The exhausted party emerged from the tunnels, led by the surprisingly chipper hired hands. Archibald and Arnold both looked exhausted while Alabastard and Machiatto seemed entirely unphased by the epic trek they'd all been through. Just beyond the bend, they'd find their camp and the two heraldics could rest up for the next phase of the trip.
     As the camp came into view, Alabastard noticed something was off about it. He trotted ahead, leaving Machiatto with a weary look on her face as the two heraldics tried to ask her why their guide was running off. She sighed and finished the walk to the camp, Archibald and Arnold trailing behind and demanding to know what was going on. The heraldics and Machiatto arrived to a rather confusing scene.
     Alabastard stood tall as he looked down two young horses, who were cowering on the ground. The camp around them had been ransacked and all the expensive bags and trunks the heraldics had brought on the expedition had been torn open or dumped on the ground. Alabastard spoke, not taking his eyes off the two raiders, "I just caught these two rummaging through our camp. Which one should I kill first?" Machiatto sighed, as if she's used to this kind of thing happening, and shook her head. "Make them empty their packs. They tried to rob us so it's only fair we do the same to them," Machiatto said, drearily trying to pick up some of the trashed supplies. The raiders were clearly terrified, their ears plastered back to their heads and their eyes wide and shiny.
     As Archibald and Arnold chattered about how much they'd enjoy killing both of the raiders, Alabastard watched the two strangers dump all of their supplies on the ground in a pile. Snorting, Alabastard drew a knife from his own pack and held it menacingly at the raiders. The two jumped back in fear then turned to gallop away. Dropping the knife into some nearby grass, Alabastard laughed. "Damn kids. I miss being that young and stupid. Now I'm just old and tired," he said, poking the pile of supplies with a hoof. Machiatto shuffled over to look at the pile, also nudging it. "Just a bunch of roots and moss they collected from the tunnels. Still, it might fetch a nice price in town," she remarked, seeming mostly uninterested. Archibald huffed as he and Arnold started picking up the camp. Those ruffians had made a real mess of things. As Archibald mourned the loss of his favorite yellow silk bag, Arnold sobbed that his favorite seashell comb had been snapped in half. The hired hands stood off to the side and gave eachother looks that said this expedition was going to be intolerable.