Blind Devotion

by dnd4evr

While on the run from a haunting past, a half-orc warlock finds himself the chance companion of a blind elf doctor. Despite her quirks, he finds great comfort in her company, and the two make fast friends...even if their enemies are never far behind. All original characters that are HIGHLY INSPIRED by the cast of Critical Role.

12. Chasing Shadows

The warehouse for the lumberyards, while close to the southwestern gate of Westruun, was not on the main thoroughfare from the gate itself. Instead, it followed a side path, and connected to a series of wide roads that fed the manufacturing sections of Westruun. Lumber from the Bramblewood was quite prized for its resilience against rot of all kinds, and its tenacity against wear and tear from repeated use. Planks, shingles, furniture, and even tools were made of Bramblewood lumber, and it was a prized export of the city.

Unfortunately, the attacks of the Ravagers have been relentless as of late, and the collection of suitable trunks had come to a halt. What was, just days ago, a bustling thoroughfare of lumber-laden carts and wagons of workers, was now a desolate stretch of battered streets, haunted by men and women praying to their gods of choice that they will work in the coming days. As three figures ducked behind large box-like buildings, whispers of screams and roaring rage drifted over the nearby wall whenever the wind breathed by.

"Gods above," Bera whispered, thankful they had taken a moment to rest behind one of the larger warehouses. "I heard the Ravagers were attacking the gates, but...I didn't think you could actually hear them from here."

"When did that start? I haven't heard anything," Al whispered back.

"Both of you, shut up!" Zoe hissed. "There are people right there around that wall and they'll hear you!"

Cowed, Al and Bera winced and nodded a silent agreement that they would talk about it later. A muffled boom echoed over the wall, and they all flinched.

"The fuck are those orcs using?" Al mumbled, but a glance toward the towering wall revealed nothing. Zoe slapped his shoulder to remind him, again, to be quiet, as she leaned around the corner to peek ahead for potential problems.

"...Okay, clear," Zoe sighed. "Seriously, Al, I can understand Bera talking a bunch while we're trying to hide, but you I'd figure would know the basics!"

"Give me a break! It's been a long fucking day," Al grumbled. He dragged a hand down his face in frustration. "You see any signs yet?"

"Not from here… Hang on," Zoe said. She bounced several times as she shook out her arms and rolled her neck, her eyes darting left and right across the alleyway. Silently, she dashed forward, leapt on an empty cart, hopped left and launched off the wooden wall to grab at an exposed crossbeam across the opposite wall. With only her fingertips keeping her anchored, she kicked off the wall and twisted backwards, and with a push off with her hands the second her feet made contact with the shingled roof, she managed to roll herself onto the roof a full three stories up.

"...Damn," Al whistled. "Zoe, that was amazing!"

"Shh!" Bera hushed, as she whipped her head around to hopefully spot any nearby threats. Thankfully, she didn't see anything, but that did little to assuage her fears.

Zoe waved at them to hopefully signal that she still wanted them quiet, and was pleased when both Al and Bera nodded and ducked back behind some piles of scrap lumber that was likely being bundled for firewood. Low on her belly, Zoe crawled her way to the edge of the slanted roof and pulled herself close, in the hopes that she could look up and down the street without being noticed. So far, they had searched several blocks of the warehouse district, but they had yet to find Clemont Street.

A shingle snapped loose under her palm and she pitched forward as it slid, and while she was able to keep herself on the roof, the errant shingle flew away from the roof and clattered noisily to the street. A gnomish man, dressed in well worn clothes and with a woodcutter's axe on his back, yelped in shock and jumped backward as it nearly took off his nose.

"Who the hell is up there?!" the man yelled as he shook his fist at the roof. "Get down here, you skulking nitwit! And don't you dare hide up there! I already saw you!"

Zoe ducked back down and swore repeatedly under her breath in a panic. Any witness could potentially call them out to whoever was behind these abductions, and it was already likely that the Shields of the Plains were somehow involved.

And then she heard Bera call out a greeting.

Missing her boots, jacket, and embroidered head scarf, Bera came tearing out of the alleyway yelling, "Hi mister sir!" in a child-like, high pitched voice. Zoe flinched on Bera's behalf as the halfling woman nearly tripped over her own feet and stumbled to just barely an arm's length away from the gnome man.

"Uh, hi," the gnome responded, clearly shocked and surprised at the sudden greeting.

"I'm looking for Nina!" Bera squealed, her speech accented by several joyful hops. "We're playing hide-and-seek and I'm the seeker! Have you seen Nina? She loves to climb and she's in blue! She's my best friend and she's hiding!"

The gnome sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, kid, I know it's been...empty this way lately, but it's not safe to play around here. There's lots of tools and sharp things and you could get hurt."

"But...I gotta find Nina first," Bera whined. With a pouty lip and deeply caramel brown eyes framed by bouncy curls, the gnome had no chance of resisting Bera's child-like charm.

He sighed and weakly pointed to the roof where Zoe was hiding. "She's up there."

Bera was instantly the picture of pure joy. "Yay! Thank you, mister! You're the nicest mister I've ever met!"

"Just...find your friend and go home," the man mumbled, and he trudged away. Bera kept up the act by calling for "Nina" to play fair and come down herself, up until the gnome was far enough down the street that she felt safe to drop the character.

"Now get the fuck down!" Bera hissed as quietly as she could manage. "If he looks back, you need to play the part!"

Bewildered, Zoe scrambled over the edge and flipped to land as gently as possible next to Bera, but then hesitated as she wasn't sure what the next step should be.

"Oh my gods- Just pick me up and praise me for being a good little girl!" Bera whispered through a very strained smile.

Zoe complied, and with all the hesitation of someone who had never held a child before, she hugged Bera and patted her on the head. "Uh, good...girl."

"You are a terrible actor," Bera grumbled as she squeezed Zoe just a little too hard around the neck. She only wanted to see if the gnome had turned a corner yet, but Zoe's angle was less than conducive to her efforts, so she had to tug more than she wanted to. "But...I think we're clear-"

"Good because you're choking me!" Zoe gagged. "Get off!"

Bera dropped down unceremoniously and, despite being practically tangled in Zoe's arms, stuck the landing beautifully. A cold wind rushed by, and threw her curls right in her face, which caused her to sputter and quietly swear.

"Al! Give me my damn boots and scarf!" she yelled as she fought with her own hair.

Zoe crossed her arms and smirked. "I thought halflings didn't like boots."

"Yeah, sure, lump us all together in a single pot," Bera grumbled. "I happen to like boots, okay?! Plus, it's cold! My feet are freezing!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Zoe giggled. "Where's Al-?"

She turned to see Al casually leaning against the corner of the building, his hand pointed at a wooden sign just under the lip of the roof where Zoe had originally been perched. The sign clearly said "Clemont St." above the number of that particular warehouse.

Zoe awkwardly cleared her throat. "Well, that explains why I didn't see it, right?" she said nervously.

Bera jogged over to Al and snatched her boots, coat, and headscarf. She immediately plopped down to the ground and began yanking the boots over her oversized feet. "The important thing is we know we're on the right street now, so let's start checking warehouses. Most of these are for the lumberyards, right? So how many of them could actually have barrels in them?"

"That's a good point," Al said quietly, and he scanned the street again for possible witnesses. Noone was nearby, and those he could see far down the street seemed more interested in their own work than in the three of them.

"Might as well start with this one," Zoe said. She walked over to the more reasonable door next to the oversized cart entrances and gave the handle a quick tug. To no one's surprise, it was locked.

"Hey, Al, can you get this?" she asked.

Al shook his head. "I can't just run around picking every lock on the street. If any of them break, or we get caught while I'm working, we lose every chance of finding Dahlia. We need to find a way to confirm the right warehouse before I go for the lock."

"Wuss," Zoe grumbled. "Fine. There's got to be a window or something we can look in, right?"

"Uh, doesn't look like it," Bera said as she glanced around the building. "Kind of makes sense; this one is on the smaller side."

Bera's eyes went wide as a sudden strike of inspiration took her. She snapped her fingers and pointed at Al. "You! Can you do that weird speak thing and talk to a shady person to find a warehouse for smuggled goods?"

Al blew out a puff of air and rubbed the back of his head. "It's...possible, but we'd have to find someone who knows Cant first. To do that, we need to find the cypher."

"The what?" Zoe asked.

"The specific code for the territory. There are some favorites, and there are some weird ones, but if we're lucky and it's one I know, it'll point us to a local underground man."

"And how do we find it?" Bera asked as she reshouldered her small bag.

Al shrugged. "Hard to say. I'll know it when I see it."

"We're wasting time!" Zoe grunted as she nearly punched the wall by the doorframe. "For all we know Dahlia's already been moved, and we've lost our only lead!"

"What about that weird phrase? 'Peter's son has a kernel of truth.'" Bera looked confused as she tried to remember. "Something like that, anyway. That has to be a code, right?"

"Yes, code, but we don't know what it's for," Al grunted in frustration. He rubbed his face in an attempt to calm down, and it really did not help. "It could mean a thousand different things!"

"Okay, just...hang on a second," Zoe said tersely, her arm across her stomach as she tapped her forehead. "Dahlia's smart. She must've done something… Maybe that mint smell again?"

"You're assuming she was conscious," Al grumbled. "She was stuffed into a barrel, remember? As our very recent experience taught us-"

"That's it!" Zoe had to catch herself before she shouted the rest of her idea. "Most of the warehouses around here are for lumber, right? Then they have to be big, for the trunks and equipment. That means, we have to look for a warehouse, on this street, that is too small for lumber work, because there has to be a reason to have crates and barrels around that won't look suspicious, right?"

"...No," Bera sighed. "They need barrels for varnishes and stuff, when they make product. It could be literally any one of these warehouses."

Al glanced up and down the street and chuckled at their luck. If it really was the smallest warehouse around, it would be the one they were standing in front of. It wasn't much, but it was something to go on, so he stepped up to the doorway next to Zoe.

With a quick warning to watch for anyone on the street, he pulled out a rolled leather kit and began to select his tools. The lock was simple, so while he could use a pick and a rake, it was honestly faster to use a bump key. He still used a pick to feel out the number of tumblers, and then selected an average sized key with barely any teeth on it and a rubber ring around the head. With a constant twist and a few hardy taps, the lock snapped open with a clunk, and the door swung loose.

"What the-?! You said that would take a while!" Zoe protested.

"It would take a while if I was being quiet, but time is of the essence here," Al replied. He quickly reassembled his tools and slipped them back in his bag. "Someone should stay out here and watch."

"I'll stay," Bera said as she raised her hand. "I don't know your friend and I've got a pretty sharp eye and a really small frame."

Al nodded. "Good luck. We'll be quick."

"Just listen for a really loud song!" Bera called out.

Al and Zoe ducked inside the dark warehouse. Due to its small size, it couldn't afford a raised floor to make loading and unloading carts easier, and as such a large wooden ramp took up almost a full wall from its storage place. Piles of scrap wood, already bundled for fireplaces, and several crates choked the available space, forcing them to carefully pick their way through.

"Good thing this place is small enough that we can tell it's empty…" Zoe mumbled. She had to stretch to step over a few piles of wood to land in a walkable spot, but she was undeterred. "This place is a mess."

Al nodded. "That's actually a good thing. It's easier to hide something in a mess than in a clearly organized layout."

"Wouldn't it be awesome if we found it on the first try?" Zoe said, clearly excited with the notion.

"Don't jinx it!" Al hissed. Just then, an odd shape caught the corner of his eye. With careful steps to avoid disturbing the piles, he worked his way over to a thin, but clear, winding path from the large doors to a back corner. He had to hop over some errant branches but, once on the path, he followed it along to find three barrels tucked behind a large stack of rootless stumps. Shocked and trepidatious, he gave off a quick whistle to grab Zoe's attention and practically dove for the closest barrel.

Zoe scrambled to catch up as Al punched at the lid to loosen it, and finally knocked it hard enough to pop up an edge he could grab. He ripped it open, praying he'd find what he was looking for inside, but it was empty.

"Shit! Nothing!" Al hissed. "Zoe, there's two more; grab one, I'll get the other!"

With a serious nod, Zoe shifted over and dropped her elbow on the second barrel while Al threw himself at the third. The lids on these barrels had a much tighter fit, and required multiple attacks before they jostled loose. Al managed to tear the lid off his a few seconds before Zoe managed the same, and he immediately noticed a waft of mint...but nothing else.

"Dammit, it's-!"

"Fucking hells!"

Al nearly jolted himself right into the pile of stumps as he whirled on Zoe, who was holding the barrel lid in her hands and staring at the contents. Terrified and trying not to show it, Al leaned over to glance inside the barrel.

A dead and eerily pale, gaunt face of a female elf stared at them with a gaping jaw and milky eyes. The exposed tongue was shriveled and nearly black, and the gums that clung to the visible teeth was practically white.

"What. The. Fuck," Zoe whispered, disgusted and horrified.

Al nearly gagged, but he reached into the barrel and shifted the corpse's head to check if there were any marks on the neck. Seeing none, he glanced deeper into the barrel, and his more sensitive vision noted the body was completely exposed and sported multiple vertical cuts along the parts of the forearms that he could see, mostly by the wrist.

"Any idea what happened?" Zoe whispered. Even as she curiously tried to peek into the dark barrel, it seemed sacrilegious to look too closely or speak too loudly.

Al sighed. "No idea, but...this body looks… Damn it, I'm no expert. All I know is this woman has a lot of cuts on her arms, is completely nude, and whatever the fuck happened to her is probably what's going to happen to Dahlia. That barrel over there? Smells like mint. She was here."

"First try…" Zoe cheered so anemically that Al wondered if she was about to pass out.

"One way or another, this place was involved," Al grumbled. "If we find out who owns the building, we could have another clue. I'm just pissed we missed her."

"Are we gonna need your contacts again?" Zoe asked quietly. She was still holding the lid of the barrel like a shield between her and the corpse.

Al leaned heavily on the barrel and sighed. "I don't want to; I'm nearly out of trade...wait, your father's pen. I can trade that, right?"

"I'm honestly shocked you haven't pawned it already," Zoe snickered. "Yeah, I got no problem with that. Just chuck it, far as I care."

"And with the snuff box…" Al mumbled. He stroked his chin and was temporarily thrown off guard as he had to remind himself he shaved recently.

"There once was a man from Marquet-!"

Both of them perked up as a very loud singing voice managed to break through the rough walls of the warehouse. With a glance and a nod, both Al and Zoe confirmed that sounded like Bera, and that was likely the signal.

"Who had ninety-nine jewels in a set!"

Al and Zoe raced to the front doors, and Al glanced up to notice a streak of light that was just barely peeking through the roof. A small hole, likely from the shingle Zoe had knocked loose, gave him an idea. With a short whistle to, again, grab Zoe's attention, he leapt at the sideways ramp and scrambled up off the top edge. Within a second, he had reached the upper beams and was twisting more shingles out of place from underneath. Zoe, confused but trusting in his abilities, followed suit and joined him on the rafter.

"With their flash and flair, he'd wail in despair-"

Several voices began to chatter just outside the door, and Al cursed under his breath. The shingle he was trying to dislodge was solidly in place, and he knew he couldn't expand the hole in time to escape.

"I haven't found the last piece yet!"

The voices outside the door burst out in short laughter as Bera, now clearly audible, played a short musical flourish on her lyre before diving into the second verse, still at an incredible volume for such a tiny being. The lock on the door rattled, but then laid silent as those outside clearly gave their attention to Bera for a brief moment.

"Help me with this!" Al pleaded, as quietly as he could. Zoe nodded, determined, and stretched up to grab at the shingle Al had been trying to nudge loose. With a wrenching twist, the shingle splintered and fell right off its nails, and Zoe passed it to Al to stash out of the way on the rafter where they perched.

Another round of laughter fell across their ears as Zoe tried again with an adjacent shingle, but her fingers slipped and scratched at her palm. If it wasn't for her gloves, she would have several splinters in her hand.

"Shit!" she hissed. "This isn't working!"

"And there's no back door," Al growled. He glanced at the somewhat bigger hole. "Can you slip through there?"

"I can definitely try," Zoe mumbled. She bit her lip and shifted her feet, as she knew if she missed her leap, landing on the rafter would be awkward enough to likely fail. She locked her eyes directly where she wanted to leap, and launched powerfully up into the air. Her arms and head sailed through the gap with no issue, and while her shoulders scraped the rough shingles, it was the curse of a feminine shape that truely caught her.

"Fu-u-uck!" Zoe hissed. The voices by the door continued to jeer at the plethora of puns in Bera's surprisingly loud song, as Zoe wiggled and pushed against the shingles to try and shove her hips past the small opening. They were running out of time and she was convinced the owners of those voices would immediately notice her butt hanging out of the ceiling.

Something grabbed her ankle, and she nearly kicked at it before she realized Al was still below her. Al pulled her ankle far enough that he could brace her, and after a second to make sure he was ready, Zoe shoved off hard enough to scratch and scuff her hips right out of the small hole. Her clothes nearly caught and ripped, but she managed to slip out with only sore hips to show for it.

She dropped down to her stomach and stuck her arm back through the hole. "Okay! It's your turn!"

Al shifted his feet and glanced back at the door, where the handle was again starting to rattle. Unable to mitigate his panic, he leapt at Zoe's arm, his own reaching for her limb like it was a literal lifeline. Unfortunately, he jumped with such speed that Zoe mistimed her grab, and Al slipped right out of her grasp and crashed to the floor below.

The door clattered open.

Despite his sore ankle, Al ducked behind one of the large piles of wood and prayed none of the new visitors had heard them. He fought to keep his breathing calm as he listened for the voices.

"So, now that she's done-"

"Hey, did you hear something?"

Al cursed and crawled to a new hiding place, desperate to keep the piles between himself and the voices. He had to find out how many there were, as if there were more than two, he might run into a straggler who had separated from the group. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, and he was suddenly inspired to use Dahlia's tips from when they entered Westruun.

He kept his breathing shallow and listened, his eyes half closed as he waited for the sound to come to him. Two voices were chatting softly by the ramp, contemplating if the previous noise was the roof losing a shingle or two. He waited, worried those men would turn the corner and see him, but then he heard footsteps. Two pairs. Two others were in the warehouse, and they were picking their way toward him, and he had a rough idea of their location.

Then he heard the other two talk.

"That renter wanted the barrels out, or in? I can't remember."

"Out, idiot. We got the shipment just a few hours ago. He already wants them back."

"Who rents out a warehouse just for a couple barrels? I tell you, it's-"

The first voice screamed.

Al cursed under his breath. They forgot to replace the lids on the barrels.

It was still a distraction he could use, and Al ducked and dashed away, weaving between the piles like a shadow toward the main door of the warehouse. The workers in the back were already arguing if notifying the Shields of the Plains was a good idea, or likely to get them killed. They had yet to reach a conclusion when Al grabbed the handle and pulled it open.

Al found himself face to face with a fully decorated Shield of the Plains.

Startled, Al tried to pull his blade, but the Shield grabbed his arm and yanked him out into the street, which caused Al to stumble. It took every ounce of will he had not to scream in panic as another arm suddenly caught him, which he immediately tried to fight off.

He quickly learned the arm was far too big for him to easily move.

Confused and disoriented, Al looked up to see Gauth had grabbed him. Gauth, with a smile, winked and hushed him as he led Al to a nearby alleyway, where Zoe, Bera, and Jonathan were waiting.

"What… What just happened?" Al whispered, although it was clear he was glad to see friendly faces.

"They showed up just after the workers," Bera explained with a smile. She motioned to Gauth and Jonathan, the latter of whom was sitting on the ground, propped up against a wall.

Al glanced around and noticed someone was missing. "What about Jayce?"

Zoe peeked around the corner back at the warehouse. "He did that magic disguise thing and rushed in to save your ass, but I guess he decided to do something else once you got out."

Al breathed a sigh of relief. "That's far better than what I thought happened. Thankfully, I don't think anyone saw me."

"While you're here!" Bera chirped with a smile. "Help us with the phrase."

"What phrase?" Gauth asked.

"The one Ceolmund said. 'Peter's son holds a kernel of truth-'"

Jonathan let out a creepy, chilling giggle that nearly caused Bera to jump. Everyone stared in confusion as Bera reset her embroidered head scarf and then turned to the man on the ground.

"And what's so funny?" she chided, her hands on her hips. "It's clearly a clue and we need to figure it out to find your friend!"

"Your friend…" Jonathan wheezed, his face covered in a sheen of cold sweat. "She's gone. She's just gone. Can't find her now…"

"Don't even go there, John!" Zoe snapped. She kneeled by her brother and tilted his head up so he could clearly see how determined she was. "We are going to find her, and she is going to help you-"

"But she can't," Jonathan whispered, a crooked smile creeping across his face. "She's gone. She can't help anybody."

Gauth squatted down and tried to poke at Jonathan's face, confused. "Something is wrong with him."

"You think?!" Zoe nearly yelled, but thankfully she caught herself before her volume could be audible from the street. "These headaches are fucking evil, and they-"

"Uh, no," Bera said, just forcefully enough to stop Zoe from talking. "Oh no. That's not your friend."

"Brother," Zoe growled. "Explain."

Bera vaguely motioned toward Jonathan's face. "That. That's all wrong. He may have been sick, but your fr-brother's face has always been soft. That's not soft. That's creepy, and...twisted. Like he doesn't fit in his face, if that makes sense."

Zoe grabbed a fistfull of Jonathan's hair above his forehead and pulled him back, forcing him to expose his neck and look directly at her. "Considering what you just said, what she said makes sense. Who are you?!"

Jonathan's face winced, but the lips twisted back into a smile. "You...are the last thing I remember. You killed me, didn't you? Fucking appropriate I'm stuck in your brother."

Zoe growled deep in her throat. "You will bring him back or I will destroy-"

"Really?" the voice from Jonathan said with a smirk. "You'll destroy your brother?"

"No," Zoe said, her voice taking a dangerously dark tone. "I'll destroy you. You think you're in pain right now? That's just riding off my brother's pain. I can make you hurt so badly you'll wish you were dead. That you had stayed dead. Do you understand me?"

The voice in Jonathan chuckled through his panting, and the smile never faded. "Do your worst. I've lived with pain. This is nothing."

"D'aw, you're so cute!"

Surprised, everyone turned to Bera, who had her hands on her cheeks like she was witnessing the smile of a newborn babe. She stepped up and leaned over just enough to be right in Jonathan's face. "You think you're strong? You think you can last? Oh bibby-boo, you're adorable. That body you're borrowing is doing all the work! You're useless without it! With that kind of pain in your real body, you'd be crying for your mother in seconds!"

A hidden note in her voice hit a screeching, fever pitch, despite her words being completely coherent, and Jonathan's body recoiled and spasmed from an invisible pain. His hands flew up to his ears, and his teeth began to gnash and clatter.

Zoe whirled on Bera. "What did you do?!"

Bera looked shocked herself. "Just a barely magical insult, that's all! It only hurts the head! I thought your brother would be okay because it doesn't physically hurt people!"

"And...it worked…" Jonathan wheezed.

"John! Are you back?" Zoe asked. She wasn't sure she dared believe it and hesitated before reaching for her brother.

Jonathan, clearly exhausted, nodded. "Yeah… Helman's...backed off for now. Sorry. He...snuck up on me while I was...I was trying to find...the warehouse."

Al stepped over and kneeled next to him. "And did you find anything?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Not about the warehouse...but I did catch a 'kernel' of something interesting."

"Goddess have mercy, please tell us!" Bera whined. "That phrase has been driving me nuts since that prickle-fart said it!"

Gauth barely stifled a laugh in time as Zoe and Al shared an amused look around Bera.

Jonathan looked at Bera with a tired grin. "Peter's son has a kernel of truth? Not the exact phrase, of course. It was a 'kernel of knowledge'... but that's not the important part. It was a hint at a name. Colonel Peterson. Helman knew him as the Margrave's right hand man, but beyond that...I don't know why Ceolmund mentioned him."

"It's something…" Zoe mumbled. She lightly backhanded Jonathan's shoulder, which caused him to flinch. "And don't you ever do that again! That was terrifying!"

"Like I said, he snuck up on me…" Jonathan wheezed. He rubbed his face and leaned heavily against the wall behind him. "Can today be over? I just want to sleep."

"It can be over when we find Dahila," Jayce's voice suddenly cut in.

Everyone turned to the front of the alley where Jayce was standing, the sparks of his magical disguise already fading. Despite the dried blood and hole on the side of his coat, he stood tall and strong.

"Yeah, but John needs to rest!" Zoe protested. "And we need a place to regroup anyway, right? We've got a name, probably one of the Shields, and...whatever you found out. Dahlia's strong; she'll last until-"

"Don't you remember?! She's fuckin' cursed!"

They all exchanged looks of worry while Bera glanced among them, confused. "Cursed?"

Gauth nodded. "A man cursed her with a desire to die. She is strong, yes, but if her will fades, she will harm herself, even to the point of death."

"Still thinking of sticking around?" Al asked, clearly sarcastic.

"B-but she's a cleric!" Bera gasped. "Who would curse a cleric?"

"That is what makes it worse," Gauth replied. "She was cursed by someone she healed."

"Bastard…" Bera whispered, clearly shocked. She wasn't sure she believed them.

"That said," Jayce cut in again, "this ain't a one-off; those blokes inside talked about rotatin' out a barrel every month or so, from whatever rump-wart is rentin' that corner of the warehouse. They take it north, an' drop it by a storm drain. They pick it up the next day, put it back in the warehouse, that's it. Seems t' me someone's walkin' by to dump bodies." He faltered slightly, his face briefly haunted by a shadow of fear and guilt. "Based on the barrel they were supposed to drop off, anyway."

"What was in it?" Gauth asked.

"Listen, you numbskull!" Al snapped. That image of the body in the barrel was still too fresh to stay calm when he was reminded of it. "He was just talking about dumping bodies! What do you think was in the barrel?!"

Gauth looked embarrassed and ducked his gaze away from his friend.

"So what's the next step?" Al asked quietly, silently ashamed.

"Findin' the man who owns the warehouse. I got a name and an address," Jayce said. "If anyone's got an idea who rents that back corner, it's him."

xXxXx

At the edge of the warehouse district within the Market Ward, there was a small, two story, ramshackle house that was barely a house. Decades earlier, the lower floor had been used to store tools for a local carpenter's guild, but these days it was a makeshift office with a table for a desk, a single chair, and just enough books to look like the owner was trying to be serious at their job. The upper floor was very obviously an afterthought, as it jutted out of a roof that had been visibly modified to accommodate the smaller one-room dwelling. It was here that the sought-after warehouse owner lived, literally unable to avoid his work if it came calling, even if he had gone home.

At that moment, the warehouse owner was sitting at his desk, busily counting coins from an advanced payment. He had made a mistake earlier that week, choosing instead to buy his customary tobacco leaf instead of the dried goods he usually chewed on, and the prospect of being able to have a warm meal made his mouth salivate in anticipation. Stomach pains continued to punch at his gut, even though his pipe puffed gently with the smoldering cheap leaves that helped the days feel bearable.

He nearly jumped out of his seat when someone, clearly livid, pounded on the door with fury. In a panic, the man scooped the coins back into the small pouch from whence they came and scuttled up the stairs, huffing and puffing by the time he made it up the single story. Once in his living space, he hastily threw the bag of coins behind a false panel in his wall and rushed to the shuttered window. The pounding downstairs now included someone shouting swears and demands that he open the door, but he wasn't worried yet; this wasn't his first time avoiding creditors.

Grumbling under his breath, the man gently opened the shutters, even lifting them against their hinges to avoid unnecessary squeaking. Once opened, he peeked outside and immediately swore to himself. The creditors were clearly getting more desperate, even hiring a greenskin and a goliath to hunt him down.

At the moment, they seemed distracted with their assault on his door, so he took a risk and swung himself out on the thatch roof. He just had to make it to the back of the building, take the plank he hid there to cross the gap to the next warehouse, and run. Easy.

"There he is!"

The man in the dark cloak spotted him, and so his only choice seemed to be what he did best. He ran for the other side of the roof, and tried to dive for the plank, but his foot had gone directly through a rotten patch of thatch. Pulled back by the inevitability of gravity, the warehouse owner's considerable girth ripped right through the roofing and sent him crashing to the floor in his office.

The bad luck followed him all the way down, as his precious table broke his fall and broke in the process. Stiff from the pain, he glanced at the broken remains and sighed. Yet another thing to replace.

The door frame cracked and splintered as the door slammed open of its own accord, having been punched by the goliath outside. He rolled over just in time to see the greenskin, his yellow eyes practically smoldering with murderous rage, stride inside the office like he owned the place, and the warehouse owner was nothing more than filth to be removed.

Terrified, the warehouse owner threw his arms over his head and wailed, "I don't have the money! I'm sorry! I'll have it tomorrow!"

"On your knees."

The man glanced up, confused but worried, and matched those eerie yellow eyes. He immediately regretted his accidental eye contact and scrambled to his knees, despite the pain that flared in his back and hips and throbbed through his skull.

Jayce kneeled down to scoop up a tattered pipe that had flown free from its usual perch, and then turned to the shivering man before him. All he could see was a shuddering waste of flesh, a gas-filled pus bag that gladly took coin in exchange for mortal suffering.

The snapping of the smoke-weed pipe was the only clue he had that his fist was clenching, but he didn't care.

"Thirteen two."

The barely sentient pile of excrement glanced up at Jayce, between darting peeks at the crumbled pipe in his hand. "Wh-what?"

Jayce fought hard to swallow his rage, to keep himself coherent. How badly he wanted to utterly destroy this subhuman leech. How easy it would be. His heart was pounding with excited anticipation. "Warehouse thirteen two. Clemont Street. Who rents the back corner?"

The man on his knees sputtered as he desperately tried to come up with a quick response. "I-I don't-"

Jayce's hand snapped out, his thumb hooked under the man's jaw to force him to make eye contact. He barely noticed his limbs going cold as oily blue-black flame started to lick across his shoulders and down his arm, wreathing his neck in dark fire that made the yellow of his eyes ever more extreme.

"Who. Rents. The back. Corner," Jayce growled, his jaw tight and his teeth bared. His grip began to tighten under the man's chin and he didn't even register that the man was now struggling to breathe.

"Jayce," a soft voice whispered in his ear, "let him go. You can't get answers this way."

Jayce whipped his head around, hoping against all logic that Dahlia had just spoken to him. Instead, he came face to face with a pale and terrified, but amazingly still composed, Bera, who had clearly thought twice about patting his shoulder to get his attention.

Embarrassed but still angry, Jayce dropped the man and stood to walk away. He didn't want to admit it, but he found the resulting desperate gasping for air from the man to be somewhat satisfying.

Bera turned to the wheezing man on the floor. "Sorry about that, sir. What's your name?"

"D-Donald…" the man coughed as he rubbed his neck. He cast a worried glance toward Jayce, who was only now starting to lose his wreath of flame.

Bera smiled and clasped her hands behind her to capitalize on her cute and innocent demeanor. "Hi Donald! Sorry again about my friend here. He's really, really worried about his friend, who we know was stuffed into one of those barrels in your warehouse. We don't have any problem with you; I know how hard it is to get coin these days! We just want to find the person who rented the corner, because it turns out they're cycling people and bodies through there, and that's really, really bad."

Donald glanced between the childlike sweetness of Bera in front of him and the restrained rage of Jayce barely a few feet away. He wasn't sure how a child could keep that monster on a leash, but for the moment, he was glad for it.

"I-I don't know," he sighed, but then winced and recoiled as Jayce twitched toward him. "I don't know! The man is always covered, hood, cloak, and scarf, every time he comes in! He never looks me in the eye and barely talks to me! He just leaves coin and instructions, and then leaves!"

"Oof… That's really no good, Donald," Bera said softly, disappointment dripping from her voice. Her face was soft, but her voice was clear and sharp. "We need something for my friend to work out his anger, you see. If we don't find the renter, that will be you."

Donald fell into a blind panic as his mind raced with all the possibilities of agony Jayce could possibly inflict on him. That cold sweetness of the girl seemed suddenly bitter and psychotic, and it was very clear his only chance at survival was to give them something, anything, to redirect their rage.

The instructions were verbal, so there was no paper or signature. The coin always came in a small grain bag, so it could have come from anywhere. The man's clothes were always covered by his cloak, so he never saw it. Then it hit him.

"His boots!"

"And what about them?" Bera asked sweetly.

Donald prayed he had enough to satisfy them. "His boots! I saw them, they're always clean. Really clean, even for these streets. Very solid and expensive, black leather. Silver buttons."

Jayce growled, his fists clenched at his sides. "That ain't helpful, shit-wit. You're practically describin' my boots."

"The buttons were engraved!" Donald wailed. He covered his head and cowered. "They had the crest of Westruun on them!"

"Oh fluckernuts," Bera wheezed. The odd curse caused everyone, even Zoe, who was positioned outside, to turn to her in mild shock. She turned to Jayce. "We've got enough. We should leave poor Donald be to put his life back together. Oh, and Donald?"

Donald looked up, his face clearly begging for mercy.

Bera winked and wagged a finger. "Remember, silence keeps you safe! We're really good at tracking people down, too, so keep that in mind."

With that, Bera swept outside, putting on airs of being carefree and relaxed. Jayce, still silently seething, glared at Donald one last time before he followed onto the street, where Zoe was standing by the door and Jonathan was nearby, leaning on a barrel.

"Where's Al and the big guy?" Bera asked as she looked around.

"Behind the building in case he ran again," Zoe said with a shrug. "Are we done here?"

"I don't think so," Jayce growled, "but Bera seems to."

"Let's make some distance before I run my mouth," Bera said with a nervous laugh. "Do we just yell for them, or…?"

Zoe nodded and whistled, and Jayce noted with amusement that while it was still loud, it was nowhere near as piercing as Dahlia's "storm whistle". Sure enough, Al and Gauth came jogging from around the corner, and they began to make their way deeper into the Market Ward.

"So what'd you learn?" Al asked as they walked.

"We-we really need a place to hunker down and talk," Bera shuddered. She couldn't tell if she was just that afraid or if the autumn air was getting colder.

"And why can't we talk here?" Gauth asked.

"Because as much as I'd like to, I really don't want to be overheard by walking tin pots," Bera whispered, her head on a swivel. So far, the roads looked clear, but they could be set upon by a Shield of the Plains at any moment.

"I can't believe a fuckin' shit-stain like that bile blilge is allowed to breathe," Jayce said through his teeth, his jaw tight. "Traffickin' people, and just dumpin' their remains. If I weren't sick of gettin' clapped in irons, I'd report him."

"That...probably won't help," Bera said hesitantly, her fingers twisting the edge of her headscarf. "It's getting late; let's get food and find a place to sleep, and we can talk."

"What about Dahlia? Every minute we waste is more of a risk for her," Zoe cut in.

"Trust me, we need to regroup!" Bera said, clearly firm in her stance. "I'm the one with the info, remember? Please, let's go eat."

"You better have yer own coin," Jayce hissed.

"Wow. Ouch." Bera huffed, clearly hurt. "After all I've done for you."

"Don't mind him," Al said quickly. "He has a temper problem. We've seen you help us, and we'll return the favor. We swear on it, right?"

Al turned a glare at Jayce, who seemed to finally notice his temper was getting the better of him. Jayce turned away in shame, and Al nodded, satisfied.

"Okay, so where's a tavern?" Bera asked as she looked around. "There's gotta be one nearby. This town is lousy with them."

Barely a street away, a small square opened up at a crossroads, where a tavern monopolized a whole edge of it by having both a place to hitch horses and a message board for local grievances and announcements. Both were nestled within a courtyard of sorts, surrounded by the tavern on three sides and a short fence on the forth, where a sign welcomed travelers to the protected space of the Golden Flask.

Out of habit, Al and Gauth stopped by the board as the rest of them passed within the golden light that kept the crawling darkness of dusk at bay. Gauth pointed out a few that amused him, especially one with a childish picture of an angry face that Al revealed had claimed to be a likeness of a man who had mugged the author of the notice. Al then spotted a paper that included an announcement for a wanted man, possibly a duo, and ripped the paper off its nail to rush inside. Gauth followed, confused and concerned, but made no comment.

Inside, they quickly spotted their companions, who were already passing out small mugs of beer and bowls to take part of a tavern pie that had been delivered to the round table. True to her race, Bera had already scooped herself a generous helping, the first to break through the pastry crust to the inside gravy and vegetables which steamed with heat, despite having been ready to serve for an hour at least. The others were much less enthused with their servings, as they all watched Bera eat with anxious energy.

"Alright, we're here, you're fed. Now talk," Jayce growled.

Bera cleared her throat politely and clearly noted the others had yet to touch their meals. She dabbed at her lips with a handkerchief and made a show of folding it nicely to place next to her bowl, but her tactics were clearly noticed.

Jayce slammed a fist right next to her, which caused her to jump, as he yelled, "Quit stallin' and talk!"

"Alright alright!" Bera squeaked, her hands up in defense. "The…" She sighed and rubbed her face with worry. "Those boots, they're standard issue for commanding officers of the Shields of the Plains."

"Well fuck," Zoe said, clearly in disbelief.

Bera nodded. "If we can believe what Donald said, then this goes way up the food chain. I know you really miss your friend, but...maybe your possessed wizard was right. Maybe this isn't worth pursuing."

"We're goin' after her," Jayce spat, insulted that she would even suggest such a thing. "You want out? You ain't required to stay. Door's that way."

Bera's hands, once again, went up in defense. "I'm just scared! We're talking about the elite of the guardian forces of Westruun! I mean, running is tempting, sure, but I need out of town, and so far, you guys are my best bet. I promised I'd help to pay for passage, remember? I'm still going to follow through."

"Good, because we need to leave town too," Al cut in.

Absolutely tired of all the drama of the past few days, Jayce dropped his head into his hand before he turned to face Al across from him. "What now?"

Al produced the notice and read it aloud. "Wanted: One man, possibly two, responsible for the murder of Bertin Ragoye, Cleric of Pelor, who was found dead in his temple on the 28th of Fessuran. Witnesses describe the man as being quite large, muscular, heavily scarred and in dark leather armor, with an eyepatch over one eye. A smaller man was witnessed to be following. The body was found with a note that said 'Bring the bitch here and no one else dies.'" Al folded the notice and looked straight at Jayce. "Sound familiar?"

"Malcom," Jayce growled with such venom that Bera felt safer once she scooched her chair a few inches away from him. "Won't forget that fucker as long as I live."

"Sounds like we need to be filled in," Zoe added.

Jayce took a moment to explain Malcolm and his little posse of Sy and the other one, whose name he could not remember. He gave them brief descriptions, peppered with plenty of personal comments about their parentage, but based on the notice, he then faltered. "Hang on, there should be two fuckers followin' him around. Why's there only one?"

Al shrugged. "Hard to say. Maybe he was playing lookout, and wasn't spotted."

Gauth crossed his arms and huffed. "Maybe the man is dead."

"I hope not!" Bera squeaked. "If they blamed your friend for the man's death, they'd...probably be hell bent on catching her. Toss me in a thornbush! Is that what happened?!"

Jayce crossed his arms. "No way of knowin' until we find the fucker and spare the world of his shit."

"Or we run," Zoe said. She patted her brother's shoulder. "Not all of us are good for a fight, and this sounds like it'll be a fight."

Jayce grumbled under his breath and, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, had to remind himself to stop clenching his jaw. "The important thing is findin' Dahlia. We'll figure out the rest when we get her, after we make sure she's okay."

"And, my condition aside, I'm not sure we'll make any more progress tonight," Jonathan wheezed. "Let me rest, and I should be better in the morning. Once I am, I'll face off with Helman and see if I can find anything in his memories on Colonel Peterson. He might be the commander type we need."

"This feels like wastin' time," Jayce grumbled.

"Taking care of yourself isn't a waste," Bera added, in a way she hoped was helpful. "We can't really chase after your friend if we're falling over from exhaustion."

"And it'll be for nothin' if she falls into that fuckin' curse again!" Jayce roared back.

The whole table went quiet as everyone looked at Jayce, quiet and judgemental. He looked over them all, the same fearful eyes he had seen all his life, and he launched himself up from the table with such force that the chair clattered to the floor on its side.

They saw him as a monster. Everyone did. That was normal. He was pissed off that he had expected anything different from them.

A dark thought entered his mind. If he made his way to the Temple Ward, it would be well into nightfall by the time he made it to the Temple of Pelor. He could lay in wait for Malcolm, and whoever was following him, and lay waste to them both. That would give him a chance to work out his anger, and potentially solve Dahlia's stalker problem.

Unfortunately, the walk was long enough to give him time to think, and he began regretting his decision to go alone. Dark streets lined with magical lamps gave cold comfort, and dark shadows seemed to follow him, but his pride prevented him from turning back on a whim. He should have mentioned where he was going, or perhaps he should admit defeat and go back anyway. Malcolm was huge, especially by human standards. Did he even have a chance against someone that strong?

He paused in the street and glanced at his hand. Then again, he did have that new power, and it seemed to be growing in him. He ducked a hand into his pocket to check that the small pebble was still there, and a plan began to formulate in his mind. If he could ambush them, surprise them with a spell or two and knock them off balance, that wouldn't even the odds, but it would help his chances.

Then a large hand landed on his shoulder.

Jayce threw himself forward and twisted, his sword flashing into his hand the second he faced the large being behind him. Gauth, unable to contain his mischievous streak any longer, burst out laughing.

"The fuck you doin'?!" Jayce yelped, unsuccessfully able to hide his brief terror. "I could've killed you!"

"But you didn't," Guath snickered, a hand on the back of his head. "Has your rage left you?"

Jayce sighed and let the flaming sword disappear into the ether. "Yeah… Started regrettin' my tantrum about two blocks back. Why're you here?"

"I am here to kill the men who hurt Dahlia."

Gauth said it so plainly, and with such a gentle look on his face, that Jayce briefly wondered if the giantkin was insane. Jayce cleared his throat to recenter himself and turned to look Gauth in the eye.

"And what if that was my plan?" he asked. He crossed his arms to put on a show of being serious, which Gauth seemed to appreciate.

"Then I will join you," Gauth said plainly. "He called my teacher a 'bitch'. I don't know what that means, but I know very well that is a swear, so I will kill him for it."

"Remind me never to piss you off," Jayce wheezed.

"I will make it easy to remember," Gauth smiled. "Come. Let's rid this world of their shit, yeah?"

Gauth, without waiting for an answer, continued his walk down the street, and Jayce jogged to catch up with him. "But...what about that look earlier? Everyone, even you, were starin' like I grew three heads. Last time I had to deal with that look, I got called everythin' under the sun about sharin' blood with a monster."

Gauth shrugged. "I was surprised. I know you have the rage, but I thought you were calmer than that. Dahlia missing hurts us all, but it hurts you most. I hadn't realized that before."

Jayce fought to keep a blush under control and looked away as he followed Gauth down the street. "Just...haven't had a friend who looked past the green skin before, ya know?"

"It helps that she can't see your skin," Gauth said sagely.

"Yeah, I know…" Jayce said, although he was lying. Usually, that thought was far from his mind. "Fuckin' shame it takes a blind friend to treat me like a person."

"Give them time," Gauth said with a smile, and he patted Jayce's shoulder as they walked. "For now, it is the monster we need, not the man. Once we are done, the man will return, and then the world will breathe a little better."

xXxXx

The chapel was deathly quiet, the steps to the altar stained a muddy brown from the dried blood of the murdered priest. The normally cheery light of the torches was clearly absent as dark shadows choked the pillars, as if the life of the priest had been the literal life of the temple, and whatever remained was being attacked by the haunted memories that were left behind.

A lone light spread through the pews, flickering as it threw long, unnatural shadows against the walls. Two men in dark armor entered the church, the largest of them with a torch in hand. That man was a nightmare walking, a one-eyed terror of violent grudges and rage. The smaller was a thinner man, his anemic frame only vaguely hidden by a cloak across his shoulders. They had barely made it halfway into the sanctuary when the smaller spoke.

"I'm not seeing anyone, boss," he said, his voice whiney. "Maybe they didn't take you seriously."

"If they didn't," the larger man's gruff voice growled, "we step outside and start slaughtering more. Then those fuckwads'll take me seriously."

They traveled a few more feet into the temple when the smaller one twitched, his gaze drawn to a slight irregularity in the shadow of one of the pillars. He paused, his eyes fighting to make sense of the shapes in the shadows, when he realized he was looking at a hidden figure's shoulder.

Just as the smaller man was about to yell and pull his sword and shield, the larger man roared in pain as he stumbled forward. The torch flew from his hand and clattered to the ground, the yellow orange glow of the fire mixed with a blue burst of flame across his skull.

Both men whirled and faced the rapidly closing door to the street, where there stood a man in a black coat, wreathed in blue-black, oily flame, his arm outstretched and a flaming falchion by his side. His yellow eyes practically flared with unnatural light as his face broke into a twisted, demented grin.

"Remember me?" Jayce said through that wicked smile, a bloodlust clearly consuming him.

For the first time in his life, Malcolm felt afraid.

Gauth, roaring with rage, lept from his hiding place and lunged at Gren, the smaller man, and brought down his greataxe with unrestrained fury. Gren squealed with terror and barely jumped out of the way, Gauth's blade sparking against the stone floor as it struck. Malcolm shook his head to clear it as Gren twisted and slashed at Gauth in retaliation, but his earlier terror made him hesitate, and Gauth brought up his blade to deflect the blow easily.

Jayce began to walk forward, another bolt of fire flying from his palm with a hissed curse at the two intruders. Malcolm took the strike in his chest this time, and nearly stumbled backward. Gren called for his companion, but Gauth immediately wrested his attention back with another slash of his weapon. Gren barely pulled up his shield in time, the blade of Gauth's axe screeching against steel as the blade slid harmlessly away from its target. Gauth roared in rage and frustration as he continued to advance on Gren, forcing him off balance.

Malcolm pulled his own axe off his back and, giving off a roar of his own, charged at Jayce, his blade low and ready for an upward strike. Jayce briefly panicked as the sparking blade swung upward at him, but the swing was clumsy and he was able to sidestep the attack easily. Behind Malcolm, Gren stabbed at Gauth with his shortsword, his shield up to protect his face. Gauth literally slapped the blade away and grinned, his gaze no different from a cat playing with its prey.

Jayce twisted the falchion so the sharp edge was facing Malcolm, and slashed directly for the barely exposed strip of neck he could see above the front edge of the collar on Malcolm's armor. The blade tore deep into the man's throat, blood spraying in the half second it took for Malcolm to slap a hand over the wound and begin to choke. Gren again called for his companion, and again his attention was taken by Gauth pressing the attack.

Gren angled his shield to send Gauth's axe careening into a nearby pew, where the blade wedged into the old and weathered wood. Swearing, Gauth yanked at the axe, briefly distracted as Gren tried to bury his own blade in Gauth's side. Gren threw everything he had behind the strike, but the blade barely sunk a quarter of its length, and Gauth roared directly into the terrified man's face from the strike.

Jayce glanced between Malcolm, on his knees and gurgling as he fought for air, and Gren, who was surprisingly able to hold his own against the mountain of fury that was Gauthak Gathakanathi. With another glance at Malcolm, he could tell the man wasn't going anywhere, and he pulled out that small pebble from before.

He focused right on Gren's exceptionally weasel-like face and remembered the moment Gren had literally kicked him when he was down. Again, a chill flashed through his arms as the fire flared across his shoulders, and with a demand for the man's death, a thunderous sound rang right between Gren's ears. Gren's eyes went red as blood vessels burst, and his nose began to bleed as he stumbled.

Gauth was struck by the magical sound as well, but he was able to shrug off most of the pain. What mattered now was removing his axe from the pew and taking down the men who hurt his teacher, the kindest woman he had ever known. Using Gren's distraction to his advantage, he yanked free the axe and twisted it around and over his head, to bring it down on Gren's skull. He barely missed, and instead buried several inches of the blade into Gren's shoulder, where it caught on the leather armor and came to a stop just under the man's armpit.

Jayce nodded his satisfaction and turned to Malcolm, who had fallen to the floor and was attempting to crawl away, his trail marked in thick blood. Jayce stepped forward and kneeled low enough to whisper to Malcolm, "Bit of advice; Always be nice to the healers."

With that, he grabbed the back of Malcolm's neck and hissed, "Die", as a flash of blue-black flame exploded through what remained of Malcolm's throat. Malcolm's head, now free from his shoulders, thudded sickly a few feet away and rolled to show Malcolm's last expression was one of terror, and likely one he would be wearing deep into the afterlife.

Jayce turned just in time to see Gauth dig his fingers into the wound left behind by his axe and mightily tear Gren's arm from his body, the action accentuated with an animalistic roar of triumph. Gren's body thudded heavily to the ground, his own blood spreading in an increasingly slowing pool of red as major veins expelled what little they had left. Gauth nodded his satisfaction, his rage sated for the moment, before he contemplated something that caused him to come to the conclusion that more was necessary. Jayce winced hard as Gauth's foot crushed Gren's skull enough to audibly crack the bones and slightly flatten it.

Gauth picked up his axe and pulled out a cloth to clean it, completely oblivious to the blood splattered over and around his body and boots. Jayce, a little nauseous from the display, cleared his throat to gently get Gauth's attention before he spoke.

"W-what was with that stomp?" Jayce asked. "It was pretty fuckin' clear he was already dead."

Gauth shrugged and clipped his axe on its holster on his back. "My people believe the skull is where the soul is, and if that is destroyed, those who defile the dead cannot raise your enemies to hunt you. I thought Dahlia would like to know her enemies would never follow her again."

Jayce looked over at Malcolm's severed head and considered it. "Not a bad idea, actually. Does just removin' the head count, or does it gotta be crushed?"

Gauth snickered and walked over to Malcom's head, scooping it up to look it in the face. "Yes, it must be crushed. I will take care of it-"

The doors creaked open, allowing voices to flow past the threshold between them and the street. Jayce and Gauth could do nothing but stare as they found themselves face to face with three men and a woman, all of whom sported weapons and a badge of a shield and five colored scales on their breast.

"Well damn," the first man, human and dressed in a decorated breastplate, said. "Somebody beat us to the bounty.

"To be fair," the woman, also human and in lighter leather armor, snickered as she crossed her arms, "the location was pretty obvious. I'm surprised we're only second."

The first man nodded in agreement and turned to Gauth and Jayce. "Good evening to you both. I'm assuming the eyepatched cranium in your hand is the murderer?"

"The...what?" Gauth mumbled, clearly confused. Jayce took the distraction to step forward and speak first.

"Got it in one, good sir," Jayce said with a cheerful smile. "Though truth be told, we ain't here for the bounty; this fucker's done wrong by a friend of mine and we're here to put a...permanent stop to such misdeeds."

The man's eyes, upon seeing Jayce, immediately narrowed. "I don't recognize you, sir. Are you part of the Tal'Dorein Defenders?"

Jayce blinked a few times before he answered. "I'm gonna be completely honest with you; I got no idea what that is."

"Clearly not…" the man grumbled. He took a breath and stood up straight. "The Tal'Dorein Defenders, the adventurers' guild of Tal'Dorei, inspired by the adventuring party Vox Machina, who defeated not only the Chroma Conclave that threatened our entire country, but also the Whispered One, Vecna, He-Who-Did-Not-Ascend. We live by their code of honor and seek to aspire to their glory through our own deeds to protect the innocent and the helpless."

"Okay, okay, speech aside," the second man cut in, "you're not guild members, so we can't take your word for it. As far as we know, you could be murderers yourselves, who just found a really convenient victim." He glanced behind them. "Or two."

Jayce panicked for barely a moment before he snapped his fingers and dug into his coat. Sure enough, Wolf's letter was still in his front pocket.

"That's fair," Jayce smiled awkwardly, but then he held out the letter. "I'm assumin' you know Wolf, right? This is her letter of recommendation."

The first man stepped forward, clearly cautious, but he relaxed as soon as he realized Jayce was being genuine. He took the letter and, ignoring the bloodstain on the corner, he opened the letter to give it a brief read.

"...Handled the ankhegs in the eastern fields...spoke with integrity, seemed honorable… Yep, this is her signature." He folded it back up and replaced the twine before he handed it back with a smile. "You're lucky to meet Wolf. She's usually so busy in the Bramblewoods no one sees her for months at a time."

"I've been told I'm a lucky sonuvabitch," Jayce said with a joking tone. He replaced the letter in the same pocket. "I take it Wolf's big britches 'round the guild?"

The man beamed with pride. "She's one of the Warmasters of the Westruun branch," he explained. "That letter more or less guarantees you'll pass the inspection."

"That is lucky!" Jayce said with a genuine smile. "We'll get on that then. Meanwhile, as we ain't official guild members yet, as a sign of good faith, we'll let you take the bounty-"

Crunch.

Jayce winced and slapped a hand to his face as the small adventuring group in front of him all flinched away and went pale from shock. Gauth, holding a significantly thinner head between his hands, glanced at them all in confusion.

"What?"

"That...seemed excessive," the third man gulped.

"It's so some necromantic fucktard don't raise 'im," Jayce said weakly. "I promise, he doesn't just have somethin' for crushin' skulls."

"Right," the first man said, clearly drawing out the word due to disbelief. "However, I appreciate you offering us the bounty. Consider Borgi's Company to be your allies in the future, should we meet again."

"Well met, and good travels," Jayce said with a smile, and with a friendly wave, they passed Borgi's Company and found themselves back on the night-cloaked streets of the Temple Ward.

"Did you have to crush that thing while we're were talkin'?!" Jayce hissed, his face in his hands.

Gauth shrugged. "It was better to do it then than forget."

"Fair enough," Jayce sighed. He lifted his arm to check the bandaged wound on his side. "And another fuckin' hole to fix. I gotta find someone who knows how to mend this damn thing before I run outta thread."

"You are quite attached to that coat," Gauth mused. "Is it a gift?"

"More like...a memento," Jayce said absentmindedly. He was thinking over how he would fix the hole in his coat and failed to realize Gauth was asking about his past.

"Someone you lost?"

Jayce stopped dead in his tracks as he realized what they were talking about. He immediately began walking again and waved off the conversation.

"Previous captain, made an impression. Now, more importantly, what're we gonna tell the others when we get back? We're covered in blood."

Gauth chuckled and stretched his arms. "We tell them the world will breathe easier. Why hide what we've done? Those men were filth, and they hurt Dahlia."

"You wouldn't believe how bad…" Jayce mumbled.

"We should find a place to wash, and then meet the others. Then they will worry less," Gauth said with a smile. "There was a trough outside the tavern; that should work, as long as we do not let the blood wash into the horses' water."

Jayce agreed to try, and the two of them headed back to the Golden Cask. Unfortunately, it was a long walk, and despite their efforts, they were spotted by the local constabulary while still coated in blood. Rather than comply and confront the guards, the two decided to run, where Jayce immediately ran into, and tripped over, a crate by the street while Gauth, laughing, accidentally slammed himself into an apple cart next to it, which was clearly less amusing. As the guards blew a shrill whistle and charged at the downed men with spears ready, Gauth turned to Jayce, who was still trying to untangle himself from the crate and the plethora of apples scattered across the street.

"Jayce, I thought you were lucky," Gauth pouted.

Jayce got up to his knees and put his hands in the air rather than risk pissing off the guards even more. "Luck's a fickle bitch, Gauth. Never rely on it."

xXxXx

Shackled and sore, Gauth and Jayce were marched to the Hall of Reason, a beautiful courthouse of the high elven style, with sweeping arches over the doors and an almost living feel to the stylized beams that crossed each edge and corner. In front of the large oaken door and wide steps was a statue of the dragon god Bahamut, his silvery wings stretched toward the sky as he looked down on the damned who passed his base. Jayce glanced upward, already aware trying to find mercy in the gaze of a statue was fruitless, but the firelight of the Shields' lanterns made the draconic face ever more harsh and frightening. He gulped back his trepidation and followed the constant instructions to keep walking.

Inside the main doors was a much simpler hall, with two doors to the right and one to the left, and a desk laden with a very heavy book. Jayce briefly wondered if it weighed more than Bera as he was yanked over to an iron ring, set in the wall, where his shackles were briefly undone to be thread through. If he had any plans to fight back in that brief moment, the guard behind him had a spear pointed to the small of his back, and had already made plenty of threats to harm him if he tried.

Gauth was herded to the opposite side, where he was lashed with chains between multiple rings, rather than just one. He growled and made a move to bite the man closest to him, which caused the man to shriek and jump back. Gauth laughed, but did not fight his captors, even when they intentionally pulled it too tight to be comfortable and left him to his devices.

Finally, the guards finished their work, with four of them returning to the streets outside, and two others taking positions at either end of the hall. Jayce sighed heavily and leaned against the wall, as he was finally feeling the stress of the day catching up to him.

"So, Gauth," Jayce called quietly, "any good ideas for convincing the guards we did nothing wrong?"

Gauth, his back flat against the wall behind several criss-crosses of chains, shrugged to the best of his ability. "We tell them the truth. We did nothing wrong."

"Have you ever been in a jail house before?!" Jayce asked, incredulous and annoyed Gauth seemed oblivious to their predicament.

Gauth grinned. "No."

Jayce dropped his head against his arms and whined to whatever god was listening to show them mercy in the coming hours.

The farthest door on the right slammed open as a man in a blue robe with silver trim marched out, followed by a well decorated Shield in half plate and two swords on their back. Their helmet and armor made it impossible to tell if the person was male, female, or even human as the robed man walked toward them.

"You're in luck," the man said clearly, his voice projected through the hall with ease. "You happened to come in before I went home for the evening, or else you'd be chained until morning."

"Thank you, good sir," Jayce said with as much heartfelt gratitude as he could muster. "I assure you, there is a perfectly rational reason for why we are currently coated in blood."

"One I would absolutely love to hear!" the man yelled, clearly frustrated with his extended work evening. He took a deep breath and returned to standing straight, where he nodded to the guard next to him.

The guard nodded and stepped in front, where a clear voice announced, "Now presiding, Scalebearer Piersym, High Judge of the Hall of Reason. Your statements will be heard upon request only, on threat of pain, up to and including a loss of limb. Bahamut brings mercy to the innocent, and punishment to the unworthy. May you fall in the former."

Scalebearer Piersym traced a light blue symbol in the air, a short prayer falling from his lips as a matching blue light began to circle his feet. As they watched, the light flattened into an arcane circle, and stretched from one end of the hall to the other, washing over them with a chilling light. A tingling sensation raced up Jayce's spine as something tried to claw into his mind, but he shrugged it off, shivering as if cold. Gauth, however, looked briefly exhausted before he suddenly shook his head and seemed to revive from the ordeal.

Scalebearer Piersym whipped his head at Jayce and glared. "This is already a mark against you, orc spawn. My spell did not take, so I can't trust you to speak truthfully."

"I-I didn't know what that was!" Jayce stammered. "I won't lie, I swear!"

"Luckily, I don't have to rely on you," Piersym hissed. He turned and walked up to Gauth. "You. Tell me why you are covered in blood."

"We killed bad men," Gauth said simply.

"So you are murderers," Piersym sighed. "Take them-"

"They routinely beat a cleric of Pelor!" Jayce cut in, trying desperately to save the situation. "They abused her and forced her to sleep sitting up when they weren't extorting her for healing!"

Piersym's eyes narrowed toward Jayce, a clear warning to keep his tongue or lose it. Then he looked at Gauth. "Is this true?"

Gauth nodded. "She said herself she needed no bedroll because she knew how to sleep sitting up, and she is afraid of touch and strangers. She is cursed by one she healed to desire death when she becomes sad or unsure. She is kind and bright, but she is hunted by those in her past. We removed some of them today."

Even with his rough, abrasive nature and his simple speech, Gauth spoke with conviction, and Scalebearer Piersym looked both shocked and disgusted by what he heard. Just before he spoke, Gauth cut in one last comment.

"And those men murdered that priest! The one who helped us! He saved Dahlia when she was poisoned!"

Jayce flashed Gauth two thumbs up, despite being shackled to the wall. Gauth didn't notice, as he kept his whole attention on the scalebearer.

Scalebearer Piersym thought for a moment before he took a deep breath and nodded. "There was a bounty on that man, barely a day old. Were you going to collect the bounty?"

"I didn't know about a bounty until those other warriors showed up. We simply wanted them gone to help Dahlia."

The room was still and quiet for a moment as Scalebearer Piersym thought over what he had heard. He turned to the guard behind him and nodded, to which the guard produced a ring of keys.

"You will be released," Scalebearer Piersym said as if he was orating to a crowd, "on the condition you apply with the Tal'Dorein Defenders of Westruun within a day. The badge they wear will give you credence with the guards, despite your appearance, and will hopefully avoid other situations like this. On behalf of Westruun, I thank you both for your work in defending our streets when the walls demand so much of our strength."

With that, Scalebearer Piersym swept out of the room while his personal guard worked to unlock Jayce's shackles. As soon as he was free, Jayce rubbed his wrist and mumbled, "Third fuckin' time today."

"Wait, third?" the guard asked.

Jayce sighed and rolled his eyes. "First time, tried askin' the Shields for help findin' a friend, went real well, second, fought off a serial abductor who clapped some irons on me in the middle of a fuckin' fight, and third, you're lookin' at it. Been a hell of a day."

"Sounds like it," the guard sighed. They turned to release Gauth from the many chains that held him at bay. "My shift ends as soon as Scalebearer Piersym's home, and I'd like to ask you about that first one. Anywhere I could meet you?"

"Why do you want to talk to us?" Gauth asked as the chains fell away. He held out his arms so the guard could reach his own oversized shackles. "This seems odd to me."

"Let's just say I'm not a fan of Shields who abuse their station," the guard said, although it was unclear if there was a growl of warning in the voice or not. "Where are you staying tonight?"

"No offense, but I've had my fuckin' fill of Shields today," Jayce sighed. "I just wanna sleep."

The guard finished unlocking Gauth and turned back to Jayce. "Then I'll wait until morning. However, I do find it extremely distasteful that your attempt to ask for help ended up with you arrested. I would like your statement about those involved to hopefully prevent another situation like this from happening again."

"We're staying at the Golden Cask," Gauth said with a smile. "And if you can help, it would be good. Jayce gets punched for saying 'hello'."

"Thanks, asshole," Jayce grumbled.

The guard glanced over to Jayce and Jayce wasn't sure if he saw a wink or just a weird shadow under the helmet. "Trust me, I'm familiar with the feeling. I'll see you in the morning at the Golden Cask. Now, go wash up and go sleep. There's a fountain just a block east from here that should be good enough to get you to your beds."

"Thank you kindly," Jayce said, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion. "I...guess we'll see you tomorrow morning."

With a surprisingly cheery farewell from the odd guard, Gauth and Jayce made their way to the fountain, and then back to the Golden Cask. Despite the late, near midnight hour, the lamps were still lit and patrons were still chatting. The innkeeper was aware of them, and pointed them to the room Zoe had purchased for the night, so Jayce offered his thanks and led the way to the room in question. Jayce hushed Gauth, in the hopes that they could enter silently, but as soon as the door was opened, it was clear their hopes were in vain.

"Where were you?" Zoe huffed as soon as the door was open. She would have been louder but Jonathan was sleeping and she didn't want to wake him.

Jayce sighed heavily and glanced over to see his pack was left on one of the wooden cots in the room. "Gauth, you got this one. I'm fuckin' tired."

Gauth shrugged as Jayce dragged himself to the cot and started pulling out his bedroll. "We went to take care of those men from the notice. They won't hunt Dahlia anymore."

"And what made you think we didn't want to help?" Zoe growled.

Bera, on the next cot, barely suppressed a yawn. "Yeah. Why go without us? Aren't we a team?"

Jayce's cot squeaked in protest as he flopped heavily upon it and nearly immediately started snoring. Bera had to work really hard not to giggle at the sight.

Gauth shrugged. "They weren't worth the effort. They were useless. One of them got me here-" He pointed to a make-shift bandage on his side made from Gren's cloak. "-and I barely felt it. I think they were only alive because of Dahlia."

"She must be one hell of a cleric," Bera smiled, but then again fought back a yawn. "So, um, Al went out to find you guys-"

"He'll be fine," Gauth said with a smile. He counted the cots twice to make sure he came up with the same number and then took a full minute to decide there was only enough cots for the little people, and so he picked a corner by the door to sit and keep an eye on things. "He often runs off on his own if he needs to find something. He always comes back with answers, even if it isn't for something he was looking for."

"I...guess that's okay," Zoe said. She felt awkward for snapping at Jayce and Gauth when they were just defending their friend. "Still, probably a good idea from now on to keep the rest of us informed, right? We're not all stray cats like Al."

Puffpaw perked up from her spot, cuddled on top of Jonathan, with an adorable chirrup of curiosity.

Zoe giggled. "Not you, Puffie. You're a lady."

Satisfied, Puffpaw settled back in to keep her master warm.

"Okay, now that the chaos is over, I'm going to sleep," Bera yawned. "And just to warn you, big guy, we tried to talk it over, but we have no idea how we're going to investigate the Shields about your friend."

Gauth gave a grave nod as he settled himself in to sleep. "I am not surprised. They hold a lot of power here."

"If we just knew where they were holding her, or how to find that Colonel Peterson bastard…!" Zoe grumbled. She cracked her knuckles in frustration and sighed. "Maybe I'll dream of something. That'd be a nice change of pace."

"Then goodnight," Gauth said kindly. "And put out the lamp; Al doesn't need it."

Zoe nodded and extinguished the flame, pitching the room into darkness. All was quiet, save for soft snoring and the occasionally audible purr, and those present finally drifted off to sleep.

xXxXx

On the pretense of trying to find Jayce and Gauth, Al had excused himself from the group when the hour had become late enough to worry. Truth be told, he had a feeling Taneli would still be tailing them, and he wanted to nip any further Clasp involvement in the bud before they got a leg up on his friends. Well, friend. He wasn't quite attached to the siblings, and despite his best efforts, he kept butting heads with Jayce, but Dahlia wasn't too bad. And then there was Bera, who was just weird in a surprisingly entertaining way.

He had been patrolling the streets for nearly an hour with nothing to show for it, and he was about to give up. Then again, if Gauth and Jayce hadn't come back on their own already, he really would have to go out looking for them; it never looked good if the so-called "search party" came back before the target. He had a rough idea of where they might be, as Jayce had stormed off after he read that notice. He did feel bad for the priest, but how could he control men he never met? Then he wondered what happened to those platinum pieces Jayce handed over. There was no way the priest could have spent it all in a day.

Just as he was musing over the idea of searching the cloister behind the temple, a short whistle grabbed his attention. Al whirled around to see Taneli effortlessly perched on a nearby crate with a smug look on his face.

"Didn't think I'd actually get a chance to tail you one of these days," Taneli teased. "Weren't you supposed to be a living shadow or something?"

"It's been a long day," Al grumbled. He stepped over to Taneli while the man snickered at his expense. "What about you? Rook send you?"

Taneli tilted his head coyly and grinned. "Do I have to say? What if I just missed you?"

"Rook sent you," Al grumbled. "Thanks for the gift, by the way. I'll get something nice to remember you."

"You'd better," Taneli said softly. He slid off the crate and stepped up to Al, putting them barely inches apart. "I've never forgotten."

"Hard to forget your first, after all," Al replied. His voice was soft and low, his mind already wanting to forget the day and throw off his frustrations. Al came to his senses and winced, and looked away. "It was fun, but I'm working. I'm offering trade."

Taneli closed the distance between them and slipped an arm around Al's hips and placed a hand on his cheek to gently force some eye contact. "So am I, Al. I could tell the moment we met that you haven't had a tumble in a while. What if I help?"

"And for what? Nothing's a charity with you!" Al hissed. "Even showing you who you are cost me more than I bargained for!"

"Did it really cost you?" Taneli whispered into Al's ear. "I simply pointed you to an expert, that's all."

"And lost five months of my life," Al growled. "That damn gnome had me on a leash."

"You can be forgiven for being naive," Taneli purred. He pressed his own hips into Al's, where it was clear he had a specific idea for what was going to follow their conversation. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you got away."

Al was quiet for a moment as he allowed himself to indulge in the begrudgingly welcome touch. Taneli's hand slipped behind his head to tangle his fingers in Al's hair, and Taneli gave it a gentle tug as he brushed his lips against Al's. Al failed to suppress a groan and deepened the touch into a kiss, slipping his own arms around Taneli.

Taneli pulled away with a smile when he noticed Al wasn't ready to stop. "Seems like I pegged you right, again."

"You have a talent…!" Al groaned. He pressed into Taneli until he had pinned the man against that crate from before. "How much is this going to cost me?"

Taneli grinned playfully. "Just a name, but we can talk about it when we're done."

Al's resolve left him. It had been so long since he had been intimate with anyone, and presented with the opportunity, his body craved it. Deft hands made short work of belt buckles, even with the distraction of passionate kisses and desperate bodies. Al pressed his hips as close to Taneli as was possible and took them both in his hand to stimulate their arousal.

Hardly any stimulation was necessary, but it was greatly appreciated. Taneli let out a moan that was uncomfortably loud for the public setting they were in, and despite the dark alley, Al caught him blushing when he was reminded to be quiet. Al smirked, confident that Taneli was still the same man from nearly half a year before.

"You're blushing," Al whispered teasingly in his ear.

"N-no, I'm just warm!" Taneli gasped. "Stop teasing me and take me!"

"No, if I'm going to pay for this, I'm going to get my money's worth," Al breathed. "Try not to attract the guard with your moaning."

With a subtle squeeze and pull, Taneli's hips bucked towards Al's with clear desire. Taneli bit his lip rather than moan, but it was clear he had only barely caught himself in time.

"Good to know the old tricks still work," Al grinned.

"Gods dammit, Al! You're not the only one who wants it!" Taneli gasped.

"Have you been with anyone better than me?" Al whispered, his hand continuing to stroke them both. "Be honest, and I'll give you something nice."

Taneli tried to resist the temptation, but it was a losing battle. He tried to stall. "Al, it's been months. I've-!" He threw his head back as Al's fingers stimulated the tip beyond its veil. He could barely keep his voice down. "I've been...playing the field!"

"And…?" Al asked, his own voice husky from desire.

"Fuck! There's no one like you!" Taneli gasped. "Gods above, no one compares!"

Al nodded, satisfied, and dropped to his knees. Taneli grinned like an impatient fool as Al's lips began to encompass his arousal, his tongue playing along the length. He was gentle with his teeth, just enough to stimulate the skin without pain, and he alternated types of pressure to keep Taneli guessing. Al's hand worked in tandem and Taneli had to bite the pad of his thumb to keep from moaning out loud.

After he was sure Taneli was desperate for more, he stood and pushed Taneli onto the crate. "Good to know you're still really receptive to me. Either that, or I'm just that good."

"Why are you so good?!" Taneli gasped. "I swear, no one in Westruun fucks like you."

"Trade secret," Al smirked. Taneli offered no resistance as Al practically ripped off his pants and flipped him around, pressing his upper body against the crate to expose him. Al leaned down to offer oral stimulation, both to excite Taneli past control and facilitate the insertion of his member. Once Taneli was whining from the anticipation, Al finally stood up and pressed himself inside.

It took everything ounce of his will, but he started slow. His rhythm was gentle, tantalizing, despite how desperately he wanted more. He distracted himself by stroking Taneli's hips, using strategic pulls to deepen his thrusts. Once he felt no resistance, Al could wait no longer, and he unleashed his passion upon his former flame.

The crate began to creak and scrape from the repeated abuse, but it was barely audible through Taneli's choked moans and Al's panting. The crate unexpectedly lost its traction for half an inch, and it was enough to throw Al over Taneli's body, changing the angle enough that Taneli almost cried out in surprise. Al discovered that he rather preferred the new position and braced himself against the crate, thrusting with the culmination of half a year's worth of frustration.

Far too soon, Al released everything he had in Taneli, who responded with a climax on his own. Exhausted but satisfied, Taneli glanced back at Al, who smiled in return and kissed him on the cheek.

"Oi!"

They both nearly jumped at the voice and Al stumbled back, fighting to keep his cloak over the two of them as he glanced behind him at the alley entrance. A guard with a lantern stood there, shining the light toward them.

"Break it up! No solicitations on this street!" the guard barked.

"Told you you'd attract the guards," Al snickered. The two of them replaced their pants as quickly as they could and ran before the guard could get a better look. Once around a corner to the back alley roadway, Taneli burst into giggles and collapsed against the wall, leaning heavily on it as he continued to gasp for breath.

"Okay, yes, I'm loud," Taneli snickered.

"And a blusher," Al teased.

"Fuck you," Taneli said, but it was with a smile and only a playful bap to Al's arm. "...I've missed you."

"And we both know we're a couple of feral padfoots," Al sighed. "Case in point, as much as I enjoyed it, this was a transaction."

Taneli deflated slightly, but quickly regained his composure. "Exactly. A name. I just need a name of someone involved with this kidnapping scheme."

Al barely kept himself from blurting out a laugh. "Kidnapping? Seriously?"

"What?" Taneli shrugged. "It's Cant for 'abduction'. You know, like 'the kid's napping' to say someone's gone missing?"

"Gotta love Cant. Twenty-seven words for a cutpurse but only one for any race in Exandria."

Taneli playfully jabbed an elbow into Al's side. "Although I can't say 'ivory' really fits your half-orc friend. He doesn't have any!"

Al shrugged. "Apparently they got knocked out when he was a kid and they never grew back."

"Oof. Bad luck," Taneli whistled. "Back to business. Name."

Al briefly thought over every name he had heard in the investigation so far. If he mentioned Colonel Peterson, the Clasp would easily get to him before they did. However, if he mentioned that warehouse owner…

"We were able to find a warehouse that was a stopping point for the 'kidnapped'-"

"Actually," Taneli cut in, "maybe you don't have the same scruples as your 'ivory'. Give me the name of that alchemist who made the memory potion, and I'll call it even."

Al winced and growled at the thought. It would be so easy… "Sorry, but I can't. Ivory did me a solid and I can't backstab him like that. The owner of the warehouse where we found the barrels, and a body, was Donald on Croft Close. And just because I like you, the warehouse was one-thirty-two on Clemont Street."

Taneli was disappointed, but he was in too good a mood to fight over it. "Fine. We'll look into it. And if you ever change your mind, that alchemist is worth a favor coin. Just think it over, and you can find Rook at the same old place."

"I appreciate it," Al said as Taneli clambored his way to the surrounding roofs. Al stretched his shoulders and cracked his neck before he glanced around to try and spot the moon to estimate the time. Unfortunately, the little sky he could see through the gaps in the roofs was cloudy and dark, so he had no clue.

Al decided it was no longer worth the effort to stall and headed back to the Golden Cask. Under the assumption that everyone would still be awake, Al made no attempt to hide his entry when he threw open the door. It immediately bounced off Gauth, who, true to form, barely flinched from the accidental attempt at assault. Zoe grumbled and rolled over, a one finger salute limply held over her head as she pulled her coat over her face.

Al breathed a sigh of relief and glanced around the room. Three bunks of two wooden cots each lined the walls, and Al glanced at Gauth, sitting up against the wall. Al shook his head and took one of the empty upper bunks and settled down to sleep, finally relaxed.

xXxXx

Jayce startled awake, with such force and panic that he bit his arm to suppress the urge to scream. His eyes raced around the room as he tried to remember what happened. Did he fall asleep in the same place he woke? Yes, he was pretty sure. It still seemed to be the Golden Cask, but he didn't pay attention to the room-

Wait, there was an easier way. He glanced at the beds. Jonathan on a lower bunk, Zoe next to him, Al and Bera above them both. By the door, still asleep, was Gauth. Dogged with hesitation, Jayce reached above him to nudge the upper wooden cot, and it easily moved on its chains. No one was in it. He was exactly where he should be.

He patted down his person. No strange wounds or bruises. He was safe.

With a sigh of relief, Jayce flopped back down on his bedroll, immediately sore as he realized he fell asleep in both his armor and boots. And his coat, now that he was thinking about it. No wonder he was covered in sweat.

An image crashed through his mind, which caused him to grip his head and roll over. He whined in fear as he once again saw the last image of his nightmare. He had opened a barrel to find a strange, skin-colored liquid inside, and floating on the surface was Dahlia's distorted face.

What torture was she dealing with while she waited for him? Would she forgive him for letting his guard down? Was he already too late?

Maybe the sweat was a cold one from the nightmare.

He wiped the sheen from his face and checked the bandages under his coat. The wound had been deep, and it still hurt terribly, but it was tolerable now. In the windowless room, the darkness was oppressive, and even his sensitive eyes strained to gather any detail from the wrappings. As far as he could tell, they were still clean, so there was no need to change them.

As it was quite clear Jayce would not be able to fall back to sleep, he slid off his cot and grabbed his bag and bedroll. As he packed, he was wracked with guilt as he realized Dahlia had spent a night under the mercy of her captors. He remembered the garden where the sunlight bent itself to touch her, and he prayed silently to Pelor, begging to keep her shadow at bay until he could find her.

If her god loved her so much that he would bend light to comfort her, he couldn't let her die in a dark prison, right?

His stomach grumbled and pain twinged through his side. It suddenly dawned on him that, in his fit of rage last night, he had neglected to eat dinner, and everything afterwards had him so exhausted that he didn't even notice. He had no idea what time it was, but he hoped it was late enough in the morning that the innkeeper already had the kitchen fired up and ready to serve.

Distracted with his many thoughts, Jayce made it to the common room and found a seat at the bar counter without even looking around to see if anyone else was seated or served. As his mind waffled between worry for Dahlia and wonder for his next meal, someone dropped into the neighboring seat and pushed over a mug of some sort of golden liquid.

Surprised, Jayce glanced at the seatmate, but then did a double take as he realized he was looking into the face of a fellow half-orc, although their eyes were brown and their tusks were short and blunt. Jayce couldn't help but stare in shock as the companion's face stretched into a heavily amused grin.

"Surprised?" the half-orc said in a remarkably familiar voice.

"Wha-? You-? Guard?!" Jayce stammered, completely unable to make a single coherent sentence. The half-orc burst out laughing and nearly folded in half from the resulting mirth.

"Oh gods…!" they wheezed, still wracked with giggles. "I never get tired of that. Good morning, sir! I'm Jaen. Nice to meet you."

"...Jayce," Jayce responded, still staring in shock. "Didn't… But, how? You're a fuckin' Shield and...you're like me?!"

Jaen winked and pulled up a bag from their hip and produced that strange helmet Jayce had seen the night before. "Two reasons. One, I'm very good at my job, and two, out of sight, out of mind."

"...Guess that makes sense," Jayce mumbled, clearly in disbelief. "Now I know why ya wanted to know about those assholes from yesterday."

Jaen nodded. "I take discrimination very seriously, and as I am a liaison between the Shields and the Church of Bahamut, I carry more authority than most high ranking Shields in Westruun. Do you have any names? And how did you get away from getting shackled in the first place? The first time I saw you was late in the evening."

Jayce briefly entertained the notion of explaining what exactly happened to Helman, but then decided against it. "Somethin' bigger came up while I was bein' frogmarched downtown, and I had a friend take off the shackles."

"Something bigger than a half-orc talking directly to the Shields and pissing them off enough to get arrested?" Jaen asked, their eyebrow up in disbelieving curiosity.

Jayce punched the bar and gripped at his head at the memory. "I just asked for some damn help! My friend's been abducted and I'm scared to fuckin' death that I'll never see her again, alright?!"

Jaen almost recoiled at the outburst, but took a second to breathe and keep their calm. They pushed the mug a little closer to Jayce and spoke softly. "It sounds like you're really tired, sir. Take some cider and breathe for a minute, and then we can talk. I can wait."

Jayce scooped up the mug and downed half of it in one go. He never thought of himself as a day drinker, but he had to admit the burn of the alcohol and the reflexive loosening of his shoulders was a welcome addition to his morning. He sighed and let his hand fall heavily to the bar, the mug clattering as it settled.

"I am...fuckin' tired," Jayce mumbled. He leaned on the bar and rested his face on his palm. "Been all over this damn city tryin' t' find her, and...Gods damn it all, I'm terrified I'm gonna be too late."

Jaen gently placed a hand on Jayce's arm, and Jayce immediately thought of Dahlia's fear of such a simple gesture. She must be in utter hell.

"I know my comrades were...fuck it, absolute hambrains about how they handled your request earlier, but please, if you need help, I will do what I can to assist you. Who's your friend, and what happened to her?"

Jayce turned to Jaen and gave them a long, hard look. As much as he didn't like the Shields, just for virtue of being guards, Jaen had made a solid effort to be kind, even going out of their way to seek him out and try to right what was to them an egregious wrong. Even though Jayce had absolutely no notion as to what gender this half-orc was, or even where their loyalty truly lied, he felt confident that Jaen was on his side, even if they did hail to the Margrave.

He launched into the story, explaining who Dahlia was, sweet and pure and broken, and what she had done the day she disappeared. He mentioned that, somewhere around getting ordained (although he wasn't sure if that was the right term) and delivering a baby from a dying mother, she had apparently met with the person who wanted her captured.

"Wow. That's a busy day," Jaen whistled.

"Mornin'," Jayce grumbled. "That's all before noon."

"Oof. No wonder you're tired," Jaen said softly. "What happened after she disappeared?"

"We tried to track 'er down," Jayce said, his voice clearly disappointed in himself as he leaned on the bar. "Found a witness who saw a Shield stuff 'er in a barrel with some cloaked bastard, so tried to talk to a group of 'em, see who I could tip off. Ended up in irons-"

"And 'something bigger' came up," Jaen said with a humorless smile and clearly sarcastic air quotes.

"I wasn't jokin'," Jayce said as he picked up the mug for a sip. "Got a friend who's 'round eight feet tall."

It was Jaen's turn to stare in disbelief as Jayce took a moment to enjoy what little remained of his drink. He had to admit, the look was entertaining.

"Did you...just admit to assaulting a Shield of the Plains?!" Jaen gasped.

"Nope. I was in fuckin' irons, remember?" Jayce replied.

Jaen studied Jayce's look with intensity before sighing. "I'll let it slide because you clearly were in the right at that moment. Can I at least have the Shield's name?"

"Helman," Jayce said with a shrug. "Can't remember his rank or last name. Bit of a rat, I'll say that much. Slimy bastard."

Jaen sighed again, more deeply this time as they rubbed a hand over their face. "I think I know the one. At the very least, his name has come up in my investigations. Anyway, please continue."

Jayce obliged. "After that, one of my companions noticed somethin' on him that made us think the Clasp were involved, and trackin' down one of those assholes was a fuckin' trial. When we finally did corner some Clasp bloke, we nearly got roped into some scheme t' track down the abductor. That was the plan anyway, but per my companion with connections, we refused, tryin' to avoid debts an' all. We paid coin for the info an' headed off to find the asshole."

"I don't suppose you'll let me in on how you found them," Jaen cut in as politely as they were able.

Jayce shook his head. "I hardly understood it myself."

"How so?" Jaen asked.

"Some conversation about a pirate ship and finding ham for a dinner party? Fuckin' strange."

Jaen sat there, clearly at a loss. "...Ah. Right. Do go on. Did you find him?"

Jayce nodded. "At a bar fulla mercenary types. I confronted him, sly about it, got him to admit he hunts people for a livin'. I made look as if to hire 'im, then dropped the description of my friend. He didn't take too kindly to that, and challenged me to some sorta duel. Barely got out of that alive."

"The second time you were handcuffed," Jaen added.

"Exactly." Jayce rubbed his head as it started to swim. He really needed to eat before he continued, as the alcohol was affecting him far too quickly to keep his guard up. "I'm feelin' peckish. You interested?"

"Am I buying?" Jaen teased. "Let me answer that. Yes, and yes I'll buy. My treat for you trusting me so easily." Jaen turned and motioned to a young man organizing bottles at the other end, and quickly ordered some breakfast foods for the two of them. By the time Jayce had parsed through his thoughts and felt ready to speak, hashed potatoes and cottage cheese had been delivered.

Jayce tucked into his food with enthusiasm as Jaen gave him a moment to eat. By contrast, Jaen barely touched their meal, and twirled their spoon on its end as they were consumed with deep thoughts about the investigation so far.

Already feeling much improved after several mouthfuls, Jayce sighed contentedly and turned to his new friend. "Not to yer taste?"

"No," Jaen mumbled, clearly distracted. "Just thinking… What race did you say your friend was?"

"Elf. Why?" Jayce asked.

Jaen took a moment, still twirling the spoon. Their eyes were distant as they spoke. "All bounties go through the Hall of Reason for approval before being distributed through the city. Some things get fastracked, like a murder, but others sit on the desk for a while if they're considered a low priority. Pickpockets, missing pets, that sort of thing." Jaen looked at Jayce with a complicated, undefined expression. "Every month or so, I'd go through the bounties to see if anything needs updating; part of my duties under the Scalebearer. Every month, without fail, there would be some version of a bounty for a missing person, usually an elf. Missing people happen, but a new bounty for a new elf once a month? And the fact that I've caught one of my commanders slipping in there to grab certain bounties… I guess there's a reason none of those bounties last longer than a week before expiring."

Jayce tried again to read Jaen's face, but found nothing. "So, yer already aware somethin' ain't right with the Shields."

Jaen shook their head. "I have no proof, just a gut feeling. But, that doesn't mean I'm blind to circumstance. Corruption is inherent with any system, and the challenge lies in mitigation."

"...I'm assumin' that means it's hard to keep it under control?" Jayce asked.

Jaen nodded. "Exactly. So, whatever's going on, the abductor has the help of, at the very least, a few members of the Shields of the Plains."

They both went quiet for a moment as they thought over the recent revelation. To Jayce, it was no surprise, but to Jaen, it was clearly a blow to their pride.

"Did you find anything else yesterday?" Jaen asked quietly.

Jayce paused a moment, trying to get a sense of where Jaen's head was, before he continued. "Yeah, actually. After beatin' that abductor, he let slip...kinda intentionally, now that I think on it, that 'Peter's son has a kernel of knowledge that'll tell you more'. Then the asshole dove through a window and disappeared. A coupla my friends ran off to check out a location he gave us, and the rest followed, tryin' t' figure out that riddle."

Jaen had a look that made it clear they already had a thought on what that riddle meant. "Any progress on that?"

Jayce nodded. "Figured it meant some Colonel Peterson was involved."

"Fuck," Jaen growled. They rubbed at their temples. "The only one more untouchable than him is the Margrave himself. Do you have any proof?"

Jayce shook his head. "Best witness we got can only describe the man's boots."

Jaen sighed as if the weight of the world was on their shoulders. "Anything else?"

Jayce quickly went over the warehouse, including the warehouse owner's brief but memorable encounter. "Pretty sure the workers ain't in on it; they were pretty fuckin' terrified when I showed up."

Jaen nodded, more to acknowledge the statement than to agree, when a figure appeared behind Jayce and slapped him hard enough on the back that Jayce nearly spat his food across the bar.

"Mornin'!" Zoe chirped, far too energetic for most decent people's mornings. "Hey, Jayce, did you realize it's barely sunrise?"

"Good morning, Zoe," Jayce grumbled into his arms. It seemed the better option that actually looking at her after food almost blasted out of his nose.

"Who's your friend?" she asked, easily sliding into a seat on Jayce's opposite side.

Jaen stood up and offered Zoe a hand. "I'm Jaen, an apparently interesting Shield of the Plains who's sympathetic to your plight," they said with a smile.

Zoe's eyes narrowed with suspicion as she looked over the extended hand. After an uncomfortable pause, she also stood and took the hand with a friendly shake. "Nice to meet you. I'm Zoe, monk of the Cobalt Soul," she said with a smile.

"Good morning to you, Zoe," Jaen said. "We were talking about your missing friend. Danna?"

"Dahlia," Zoe said with a nod. "Any way you can help?"

Before Jaen could respond, Zoe yanked Jaen's arm forward, pitching them nearly into Zoe's chest. Jaen barely kept their footing but did manage to stop just short of Zoe's face, which suddenly sported a rabid scowl.

"That doesn't include slaughtering innocents at a protest?" she hissed.

Jaen paused, gently removed their hand from Zoe's and stood up straight, their face expressionless. "Ah. You're one of them."

"Damn straight I am!" Zoe spat.

Jayce sat between them, silently swearing to himself in panic that he hadn't thought to ask when Jaen first started talking to him.

Jaen nodded. "I suppose we'll have to talk about Palest Pride then."

Zoe's jaw nearly hit the floor and Jayce looked between them, completely confused.

"You're fucking joking," Zoe said, clearly shocked.

Jaen smirked and nodded. "Been a rebel since the day I was born, just finally had a cause."

"Hold on one fuckin' minute," Jayce cut in. "What?!"

Zoe motioned to Jaen as if she was surprised Jayce didn't know. "Your friend is part of the resistance against the margrave!"

"But, ain't you some high flyin' Shield?" Jayce asked.

"I'm loyal to Westruun, not the Margrave," Jaen explained. "And if we continue talking in this vein, I'd like to go somewhere private. Roving ears and all."

"Right, yeah," Zoe nodded, clearly more excited by the second. "Everybody's still in the room; wanna head there?"

"I'm game, as long as no one objects," Jaen said with a smile.

The two headed off to the room, and Jayce followed numbly behind. That had escalated quickly.

xXxXx

Once Zoe had gently woken Jonathan, warned him to cover his ears, and then loudly woken up everyone else, Jaen was introduced to the group and the others were brought up to speed on what just happened. Unsurprisingly, the others were just as hesitant to bring up the memory potion as Jayce had been, and so were glad when Jaen glossed over that part in their recounting of the story.

"And that's what I know," Jaen finished. "Anything I'm missing?"

Jonathan, looking far more alive than the previous evening, piped up. "The witness Jayce had mentioned is the same as the warehouse owner. His name is Donald, and his office is on Croft Close."

Jaen nodded and clearly committed the comment to memory. "I'll look into him. In the meanwhile, the fact that Colonel Peterson's name was dropped is very worrisome."

"How so?" Al asked, followed immediately by a yawn.

Jaen's jaw went tight as they clearly tried to figure out a way to say what they knew. "While he's not the highest ranking officer in the Shields of the Plains, he is...in charge of...damnit. I don't want to call it 'cloak and dagger' but that's pretty much what it is."

"So he's a spymaster," Jonathan said.

"He's never been called that specifically, to me anyway," Jaen sighed. "But that's my assumption. He handles 'personal matters' for Margrave Zimmerset, and is almost never far from the margrave's side. He's a dangerous man." Jaen winced and touched at their forearm. "In fact, I got my placement because I sparred with him once. Literally cut off my arm, and it took a priest nearly a day to put it back."

To prove the rather outlandish remark, Jaen rolled up their left sleeve to show a thick white scar that ran the circumference of their arm at an angle. "I believe the margrave's exact words were 'better to keep a greenskin that dangerous on our side.'"

"Asshole," Jayce mumbled to himself.

Jaen nodded. "Since I was assigned to the Scalebearer and the Hall of Reason, I've been working with the dissenters to keep students and known rebels from staying in the prisons for too long. If I can, I prevent them from getting jailed in the first place."

"Sounds pretty risky for you," Jonathan said. Puffpaw vocalized an agreement with her master's opinion, or it was a request for Jonathan to keep petting her. It was hard to tell as Jonathan immediately resumed stroking her back and she seemed to completely lose interest in the conversation.

Jaen nodded and sighed. "I'm not sure why I haven't been caught; maybe Bahamut agrees with me. However, I'll keep doing what I can."

"This is...interesting, but how does this help us?" Bera asked. "You're a Shield and a rebel, so...how does that help us find their friend?"

"If you give me a day, I can start looking around and asking questions. That warehouse had to be paid for, and the money had to come from somewhere; if the books have been altered, I know a few people who'd be pretty interested to know. Better yet, if I could get a copy of the books, I have a contact in the Academy who's practically chomping at the bit to find anything on the margrave."

Zoe flinched. "Actually, did...someone at the Academy try to assassinate the margrave recently? Like the last couple days?"

Jayce knew exactly what she was talking about. Dahlia's assessment of the would-be assassin was still pretty fresh in his mind.

Jaen rubbed their chin and thought deeply. "Not that I recall… The rebels are more interested in getting the margrave publicly humiliated and removed so we can collapse the militant government system."

Bera pulled her bedroll over her head and whined from her bunk. "I just wanted out of the city…! Why is this getting complicated?"

"Not surprised," Al huffed.

"Like I said," Jaen said gently, their hands out to imply they meant no inconvenience, "give me a day to investigate. Get your affairs in order or look into the matter yourselves, but come to the Hall of Reason in the evening so we can compare notes. If we're lucky, either one of us will find something solid to use on the Margrave."

"I don't like the idea of Dahlia sufferin' for another day," Jayce grumbled, his hands clenched together as he leaned on his knees, "but it sounds like we ain't got options."

"If it helps, get passage arranged out of the city," Jaen added. "If this goes as high up as I think, it might be better if you all disappear after finding your friend. I recommend Whitestone. As a sovereign state, even those on the Tal'Dorei Council have little sway over them."

"Where is that?" Jayce asked.

"Northeast!" Zoe chirped, clearly excited. "Just follow the Parchwood Way to Turst Fields, then the Alabaster Trail takes you straight there!"

"You got the fuckin' map memorized?" Jayce snickered.

"Just...a basic overview map of Tal'Dorei," Zoe said awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by her outburst, but she did her best to own it. "Doesn't have the little settlements, but it's got all the main cities. Besides, Whitestone is fucking famous. They have magic machines there that make gnomes drool in jealousy, heated streets that never freeze, and a clock tower that tells the story of Vox Machina on Winter's Crest. I've been told it's literally impossible to describe."

"Then it sounds like you have a plan," Jaen smiled. "I'll head out, and wish you luck. Good hunting."

The others shared the sentiment as Jaen turned and left the room without another word. Jonathan then picked up Puffpaw and hugged her to his chest as his eyes rolled back and his face started to twitch. Following each other's gaze, they all began to watch Jonathan dive into the memories of the late Shield who had been involved.

Puffpaw yowled in pain as Jonathan suddenly wrenched his arms, his back snapping into an arch as his face twisted in anger and pain. Just as quickly as it started, it finished, and Jonathan went limp, Puffpaw dropping from his lap and growling from her bruised dignity and spine.

"Okay then…" Zoe said softly. She nodded to Bera, who begrudgingly climbed down from her bunk and walked up to Jonathan.

"Hey Jonathan," Bera said sweetly. "What's the password?"

"What…?" he responded, clearly exhausted.

"The password!" Bera beamed.

"Uh…" Jonathan's eyes darted quickly around the room, pausing briefly when they fell upon Puffpaw. "Cat."

"Wrong!" Bera sang with a flourish of her hand. "Then again, I wouldn't expect an idiot to figure it out!"

Again, a strange, screeching note followed the harmonics of her words, and Jonathan nearly recoiled from the pain. He gripped his head and folded in half for a moment, but then unfurled, tired, but seemingly fine.

"Ow…" he mumbled. "There is no password."

"And John's back," Zoe smiled. "Turns out we did need the 'password'."

"I'm confused," Gauth said.

"While you all were out," Zoe explained as she sat next to her brother, "we talked about how Helman almost took over John yesterday. We came up with a code so that if he did manage to grab John's body, we'd know it wasn't him."

"And I didn't want him parsing my memories looking for the clue," Jonathan said with a smile. "Ugh. I didn't expect him to grab me so easily now that I'm feeling better."

"Speaking of," Jayce said, "how are you feelin'? You were practically walkin' dead yesterday."

Jonathan rubbed at his face. "Admittedly, I'm not perfectly better yet, but I do feel much better than yesterday. I should have just a standard headache now."

"Great, but did you get anything from Helman?" Al asked. He also hopped down from his bunk and began to collect his things.

"Yes and no," Jonathan sighed. "He blocked my attempts, but...he's getting weaker. He's fading. On the one hand, I'm glad I won't be sharing his consciousness for an indefinite duration, but on the other, we're rapidly running out of time to reference his knowledge."

"Then I say you should pull as much information as you can before the opportunity is gone," Al said. He shouldered his bag and clipped on his cloak. "In the meanwhile, at least one of us should look into getting horses, or a cart. I have the same feeling that we'll need to run, fast, once we break Dahlia out of her captor's clutches."

"Okay, hang on a second," Zoe said hesitantly, her hands out as if to physically stop anyone from leaving, "just...bare with me. Earlier, Jaen said 'the only one more untouchable is the margrave', right?"

There was a pause as everyone thought it over. Jayce spoke up. "Sounds about right. Mumbled it, but I heard it clear as day."

Zoe paused for dramatic effect, although unintentionally. Her face was grave. "What if it does go all the way up? What if she was abducted by the margrave?"

"Oh come on, Zoe," Al said, clearly annoyed. "We all know you hate the guy."

"But hear me out!" Zoe blurted, trying to state her case. "Jayce, you were there; He was creepily fixated on her, remember?"

Jayce slowly nodded. "Yeah. Talked straight to her the whole time. Almost couldn't get his eyes off her."

"Exactly!" Zoe said, bouncing off the cot. "So the guy we have renting the warehouse is the margrave's shadow man, right hand man, whatever man, and dogs that loyal rarely do stuff for themselves, right? Ceolmund said she had made an impression on the captor, and she met him just that morning. And Jaen said this happens every month! What if the margrave has some sick fetish or something and he happened to grab Dahlia? Who better to bury or expire bounties before they are supposed to?"

"I can't decide if you really hate the margrave or if you have a point," Al mumbled, tapping his chin. "Still, Colonel Peterson is the margrave's right hand man, as you said, so we could potentially investigate both at once."

"And how do you propose to do that?" Jonathan asked. Puffpaw, also curious, hopped up to his shoulder and perched, watching Al intently.

Al turned to Gauth, still sitting on the floor. "Gauth, do you still have Dahlia's bag?"

Gauth nodded and pulled it out of his own bag after a quick search. "Why do you need Dahlia's bag?"

Al took it, after a quick glance at Jayce to confirm the half-orc considered him to be on thin ice, and held it to Jonathan. "We know she's got pain killers in here; We stuff you with enough to make you a pillar of the community, and send you in to sue your father."

"What?!" Jonathan shrieked. "Sue my father?! Are you insane?!"

"First off," Al said matter-of-factly, "we've got two witnesses who clearly heard your father threaten to kill you. Me, and Zoe. Me aside, Zoe's actually a known heiress of the estate, even if she's only adopted. With her on your arm, you have a strong case against your father, especially considering you've literally been living on the streets."

Jonathan shoved himself to his feet to talk Al directly in the eye. "You're assuming my father has no safeguards against that kind of retaliation!"

"And," Zoe cut in, clearly tense, "he's got people looking for John as we speak. Just waltzing into the Margrave's Keep will-"

"Keep you pretty safe, actually."

Everyone turned to Bera, who was tuning her lyre as everyone had been nearly screaming at each other. She shrugged. "Think about it. Is your father really influential enough to assassinate his own son inside the Margrave's Keep, including while possibly talking to the margrave? If he could, then why isn't the margrave already replaced by one of your father's men? He's been in that position for decades. Jaen was right; he's practically untouchable, and you will be too if you're close to him."

"Yipee. Let's have tea and crumpets while we're chatting. Maybe those little tea cakes with the vanilla icing!" Zoe hissed through her teeth.

"And you'll be polite while you do it!" Bera snapped. She put down her lyre and put her hands on her hips, her position on the upper bunk giving her the advantage of looking down at her audience. "You've all heard the phrase 'blood is thicker than water', right?"

"Of course we have," Jonathan said. He pulled Puffpaw into his arms and petted her to try and keep himself calm. "Everyone knows it means family is more important than friends."

"Wrong!"

The whole room almost flinched when Bera jolted them. She crossed her arms and glared at Jonathan and Zoe. "The whole phrase is 'blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb'. The bonds you make with those you choose as your friends, or family, is stronger than anything else in this world, and the two of you are thicker than thieves. The fact that your father is trying to kill you is abhorrent, and if it'll get me out of this goddamn city faster, I will do anything in my power to stick it to that asshole and laugh like a loon while I'm at it! Now, do you have anything that has his handwriting? If we can forge a document proving the assassination contract-"

Al shoved his hands into his bag and started rummaging around with such fervor that Bera trailed off her own rant and watched him. After a moment, Al produced a small pen box, inlaid with mother of pearl and engraved with the crest of Westruun.

"It's a self-writing pen," Al smiled. "Straight from the earl's desk. Think this will work?"

Bera smiled and rubbed her hands together. "You all are more prepared than I gave you credit for. Once we know the code word to make it write, we'll dictate out a contract. Give me a few minutes to jot something down so we don't waste paper."

"Are we really doing this?" Jonathan asked, still half-petting, half-hugging Puffpaw. "This is slander against my father."

"This is a kick in the gonads to a man who desperately deserves it," Zoe said. She puffed out her chest and faced the group. "So we've got our in. I'm heading in with Jonathan as a witness, Jonathan's suing our father. We're going to forge an assassination's contract, right? What else?"

Gauth nudged Al from his seat on the floor. "Lead. You've broken into places before, right? Isn't that your plan?"

Al rolled his eyes. "My usual gigs involve replacing expensive shit with fakes! We're talking about smuggling a person. So we need to know the floor plan, the guard routes, shift change, as much info as possible. If we can't get any of that, we need one hell of a distraction."

"Like what? The Ravagers knockin' down the gates?"

Zoe whirled on Jayce the second it came out of his mouth. "Don't you dare jinx this! There are people I care about in this city!"

Jayce's hands immediately went up in surrender. "Sorry! Just, that'd be a fuckin' big distraction, right?"

No one noticed Gauth rub his scarred arm as Zoe begrudgingly agreed.

"Alright, so we have to split up. Bera, you work on the forgery. Here's the pen." Al handed over the pen box, and Bera gladly shoved it in her own travel bag. "Since we don't need a specialist, I'll head off to buy horses and possibly a cart. I'll have to see what options are available. Gauth, you're good with animals, so come with me. Zoe, Jonathan, get some respectable clothes for your debut, and Jayce, head to the library. Look up literally anything you can find on the Margrave's Keep."

"What? Hells no!" Jayce stood up this time. "You remember that blond little shit talkin' to Ceolmund yesterday? That was his fuckin' nephew, a monk at the Cobalt Soul, who was convinced I was some damned Ravager! You think it'll go unnoticed if I walk in and start lookin' up maps of the Margrave's Keep?! I'll get arrested before I even walk down the fuckin' stairs!"

"Then use a disguise, dumbass!" Al snapped back. "And make sure you change that coat, too. It sticks out like a sore thumb."

"That thing ain't infinite! What if I run out of magic while I'm readin' a book?" Jayce said, his voice strained with some combination of rage and fear.

Al locked eyes with Jayce, and flatly and cold, said, "Then be quick."

Jayce crossed his arms and growled. "Alright, genius. What's your fuckin' plan once we get all this information?"

Al shrugged. "Meet back here and discuss. Until we have the map information, and hopefully guard rotations, we don't have a plan. This is all just prep work."

Jayce glanced around at the assembled faces. Everyone was some mix of excitement or fear, but all held a clear resolve to see this through.

"Great…" Jayce mumbled. "I guess I'm goin' to a fuckin' library."

xXxXx

The weather was dreary as last night's clouds had not moved on, and despite the morning hour, the day was muted and flat with a lack of shadows. Jayce marched along the Westhall Academy promenade with purpose, increasingly anxious his disguise would falter without his notice and expose him for a fraud. Despite his desire to finish the work quickly, he had to temper his steps, or he'd leave Bera behind.

He glanced down at the little halfling, her embroidered head scarf tied around her shoulders like a makeshift shawl as her wildly curly hair bounced around her face. Just a simple change and she looked nearly a decade younger, clearly a human child. Bera noticed him watching her as they walked and she beamed up at him.

"Almost there, Daddy! We'll be at the library!"

Jayce winced. "Please, for the love of every fuckin' god on the pantheon, never call me that again."

"But that's the story!" Bera giggled. "I'm your daughter, here to write a report for my tutor. Just so happens the report's on old buildings of the city." She winked and grabbed his hand. "Besides, having a kid along makes your disguise far more believable, right?"

"Right…" Jayce mumbled, silently resigned to this torment. "And yer countin' the hour?"

Bera looked caught off guard, but quickly recovered. "Of course! We'll find a desk by a clock or something. That way we'll notice when it's about to fade."

"Just...three hours," Jayce sighed. "I don't wanna push it further than that. Magic ain't infinite."

"Trust me, I know," Bera said. She gave Jayce's hand a little squeeze to hopefully comfort him. "So, might as well practice your voice now. What're you going to use?"

Jayce thought it over as they walked, and was sorely tempted to show off. Would Zoe be right that any bard would "kill" for his talents? He imagined Bera's reaction would be funny if he mimicked her voice at first, but perhaps that would be better saved for another time. As he thought it over, Bera began coaching him, unprompted, on how to more naturally manipulate the tones of the voice, and while he was amused, he only half listened. By the time they arrived at the library, Jayce had chosen a slightly higher, softer voice more befitting of a high born man who could afford a tutor. Bera adopted her tried-and-true youth voice, one that was both higher pitched and steeped in childish joy.

Once inside, they were greeted by the same blue-robed attendant Jayce had seen just days before, and Bera exploded with youthful excitement, yanking on Jayce's arm as she bounced animatedly over the prospect of learning history about her own city. Once again, her audience was absolutely powerless before Bera's adorable charm, and the attendant let them skip the coat check and led them upstairs herself, straight to the third floor, which contained everything they could ever want to know about Westruun and its history.

"Now, where would you like to start, sweetie?" the attendant asked, as she kneeled down just enough to look Bera in the eye.

Bera gave it tremendous thought, one finger on her lip as her eyes darted left and around the room. "Um...Oh! Oh! I wanna do the Margrave's Keep! That's where the margrave lives! He's our leader!"

"You're right, he is!" the attendant beamed. "Just this way, sweetie. You and your daddy sit right over there and I'll be right back with a few books."

Per the instructions, Jayce and Bera took their seats, with Bera fighting hard to keep her giggles to herself.

"That's almost fuckin' terrifyin' how easy you got that woman around your finger," Jayce wheezed.

Bera kicked him in the kneecap under the table. "Disguise your voice! Be professional, you dunce!" she hissed.

Jayce barely spat out a yelp of pain but instead swallowed it back and took a deep breath to steady himself. The attendant returned shortly afterwards and placed two very large books on the table.

"This is a complete history of Westruun, the first few chapters of which were written by Palest Westruun himself. The second is a collection of documents on the Margrave's Keep, including diagrams of the grounds and notes by the original architect. It's a very old book, but it should have everything you need," the attendant said with a perfectly pleased smile.

Bera literally bounced in her seat and clapped. "Yay! Daddy! Daddy! Help me find a map! I wanna see where the margrave lives!"

Jayce, still disguised as a less toned, more rounded human man, flashed the attendant an awkward smile as he reached for the second book and began flipping through the pages. Bera, fully committed to her roll, almost climbed over his arm to see better as he pawed through chapter after chapter.

Finally, the book opened to a full floor plan, an upper floor on the left page, and a lower floor on the right. Bera squealed and started pointing out interesting rooms.

"Look! Look! This one says ah...ark...iv-ies?"

"Archives, kiddo," Jayce said in the disguised voice. "It's where they keep records."

"Like their best polo score?" Bera squealed.

The attendant laughed and shook her head. "No, sweetheart. He means records as in memories you write on paper. Who paid their taxes, who was born, who died, and so on. Those kind of records."

"Oooh!" Bera gasped, as if it was some big revelation. She glanced back at the map. "Oh! This one says 'bedroom'! I know that one!"

"Yep, you do," Jayce smiled. Despite his relaxed demeanor, he was actually quite pained. He had no idea how parents could deal with any child's energy on a daily basis, especially if they were as erratic and excitable as Bera.

Just then, Bera paused and looked curious. "Miss monk lady? Daddy paid a man to put a new window in my room."

"Oh! That's nice," the attendant said awkwardly, once Bera paused long enough that it was unclear if she would continue.

"So, um, my room's different," Bera said as she fidgeted with her hair. "My tutor said I gotta do a report on, on the, um, current Westruun? Um, so, um-" She turned and looked at Jayce with large, doey brown eyes as if asking for help.

Jayce had a pretty clear idea of what she was asking. He motioned to the book. "Ma'am, she's wondering if you have any current maps, or if the Margrave's Keep is still like this. You mentioned the book is quite old."

The woman thought it over. "It's possible it's changed… I'll have to look in our records-" At the thought, the woman smiled specifically at Bera, who giggled. "-but I shouldn't be gone too long. In the meanwhile, take whatever notes you like, so long as they're on the provided parchment and not the books."

"Yes monk lady!" Bera squealed, once again excited beyond all reason. "I'll be good!"

The attendant patted Bera and the head with a giddy grin and walked off into the bookshelves. Bera quickly turned to Jayce and made an intense face, clearly trying to prod him to some sort of silent conclusion. Jayce failed to understand until Bera mimicked hands on a clock, at which point Jayce refreshed his spell.

Once that was done, Jayce returned to the book. The floorplan was somewhat ordinary and featureless, with all rooms squared off and mostly uniform, save for the dining room and kitchen. Curious, he flipped the page and was surprised to learn there was a basement level as well. As the basement and first floor were on the same leaf of the book, he leaned down to try and catch a light behind it, so he could match up the drawings. It wasn't perfect, but the building was symmetrical, and it did show that the basement was nearly exactly the same size.

"What are you doing?" Bera whispered between peeks for the attendant.

"Just...checkin' the floorplan," Jayce whispered back. "No idea what I'm lookin' for though."

Bera repeatedly backhanded Jayce's arm as she tensely whispered, "I see her sit up sit up sit up!", and then immediately fell back into her childlike persona. Jayce scrambled to sit up and put on the face of a patient father.

"You're in luck," the attendant beamed. She had nestled three scrolls in her arms like infant children. "We have updated plans for the Margrave's Keep, post Conclave. If you'd like to see-"

"Does the Margrave fart?" Bera asked innocently.

Jayce failed to keep a laugh to himself and sputtered into his fist, doing his best to disguise it as a cough. He caught it just in time to successfully play it off as a hacking fit, rather than as a laugh at the margrave's expense.

The attendant stood stock still, her face screwed up as she clearly tried to bite back an amused laugh of her own. "Yes, sweetie. Everybody farts."

"But Momma said Margrave Zimmerset's too important to fart!" Bera protested.

The attendant put down the maps and tried very, very hard to keep a straight face as she explained. "I assure you, sweetie, everybody, big or small, important or not, farts."

"Daddy you're gonna have to tell Momma because she's not gonna believe me!" Bera cried.

"I...will do my best…" Jayce wheezed.

"Okay now I wanna find the playroom!" Bera giggled.

The attendant clearly fought between dashing a little girl's hopes and letting her discover the disappointment for herself. "Oh, sweetheart, the margrave doesn't have a playroom."

"Everybody's got a playroom! Where else are you gonna play when it's raining?" Bera asked, confident in her reasoning.

"Alright," the attendant smiled. "If you find a playroom, I'll get a candy for you."

"I'm gonna find the playroom!" Bera squealed. She opened the maps with Jayce's help and they poured over the scrolls. They made sketches, Jayce wrote down notes, and the attendant was more than happy to answer any of Bera's completely nonsensical questions. Finally, after they had managed to briefly chase off the attendant twice to allow Jayce to refresh his spell, Bera let out an exaggerated yawn that nearly got the attendant to join her.

"Oof. Looks like someone's a little sleepy," the attendant teased.

"I'm not tired. Daddy's tired," Bera whined.

"Then I guess it's about time you take Daddy home," the attendant giggled. She gave Jayce a wink and began to tidy up the maps, books, and notes. "And for being such a good girl, I think I can get you a candy anyway."

"Yay…" Bera yawned. She shook her head and slammed her hands on the table with a look of intense focus. "I'm not tired!"

"Yep. Definitely not," Jayce smirked. He scooped up the notes in one arm and Bera in the other. Bera, playing the part, immediately went limp and rested her head on Jayce's shoulder.

"I can help with the notes," the attendant said.

"Nah, it's fine," Jayce replied with a smile. "Not the first time, and won't be the last. Just, well, please walk in front of me in case I tip over."

The attendant obliged, and they made their way to the ground floor. As promised, the attendant found a small saltwater taffy, peach flavored, that she passed over to Jayce, as Bera gave the impression she was completely dead to the world. Finally, the two of them escaped to the promenade, where Jayce tried to drop Bera back to the ground.

Bera, however, had other plans.

"Jayce," she whined, her arms gripped around his neck, "carry me! I'm tired!"

Jayce rolled his eyes. "Yer a fuckin' adult. Walk," he said as he tried to tip her out of his grip.

"Noooo…!" Bera whined more pathetically, completely in contrast with her surprisingly iron grip around his neck.

Resigned to his fate, Jayce carried Bera halfway back to the Golden Cask, where she finally relented her joke at his expense and walked the rest of the way. Jayce let his disguise fade as they walked, and Bera looked over Jayce's sketches of the floor plan.

"Hang on a second," she mumbled. She looked up at Jayce. "You drew these to scale, right?"

Jayce nodded. "Yeah, best I could while eyeballin' it. Why?"

"Shouldn't the first floor and the basement match up? I mean, the second one does to the first, but not the basement."

Jayce took the offered papers from Bera and lined them up, but the lack of sunlight on the cloudy day did nothing to help him. Instead, he blew out a breath to steady himself and summoned the blue-black fire in his palm. His arm went nearly numb from a sudden chill, but the fire did cast light.

It wasn't much, but some light began to seep through the pages. Sure enough, nearly a quarter of the basement he had seen on the original plans was missing.

"Bera," Jayce breathed, his eyes wide, "I think I found Dahlia."