The town of Arcaster was tiny, so small and so distant from the rest of the kingdom that most maps had all but forgotten it. Griff’s first thoughts upon seeing it were that even calling it a ‘town” was too much credit. The road had turned to little more than a walkway through unkempt fields, so narrow his horse couldn’t walk through without the tall grasses brushing against her flanks. He could almost have mistaken it for a game trail, if it hadn’t matched the hand-sketched map so perfectly.

“You sure that map is accurate, mate?” A young man’s voice called out from behind him.

Griff turned in his saddle to glare at his apprentice, the bronze haired, golden eyed Reyland. He straddled his own horse just behind Griff’s, looking around at the fields, clearly both skeptical and bored at the same time.

“We’re close,” he rumbled back, “and do not refer to me as mate.”

The town was, in fact, already in view. It was just easy to mistake it for, well, a couple of shacks, rather than a town. The small wooden buildings, none more than a single story tall, were just visible inside the treeline ahead. Griff could see four at the moment, none large enough to house more than a single family.

The subtle clop of their horses' hooves led them into the town, and out of the overgrown wheat fields they had travelled through for the past few hours. The last town they had seen had been almost a full day’s travel ago, and even then, the town was completely abandoned.

With the Blight pressing so close to the area it was too much of a risk to stay.

It had been nearly a week ago, when the job had come through to Griff and his apprentice. Word of the small mining town’s refusal to leave their home had reached the Order, and he and Reyland had been sent to investigate. With how dangerous the area had likely become, what could possibly lead to an entire town deciding to stay in their homes? It made no sense.

But as they fully emerged onto the town’s central road, a simple dirt path, both of the men made the same observation.

...where was everyone?

“Hey, this is… something isn’t right here,” Reyland mumbled out. The casual young man from seconds ago was gone, and in his place sat a young warrior. He kept his head on a swivel, eyes sharp and his fingers twitching, ready to draw the shortsword at his hip at a moment's notice.

They were surrounded by houses now, and they were only becoming more numerous the further in they went. Yet, there were still no people. Every window was shut, and no lights could be seen from anywhere.

“...you don’t think the Blight got to ‘em, do you?” Reyland all but whispered.

“No, there’d be signs of a struggle. None of the doors are damaged even slightly.”

It was true, the apprentice realised, as soon as he took a closer look. None of the buildings looked disturbed at all, nothing like they had seen from other towns that had been attacked. In those towns, the doors had been ripped off hinges, windows shattered or torn out of their frame outright, and every exposed bit of wood had been left covered in claw marks. But there wasn’t a bit of damage to be seen anywhere here.

There just weren’t any people, either.

Griff slid deftly off his horse, followed quickly by Reyland, neither taking their eyes off the ghost town around them.

“Watch the horses,” Griff dismissed the younger man, tossing him the lead before making for a house at random. Reyland sputtered indignantly, but caught the leather line anyways.

The door was unlocked, and swung inwards with a great creaking at the slightest push. With nothing more than a quick glance inside, Griff confirmed what he had already suspected. The single room building was empty, the two beds inside unmade, and the small kitchen was a mess.

“Must’ve left in a hurry?” Reyland whispered from right behind Griff’s back.

Grif felt his jaw clench involuntarily at the unwelcomed sound. Turning, he found the young apprentice mere inches behind him, two horses in tow. Insubordinate little...

“Didn’t I tell you to stay with the horses,” the older man said back flatly.

“You just said to watch them, not that I had to stay put, no?”

“...just tie them up somewhere and make yourself useful,” Griff sighed.

Although some of the tension had left after Reyland's cheekiness, neither of the two men could fully let their guard down. They searched house to house, in near total silence, one standing tall and proud and the other slightly hunched and ready for action. But with every house they searched, they found more of the same. Every house was left, not in total ruin, but looking as if the family that lived there could come back at any minute.

“Hey, Griff,” Reyland called out suddenly from a house on the other side of the dirt path that functioned as a road. “Have you seen any dust inside these places?”

“No," he deadpanned back.

“Right… then, what’s with all this?” Griff was over at the house in a flash, and found his apprentice standing in the center of the house’s kitchen, where a handprint could be clearly seen in the thin dust on the counter. Not just the counter, but the entire building seemed to be covered in that same thin layer of dust.

“Odd,” Griff commented. Why would it be just this one house? "Could just be a single family that didn't clean as often, but somehow I doubt that..."

An idea struck Reyland then, and he turned to the wood stove where a pan and pot sat, as if having been just brought out to cook. Upon closer inspection, the handles of both were just as covered in dust as the counters.

“You’re right, if they were just messy, at least the handles would have been rubbed clean from using them.” Reyland said. He opened his mouth to speak more, but lost the chance as Griff strode out of the building and back into the street.

Reyland trotted out after him, a single glance at the older man’s furrowed brow enough to convince him to keep his mouth shut for the moment. He’d made the mistake of interrupting Griff’s thinking enough times to learn that lesson the hard way.

Reaching under his cloak and bringing out a waterskin of something very strong smelling, Griff paced in thought.

He and his apprentice had been sent to the town to both convince them to leave, and then escort them to the nearest city. The Blight had spread too close to the area, and with more and more people disappearing, the neighboring towns had sent messengers asking for aid, before packing up and leaving their homes.

But, for some reason, Arcaster hadn’t evacuated. The townsfolk had stayed hunkered down, and nothing was heard from the town for nearly a month after the neighboring towns had been emptied.

So why, then, did it seem as if the town had left? Just as importantly, where could they have gone?

“Reyland,” Grif said calmly, “are there other houses covered in dust?”

The apprentice didn’t waste time, running off to several houses farther down and checking quickly inside before calling back.

“Yeah! There’s a bunch more up this way… but they seem pretty scattered. I can’t find any sort of pattern to it.”

So they had left, but not all at once? Why would they ever leave in small groups, instead of at the same time?

Griff took another swig, the burn of the liquor mixing with the growing unease he felt. He knew the feeling well… he had survived as long as he had by listening to that gut feeling.

“Reyland!” He barked out, “we’re moving further in, grab the horses.”

They searched the town until dusk, nearly an hour later, but found nothing. More houses, in various states of disorganization and dustiness. No clues as to where the townsfolk had gone, or any signs of human life.

As the sun got close to disappearing behind the horizon, Reyland began eyeing the treeline with a narrowed gaze. He was acutely aware of the weight of his sword, and regularly grasped its handle lightly before going back to his search.

“How close did the scouts say the Blight had come to this town, again?” He asked Griff in a low voice.

“They didn’t. We are the scouts.”

“Right…”

With a sigh, Reyland leaned against the flank of his horse, a tawny brown mare named Lucy. She flicked her tail, before turning to look back at him.

“Yeah, I don’t like this either, girl,” Reyland whispered, patting her on the nose gently.

Every shadow was stretching out as the sun set and the deeper they became, the more paranoid Reyland became. The Blighted beasts were said to glow in the dark, but Reyland had never been close enough to the forest to encounter one before. He was straining his eyes more and more, trying to catch even the slightest glimpse of glowing eyes staring out at him from the bushes…

Until suddenly, there they were.

His shortsword was drawn in a second, his back to Lucy and a fierce glare in his eyes. Two, unmoving glows, side by side, rested somewhere beyond the treeline.

“Griff!” He yelled, refusing to so much as glance away from the glowing lights.

The other man appeared almost silently beside him in a matter of seconds, already lifting the hulking greatsword off his back, sheath and all. The two men stood side by side, ready and waiting for action…

And nothing happened. The lights never moved, there were no beastly growls or sudden flurries of motion. The lights simply glowed brighter as the sun lowered more, and that was all.

“...” The silence from Griff was tangible. Throwing his still sheathed greatsword back over his shoulder, the older man walked carefully towards the bushes. Pushing the branches off to the side, the two lights came more clearly into view, and their identity was revealed.

“Uh... I found the villagers?” Reyland said sheepishly.

The two lit windows of the distant church that had just come into view flickered as if in response. Griff raised an eyebrow back at his apprentice.

“Yes, and you pointed the way with your sword, naturally.”

“Ahaha…” More than a touch red in the face, Reyland slowly sheathed his blade at his hip while scratching the back of his head nervously.

Griff pushed his way through the bushes, and Reyland hurriedly grabbed the horses and followed. Neither horse liked moving through the bushes at first, but with a bit of coaxing they brushed through without much difficulty.

The treeline was really just that, a line. Maybe fifty meters from end to end, and they were back out into a clearing, this time at the base of a small hill. The church ahead was more clearly in view now, the largest building they had seen in the town yet. White washed boards, large double doors and a single tower dominated by a rusted bell. It wasn’t a large church by any standards, but looked easily large enough to seat the entire town.

Griff wasted no time in marching up to the doors and banging his fist on them. Reyland had just enough time to tie the horses down to the picket fence that surrounded the church before the door slowly creaked open.

The wrinkled face of a man barely as tall as Reyland’s chest peeked out with surprised eyes. After being so on edge for so long, the calming face of a simple old man was both relieving and disappointing.

“Hello,” Griff rumbled.

“Ah, h-hello, good sirs. Might I ask what you are doing in such a place as this?” The man responded, caught off guard at first but certainly not nervous.

“We’re with the Order. May we speak with the village elders?” Griff spoke formally, no room for nonsense or backtalk in his voice. Reyland sat back to watch with his mouth firmly shut.

“The Order...?" The man said in disbelief. His eyes raked over the two men outside, taking in the swords, the cloaks and armour all at once. Recognition filled his eyes, and he went from surprised to welcoming in seconds.

"Well, I suppose the elder would be me, these days, wouldn’t it? Come in then, it’s a smidge crowded here, but I’m sure we can find you a more comfortable seat than the front step.”