The crow knight stood just outside the coach and held the door open; the hunter followed slowly, their eyes caught by the faint pastel spread of the sky. The sight of early sunrise felt more dreamlike than the dreams the hunter had actually been in.

The long Yharnam night had felt inescapable, like a heavy lurking layer of pitch broken only by the light of the moon. They had hunted their way through the darkened city and its periphery for what had felt like far too long. But morning always came, the hunter rationalized; the sun and moon had shared the sky on the same schedule for centuries and would continue to do so for many more.

Even so, their disbelief was evident. As the hunter slowly exited the stagecoach and stared at the sky, the crow knight's helm tilted, affecting bemusement at the hunter's confusion.

The hunter tore their sight from the sky and instead looked at their more immediate surroundings. The stagecoach had parked on a wide stone street marked in intervals by carved archways. A low wall marked the edges of the road; past that was a precipitous drop to the water below. The hunter turned. Beyond the water, the dim silhouette of Hemwick slumped along the far coast, and beyond that loomed the high spires of Yharnam, and in the space between, the road that the stagecoach must have traversed—

"Hail," a woman called out, and a few additional voices giggled. The hunter twisted around and finally looked towards the castle itself. Ahead was a wide set of stairs, smoothed in the center for horses and wheeled supply carts to ascend; the path led up to an imperious castle wall and a massive doorway. The great door had been propped open and a cluster of women stood at the threshold. All shared the pale skin and hair that hallmarked Cainhurst nobility; while there were minute variations in pattern, they also all shared what must have been the popular fashion of the kingdom's highest classes. All the edges of their dresses were patterned with glistening lace, an intricate silver filigree that sparkled in the morning light. The hunter also spotted the richer gleam of jewelry; red must have been in vogue, for each of the women had rubies and garnets strewn from neck to breast.

The only aspect of the outfits that struck the hunter as odd was a layered strip of plain cotton cloth kept high on the forehead. Meant for keeping the fine long hair off the face, the hunter figured; the wind coming off the water was quite strong.

The women peered down at the hunter with obvious interest. Feeling adrift, the hunter made the same little bow that they had given the crow knight back in Hemwick. The women tittered. A few returned curtseys.

There was a firm push at their shoulder; the crow knight urged the hunter towards the women before setting attention to the care of the horses after the journey. The hunter took a deep breath and began ascending the stairs with more trepidation than they had felt when striding up to a slavering beast.

"Returning from the long night with the gift of a guest," one woman said as she approached the hunter and clasped their gloved hand between her own, heedless of the blood soaked and stained into the leather. "Crows do have a penchant for bringing pretty curiosities back to the nest."

The hunter cleared their throat. "It's an honor to be here."

"An honor to have you," the woman replied, and she squeezed their hand briefly before dropping her hands to her sides. "Lady Elaine."

The hunter nodded and repeated the little bow; at the very least, the women seemed amused and not offended by the hunter's manner.

"The little pinched-face one there is Lady Alanna," Elaine said, and the woman she had pointed out made a sharp inhale of affront. Elaine smirked. "Only I may tease her, we've been friends for years and enemies for longer. That one there is Lady Sofia, and then Lady Irene. Lady Camilla, there." The women she named curtseyed in turn.

Elaine gestured towards one that had stood a few paces apart from the group; she had offered the hunter some initial attention but now her gaze was fixed out towards the gleaming water. "My dear sister, Emmeline."

If the hunter was meant to see a familial resemblance, they supposed it was there, but all the noblewomen looked quite alike. Emmeline gave them a slight nod before looking back out at the coast.

"We're expected at the hall, so we mustn't dally," Elaine said loudly, as if to command the whole group, but her gaze was still fixed upon her sister. "The crow has returned; the rest will soon follow. Better to greet them properly at the banquet than accost them here when they'll be all filthy with the night," she said, and she flitted her fingers over the tacky red smeared across the hunter's collar.

The hunter winced. Elaine smiled brightly and grasped their elbow as she briskly strode through the vast doorway. "Worry not, poor thing— you won't be paraded like this for much longer. We'll have a bath drawn, and you'll have a beautiful wardrobe to choose from, and you'll sit by me at the banquet, won't you? I have a wonderful seat, being so close to the Queen. And— Emmeline ," she said, her tone harsh as she turned. "You are coming, aren't you?"

"I want to wait for him," Emmeline replied, her voice soft. She leaned against the stone frame of the door with a sigh.

"He will return," Elaine retorted, "but he won't do it any faster with you standing there."

Emmeline let her head rest against the stone at her side and stood still. Elaine tsked and pulled at the hunter's arm.

The inner courtyard had a tall fountain, assorted statuary, and well-manicured foliage that had thinned a bit for the season but still stood out as rich green against the gray of the surrounding stone. It was all quite pleasant but the statues made them blink. The hunter had grown so accustomed to the heavily cloaked and often faceless sculptures in Yharnam that to see a starkly human form— a nude human form, in many cases— was a surprise.

The hunter craned their head back; the structure of the castle seemed circuitous, with parapets winding from wall to tower and back again. One long arching bridge stretched from the topmost part of the wall to a high level of the central keep. Below that was a golden door illuminated by torchlight.

The natural rockiness of the island did lead to some marring of the pretty landscape; to the hunter's right was a steep slope into a marshy pit, deep enough to perhaps reach the level of the surrounding water beyond the wall. The hunter wrinkled their nose; there was an unpleasant scent carried up on the breeze: still water, vegetable rot, and again that heady metallic sting of—

"This way," Elaine said happily, and the hunter was dragged along.


The interior of the castle was a gleaming blur: more women in finery, floors polished to a mirror shine, tall columns of gilded marble, intricate stained glass— and in the dark corners, gray-robed hunched figures at work keeping it all clean. They did not meet the hunter's eyes and indeed went so quiet and still when the coterie of noblewomen walked past that it seemed as if they did not want to be noticed at all. To the hunter, that just made them stand out all the more.

Elaine was talking as she pulled the hunter along, but it was more a conversation with her fellow noblewomen than anything the hunter felt involved in. At the moment, the hunter felt like no more than some new fascinating bangle being shown off on the lady's wrist.

The hunter wondered if the crow knight would be partaking in the banquet. The knight might not even be recognizable with the silver helm removed and the feathered cloak set aside for the day.

The group turned down a long hallway dimly lit by periodic candles; all along the walls were painted portraits. A woman and her babe, a knight without a helm, what may have been past regents standing proud in furred finery; the hunter struggled to see them given the pace Elaine kept. A few other candlelit halls, all laden with their own collections of portraits, split off from the one they strode through and veered further into the castle.

It was in the next hallway they passed that the hunter spotted a distant figure; the sight almost made them stop in their tracks. No candles were lit along that long path, and the hanging portraits were no more than framed shadows. But in the dark distance they could clearly see the shape of a woman standing alone. There was the soft paleness of bare shoulders, and a simple dress made colorless by the lack of light— a servant girl, perhaps, with the task of tending to the many candles?

The woman's head tilted and there was a glint— shining like metal, but following a shape like the curve of a skull's jaw.

The hunter felt a flash of awareness, of seeing and being seen. The back of their neck prickled. Their muscles seized with the drive to run down that hall and discover what stood there alone, but they were soon swept into some adjoining wing of the castle where Elaine and the other ladies kept their rooms.


The bath was soothingly warm and the water had been topped off with a dizzying variety of perfumes, oils, and soaps. The hunter sank a little lower into the bubbles; they were grateful for the opportunity to scrape the long Yharnam night from their skin, but they were doubly grateful that the noblewomen had given them some privacy in the bath. The hunter wasn't annoyed with them— Elaine and the others were overbearing, sure, but it was a welcome change of pace from the locked doors and mocking laughter in the city. Instead, the hunter was fighting off embarrassment at what must have been a terrible faux pas.

There had been the matter of their gear. The leather overcoat and sturdy pants they had claimed right off a corpse had been easy enough to give up with the promise that it would all be laundered and returned. Their pistol and blade, however…

When Alanna or Camilla or Sofia or one of the others had held out her hands with a smile to take the weapons and place them safely aside, the hunter had gone very still.

Without fear in our hearts, we're little different from the beasts themselves, that kind crow had told them, and the hunter had certainly felt fear, frigid and squirming at the base of their neck, at the thought of handing over their weapons.

And the longer the hunter stood there, locked up with that cold fear, the more strained and confused the woman's smile became.

I am in their home, the hunter rationalized. In their castle, as their guest, and the sun has now long risen. One can trust another, here, and to have such a tight grip on my blade is to say I do not trust them.

When they had handed over the blade, the woman had played at staggering at the weight. The other women oohed and aahed at the matted blood and fur caught in the serrated metal. To the hunter's relieved delight the weapons weren't taken far; Sofia had oft worked gems and blood into her husband's weaponry and so she took it to her adjacent chamber for repair.

The hunter supposed they couldn't stay in the bath forever; there was the banquet to attend and the water had cooled. They dried themself, ran their fingers through the short tangles of their hair, and pulled on a vastly oversized robe that Elaine had set out for them.

They padded back into the main chamber; Elaine hurried through pouring wine into many burnished metal cups sitting on a silver tray. The other noblewomen lounged about the room, some at a mirrored vanity, others upon the wide spread of the bed. "A little toast to the dawn," Elaine said as she tilted the bottle over the final glass. "Then we can get you all dressed up and take you to the banquet."

The cups were distributed; the hunter kept the robe tightly bundled about them as they took their wine from Elaine with a grateful nod. The hunter made to sip at it but hesitated; none of the other women had yet partaken. Instead, Elaine turned to Alanna, Sofia turned to Irene; each of the women paired off and held their cups out to one another. Elaine had only filled each cup halfway; this allowed each woman to pour her wine into the other's, and then the other could decant it back into the original cup.

The ritual repeated and the women switched partners with a few tittering laughs. Elaine turned to the hunter and held out her cup. "It's a funny little tradition, but we keep it," she explained. "To prevent poisoning— or, if there is to be a poisoning, it must be shared amongst us all."

She poured her wine, sending it sloshing into the hunter's portion. The hunter watched the rich burgundy swirl for a moment before offering to pour Elaine's half back to her.

Once they had finished, Elaine grinned and lifted her cup; the wine was gone in a few deep swallows. "Come, sit," she said, and she pulled the hunter to the vanity. "We'll find you an outfit."

The hunter sat and slowly drank their wine as the women fussed over the contents of Elaine's wardrobe.


"The blue is entirely unbecoming," Elaine snapped as Alanna held out a lump of fabric that the hunter supposed was a dress. "It doesn't compliment the skin at all."

"It's your wardrobe," Alanna griped.

"It would compliment the skin with a bit of powder," Irene said as she sifted through the contents of the vanity.

Sofia leaned against the edge of the bed and eyed the opened drawers with a sly expression. "I think the trousers are far more fetching."

"You're severely lacking in ribbon," Alanna said, and Elaine furrowed her eyebrows. "I have a new set I haven't yet worn; better to see it on someone else before I attempt them on myself." She threw the dress back in the general direction of the wardrobe before walking briskly into the hall.

Elaine scowled and strode up to the avalanche of clothes the search had left on the floor; the hunter didn't have the chance to see what she picked out because Irene had started patting powder onto their cheeks. They cleared their throat. "I'm not one much for—"

"Nonsense, dear, you'll look like a farmhand without it," she said, and the powder puff dusted over their nose. "What do you think would better pop, Elaine? A red or a pink for the lips?"

Once there was no risk of errant powder falling into their wine, the hunter downed the rest of it.


The hunter glanced at the vanity mirror and wished the crow knight were still around to wipe their face clean. They weren't quite used to the sight of their own face in the first place— the mirror in the Dream was cracked and dull— and so to see it powdered pale had them doubly unsettled. Their shirt fit well enough, with a few ostentatious ruffles running down from the neck and sleeves that alternated between tight bands and loose stretches of fabric. The trousers were more of a miss. They somehow managed to be too wide about the hips and too tight at the calves, but with the help of a belt they remained in place.

They had managed to keep custody of some of their gear; they had secretly shoved a few blood vials into the robe when undressing for the bath, and now they were safely tucked in a pocket of the trousers. The hand lantern they figured would cause no offense by keeping and it was now attached to their borrowed belt. They had considered keeping a few of the scalpel-thin throwing knives but had decided against it, the sharp secrecy of the blades making it feel too much like some sort of pre-emptive betrayal.

The hunter sorely missed their hat. Irene had happily combed through their hair, but it still seemed messy to their eyes. They tucked a stray strand back behind their ear and frowned at their own reflection.

There was movement behind them in the mirror. The hunter froze. Alanna had left the door to Elaine's quarters wide open when she left, and so the hallway beyond was reflected in the polished metal. In the distant end of the hall was a dreadfully familiar silhouette. The light of the candles guttered, but the hunter could see the delicate firelight reflecting against silver— and a band of dark cloth bound across where the woman's eyes should have been—

The hunter twisted around in the seat, startling Irene so badly she dropped the powder puff. Just as the hunter fixed their gaze towards the hallway, Alanna bustled into the room with an armful of ribbons and closed the door behind her.

"Took you long enough," Elaine complained. "We've already got this one dressed up. You'd be overdoing it with all that, now."

Alanna huffed. "You couldn't have waited ?"

"I feared we'd miss the banquet by the time you crawled back here under the weight of your collection," Elaine replied.

"And you frightened our hunter, barging in like that," Irene chastised, and she patted her palm against their shoulder. "You know how it is. A beast under every bed."

The hunter searched through murky memories for something Alfred had said. Cainhurst had been host to something long ago, and the Executioners had cleansed… a conflict…

"Is your castle known for ghosts?" they asked abruptly, and the women turned to look at them.

"I know plenty of ghost stories," Irene said with a grin.

"Every old sad place has ghosts," Elaine replied, "from castle to hovel to empty field. All it takes, I think, is for blood to spill. So, yes. The castle may have ghosts."

Alanna sniffed. "You could take blood and spill it somewhere else. That wouldn't make a ghost."

Elaine glared at her. "I like you much better when you don't say such stupid things."

"No, I think she's right," Irene said as she idly petted the softness of the powder puff. "Like how that Church delivers it out by the quart. Say a wagon overturns and the road runs red with the stuff. I don't think that would make a ghost."

"Or if you just get a little cut," Alanna added, emboldened. "Blood may spill but you wouldn't die. There's no ghost to be had there."

Elaine pressed her fingers to her temples. "I meant a murder. Blood spilling from a death, not a— a wagon crash or whatever you were on about." She fanned her face with her hand. "Let's leave for the great hall. I'm growing faint in here. You're all pulling the life out of the room."


The hunter was pulled along to the great hall— and it was great, with long oak tables set with beautiful ceramic dishes and cutlery shined to sparkle. Food had already been put out and the scent of it all made the hunter's stomach growl. The courses were all concealed under silver lids, but the smell of meat, melted butter, fresh bread, and a hint of fruit and sugar wafted through the gaps— the hunter swallowed. They couldn't quite remember the last time they had a proper meal.

Elaine pulled them over and bade them sit in the seat beside her. The hunter squinted at the array of forks and spoons astride their plate. There was a cup for water, and another for wine, but their setting had a conspicuously empty spot. They gave a furtive glance towards Elaine's setting and noticed a third, much smaller cup set beside the others. It seemed to already have a little portion of wine within it; a finer vintage reserved for the nobles, they supposed.

When they reached for their napkin cloth to set it in their lap, Elaine tapped at their wrist.

"Not yet," she explained. "All at once, when our Majesty arrives."

There were more women filing into the room, and a few men as well; but as the flow into the room came to a stop and the assorted nobles took their seats the hunter noticed that many of the places set remained empty.

"...Emmeline," the hunter said after a long struggle to remember the name. "Lady Emmeline."

Elaine furrowed her eyebrows and frowned at the hunter.

"Is she joining us?" the hunter asked, and they twisted in their seat to look towards the doors to the great hall. "Your sister. She was waiting for the other hunters to return. And the other hunters returning home— they were to be at the banquet?"

Elaine did not respond; the hunter turned back to look at her. "Isn't that why she was—"

Shock strangled them. Their eyes went wide as they stared at the head of the table. The apparition had returned— the woman standing calmly, her long pale arms at her sides, her dull indigo dress hanging low from her shoulders. The faint blonde of her hair draped over her collarbone stood out only because of the exceptional pallor of her skin. She had no face— or, it was obscured beneath metal, the hunter figured out as their mind made a little more sense of the image— she wore a helm much like the knight crow's own. The bottom portion jutted like a jaw and the carvings beneath hinted at a rictus grin, but the curved expanse above was embossed with flowing patterns. A long ribbon was tied across the silver covering her eyes, but her head turned ever so slowly, and again, the hunter had the bone-deep recognition that she was looking at them.

The hunter stood so quickly that their chair nearly toppled behind them. The silver mask inclined minutely as she watched them. To the hunter's astonishment, all the ladies and lords in the room stood, as well.

Elaine curtseyed low. The hunter shot a panicked glance around the rest of the room and mirrored the extended-arm posture of the distinctive Cainhurst bow.

The apparition spoke. "The end of another piteous night," she said with her tone kept low, and every syllable was clear despite the metal encasing her face. A gray-robed servant pulled back a chair; she lowered herself into it. "And the coming of another dawn. Sit."

The room resounded with the faint shuffling of cloth and the quiet squeaking of the wooden chairs as the nobles sat back down. The hunter felt incapable of tearing their gaze away from her as they slowly returned to their seat.

The hunter had expected the queen to be done up in unmistakable finery, to wear ostentation great enough to elevate her above the lords and ladies all dressed up at the table; the hunter now figured that the power of the queen was as such that she could wear any damn thing she pleased.

The queen unfolded the napkin at her place setting; the rest of the hall followed her movement. The hunter pulled the cloth to their lap and gripped it tightly.

Conversation began again; Elaine leaned over and smiled at the hunter. "Are you quite familiar with such a spread?" she asked.

The hunter chewed at the interior of their cheek. "If I am, in truth, I don't remember."

"Ah, I can teach you, or teach you again," she said. The hall began to echo with the scrape and clink of the lids being removed from platters and portions being distributed. The hunter's plate was loaded with a cut of baked fish, some form of poached egg, and a green stalky vegetable unfamiliar to them swimming in butter.

Elaine lifted one of their forks and pointed it at them. "Now, this is a much more casual affair, so don't worry too unduly about making a fool of yourself. We aren't even doing proper courses— I'm sure that most attending are more than ready to settle into bed after the long night, so we're just having everything all at once. This small one is the salad fork, then this beside it is the proper fork for everything else. Well, almost everything else. The little one on your right— it's best for oysters. They're fresh, here, always— and the best you may ever taste, I promise you."

She grabbed their knife and arranged the utensils in her hand so that the knife was in the right and the fork was in the left, with the sharp tines aimed down at the plate. She cut at the baked fish and pressed the flaky meat up so that it was balanced upon the back curve of the tines. "This is the proper manner," she explained. "Is it familiar to you at all?"

The hunter shook their head.

She grinned and lifted the fork with the fish balanced carefully upon it, and then held it to the hunter's mouth as if expecting them to let her feed them.

The hunter restrained a sigh before leaning slightly forward and opening their mouth. The tip of the fork grazed their lips, but then it tilted and the bit of fish tumbled into their lap.

"Ah, silly me," Elaine snickered. "I've always had shaky hands."

The hunter swore under their breath and gathered it up in their napkin; it hadn't caught the spill as it had been balled up by their tight grip. The fish had ended up just as buttery as the vegetables and they hated to stain the trousers— trousers borrowed from Irene, they remembered, who had slighted Elaine by agreeing with Alanna.

They felt a need to reclaim their utensils from Elaine lest the rest of their meal end up a vengeful smear.

"Lady Elaine," a noble unknown to the hunter said, and to their relief she set their fork and knife down in order to turn and address them. The woman held out her cup: the smaller cup that had been half-filled with wine. Elaine nodded and hurriedly grabbed her own. The wine was poured; Elaine's cup was now full while the other woman's was once more at half.

Elaine scooted her seat back and stood. "The next is— ugh, Sofia. Why did she leave such a gap?" She strode off to share the portion of wine with the next noble.

The hunter grabbed their larger, already full cup. "Do I…?"

Elaine was already a half dozen paces away and there was no one else around to ask. The hunter let out a long-held sigh. They ventured a glance up the table; the other nobles were happily eating, drinking, and conversing, but at the most prominent seat—

The hunter fixed their stare back down at their plate. Would the queen remove her mask (her crown? Was it merely the island kingdom's custom for the royalty to be marked in this way?) to eat with her subjects? With the mask removed, what would the hunter see? A pretty face, a plain one, or one that had been terribly marred?

Would they see the same eyes they had felt so intensely matching their own?

They shot another furtive look up the table.

The queen had no food upon her plate and her silverware had not been moved. Or it had, the hunter noticed; there was a slight tilt to the knife, as if it had been lifted and set down again. She had not removed her mask. She held the napkin between her hands and twisted it idly, pushing it with one palm into the other.

There was the metallic smell again— easily explained by the frequent pouring of wine from metal cup to metal cup, the hunter thought, and yet something about it transfixed them. It was only like blood in that both were reminiscent of iron, and yet also like blood in the way it made the mouth twinge, in how it pricked at the senses and demanded attention—

All varieties of blood, the deathly ill man (ah, Gilbert, they could remember it!) had said of the Healing Church. Varieties, flavors, strains. And then Alfred had said—

Elaine settled back into her seat and before she could commandeer the silverware, the hunter returned their attention to their plate.