I woke on the bed. Consciousness came slow, my thoughts foggy and disconnected. When awareness did come crashing fully in, it wasn't unlike a splash of ice water.

I shot awake, rolled off the bed, and had my axe in had in the same motion. No memory of where it had been before, either propped against the bed frame or perhaps even already under my hand, like some macabre lover.

Silence. The castle loomed around me, huge and cavernous, its presence felt even in that enclosed space. Cold sweat clung to my skin, and my throat was very dry. I'd been down a while.

Not dead. Not yet. I stood slowly, winced, and felt at the wounds on my shoulder. If those assassin chimera had carried some venom, the aureflame had burned it off in my sleep. I got my bearings, throwing the curtains wide on the window. A crisp glow touched the opaque glass. I opened it, letting fresh air in.

An overcast day again. I guessed it to be late morning. Still too cool for the season, but the clean gust I let in invigorated me, helped clear my head.

Once I'd gotten my heartbeat down, I spent an hour whittling my axe's handle down to a more manageable size. That helped settle my nerves, as it often did. Damn thing was always growing, even when I didn't feed it blood for more dramatic transformations. Just as much of a hemophage as the woman who'd barged into my room in the middle of the night.

Catrin's offer floated through my thoughts as I ran a dagger over the oaken branch. I considered my situation too, and what I should do next.

Orson Falconer needed to die. Little doubt about that. But this situation was far more complicated than Eanor had led me to believe. There were secrets powers at work here, factions which could threaten the Accord with or without this marsh baron bringing them together.

I was in a position to do something about it. More than that, I needed time to recover from my injuries and wait for a chance at Orson's life. That meant understanding the nature of the creature he'd bound, the dark spirit which scuttled through the castle's shadows like insects. I suspected I knew what it was, but I needed more information.

I checked my ring. Almost fully red now. Either the spirit, or some other inhabitant of the castle, had tried to get into my dreams. I clicked my tongue ran a thumb over the ivory band.

Biding my time, then. Not something I enjoyed, but I could be patient.

I heard a knock at the door. Thinking it might be Catrin again, I moved the chair I'd propped against the latch and opened it.

No one waited outside, but the clothes I'd pilfered from the chapel were lying in a neat bundle on the floor. I took them, shut the door, and changed. The clothes left in the chamber were finer, but I preferred the rougher, more inconspicuous garments Brother Edgar had lent me.

So clad, I threw on my red cloak and left my room. Navigating the castle halls — I'd memorized the route Priska had taken so I could find my way around without help — I made my way back to the dining hall.

I saw no guards. No Mistwalkers, or otherwise. The castle, touched by muted daylight filtering in here and there through slim windows cut into the stone, seemed very different from the night before. Less dark, less threatening. I felt no profane presence, which had seemed so omnipresent before.

Still, I didn't let my guard down.

I found my way back to the dining hall, entered, and found food set out. No one else occupied the room. I sat, ate, then continued to sit for about an hour.

It's getting late, I thought. Most of the morning had passed already. They can't all be nocturnal, can they?

Considering how late the meeting had been held the previous night, they very well all may.

I was just about to leave when the doors opened. I turned, and saw the young man with the shaggy blond hair and the hunter's greens enter. I'd never gotten his name.

He didn't look like he'd slept any better than me. He gave me a cursory nod, sat, sniffed at the lavish meal set out, then tucked in without a word. He ate with gusto, not coming up for air until his plate had been cleaned. After the man had wiped his mouth and realized I hadn't left, he raised an eyebrow.

"Creepy place, eh?" He leaned back in his seat, his brown eyes drifting across the hall.

I couldn't disagree.

"William." The man introduced himself. He wasn't wearing his tricorn, and had less of an air of performance about him now.

Dropping the act now we're not surrounded by the others, I thought. "Alken," I returned his greeting.

"Tense stuff last night," he noted, tossing an apple from hand to hand. "I thought that sellsword was going to try and open you."

I grunted, leaning back in my chair. "I figured it would be the ogre."

William nodded slowly, pursing his lips. "Karog's a scary one, and no doubt. I hear he and Issachar fought together in the west. They're both veterans."

Experts on war. More evidence that Orson's plans weren't exactly of the gentle kind.

"And you?" I asked, keeping my tone conversational. "What do you bring to this table?"

William's lip twitched into a smirk, and he bit into the apple without answering. Fair enough.

The doors opened again, cutting our conversation short. The shadowy form of Priska glided in, eerie and silent, with the ghoul soldier Quinn trailing her.

"I trust everything is to your liking?" The servant asked in her oddly buzzing voice.

I murmured an affirmative while William just shrugged. Priska went straight to business.

"My lord has judged it prudent to grant you both opportunities to serve this council."

William frowned. "Doesn't waste time, does he? Fair enough, this castle air was getting stale. What's the task?"

"You are both needed in the village. Quinn will take you across the lake, after which you will meet his vice-captain at the inn. You will be provided details there, and follow his lead."

William accepted this easily, while I quietly felt trepidation nestle into my gut. Vaughn again.

Trouble, but it was too early to start butting heads with the Baron. If he wanted me to prove myself, then that just meant an earlier opportunity to earn his confidence. The more he let down his guard, the more chances I had to understand all the elements at play here.

And take his head, I reminded myself as I stood with my meal half eaten. I couldn't forget my true mission.

Perhaps I could take a few of these others as well. Besides, Catrin was supposed to meet me that evening. I was curious what she intended, and could use a firmer plan of action than what I'd come up with.

We passed a man I didn't recognize as we left the dining hall. An old man, dressed in a fur lined robe that might have been fine in his grandfather's day. He walked with a cane, and his face was pale with nerves. Priska greeted him with a bow, ushering him to a seat at the now empty table.

"The village headman," Quinn told us after we'd entered the hall. "He's been here a handful of times since the preacher died."

He glanced back at me with a knowing smile. "Doesn't like my lot being about. Been trying to get the baron to clear us off."

Putting no heat in my words I suggested, "Perhaps he'll succeed?"

Quinn only laughed.

The trip across the lake proved both tense and boring. Quinn rowed the small craft while William and I sat with our own private thoughts. The young hunter had dressed in his woodsman's outfit and tricorn again, while Quinn had donned a short cape of gray wool to protect his armor from the damp air. I had whittled my axe down enough to wear it on my belt again, hiding it under my cloak. I kept my pointed cowl up as our boat floated through the mist perpetually clinging to the surface of the lake even in daytime.

When we'd gone about halfway across, I felt a… shudder. That's all I could describe it as. Perhaps some instinctive dread any human would feel, or perhaps some warning from the aureflame. Even still, I stiffened and stared down into the dark waters.

Something was below us. It moved through the lake, circling, following our little craft.

Quinn noticed my sudden attention and grinned. "Ah, noticed it did you?"

"What is it?" I asked, my eyes fixed on the water.

"Orson's family are chimera breeders," William said quietly. He also cast a nervous eye out over the lake. "They've been doing it for centuries. He's started incorporating western alchemy. I think that's part of what Lillian is helping him with."

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"Breeding monsters," I said, trying to settle despite knowing something dangerous swam within the murky depths just below me.

"Think about it this way," Quinn suggested, looking undisturbed. "At least it's on our side."

If only he knew the irony of that statement.

The village was much transformed in the day. People lingered outside, tending to their small gardens, fishing the foggy waters, repairing rotten boards on roofs or the walkways they'd built over the marsh. They spoke little, even to one another, and avoided looking at us.

I felt their fear. I felt it in myself as well, even knowing some of their tension was directed at me.

If they knew I was here to help them, would they be grateful? I remembered the old man in that window in Vinhithe who'd called the guards on me.

Better not to fantasize. I wasn't here as the knight-errant.

Those villagers who lingered in the streets cleared off as Quinn, William, and I made our way to the inn. Conversation stopped as we passed. The smell of rot and fish hung heavy in the air. Gorcrows lingered on rooftops and ivy-choked fountains, or circled overhead, as though waiting for the town to finally breathe its last breath.

Quinn, for his part, seemed to enjoy the atmosphere. He nodded and called out greetings to the locals in a jovial tone like he were some well liked constable. The villagers did little more than murmur back without meeting his pale blue eyes. I caught him chuckling at their nervousness.

William kept professional, refraining from toying with those scared people, which I appreciated.

The inn, like much of the village, showed signs that this hadn't always been such a poor and decrepit place. Two stories, sturdy, with decorative copper around the doorframe and a handsome sign, though faded, which read The Cymrian Sword.

We entered a large common room made cavernous by its near total lack of customers. Small, circular tables dominated much of the space, and an unlit hearth formed the centerpiece to a brickstone chimney on one wall. A distant-eyed girl in her mid teens listlessly swept with a broom near one wall. When she saw us, her devotion to the task became more determined.

I gave her the same courtesy and ignored her, instead fixing my attention on a man in his middle years behind the bar, heavyset and nearly fully bald, a heavy beard grown to compensate. He ignored us as well, occupying himself by cleaning glasses. I could almost feel his tension from across the room.

There were a few patrons, most of them gathered around one table near the bar. None looked like locals, and all were dressed innocuously, like traveling peddlers or vagabond sellswords, with dun cloth draped in layers to hide any more vicious gear they might carry.

I saw Vaughn, huge and still clad in his battered armor, sitting with the larger group. Quinn led me and William to that table. I could feel eyes on me as I moved, every click of my boots echoing within the common room with uncomfortable volume.

I didn't want to make an impression, but that can be hard when you're a finger over six-and-a-half feet tall and scarred as heavily as I am. I'd grown my hair long and left it unkempt to hide the glint of aura in my eyes, but it only went so far. I avoided meeting anyone's gaze.

Quinn indicated some empty chairs at the corner table where Vaughn and some of the travelers sat. William and I took our seats. Quinn slipped into one not far from his vice-captain.

They were playing cards, and betting. A pile of coins lay in the center of the table, mostly hacksilver and bronze. No gold. Gold is sacred, and rarely used as currency outside of the clergy.

Vaughn gave me a neutral look, shrugged, and nodded to the table. "Deal them in."

"I was told you had work for us," I said, having no desire to play.

Vaughn's jaw clenched. "You'll play. Deal him in."

I glowered at him, frustrated, but didn't push back. Instead I turned my attention to the game. They were playing Phalanx, a common enough pastime for gamblers across the subcontinent.

I had once enjoyed such games well enough back during my days as a soldier. After I'd sworn my oaths to the Table, I had enjoyed them less. Lying is difficult for me, sometimes even painful, and such games require deception.

We played a while with little conversation. I took the time to study the others. A tall, handsome man with the look of a merchant sat by Vaughn, wearing a rich outfit woven all in shades of charcoal gray, even the lumpy hat. Gray too were his eyes, and there were streaks of it in his brown hair and trimmed beard, though he didn't look older than thirty-five otherwise.

The other three men at the table were a rougher sort, vagabonds like myself in rough cloth, with unkempt hair scraggly beards, their gear stained by hard roads. I took them to be sellswords, perhaps even hired killers of a more dubious sort.

We played several rounds. I spoke little, and mostly ended up folding. This pleased Quinn, because he had luck and enjoyed attention, and annoyed Vaughn. The vice-captain kept throwing angry looks at the table and muttering darkly.

The gray merchant ended up winning the pile. He was patient, personable, and in the end very ruthless. He chuckled on the last hand, earning scowls and bitter curses from most of the others.

"I'm going to stop playing with you, Carlisle." Vaughn drummed his heavy fingers against the table, still trying to figure out why he'd fallen for the merchant's bluff.

Carlisle leaned back, stroking his gray-streaked goatee in quiet satisfaction. "You always say that, old friend, and then you always invite me for another round. But you still haven't introduced me to this pair?"

His flinty eyes went to me and William, lingering on me.

"They're part of the Baron's little club," Vaughn grunted. "Apparently, I'm to break them in."

"They're not joining the company!" Quinn laughed. "His lordship just wants to see how they handle themselves."

The innkeeper's daughter brought us drinks, quiet as a mouse and trying not to be noticed. She failed, and Quinn wrapped an arm around her when she tried to leave. She went very still, her face blanching, but the mercenary seemed not to notice as he grinned at the vice-captain.

"I see," Carlisle muttered, still running his hands through his long beard. "And when shall I be invited to one of these council meetings?"

"We've been here nine days," one of the vagabonds snarled. "You'll get your turn after us, peddler."

The merchant rolled his eyes to the man who'd spoken, the motion lazy as a well fed cat's.

"And when did this one arrive?" Another of the thugs put in, gesturing to me with a thumb. "I don't recall him waiting in this dump with the rest of us."

The girl mumbled. I don't think anyone caught it besides me and Quinn, whose yellow eyebrows went up.

"The Baron decides when he takes his guests," Vaughn said, gathering his cards. "Though, it was Catrin who took this one into the keep last night. He got to skip the line."

All three of the vagabonds turned their angry eyes on me. One of them sneered.

"Must be the slut's type. Can't believe we got someone from the Backroad here, and she ain't even available. Just our luck…"

"I hear she's letting one of the villagers bounce her. No accounting for taste. Just look at these peasants, living in the mud…"

"Tired of this pit," the third agreed, glaring into his tankard. "Piss beer and piss air."

Vaughn snorted, somehow expressing agreement with the sound. The girl trapped in Quinn's arm closed her eyes, her mouth pressed tight.

"I think our young friend here disagrees!"

I drew in a sharp breath. Damn it.

All eyes went to Quinn, who'd been the one to speak. He was grinning, his eyes malicious as some fox spirit's as he jostled the girl.

"What was that you said, dear?" He leaned in to the terrified girl, adopting a conspiratorial look. "Go on, tell them! I'm sure they value criticism, and we're all friends here."

She just shook her head, all the color drained from her face as she shook her black curls. "I didn't…"

"But you did!" Quinn caught the vice-captain's unamused look and winked. "Here, I'll say it, I don't think they heard you. She said my 'pa's inn isn't a a dump.' Isn't that precious? Defending her family's business, now that's a loyal daughter for you!"

One of the vagrants ignored the jovial ghoul, lifting his tankard to take a drink. Another of the trio stared at the innkeeper's daughter, rubbing at his chin with one thumb. He was the one who spoke next.

"Well, if she's so worried about her da's business, maybe she'd like to earn him some extra coin?"

Horror entered the girl's face. Behind her, I noticed her father staring at us from behind the bar. His fists were clenched over the countertop, and he opened his mouth to speak. He was caught between anger and terror, and it choked him.

A hand slammed down on the table, making the whole thing jump. Many of the coins Carlisle had been studiously counting as he ignored the scene went flying, making him curse savagely.

William stood, causing all voices to fall silent and all eyes to go to him. The young hunter had a dark look on his face, almost bestial with rage beneath the brim of his tricorn.

I sighed in relief, letting my hand slide off my axe.

"If this is the sort his lordship treats with," William spat, "then I want nothing to do with the lot of you."

His glare went to Quinn. "Release her, corpse eater."

Quinn's eyes widened in surprise, though the expression had a theatrical quality. He raised his arms with deliberate slowness. The girl darted to her father, who ushered her into a back room and out of sight. Smart man.

William scorched everyone at that table with his angry brown eyes, including me, then turned to the door. He'd gone three steps before Vaughn spoke.

"You are in Caelfall under its lords protection, William Garou. You walk out that door, that good will is revoked. You sure you want to make that choice?"

The hunter froze. Then, in a tight voice he said, "I won't work with men like them."

Vaughn snorted. "You're not an aristo anymore, boy. This is the world you've stepped into. Men like them thrive in it. Time to grow up."

William glanced back, locking eyes with the vice-captain. "Orson was supposed to be better than this."

Vaughn nodded. "He can afford to be, in that fancy castle on the lake. Out here, dirty hands get dirty work done. Don't be naive. The girl's trotted off, you've made your point. Now sit down."

Quinn studied his nails, pretending like he hadn't been the one to instigate this little show. The three thugs tended to their drinks, looking bored.

William hesitated, uncertainty warring with indignation in his expression. For some reason, he looked at me.

I shrugged. "If you weren't here, worse might have happened."

William's face twisted with anger. "So you're saying you would have let them do what they want?"

I hadn't meant to say that, but I felt the rest of those hard eyes on me as well. The role of blackguard suited here, much as it stung me.

"He's right," I said, tilting my head to the vice-captain. "Can't afford to be naive here. Even still…"

I turned toward the three vagabonds. They all had similar features, so I guessed them to be brothers.

"These are your employer's people," I said, letting my voice turn steely. "His subjects. Orson Falconer is no back alley thief lord. He is a lord. Blood of the Houses. You touch these people, and he'll have you flayed."

I stood then, rising to my full height to tower over them. To my immense satisfaction, they all shrank under my shadow.

"I am entertaining a decision to join the Baron's household," I said calmly. "I would take immense pleasure in carrying out his justice."

One of the three, who I judged to be the eldest, adopted a bored expression and shrugged. "As the Mistwalker said, we was just playin. No need to make such a fuss over it."

The merchant, Carlisle, chuckled. "Well, this has been entertaining, but I think everyone has made their point. Shall we play another hand, gentlemen?"

Vaughn studied me, his foggy half-dead eyes lidded in thought. "Nah," he grunted. "We've got work to do. You with us, Garou?"

William stared at me as well, but looked to the mercenary as he was addressed. His face calmed and he nodded. "Fine."

"Good. Quinn, you're with us."

"But—" The blond man started to protest.

"What's that?" Vaughn growled.

Quinn swallowed and shook his head. "Nothing. Right you are, vice-captain. Glad to be part of the team."

Vaughn stood, navigating around the table to draw up next to me. He lowered his voice so only I could hear.

"You talk a good game. Let's see if it's all talk."

He lifted his voice. "Time to move."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"You'll see," Vaughn said, a cruel smile twisting his mouth. The rest followed him out of the inn, only the merchant staying behind.

Carlisle drew the string over a small satchel, the bag fat with his winnings over the card game. He smirked at me. "Would you have really killed all three of them?"

He hadn't missed me reaching for my weapon. Even during cards, he hadn't missed anything.

"Not sure," I said honestly. "But I wouldn't have let them hurt the girl."

"Dangerous friends to show scruples around," he warned me mildly, sipping at his cup. "Don't want to show weakness to predators."

"They're not my friends," I said as I turned. "And it's not weak to have scruples."

Lot of things would be easier without them, I added to myself.

His quiet laugh followed me out of the inn.

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