comes with a token that matches the beast’s strapping. Return it to an affiliated stable, you get some coin back. Discourages folk from abandoning it in a ditch.”

“And if there’s no C.A.R.T. stand nearby?”

“There’s a little emergency cage with a messenger pigeon and a scrap of parchment,” I said. “If something goes wrong—wheel breaks, ox dies dramatically—you scribble your location, release the bird, and someone from C.A.R.T. comes to find you. Usually within a day or two. Faster if you pay the pigeon an express fee.”

Osman blinked.

“There’s even a fold-out flagpole under the chassis,” I added. “Orange and green. Highly visible. Unless you’re stuck in a pumpkin field. It’s a simple system. Flawed. But effective. Like most things in the valley—it works here, and almost nowhere else.”

Day returned, braid swaying with practiced precision.
“They’re just hooking up the oxen now,” he said. “I paid for two. Got us a medium transport cart as well.”

It wasn’t anything fancy, but the cart was solid, and Day had put down enough coin to get one with padded bedding. That meant fewer splinters, less bouncing, and slightly more dignity than usual. The kind of luxury that said ‘you’re still poor, but someone might think otherwise at a distance’.

Five minutes into the ride, Wikis shifted against the padding, stretched her legs out, and turned to me.
“Why didn’t we have a cart as comfortable as this on our first trip to Nelb, Klept?”

Umberto, never one to let a moment of passive aggression pass unchallenged, glared at me like I’d wronged his ancestors.
“That,” I said, “was a church cart. Tufulla lent it to us.”

“I assume he charged for it,” Umberto muttered.
“No, but it did come with a hymnbook and three spiders.”

The road to Nelb curved through low grass and trees that leaned in like they wanted to eavesdrop. Redmond sat primly, notebook open, quill already dancing across the page before the wheels had properly begun to turn. Jonath jostled beside him, scribbling in shorthand so dense it looked like a curse. Orsen clutched the side of the cart with both hands and the expression of a man bracing for impact.

“So,” Redmond said without looking up, “tell us everything.”

And they did.

They started with the festival. The masked attackers. The chaos. The creeping sense that it had been more than random violence—that someone, somewhere, had made a decision to let blood spill that night.

Osman, sharper than expected, murmured, “That second attack, in the church? From your description, it sounds like a golem. Not summoned. Placed. An assassination attempt?”

“Could’ve been for Klept,” Umberto added, unhelpfully. “But probably Tufulla.”

Then Nelb. The graveyard. The medallions.

Redmond’s quill froze in midair.
“You found the medallions buried?” he asked. “In coffins?”

“Sort of,” Din said with a frown.

“The risen skeletons were wearing them,” I clarified.

“That’s… unsettling,” Redmond muttered. Jonath scribbled faster.

Next: the discovery of the box.

“We found it in the Lenn house,” Yak said. “Under a loose board. Inside were the parchment and the brooch.”

Redmond’s expression shifted. He nodded, slow and deliberate.
“The Lenn family were once members of the Dan’del’ion Court.”

“I fucking knew it,” Umberto roared. “When I see her again, I’ll—”

“But they turned,” Redmond interrupted. “Years ago. Brenne’s parents were working with the White Ravens before their deaths.”

“She doesn’t know, does she?” Day asked quietly.

Redmond shook his head. “It was never made public. Safer that way. Her grandparents were the last true believers. Her parents left the Court when they were young—worked to bring it down. They didn’t want her to grow up with that shadow.”

A hush settled over the cart. Even Umberto fell quiet for a breath or two, his rage folding in on itself. Just for a moment.

Over the next few minutes, Redmond’s posture changed. His demeanor toward the group seemed to soften—not in the usual “I’m unimpressed and saving my breath for a monologue” kind of way, but in the quiet, cog-turning sort of way that meant he was re-evaluating.

He sat with the medallions in one hand, frowning down at them as the cart jostled along.

“I admit,” he said finally, not looking at anyone in particular, “your methods are… unconventional. Chaotic. Unrefined. Bordering on undisciplined.”

Yak yawned loudly. Umberto growled. Carrie tutted.

“But,” Redmond continued, lifting the brooch into a shaft of morning light, “you’ve gathered more actionable intelligence in two weeks than most field agents manage in a year. Even if it wasn’t entirely intentional. Possibly because you’re in it. Messy. Immediate. There’s something to be said for proximity.” He gave Umberto a sharp look. “Though some basic training wouldn’t go amiss.”

Umberto offered a one-finger salute.

Redmond ignored it and turned the medallion slowly in his fingers. “You said the tree stump bore the same insignia?”

Yak nodded. “Sure did, but only when the moonlight hit it.”

“And the figure you followed. They just disappeared?”

“Like the last slice of pie when no one’s looking,” Yak replied, too quickly.

Given his history with pastry, I didn’t doubt it.

“Fascinating.”

We’d been traveling for just over an hour when Yak suddenly shouted, “Stop the cart!”

He leapt out, adding a somersault, because of course he did.

“I think I recognize that rock,” he cried, pointing to a medium-sized boulder just past the tree line.

“Are you sure? It looks like every other rock,” Carrie said, visibly unimpressed.

“Something about the shape. The light was different, it was dark. But I definitely stopped here. For a quick nibble.” Yak darted over, ducked behind the rock, then popped up grinning. “Yep. Crumbs,” he said, holding up his palm. “I was definitely here.”

“Excellent.” Redmond actually beamed. “Well done. Lead us the rest of the way. I want to see your stump.”

“You know,” Day murmured as we climbed out of the cart, “in any other circumstance that would be a really weird thing to say to someone.”

Trunch tied the oxen to a nearby tree.

“Right,” Yak said proudly. “This way.“

We’d been walking for nearly an hour when Wikis suddenly stopped and sat down.

“Are you alright?” Carrie asked.

Wikis tossed some leaves and sniffed the air. “I’ll catch up. Just need to check something.”

We continued without her for about ten minutes before Yak started to slow down.

His confident stride gave way to small hesitations. Pauses. Glances over his shoulder.

And then: Wikis. Sitting cross-legged on the forest floor, right in front of us.

At first, no one said anything. Then Carrie shaded her eyes, squinting through the trees.

“I can see the oxen.”

Everyone stopped. Yak froze mid-step.

Carrie pointed. Sure enough, just beyond the thinning canopy, the cart sat in clear view. The oxen blinked at us placidly. One of them sneezed.

“I took a turn… somewhere,” Yak said, voice small.

Umberto let out a long growl that sounded like it started in his spine. He spun and hacked down a nearby tree with two frustrated swings of his axe.

Trunch sighed. Din rubbed his temples.

Yak slumped onto a nearby log, defeated. “It looked different at night. I had pastry crumbs and moonlight to guide me. It all made sense in the dark.”

“You did your best,” Din offered gently, crouching beside him.

Trunch gave Yak’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.

“I’m more of a city person,” Yak said softly.

Wikis hadn’t said a word. She just stared at Yak, head tilted, like she was trying to figure out if he was a puzzle, or a rare fungus.

Then, without a word, she walked over, yanked off his boot, sniffed the sole, picked off a piece of dirt, licked it, and vanished into the trees.

“What just happened?” Redmond asked flatly.

“Wikis,” Day replied calmly.

“She’s a little odd,” Osman said, carefully choosing his words.

“Possibly unhinged,” Redmond added.

Jonath, apparently unfazed, pulled a slightly bruised apple from his pocket and was about to take a bite when—thwap! An arrow exploded the fruit, pinning the remains to a tree beside him.

Din, Day, and Umberto drew weapons in a blink.

“Wait!” Carrie called holding up a hand.

A rustle.

Wikis popped her head out from a bush, eyes bright. “This way,” she giggled, and waved us over.

She led us through the trees like a fox that had learned cartography. Yak’s trail—faint, meandering, completely invisible to the rest of us—snaked and doubled back through the underbrush.

“He could’ve cut this time in half if he just walked in a straight line,” Wikis muttered, brushing aside a fern. “He went around that stump. Twice. Once backwards.” She pointed to a squat stump off to the left.

It took nearly an hour, but eventually the trees parted, and we saw it.

The clearing. And in the center—the stump.

Weathered. Wide. Old.

Its bark was grey and cracked like parched earth.

It was midday. The sun hung directly above us, casting a halo of dappled light across the clearing.

Redmond adjusted his glasses.

“Now let’s see what secrets you’re hiding.”

We examined the stump and its surroundings for over an hour. Carrie fluttered through the nearby trees; the rest of us scoured the underbrush. Umberto confidently strode onto the stump, arms raised as if asking to be taken by the gods.

Wikis found multiple tracks—other than ours—all humanoid, leading into and out of the clearing. Redmond, Osman, and Jonath wrote pages and pages of notes, meticulously documenting every moss patch, tree root, and awkward silence.

All of it led to nothing.

Eventually, Day and Yak wandered off. They returned some time later, just as the rest of us slumped into exhausted disappointment. Day had a couple of rabbits slung over his shoulder. Yak cradled a pouch full of berries, tubers, and herbs.

“Some of these we can eat now,” Yak said. “The rest… I’ve got drink ideas.”

Umberto immediately rose and marched over to the largest tree. He started swinging at it with a rage and fury that made everyone take notice.

The pile of Dan’del’ion artifacts sat on the grass. Redmond had tried placing them on the stump earlier—nothing had happened.

Carrie stared at them, then leaned over and whispered something to Wikis. Wikis narrowed her eyes, then whispered something to her pouch.

She turned back to Carrie and nodded.

Together, they stepped forward, each plucking a medallion from the pile.

“Wait. What are you doing?” Redmond stood, alarmed.

“Call it investigating,” Carrie replied coolly, lifting the chain above her head.

“Carrie, Wikis—don’t be rash,” Trunch called, voice tight with concern.

“We don’t know what that will do,” Din warned.

The tension in their voices caught Umberto’s attention. He stopped hacking and stomped back toward us.

“Maybe it’s time we found out,” Carrie said.

And then they slipped the medallions over their heads.

Jonath scribbled frantically in his notebook. Yak stared, open-mouthed, berries falling from his hand. Din sighed. Trunch and Day instinctively prepared spells, hands crackling with energy.

Three pounding heartbeats passed.

Carrie screamed. She dropped to her knees, clutching her head. Blood trickled from one ear.

Wikis, without a word, turned and began walking into the forest.

“Get it off her!” Din shouted.

Umberto rushed forward, grabbing Carrie’s shoulders as she writhed. Day and Trunch dove in—hands fumbling, twisting at the chain. It wouldn’t budge. Carrie screamed again.

And then—with a final wrench—the medallion came loose.

She collapsed, gasping.

Redmond stood frozen, pale. Jonath scribbled faster.

“Hey, guys.” I pointed toward the trees.

Wikis was still walking. She didn’t brush aside branches. She tripped over roots. Rocks hit her knees. She didn’t seem to notice.

“Fuck! Stop her!” Din yelled.

“Wikis!” Day and Umberto bolted after her.

Carrie groaned. “Ow… my head.”

There was a thud, a scuffle. Shouting.

Then: “Get off me!” Wikis shrieked.

Day emerged holding the medallion, panting, his other hand raised in surrender. Wikis stood bow taut, arrow tip flicking between Day and Umberto.

“What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened?” she snapped.

Moments later we were gathered near the stump again. Wikis still had her bow taut, but aimed straight down. Her knuckles were moon white with tension.

“You don’t remember anything? Either of you?” Redmond pushed his spectacles up. “Anything at all could be vital.”

“Nothing,” Carrie said, holding her head. “Just blackness and a splitting pain.”

“I was standing here,” Wikis said uneasily, “and then I was over there. And Umberto had me pinned to the ground.” She raised her bow and pointed it at him. 

“Easy, Wikis” Day, calmly pushed the bow back down.

“You weren’t listening,” Umberto growled. “I had to tackle you. You wouldn’t stop walking.”

“Well,” Redmond sighed, “Neither of you remember anything. That’s not very helpful.”

“That’s not fair,” Trunch spoke up. “You saw what happened. Clearly Wikis had no control. Carrie was bleeding from her ear.”

“Maybe we just need someone more strong-willed,” Umberto grunted and dropped a medallion over his neck.

“Oh shit!” Din sprang to his feet as Umberto began marching toward the tree line, same as Wikis.

Carrie darted in front of him, waving her hands. “He’s not even blinking!”

“We need to stop him!” Redmond shouted.

“Oh sure,” Din snapped, “you want to try?” and dashed after him.

It took Din, Day, and Trunch to slow Umberto down. Yak removed the medallion. Carrie slapped him across the face.

Umberto blinked. “Well?”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Din snapped.

“But at least I remember.” Umberto turned to Redmond. “There was a voice. Deep. Dark. Old.”

“Now that is helpful. And Interesting. What did it say?”

“Return.”

“Return?” Redmond echoed.

“Just… ‘return’.” Umberto stood with his hands on his hips, smug as anything.

“Return where?” Osman asked.

“Where indeed?” Redmond muttered, eyes narrowing. He turned slowly. “If that’s north, then they both walked…”

He pointed into the trees. “That’s fascinating.”

“What is?” Carrie asked.

Redmond looked at Umberto. “Where were you going, exactly?”

Umberto paused. “I—uh…”

“Toward Castle Ieyoch,” Redmond said, matter-of-fact. “You were both heading toward the castle.”

Silence spread like spilled ink. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

We sat around the clearing in a loose ring of disappointment. The sky had begun to shift into that bruised-blue that comes just before nightfall. The earlier clouds had long floated away. Day leaned against a tree, arms crossed. Wikis sat sharpening a dagger without urgency. Umberto, much to Redmond’s surprise, sat under a tree reading. Yak was lying flat on his back, staring at the canopy.

“I’m done,” he muttered. “This is too much. We’ve faced graveyards, attacks, undead cats, … and now we’re putting on jewellery that makes you bleed out your ears and wander off like you’ve been cursed.”

“You’re not wrong,” I said. “But also, we’re already out here.”

Redmond, pacing near the stump, turned sharply. “We stay until moonrise.”

There were groans. Trunch opened his mouth to argue, but Osman spoke first.

“He’s right,” he said quietly. “If the glyph only appeared under moonlight before… we should test it again. Under similar conditions.”

So we waited.

The sun dipped low. Shadows stretched like yawns. And then, just as the moon crested the tree line, a pale light spilled across the clearing—dappled and uncertain—and the stump glowed.

Not brightly. Not dramatically.

But the symbol appeared. Faint and flickering. Like a memory trying to be remembered.

Everyone leaned in.

Nothing happened.

Jonath cautiously approached the stump and began meticulously sketching the glowing insignia.

Redmond whispered something to Osman, who shrugged. Redmond strode forward. “Jonath?”

“Hmm? the young scribe turned and looked up just as Redmond shoved him fair in the chest. He lost his balance and stepped back onto the stump.

There was a collective gasp. Jonath looked as if he’s soiled himself. Redmond turned to Osman, frustrated. Osman just smiled. Jonath let out a sigh.

“Bloody hell, Redmond. You gave me a heart attack.”

Redmond gave a wry smile then suddenly turned and tossed a medallion to Jonath. “Catch”

Instinctively, Jonath caught it, dropped his notebook in the process.

There was a pulse. A blink.

And he was gone.

Just… gone. Before his notebook hit the ground. 

The clearing erupted.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Wikis shouted, springing to her feet.

“JONATH!” Din screamed, stumbling forward to where the scribe had been. “Redmond, you son of a …”

Wikis was fast. Her bow came up, taut and steady, aimed squarely at Redmond’s chest. Her eyes were wild. Focused. Daring him to give her a reason.

“He’s fine,” Redmond said too quickly, too smoothly. “He’s gone through. We needed to know if it worked.”

“You could’ve warned him,” Din snapped.

“You could’ve gone yourself,” Trunch growled.

“We had to know if—”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” Umberto interrupted, voice like thunder. “You chose to send someone else.”

“We’re trying to avert a catastrophe,” Redmond said, chin high. “These things are expected. Every White Raven is trained for this. All of us, orphans, no family, no ties. So we can do what others can’t. So when we vanish, there’s no one left behind to mourn.”

Umberto smoldered with fury “You speak of sacrifice like it’s noble. But true sacrifice is chosen, not assigned. You played roulette with a life that wasn’t yours to wager.”

“You sent him without consent.” Trunch bellowed.

“A soldier doesn’t send his comrade through an untested gate. A leader doesn’t either.” Din spat “You’re a coward.”

“We aren’t soldiers” Redmond sneered. “We’re investigators. We don’t technically exist. We act in the shadows. No one knows who we are, or what we do.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Day said coldly.

“Perhaps, in your view. But I did what was necessary” Redmond replied.

“No,” Carrie stepped forward. “You did what was easy.”

There was a long silence.

Then Umberto strode forward and shoved a medallion into Redmond’s chest. “You’ve got a choice. Go after him. Or wait here. See if he comes back. Either way, we’re going back to Dawnsheart. You’re on your own.”

Osman looked to Redmond, stunned and rattled. Redmond held the medallion like it weighed far more than gold.

“We’re leaving,” Din announced.

And we did.

We walked. Not fast. Not slow. Just… enough.

Fifteen minutes passed.

A scream.

Then crashing. Splintering branches. Footsteps pounding the forest floor behind us.

And then: Redmond, Osman, and Jonath—barreling through the trees.

“RUN!” Osman bellowed as they dashed past.

Behind them, shadows. Shapes. Sleek. Dark. Moving quickly.

We turned.

No more debates. No more planning.

Just running.