The Red Ravine

Traxler opened his eyes, rolled out of bed, and immediately ran to his mailbox.

Is it here, is it here?

He frantically clawed through the assortment of letters from internal revenue impersonators, disgruntled neighbors under house arrest, and confectioneries that were really fronts for drug cartels asking for tasters.

At last, he found it. An inconspicuous letter with that distinct seal– eight stars surrounding the signature of Larrite Hassenpiron, ruler of Qrooq (and more importantly, prime sponsor of the Daphinde).

He tore it open with gusto, and unfolded the paper containing his mission. The letter stated:

Greetings, explorer 38c.

You have been selected for mission C - Red Ravine. Further instructions will follow through means of electronic communication.

Arvon Brood

Traxler’s heart sank. He hadn’t been “selected” for mission C, he’d been rejected from missions A and B. This was a disgrace! But he expected nothing else; the Daphinde selected purely on qualifications, of which Traxler currently had few.

He groaned and considered dropping the mission. But that would mean consequences for him, especially monetary ones that Traxler could not afford.

He had really wanted to investigate the robberies at Alve, the most well-known and quite grand town along the border of the Unexplored. The thrill of putting his mind to the test against an elusive criminal organization was too much for Traxler to resist signing up for Mission A, though he knew the disappointment he would face after his inevitable rejection.

But there was no time for Traxler to mourn. Daphinde would probably send the message to his exploration device in about an hour. He opened a shelf below him. He grabbed a few nutrient bars and a flask of water, and threw the items into his explorer’s backpack. His heavier equipment was already inside.

One of the things Traxler appreciated most about his life was freedom; sure, his apartment might be rather small, owned by an alcoholic landlord who didn’t care that the paint was peeling off the walls, but he was not anchored to the place by any responsibilities. His mother and father both had jobs that forced them to live on the other side of Donkeybad. He had no significant other, siblings, or even close friends for that matter. Most of all, he had no wish for things to change.

Traxler hurried over to his small but clean bathroom and brushed his teeth as carefully as he could. He was not one to be overly obsessed with every daily task, but hygiene was important for an explorer.

He tore off his undershirt and removed his belt, letting his pants fall off his waist. He turned on the shower and let the cold water flow onto his body, awakening his muscles. He breathed in deeply.

His mission today may not be the most glorious or rewarding, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t give it his all. Unlike many others who were a part of the Daphinde, Traxler genuinely enjoyed his job, not what he might gain from it.

All three of the missions the Daphinde had posted had to do with the Merchants’ Convention that was going take place at Alve, near Gate I of Qrooq bordering the Unexplored-3. From what Traxler had heard about Mission C, he would be helping guards carry important cargo and navigate the uncontrolled parts of the border. Why anyone would want to send their cargo deeper into Alve, where industry and security had not been set up yet, Traxler did not know. It was not his job to question, after all.

He hadn’t been given a mission like this before, for sure. Most of Traxler’s missions included investigating some new species of plants near one of Qrooq’s borders. Daphinde didn’t think Traxler was capable enough to actually delve into the Unexplored yet, and he didn’t necessarily disagree.

But he didn’t just want to continue with such modest missions. His hunger for adventure would never be satisfied by what menial tasks the Daphinde tasked him with. Traxler was patient, but he also had ambition. He wanted to see the world, see things that no one had ever seen, things that no one should see.

He had his father to thank for this. He had instilled in young Traxler the lack of value of material objects; his father had left all that he owned, all that he lived for and all that he felt entitled to after the uprisings of Donkeygood and took enormous risks by venturing all the way into Qrooq. His wisdom, along with his mother’s, was what led Traxler to his dedication to exploring from a young age. It was undoubtedly his past, present, and future.

Traxler stepped out of the shower, drying himself and putting on his Daphinde uniform, a slightly modified version of the Qrooq military uniform. The relationship between the Daphinde and the government was strange; very few officials supported it or even acknowledged it, with the exception of Hassenpiron, the ruler of Qrooq. Hassenpiron was a mysterious man with his own motives, following the persona of most of his predecessors. He was less involved in actual politics than one might expect from someone of his position.

Beep Beep Beep! That would be the Daphinde contacting his communication device. He didn’t even bother reading the message. He already knew what it was. Traxler grabbed his backpack and ran out of the house, ready to confront his next mission.

---

In a few minutes, Traxler reached Public Transport C of Donkeybad. No one else was with him. The station was never busy during the mornings, as most people worked close to home. This particular station was the least reputable of the transports but also the easiest to get into. After all, the station was nothing but an assortment of rusted metal poles and rails; the government tended to be biased in the areas it decided to fund. They believed in rewarding only those who showed the most potential.

Traxler had been waiting for a few minutes when, at last, the bus arrived. The bus itself could only be described as a metal box with wheels. He jumped inside, and was immediately hit with the stench of sweat. He sat in one of the corners, ignoring the other shady figures skulking inside. He absorbed himself in his book while he waited to arrive at headquarters.

The book, titled “Records of the Illustrious Groont”, was the work of Arrus Groont, one of the ancient pioneers of agriculture and a founder of the Daphinde. His knowledge of the sciences was already ahead of his time. But Groont was also concerned with the history of civilization. He considered his progress in uncovering the mysteries of humanity’s past to be his most impressive achievement..

After five minutes, the bus stopped. There was no announcement as Bus C had no speakers, of course. Traxler waited until the shady figures had shuffled out of the bus and hopped outside. He was in a dark dirty alley squeezed in by two incredibly tall brick walls; this was Street 771. It was dark and musty, reeking of burnt trash and suspiciously-scented residue.

Traxler walked a few hundred yards before pulling on a subtly marked door camouflaged in the brick wall on his right. He took a very particular path in the old abandoned building, being sure to avoid any people that wandered about. He took a staircase to the highest floor, a long array of rooms with a narrow corridor between them.

He took out a bronze key with the Daphinde insignia and inserted it into the third door on the left. It swung open.

As he stepped into the waiting room and shut the door, all the bustle below seemed to evaporate. The walls were soundproof, and the blue tint of the lights gave the room a calm atmosphere. The main reason the Daphinde chose such an unconventional location was the anonymity it provided.

“Hey, Mennin,” Traxler said, greeting the man who sat at the desk in the entrance. He would be mostly seen answering calls and working on the Daphinde’s logistics here; However, like most members, he had some very special abilities.

“Hey, Trax. Arvon is waiting for you in room 18.”

“Thanks.”

Traxler walked into the hallway. Most of the rooms were open and unoccupied. Today was not a busy day for exploring, it seemed.

As he stepped into room 18, he almost thought it was unoccupied; but no, Arvon was just being unnaturally still as usual, hiding in plain sight among the black desks and shelves.

“Greetings, Traxler.” His voice was plain and monotone. Arvon was a perfect recruit for the Daphinde; responsible, organized, unquestioning, rarely doing more than asked, but still diligent.

“Hey! Mr. Brood!” Traxler replied. Arvon winced. No one addressed him by his last name other than Traxler, but he found no reason to protest as it was still a correct way of addressing him. It was somehow a source of embarrassment. At least, that’s what it looked like to Traxler.

“As you know, you have been tasked with Mission C - the one involving the Red Ravine. I apologize, we have not had the staff today to issue more details. Most of our members seem to subscribe to a religion that prohibits working on specific days, and this is one of them.”

Traxler suppressed a laugh. The staff would do anything to avoid coming to the building on days like these, when there was little work to do. Only Mennin and Arvon stayed in the headquarters, Mennin because of his discipline and importance to the organization, and Arvon because of his obliviousness.

“So, what do you know already?” Arvon asked.

“I’m with a group of explorers. I’m transporting some package to the Red Ravine of Alve, just inside the border of the Unexplored-3.”

“Good, good. You will also be with some mercenaries hired by the commissioner of this task.”

“Mercenaries?!”

“Yes, the cargo seems to be precious. They are the personal guards of the person who has asked for this to happen, the commissioner.”

What could be inside?

“And that is about all we know. Again, I apologize. We forgot to ask the main HQ for more details” Arvon glanced at his watch, mostly for the sake of doing so since there was a large clock on the wall he was facing.

“Oh, it is time for you to go. You have thirty minutes to arrive at the Daphinde headquarters at Alve.”

“Thirty minutes?!” The drive itself would take an hour.

“Yes, you should probably be heading out now.”

The Daphinde never was known for its timeliness.

---

As soon as the bus stopped at Alve’s entrance, Traxler jumped outside and started running. He was already half an hour late.

He felt dwarfed by the size of... everything. Tall buildings for other scientific or exploratory organizations surrounded him, and the nature that peeked through was all tall, venerable trees. The entrance itself to Alve was also quite intimidating: a massive gate of brightly painted steel beams with security persons on either side, it was the first warning of what you were getting yourself into. The Unexplored had been protected well by the governments of the world for a very long time, at least a thousand years. Some universally honored agreement established by all the major nations decided that civilization was not to expand any further. There was some complex and muddled history behind all of this, but Traxler wasn’t really concerned about it. Or at least, he wasn’t anymore. Most agreed that the reasons for the protection died with Heraldin Zonfray, the fourth ruler of Qrooq, or were only passed down to successors.

“Hi!” Traxler waved to one of the security people. “I have my ID. I’m from the Daphinde.”

She checked his Daphinde card and he was let inside immediately.

Though explorers were certainly respected by border control, there were only a select few places they were allowed to go. Any location that had a failure-to-return rate that was not negligible was deemed illegal ground. Only the very best explorers with the greatest credentials were allowed to scout new areas. If they didn’t return, or had any doubts about whether it was safe or suitable for exploration, the area was not cleared.

Currently, they were three major areas of the Unexplored that were available for exploration, suitably named the Unexplored-1, Unexplored-2, and Unexplored-3, which could all be reached from the Great Gate I of Qrooq. They all consisted of forest-like areas with relatively few new species, most of which were harmless. But that was a very, very small part of the unexplored. Researchers theorized that most of the Unexplored was below sea level by huge margins. It made sense, since most of the border to the Unexplored (North of Qrooq and East of Crocsarkool) was a cliffside of unknown height. No other stretch of land at an equal elevation had been spotted, either, though it was hard to see anything because of the amount of mist that surrounded the border. It was almost like nature didn’t want them to venture off course either.

The Unexplored-3 was currently the hottest area of exploration. Because of the limit on the number of people allowed outside at a time, they hadn’t made too many groundbreaking discoveries. But interestingly, according to reports that had been disclosed, remnants and artifacts of prior civilizations had been found.

Traxler’s goal was to become one of those explorers, and his first step would be showing prowess in more mundane missions such as the Red Ravine.

His walk had taken him to the entrance of the Daphinde headquarters. It was much more pleasing to look at than the location in Donkeybad. It had a modern look and feel, built from steel and glass, and had a bluish texture in the bright sunlight. Tall trees loomed overhead, as they did everywhere in Alve.

He stepped inside. It looked like everyone else was already here. He counted five other explorers like him, wearing brown Daphinde uniforms, and about two dozen others he assumed to be mercenaries. He walked towards the explorers, who were in the middle of an intense discussion.

“-- and that’s what I’ve been thinking about, isn’t it weird how spontaneous those robberies are?” asked one of the explorers. He was a man of medium height and slender build; his uniform was a little too big for him. Perhaps he had lost weight.

“Yes, Rolt. I have some ideas myself about what criminal organizations are behind this. It’s sad we aren’t investigating that,” responded a tall woman with a very sharp voice.

The other explorers agreed.

“Hello, fellow explorers!” Traxler interjected. “I am also very saddened by this. Splendid, we have so much in common! My name is Traxler. I assume you have names as well?”

The other explorers evaluated this newcomer, and didn’t seem to like what they saw very much.

“I’m Merk,” said a tall, pale, lean man with a slight hunch and the unnerving aura of a sociopath.

The rest followed suit, introducing themselves and stating where they were from. The man who talked about the robberies was Rolt, and the tall woman with dark hair was Anda. There was also a powerfully built man named Chad, and a quiet woman named Reuce, who was Merk’s younger sister. All of them, except Traxler, were from Silod, where most of the best explorers came from. It was also the capital city of Qrooq, and was starkly different from Donkeybad though not very far away.

“Well, your names are very satisfactory,” said Traxler, awkwardly. He was the kind of person that one would describe as both very social and socially incompetent.

“Traxler, what do you think is in that coffin?” asked Chad, pointing to a large coffin of high quality

wood that was the object of interest of the mercenaries.

“Well, a dead body, I suppose. Why is it here?”

Chad looked at him. “That’s the package we are to deliver.”

“Oh... I’m guessing we can’t look inside?”

“Precisely,” said Anda. She didn’t seem pleased with Traxler’s obliviousness.

“So, what are we actually helping with? Like, the job description said we’re helping the mercenaries navigate the terrain, but what exactly does that mean?” Rolt looked around at the other explorers, scratching his short brown hair.

“I’ve been here before,” answered Traxler. “The path to the red ravine is mostly grassy, with some very sticky marshland along the way. We have to look for potholes and the occasional poisonous plant.”

Rolt nodded. “I’m sure we all have the credentials to do that much at least,” he said, chuckling. Traxler wished they wouldn’t keep bringing up the fact that they got rejected from the more interesting missions. He was trying to stay optimistic.

“HEYHEYHEYHEY!” A very large man in colorful clothes with an appropriately loud voice yelled at the group from the center of the waiting room.

“Everyone! I am the leader of the mercenaries. You can call me Big Boss Brody, or just Boss for short.” The mercenaries cheered for their boss, who seemed to have their utmost respect and loyalty.

“You!” he said, pointing to the group of explorers. “Don’t go around thinking you’re better than us! You can hang around and tell us when you see flesh-eating mushrooms, but don’t expect us to treat you like first-class citizens! Don’t underestimate our capabilities on our own.”

“We promise not to do so, my venerable commander Big Boss Brody,” said Traxler solemnly. He heard Reuce worriedly asking her brother if there really were any flesh-eating mushrooms on their expedition.

“GOOD!” he said, looking pleased with himself. “Our anonymous employer, who we shall refer to as the Commissioner, has asked us to deliver this package to the Red Ravine, and we intend to do so. Explorers, we will protect your fragile bodies, and our fragile cargo, with a strong sense of duty! Now, it is almost daybreak! Time to begin! Let us go to our vans, which our mercenaries and I have kindly stationed outside the building!”

It was actually about eight hours after daybreak, but of course that did not matter to Boss.

The group of mercenaries and explorers gathered outside near the vans, which were parked under some trees on the side of the road that would lead them to the first Gate of Qrooq.

“So, what do you think of our leader?,” said Traxler, trying to make conversation with his fellow explorers.

“I would like to stab him,” said Merk, his sociopathic tendencies shining through.

“He’s an attractive leader, in a kind of way,” said Anda, then proceeded to say “No, not that kind” as Reuce gave her a disapproving look.

“What a loudmouth! But he reminds me of my uncle,” added Rolt.

“Very nice! Excellent walking!” Boss was talking again in his unnecessarily loud and patronizing voice. “It is time... to decide each car’s passengers!” He clapped as if this was a grand ceremony, and his mercenaries began clapping as well.

“He has an uncanny hold over his mercenaries.” said Chad. “It’s like they’re all controlled by the same brain, and it seems that there just aren’t enough brain cells to go around.”

“OK! Explorers, you will stick together to avoid unnecessary discrimination! My second in command Nickwell and I will go with you so we can all be acquainted. Mercenaries, sort yourselves out in a civilized manner, and decide who will take the cargo! Now, populate the automobiles!” Boss finally took a breath and jumped off the ledge he was standing on to give his glorious announcement. The explorers followed him into a van colored an obnoxious bright green with the name “Brody” spray painted in purple carelessly on the door. Traxler, Chad, and Anda occupied the second row while the other explorers took the last row. Boss was in the passenger seat. Nickwell, a tall and very muscular man sat in the driver’s seat. He had a shotgun strapped to his pants that he clearly wasn’t trying to conceal in the slightest.

“So, where are we driving?” asked Traxler. He already knew they were going to the first gate, but he had the habit of asking unnecessary questions. Nickwell slammed his foot on the gas before anyone could answer the question, and everyone lurched forward in their seats except Nickwell. He only hummed peacefully, apparently accustomed to this dangerous style of driving. The ground was somewhat rough and uneven, but Nickwell’s driving made it seem like their tires were clambering over jagged boulders.

“Ha! I would think you should know that already, being an explorer!” said Boss, wagging his finger at Traxler. “But we are driving to the first Gate of Qrooq.”

“Hey,” said Rolt. “Merchants!”

Traxler looked out the window. He was right. Visibly wealthy people were walking on the side of the road, probably to meet their own merchant groups and discuss deals.

“I hope we see one of them getting robbed,” said Rolt.

“Not likely,” said Merk. “No one has actually seen any of the robberies taking place. Things just disappear.”

“Wonder if our package has any connection with the robberies... Maybe some rich guy wants to sell what’s inside, but knows he can’t trust the vaults here? So he hides it somewhere he knows no one will go?” Traxler scratched his head in thought.

“Not likely. I don’t think he’d trust a bunch of mercenaries and some mediocre explorers,” said Anda.

Traxler looked at his feet, wondering why in the world anyone would want to send anything out in the Red Ravine. Maybe there was a body in the coffin, and the Commissioner wanted to give that person a special burial? No explanation made much sense.

When he looked up again, there was a shotgun barrel in his face.

“Don’t try to discern the Commissioner’s motives,” said Nickwell, his black eyes like steel and expression stone cold.

“Whoa,” said Traxler, slowly moving away from the shotgun. “I... apologize.”

“Hey! Watch the road!” yelled Boss. Nickwell finally removed his gaze from Traxler and the car swerved as he moved its trajectory away from a ditch. What is wrong with these people? At least the other explorers were semi-normal.

“He was just joking,” said Boss, sounding more like he was suggesting a sensical explanation rather than making a statement.

Nickwell looked at him, brows furrowed. “No, I don’t think I was.”

Boss whispered something in his ear, and Nickwell slapped his knee. “Oh, ha! Yes, of course I was joking. I’d just forgotten what the word meant. A lapse of vocabulary. That’s normal, right?” There was an awkward silence. Traxler eventually decided he couldn’t stand it anymore, so he asked another question.

“Well, can we try to figure out what’s inside?” Nickwell looked at Boss, who was consulting some sort of manual.

“Er, yes, there appears to be no rule against it,” said Boss, who was thankfully speaking in quieter tones now that they were no longer outside.

“Then what do you think, Boss?” asked Nickwell.

“I think... it’s empty!” cried Boss.

“That’s impossible,” said Rolt.

“You’re right, maybe there’s some sawdust,” said Boss with a chuckle. “Well, whatever is in there, I’m sure it’s not that valuable.” This thoroughly confused the explorers.

“Anyways, where are you guys from?”

“All of us are from Silod,” said Anda. “Oh, except for Traxler.” She looked at Traxler as if it should have been a great embarrassment for him.

“Silod, huh?! The capital city. I’m a guy from the outskirts, as you can tell.” Boss let out a loud belch, possibly to further solidify his statement that he was from the outkirts. “How’s life there? How’s the food? Oh, how’s the king? Have you ever seen him?”

Chad chose to answer the last question. “He doesn’t make appearances very often. You know what kind of man he is. They game of politics is beneath the rulers of Qrooq.”

“But making what could be most of the planet off-limits isn’t, apparently.” said Anda.

“Hey, it’s dangerous out there!” squeaked Reuce, which earned her a glare.

“It’s dangerous? What kind of explorer are you? You know, the Daphinde doesn’t recruit people who are scared of plants.” asked Anda.

“It’s more dangerous than you think...” said Traxler quietly.

“Yes, indeed. I’ve heard there are flesh-eating mushrooms,” said Boss, speaking with an air of wisdom.

Rolt laughed. “Where’d you get that from? Have you ever been in the Unexplored, old man?”

“I’m not that old,” said Boss defensively. “Anyways, Nickwell told me that.” He patted his right hand man on the back.

“He’s an explorer?!” asked Anda incredulously.

“No, of course not. Well, not an officially recognized one, that is,” said Nickwell, sounding proud but also on edge. “Anyways, drop it. I think we should talk about something else.” He rubbed his shotgun, not very subtly.

“You still haven’t told us where you’re from, Traxler,” said Boss.

“I’m from Donkeybad. It’s pretty close by. It’s a pretty humble place. There’s farms, one school, and some unused oversized sporting event arenas. Oh, we also have a prison that’s basically unused.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, it sounds incredibly boring,” said Boss, drinking beer out of a can.

“You’re not wrong. That’s why I’m an explorer.”

“Well, what do explorers even do? You guys don’t seem to be ‘exploring’ anything at the moment.”

Rolt sighed. “Explorers are basically tasked do anything that requires knowledge about the Unexplored. Actual exploration is only done by more experienced and skilled explorers. The government puts a limit on the number of people allowed in the Unexplored at a time, so the Daphinde has to be selective about who they send.” Rolt sounded mildly resentful. “Explorers that good usually come from Daphinde’s academy.”

“Hmm. Any of you guys have children?” Boss seemed a lot more friendly now than he first did. Perhaps he didn’t realize that his yelling made people take him less seriously rather than more.

The unanimous response was “no”.

“Well, that’s good. You’re too immature. Er, not physically, but mentally.” He coughed. “I have a wee boy. His name’s Gurn. He’s determined to be an explorer as well. He’ll end up being one of those expert guys out there doing dangerous things among the flesh-eating mushrooms as well, mind you. My wife tells me not to encourage him, though.”

“Oh, I didn’t expect you to be married,” said Anda, which Traxler thought was kind of rude. But he didn’t expect him to be married either, of course.

“Don’t worry, at least I’m still available,” said Nickwell, maneuvering the van away from a passing merchant at the last second. “However, you should know first that I’m a strong believer in polygamy.”

“I wasn’t implying that I—”

“Sure,” interrupted Nickwell. “Anyways guys, this is it. We’re here.”

Traxler was surprised that he hadn’t noticed earlier; it was probably the fog that had started amassing as they drove farther into Alve. The first Gate of Qrooq. It made the entrance to Alve seem childish in comparison. A hundred foot tall steel gate stretched in either direction as far as the eye could see, and even farther. The security here was basically military. Dozens of guards were rolling out of a steel building, probably to greet them. They all had guns and wore some kind of tactical visual aid that covered most of their face and made them look inhuman. Thick fog loomed over the steel gate, blocking any vision into what was beyond the gate. Some said the always present fog was actually artificially created, to make you feel as unwelcome as possible. It did. You really got the feeling that this was no place to be.

And the well-equipped soldiers were paid just to stay there every hour of every day until someone else took their place, despite how little they actually ever did. That really demonstrated how much this task mattered to the government.

“Wow...” Boss breathed in deeply. “Damn, they really don’t seem to want visitors!” He chuckled nervously.

But Traxler wasn’t feeling queasy at all; only excited, though he knew the mission wouldn’t take him very far in. For some reason, Hassenpiron, the same man who continued to fund the overkill effort to guard the border, had also been the most valuable supporter of the Daphinde. He must know that there was something to discovered out there. Traxler felt the same too. In fact, anyone would have the same instinct, if only they weren’t faced with this very intimidating impassable barrier.

“Alright! Let’s go sign some stuff and get in there!” yelled Boss. The other vans had already arrived, and the mercenaries were piling out. Traxler and the other explorers stepped out of the van.

“I’ve seen it twice before, but it never ceases to impress me.” Chad was standing next to Traxler.

“Yeah,” said Traxler, grinning broadly. I can’t wait!