Pitch-black darkness filled the inside of the tent. Raindrops were drumming on the waterproof fabric, a little too close for comfort, and some water was seeping in under the tarp, too.

  Hazel's strong arms embraced Guelder's unconscious body, holding her tight, a bit less gently than intended. She squirmed and groaned in their embrace, but they didn't relent. They pressed their face against hers, inhaling her scent of plant sap and cat fur, relishing the warmth of her skin.

  "Guel," they whispered. "Whatever you are going through, it is not real. Just a dream, your brain playing tricks on you. You can break out of it."

  Guelder's eyes popped open.

  "Get off me!" she hissed.

  Hazel let go of her quickly, before they would get a taste of her claws, and rolled to the side.

  "What are you even doing in my tent, Hazel?"

  "Pulling you out of a nightmare, apparently. Sorry if I interrupted anything exciting."

  "You should not have. These nightmares are my warning. I must embrace them and experience them in every horrifying detail. They keep me aware of dangers posed by certain decisions."

  Hazel pretended not to hear the last part.

  "Also, it is your turn to keep watch."

  "Fair enough, then," she said coldly. "You can stay here. Make yourself comfortable."

  She crawled out of the tent, took her leopard form, and loped away to climb a sufficiently tall tree with a horizontal branch to sprawl on. Of course she was too resentful to use the comfortable blind Hazel had built yesterday. Hazel remained in her tent, relatively safe from the rain, basking in the warmth and the familiar scent she'd left behind, and closed their eyes, trying to get some rest and hoping that Guelder's keen senses wouldn't fail the team.

  After all, there was a small chance that the Treasurer of Nightvale would start the new day with a dwarven pickaxe in their skull. Dwarves were an arrogant bunch who didn't like being led along. And all that because of Guelder and her unrealistic ideals.

  Hazel was increasingly worried for the baroness. Her bold vision and best efforts couldn't change the fact that human progress and environmental destruction went hand in hand. Whenever she built a road or upgraded a settlement (like she'd started to do as per the agreement with Varnhold), trees would be felled, soil would be disturbed, habitats would be destroyed. Less damaging solutions required extra resources, time and expertise. Still, Guelder was hellbent on doing it as right as possible. As a druid, she was well aware of the risks and did everything in her power to mitigate them. In many cases, she did the preliminary surveys and risk assessments personally. However, most of her subjects were humans, with an established way of life she couldn’t change overnight. Compromises had to be made, and it took a lot of her time and energy to try and find some sort of balance.

  Still, the nightmares came, and for an elf, Guelder was unusually susceptible to them. Giant alchemy workshops leaking poison into the watercourses. Huge smithies spewing black smoke into the air, wrapping the sun in dark clouds. Animals going extinct because people thought them unsafe to be around, or just didn't care. Crazy and unreliable weather, resulting in droughts or rotting crops. She saw herself roaming a barren, desolate land, searching for the last swath of pristine nature, an impenetrable patch of forest that still held its ground against all odds, finding her way between thorns and vines and lichen beard into the heart of the tiny woodland, taking shelter under a shrub’s branches hanging down to the ground, rummaging for a shard of broken glass in her pouch, trying its edge on her finger, then feeling out a pulsating blood vessel on her neck, longing to feed the earth one last time, with her own lifeblood, in atonement for everything she’d done and failed to do. This was much, much worse than Davik Nettle's bloated corpse in the Shrike, but the baroness welcomed the warning. She had to be alert at all times, refrain from pushing Nature’s limits, and remember that humans and elves didn’t have more right to enjoy Nature’s resources than anyone else, including trolls, kobolds, mites, wolves, rabbits, centipedes, down to the last microbe in the food chain.

  Oh, how many times did Hazel listen to these rants.

  If Guelder was dancing on a blade's edge, well, so was Hazel. Perhaps even more so. They were enthusiastic about their role as Guelder's treasurer, and they wanted to make the most of it. Nightvale had to gain financial stability, and whatever Guelder said, that required some hard decisions. However painful it was for Hazel's ranger heart, sacrifices had to be made, resources had to be exploited, or else the land would remain an unkempt wilderness. A nation without industry was like a mutilated giant, and no infrastructure meant the land would be hard to defend from greedy neighbours who would have no qualms squeezing out its treasures to the last drop. Hazel couldn't build an economy solely upon the trade of items of magical or historical value looted from the occasional crypt or dungeon. Nightvale had plenty of resources waiting to be put to good use, and Hazel was happy to take responsibility, to shoulder some of the pain and guilt the baroness would feel about even the smallest-scale environmental destruction. This was the least they could do for Guelder and her dream.

  And so it came to pass that the field team had struck out to investigate the work of an illegal dwarven mining enterprise. Illegal, as in Guelder wasn't supposed to find out about it until it would bring some profit for the coffers, but as far as paperwork went, Hazel had issued an official permit, all signed and sealed. It would have passed under Guelder's watchful eyes just fine, if someone or something hadn't started to sabotage the mining operations and kidnap a few miners, which, in turn, was reported to the Regent.

  Predictably, when faced with the realities of the extraction site, the baroness hadn't taken it well.

  Hazel had travelled the world (or at least some parts of the continent) in the entourage of Jubilost Narthropple. They knew what to expect. They had been prepared for the sight of the wound on the landscape, the polluted water trickling into the river, the clearcut on the hillside for scaffolding material. It was something a true follower of Gozreh would never allow to happen (not that Hazel qualified as one, despite enjoying some of the deity's boons). Yet, Hazel had been ready to swallow this frog for Guelder.

  Today, Hazel had watched from the depth of their hood how the baroness had taken the dwarves' mining permit and ripped it to pieces. Then, as soon as they had been out of dwarven earshot, her wrath had turned against Hazel. The Treasurer was good at facing down storms, and ever since they had survived a lightning strike in their early years, no wrath of the elements could unfaze them, not even if coming from the eyes of a beloved person. They knew their position was safe by her side, as long as there was no other number-crunching candidate to replace them with. But that didn't mean it had not hurt at all.

  Come morning, Hazel popped their head out of Guelder's tent, their hands landing right in a puddle. The rain had stopped, but the ground was still muddy, as if Gozreh themselves were trying to stop the team from finding the kidnappers. As Hazel looked around, they suppressed a yelp and immediately scooted back to the safety of the tent, only peeking through the small gap between the front flaps.

  Guelder was having a visitor.

  The leader of the mining operation stood before her, all alone, wearing a safety helmet but otherwise unarmed. Unusually for a self-assured dwarf, she cowered before the baroness, looking even smaller than she actually was. Guelder loomed above her, beautiful and terrifying, undisturbed by a wet tress of hair sticking to her forehead.

  "Your Grace, I just came by to ask whether you've changed your mind by any chance. Because if you have, we're still available—"

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "We have nothing to discuss, Dri. Accept my sincere apologies for the false hopes my Treasurer might have fed you. My decision is final. You and your companions shall leave my lands in a week from the time I get your lost miners back to you, dead or alive. Should you miss the deadline, my soldiers will have permission to kill you on sight."

  "But... we found iron! How will you equip your soldiers without that? Do you expect them to fight with blades of grass?"

  "Life before riches, Dri. You had better take this to heart. Now head back to your men and start packing up."

  "Crawl back to your mountains, and never show your mugs here again!" Harrim showed up behind Guelder, shaking his fist after the departing dwarf. The sheer quantity of hatred he carried for his own kind was nothing short of amazing—but also understandable, considering how his people had excommunicated him for his lack of crafting skills, without even making an effort to find out what else he might be good at instead.

  "I never thought I would ever agree with a leaf-lover, but here we go," he grumbled into his beard. "Digging deeper and deeper, always craving for more, that's what my people is all about. And see where that gets them. Will they perish any less when the end comes? No."

  Guelder treated him to a smile.

  "Wise words, Harrim. There is no infinite growth. I wish more people understood that." Then she turned towards the tents. "Rise and shine, everyone! We have some lost miners to find!"

  The baroness didn't mind the soaked ground. The sooner she recovered the missing dwarves, dead or alive, the sooner she could be rid of Dri and her miners. So she set out on the trail, relying on Pangur's sense of smell.

  The trail led off the road, deep into the balding woods. The fallen leaves were slippery under their feet, and the mud stuck to their boots in big lumps. It was hard, if not impossible, to tread lightly and quietly. After Tristian tripped over a protruding root and fell prone, getting mud and leaf mould all over his pristine garb, Guelder had mercy on her companions and cast a spell on them to make their footsteps lighter and more sure. That helped a lot, while it lasted.

  The rain started again. Just a drizzle, cold and annoying, without the spectacular power of the storm, but getting under one's skin. Hazel felt thankful that their bow rested safely in a waterproof leather case across their back, and hoped they wouldn't have to use it today.

  Pangur halted in front of a thick growth of brambles, nettles, briars and all kinds of unpleasant vegetation, reluctant to go dormant even in late autumn. Hazel exchanged a glance with Guelder.

  "I do not like this," they said. "Too fresh and green for the season."

  "Agreed," said the baroness. "We are close."

  "Handaxe time?"

  "Yes. I can help restore it later, if it proves necessary."

  Valerie and Tristian exchanged a clueless glance.

  So Hazel set to work, while Linzi attacked a few late blackberries peeking from the thorny vines. Guelder shapeshifted and climbed a tree, then returned to her elf form and gave instructions for the work while perching on a branch. Even so, it took a lot of time and trouble to get through, and Hazel dreaded the time they would have to remove the plant shreds from their clothing.

  The team continued their way in single file across the opening created through the undergrowth, until they finally reached easier terrain.

  A crashing noise startled Hazel out of their thoughts, mixed with annoyed screams. As they looked up, they saw Valerie and Linzi dangling mid-air from a thick tree branch, wrapped up tightly in a net. Surprisingly, Guelder broke into a happy grin.

  "Brilliant!" she said. "My assumptions are confirmed. Everyone, stay here and do not move until I return. Also, do not touch the trap."

  Hazel exhaled loudly in frustration.

  "Guel, at least let me—"

  "It is high time you learn to take orders, Hazel," said the baroness, her smile fading as quickly as it had come. "Start regaining my trust by doing as I say and keeping the others safe. Hang in there, friends, I will sort this out as soon as possible!"

  Linzi giggled in the net. She seemed to enjoy the unintended pun as much as Valerie's similarly unintended closeness. Not even the armour seemed to bother her.

  "I'm glad your sense of humour is still intact, Your Grace!" cried out Valerie. "Please be quick about your mission, we're being quite uncomfortable up here!"

  "Speak for yourself, Valerie!" piped Linzi.

  To avoid similar accidents, the baroness shapeshifted again and chose to travel from branch to branch. She soon disappeared from sight, along with Pangur.

  For lack of anything better to do, Hazel sank back into their thoughts, and started to devise a plan to find out Tristian's dirty secret. The plan involved mischievous companions like Linzi or Octavia, a piece of underwear, and the Storyteller. It was high time for the old elf to prove his usefulness.

  Before they could get all the details in place, Guelder returned with a teenage girl and two other figures wrapped in green hooded cloaks. The girl had a long, dark blonde braid, a face like an irreverent bun, and piercing green eyes that immediately focused on Hazel. She probably had a special ability to identify renegade Gozrens. Hard times were coming.

  "Everyone," said Guelder, "meet Sable, spokeswoman of Oakstand Grove, and my new advisor on environmental matters. The druids of the grove showed their expertise in environmental impact analysis when they identified Dri Stinvag's mining operation as a threat to the local ecosystem, even though they could have chosen a more appropriate way to handle it. They have my promise that similar blunders will not happen again, and in exchange, I have their offer of support. As a first step, we shall include environmental crime as a punishable offence category in Nightvale's Criminal Code. Right, Valerie?"

  The Regent extricated herself from the net that Sable's men had just lowered from the branch.

  "As you wish, Your Grace," she said, mustering up her remaining dignity. "I'm relieved to see you're safe and sound. I was a bit worried when you ran off alone, considering the... reception we were met with."

  "Don't take that personal," explained Sable. "For some reason, the Stag Lord hunted druids. Some of us perished, others fled the region. No one can blame us for using efficient safety measures to defend ourselves."

  "And... how about the lost miners?" asked Tristian.

  "They are being dug up from the ground right now," announced the girl with a deadpan face. "Last time I checked, they were all alive."

  Hazel couldn't help but wonder when that last time had been, but Tristian just nodded in agreement.

  "We will escort them back to their colleagues together," said the baroness. "They will probably need a little healing. And maybe Linzi could teach them a lively marching song, so that they get out of my... erm, of these lands faster."

  "I bet they will go to Pitax," grumbled Valerie. "Just what we need. That treacherous Irovetti already has his eyes upon us, and now he will learn about our iron deposits, too."

  "Let him," said Guelder. "We might not yet be strong enough on our own, but we have allies. Should he raise a finger against my land, I will make him regret it bitterly."

  Hazel bit the inside of their mouth. In this bunch of extreme conservationists, Guelder apparently found her tribe, which would make it even harder for the Treasurer to do their job. Without a certain amount of environmental sacrifices, Nightvale would not have ore. They would have to settle for very limited quantities of timber, too, and let go of the dream of viticulture on the rich soil of clearcut forest patches. A strict system of custom duties on trade goods transported across the land would bring some income, but that would be far from enough to keep the state going.

  Still, Hazel refused to quit. If Guelder wanted to tie them up and make them dance, they were ready to do it for her... at least until she would see sense.