From the Collected Accounts of Thaenatos, Knight

(The order of these accounts is wildly disputed.)

🥖 On a Certain Bakery, Encountered Incidentally

I arrived in the Misty Thicket and made my way toward the bakery owned by JumJum Piebelly and her husband, as I had many times before.

Not out of urgency, but habit. The path bent as it always did, and I expected the familiar comfort of warm air and rising bread to announce my arrival well in advance. Instead, I heard the bakery before I smelled it.

There was commotion—footsteps out of rhythm, a voice raised in irritation rather than greeting, the unmistakable clatter of something set down harder than intended. It carried through the Thicket clearly enough to reach the road, sharp against the usual quiet. Only after did the warmth arrive, followed by the first trace of bread on the air, late and oddly subdued.

The building itself appeared unchanged, settled low into the earth, smoke rising in the steady manner of routine. Flour dust still marked the threshold. The oven still worked. Whatever disturbance stirred within had not yet altered the habits of the place, only their tempo.

I slowed my approach. Bakeries are not the type to have raised voices, and JumJum Piebelly had weathered more than one interruption over her years. Whatever had drawn sound ahead of scent was recent—and close enough to warrant attention.

I turned toward the door.

🦅 A Brief Observation of the Vulturarii on the High Ground

My order sent me to the high ground with instructions that required no embellishment. The Vulturarii had been sighted again, and the time had come to speak plainly, face to face, rather than through rumor or passing shadow.

The first indication of their presence arrived before sight. Wings moved overhead in intervals shaped by practice, and the wind carried a precision that spoke of formation rather than migration. Even the air felt accounted for, as though space itself had been assigned a role.

By the time I reached the rise, they were assembled and mounted, waiting as if the moment had been agreed upon in advance. Their armor bore the marks of long service, shaped by use rather than display. Helms turned together as I approached, not in challenge, but in acknowledgement.

No signal was given. None was required. The gathering held its shape, allowing me the distance needed to complete the approach on my own terms. The stillness carried intention, the sort cultivated by those accustomed to being watched as often as they watch in return.

The meeting had begun earlier than I understood, and I was simply arriving at the point where words might finally be exchanged.

Where does Thaenatos go next?

• 🥖 Enter the Bakery

• 🦅 Approach the Vulturarii on the High Ground

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