The moment they'd pulled into Armstrong, their unconscious passengers had become the medical team's problem. Dr. Perdue and her staff had taken one look at the Seekers' vitals and whisked them straight into the ICU ward. They set them up with IV fluids, electrolytes, glucose – basically everything modern medicine knew about treating severe exhaustion, even if the root cause was more paranormal than physiological. Their bodies would have to recover the old-fashioned way while whatever metaphysical batteries they had slowly recharged.

Getting word to the Guild had been next on the checklist. Their new aethergraph operator had raised an eyebrow at Henry's message about possessed adventurers and haunted Baranthurian tech, but she'd gotten it through. The response had been about what he'd expected when reporting that kind of situation – Guildmaster Taldren himself showing up within the hour and clerk Mira at his side, ready to verify their advancement quest's completion.

Watching Taldren and Mira take in the medical wing was its own kind of entertainment. They'd handled themselves well enough through the security checkpoints and ID verification, but the ICU was something else entirely. The steady beeping of cardiac monitors, the soft hiss of oxygen, the screens displaying vital signs in real-time – it was probably the closest thing to walking into a Baranthurian facility they'd experienced outside of ruins. Mira kept sneaking glances at the equipment while trying to maintain her professional demeanor. Even Taldren couldn't quite hide his fascination with the pulse oximeter clipped to one Seeker's finger.

"They're doing just fine – stable vitals, responding well to uh..." Dr. Perdue glanced at the IV bag, "The uh, 'regenerative' fluids and nutrient support."

The way she spoke mirrored that reassuring tone doctors usually used with worried families, but the way she kept glancing at her tablet and data feeds told a different story. "The mana depletion is severe, but we've managed to orally administer some mana potions at Archmage Kelmithus' advice. I'd strongly recommend keeping them here under observation until they're fully recovered – we have the facilities to monitor them properly, and we can ensure they receive optimal care throughout the regeneration process."

"Hmm... Well..." Taldren trailed off, watching the pulse oximeter like it was some kind of miniature scrying crystal. Guy was trying real hard to look like advanced medical tech didn't faze him, but his curiosity kept winning out. He sighed, "I daresay it shall suffice. Their kin shall no doubt wish to visit, but if the Archmage himself deems this fit, who am I to question such wisdom? Let it be so."

Mira moved to check the table where Henry had stacked the Seekers' Guild IDs earlier. Made that part easy for them at least. "Sir Taldren, these're the ones we've been lookin' fer, aye. They've seen their share o' trouble, poor souls, but there's no mistakin' 'em."

"Good, good. That's one matter settled, then," Taldren said, shifting his gaze from the unconscious adventurers to Henry. "You made mention, I believe, of a Baranthurian artifact in your aethergram. Has it aught to do with their present plight?"

Henry nodded. "That'd be the Soul Cage. Turns out the Baranthurians built ghost traps. The Seekers found the thing right where they were supposed to, but managed to skip right past the warning labels when they tried prying it open. Broke the containment seals and got a face full of those Lesser Specters. We've got the thing under containment. It's all yours."

Taldren gestured for him to lead the way. The containment lab wasn't far – just past two security checkpoints manned by MPs who'd clearly been briefed on their unique visitors. Standard procedure, but Henry noticed Mira eyeing their M7s with the same fascination she'd shown the medical equipment.

The research team had assembled in force – Dr. Anderson, Dr. Lamarr, and a handful of their staff scientists clustered around monitors and instruments. Kelmithus stood slightly apart, watching the Soul Cage through the mesh of a Faraday cage.

Inside, the device sat on an isolation platform, the crystals pulsing with an eerie red-green-blue glow. At least the ghosts were still in there. The sooner they got this thing cleared for transport to wherever the Sanctum Arcanum stored their dangerous magical artifacts, the better.

"Right then, I've documented what we found when securing it," Dr. Anderson said, handing Taldren a sealed folder. "Particularly the damaged mounting brackets and how the Seekers' attempts to remove it compromised the containment. Needless to say, the Sanctum Arcanum ought to avoid what they did. As long as the crystals stay properly aligned, the entities should remain contained. Just... try not to drop it, eh?" He finished with a nervous chuckle.

"That... mesh cage," Taldren said, brow furrowed. "Will it complicate the transfer?"

"Oh, we can remove it," Dr. Lamarr said. "It was just a precaution for our examination. We can help your transport team with the handoff."

"Very well," Taldren nodded. "We've a carriage waiting outside. Miss Lenton, if you would summon the Sanctum Arcanum's men and oversee the transfer?"

"Aye, Guildmaster." She turned to Dr. Anderson. "Might we borrow some o' yer folk to help with the movin'?"

As the researchers began coordinating with Mira on safely transferring the Soul Cage, Taldren turned to Henry and his team. He pulled a small journal from his robes, flipping through its pages. "Now then, to business. The conditions of your advancement quest were to find the Seekers and assess the cause of their disappearance. Both lie before me, accompanied with notes that are, I must say, admirably thorough. And the Seekers themselves – they are alive and stable. Given what they faced, this is no small feat. Your primary task is accomplished, and well at that."

Behind him, Dr. Lamarr directed some of the lab techs as they carefully dismantled the Faraday cage. Mira had left and returned with two robed figures – Sanctum Arcanum mages by the look of their insignias – with a pair of very alert MPs shadowing their every move. They seemed a bit tense over the newcomers, but relaxed a bit when the mages started wrapping up the device with some sort of tarp. Looked like base security was just as happy as he was to get the haunted Baranthurian tech off their hands and into somebody else's problem pile.

"Furthermore," Taldren continued as he jotted down some notes, "you have seen their original mission through to its end. The artifact, for all its troublesome properties, is now in hand." He closed his journal. "You've well proven the mettle of Tier 7 Adventurers. For now, take your rest. Return to the Guild on the morrow. We shall have your rewards and documentation ready ere the clock strikes noon."

– –

Taldren's suggestion for rest was a nice thought, but reality had other plans. Dwyer had already scheduled them for an early morning intel brief on the Ovinne situation. Between that and the noon Guild appointment, their day was gonna be packed tight with PowerPoint, paperwork, and probably a whole lot of shopping once they had those lumen rewards in hand.

The briefing room was already packed when they arrived. General Harding sat front and center, Ambassador Perry beside him with his aide taking notes. The Stryker crew had grabbed the back row, probably planning to catch some sleep during the political portions. That CIA guy, Dwyer, stood near the podium checking something on his laptop, while Captain Sinclair arranged her notes at the front.

Henry took the thermos of tea Sera had brought – some Gaerran blend that actually beat coffee for caffeine content – and found seats with his team near the front. The projector cycled through Reaper reconnaissance footage, overlaid with local maps from Guild cartographers. The drones had done good work updating the older charts, especially where winter had changed the terrain around the trade road. Most of the mountain passes were still obscured by heavy cloud cover, though – typical January weather up there. Clear skies in the Ovinne range were about as rare as a Tier 1 adventurer with common sense.

Harding cleared his throat, and the quiet murmur of conversation died down. "Captain Sinclair, you have the floor."

"Route to Krevath is 144 miles, following the main trade road," she began, laser pointer tracking their path. "Four-lane compacted earth, well-maintained. Think I-35, minus the asphalt. Enstadt's another 177 beyond that." She highlighted several points along the route.

"We'll be running a seven-vehicle convoy," Sinclair continued, bringing up the formation diagram. "Stryker takes point, followed by our security personnel. Ambassador's MRAP and the MTVR in the middle, with Alpha Team's vehicles providing close escort. Sheriff UGV brings up the rear guard."

The next slide showed their comms setup. The image showed an aerostat floating above Armstrong Base. "TCOM gives us 250 miles of coverage from here, courtesy of the planet's increased size. Your vehicle radios are good for 90, maybe 120 depending on magical interference. We'll have one MRAP designated as runner if we need to relay back to base." She clicked forward again. "ISR support from rotating Reapers and Global Hawks for continuous route mapping, monitoring, and comms, but remember – no armed air assets. You'll get that after the Ambassador works his magic, hopefully. Too late by then, I know, but it's a limitation we have to deal with."

Her comment earned a few restrained chuckles.

Then came the timeline. "Departure's set for 0600 two days from now. That gives us tomorrow for final prep and equipment checks. Weather forecast..." She clicked through a series of thermal passes showing the cloud patterns. "Well, there's an active snowstorm along the route. Manageable even without envirosuits, but it may upgrade to blizzard conditions near Krevath. Road's getting regular clearance from standard caravan traffic, but that just means the roads are going to be usable."

Henry studied the forecasts. The Ovinne Mountains made Alaskan winters look like a day at the beach. Even with the trade road getting maintained, they'd be facing white-out conditions if that storm picked up. Still, they had the vehicles for it – assuming the MTVR's chains held up on those compacted earth roads.

Dwyer stepped up as Sinclair wrapped the route brief. The guy looked tired – probably spent half the night coordinating with the Guild's information network to piece together the latest updates from Krevath. "Situation's getting complicated up there," he began, switching to imagery of the town. "Krevath's normal population is about eleven thousand. They're currently housing around eight hundred refugees from outlying settlements in a makeshift camp outside the walls. Guild estimates we'll see that number climb past a thousand by the time we arrive. Several nearby villages are already evacuating ahead of the weather and increased monster activity."

The drone footage showed the camp clearly – a hodgepodge of tents and temporary structures cordoned off by earthen barriers. Local mages must have raised those walls, given how uniformly they curved around the settlement. It was the best move they could've made to protect those refugees, even if it did make the place look like a medieval FEMA camp.

"There are multiple factors driving the displacement," Dwyer continued. "We're seeing increased monster activity throughout the region – likely a combination of seasonal migration and disruption from the Elemental Dragon. Mithril Order and other Clans are trying to coordinate defense, but they're spread thin." He clicked through several thermal images showing various creature types.

"We've identified several new mid-to-high tier species in the mix. Crystallons: armored carnivorous horses with crystal growths, Tier 7 minimum. We think they can take as much a beating as a Bradley but are a helluva lot more mobile. And they can use magic. Durnasks – imagine an armadillo but with porcupine spikes. Tiers 5 through 7; easy pickings. Just don't let any get too close. Then the Bralnors: basically gorillas in natural rocky armor. The weakest bralnor can pretty much go toe to toe with a Minotaur Chieftain, so watch out for them. And of course, we've also got the usual suspects – goblin raiders, hobgoblin platoons, fenwyrms, and so on. They're hitting refugee columns, which is driving more people toward the larger settlements."

The next slides showed an aerial perspective of the defensive situation. Looked rough – the town guard must be pulling double duty between monster threats and managing the growing refugee population. According to the Guild, even with Mithril Order support, they were stretched to their limits. Half their resources were tied up just keeping the camp secure and stopping the goblins from picking off stragglers.

Dwyer gestured to Perry. "Mister Ambassador, would you like to cover the aid package?"

Perry stood. "The MTVR's got humanitarian aid for the town, on top of our own supplies. We're bringing in aid from the Guild and the Sonaran government – healing potions, warming charms, mana crystals. Plus our own contributions: tents, thermal blankets, preserved rations, water, medical supplies. Our objective, outside of getting to Enstadt in one piece, will be to get these supplies to the town."

He trailed off, leaving the implication unspoken. These people needed help, but damn if they weren't gonna take advantage of that and show Ovinnegard just what great neighbors they could be. It was kinda fucked up, in a way.

Ryan raised his hand. "We gonna be runnin' escort for them refugee caravans too, ain't we?"

Perry nodded. "If possible, yes. But we shouldn't see any more incoming refugees by the time we get there, right?" He turned to Dwyer and Sinclair for clarification.

"Eh, 90%," Dwyer responded casually.

"Any other questions?" Sinclair asked.

They had none.

"Alright, then. You have Guild business in a couple hours, I believe. Get your gear sorted by tomorrow. Wheels up at 0600 two days from now."

They had a lot to do before then. Guild ceremony first to get their promotion and officially add Sera to their Party, then hitting the market district for supplies they couldn't get from the quartermaster. Maybe grab lunch at that restaurant between Red Sail and Spellbound – apparently the chef there had the luxury of trying cheeseburgers at the base and had put his own spin on it with cav meat. Then finally, back to base to requisition their gear and help load the MTVR.