"Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate."
- Captain Jack Sparrow

"You should get out of the house and get some fresh air".

If I had a buck for every time I heard someone tell me that, I'd be able to buy the outdoors and have it imported into my room. One of the downsides of taking the Computer Science proficiency is that you develop an immediate aversion to sunlight and prefer to remain in a cool, dark place. Anyway, fresh air is what windows are for.

But I live in a household of artists and handy folks, outdoorsy types and extroverts, and they don't really get that. So it was that on a sunny Monday morning, the tail end of the long weekend, that my dad told me I should get out more.

I dragged myself up to my room to pick a task, chortling all the way at his ridiculous suggestion. "Get out of the house", I said to myself (and aloud). "What a ridiculous notion. I do declare that I have never heard such tommyrot in my entire life". But since I have such a capacity to condense meaning to one or two syllables, it came out more like "Outdoors. Pfehf".

Ten minutes later, the hard drive on my laptop tanked.

So it was that I found myself, computer-less and not in the mood to read, hitching up my bike (not Gallant, he likes to sleep until about four in the afternoon) and rolled out in search of treasure.

It's an unstated fact that each time I leave the house, I am by default in search of treasure. I'm a sort of de facto treasure hunter; if I had a metal detector I'd be the sucker down on the beach sweeping it over grumpy tourists. I'll pursue any lead, no matter how ridiculous or trite, if there's a chance I might find myself something of intrinsic/historic value. And I, like all good bards (and adventurers of all sort), know that in the absence of a beach frequented by pirates and the like, there's no better place to go hunting for treasure than a Magic Glade.

Magic Glade is a bit of a misnomer. First, I should specify that it need not be a glade, specifically- in fact it need not even resemble a glade. Studies by leading aetheric scholars have shown that as long as the area surrounding it is sufficiently wooded, it doesn't matter how big the clearing, or what the clearing happens to be filled with. Technically, a city surrounded by at least its own surface area of woods is considered a Magic Glade. Studies are ongoing as to whether any sort of plant life will work (grass is pretty much right out, but there's some good work being done with kelp and coral).

The second is that you don't actually need to be able to do magic there. This far north, magic is basically out of the world anyway- you get it mostly down in the N35-25 latitudes, Southern U.S and edging into Mexico. You find a proper magic glade down South, well, that's a place where you can really get some shit done, a few pots of tea and an afternoon and you can really spin some heads (literally as well as figuratively). That's another thing, tea is the drink you drink when you've got to do magic. Up here in the north it's coffee mostly across the board, which is entirely bad for magic but confers upon the drinker a kind of junk energy and survivability that can be applied to any number of problems. But the point is, a Magic Glade is technically so, whether or not you can actually do magic there.

So you may be wondering- if a Magic Glade doesn't have to be magic, and it doesn't have to be a glade, A) why the name, and B) what ARE the requirements? Well, I'll tell you.

First of all, the name is a shorthand. It's like sweetbreads, which are neither sweet, nor bread. It's just a catchy name that we can stick on a place to give someone a vague idea of what the place is like and what they might find there. As to what you actually need before you can designate an area a Magic Glade (and therefore get it declared a Habitat Management Area, Category 1b), this list is brief, but exhaustive:

- The presence of woodland animals which are small, furry, or otherwise conforming to culturally held perceptions of "cute". Formerly this included strictly mammals and birds, but in recent years has expanded to include snakes, certain varieties of arthropods, and there's a push to get spiders on the list too (my name's on the petition).

- It must be surrounded by a wooded area no less than its own surface area in size.

- It must contain Creatures of an Anomalous Nature (CANs, for short), none of which can be more harmful or aggressive than Category 4* (Category 4 are the Riddlers, creatures that are fully sentient but pose no threat to humans unless their riddle is answered incorrectly. Mostly just different varieties of sphinxes).

- It must contain at least six varieties of plant life, one of which must be a type of tree.

- At some point, a princess or princess-like organism (really any Category 2 creature will do) must have performed a song and dance number within its boundaries.

- Access to Category 0 and higher creatures must be easy and readily available. (Category 0 represents the rank and file of human and animal kind- the interchangeable people who populate the periphery of your story. You'll find that your specific category varies on whose story we're talking about here).

And I think that's it. We happen to have a federally-designated Magic Glade not far from my house called Shubenacadie (Shubie) Park. Now, treasure is not a given in a Magic Glade, but Cat 3 and 4 CANs like to hoard and collect trinkets, and stories of bards stealing such things are always rollicking adventures. So I hitched up the bike, rode it up Graham Cracker Hill...



... and made my way to the entrance of Shubie park.



As far as Magic Glades go, Shubie is something of a slow build. You'd never even know the route went through the woods from looking at it, the route is thin, dusty gravel and right next to a major highway.



But, continue along the path, and you are rewarded for your patience. The trees rise on either side, the city disappears from sight, and the drone of traffic becomes barely a whisper on the wind, mingling with the rustle of trees and the scuff of gravel.



Now, hunting for treasure in a magic glade largely comes down to who hid it. I knew there was a dragon in Shubie (Cadwallader Phyne the First) who liked hoarding gold, gems, and those old Bazooka Joe comics, but he's in my Sunday D&D group, so I'd feel bad stealing from him. I mean, I'd just feel guilty and give it back to him when we played.

That left the Sphinx, Firuzeh Callatep- on vacation in the Isle of Man, so hardly sporting- and the small colony of elves, who were dicks, but were also in possession of a non-trivial cache of surplus Russian armament.

This didn't rule out the possibility of other treasure, but it did hamper my options a bit. Still, I decided I'd just carry on and make the best of it. It wasn't long before I came to a crossroad.



The left road snaked off to the distance. The elves had a perimeter about a half-kilometer in that direction, so I decided to leave it. Off to the right I knew led to a small collection of nice lakeside housing...



Which, while nice, was not what I was here for. Someday, perhaps.

The third route led into the woods, and I was in luck! It was guarded by a troll.



Actually, I'll be straight-up: I'm not sure if it was a troll or just a moderately portly dude. But he was walking back and forth in front of the trail, so hey, he's guarding it. Clearly, right? And if he's guarding it, there's something worthwhile that way. I crouched behind some scrub and carefully watched his patrol route. I memorized the entire thing (six paces left, turn, six paces right, turn...), and picked my moment with precision bred from many years of running away from stuff. I hopped on the bike and scooted past as his back was turned.

It wasn't long until I came to another fork.



This time, I decided to go right. It seemed to lead deeper into the woods. The route, indeed, took me beneath verdant, green boughs, on my way through the Magic Glade.

I'll be honest, Shubie is something of a rare gem. Finding a Magic Glade of this size, this far north? It's really something. I'd heard stories of ones this big down around California and Florida, where Aetheric practicioners did righteous battle against the encroaching forces from beneath the sea. You'd see no sorcerers here, but it was still a place where the air had that coppery tinge that indicated Powerful Juju here.

As I coasted down the path, turning at random and making my way further in, I came across a pleasant surprise- a small footpath leading off the main trail. Knowing that riding my bike in there would be Hell on skates, I hopped off, and surveyed the route.



It was well-worn, but decidedly off the beaten path. Still, the light trickled through the canopy above, dappling the ground with warmth and giving the entire spot a welcoming air. I decided it couldn't hurt to take a look, so I rolled my bike in and headed down.



There was a wonderful silence about the place. On the trail, you could hear people coming and going, and even the highway in the distance, sometimes, but here, everything was quiet. Just me, and the woods, and the soft crunch of the leaf litter underfoot.



Then it hit me. In spite of the cliche, it was quiet- too quiet. There were no birds, no buzzing flies, no familiar chitter of chipmunks nearby. And then I got a hint as to why that might be.



It was hard to tell what the machine had previously been. A quick once-over indicated a car, probably of old make and model, but frankly, the components were so mangled and rusted that it was hard to tell. It was by no means a fresh kill, but still, the presence of a car in the middle of a Magic Glade was troubling.



It's like this, see- Magic Glades typically keep to themselves. People who enter are subject to the laws within, yes, but they're also one of the safer Magic zones. You're only in genuine trouble if you get a riddle wrong (and riddles are all optional) or if you piss off the elves. The fact that something had gone out, grabbed a car, and dragged it back here was... well, worrying. And to mangle it this badly, it would have taken something of considerable size. I wouldn't think Shubie could hold more than a Cat 6, but even the biggest 6 couldn't mangle a car this badly. Fortunately, there was a woodpecker nearby.



You may be wondering why a woodpecker is a good sign. Short answer, it meant whatever was attacking cars wasn't nearby. Long answer, birds, woodpeckers and most species of thrush in particular, don't go near Category 5 CANs or higher. It has to do with snakes, it's a very technical discussion. You can probably find the papers on Project Gutenberg that'll explain everything.

Thus reassured, I turned, and stumbled across my first bit of treasure.



A 5-of-Spades card!

Now, I know what you're thinking. If you've been reading thus far, you probably think I'm about to go into a long diatribe that I made up on the spot about how there's "a certain magic in cards", and something about how cards are the only magical artefacts that work "this far north". And then I'll offhandedly reference an actual scholarly resource, or that there's "good work being done", or say that it's all "public record". And then I'll just continue offhandedly making stuff up like I always do because a story about a guy riding his bike through the woods isn't much to work with if you don't dress it up.

To which I say, jeez, man, you're a real downer. Seriously, who went and spit in your Cheerios?

'Sides of which, I was happy to have found the card. It was a reassuring presence, magic or not (probably not, this far north). I was starting to put together a pretty good picture of what happened here.

Some big Category 6 had gone tearassing out into the highway and grabbed himself a car to eat. Started bringing it back to its lair, but whoever was in the car was packing some serious otherworldly heat and dropped a hex on that beast like nobody's business. The 5 of Spades isn't a bomb you drop lightly, so I'm guessing whatever went down here went down hard, hence the condition of the car.

So, judging from the approximate age of the car, I'd say if whatever was doing the grabbing got hit with the Mojo coming off a 5 of spades, then it was probably still licking its substantial wounds somewhere. I was probably okay.

Of course, it left open the question of who was going to be able to drop magic like that this far north. But, then, that's a question for another day.

It wasn't the kind of treasure I was prepared to pack up and take home, but I dug it out of the ground and propped it on the carcass of the car, as a way of letting everyone know that whatever did this was probably out of commission for the near future. Ease some fears. I continued marching along the trail.



It wasn't long before I ran into more of the Cat 6's wreckage.



I didn't know what this thing was, but frankly, I was glad I'd shown up after it was gone.



I neared the bottom of the hill and stopped near a felled tree on one side...



And a lake on the other. Although I do like flipping over rocks and logs and seeing what's underneath, I decided the lake seemed like the more attractive option. I ducked under a branch (leaving my bike behind me) and walked out.



The water was peaceful and calm, and dragonflies flitted around the surface. A muskrat poked his head out of the water and dove back under just as quickly. Small fish darted just out of sight, just out of camera range. It was somewhere just shy of idyllic.

I stopped for a while to just drink in the scenery and relax, take a deep breath. I looked off to my left, where the trail led. It started to grow over and and clog with fallen trees and deadwood. It would have been an easy enough trip to make on foot, but I had a bike, and no place to tie it up. So I opted to turn around and make the long, uphill slog back up to the trail.



I reached the trail proper without further incident (or treasure) and hopped back on the bike to continue my ride.



And here, I confess, I rode for a long time without much incident. I kept a weather eye for further side trails, but found little.



I opted instead to enjoy the scenery, the late summer breeze, the chirping of the birds.



I saw a squirrel on the trail and stopped some distance away, though it saw fit to let me approach.



When he realized I was taking pictures, however, he defiantly shoved a peanut into his mouth and ran off.

So I continued to make my way through the Magic Glade of Shubie. As time went by, I started to despair of finding any further treasure. After all, this task did involve hunting specifically for treasure, not just getting out of the house and enjoying the scenery.



But I wasn't seeing any of the traditional signs. No beasts had yet stopped to ask me riddles, no Xs marked spots. No skeletons lay about clutching maps, nor did monks with checkered pasts claw at my collar to whisper cryptic clues with dying breaths.



Even the islands in the lake, off in the distance, held no promise of treasure. Treasure-saturated islands are usually in pareidoliac shapes- frequently, skulls, though other motifs are acceptable.



I decided to bear down and start the hunt in earnest, biking towards the dogs-off-leash area of the park. This has nothing to do with any kind of inherent ability of dogs to hunt treasure, I just like dogs.



I happened across a small landmark, dubbed "Bailey's Bog", marked with a plaque saying "Stay dirty, my friends". Although I didn't dismount and roll in the mud as I wanted to, I took solace in the fact that I have a filthy, filthy mind.



It looked a likely spot, and a dog happened by as I was staring. He plodded into the muck and bounced around, having the happiest ol' time, before stopping and cocking an inquisitive ear towards me. His owners were nowhere in sight, so I bent down and asked "Confidentially, you think there's any treasure under there?" He licked my ear. I took that as a no.



The trail wound and twisted further into the woods, and I saw many dogs and furnished all I could with rubs and, in the case of the more exuberant ones, hugs. But alas, I saw no treasure- apart from dogs. So many dogs.

It wasn't long before I came upon a map. Perfect I thought. What better way to track down treasure proper-style?



The map had plenty of Xs where the roads crossed, but I'd already been to all of them. Furthermore, there were no convenient indications of pirate lairs or heretofore unknown stashes of ancient artefacts and relics and whatnot. I eventually decided that the only thing for it was to keep going on the route I was taking.



The prospects of my hunt were looking grim. I did find another small side path...



But it led only to an incline. At the top, I could hear cars zipping by, and decided it was not mine to climb.



I lamented, aloud and to myself, that I'd never find any treasure in this dump. In fact, as numerous other taskers have proved, I may have actually had better luck in a literal dump. One man's trash is another man's treasure, but one man's forest is another man's slightly different forest, treasure or not!

I got so busy grumbling to myself that I hardly realized I had biked far further than I'd ever been before. These were parts decidedly unknown.



I finally stopped at the edge of a small bridge, having biked probably in the neighbourhood of 10 kilometers and feeling thoroughly exhausted. I scanned through my photos until I found the one on the map, and tried to mentally place myself at some distance along the trail, but to no avail.

I decided that this was it. I had other things to do today, and I was bound to find no treasure here. Time to give up the ghost, go home, and call this a task left unfinished. I hoisted myself back onto my bike, sighed heavily, and turned around.

Then I noticed something.



It was another path, leading off the trail and deeper into the trees. It was well-worn and gravel-covered, but clearly less well-maintained than the main route. Mentally, I weighed my options- I could continue on home, or I could see what was down here. Could be treasure. Could also be bears. After some trepidation, I decided to go. After all, what's the worst that can happen? (Answer: The treasure is bears).



Someone clearly used this trail, since there was a small ramp made of deadwood going over a fallen log.



The same silence as earlier took over, but now it was eerie and menacing. I couldn't see the main road behind me- and my fears were not alleviated by the sight I saw coming up.



A dark tunnel. Truly, the stuff of nightmares.

People who dug my Katabasis completion will recall that I'm afraid of the dark. Not cripplingly, but then, it doesn't have to be. All the same, this could be my last chance to find treasure- real treasure! And at the end of such a dark tunnel, well, how could there be anything but? Clearly this was some kind of cave that would lead me to the lair of some long-forgotten beast guarding a horde of who knows what? I resolved to go through the tunnel, darkness or no.

After doing a spot check to ensure there were no wild animals, vagrants, or Slendermen about, I set my jaw, bowed my head, and bullrushed through the length of the tunnel, kicking up clods of gravel and regularly checking over my shoulder as I barreled towards the one light source dead ahead. I dove out of the tunnel, rolled along the ground, came up swinging and saw...



A welcome from the District 9 Knights of Columbia?

Well.

That's no treasure.

The path narrowed, but it was still present. I went up the short hill, and found that I'd exited on the side of the highway.



No treasure. Not even a nugget, just a big strip of pavement and woods on either side.

I left Shubie by a slightly different route, glum and exhausted, frustrated that my search had turned up naught but empty air and plant life. Despondently, I circled the lake on the way back to my house, and tried to quell the dissatisfaction within me.



But then, I saw it, glimmering magnificently before my eyes- the treasure for which I had hunted so long and so far. There, in the middle of a parking lot, everything I could have ever hoped to find in the woods condensed into a single, glorious bundle, just waiting for me to come up and claim it.



An ice cream stand!

"Young man", I cried to the clerk through parched lips and dry throat, "I see you have frozen dairy delights, and cold drink. Pray, furnish me with refreshments, for I have traveled long and far in this abominable summer heat".
"Aye, goodman bard", he said, "I can see you have traveled far, for the trail dust sits heavy on your shoulders. You are welcome at my stall, make your selection and I will happily provide you with relief".
"Great", I said, "You take debit?"
"Oh, no, sorry. We don't".
"Oh".
So I went down the street to the quick-mart and got some cash.
Then I got ice cream and water.



Some of you might not think that's much in the way of treasure. To you, I say only this: obviously, you have never eaten ice cream.

*The categorizing system varies from place to place, but the international standard is the one used in the European Union, so that's the one I'm using. It's all public record, you can check the books.