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While they’re talking the others go check on the merchants, healing those who are still alive, but returning with bad news about the others. 

“The Gnolls mangled the bodies too badly. No point in resurrecting a body missing vital organs.” The primary Healer for the patrol announces upon his return to the group. 

There is a gap in what healing spells can do. While alive, they can regrow lost limbs, organs and much more. But after death, regular healing has no effect, only resurrection. So if a body is missing essential parts necessary for life, they can’t be resurrected in the conventional sense. Cain had heard and seen that the undead don’t require all their organs, so they could be brought back that way, but not to true life.

Some species like vampires also have the ability to function without parts of their body for a time until they can be reattached. Even that has its limits though. 

The patrol doesn’t stay long, leaving behind the Darklight Host as well as one young Beastkin merchant with a very battered wagon and two guards. The guards are both second advancement warrior types, just over level 250, while the merchant is level 108. 

Goods are scattered all over the ground, while the young Rhino type Beastkin frantically tries to salvage what he can, the two guards engaged in a futile struggle to get the wagon repaired. There were thousands of small jewelry pieces in the cart, putting them in inventory would separate them unless you had a storage bag like the cosmetics bags that the ladies got from that shop in Tortuga. 

None of them are Guilded, standard for mercenary guards and not uncommon for merchants. Guild names makes them easy to distinguish, and a target for bandits if their Guild becomes well known. Only those with confidence in their strength join a Guild and not a less formal merchants association. The drawback is the lack of a Guild bank for essentials you don’t want in inventory. 

Sure, you’ve got over a hundred spaces, but the system still applies a portion of the weight to you, so having a heavy inventory can make it impossible to stand without great strength. Cain’s Companions don’t worry about that, their whole inventory is bags of candy and food with a few pieces of spare armor. They’re not trying to bring a whole merchant wagon with them. 

“I’ve got a Guild Bank available. If you’d like I can have a member send a spare wagon.” Mythryll suggests softly and the young merchants eyes light up before dimming again.

“I would appreciate it, but I have no coin. Everything was on my parents and their business partner, but none survived. Plus, we have nothing left to pull the wagon.” The Beastkin tips his nose horn in the direction of the wagon, where a set of four horses lie dead and partially eaten. 

That’s the other downfall of being unguilded or carrying a lot on your person. If you die, most of what’s in your inventory will be lost. It’s safe from theft in there, but it leaves nothing for an inheritance and it seems this merchant just lost his whole family. 

What should have been a simple trade route between the capital and a nearby city, one that dissension of travelers take every day, turned into a full on tragedy with the appearance of the high level Gnolls. Normally Cain would wonder how they got here undetected, but in Skyview, most of the army is gone, as are many of the Nobles who took care of the lands, so there was nobody to raise an alarm. 

If things are like this all over the country, it might be even more unstable than Cain had first thought. But it’s also a suitable level for him to hunt and train towards his next advancement. With that in mind, it’s more than worth it to help King James start to get things stabilized where they can. 

It’s not obvious if this tragedy was neglect or as James suspected, someone deliberately destabilizing the country, but it didn’t need to happen. 

[Can someone put a merchant wagon in the Guild Bank? Use the Guild Funds. There is a traveler in need here and I’ll pay it back in a few days.] Cain sends out to the Guild. 

[On it, I’m near the wagon maker anyhow. Does anyone need more ale?] Gramps sends back. The moonshiner that the Graska Dwarves usually order from is not far from the Wagon maker, that must be where the old Dwarf is hanging out this afternoon. 

More messages are exchanged, ordering Ale, whiskey, meatloaf and a variety of other things for the Guild, but Gramps gets right on the wagon request, having a stout, wide wheeled ore cart sent within the next 5 minutes. 

“Everyone gather what you can from the bodies, return the personal effects from his family to the merchant. But be discrete, then give them a proper burial. I’ll help the merchant load up the cart and Summon some Nightmares to pull it.” Cain whispers, sending the group out to clean up the battle field. 

The wagon the Beastkin was using looks to have been much more luxurious than the one Cain procured, but the new one is larger and stronger. “I found you a spare ore cart. Please accept it with my condolences on your family and friends. I’ll help you load everything up and I’ve sent the others to give your people a proper burial.”

The two guards look relieved, only if they make it to Long Fang City with the goods will they get paid, and they’ve also lost most of their team today. Money won’t make up for lost friends, but no friends and no money is definitely the worse option. 

The cover to the old wagon ends up being salvageable, and transferred to the new wagon, covering only the front half of the length. But it has their association logo on it, so when they get to their buyers, they have proof of identity. By the time everything is sorted and loaded, the graves are dug and it occurs to all present that none of them know who preferred what ritual. 

The Beastkin are content with just a burial, but the guards are a bit religious, Wondering if anyone knows a Cleric. Misha might not be one anymore, but the rituals are still in her memory, so she digs through her inventory for a suitable set of robes. It’s been a while since she needed to wear them, her best gear no longer looks very priest like, giving more of a dark Wizardly than Clerical vibe. 

It’s enough for the survivors, who are thankful just to be alive at this point, and Cain has Mythryll carve up a stone with the name of the mercenary and merchant groups on them, placing it on top of the filled grave before they leave. 

“We’ve got the cart ready to go now, I don’t suppose you’ll give us a hand pulling out would you?” The guard asks hopefully, looking to the hulking human form of Cain, which would usually indicate many points were put into STR.

“No need, I’m a Summoner, finding a wagon team is easy enough.” Cain summons a team of four Dwarven Mountain Goats, brown haired Beasts with curled horns, much larger than the diminutive miners they usually serve. Four is the standard team for a loaded Dwarven Ore cart, so they’ll have an easy job of it today. They’re not particularly fast, but they’re strong and they can walk for days without stopping. 

The daylight is starting to fade already, but nobody wants to be near a corpse infested battlefield overnight, so they start off towards Long Fang City, deciding that they can make it there for first light if they take turns driving the wagon while the others sleep inside. It’s slower than walking at their level, but there is safety in numbers, and the prospect of having a good sleep instead of traveling on foot all the way to Long Fang City is appealing. 

An enchanted lantern survived the carnage, which the guards hang on a long pole between the front Nightmares, lighting up the road in front of them. It’s made of flattened rocks and quite well built, with no signs of major ruts or potholes along this stretch, reducing their concerns about nighttime incidents. The wide wheels of the Dwarven cart also help. They are heavier and harder to pull, but don’t sink into soft ground as badly, or get stuck in the ruts made by the traditional narrow wagon wheels. 

Cain needs very little sleep, so he takes both first watch with the merchant and last watch before dawn, leading the wagon into the open ground around Long Fang City just as the sun comes up. 

It’s a beautiful place, though very rustic. The word City in the name is being very generous, Cain would be surprised if a thousand homes are built in the valley, and most of them are widely spaced log cabins giving room for a garden to be tended by every family. The variety of crops looks good though, so the city might be self sufficient for food, even without too much from the surrounding farms. 

There is a small village core, with pagoda style buildings, painted white with rusty red clay tile roofs, made from the local riverbank which Cain can see is the same color. The Manor is built in the same style, with a stone wall surrounding it and large gardens full of fruit trees and berry bushes. In fact, very few plants in Long Fang City don’t provide food or medicine of some sort. 

Cain isn’t sure who came up with that idea, but if they’re still alive, he intends to thank them if he can get his hands on that Fortress of a Manor. 

There is no city wall to the sprawling village, but many locals come out to see the merchants arrive, looking confused at the lack of guards and seeing only one young but familiar face. 

“Take the main street to the building downtown with the wagon wheel in the sign.” The Young merchant, whose name Cain learned is Jeff, instructs, trying to swat Laura away from his nose horn. 

While the unfortunate man was sleeping, the mischievous Dragon polished the horn to a high shine, blinding him when the sun hits it, but it turned out so well that she doesn’t want him to dull it back down again. 

Jeff sent the association a message last night, letting them know what happened and that they were still coming with the goods, so they’ve gotten space set out for him in a shop that they control. 

According to Jeff, everything in town belonged to the last noble, as there are no other Nobles in town who could actually buy the larger plots he preferred all the homes be built on. The Duke died along with his family in the succession battle, so it’s all under the administration of the former Seneschal, Damien.

He proves to be a very large werewolf, well past his prime, with neatly trimmed gray hair and a butler’s suit, but it’s clear to see that the locals respect him, by the friendly greetings he gets as he comes to meet the wagon.