September in the north was not as sweltering as it was in the south, and the nights turned cool. The bodies had therefore retained their shape and had not yet been overrun by flies.
The Knight Captain sent the Scouts out around the area and into the Town, while he and Annan stopped before a body. It belonged to a young man about Annan's age. An Arrows had pierced his swollen, rotting chest, and his left hand still gripped the shaft. He had tried to pull it free and failed.
The Scouts returned from the Town and confirmed that it was Ghost Town. No one was alive.
The Knights skirted the body and entered the Town. The Wooden Wall had hidden the bloodshed within. Rotting bodies lay in heaps around it, covered in black scraps. At the riders' approach, the scraps took flight, becoming flocks of Crow.
The stench of decay hung thick in the air. Before long, a Plague would break out here.
"Why did the Ratfolk leave these bodies behind?"
Downcast, Annan looked over the dead, from children to the elderly. Pitchforks and wooden clubs lay scattered beside them. The Ratfolk did not even spare their own dead or excrement. There was no reason for them to ignore all this... flesh.
"Ghost Town wasn't attacked by a Rat Tide. It was attacked by elite Ratfolk."
That was why there were no Ratfolk corpses, either.
As Annan followed the group deeper into the Town, he suddenly tightened his grip on the reins. An Arrows had pinned a small child's body to a wooden door.
The Knights searched the mayor's house first but found nothing. They could not tell whether the mayor had fled or lay among the dead.
Mage Imon reconstructed the attack: a unit of elite Ratfolk had