The team trudged down the path leading to the outskirts farm, the late-morning sun casting shadows across the sprawling fields. The farm itself was a modest operation. A barn, a fenced-in chicken coop with a few hens, and an already-harvested cornfield. A weathered farmer was waiting for them, his straw hat shading a sunburned face lined with worry.

  As they approached, the farmer greeted them with a wave. “Thank Pallandur you’re here! I was just about to start singing the song. It’s gotten worse! Two nights ago, those pests have managed to find entry into my barn. They’ve taken a quarter of my grain. A whole quarter, gone, in a single night!”

  Skorr stopped Trulda from answering and waved at the priestesses to move forward and talk to the farmer.

  Mirabelle frowned, her brows knitting together as she mentally tallied numbers. “Wait… You’re a family of… eight? Nine. Okay. So right after the harvest, you’d need to have about 800 pounds of grain. So that’s two hundred pounds gone in one night? That’s too much, even for a whole havoc of boggart-squirrels.”

  She turned to the farmer, her voice tinged with skepticism. “How many of them have you actually seen? And has anyone used the Analyze skill on them to confirm their stats?”

  The farmer pulled off his straw hat and turned it nervously in his hands. “Miss, I’m sorry to say, they only come out at night. And it’s dark out here. Not like in the city with all your fancy crystal lamp posts lighting every street. Out here, once the moon sets and the clouds roll in to hide the stars, it’s darker than the inside of a horse’s…” He stopped, glancing at the eager, wide-eyed faces before him.

  Alina snickered and mouthed “arse”.

  The farmer nodded, embarrassed. “I’ve only ever seen them at night. Racing into cover faster than the eye can follow. Of course I didn’t analyze them! How could I? I’ve just seen shadows. But what else could it be? We’ve always had problems with boggart-squirrels here. Just never that many and that bold.”

  Mirabelle was still crunching numbers in her head. “Beasts of that size can carry about the weight of a big nut, so about five grams per trip. Let’s say fifty trips a night… a hundred if they’re that fast… That’s a pound per night, per beast. They’d need 200 squirrels to do it.”

  Alina groaned. She waved the club she brought with her. “That’s ridiculous. We’d have to clubber beasties all night to kill 200 of them.”

  Weylan and Trulda exchanged glances. So many beasts would be a much more serious danger than expected. Weylan started a whispered conversation, while the priestesses continued questioning the farmer about the surrounding area.

  “Do you think they messed up with the quest? I doubt there’s two hundred of those beasties around. The farmers would have noticed such an increase in population long before.”

  Trulda looked around and nodded thoughtfully. “Something’s wrong here. Either the farmer exaggerates excessively or there’s something else hidden among the squirrels. Something much larger.”

  Weylan tried to use his quest system, but couldn’t access the quest since the system considered him involved. “The quest is rated for a team of three to four adventurers of level three to five. Even the upper limit is too low to allow for a giant swarm. Maybe it’s a mid-level beast?”

  “Small enough to hide, but with a much higher carrying capacity… Some kind of small bear?” Trulda stopped and nodded at the priestesses. “Look, they’ve come to the same conclusion.”

  Faya leaned in, eyes wide with excitement rather than fear. “Maybe it’s some kind of secret monster! Like, a big one that controls the squirrels! A boss boggart! Oh, we could be on the verge of a legendary quest!”

  The priestesses didn’t notice the team members all glancing at Weylan, who looked back a bit annoyed.

  “Or,” Alina interjected dryly, “someone’s exaggerating, and we’re chasing shadows.” She looked suspiciously at the farmer, who was clearly shocked by the accusation.

  Mirabelle ignored the bickering and turned to Skorr. “Either way, we’ll need to figure this out fast. If it’s just a huge havoc of boggart-squirrels, we need to find their nest. If it’s something bigger…” Her voice trailed off, and her expression grew thoughtful.

  Skorr nodded. “Then we’ll need to deal with it before it becomes a real threat. Let’s start by setting up some traps and keeping a close watch tonight. If there’s more to this than squirrels, we’ll find out.”

  The farmer looked relieved but still wary. “You’ll stay here tonight, then? Thank the gods. I don’t know what I’d do without your help.”

  Weylan patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. “Those three are among the elite the temple of Lieselotte offers. They will sort this out in no time.”

  The farmer seemed confused. “And what’s your task?”

  Weylan pointed his thumb at Trulda. “She’s their chaperone. I work for the baron’s steward. I’m here to estimate the tax deduction you’re eligible for due to extraordinary expenses. The dryad needs to assess the environmental impact of removing the boggart-squirrels and Skorr is our team leader and project manager.”

  The farmer moved his lips silently as he tried to follow the fast-talking Weylan, then turned back to the priestesses as they started pulling out stakes with copper inlaid runes and discussed the placement.

  Mirabelle quickly took control and directed the placement of the stakes around the barn.

  Alina pushed one into the soft earth, then stopped. “Oi, shouldn’t we first examine the barn to find out where the beasties entered before placing the ritual?”

  Faya just looked around confused, but Mirabelle cursed and stomped over to the barn. The others followed and went to the patched-up wooden building. The large doors were ajar. Inside, the barn was a mess.

  Tipped barrels spilled golden grain across the floor, forming small, scattered dunes. Scratch marks gouged deep into the wood of the walls and bins told of tiny but persistent claws. The team spread out, stepping carefully over the mess to avoid disturbing evidence.

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  Miabelle knelt by the wall, her sharp eyes tracing the jagged edges of some loose boards. She ran her fingers over the gouges, her voice steady. “Something’s gnawed and scratched its way through here. Judging by the size of the hole, it was just big enough for a squirrel or at most something only slightly larger.”

  Faya, already at one of the boarded-up windows, tapped lightly on the frame. “There’s a loose board here, too. Looks like another entrance they could’ve used.”

  A sudden bonk reverberated through the barn, drawing everyone’s attention. Alina stood a few paces away, leaning casually on a beam. She raised her hand and pointed unapologetically at yet another loose board. “Found one,” she said, smirking.

  Skorr held back Weylan from joining in the search. “Let them have this. If we join in, they won’t get much experience.”

  Weylan sighed. “I still think it would have been better to let one or two of them join our team, set it to give them all the XP and adventure on.”

  Trulda folded her arms, her expression unimpressed. “We’ve been over this already. To earn XP for the team, we’d need to take on quests or dungeons tailored for five level-six heroes. It would also mean leaving Ulmenglanz behind just to make space for the second priestess.”

  Weylan exhaled in resignation, throwing up his hands in a defeated gesture. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right. It’d be way too dangerous.”

  Trulda’s scowl softened. “They’ll get there in time, Weylan. Right now, this is their quest. Let them prove themselves.”

  The priestesses meanwhile inspected all the holes and possible entrances on ground level, then commandeered a ladder and examined windows and ledges. After about an hour of painstakingly searching the barn, including the visible floor for tunnels, Mirabelle stood there, scratching her head. “I don’t get it. There’s nowhere anything bigger than a squirrel could have entered. There’s three ways in, one of which seems quite fresh…” She glanced at Faya, who looked away with an innocent expression, then continued. “There are not nearly enough traces for the number of times the squirrels would have to enter and leave. They’d have to make hundreds of trips to carry off that much. Even if perfectly organized, with one entrance and two exits, running in a perfect row… This doesn’t add up.”

  The team watched while the priestesses returned to placing stakes around the barn.

  Weylan nudged Ulmenglanz with a curious expression. “Say, why do those level-three girls know how to set up a trap ritual?”

  The dryad gave him a stern look. “Are you asking why I can’t do something like that, or are you criticizing the goddess of home and family for the spells she grants her priestesses?”

  Weylan shrugged. “Both?”

  Ulmenglanz sighed. “Every god grants different spells. Priests can also learn standard spells, but it’s harder for them since they have to adapt the spellcasting methodology. And the spell must fit within their god’s domain. For instance, Pallandur allows his priests to learn combat spells, but Nistrul would never allow his priests to cast healing spells. Lieselotte, on the other hand, grants spells that protect home and family. That includes magical traps, warding circles, and all sorts of protective spells and rituals. I use life affinity mana, which restricts me to not using necromancy and most combat spells. Mirabelle is using a Zone of Slowness ritual trap. Most of its power comes from the stakes, which are artifacts specifically designed for this purpose. When the ritual is complete, anyone not from this farm who crosses into the warded area will be affected by a physical slowing effect. I estimate it’ll work on about one human or a dozen squirrels before the power runs out. It’s not a true temporal effect, so the target can still think normally, but their muscle movement will be significantly slowed.”

  “So, it won’t work against ranged spells or weapons?” Weylan asked.

  “It only works on living beings up to Apprentice tier,” Ulmenglanz clarified. “Don’t expect it to slow down a dragon.”

  “We could enter without being affected, though. Interesting…” Weylan looked thoughtfully at the area being prepared. “Something like that could be useful. Do you think she could teach you?”

  “Mirabelle mentioned the ritual casting time is about an hour. The stakes are also quite expensive, and the whole thing is immovable once cast.” Ulmenglanz glanced at the three priestesses chanting together. “Maybe not that specific ritual, but I’ll see if they know something a non-cleric healer like me can use.”

  Meanwhile, Skorr had been circling the area, carefully checking for tracks. When he returned, he reported, “There’s no way more than two dozen tiny beasts were involved. I’m positive they only crossed the area boundary once.”

  Weylan looked skeptical. “Didn’t you tell me your tracking skills are more suited for tunnels and caves?”

  “I’ve been improving ever since I got topside,” Skorr said with a hint of pride. “I’m not an elvish ranger, but I wouldn’t miss 200 sets of prints crossing the area boundary a hundred times. Trust me.”

  Weylan chuckled. “Alright, point taken. But then, what exactly happened here?”

  Skorr shrugged helplessly. “Damned if I know. I don’t get it either. But we’ll find out tonight. I suggest we rest until nightfall and then hide in the upper floor of the farmhouse to wait.”

  Trulda clapped a hand on Weylan’s shoulder, grinning mischievously. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the girls stay in their room and don’t wander over to bother you.”

  For once, the usually talkative assassin was left without a word.

  Ulmenglanz ignored the flustered assassin and looked around. “I’ll stay outside, hidden in the small cluster of trees over there. I’ll be able to spot and identify whatever it is we will face.”

  Weylan stuttered a sentence, then returned to his eloquent self. “Would… Can’t you identify the beasties? As a dryad, born with the blood of nature, the breath of the wild and the grace of a deer, that shouldn’t be difficult.”

  The dryad rolled her eyes. “I’ve looked at the tracks, but I’m just as confused as Skorr. Whatever it is, it has some ability to move without a trace. There’s a weird feeling of an aura I can’t place. It isn’t undead or something, but I don’t think it’s a fae creature. Even looking at the claw marks gives me the shivers.”

  * * *

  As the sun sank lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the barnyard, the group prepared for the night’s stakeout. The priestesses were ushered into their shared room on the upper floor of the farm, giggling and whispering about the day's events, while the rest of the team set up on the farm’s ground floor, ready to race outside if the monsters proved too dangerous for their protégés.

  Weylan positioned himself by a small window in the farmhouse attic, his keen eyes scanning the moonlit field.

  Trulda had an eye on the stairway to the first floor and the ladder to the attic at the end of the stairway. Just in case.

  The hours passed slowly, the night growing colder and darker as clouds obscured the moon. The only sounds were the occasional creaks of the house’s wooden beams. Weylan kept his focus on the field, watching for any movement.

  Suddenly, a faint noise reached their ears: rustling, like dry leaves swept by the wind. But there was no wind.

  Everyone froze, straining to listen. The rustling grew louder, accompanied by faint chittering noises. Weylan’s sharp eyes caught the faintest movement near the treeline.

  As small shadows began to slide across the harvested field, the priestesses’ ritual activated. A faint shimmer appeared in the air as the stakes lit up, marking the boundary of the trap. The first of the intruders reached the warded area and instantly slowed, their movements becoming sluggish and exaggerated.

  The priestesses stormed down the stairway and ran to the window.

  “It’s working,” Mirabelle barely managed to keep her voice low, “but we can’t really see them from the windows. Just small hopping shadows with tails. It’s too dark out there.”

  Alina was almost at the door. “Let’s get a closer look!”

  Skorr stopped her. “Let us first identify the threat. Ulmenglanz is out there. She’ll signal us if it’s okay for you to challenge them alone or if we need to join the fight. Keep looking for a light signal. She’ll use some luminescent moss she found on the way here, so it’ll be quite subtle…”

  His voice trailed off as a bright light appeared in the stand of trees where the dryad was hiding and started drifting in the direction of the barn. Then a another appeared. And more every second.

  Trulda stared out of the window at the fiery objects shooting out from beneath the trees. A growl of rage echoed through the night, which she could barely recognize as Ulmenglanz’s battle cry. To her that sounded worthy of a barbarian. Unusually fierce even considering the often quite emotional dryad.

  Something must have gone terribly wrong.