Count Veyron did not allow them to leave immediately.
Accepting the contract was one thing. Walking blindly into a forest that had already swallowed almost thirty mercenaries was another.
The count dismissed most of his advisors and ordered a map brought into the hall. A servant unrolled it across the long table before his seat, revealing the eastern reaches of Veyron's territory.
Villages, roads, mines, and hunting trails had been carefully marked in black ink. A wide section of forest east of the river had been circled in red.
"The first attacks occurred here," Veyron said, placing one finger against the map. "Livestock vanished from two farms. Then hunters began disappearing."
His finger moved farther north.
"The mercenaries tracked the creatures toward the old iron mine."
The surviving captain stood across from him, his face tight.
"We never reached the mine."
Veyron looked up.
"You told me you found the den."
