Little did we know that this innocent fun would be the start of a real catastrophe.

  Baroness Guelder entered the Beer Mug Inn, trailed by Pangur. As she stopped at Linzi’s favourite table and saw the bard scribble this sentence into her journal, she couldn’t help but shake her head with a smile. The event hadn’t even started yet, and Linzi already had her ideas on how to make it into a horror story to entertain her readers. Not that Guelder had no misgivings at all, but a real catastrophe, seriously?

  Indeed, they were having a monster situation. The invasive magical creatures were not only disrupting the ecosystem in the eastern part of Nightvale, but the number attacks on people was also on the rise. Tristian couldn't help determine whether the Cleansed were to blame. As he said, he'd never witnessed an initiate actually give birth to a monster, and the sacrament disturbed by Guelder and her team had yielded no information in this regard, either. Anyway, the cult had gone underground since the night of the full moon, likely biding its time to return in full force.

  After some brainstorming with her advisors, Guelder had grudgingly decided to ask for help. She'd intended to involve the Embeth Travellers, her old comrades from before her mission to the Stolen Lands. Kassil Aldori had insisted on calling upon the newborn barony’s international support network, if nothing else, to see who they could rely on in times of trouble. Linzi had made the clever suggestion of making it all into a game, a merry monster hunting competition, so that Guelder wouldn’t have to admit to her failure to handle the situation on her own. The baroness had contacted the Embeth Travellers and left the task of sending out the rest of the invitations to Kassil.

  There were very few factors that could possibly go wrong. The Embeth Travellers were seasoned hunters, as good at their job as elven rangers or maybe a little better, and also old friends of the baroness, ready and qualified to help deal with a monster invasion. It went without saying that Kassil would invite Lady Jamandi, in case she could spare some time (or people) for the event. The neighbouring state of Mivon would probably also send a few capable Aldori swordlords (what else?). Maegar Varn would either join in person or at least send a delegation, a handful of battle-hardened Varnlings, perhaps including General Darlac herself. Based on her previous experience, Guelder was looking forward to having the young paladin on board, even if she would need to keep Hazel leashed and muzzled. Hannis Drelev... well, he might be a problem, if he deigned to show up. But the only truly nightmarish element Guelder could imagine was Pitax. Apart from Linzi, nothing good had ever come from that state. It had taken much time and effort for Kassil to convince her that the Moskoni versus Pangur incident had to be counterbalanced with a nice gesture—provided that the Pitaxian delegation wouldn’t accidentally be devoured by a hungry hydra.

  A grey-haired man was sitting at one of the back tables, cradling a mug of Stagfall Stout and shooing away a flirty Octavia. Disappointed, the rogue-wizard left along with Regongar, whose grin didn't seem entirely sincere. Guelder let it slide, just this once.

  She had a dozen reasons to be forever thankful to Jamel Visser. About ten years her senior, the leader of the Embeth Travellers was like a second substitute father to her (the first being the late Master Thalion, the old grovetender of her home grove). After many years of roaming the forests and seldom shedding her leopard form, he was the one who'd reintroduced her into society, taught her to speak, read and write Common, and even forced her to familiarise herself with city life in the weird town of Uringen. Without his mentoring, Guelder would have stood no chance to deal with the challenges of her current position.

  The man's sharp grey eyes twinkled with excitement when he spotted the baroness. He rose from his seat and greeted her with a handshake and a hug.

  "Look at you, Guelder! Our leopard girl now rules a barony! And I'm glad to see Pangur, too. Beautiful, as he has always been."

  A heartfelt smile spread over Guelder's face as she settled down at the table across from him.

  "Good to see you, too, Jamel. I cannot thank you enough for coming to my aid."

  "Already dressed for the hunt?" he asked, measuring her up in her leather-reinforced, warm wool outfit. Guelder laughed.

  "You thought I would deck myself in silk and lace for the rest of my life, did you not? I am sorry to disappoint you. How are things in the Embeth Forest?"

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

  "Nothing has changed since you left. Except that we miss you dearly." He rummaged in his backpack, and pulled out a little pouch. "Here. Old Erinin from Nightmoss Camp sent you a little something."

  Guelder opened the pouch and emptied its contents onto the palm of her hand. A dozen tiny black morningstar heads rolled out of it, mixed among light brown seed husks.

  "No way!" she exclaimed, unable to control her excitement. "Edelcup seeds? And what is the other? Eugh... wolfsbane, right?" She quickly stuffed the seeds back into the pouch. "Please give Erinin my thanks and regards. You have no idea how hard edelcup root is to come by here."

  "A real life-saver, right?" he grinned. "For others, I mean."

  Guelder flashed a wry smile. Jamel Visser was one of the very few who could afford such jokes at her expense.

  "There is something else in that pouch," he said, winking at her.

  Indeed, Guelder's fingers felt out an even smaller pouch inside. She carefully fished it out and peeked into it. It contained some reddish powder, the colour of sun-dried bricks.

  "Oh... Is this what I think it is?"

  "Mhm. The best quality nightmoss spores. I hope you have suitable cypress trees to colonise."

  Guelder slowly nodded, her thoughts racing. She had a cutting from a murderous scythe tree her team had defeated in the Narlmarches, the cursed form of an unlucky dryad. With a lot of care and patience, she'd nudged it to take root, and it seemed to be developing into a healthy, normal cypress. If she sped up its growth, it could become the first host for the nightmoss spores. Then she could start a plantation near the abandoned settlement she'd obtained the cutting from, under the watchful eyes of Sable and her men, who would intervene in case the moss would prove invasive or otherwise harmful for the ecosystem. Bokken the alchemist could process the valuable plant into powerful healing potions. And that meant a source of income, something her barony could never have enough of.

  Jamel's voice woke her from her reverie.

  "Honestly, I don't think there is another person all across Golarion who could be made so happy with just a handful of flower seeds."

  Guelder smiled.

  "True. And now that I am sufficiently happy, let us talk business."

  The baroness spread out a map on the table. As Elina the innkeeper arrived with her usual Leaf-Lover's Delight, she used the mug to weigh down the parchment. She pointed at an X on the far side of the Shrike, a little inland.

  "There is an old hunting lodge here," she explained. "This will be the centre of our operation... I mean, of our game. It is spacious enough to house your crew and the guests from neighbouring countries. I want you to head there immediately with my special authorisation, and start setting up the competition. And also, the most important part."

  Guelder placed a small but heavy chest on the table.

  "Keep this safe. This is the prize for the winner. 2,500 Brevan gold pieces and 12 exquisite pearls."

  "Too bad," grinned Jamel. "I expected true Nightvale coins, with your face minted on them. Just kidding. This will do nicely."

  "I know it is not much, but we are a small startup barony, and our economy is not exactly soaring as yet. This is the most I could squeeze out of Hazel."

  "Hazel? You mean our Hazel Stormwalker? I never heard from them ever since they left for Grey Falls Lodge to become a Pathfinder. Did they end up here with you?"

  "Indeed. They failed the Pathfinder test, and instead they served as the bodyguard of a famous polymath until recent times. Now they are my Treasurer."

  The old hunter frowned, then shook his head incredulously.

  "I hope you didn't make a poor decision there... Anyway. This is what we'll do. We'll scout out the neighbourhood for the three most impressive monsters. Whoever obtains the heads of at least two of them wins the prize. If that will be the Embeth Travellers, I will accept the prize as compensation for my help. If not, my payment will be a bitter lesson about self-conceit proved wrong by reality. Trust me, we'll make this event a memorable pastime for all participants."