Our wagon rolled out of the entrance of the base, trailed by two lines of horses. In the first row of horses, Castille and Dugan trotted at an easy pace. I took my seat behind Dugan with Thor waddling beside us. He was as groggy as Castille and Dugan, who still showed signs of their hangovers.

I didn't drink anything stronger than table beer. Alcohol was another poison, and, like all poisons, I inherited Sin's distaste for anything that dulled awareness.

In front of us, Reed rode beside the wagon's driver. Behind us, her guards, hardened by their fresh battle experience, scanned the surroundings with alert eyes.

There was a lot to see.

The clean-up of Steeltown was underway. Shop owners and clerks returned to their stores, sifting through the wreckage of their lives. Kateen's guards helped, pulling away the dead who were killed before they found the safety of our headquarters. We turned down an unfamiliar street, heading West to the Vangraves' manor house and out of Steeltown.

# # #

Past the town, the ruins of ancient Del dotted the landscape. Its stone arcs and tall, broken pillars were baked to a golden brown in the sun. Among them, one structure stood out.

It was a bridge… in a sense, but it only transported water. Standing two stories tall, the aqueduct was like two rows of stone arches stacked on top of each other. It had a gradual slant, using gravity to draw water from distant locations and supply this once-great city.

"What happened here?" I asked.

"War," Castille said. "I learned about it when Isla and I were stuck in that Guildhall all night. After Nostrand was murdered, his sons fought a bloody civil war in the streets of their capital and when the dust settled…"

She gestured around at the ruins, and I realized that most of the destruction to the buildings was not caused by old age or weather.

"That's when the rumours of a curse began. Imagine it. A land not touched by spirits. What would you do?"

"Sounds like bad luck. I would leave."

"Exactly. The survivors abandoned the capital for villages on the fringes of the Dellends like Southsun. It made it easy for our first King to take over the territory. This land would have been deserted if not for the treasure hunters who found what was under Brimspoke Mountains. The rest is history."

History, huh?

I titled my head up as we rode under a wide arch of the aqueduct. I remembered reading about them in Mr. Reeves' books. To see one in person filled me with a strange sense of awe. It was a testament to ancient Elven construction that it was still standing after hundreds of years. Even the stone-paved roads we trotted on were level and well-maintained.

Elven construction techniques were coveted trade secrets by Masonry Guilds—secrets they rarely used. The guilds preferred lower-quality construction that required more ongoing maintenance. They said it was to appease the Revisionists, but most believed it was to fill their coffers and keep their workers busy. It was all Mrs. Dulldrey complained about on the day she twisted her ankle on an uneven cobblestone street.

Thinking of her made me smile.

# # #

After hours of slow travel, the Vangrave's manor house loomed in the distance. Its stubby spires pointed to the sky in the style of buildings in Luskaine's capital. As we approached, the differences became clearer.

Red tiles covered the roof, and its tall stone walls were painted white. We went around, entering through a wide archway into an open, dirt courtyard. We were surrounded by carved pillars that held up short stone canopies extending from the walls. Gaunt servants in black and red Vangrave livery stood between the stone pillars with bowed heads. Judging from the style, this manor house was built in the early days of Luskaine, before the Revisionist movement attempted to purge Elven culture from society.

The wagon rolled to a stop. Reed dismounted, landing on the hard-packed earth with her club already slung over her shoulder. She examined each servant around us, raising her chin with superiority and a touch of disgust. Most of the servants had sallow skin, and many were missing clumps of hair. They were showing signs of poisoning that we had seen among Steeltown's poorest members. We pulled up our horses a moment later, dismounting with half of Reed's guards. The other half stayed mounted, their eyes narrowed and alert. There was a strange tension in the air that didn't match the purpose of our visit.

The redwood doors to the main building creaked open to reveal the wheelchair-bound Victor Vangrave flanked by his Steward, Reginald, and two clean-shaven guards. The Lord of the Dellends wore a double-breasted, red jacket with brass buttons. Ornate gold medals were pinned to his chest—awards from military campaigns before he was born. The colour brought out the sickly pallor of his skin. Beside him, Victor's guards looked more well-fed than the servants, but even their eyes were rimmed with dark circles. Reginald was how I remembered him. He stood straighter than a pine tree and moist as a salamander in his formal black suit.

Victor flashed an easy smile, and the tense silence around us eased.

"Welcome to the Vangrave estate. I congratulate you on your miraculous victory."

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Reed looked at us over her shoulder and jerked her head to the young Lord.

That was our cue.

I stepped forward.

"Um... Thank you, my Lord. You're looking well."

Reginald glared at me, but Victor's smile turned into an amused smirk. He raised his hand, and I was filled with relief.

This part of the dance I knew.

I stepped forward to the wheelchair-bound man and bent down to press his knuckles against my forehead. I moved off to the side and glanced back at Castille and Dugan. The pair exchanged looks and stepped forward one at a time to take his hand.

"My Lord."

"Mmm-my Lord."

Thor trotted up next. Dugan grabbed him by the snout and pulled him back to his side.

The pack animal let out a low, angry whine.

Reginald scoffed.

"This motley lot defeated Nostrand Del, the last King of the Dellends? My Lord, it beggars belief."

"And yet... that's what happened," Reed said, walking up last.

She planted the top of her club into the dirt and used it as support to dip into a curtsey. Her black fringe of hair brushed against Victor's pale knuckles.

"I'm pleased to see you in good health, my Lord."

She raised her head and flashed him a quick smile.

"Nostrand Del is dead. I witnessed their battle against him and personally dealt the killing blow."

Victor's face flushed bright red. His eyes were wide like a startled deer.

"Special Inquisitor… I-I-I'm impressed."

Reginald sniffed.

"If Special Inquisitor Reed was with them, perhaps it was possible."

Beside me, Castille grumbled.

"There she goes, taking our credit."

"As long as we get paid," I whispered back.

Reed straightened up, swinging her club over her shoulder.

"My Lord, have you tried using your abilities?"

"Oh! Yes! It's exhilarating. I haven't done much, but… Here! Look!"

Victory balled his right hand into a fist. After a few moments, he turned his palm up and revealed a small, brown pebble.

Reginald clapped at the small display of Landbound Magic.

Castille leaned closer to me and whispered.

"I once saw a street magician do the same thing."

Dugan elbowed her in her hip.

I stifled a laugh.

Reed looked pleased.

"Excellent, my Lord. You have been diligent with your training. The Sanctifiers would be honoured to provide you with private tutors if you require."

Victor gave her a beaming smile.

"Thank you, Special Inquisitor, but I believe Reginald will continue to do an incredible job by himself."

"We'll see. On to business?"

"Of course! I will honour the contract and more. Please, come to my drawing room. Reggie..."

The Steward rolled Victor back into the interior of the building. The courtyard that had been frozen with tension bustled into movement. The rest of Reed's guards dismounted off their horses. Some servants stepped forward to tend to them, and others retreated through the doors after their Lord.

"What's a drawing room?" Castille asked.

"It's like a sitting room."

Castille turned to Dugan. He shrugged.

"So, any room he's rolled into?"

I suppressed a laugh.

"Spirits below, Castille! You're going to get us executed."

I shook my head. After all this time, Castille still had little respect for nobles… except one. I had to admit, I missed this side of her. It reminded me of the early days of our adventures, before her near death at the hands of the beastkin and before we went undercover in Steeltown.

"Are you coming?" Reed asked from the doorway.

I snapped to attention and followed her.

One of the Vangrave's servants blocked my path.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. Reginald said animals stay in the courtyard."

He pointed to Thor. The pack animal gave the servant a loud, outraged grunt.

Castille crossed her arms.

"That pig is a hero as much as we are."

"Leave the boar," Reed said in a slow drawl. "We'll need him to sniff out enemies."

Enemies?

Dugan knelt and patted Thor on the head. He whined and turned away, mooning the servant and the rest of us.

"He'll b-be fine."

We walked through the doors into a large, tiled room. The walls were painted with scenes of battle, and more stone pillars held up the ceiling. In the middle of the room was a rectangular pool of water. Above us, a similarly shaped skylight let in rays of sunlight. Led by the servant who stopped me, we walked around the pool, passing the curtained entrances of the servants' personal quarters.

"The pool collects rainwater for washing and drinking," the servant said.

I nodded.

"Nothing like Elven craftsmanship."

Reed laughed.

We moved into an open square almost as large as the courtyard. In the middle was a stretch of dirt. Like the pool, it was surrounded by stone pillars that held up a red-tiled canopy that provided shade. Above the canopy was a second story, peaked with a spire at each corner.

The servant gestured to the barren earth in front of us with an open hand.

"And they say this used to be a garden."

We paused and stared at the ghost of a garden. Even the wealthy were not safe from the effects of the curse. At least now, there was the chance for change—thanks to us.

"Please. This way," the servant said.

I walked a little straighter into the drawing room. Victor and Reginald were waiting for us.

The young Lord sat in his wheelchair on the left side of the spacious room. On the right was a set of beige couches and chairs. We took our seats while Reginald and Reed stayed standing.

The silent tension was back.

Reginald's wary eyes flicked to each of us while Reed kept her face unnaturally neutral.

What's going on here?

I examined the mosaic pattern of spiralling leaves on the floor, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Once again, Victor gave us a warm smile, and the tension in the room eased.

"Thank you for joining me in my private quarters. It's the first time this house has had visitors in generations. If only my parents could be here to greet you…"

The conversation lapsed into another silence. I rushed to fill the gap before the uneasy tension returned.

"The pleasure is ours. It would have been great to meet them. Um… Do you have any… uh… refreshments?"

Reginald's eye twitched.

"Need I remind you that there is a food shortage? One that, from my understanding, your party caused."

I made a mental note not to mention yesterday's feast.

"Right... Um… I apologize."

"Maybe we should move on to business," Reed said.

Victor nodded, his ancestor's medals rattling on his chest.

"Yes, let's begin. Reggie...."

Reginald ruffled through the interior pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a folded length of paper, yellowed with age.

"The reward for this job request is 100,000 gold pieces and peerage in Luskaine's nobility. Providing a noble rank is the sole authority of His Majesty the King. Our responsibility lies in providing the gold for the completed job request."

Victor clasped his hands in his lap.

"We keep a reserve of gold bars on hand. Each gold bar is the equivalent of 400 gold pieces. Can your wagon hold 250 gold bars?"

"It can," Reed said.

Victor nodded.

"As a special show of my appreciation, I would like to gift your party with my family's arms. Reggie..."

The steward's face twisted into a sour expression before he clapped his hands twice.

The two clean-shaven guards returned, walking through the entrance in a formal march with unexpected gifts.

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