The Henklomeon Steppe

The negotiations held between the historical coalition of nations allowed for, among other things, the strict definition of borders between countries. In ancient times, the land was fragmented into sovereign states held by warlords or particularly wealthy land-owners, and the infringement of borders was a common problem. With lines drawn on the map, it was now much simpler to enforce land ownership.

With that said, the Henklomeon Steppe was not represented by a single entity during the coalition that predated the Holy Alliance. Rather, a multitude of chieftains hailing from separate Beastkin tribes spoke on the steppe's behalf, as the country lacked genuine leadership and was underdeveloped to boot. Those chieftains were reluctant to join their banners under a single flag, and the coalition would not tolerate the emergence of independent states who were likely to war against one-another, and so the Steppe remained independent when the time came to form an alliance. Lacking support from other nations ensured that the northern wasteland would not develop as quickly as its neighbours, and 500 years after the fact, it had remained mostly unchanged.

A warm breeze flew down over the bare hilltop gullies as Barion's wagon moved out from the passes of Tor's northern mountains, exposing a sprawling series of plains that dissolved into the horizon. It was indeed a land of nothingness, though patches of woodland and rock formations were not entirely uncommon. It had been three days since the wagon had strayed from the closest marked path, but a compass had seen them safely along their way.

"The stone's getting warmer…" With the reins in one hand and a glowing, crimson stone in the other, Barion muttered those words, "It's going to be a nightmare finding a Demon in this place."

"Might I suggest that we search for signs of life before going on the hunt?" Fusala, who sat freely beside him, suggested, "Establishing a base of operations should be our first priority."

"That'll be difficult with no villages around. The Beastkin are nomads, after all."

"This is true. Without a capital, and considering the aggressive wildlife, finding time to rest during our stay will pose quite the challenge."

"We'll look for water first. A river, or something like it." Barion decided, "Tribes will often set up near sources or forested areas nearby those."

"Are you particularly well-versed in the ways of the Beastkin, Barion?"

"I would say I know about as much as anyone else."

"We should be cautious, regardless. Many Beastkin tribes are not above consuming the flesh of humans."

"That's just a myth." He corrected, "They're peaceful. We'll be fine."

It wouldn't be a good idea to linger on the open plains for long. Predators of the Steppe were renowned for their ability to track prey across incredible distances, and being visible would make it all the simpler for them to be spotted by an unconquerable Garuda when they became active around dusk. Looking up towards the sky, Barion saw that noon had just passed them, and so quickly set the two of them along their northward way.

Those who were known as explorers during times of antiquity spoke gravely of the Steppe's dangers, claiming that the vicious fauna and flora were so aggressive that a constant sense of alertness had to be cultivated in order to keep oneself alive. Barion knew those claims to be exaggerations, but was well-aware of the fate that awaited those who didn't pay close attention to their surroundings.

After an hour, they had proceeded far enough to look back and witness the full splendour of the southern mountaintops, taking care to cross into wooded areas whenever possible. As he closed his eyes to yawn, Barion was pulled back to reality as a strange sound ringed out all of a sudden, and a hexagonal field flashed around the perimeter of the wagon. Squinting to adjust his eyes, he witnessed an otherwise unassuming vine slowly curling up to the canopy, and upon its end was a sharp appendage that glinted with sharpness.

"It appears my Aegis of Repulsion is working as intended." Fusala looked from side to side as she said that, "However, I am unable to see the creature that attacked us."

"It's a Hookvine." Barion replied, "Look up towards the treetops."

Above them, there was a barely-visible conglomerate of squirming, worm-like vines that hovered among the branches and leaves. As if examining the wagon, their bladed ends scraped against the invisible forcefield which had formed around it.

"The main body is somewhere up there." He continued, "If the two of us were unprotected, it would have cut us both to pieces in seconds. It parasitises the trees and uses their root network as a kind of sensing organism which picks up tremors in the ground."

"Very fascinating." Fusala admired the plant, "The low light and hidden form of its limbs makes for a stealthy adversary. One would be hard-pressed noticing such a creature lingering above them."

"The nectar they make is delicious, though." Barion continued, "Some tribes like to mix it with alcohol to give it a strong sweetness. Their blades are sharper than iron weapons, too, so it's possible to make really effective carving and butchering knives from them."

"You seem quite well-versed in the creatures of this place."

"I wouldn't say that. 500 years has given me a chance to encounter a lot of things, that's all."

That particular stretch of woodland was long and peppered with life, keying Barion into the possibility of there being a clean source of freshwater close by. Swarms of biting insects enveloped the wagon's barrier, incapable of understanding that it was impossible to break through. After a while, Barion raised his head as a distinctive sound could be heard rushing in the distance.

"Do you hear that?" He asked.

"Yes. I believe a river may be close by." Fusala confirmed, "However, it is becoming quite a hassle to manoeuvre the wagon in this place. Would it not be more effective to continue on foot?"

"Even if it would be faster, once it's out of sight, finding the wagon again will be a real hassle. We don't have any accurate maps showing the layout of these woods, so for now, let's just try to get as close as we possibly can to the river. That way we'll know easily where the wagon is."

What few small mammals could thrive in the wasteland of the Steppe were concentrated there, near sources of water and greenery where concealing oneself was made much simpler by the presence of the region's thick-leaved plants and dense foliage. Their pace through the lush woodland was glacial, but Fusala's recently-synthesised Aegis of Repulsion ensured that no danger could come to them or the wagon.

Coming upon the river as the sounds of its rapids became more apparent, Barion admired the thriving, lush paradise that had developed around its bank before commanding the horses to trot along its perimeter.

"There's no chance that a Beastkin tribe won't hear us coming." He warned, "I did say they were peaceful, but they're also the kind of people who are wary of outsiders."

"I understand. I shall hide my presence at the earliest inclination-"

There was a sharp sound as Fusala replied, and the same, magical rebound of a projectile bouncing off of the wagon's barrier. Looking towards the ground where the sound had originated from, Barion could clearly see the sharp head of an arrow resting among the grass.

"Too late." He clicked his tongue, "We've already been found."

"How unfortunate. What is our plan?" She asked, "...Barion? What are you-"

She called after him as he descended from the driver's seat and walked freely beyond the range of its magical shield, bending down to retrieve the arrow and lifting it to inspect the craftsmanship.

"It's been blunted…" He observed, running a thumb along its tip, "A warning shot?"

"Do not move, or you will find another in your back." A feminine voice called.

Behind him, the twisting sound of a bowstring being drawn was followed by a concentrating silence.

"We're just travellers." Barion defused quickly, "Searching for something."

"You-" Sounding surprised, the unseen woman straightened her posture, "You speak the language of the Beastkin?"

"Bits and pieces." He answered, "We were looking for a tribe, actually--a safe place to stay. It's too dangerous setting up camp with just the two of us, you see."

"And what is this companion of yours?" The girl asked, "It has the look of a Demon."

"It's a Homunculus." He was truthful, "She's a talented alchemist."

"I am not sure whether to believe your words or not."

"I'm not asking you to." Barion kept his back turned, "But, we aren't your enemies."

There was a moment of silence, but he eventually heard the woman's footfalls rearranging and the clacking of her bow being returned to her midsection. Taking that as his opportunity to move again, he turned to face her fully, spotting a pair of long, fuzzy-white ears sprouting from the top of her head.

"Rabbitkin?" He wondered aloud, "I thought those were nearly extinct."

"Perhaps in ancient times, but our numbers have surged in the passing centuries." She responded, "As I understand it, relations between tribes were not so peaceful in the past."

"You have no idea…" He muttered under his breath, "Thanks for not shooting us, either way."

"I am still reluctant to believe that this 'Homunculus' of yours is peaceful." She furrowed her brow, "A creature wreathed in shadow has no place in the world of the living."

"If she could understand you, that'd probably make her a little upset." Barion smirked, "Fusala. Come here."

Stepping down from the wagon, the rabbit-girl took a few steps back as Fusala proceeded to Barion's side.

"I am perfectly capable of interpreting the words of the Beastkin." She asserted, "However, it surprises me to see that you are fluent in the tongue, Barion. It is not an especially common language."

"Like I said, you pick things up after living for so long."

Turning to face the Rabbitkin, Fusala bowed, "I must apologise for my appearance. My name is Fusala--an alchemist, as my comrade has previously stated."

"Hoh. It even talks." The girl tilted her head, "You two make quite the odd pair. I have seen a handful of humans before, but never any who brought an entire wagon with them."

"I'm a trader." Barion claimed, "We have plenty of spare food and ingredients, if you're interested in making a deal."

"Such things are better discussed with the elder." She replied, "We intend to break camp in a matter of days. You mentioned being on the lookout for something?"

"If I told you what it is, you probably wouldn't believe me." He decided not to afflict the girl with fears of a Demon, "Is your tribe moving somewhere in particular?"

"Elder Mantan of our tribe has been chosen as an envoy to attend this year's summit." She explained, "We will be travelling west, to the plains of Ip in order to meet with members of other tribes to renew alliances and bring gifts."

"Would you object to us coming along with you?"

"It is not for me to decide." Saying that, she shook her head, "If you intend to follow, I am willing to introduce you to our elder. What happens from that point onwards is completely out of my hands."

"That's all we really wanted." He crossed his arms, "Is it far? Your camp, I mean."

"Not at all. It will be a trial untangling your wagon from this woodland, but I imagine we will reach our destination before nightfall, if we begin moving as soon as possible."

"Lead the way, then. Our wagon's protected by magic, so we won't have to worry about getting attacked by anything, for the most part."

"Then, allow me to introduce myself properly." Standing up straight, the girl bowed to each of them, "I am Pale, of the Rabbitkin. It is a pleasure to meet you."