Celia was surprised to find that the intricately locked door led not to some cavernous underground dungeon, but a snow-covered field. A vineyard, maybe? As the mist settled in the clearing, same twisted scarecrows came into view, lining the rows of dead plants. There were an unnatural number of crows here, after all. In the distance, it was there. The castle. Finally.

As she jogged up to the steps, a voice rang out to her.

"Mr. Wint-ah" Upon seeing her, his face morphed from an unreadable, quizzical look, to a knowing smile, finally softening as he spoke again. "Well, my dear, what a pleasant surprise." He said pleasantly, but not sounding very surprised. Celia remained frozen, unsure if she should engage. This was the first person whom she had spoken to since arriving at the village, and while he seemed friendly, Celia was suspicious. Was he, too, connected to Miranda? How did he know Ethan? Was he expecting him to show up here?

The entire wagon lurched and shuddered as he swung his substantial body weight over the side. Seating himself on the edge, the man let his feet dangle beneath him, hanging garlic and dried meats swaying above his head as he smiled down at her.

Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, he continued. "Don't worry child. I'm harmless! Just here to peddle my wares and see what those travelers might have to offer a humble merchant like myself."

Silence.

"On your way to visit with Lady Dimitrescu?"

She decided to answer, then. What harm could there be in getting a little information?

"Is she the…owner of this place?"

At that, his eyes lit up and he stifled a laugh. "You could say that. She and her daughters reside here at the castle."

Relaxing her shoulders and taking a tentative step towards him, she kept going. "Have you seen a…. baby?"

"Well well, maybe we have more business than I expected. What do you want with the child?"

"So you do know –"

"Dear," he interjected quickly, eyes narrowing and voice lowering as if he was sharing a terribly grim secret, "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into. If you must continue, do make sure you are adequately prepared." With that, he swept his arm up and behind him, gesturing to the contents of his cart.

Of course, a salesman. What could he possibly have that would be of use to her? Dried sausages and garlic?

She scoffed. "A change of clothes would be a great start. Oh, food would be great. I'm sure you don't have any ammunition…"

"I'm afraid I can't help with the change of clothing, young miss, but of ammunition and food…well of that, there's plenty!"

He turned his back to her, then, bare feet swinging around as wildly as the dead fish strung up above him with the way the cart bowed and swayed while he searched his stock. As she waited, Celia dug her boot into the ground and tried to think about what her life would look like tomorrow. By then, she would be getting air lifted the hell out of this place, reunited with Chris and the others, on her way to take the hottest shower of her entire life. And whisky. She smiled at that. It was only a few days ago she sat alongside Sunderland at some tiny bar in Romania, no longer going through the details of the operation, having moved to conversation more pleasant. Personal. They could relax. Soon it would be over and it would go as smoothly as they practiced. Like a dance. They had already staked out the Winters' home. Knew every detail. Had taken the utmost care and precaution to stay off Miranda's radar.

Turning back around arms full and hair wild, he cast a glance to her bag. Oh right. There was the matter of payment. You can't get something for nothing.

He was running a business after all. "Money, of course. I have a little cash." Reaching into her bag, she pulled the envelope of stashed lei stashed.

"I think we could make a deal, but remember I also trade in treasures. Perhaps you've gotten your hands on some?

I only have these." She handed over the gems she had scavenged off the ground. "I thought they would bring me good luck."

She did feel lucky. In this wasteland of a village, she just stumbled upon a nice stranger willing to sell her ammunition and hot food. Like finding a taco truck in the middle of the desert.

Smile unfading the Duke held out his palm. She placed the money and jewels in his palm and, weighing them, returned a few of her bills to her.

"Well, a fair trade if I saw one."

Turning away, she tucked the items in her bag and carried on meeting the lady of the house.

"Good luck, Celia"

She nodded back to him, and made her way through sprawling castle doors, the merchant's warning ringing in her ears. Stepping into the foyer, a pit formed in her stomach.

I never gave him my name.