Valkyrie Profile:

Lenneth Novelization AU:

Disclaimer: I do not own Valkyrie Profile or any other tri-Ace properties. Please support the official release.

Chapter Thirty-One:

A Shot From the Dark

Barren tried to control his breathing and fear as he was suspended a few inches off the ground by the chains manacled to his wrists. He had been stripped to the waist and they had taken his shoes. His warden was a large man who wore all black and a hood with eyeholes.

"Gods… please…" Barren silently begged.

They had not yet begun their terrible work on him, but the instruments they would be using were all around the interrogation chamber. A brazen bull with fresh wood to his left. Small sharp handheld tools made to puncture, cut, or grip and tear were lined up neatly on a table to his right. In front of him was a saw. The victim was hanged upside down by their ankles from a rack while two men sawed him in half, starting from the groin and working their way down.

The chamber door opened and in walked Sheriff Agatha, two guards, and a thin older man. The big sweaty masked man greeted them with a silent bow.

"Oh, you get started without us, Brutus?" the older man teased.

The big man, 'Brutus', vigorously shook his head like an oversized child, getting a laugh out of the older man and the guards. Agatha stepped up to Barren, whose eyes were on the old man, recognizing him right away.

"Ferny the Chief Interrogator," Barren realized with no small amount of terror.

Ferny was bald, but had let his remaining white hair around the base of his crown grow long down to his shoulders. He still had a sturdy upright way of walking and seemed more than physically capable of the work required of him. He wore dark simple clothes, the kind one did not mind throwing away if it became covered in various bodily fluids, and a heavy apron. Barren had recognized the man by the deep cleft in his chin and the long hawk nose.

Agatha smiled coldly before the suspended Barren.

"Mr. Barren van Buren," Agatha greeted icily. "How are you finding our accommodations."

"No wine or biscuits? I should complain to your manager," Barren spouted off the first deflective response he thought of to cover his fear.

"Oi, the Sheriff jus' asked ye a question," one of the guards shouted. "You address her proper!"

He raised the blunt end of his spear to strike Barren. Ferny's hand shot out, stopping the guard.

"Eh?" the armored man grunted at him.

"Now now, leave that to the professional," Ferny spoke with a much softer voice than Barren had expected.

"Last chance," Agatha said. "Tell me where to find your hideouts, caches, and secret paths."

Barren just looked on, refusing to speak.

"We already know your dear friend Lucien is the Scarlet Swordsman and your Cheap Side Guard are the Silver Saviors," Agatha stated. "With or without your confession, we will be raiding the slums to take them soon."

"Without my confession, you catch maybe a few of them at most," Barren retorted.

"Very well," Agatha said. She turned to leave, stopping only to speak to Ferny. "The Mayor wants him to sing."

Ferny grinned deliberately.

"As you wish, Sheriff. You will have your answers before the week is out," he said.

Agatha and the guards departed, leaving Barren alone with Ferny and his large assistant. Barren swallowed again, staring Ferny down. He still tried to show no fear, but it was becoming more difficult as time mercilessly marched him forwards. Ferny smiled at him genially.

"Good morning," he greeted with an amicability which only scared Barren.

Barren was uncertain if the chief interrogator was really expecting him to answer. His silence only amused the torturer.

"Your silence only prolongs the inevitable" Ferny said.

Then he walked over to the table of handheld tools and picked up a thick pair of pliers. At first, he turned it over in his hand, almost casually studying them.

"I see your mind, young man," Ferny said.

Barren narrowed his eyes.

"You know you cannot hold on indefinitely," the chief interrogator said. "You just want to stay strong long enough for your comrades to flee. I've seen it many times."

Ferny tossed the pliers from one hand to the other a few times.

"Sometimes it works. Sometimes not," Ferny said. "Right, Brutus?"

The hooded Brutus nodded again, pointeding at Ferny while looking at Barren as if to say, "He knows what he's talking about."

"Brutus and I have not been visited by such a sturdy, healthy young man like you in a long time," Ferny wasn't even looking at Barren anymore. He'd set the pliers down and picked up a handful of small metal pins each about the size of a screwdriver shaft and ending in needle-like points. "It would be almost a shame to damage a specimen that could be sold on the very same slave market you hate so much. Mayor Boyd would make a pretty oth off you."

"You're all heart, huh?" Barren attempted sarcasm.

"Playing off your fear with sarcasm will not rescue you," was Ferny's blunt answer.

Having decided on the sharp metal pins, he approached Barren again, making the rebel's breath quicken quite visible. Ferny smiled pleasantly again.

"You know," Ferny said conversationally. "Many interrogators think the key is to turn straight to the racks, or the breaking wheel, or the cutting and flaying, what have you. Painful for the subject, yes, but it ruins too much of the body too soon. The subject is likely to die too quickly."

Brutus nodded again, making hooting noises in agreement.

"No, no, no," Ferny wagged a finger at Barren. "That is no good when the objective is to loosen lips. The key is mastering the art of inflicting the maximum amounts of pain while damaging the minimal amount of flesh from session to session. The prisoner must last long enough to 'sing', as the Mayor wishes."

Barren knew the old man was trying to scare him into confession.

"Why bother telling me this?" Barren demanded.

Ferny shrugged.

"I tell all my guests what to expect," he answered.

"Don't do me any favors," Barren murmured.

"Oh, ho, I have no intention to!" Ferny said, laughing with a playful shrug. "But, it is not too late yet, sir. You can just confess right now and save me the trouble of having to spend whole afternoons cleaning my tools."

"You can freeze in Helheim!" Barren shouted at him.

Then he spit on Ferny. The older man just signed, took out a handkerchief, and wiped his face off.

"Very well," Ferny said.

Then with a flick of Ferny's arm, the air was forced from Barren in a painful grunting wheeze. Burning, freezing pain burst throughout his left side. Barren looked down and saw the old bastard had driven one of the metal pins into his torso right below the side of his left breast. A garbled cry was forced from Barren as a breath moved the offending object around, igniting him with renewed pain.

"Pressure points," Ferny said.

Then the old man plunged one into the side of Barren's lower abdomen, this time provoking a full scream from his victim. Soon, the screams were echoing through the building as Ferny stabbed more of the large pins into Barren's body, hitting especially sensitive nerve endings every time.


"By Meili, they're already here?"

The man pulled the reigns, bringing the two-horse team pulling his covered wagon to a stop. He had driven on a forest trail to a large clearing at the base of the Turgen Mountains where he was due to make a pickup. He had counted on waiting for the drop off, but instead found them waiting for him. They were around a pair of fires, huddled and exhausted. There were fifteen unarmed men, women, and children in shabby clothing being guarded by four armed guards with silver-beaded braided necklaces.

The leader was a man in red plate armor. He stood already facing the arriving driver with his hand to his sword while the other three guards also prepared to fight. The man driving the wagon then heard a rustling in the brush beside him. When he looked over, he was staring at a loaded crossbow aimed at his face. He recognized the redheaded woman who wielded it right away. The driver raised his arms.

"Hello, Claire," the driver said nervously.

"Al," Claire responded. "Move over."

"Claire, what…?" Al asked with visible confusion.

Claire set her jaw in a firm frown, stepping closer with a deadly gleam in her eyes.

"I said, 'move'," she repeated.

He complied, scooting over in the seat as she climbed up beside him and peered into the bed of the wagon. Seeing it empty apart from a few sacks, she climbed back down, with her bow on him and her finger to the trigger all the while. Back on the ground, Claire called over to the group:

"He's alone, Lucien. No one followed him and nobody's in the wagon."

Lucien's hand fell from his sword sheath as he relaxed. Then he motioned for Rusty and the other two men to stand down as well.

"Alright, stand down, Claire," Lucien ordered.

Al looked at them all in confusion as Claire lowered the bow and backed away.

"Well, wot was that about?" Al demanded. "'Tis just me. Ol' Al! Ya know me!"

"Forgive us, my friend," Lucien called. "But Gerebellum's Iron Lady and Mayor Boyd are making it hard for us these days. We had trouble passing through the mountains. We had to be sure."

Al looked around the camp, and really noticed for the first time how small the group was. Even from the edge of the clearing, he could see how scared and tired the refugees were. The children in particular stared at him anxiously.

Al snapped the reins, slowly driving over while Claire walked alongside him. Al was average height and build, dressed in brown trousers, a white long-sleeved shirt, a tan button-down vest, and a long dark gray hooded cloak. He was well-tanned from years of working out in the sun, showing early signs of middle age in his oval face with broad features, which ended at a long chin. His brown bushy mustache was partially gray. His remaining hair was along the back of his head just above ear level, but always short trimmed and neat.

"Everyone," Lucien said as Al pulled up. "This is our contact. His name is Al, and he runs an inn in the Camille Highlands. He'll hide you up there for a few days."

"Hide us?" one of the refugees asked, looking up skeptically. "In a town of a few hundred?"

"My brother owns a farm jus' outside town," Al answered. "We've been hidin' Lucien's runaways fer some time now."

After counting up the group quickly, Al gave Lucien a perplexed look.

"Jus' this? I reckoned there hadda be least fifty from wot the criers said about the caravan you rescued 'em from," Al asked.

Lucien hauntedly stared for a moment before answering.

"Like I said, we had trouble in the mountains. Sheriff Agatha's figured out we've been using a route through them, and she woke up the Wasp Giant nest trying to find us."

"They got the rest?" Al rasped in shock.

Lucien sighed, giving another thousand-year stare.

"I hope not," the red swordsman answered. "The wasps cut off at least half the group, who all fled. I have no idea if any of them made it, even with Bedelia and her granddaughters with them."

"Hlin preserve them!" Al uttered.

"I hope she did," Lucien empathetically answered.

"So wot's the play, den?" Al whispered. "You comin' along this time?"

Lucien shook his head.

"Nay, we all have to get back to Gerebellum," he said.

"Are ye mad?" Al gasped. "The wasps'll have the run of the place! You heard about the last time it 'appened!"

"That's why we must return," Lucien insisted. "Gerebellum's going to need it's Scarlet Swordsman more than ever."

Al skeptically screwed his mouth to the side.

"Well," he said with a shrug. "You might not like what ya see, but may the gods bless you, all the same."

He reached down, and Lucien gave him a forearm shake.

"Thank you. Just get these people to safety. They've been through a lot since we entered the mountain two nights ago," Lucien said.

"Will do," Al answered.

Lucien then backed away from the wagon.

"Alright, everyone," he told the refugees. "I am entrusting you to Mr. Al's care now. When you've rested up at his brother's farm, they will go over the details of your next step with you."

Al took his cue and stood up in the wagon seat, putting his hands firmly on his hips with his fingers stuffed into his belt.

"Right, then," Al said. "I know the road's been rough, but you can bear it a bit further. You, and you, grab those sacks from the back and carry 'em. Children, elderly, and wounded into the wagon. The rest of ya will hafta walk. Don't worry, the wagon's been blessed so if ya stay close, ya needn't worry about the things of the night. Come on, then!"

The remaining refugees gathered around the wagon, unloading the sacks and lifting the designated parties into its bed. Lucien, Claire, Rusty, and the other two huddled together.

"You sure 'bout this, Luce?" Rusty asked. It was easy to see he was scared. "We practically got chased outta the mountains, and you wanna go back through?"

"Not through," Lucien said. "Over."

He pointed southwest from their location.

"We take the Turgen Pass," Lucien explained. "We can break off from the main pass into the little ravine which exits the mountain range in the forest. With just the five of us, no one will notice when we slip back into the city."

"But, Lucien… traveling out in the open?" Claire asked.

Lucien shrugged.

"It's better than going back into the caves. Even if there are Wasp Giants about, there aren't nearly as many holes for them to crawl out of along the pass. As long as we're careful, we should be fine."

"But what about the city?" Rusty asked. "It could still be infested with bugs when we get there. 'Sides, the Sheriff's onto us, Luce. What can we even do now?"

"We have to get everyone out," was Claire's willful answer. "Everyone's expecting us to return and organize the evacuation. We can't just leave them hangin', Rusty. Especially not Headmistress Dolce and the orphans."

"We also need to help clean up the Sheriff's mess any way we can," Lucien added firmly. "The people didn't ask for this to be brought down on their heads, either."

Rusty was still very visibly scared. Lucien sighed and glanced at the departing wagon.

"Alright," he relented, and pointed at refugee group. "If anyone wants out, now's the time to do it. Claire?"

Claire gave Lucien an insulted look which made the swordsman want to apologize for even asking.

"If I wanted 'safe', Scarlet Swordsman, I wouldn't have started wearin' this," Claire said.

She grabbed the silver necklace about her neck and shook it, making the beads rattle. Lucien nodded and turned to Rusty and the other two men.

"Rusty? Taran? Joe?" he asked.

"Nay!" Taran shook his head. "I'll stick wit' ya."

"Better t' die at home," Joe put in.

Rusty remained silent even as the others all looked at him expectantly.

After a moment, Lucien said, "Well, Rusty, if you hurry, you can still check up with Al. The rest of us are going back. Come on, guys."

Then Lucien took Claire's hand in his and they began walking together southwest with Taran and Joe close behind. Rusty watched them leave as he tried to make up his mind. He nearly ran after Al's wagon, but something stopped him. He didn't know what it was inside him that wouldn't allow him to take that cowardly step. He just couldn't. Then, despite his fear, Rusty hurried to catch up with Lucien's group.

"Hey, guys, wait up!" he called.


"Lord Caelus shouldn't be long, young Master Janus. He's only just returned from his trip to Clairmont, so he should be quite unpreoccupied."

"Oh, no, do not rush him on my account. I have already waited half the week to see him. A little more will do no harm if father wishes to retire for the evening."

The family butler bowed.

"I will go and inquire on your behalf, sir," he said.

"Thank you, Artorius," Janus answered.

The butler then left Janus in the foyer, seated by a small table with a cup of tea prepared. Then Artorius stopped and gave Janus a sideways look.

"It really is good to see you again, young Master," he said. "It will warm your father's heart to see you still so healthy."

"Has father not been well?" Janus asked with full concern.

"In body, yes, young Master," Artorius's aged voice wisped back. "He sits at the window sometimes, looking at the mountains."

That last comment cut Janus deep. He couldn't speak. He could only watch Artorius climb the steps in the back of the entrance hall second floor balcony before leaving through a door. The ex-assassin noted how much he had aged.

"Time had not yet begun its insidious work on him when I left," Janus thought glumly.

Artorius still stood upright and had a crisp pace to match any soldier's before Janus left. Now his back hunched and he almost shuffled when he walked. The graying long hair he'd worn in a ponytail was gone from his aged, liver-spotted head, and his skin sagged. The decade had not been kind to him.

Thinking about it, Janus could not relax in the comfortable chair, the comfiest he'd sat in since his banishment. He had to wonder how House Iron Side had gotten by without its heir, how his father had gotten by, more specifically. Janus unconsciously reached for his belt out of habit, and felt naked when his hands failed to find the hilts of his knives. Right now, he had neither them nor his crossbow, as the guards would not let him through the gate with them, not even when he showed them the family crest on the ring he bore with the round, bronze emblem of House Ironside. A sword and a bow crossed under the image of a crown, symbolizing how the strength of House Iron Side would always be in service to the King of Crell Monferaigne.

"At least my family crest got me past the gate," Janus thought.

Nervously, Janus stood up and looked at himself in the large mirror behind him. Was he presentable? Janus swept his graying brown hair to at least try making it neat in preparation to see his father. He had tied it back in a ponytail as he always did, and he'd worn his best white long-sleeved button-down shirt and a new pair of black pants to go with the black boots he bought not too long before. By his own estimation, Janus was halfway presentable to a House Lord of Crell Monferaigne, and that was the best he could do with his dwindling savings from being a mercenary.

"I will need to take a job as soon," Janus thought. "Perhaps there will be some parole violators I can turn in. Those are always 'easy money', as Arngrim so eloquently puts it."

Then he heard the creak of a door. Before he even turned, he knew someone entering the upstairs foyer balcony and who it was. Yet he was not prepared. There at the top of the steps was his father, Lord Caelus, accompanied by a young redhaired woman he almost recognized, and Artorius loyally standing by. They were near enough to see each other's faces clearly, and the resemblance between father and son was unmistakable. The House Lord of Iron Side had passed his looks onto Janus, but not his temperament. Caelus was the very image of a man bearing the name Iron Side: hard and unrelenting in spirit, and always bearing a steely air to match. Janus had inherited his mother's gentler, unobtrusive nature.

Lord Caelus slowly descended a few steps of the stairwell, staring at Janus the whole way. He stopped, scrutinizing his son closely. Then he spoke, his own baritone much like his son's as well.

"Is it really you, Janus?" Caelus asked.

Janus swallowed his courage, and answered, "Yes, father. I heard of King Calvin's passing, so I returned. I needed to know you were safe."

Caelus seemed confused by that reply. He glanced up at the redheaded woman and Artorius before coming down the stairwell further.

"Why have you violated your former king's edict?" Caelus demanded. "You were banished, boy, and King Ferdinand has not acquitted you, or anyone else punished by his father. Anyone who sees you would be within their rights to report you and have you arrested."

Janus knew that was true, but it still hurt to hear.

"I know, father," Janus said. "I know the price to pay for this violation of my punishment, but I feared His Majesty Ferdinand would decide to cut his father's loose ends."

Caelus's brows raised with what might have been intrigue or amusement. Janus did not know.

"House Iron Side? A loose end?" Caelus muttered. Then he gave a scoffing laugh. "Because of your time spent stabbing the king's political rivals in the back? Ridiculous. I had nothing to do with your decision to give up the glory of the battlefield in favor of the coward's way."

Janus knew he should have expected that response, but his father's retort stabbed as deeply as any knife.

"Nothing to say in your own defense?" Caelus demanded.

"I did what my king asked of me," Janus said. "'Twas my error though which brought this dishonor on our house."

Janus grimaced as he recalled the night it all went wrong. The face of young Caspar of House Red Hawk staring up lifelessly from the floor. The pool of crimson forming around the boy. The trembling hand holding the knife which had spilt the boy's blood being his own.

"Janus? Janus!"

"Urk!" the ex-assassin jumped at the sound of his name.

Ripped from the painful memory, Janus looked at his father, whose eyes betrayed a fatherly concern despite the sternness of his face.

"Are you quite alright?" Caelus asked. "You just began staring off into space."

Janus hesitated to respond.

"Janus?" Caelus repeated.

"No… I mean, yes," the younger Iron Side answered. "I am alright. Quite alright…"

Janus swallowed as he mustered himself.

"Killing the young heir of the Red Hawk Duchy was not part of the intelligence office's plan. I am fully to blame for that," he confessed.

"In that case I wonder exactly what you were hoping to accomplish by returning," Caelus answered.

"To protect you if need be," Janus stated.

"Against His Majesty? In the very capital of the kingdom where he reigns as its sovereign ruler?" Caelus asked incredulously. "Were you planning on taking on the both the Intelligence Office and the Knights of Hod all by yourself?"

"Father, you must understand how far the Intelligence's influence reaches," Janus asserted. "They have eyes everywhere. They uncover secrets thought completely hidden and have men ready to act on the kingdom's behalf in every corner of the kingdom."

"You think me unaware of this fact?" Caelus dryly asked. "House Iron Side has no dirty little secrets to give them the excuse to send agents after anyone under this roof."

Then he leaned toward, casting an almost sinister air.

"Until now," Caelus said. "When you dared enter my house knowing there could be consequences for me just for speaking to you."

Janus stared back, shocked into silence. This prompted Caelus to continue.

"You crossed the Artolian Mountains again and the extent of your planning was to come to the Crell Monferaigne capital and spend your days knocking on my gate until you were let in?" Caelus derided him. "It never occurred to you that your presence here was a liability at best? I should report you just to protect those I have left. You are aware of this?"

Janus paused a little bit more, and then admitted, "Quite correct."

"You should not have returned," Caelus told him bluntly.

"How could I not?" Janus begged.

"By using your good sense," Caelus answered coldly. "Or rather, by not casting it aside. Were you recognized?"

Janus's hesitation made his father growl.

"You failed to return unknown? Who was it, then?" Caelus demanded.

"'Twas Captain Fahn," Janus admitted. "He pretended not to know me. I know not why."

Caelus then relaxed.

"A good man, Fahn is," he said. "Now, then. You should be leaving before your presence does anymore damage. I am willing to overlook this trespass of your old king's last edict to you, provided you do not come again."

Janus was unable to hide the hurt now. He opened his mouth, but was speechless at his father's callous words.

"Word of fatherly advice," Caelus took the initiative again. "Travel by sea is safer than crossing the mountains on foot these days. You should be able to find a decent ship to bear you back to the West at any of the harbor towns, but I recommend Florence. The ship captains who operate there actually impose standards on their crews. I imagine whatever fraudulent identification you come up with will be enough to get you on-board."

Janus silently absorbed what he was being told.

"Then you have my leave," Caelus began to turn away. "I would not linger."

Realizing his window of opportunity was closing, Janus quickly spoke up again, "Do you really trust King Ferdinand not to retaliate against me through you?"

Caelus stopped and studied his son a moment before shrugging.

"He's been on the throne two months now, boy," he said. "Not only has he not moved against House Iron Side, but he has accepted my heir into the knighthood. You know him. He's off training right now. Your cousin Gerald."

"Gerald?" Janus asked. "If he has come to live here, then…"

He looked up, towards the redheaded woman standing up on the stairs with their butler.

"Cousin Annette?" Janus asked.

She smiled down at him.

"Whatever happened to just calling me Ann?" she asked.

Janus smiled back and stepped closer to get a look at his younger cousin, as it was the first time he'd seen her in a decade. Then his father's hand shot out, barring him. Janus stared in shock as Caelus shoved him away.

"Uncle!" Annette cried from the stairs.

She had taken but a single step when Caelus shouted, "DO NOT!" up at her. She stopped and Caelus addressed his son again.

"Your business is with me," Caelus sternly told Janus. "And it has been concluded. You will be leaving now."

Janus pled, "Can I not…?"

"No," Caelus denied him. "I think it would be better if you conversed with as few people as possible before leaving."

Janus hesitated only a moment longer, but answering, "Very well. Forgive me. I have taken much of your time. I will away."

He stopped and exchanged a look with Annette before leaving. Then he was out the door, quickly making his way toward the stables to retrieve his mule and weapons. Or at least hoped to retrieve both the animal and his gear.

Caelus watched him leave through the window. Annette had excused herself, leaving him alone with Artorius loyally standing by. A sorrowfully look had set into the old lord's face he dared not show before.

"Was it really necessary to be so harsh with him, Milord?" Artorius asked.

"I was without choice," Caelus answered. "If they find out Janus returned, they will ask questions. Now I just hope that was enough to keep him away for his own sake."

"Very well, Milord," Artorius bowed and left his master alone.

Caelus looked out again, getting more one look at Janus before he entered the stables.

"May Hlin watch over you… my son," he somberly whispered.


"Well, at least they knew not to bother taking your saddle off, girl," Janus said.

He scratched the mule under her chin as he took the reins. He was also happy to note the guards had put his weapons in a sack in the corner, which was now tied to the mule's saddle.

"How about one more night in the city before we head for Port Florence, eh?" he asked.

The mule smacked her lips.

"I thought you would like that," Janus quipped.

He led his beast of burden from the stall and towards the exit, passing several horses which sniffed at the mule curiously as they passed. The stable boys opened the large heavy door for Janus as he approached. When he stepped outside, he found Annette waiting for him. Now that he saw her up close, he could really see how the decade had changed her from the child he remembered.

"Hey," she greeted.

Janus glanced towards the mansion.

"I believe father made his feelings about you speaking to me very clear," he said.

"Oh, don't give me that," Annette chided him, puffing out her cheeks. "I've been most disobedient to Uncle's wishes for years now."

"Perhaps he had a point, though," Janus began to walk past. "My presence here might endanger you all."

Annette just put her hands on her hips, and charged past her cousin before planting herself in his way.

"Ugh! What is up with the men of House Iron Side always putting on the strong man act?" she demanded.

"…Are you really that surprised?" Janus asked.

Then she jabbed Janus in the chest with her finger.

"No, but between Brother, Uncle, and now you, 'tis quite maddening!" she complained. "It wouldn't kill any of you to be honest with your feelings just once. You've not seen me in a decade and now you won't even tell me a little of what's happened to you out there in the big world?"

Janus stared at her thoughtfully a moment.

"I see you've lost the dimples your cheeks to have," he said. "I think I miss the freckles."

Annette seemed amused by that comment.

"Well, we all must grow up sometime, Janus," she said.

Janus began to smile.

"I found work as a mercenary. In Artolia," he started. "They never seem to have too much work for them there. I've even made friends in the trade I regularly work with."

Then he paused as his smile broadened.

"See, was that so hard?" Annette answered. "But have you been well? It cannot pay much."

"Enough," Janus answered. "I have never been wanting for money, especially not with the associates I fell in with."

"Please me about them. Even just a little," Annette asked.

"Only if you tell who put that ring on your finger," Janus pointed at her engagement band.

"I was wondering when you'd notice," Annette held up hand, running a finger lovingly over the simple gold band. "His name is Charles Ferrandson."

"Fat Charlie?" Janus asked, grinning.

Annette lightly punched him in the arm.

"Hey, now, no one calls him that anymore," she scolded. "He lost the weight and became a proper gentleman. Unlike you."

"You wound me," Janus replied.

"Now, about your friends," Annette said with a giggle.

Oh, yes," Janus grinned. "There is one fellow named Arngrim, who is… interesting, to say the least…"


As Janus trudged back down the path from the hill the which Iron Side Mansion stood, he walked alongside the mule, leading her by the reigns. Janus also kept himself wrapped in a dark brown cloak with the hood up. Although it was only a short walk to the Crell Monferaigne capital from the Iron Side Mansion, it was best if few saw his face.

He thought back on the conversation with his father as he walked. He had hated to bring up the topic of young Caspar of House Red Hawk, but it was the elephant in the room regarding his current circumstances. Guilt and regret flooded Janus's mind and he was taken back to that night again.

Janus stood in Duke Igthorne's study over a ten-year-old boy with a throat that had freshly been slashed from ear-to-ear. The sandy blonde child stared up with blank green eyes as his own blood pooled around him. Janus held the bloody knife in his trembling hand as he stared in horrified shock at what he himself had just done.

"No, this wasn't supposed to… What have I…? Oh, Freya, what have I done?" Janus had mumbled.

Not far away, the boy's father was slumped over his desk with a pair of crossbow bolts in his back. The drawers of his desk had been opened, as Janus had been instructed to find certain documents which were in the Duke's keeping. They were now safely tucked away in Janus's knapsack, not that the assassin cared about that right now.

Beside where the dead boy lied on the floor, the door hung open. Janus had finished collecting the secret documents and been about to slip out the window when the door suddenly opened. Young Caspar had entered his father's study without knocking. The instant the doorknob turned, Janus had moved swiftly on instinct and struck before he knew the identity of the witness, cutting their throat open before they could even react.

He and young Caspar's eyes had met as the boy stood as still as the masonry before his eyes rolled up and he fell to the floor. Janus couldn't move either. He could only stare as he realized what he'd done. The child had been able to clutch as his throat once before succumbing.

Janus slapped his palm to his head and grabbed up a handful of his rich brown hair as he tried to grapple with what he had just done. This wasn't supposed to be how it went. He was only supposed to eliminate the Duke and extract the documents because he had been vying for the throne. His mission had always been to eliminate the enemies of the throne. He had killed many to that end, but he had always shied away from jobs involving children. Janus's marks were always grown men and women who had thrown in their lot with an enemy of King Calvin's.

Such was the case with Duke Igthorne. There had been several suspicious 'accidents' which had nearly claimed the life of young Prince Ferdinand. The other intelligence officers had discovered the Duke was responsible for the attempts of the Prince's life, and was part of a conspiracy working against King Calvin to put Igthorne himself on the throne.

Instead of having Igthorne arrested, they had sent Janus to observe him until he learned the location of the documents they needed to arrest the whole conspiracy. Then Janus was to assassinate the Duke and recover the documents. Killing young Caspar, the king's favorite nephew, was never a part of the plan. Even though they had confirmed Caspar knew nothing of his father's schemes, the Intelligence Office still felt it was against their better judgment to spare him, but he had the favor of the king. The murder of the Duke in his own home was to be pinned on Villnore or Artolia.

"Young Master, are you there? Did you talk with your father go well?"

Janus heard the inquiring voice of House Red Hawk's family butler and he fled. His heart and mind were both thrown into such turmoil by his own evil deed that running away was all he could think of. All his training had gone far from his mind, leaving only a man with a guilty conscious running from his mistake. Janus had just leapt out the window into the branches of a nearby tree as the butler entered.

"Young Master, how many times must you told not to leave doors op… Young Master!"

Janus had reached the ground before the alarm went out. With the castle guards desperately chasing him down, Janus had never been quite sure how he escaped. Everything just became a blur after he leapt from the window of the Duke's study until he was before the king with the documents the following morning. Janus handed them over and confessed it was he who had slain Caspar. King Calvin had been enraged, and it was only due to the many years of House Iron Side's loyal service that he had not executed Janus. Instead, Janus was excommunicated from his home, country, and rank, never to return under pain of death.

An unhappy snort from the mule prompted Janus to half-consciously scratch the beast under her chin as he looked on. The east gate of the city was in sight. When he approached it, the guards advanced on him. Janus held up his Right of Passage parchment almost unconsciously. While one guard yanked his hood down, the other read the permitting paper before handing it back to him.

"Yeah, this is the same fellow we let through this morning," the guard who'd pulled his hood down said.

"Get on in," the other ordered.

He handed back Janus's Right of Passage. The former assassin uttered a quick quiet thanks and entered the city. Once inside the walls, again, Janus pulled the hood back up and started back towards the south end of the city to the Merry Belle Inn where he'd been staying. He was deep in thought as he strode on the side of the rode with the other passersby.

"Did I really come all this way for nothing?" he wondered. "Is it really alright to leave things off like this? More importantly, is father truly safe?"

He was torn. On one hand, Lord Caelus had made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing more to do with Janus. On the other, how much could King Ferdinand be trusted? After the disgracing of Janus, the status of House Iron Side had been put into dispute, even with his cousin Gerald replacing him within the ranks of the knights. Janus was far from satisfied with what he'd been told.

"I wonder if I might be able to get in touch with one of my old contacts. Perhaps I can yet learn how the young king really feels," he thought to himself.

As Janus turned the corner, he missed the man selling apples subtly watching him. The vender raised two specific types of apples above his head. One was oval-shaped with pale primrose skin and a pink flush. The other was more rounded and deep red and pale yellow striped.

"We have Åkerö, we have Early Joes! Åkerö! Early Joes!" the man shouted.

The seller kept calling out that particular combination of apples until another man approached from out of an alleyway. He tossed some oth into the vendor's money collecting basket.

"I'll two of each," the buyer said. "Two Åkerö, and two Early Joes. Five silver Baldurs about right?"

"More than right," the apple vender said. "Just perfect."

He handed the buyer his purchase, which were promptly dropped into a sack.

"I was thinkin' o' havin' these with honey," the buyer said. "Know where I might get some?"

"The vender for them kind o' wares just closed up for the day," the apple salesman answered. "But he's gone due south. You might catch him at the Merry Belle Inn. He leads a dark gray mule. You might find it in the stables."

"I'll see about catching up with him," the buyer answered.

Then he turned to follow Janus.

"I wouldn't rush," the apple vender warned him.

The intelligence agent who'd just bought the apples stopped to listen to his warning.

"Follow him too closely and he will know," the undercover street informant said.

Then the undercover informant grabbed another apple and went back to trying to sell his wares. The agent walked away, deciding to take a different route to the Merry Belle Inn. The agent kept his arms inside the gray cape he wore. He felt around his belt, checking his gear: twin long daggers and several small throwing knives. He was ready for an entanglement with the mark if necessary. Few noticed him on the way to the Merry Belle Inn as he looked like any other dark-haired man with a ponytail and a chin curtain beard but no mustache. Under the cape, he wore gray pants, long-sleeved black jacket, and a black cravat about his collar.

When he arrived, he saw no mule in the stables, so he entered the establishment and looked around. The main floor was a large room made of polished dark oak boards. Patrons sat at the fancy long tables. There were only a few round tables fit for parties of three to four. As always, the evening crowd that was just getting off work had come to drink themselves into forgetting the days' problems while a songstress sang a hymn with a gentle backup of fiddles and a flute:

"The time of blossom now comes with lust and great beauty,

Now sweet summer approaches when grass and crops grow,

The gentle sun awakens all that was dead.

It covers all in greenery and all is reborn…"

The agent moved through the dining area, observing and listening to patrons' the chatter. When he sat down, a waitress approached, already holding two trays in her arms. One of full mugs, the other of empty ones.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" she asked.

"Barley ale," the agent answered. "Watered down."

"One watered down Barley ale," she repeated. "On the way shortly, sir."

Left alone, the agent continued listening. In the next five minutes his drink arrived, and he began taking small, slow lips. Now, he just had to wait.


"There, signed and sealed. Now away with these tedious papers."

"Yes, Lord Magnus," the servant bowed and left with the stack of scrolls in his arms.

The lord remained at his writing desk in his office. It was a large, tidy space, but devoid of character aside from his large collection of books, a wall lined with cabinets full of private texts, and a single painting of a ship in a storm in the back lefthand corner. The office of Lord Magnus was a place of business, and nothing else.

Magnus himself was a lean older man with sharp features and slicked back graying dark hair. His pale skin was still smooth and almost tight, making his cheekbones and jawline especially pronounced. Magnus wore a white long-sleeved shirt with a tanned vest which was buttoned shut and gray dress pants and shoes. His hawklike gaze was disdainful as he looked on the paperwork he had yet to do.

Another man stood at the side of his desk, wearing similar formal business attire, but it was different shades of gray all over. He wore a floppy gray Boland hat with a black feather to match. As soon as the servant was gone, Magnus looked at the man.

"Now, about this report concerning Janus of Iron Side. He seen in town the other day?" Magnus asked cooly. "Have you learned anything else?"

"Ay, Milord," the Boland wearing assistant answered. "One of our undercover men caught sight of Janus heading south from the east end of town. He sent another agent to tail Janus and returned to report to me as soon as he was able. Janus has seen at the Merry Belle Inn, so I suppose our man will start there."

"Hmm…" Magnus hummed as he considered the best way to proceed.

"Shall I have the king informed?" his assistant asked.

Magnus looked at him, almost aghast.

"Are you mad?" he snapped, slamming his fist on the desk. "His Majesty would want to know why Janus has dared to return now."

"Would that really be so bad, Milord?" his assistant asked. "Janus did kill His Majesty's cousin and best friend, young Caspar. An immediate execution seems likely."

"A thorough interrogation conducted by that bothersome Chancellor Berit is more likely," Magnus countered. "You know His Majesty will not make the decision without consulting Berit first. The Chancellor will jump at the chance to have a former intelligence agent interrogated. If they can squeeze Janus for a full account of his activities under my command, it would ruin us."

Magnus smacked his desk with his palm.

"Ugh, if only I knew why Janus would choose to return now of all times," he muttered.

"Perhaps he's sorted out we set up him to kill both father and son that night?" his assistant suggested.

Magnus considered it. "…Revenge, then?"

Magnus had to admit it was plausible.

"If that is true, then we are both in real danger if Janus is even half the efficient killer he used to be," he thought. "This could be quite serious. I wonder if I should dare…"

He eyed a small stone statue sitting on a bookshelf. It was the image of a seductress, wearing a lowcut dress. The skirt split at the sides which gave an ample view of her thighs. The figurine was posed with her fingers beckoning coyly to whoever looked upon it.

"I wonder… if I should dare to call her," Magnus thought.


As soon as Janus entered the inn, he could tell something was wrong as he headed for his room. He felt their stares. One by one, people stopped what they were doing to watch him. The chatter dampened noticeably. The agent observed Janus maintain his casual walk through the dining area. Then Janus just briefly looked towards the area where he sat on before looking away again.

"Did he notice me?" the agent wondered. "That was a quick look. I didn't catch where his eye landed."

"They know I returned," Janus told himself. "Just grab your things and flee."

Then one of the barmaids saw him, and looked at him as though he were some loathsome thing that had skulked out from the wilderness. Janus ignored her even as she briskly went into the back, leaving the swinging kitchen doors flapping wildly. The banished knight didn't have time for this. He had to go somewhere he could confront the agent without causing a scene.

Janus turned left at the bar, but failed to escape before the innkeeper burst out from the back with the barmaid who'd fetched him.

"You!" the innkeeper called.

Janus kept walking, pretending he didn't hear. The innkeeper snarled, and then bellowed,

"Janus of the Iron Side!"

Janus sighed and stopped. All chatter in the room died. He did not look around. He didn't need to. Instead, Janus calmly turned toward the innkeeper.

"Yes?" he asked.

"We don't house deserters here," the innkeeper proclaimed.

Then he stooped, picking up something behind the bar. Janus's hand instinctively moved to a throwing knife on his belt. However, the innkeeper stood up holding Janus's bag.

"Hey!" the former assassin angrily shouted.

The innkeeper threw the pack into Janus's arms.

"Take your things and leave, or you will be thrown out," he commanded.

Janus stood there with his bag for a moment. The entire room seemed to hold its breath, and then released it when Janus simply shouldered it. Then he reached into his pocket, but the innkeeper held up his hand.

"Keep your scurvy money!" he said. "Just get out!"

The owner pointed at the door. Janus's arm fell to his side, and he said nothing again as he began to leave. He was about to pass a table when a thickly build man in brown clothes stood and blocked Janus's path, making the ex-assassin stop abruptly.

"Heeeey, youuu," the man slurred.

He was tall and very broad-shouldered, a hulking bear of a man with shaggy long, brown hair and a beard and mustache to match. From the way he swayed and the smell of his breath, Janus could tell he was drunk. Janus made no aggressive moves as he met the man's bloodshot gaze. The giant drunk squinted at him, ignoring his comrades' urges to just sit back down and let the former assassin pass without harassment.

"You…" the big man pointed an unsteady finger at Janus. "You really is… Janus o' the Iron… Iron…"

Janus maintained his silence as the drunk smiled as though he'd just come up with the most brilliant thing.

"Doc, sit yer ass down," one of his friends whispered.

"Yer Janus o' the Iron Pig Pin!" Doc jeered.

The other patrons at the table now looked worried, expecting some kind of retribution from Janus for that jab at his House. Janus instead eyed the agent across the room, who'd set his mug down and leaned forward in his seat as he watched.

Doc roughly grabbing Janus's shoulder with a transparently false smile, "Long time no see, buddy! So ya come back, huh?"

Doc fingers squeezed Janus's shoulder, hard. It hurt, but disgraced knight didn't even flinch, not even as Doc's face contorted into an angry sneer.

"But what're ya doin' here, anyway…?" Doc asked. "This is a place for worthy warriors. No room for cowards!"

He leaned close to Janus, breathing right in the face. Still no reaction, not even as Doc's breath burned his nostrils.

"Get lost!" Doc shouted.

Then he cut loose with an undercut to Janus's stomach. The ex-assassin wheezed and fell onto a knee, one hand clutching his stomach while the other clung to the drunkard's arm. Gasps, cheers, and murmurs erupted from the crowd. Doc yanked his arm loose from Janus's grasp.

"Don't touch me!" he bellowed.

Then Doc followed his first strike with a punch to the Janus's face. Janus was bore to his hands and knees as the drunk then shuffled back. His head swam and the cheers and laughs from around the bar barely even registered.

"Well, come on! Mr. Tough Assassin!" Doc mocked. "Get up, and fight like a man!"

Janus leaned back and sat on his knees, clutching his head before shaking it. He looked up at Doc and stood. Around them, the other patrons urged them, chanting, "Fight, fight, fight!" Then Janus just brushed past Doc. As he did, the entire inn exploded into laughs and shouts of mockery. He did his best to drown it out, but everywhere Janus looked, there was another face screaming something horrible at him.

"Hah! That coward!" Doc turned and watched Janus walk away. "He ran away with his tail between his legs! Watch the dirty little Intelligence Office Cloak run away!"

"I did not run away from my duty," Janus thought defiantly.

He did not look back. There was no point in arguing with these people. As soon as he had reached the door, someone elbowed him from behind, sending his stumbling into the street. He collided with a child that had stopped by the entrance. The boy cried out as he lost balance and started to fall, but Janus was quick to recover and grabbed him around the upper arms to steady him.

Then the boy turned, revealing a brown-haired youth with freckles and greenish-blue eyes. He was still shaken from his near tumble, but had not been hurt, which Janus was happy to see.

"I'm sorry, was I in the way?" the boy asked.

Janus wordlessly stood and patted the boy on the head before going on his way, still clutching his stomach in pain. The child watched him go, noting how sad and hurt the stranger looked.

Inside, the inn patrons were having such a merry laugh at the 'justice' Doc had dished out to Janus. None noticed the Intelligence Office agent slip out to follow the disgraced knight.


Outside, Janus slipped into a nearby alley at his earliest opportunity. He had just rounded the corner before the agent stepped out. He knew the man from the Intelligence Office would not be far behind him, so he ignored the pain and quickened pace. He fished something from his pockets as he neared where the alley intersected with another backstreet.

The agent visually canvassed the area. He first looked to the stables and saw the mule still in her stall. Then he spotted the alley and gave chase. Keeping his hands under his cape, he drew his daggers before entering. Janus was already out of sight, so the agent quietly ran through.

There were a couple of doors along the alley, but they were both closed. Janus had obviously not gone straight, so the agent assumed he had turned aside where the alleys intersected. The agent cautiously paused at the corner, first making sure he wasn't about to run into the line of fire before stepping forward. Janus was nowhere in sight still, but there were a couple more doors to try down on the street level on either side. On the right, an iron staircase up the side of one of the buildings led to a second-floor door. A woman was carrying her groceries up those stairs.

The agent calculated the chances that Janus had either already fled the alleys or picked the locks to disappear into the buildings. Deciding neither was likely, he glanced up at the woman. She had reached the door, and then opened it without unlocking it.

"There!" the agent thought.

Janus must have hidden in that woman's apartment. He might even be in league with her. The agent began to follow her, already planning on how he would make her death look like an accident or the result of burglary. He was stopped by the creaking of a door behind him.

"Hands up where I can see them," Janus ordered.

The agent looked behind using his peripherals and slowly did as he was told, while still holding the daggers. Janus had emerged from one of the ground floor doors down the other way and had his crossbow trained on the agent. The intelligence officer also noted that there wasn't even a tremble or a sign of dizziness in Janus.

"Drop the daggers," Janus calmly ordered.

Clank! They lightly bounced off the stones.

"Now, face me, slowly, and come here," Janus told him.

The agent did as he was told, spreading his arms apart to show off the weapons on his belt, as he knew Janus would be wanting to see them. Janus only spared them a fleeting glance before his eyes moved to the cuffs of the agent's jacket and to his boots. The weapons were too well-hidden to be seen, but Janus knew they'd be there.

"You are holding the bow remarkably well for a man who took a punch to the gut and the face like that," the agent said.

"I did receive the same training as you," Janus answered plainly.

"Indeed," the agent answered. "Stole a spare key to that door earlier this week, did you?"

"I will be asking the questions," Janus firmly said.

"Thought so," the agent smirked.

"When did Intelligence discover my return?" Janus asked.

The agent shrugged.

"No idea. I was just ordered to find you," he said.

"Then why ready yourself to fight me?"

The agent grinned back. "Who'd want to pass on the chance to drag your carcass in?"

"A man who works for something bigger than himself," Janus answered.

"Oh, if you're going to lecture me, I'd rather you just pull the trigger," the agent shot back.

"Don't tempt me," Janus threatened. Then he asked, "What is the Intelligence's intentions regarding House Iron Side?"

The agent again shrugged, igniting a rage within Janus.

"Don't lie to me!" Janus ordered. "You will tell me what I want to know!"

Then the agent kicked something at him from the ground.

Twang! Instead of trying to dodge, Janus pulled the trigger. The wadded piece of paper bounced harmlessly off him.

The bolt pierced through the agent's heart, making the man fall back a step as he clutched at it with both hands. He wheezed and looked at Janus with eyes full of malice before raising his arm to try throwing a knife at Janus, but the former assassin had charged in the instant he pulled the trigger. Janus swung his crossbow like a club, striking his opponent's hand with enough force to break it and knock the knife from his fingers. Then Janus brought the weapon back around, clobbering the agent in his right temple, killing him instantly from head trauma.

Janus stared down at him.

"Your were a foolhardy one," he told the dead man. "There is something I must do still before I can let anyone kill me."


"I'd follow any of the King's orders," the baritone voice of a young man proclaimed confidently. "For this, I will accept your offer. The battlefield is one thing, but if one of Crell Monferaigne's enemies lie within, they must be dealt with, too."

The young man's words and the feelings of idealistic conviction which spurred them filled Lenneth's mind as she listened to the echoing human thoughts in her meditation.

"I'm so proud of you, my son… you've been knighted!" a much older man with a similar deep voice excited celebrated. "Made part of the king's inner circle, even, at such a young age! You are truly the shine upon House Iron Side's emblem, my boy."

"…Just doing my duty, father," the same young man from before said.

Then the youth's father spoke again, but at a later date. This time he was angry, "Becoming a Cloak for Intelligence Office? Exchanging the sword and bow for a dagger! This is the work of cowards, Janus! You flee the ranks of the Knighthood to be some assassin?"

"I am not running from my duty, father!" the young man argued. "The King himself asked this of me!"

A child called out, "Father, are you-hurkk!"

The boy's words were cut off, replaced with him gagging and choking on something moist before a loud thud echoed in Lenneth's mind.

"No," the young man murmured in shocked anguish. "This wasn't supposed to… What have I…? Oh, Freya, what have I done?"

Then a new voice spoke up, jeering, "Hah! That coward! He ran away with his tail between his legs! Watch the dirty little Intelligence Office Cloak run away!"

Then a crowd joined in the laughing and mockery of the young man. That was where it ended, and the voices then faded altogether. Lenneth opened her eyes and her gaze turned due South from their current position.

"Hmm… A patriotic youth dove deep, perhaps too deep, into the politics of his nation," Lenneth thought bittersweetly. "Time to fetch my einherjar and find this troubled new soul."

As she first began to drop, the einherjar were but tiny dots moving about in the grassy glade below. When Lenneth had fallen close enough to see them clearly, she noted they were still sparing. She slowed down before landing, sitting in a nearby tree to observe them a moment. Since they were odd numbered again with the loss of Llewelyn, one-vs-one matches meant the fifth person sat out. At the moment, it was Belenus, who was taking his turn overseeing the bouts.

Arngrim had been paired off with Nanami. The scarred mercenary roared as he swung Dáinsleif, but it bounced harmlessly off the shrine girl's force field. While she cast with the pearly wand, she held out her free hand, expanding her protective barrier and pushing Arngrim away.

"Hey, what the…?" he protested and rammed against the growing wall.

Then as Arngrim hurled himself forward, shoulder-first, Nanami lowered it. Arngrim grunted in surprise when he connected with nothing and instead lost his balance. He fell onto his hands. Nanami grinned impishly as she trained the wand on him.

"Shit!" Arngrim growled.

He had just gotten to his feet when Nanami unleashed "Crystallize," forming a sheet of ice on the ground which snared his feet.

"What is this?" the large warrior shouted as he desperately began to pull his feet free of the frozen water. He looked around for his sword. "Where… Dain…?"

Then he spotted his claymore inside the sheet of ice. Nanami suppressed a giggle and then trained her wand on him again.

"Now," she declared triumphantly. "I still have some of the spell left uncast. I needn't cast another. Do you wield?"

Arngrim glared back at her, but after a moment, his shoulders sagged, and he rolled his eyes. He reached for his felt as though to rest his hands on it, but Nanami saw his fingers begin to wrap around the throwing knife he always kept on it.

"Don't even think it!" Nanami shouted. She jabbed the Holy Wand forward a little more. "I see that knife. I'm not bluffing. I have enough of a charge left to freeze you in a block of ice! Hands above you head!"

Arngrim reluctantly raised his hands with a sigh. Then he grinned, looking almost impressed.

"Alright, alright, you beat me," he said. "I wield."

Nanami beamed and did a little jump as she clapped her hands.

"I won? Oh, goodness, I won!" she cried excitedly.

She turned to Belenus.

"Did you see?" she cried.

Belenus smiled and clapped as well.

"Indeed, most impressive," he said. "Well won. And I see you paid attention to his arsenal as well."

Then the noble glanced over toward Lawfer and Jelanda. "If only your fellow mage could internalize that lesson."

"Do not start," Jelanda unhappily called over.

She was presently being held from behind by Lawfer who had one of her arms twisted behind her back and a knife to her throat. His halberd lied on the ground off to the side after being knocked from his hands.

"Do you wield?" Lawfer asked.

Jelanda sighed before grumpily muttering, "Like I have a choice. Yes, I wield, Sir Knight."

Belenus and Nanami quickly turned away, mutually deciding that openly having a laugh at the girl's expense would just worsen her demeanor. Meanwhile, Arngrim was still frozen in place. He stood with his arms crossed, angrily tapping one of his fingers.

"Yeah, yeah, fun all around," Arngrim grumbled. "Now can ya unfreeze me? I'm dyin' of boredom over here."

"Oh, right! I'm so sorry!" Nanami cried.

She dispelled the remaining freezing energy and quickly worked up a smell to melt the ice. When she was finished, she aimed the Holy Wand on the ice sheet again.

"Thowen!"

As Nanami cast, the air around the tip of her wand warped and bobbled like a mirage-inducing atmospheric refraction. The air filled with steam as the ice melted in seconds freeing Arngrim and Dáinsleif, making the area muggy. Arngrim picked up his sword, shook off the excess water before returning it to its sheath.

"Now," Belenus said with a clap of his hands. "Gather around, with the matches concluded, 'tis time for re-arrange participants."

"That will have to wait."

Everyone looked towards Lenneth as she hovered down.

"I have sensed a Heroic Spirit soon to take his leave of mortal life," she announced. "Our quarry returns us to Crell Monferaigne. He will expire by nightfall.

"A man this time, then, Lady Valkyrie?" Nanami asked.

Lenneth nodded, "Indeed."

"What you can tell us about him, Lady Valkyrie?" Jelanda asked.

"Not much," Lenneth answered. "The echoes I hear from the meditations are always a handful of scattered moments across the person's lifetime, with some yet to pass. I only know the man was knighted at some point, but gave it up to be an assassin for his king. I heard his father's celebration for the former, and condemnation for the latter. Janus, this soul is named."

Arngrim and Lawfer exchanged looks, both having the same notion.

"Assassin? Hmm," Belenus stroked his chin thoughtfully. "This may be Fate's way of filling the void left by Llewelyn."

"This Janus character…" Lawfer inquired. "Did he have a deep, smooth voice with just a hint of coarseness in it?"

Lenneth eyed Lawfer in with mild astonishment.

"Why yes, that describes his voice exactly. In the echoes, he had a quiet, unassuming manner," she answered. "Do you know him?"

Lawfer looked at Arngrim, who stared back, again thinking the same thing.

"Yeah, we just might," Arngrim said.

"I suppose we will find out tonight," Lawfer said.

"That we shall," the Valkyrie answered.

Jelanda thought back on her encounters with Arngrim back when they were both alive.

"This Janus, was he with you often?" she asked Arngrim and Lawfer.

"Yeah, at least when on the job," the scarred warrior answered. "Captain Lawson hired him a lot, too, but he was real good at standing off to the side, being all inconspicuous-like. Doubt you ever even noticed him."

"He was there when your father awarded Arngrim," Lawfer added.

Jelanda's face went pale, remembering her outburst and subsequent actions both in the castle, at Arngrim's home, and at the Yamatoese restaurant.

"Ah… ha-ha. How very interesting," Jelanda's voice was tight and intentionally low as she shrank down in embarrassment.

Lenneth and Belenus raised brows as they watched the ex-princess cringe.


"Avi, do a walkthrough, yourself, before you leave for the evening. Make sure every window and door is locked."

"Yes, Milord," the servant bowed and departed.

Now alone, the lord picked up his briefcase and began turning off the oil lamps in his office. A scratching sound made him pause. He looked towards the window, but only saw a pair of birds either fighting or mating. So, he turned off the last lamp and left, closing his office door behind him.

As soon as the office was dark, Janus lifted his head to peer in through the lord's office window. He clung to the side of Intelligence HQ by two tenuous footholds and a pair of handheld climbing picks which were jammed into the narrow spaces between the stone which made up the structure. He was relieved to see this second story office empty. His backpack hung from his right shoulder and a small cage containing a panicking rat hung from the pack.

Janus yanked one of the picks free and hooked it around one of the iron bars outside the office window's glass. He pulled himself onto the windowsill and took a short break. He didn't linger long. As soon as he had his breath back, he kept climbing, jamming the picks between the blocks, pulling himself upwards.

"One more story to go. Just like old times," he muttered.

When he reached roof battlement, Janus paused and listened. The roof over the central part of the building was a big square of open space. In the middle was the roof access, a small stone structure the size of a shack with an iron door. It was just big enough for someone to enter and go down the steps to the third floor.

Janus heard nothing and dared a peak over the top before sinking down again because a guard approached. The heavy clanking of the guard's armor grew louder and then stopped somewhere in the middle. Janus's muscles were beginning to feel the burn again. As soon as he heard the guard open the roof access, Janus pulled himself up and saw the door swing shut. Janus crawled through the square gap of the battlement, falling onto his hands and knees. The rat in the cage squeaked, rocking its confinement back and forth.

"'Twas no joy for me, neither, friend," Janus told it.

With tired limbs, he stood and crouch walked to the door. He flattened himself against it and listened. The guard had already gone down to the third floor. So, Janus crouched beside the door and took out his lockpicks. Examining the lock, he saw four small holes in the cardinal directions around it. Janus inserted the lockpicks at angles. On cue, the lock clicked, and four needles sprang from the holes.

"Poison coated," Janus realized.

Now he had to be careful with how his hands moved as he picked the lock with them out. After working it a few minutes, he heard a more satisfying click. The needles retracted as the door unlocked. Janus turned the knob and quickly stepped through, shutting it behind him. It relocked automatically and he heard the trap reset as well. Janus went down the steps to the third floor. He stopped on the last step and cautiously peered out. No guards at the moment. This area was called the Wayfarer's Department, which handled international intelligence. The department Janus sought was Homeland Security, down on the second floor.

Janus unshouldered his pack and fished something out. It resembled eyepiece segment of a nautical spyglass, a metal tube with a lens at each end. Janus put it to his eye and looked around with it.

"Eye of Heaven, work your magic," he thought.

The doorknobs of every office glowed a rich yellow, indicating traps or enchantments. Something glowed red down the hall on the opposite wall to his right, mounted over a descending stairwell entrance.

"Wall-mounted Eye-Spy," Janus realized.

A giant eyeball was attached directly into the masonry via the retinal veins, watching for anything. Janus knew if it saw him, it'd shriek, alerting every guard in the building. Janus slipped out into the hall while the eye-spy wasn't looking and hid with his back to a door on the opposing wall, hiding under the frame. He held his pack close to his side. He was practically beside the Eye-Spy now.

Janus looked down at the rat in its cage.

"Your turn," he told it.

He unhooked the rat's cage from his pack. Once the eye-spy was looking away again, Janus opened the cage. The rat leapt out, and Janus lightly kicked it in the direction of the eye-spy. The rodent rolled over the ground, but quickly righted itself and scurried away from Janus at full speed. The eye-spy snapped around, spotting the rat, and watched it as ran down the hall away from its captor. While the abominable eye monster was momentarily distracted, Janus silently crept along the wall and slipped right under it onto the stairwell. Janus stopped on the last step here as well.

"If he'd not moved offices, Lord Magnus's should on the other end of this floor," Janus thought. "Now to get there."


A man leaned on a streetlamp at a corner with a lit cigar in his mouth, under its oil-fueled light which flickered as moths swarmed. He was dressed in slightly tattered brown pants a bit too big for his slender frame, a dull green shirt, a brown open vest, and a gray floppy brimmed hat which was tilted to cover his face. His hands were nonchalantly shoved into his pockets as he stood, waiting.

The man looked up at the sound of a carriage coming nearer. A few minutes passed before a black horse-drawn coach arrived. It bore a symbol resembling an hourglass composed of two triangles meeting at their pointed ends vertically in a circle. The man flicked away from his cigar and stood. When it stopped in front of him, the coachman stepped down and got the door for him.

"Obliged," the man muttered as he climbed in.

The door shut behind the man and they were soon moving again. The man in shabby clothes sat across from Lord Magnus and his assistant. Magnus leaned on a dark oak cane.

"Report," Magnus demanded. "Has Janus been found?"

"Yes," the man answered grimly. "But Janus knows we're onto him. The agent we sent to follow him earlier was found dead in an alley about a block from the Merry Belle Inn. We've not been able to locate Janus since."

"What?!" Magnus cried.

Both the informant and his assistant flinched. Magnus sat there, gripping his cane tightly in his hands, wringing it furiously. Growls intermixed with his heavy breathing.

"Forgive me, Milord," the street informant begged. "We'll double our efforts. I'll…"

"Oh, do shut up," Magnus rasped.

Then he leaned his head out the window.

"Driver, we are stopping here," Magnus shouted.

"Yes, Milord," the coachman answered.

The coach was already slowing down when Magnus sat again. Both the informant and Magnus's assistant stared with a bit of fear. However, Magnus said nothing until they stopped. The carriage shifted around as the coachman jumped down to get the door. Magnus stood as soon as it opened.

"Follow," he ordered both men.

Then Magnus climbed out first.

"Thank you, driver," he said as he stepped out onto the street.

His assistant and the informant followed and stood shoulder to shoulder behind their mutual employer. Magnus only spared them a sideways glance over his shoulder.

"You, informer. Get back to work. Rally every agent and watchman you can," Magnus ordered. "I want Janus found before dawn. Go."

"Yes, Milord," the informant said with a bow.

Then he departed for the shadows.

"And you," Magnus addressed his assistant.

"Yes, Lord Magnus."

"Stay with the coach. I will return shortly," Magnus told them.

Both the driver and his assistant looked back in shock. The lowborn neighborhood they were in had not been well-maintained and the only other people out on the street seemed unsavory. There was also the distinct smell of mold and an almost rotting stench in the air.

"Alone, Milord?" his assistant astonishedly asked.

"Yes," Magnus sternly repeated. He looked at both men with dangerous eyes. "If I catch you following me, there will be far more than just Hel to pay. I will return shortly. There is a matter I will see to personally, instead of leaving it to that idiot."

The driver and servant both gulped.

"Yes, Milord. Of course," was the assistant's scared, quite answer.

Magnus walked into the darkness. As soon as he was shrouded in the shadows, the aging lord took something out from his pocket. It was like Janus's Eye of Heaven. When Magnus put it to his eye, he saw every living person in the area as red figures glowing in the dark. As soon as he spotted an empty avenue, he turned off the road and walked with quick strides until he was a decent way along. Then he stopped and used the eye-piece again. Satisfied there were no people around, he pocketed it. He was in near total black, perfect of his purposes.

He raised his cane and knocked it against the ground three times and then held it level over his head in both hands as his eyed closed in concentration. Magnus began the chant, starting in a low voice and gradually raising it,

"I am he who hath entrusted his soul to the Mistress of the Condemned. Ye know me! Magnus of House Longborrow! With blood and death, it was engraved on our very souls when we accepted the brand of Hel upon us. By her seal, our pact was made. I call thee now to come before me! Come, Genevieve!"

A gust of wind blew through the alleyway, bringing a deathly chill. The air then grew heavy, and Magnus felt it the primal sensation of alarm living creatures experience when they know eyes are upon them in the dark. The hairs on his body stood on end and a chill went down his spine before settling in his chest. His base survival instincts told him to flee, for he was in danger, but he did not move. He knew this feeling meant she had come. Magnus watched the world go from almost black to actual pitch black.

From the impenetrable void of nothing around him, a sultry, almost playful voice whispered in his ear, "You rang?"

Magnus jerked away and saw two red orbs unrelentingly staring at him amid the thick blackness.

"Good evening, Genevieve," he greeted.

"Is it?" she asked. Then her eyes faded, leaving Magnus with nothing to visually gravitate to the dark. "Why have you called me, Magnus?"

"Someone is threatening our arrangement," he explained while nervously looked around to find her again. "Janus of House Iron Side. He was…"

Magnus stopped and looked around cautiously, although he could see nothing.

"Speak freely, no one can hear you inside my barrier," she said.

He was not at all comforted by that. Her red eyes then gleamed again from the dark, far off to one side.

Magnus continued, "Janus of House Iron Side has returned. I know not why, but he is the knight our colleagues and I set up to take the fall for deposing Duke Igthorne and removing his son from the line of succession."

"Ah, yes, your cabal's power play within the king's court," Genevieve absently commented.

"'Twas of benefit to you, too, my dear," Magnus reminded her.

"Nominally," she did not even try to hide the condescension in her voice.

Magnus's eye twitched in irritation despite his fear. Her glowing stare suddenly became a sea of red eyes all looking at him from everywhere in the dark.

The human lord mustered his courage to speak again. "I suspect he may have uncovered the truth somehow and is back to take his revenge. If he is able to find any tangible evidence of our activities, we stand to lose everything."

"No, Magnus, you stand to lose everything," Genevieve corrected him. "I would lose but one string in my web of influence. One that can be rewoven."

Magnus was desperate now, but he tried not to show it.

"It would still put you behind schedule," he stated. "Odin's battle maiden will find you, sooner or later. If she does before your preparations are complete, it could be disaster for you, too."

"Hmm… You make a good point," Genevieve already casually hummed. "Very well. I will find your little rat."

"Oh!" Magnus released the breath he was holding. "Thank you, Gene…"

Then like that, the world returned to normal and the sensation of being a hunted animal faded. Magnus could breathe freely again, in the dark alleyway again. He saw the dim lamplight shine at one end and followed it back out to his coach. Hopefully, Genevieve would take this very real threat to their mutual interests seriously.


Janus stood motionless with his back to the door of Magnus's office. He could hear a guard passing through the hall outside.

"That was too close," Janus thought.

He unconsciously held his breath when the guard came to Magnus's office and released it when they passed by. He hadn't been seen. Janus took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead and face. Then he looked across the room at the desk and file cabinets lined behind it.

Janus walked past the desk and approached the cabinets first, knowing for certain they would contain some useful information. If there was anyplace to find out if House Iron Side was in the king's sights, it was somewhere in Magnus's keeping. He paused fleetingly when he noticed a painting of a ship in a storm in the back left corner of the room, the only decoration.

It was out of place in the keeping of a man who never cared for such things. Janus made himself turn away. He lit one of the wall-mounted oil lamps and got on his knees to examine the file cabinet locks. The locks themselves were fashioned into sideways mouths with the keyhole between their slightly opened lips. He saw slight movement as though they were breathing.

"Screamers," Janus muttered.

He set his pack down and reached into a small side pocket, pulling out a dark brown bottle marked "Azote Acid". In his other hand, he held up an iron syringe. Janus uncorked the bottle and filled the medical tool with the dangerous chemical. When he lifted the needle from the bottle he let the excess liquid drip off before turning it on one of the locks.

Janus carefully squeezed out the acid out onto the lips of the second file drawer Screamer. Its lips drew back as though to belt out an agonized cry, but all it did was whimper before going still and leaving the lock exposed. Janus took out his lockpicks again and began work on the mechanism.

Click.

Janus pulled the drawer out and began combing through the files. He'd leafed through half of them before he found one with the appropriate label. For a moment, his chest tightened as he beheld the House Iron Side family emblem upon the case file, but then he saw his name on it as well. He opened and read it.

"This is the case file they made when I was banished," Janus realized.

As he looked through it, he saw it had only been taken out of Archives to be updated because of his return. He looked through it a second time, searching for signs of a hidden code. When he found none, Janus set the file aside and continued to dig through the drawer until he reached the back.

"Nothing. Huh," he thought with an immense sense of relief.

Janus rested his head on the top of the drawer's frame. King Ferdinand was not targeting his family after all.

"Father was right," he thought.

With nothing more to do, he returned his case file to its original place and then shut the drawer. The Screamer would reset in an hour, and no one would ever know he was there. Grabbing his pack, Janus prepared to leave. Then he laid eyes on the painting again. It was off to the side in the far back corner as though to hide something.

"Just what are you concealing, Magnus?" Janus wondered.

Janus approached the painting, looking at it more closely. He lifted one side of the frame from the wall slightly and slid one of his knives behind it to carefully search around. After finding no mechanism for a trap or alarm, he did the same for the other side and the bottom. Janus then put the knife away and grabbed the painting by the sides and lifted it slightly from the anchored hooks which held it. He listened carefully for the sound of metal sliding against metal as he lifted the frame. When he didn't, he knew the hooks were safe, too, and removed the portrait from the wall.

For a moment, he was disappointed. It was just solid wall behind the painting. Janus nearly put it back before he noticed the stone blocks behind the painting looked newer than the rest. To be certain his eye wasn't just playing tricks on him, Janus ran a hand over the blocks and then the ones surrounding them.

"These two blocks are newer," he realized.

Janus quickly set the painting down on Magnus's desk before putting his ear to the wall and rapping on the blocks with his knuckles.

"Hollow," Janus grinned.

His eyes fell on the hooks which had held the painting. He tried pushing and pulling them individually, getting no results. So, he grabbed them both and pushed on them at the same time. When that still didn't work, he pulled them upwards.

Click! They gave away and the blocks swung open like window shutters, revealing they were only a couple inches thick. Inside the compartment was a leather-bound tome. Janus took it out and laid it out on the desk. He grabbed a pair of protective gloves from his pack before he opened the worn cover. Janus looked close at the outer edges of the pages, and spotted a nearly faded green stain in the lower corner of each page.

"Poisoned," he realized. "You clever bastard, Magnus."

Anyone who wetted their fingertips to turn these pages more easily would poison themselves. With that in mind, he turned the page, making conscious movements as he began reading.


At an empty hallway of Intelligence HQ, a black mist filled a window until it blotted out the view. Then it began filtering into the structure under the bottom pane before collecting as a mass in the middle of the floor. Then it scattered, revealing a figure in a black cloak. Long red hair hung from the hood's opening. The woman raised her head. If anyone saw her, they'd see her deathly pale skin with a slightly earthy tone and the gleaming crimson eyes. Her lips were an unnaturally dark pink, almost purple. A fang poked out from her upper lip. She would have been considered a real beauty if not for the inhuman features.

The woman craned her head forward and began sniffing the air like a hound hunting its prey. She almost snorted as she detected something. Her head whipped to the side, looking down the hall. The redhead then ducked low, and sucked in a long breath through her nose, gradually pulling back up, allowing herself to study the scent she had caught.

"A stranger has entered," she thought. "And passed right through here within the last half-hour. Not a prisoner for interrogation, then."

She sniffed around some more.

"Recently around a horse or donkey… the musty smell of the city, sweat, and a… rat?" she tilted her head almost confused by that last one.

"Oh well," she decided. "I've found House Iron Side's prodigal son."

Genevieve then smiled to herself, "My hunch was right after all."


"Behold, Crell Monferaigne," Belenus said with a sweeping motion.

The capital of the nation was below them. Nanami's eyes lit up as she looked around at the city far below with its streetlamps like candles dotting the city streets. It was almost like looking at a whole miniature of the city from where they were.

"Ooh!" Nanami was awe. "I've never seen a city quite like this before. Even Gerebellum from above wasn't so impressive."

Lawfer found himself smiling at her giddiness.

"It definitely puts Artolia to shame," he concurred.

"Focus," Lenneth told them. "We are not here on vacation."

She looked across at Nanami and Lawfer in the circle their group formed as they overlooked the capital. Nanami giggled contritely, covering her mouth with one of her long flowing sleeves.

"Sorry," she said.

Lenneth closed her eyes to concentrate as she tried to pinpoint her next einherjar from the myriad souls dwelling the city below.

"There," she zeroed in on his string of fate.

"He is in the heart of the city," she said.

Lenneth was about to say something else when she felt a demonically evil presence near him and closing in. The Valkyrie's eyes opened, full of concern.

"His doom approaches rapidly," she breathlessly reported.


"I ought to have known…" Janus muttered to himself.

He was currently flipping between the early pages. He had already discovered the existence of several off-the-book jobs that had been conducted under Magnus's supervision. The abduction of a viscount's children to wring trade information out of him, putting people loyal to himself under the employ of other lords and officers as servants, among other things. There were also some of Magnus's personal connections within the king's court and dirt he had on them. They called themselves The Inner Circle. It was clear Magnus was intent on spreading his influence in the politics of Crell Monferaigne.

"This will be useful in keeping Magnus in line, at the very least," Janus concluded.

If Magnus made a move on House Iron Side, whatever condemning information lied within those pages would mysteriously find their way directly to King Ferdinand's desk.

"First things first," Janus mumbled.

He would have a chance to go over this book fully later. For now, Janus had to get out undetected. He slipped Magnus's private journal into his pack before grabbing the painting. After closing the compartment, he hung it back on its hooks. That would buy him at least a little time before the theft was discovered.

Janus absently rubbed his hands as the room started to become chillier. He only noticed when he reached to douse the oil lamp. Before he even touched it, the world began to darken around him. Janus looked around the room, noticing the inexplicable shadow growing around him as the increasingly frosty air bit at his face and hands. Then he breathed out a visible wisp of fog. In the corner of his remaining eye, Janus saw a black figure standing at the door of the office, surrounded by black mist. Janus drew his crossbow with swift action.

"What? How?" his mind reeled. "The door never…"

He became even more confused when he realized it wasn't one of the guards. The person wore a black cloak and was surrounded by black mist. Their head was bowed with the hood entirely hiding their face and their arms were covered by long sleeves hung back past their hands.

Something in Janus felt very afraid. He just knew the person in front of him was wrong, somehow. His fight and flight had been triggered, and for the first time since he was a child, flight fought hard for dominance as he aimed his bow at this new enemy. Janus swallowed his courage as his finger tightened around the trigger of his crossbow.

"Who are you?" Janus demanded.

Instead of answering, Genevieve shot forward like a snake biting an enemy. Janus fired his shot and before he knew anything more, she was standing in front of him as pain burned in his chest. It winded Janus, making him fall onto Magnus's desk. At first, he could not comprehend what he was feeling, but then Janus looked down and was horrified to see the person's hand stabbed into his chest up to the wrist. He felt himself begin to slip away as his body became cold and the pain faded. With his dying breaths, Janus looked up and saw a pair of cruel gleaming red eyes and a fang-filled smile.

Janus collapsed across the desk, eye rolling up into his head as his breathing stopped. Genevieve's smile deepened as she pulled her hand free of his chest. She absently pulled his crossbow bolt from her own chest with her other hand and tossed it aside. As she stared at her blood-soaked fingers, Genevieve smacked her lips hungrily. She began licking her hand clean, humming happily. She then opened Janus's pack and retrieving Magnus's private files. With a final lick across her palm, Genevieve sighed in disbelief.

"If I have told that man once, I have told him a thousand times not to keep this here," she muttered with a snarl.

Then a light fell upon the Undead woman. Genevieve looked out through the office window and cursed when she saw the Valkyrie incoming. In almost the same instant, Lenneth passed through the wall with her sword already swinging, forcing Genevieve back. The vampire narrowly evaded the goddess's first strike as she landed over by the office's door again. Lenneth glanced down at Janus's body.

"This is what the Great Genevieve amounts to?" Lenneth demanded. "Cutting a man down without so much as a fighting chance? I thought you were at least a cut above the common dabble of your kind."

Genevieve's eyes flashed.

"You know me on sight, Valkyrie?" she asked. Then she added with dripping sarcasm, "I'm so touched you remember me."

"Of course, I do," Lenneth answered, and pointed her sword at her enemy. "You could be none other than the Dark Mage of old!"

Genevieve just smiled.

"It has been ages, has it not, Valkyrie?" she faux-amiably asked. "Love the new look. The silver braid with light blue armor is fetching. The men will practically be throwing themselves at you."

"As if I would ever concern myself with such frivolities?" Lenneth shot back.

"Now I forget," Genevieve said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "Were these your colors back then? Blonde with light violet armor? Or black with black?"

Then she shrugged, "Oh, well, it's all the same really."

Then Lenneth jumped over the desk, landing much closer to the Undead witch.

"That will be enough talk from you," Lenneth sternly said. "The Undead should remain ever silent!"

Then both women passed through the office door out into the hall as Lenneth pursued the Undead witch. The goddess aggressively sliced and slashed at Genevieve who either dodged or blocked the Valkyrie's attacks with dark magic. They were halfway across the hall in a complete stalemate when Lenneth growled and summoned her einherjar.

Genevieve backed off as the Valkyrie's body glowed and her wings shimmered into partial visibility as five figured materialized and rallied beside their goddess. Arngrim smiled from anticipation as he drew Dáinsleif while the other four simply set their faces into determined frowns.

"Undead thing! Return to the grave which spawned three!" Lenneth shouted.

Genevieve growled back, sounding like an angry jaguar. She clutched Magnus's book of secrets closer to her side. The shifting of the tome's weight under her arm caught Lenneth's attention. Her blue eyes flicked down to the book.

"Your grip upon that manuscript is quite tight," Lenneth harshly commented. "Relinquish it willfully and I will make your end shift."

"Humph!" Genevieve scoffed.

"Just what is going on over here?" someone shouted behind Lenneth's party.

The Valkyrie cursed their rotten luck as a pair of guards rounded the corner. The goddess and her einherjar eyed the men in the corners of their eye. The two guards paused, uncertain of just what they were looking at. The older of the pair recovered and pointed his spear at them as he took charge.

"Stop right there! You are trespassing on private property!" he began running towards the group.

Genevieve smiled and snapped her fingers, causing a section of wall beside the two men to explode. The guards were flung against a window of the opposite, smashing through it. They were only stopped from falling from the second story by the iron bars just outside the glass. Instead, they fell onto the floor as the ceiling cracked and threatened to come down on them.

Lenneth's body practically moved on its own as she turned away from Genevieve, prompting her einherjar to close rank between her and the Undead witch. Genevieve smiled at them before dissolving into black mist passing between the panes of a nearby window. Jelanda jumped forward a step with a spell prepared, but Arngrim held out a hand, stopping her.

"Wait," he said.

Jelanda looked up at him in surprise.

Lenneth shot several icy blasts at the damaged ceiling, forming a layer of crystal, and stopping the collapse for the moment. The battle maiden looked down at the guards, who writhed slightly in pain where they lied, but were still alive. Lenneth then felt Genevieve depart and whirled back around to see the last of the misty particles filter out through the window. She leapt over Arngrim and Belenus and raced over to the window. The Valkyrie skidded to a stop and looked out, but the Undead witch was already gone. The einherjar gathered around to look out as well.

Jelanda then gave Arngrim an unhappy look.

"Why did you stop me?" she demanded.

"She'd turned to mist," Arngrim answered, and looked at her. "You magic might not have done anything except blow a hole in a wall."

"Lady Valkyrie called the woman Genevieve," Belenus observed.

"Who is she?" Nanami asked.

"Apparently, a powerful vampiress who was sealed away long ago," Lawfer answered. "We questioned an Undead while searching for Lady Beliza and Count Orlok, and he let slip she had been freed."

"He let nothing slip, actually," Belenus corrected him. "He was taunting us."

Lenneth ground her teeth behind tightly shut lips. She was as much angry with herself as Genevieve that the distraction worked. It was all she could do not to slam her fists against the window and shout in frustration. Instead, she composed herself and looked around at her einherjar before pointing back down the hall.

"Arngrim, Lawfer, move those men out from under the damaged ceiling before my crystals dissolve," she ordered. "Nanami, Jelanda, use levitation to lower the debris harmlessly to the floor."

"Yes, Lady Valkyrie," Lawfer, Jelanda, and Nanami answered.

"Yeah, yeah," Arngrim said as they went to carry out her orders.

That left Belenus, who remained in place as Lenneth approached to return to Magnus's office.

"Stand watch," she told him as she passed. "I will return in a moment with my new einherjar."

"Yes, Milady," Belenus answered with a slight bow.


To Janus, it had seemed as though he lost consciousness and then woke up still in Magnus's office. He looked down at his chest and grabbed at where she had stabbed him, but the hole was gone.

"What the…?" Janus muttered.

He also realized he was standing up.

"When did I…?" he wondered.

He turned toward the desk where he was sure had fallen and his mind went blank when he saw his own corpse lying spread across the desk's top. Much of Janus's blood had leaked from his wound onto the writing table. Janus couldn't move, speak, or otherwise react in any way. All he could do was stare into his own lifeless eye, rolled up. In his horrified fascination, Janus felt weak in the knees and nearly stumbled.

"I'm… I'm dead?" he asked.

"Yes."

Janus jumped in response, quickly retreating from the voice as he reached for his weapons, which he found somehow still attached to his belt. He faced this newcomer with his daggers out, and froze again when he saw it was the Valkyrie. After overcoming the shock, Janus threw down his weapons and fell onto his hands and knees before her.

"Forgive me, Lady Valkyrie," Janus repented. "I knew not what I was doing."

"Plainly," Lenneth answered. "Rise, human."

While Janus got up, Lenneth glanced over at his body before addressing him again.

"What brought you to this place?"

Shame and regret washed over Janus as the question and the sight of his corpse made the realization of his failure sink in.

"I was just trying to protect my family," he answered. "I…"

He gestured over to his bag, which he saw had been moved and its contents spilled out all over the floor, but the book was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, no!" Janus rasped.

He darted over and picked it up. Janus gasped when he saw the book wasn't inside and began desperately began digging around inside. Lenneth sauntered over up behind him, one hand resting on the hilt of her sword and the other on her hip.

"No!" Janus dropped his pack, feeling despaired. "That woman in black must have taken it."

"Is the item you're referring to perhaps a book?" Lenneth asked.

Janus looked at her with a start.

"You saw her?" he asked, and then added, "Milady."

"Yes, in fact, I briefly battled her when I arrived, but she fled with the manuscript," Lenneth answered.

"Drat!" Janus cursed and then palmed his face in despair. "All is lost."

"What was so important about the contents of that book that you came here at night to take it? Furthermore, why did that woman kill you for it?" Lenneth asked.

"'Tis a long story," Janus answered.

"I have time," Lenneth answered.

The sound of more heavy footsteps bounding towards the hall provoked an irritated look from Lenneth as she looked towards the door. There was a knock.

"Hey, Valkyrie, unless you wanna spend all night explainin' what happened to the night watch, we better get invisible or get going," Arngrim called from the other side.

Janus jaw dropped when he realized he knew that voice.

"Arngrim?" he whispered.

Lenneth made a beckoning motion with her arm.

"Enter," she commanded.

When the five einherjar materialized in the room, Janus gapped when he saw Arngrim, Jelanda, and Lawfer among them. The lordly man with long brown hair almost looked familiar, but the Yamatoese girl was a complete stranger.

"My friends… and Princess Jelanda?" he gasped.

Jelanda tried not to look at his body, and just smiled at him, curtsying.

"Hello, Janus," she greeted. "'Tis just Jelanda, Premiere Mage now."

Lawfer gave Janus a sad look while Arngrim looked away, both dismayed and angry.

"What in the worlds happened to you all?" Janus asked. "I've not heard of Artolia falling just yet."

Lawfer glanced down at Janus's body.

"It would seem we all have much catching up to do," he answered.

Lenneth stepped in between them.

"Quite right, but not here. Come. We can talk somewhere quieter," she said.


"He found this in your office."

Genevieve slapped Magnus's book of secrets down on the table in front of its owner. He stared at it, and then at an angry Genevieve. She leaned over the table, coming close to his face with her fangs intentionally visible.

"I protected your secrets this time. Take better care of them from now on," she threatened. "I will leave you to your fate if you cannot at least do some things yourself. Understood?"

"Quite clear," Magnus answered.

"Then I depart. I will summon you when next we meet," Genevieve said.

"Wait," Magnus held up a hand.

"Yes," Genevieve did not appreciate being delayed.

"Where did you leave his body?" Magnus asked.

"I was going to move him, but the Valkyrie arrived before I could," Genevieve explained. "He's likely still rotting on your desk, assuming the guards have not checked the offices yet."

Magnus practically jumped to his feet.

"You made a scene?" he demanded.

Genevieve growled like a great cat again, cowing the man into sitting back down with a hurried apology.

"Only because my work was interrupted by Odin's battle maiden," she explained.

Then she raised a brow, and asked, "Any particular reason he still drew breath up until tonight?"

"We couldn't kill him while the old king was alive," Magnus said. "Even after his 'fowl-up', House Iron Side's contributions to the kingdom warranted leniency from His Majesty. Janus made a grave mistake returning without King Calvin to protect him anymore."

"Very well," Genevieve answered. "It also seems you were right. The Valkyrie is nearer at hand than I anticipated. I must see to my preparations. I bid thee adieu."

Then she was gone, and the world was again as it should be, with Magnus sitting in his dining chamber under warm, golden candlelight. They had been lucky the servants had not tried to enter. The aging lord sunk down in his chair, his mind whirling with how he was going to handle the aftermath of this fiasco.

"This may be providence. I just have to be honest. Janus acted on his own in attempt to get something on me," he decided. "The prodigal son embarrasses his family again."

He eyed his book of secrets.

"At least I will not have to sneak this out of headquarters," he thought with some relief.


"Such treachery," Janus exclaimed.

"Indeed," Lawfer answered.

Janus walked along the edge of a clearing outside the city Lenneth had brought them to. He took in what his friends and the former princess had told him about their demises. Behind the ex-assassin, Arngrim had a long blade of grass between his teeth as he, Belenus, and Lawfer leaned against the side of a large tree near the center of the glade. Jelanda and Nanami sat on a log in front of them. Lenneth was off to the side, letting them talk.

"All this right after we all went our separate ways?" Janus asked, turning to face them.

"Two days after, actually," Arngrim shrugged.

Janus swallowed.

"Then I must apologize for leaving so soon," he said.

"Funny you should mention that," Arngrim muttered. "Why'd you never say you were from Crell Monferaigne?"

Jelanda looked back at Arngrim skeptically.

"What difference does that make?" she demanded. "So is Llewelyn."

"Llewelyn didn't hide it," Arngrim responded.

"Llewelyn?" Janus asked.

"Another of Lady Valkyrie's einherjar," Belenus answered. "He's already been sent off to join Lord Odin's army."

"He was our archer," Nanami put in.

"I see," Janus answered. "Thank you, uh…"

He trailed off, "Forgive me, sir, but I did not catch your name."

"Belenus. Belenus Grannosson," the Lassen noble answered.

Janus squinted.

"The proprietor of East Lassen Spices?" the ex-assassin asked.

"Former proprietor now, but yes," Belenus answered.

Janus was beside himself. The Valkyrie really chose warriors of all sorts. He pulled himself from his state of surprise to address Nanami.

"You are… a shrine maiden?" he asked.

Nanami beamed.

"Oh, you know something of my culture?" she asked, and giggled. "Indeed, I am. Suwa, Nanami. Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you Su…" Janus stopped and corrected himself. "Nanami."

Janus then noticed Arngrim still staring at him.

He looked away away with a bit of shame, "As for your question, Arngrim. I… was not sent to undermine Artolia, if that is what you're asking. I hid my nationality, because I feared I would not be accepted in any of the West nations if anyone knew where I was from."

Arngrim shrugged and began to lower his guard again.

"Fair," the scarred warrior admitted. "Your country is at war with us in the West. But why come to live in Artolia?"

"I was banished, actually," Janus answered. "Before that, I was part of the knighthood, and then the Intelligence office."

Lawfer silently uttered "Ah," as if something made more sense. The young knight looked at Arngrim.

"I always knew his fighting style was odd for a mercenary," he said.

Janus weakly motioned towards the city as he spoke, "But I had to return home after I heard King Calvin had passed. I was worried about my father. If His Majesty acted against them, they'd be helpless against the full might of the Knights of Hod."

Lenneth decided it was time to step in. She approached Janus.

"Was he in any danger after all?" she asked.

Janus looked away uncomfortably, "…No. I learned that in the office you found me in. I broke into Intelligence headquarters after I was confronted by an agent today. I had to be certain, even after…"

He stopped.

"Even after…?" Lenneth pressed.

As Janus thought on it, he began to realize how foolhardy he'd been.

"I visited father today," he told them. "He threw me out, because my very presence was actually endangering what remains of House Iron Side after my disgracing. Young King Ferdinand thankfully holds my family no ill will for my mistake. And that agent was only after me. He was actually acting outside his orders when he tried to kill me."

"And to verify this, you broke into your country's central intelligence?" Lenneth asked flatly. "What were you planning on doing with that book you were killed for?"

"I was going to blackmail Lord Magnus into leaving my family alone," Janus answered. "But… why was that woman there?"

Lenneth shrugged.

"Genevieve could have been there for any number of reasons," she answered. "Perhaps she also sought to steal Magnus's secrets. You may have handed some very dangerous information to a member of the Undead."

Janus's face fell as the full weight of his recklessness hit him.

"Are you trying to get your family offed?" Arngrim dubiously asked.

"Arngrim!" Jelanda cried.

"No, he's right," Janus held up a hand to stop her. "Quite correct. I have acted impulsively. I returned with no real plan other than to check on my father and have done much to provoke reprisal. If I had succeeded, His Majesty and the Intelligence office would have reason to act against House Iron Side. It may be better that I died this night."

Lenneth studied him, seeing much of the regretful youth she had felt in her meditation.

"I am familiar with House Iron Side," the Valkyrie said. "'Tis a long-standing tradition for the son to become a Knight of Hod. Why leave the knighthood at all?"

That was the question Janus had been dreading.

"My skill with the bow was noticed by certain people in high places," Janus solemnly answered. "The king requested I become an agent for him. To discover treachery within the court."

He had to pause to stay calm as old wounds reopened.

"I just wanted to make my father proud," Janus ardently said. "For him, I'd follow any of the king's orders."

"Even if the work if dishonorable?" Lenneth asked.

"Is it dishonorable to protect one's home?" Janus asked.

"Did you defend anything aside from the positions of those who commanded you?" Lenneth asked.

Janus liked to think so, but he had to admit he didn't really know.

"It seems I am in error once more," he confessed. "A similar careless mistake got me stripped of my rank and forced out of the kingdom. Ten years. I didn't return for ten years."

"Do you not know something as simple as your own place?" Lenneth incredulously asked. Then she shrugged. "Nonetheless, you are chosen. You now owe your soul to the gods."

Janus looked back hesitantly.

"Even after all my mistakes?" he asked.

"Your recklessness can be overcome," Lenneth said. "Let me give you a path, Janus of House Iron Side."

Janus nearly laughed. Her matter-of-fact manners were already growing on him.

"As you wish, Milady," he answered.