It was only a small hall, but it was a mansion compared to the other hovels in the village. It looked larger from the outside; the interior was made smaller by the presence of brewing equipment. The floor was bare earth, but there was some roughhewn wooden furniture and the abode was heated by a large fire pit in the center.

In front of this fire pit sat an old man, and nearby him was a woman of his own age. Vero supposed the woman was his wife, but she might also have been a sister. There were also several other younger girls. They were engaged in spinning wool, aside from one who seemed to be pregnant and was in the process of repairing a garment with needle and thread.

Her master strode up directly to the fire pit and Vero followed in his wake. “Greetings, are you Phillipe, the alderman?”

“I am,” he replied. Vero noticed with indignation that the village elder made no move to offer them seats, or any other hospitality. It was evident by the man’s posture their reception would be a cold one. “And who are you stranger?”

“I am a traveling slayer. I’ve come here to find work.”

“Slayer?”

“Aye.”

“I’m not familiar with the occupation.”

“My trade is to remove the unnatural, exorcise restless spirits, and exterminate abominations.”

“And the boy?” Phillipe nodded toward Vero where she stood beside her master.

“My apprentice,” he replied succinctly, before casting the matter aside and returning to selling their services. “Word has been passed by the peasants of each manor within a week’s travel… that a creature of murderous inclination haunts the woods on these lands. I can remove this thing that troubles you- in exchange for a moderate fee.”

Phillipe chuckled and remained unimpressed. “How moderate, stranger?”

Her master continued nonplussed. “Nothing beyond your means, I assure you.”

Phillipe played at considering the proposal for a few seconds before shaking his head. “No, I’m afraid I’m not willing to allow the village to turn over any of its hard-won produce to a wandering vagabond who claims to be a monster hunter. The bailiff has been told of the situation, and Ser Louis will organize a response how he sees best. It’s not my place to circumvent him.”

Looking around, Vero could not help but notice that Phillipe seemed to have profited a great deal more from the villagers produce than anyone else. Although she said nothing about it.

For his part, her master did the same. “There’s no telling how long the lord will be in coming. Surely it makes more sense to take the solution presented to you. Tonight is the first night of the full moon. If the pattern repeats itself-”

“If you are in such desperate need of money stranger, you might find some other occupation. Woodcutting, or doing some other labor. Perhaps your boy could find some way to earn coin.” The alderman let out a low chuckle which made Vero’s skin crawl.

She had an idle fantasy of driving her dagger into the man’s neck, but she was more concerned about her master’s reaction. Vero knew her master well enough to realize that the prideful old man would be in a profound fury from the elder’s mocking tone, and he might not be so willing to allow his violent fantasies to remain idle. To his credit, however, he gave no sign of disquiet save for a slight narrowing of the eyes.

The Slayer just nodded and offered a curt grunt of a farewell before ushering both of them out.

Her master led her in a silent huff, but once they were safely out of earshot, he let fly with a number of bitter invectives leveled at the alderman. “That stupid thief. The foolish old baldhead would rather watch his neighbors be torn apart then offer a copper quarter to protect them.”

The foolish old baldhead in question was, to all appearances, of the same age as her master. Although Vero knew better than to offer that observation at the moment. In lieu of it, she offered an alternative suggestion.

“We could go to the lord and offer our services to him. If it isn’t too far, and we hurry, we may be back before the third night.”

“Bah.” He waved his hand at her dismissively. “Lords don’t give a god’s damn about the ones who work their lands, that’s to be expected. We shall have a hell of a time getting anything from him. Even if we made it back in time, we would be hunting exhausted, and that would only get one or both of us killed. We should have arrived sooner.”

They had intended to reach the village two days ago, but her master had taken many late mornings which delayed them.

He continued to fume about the village elder under his breath. “I thought better of a member of the commons; that he might have a care about his fellows.”

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“I suppose only those without a modicum of empathy ever acquire wealth.” Vero could not help but smirk. “Although in that case, why are you still so poor master?”

He waved his hand at Vero again, and this time he used it to cuff her- though not hard. Her smile disappeared, but she had felt worse.

“If I’d wanted your japes- I’d have asked for them, girl.”

He cuffed her again, and this time he hit her harder- though she had still felt worse. “The logical structure of your argument is flawed in the premise. It’s plainly evident that one may need to be a mean old bastard to become rich, but it does not therefore follow that one must be rich to become a mean old bastard.”

He raised his hand to hit her a third time, but then appeared to lose interest. He turned away from her and continued to walk.

“Will we be going to Ser Louis now?” Vero asked hopefully.

The old man grunted, and then after a dozen steps or so offered an intelligible reply. “We’ll head out of the village and make camp. Then we’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

“You think something will change their minds, master?”

“I don’t know. We’ll find out tomorrow. Be silent now, girl.”

Vero was none too pleased by the dismissal, but there would be no point in arguing further. She did not wish to risk learning how hard the third hit could be.

It was a pleasant spring evening, and there was no trace of any clouds in the sky – at least none with sufficient weight to bring rain – so they forewent tents to bivouac beneath the open sky. Her master ordered Vero to set the wards and snares around their camp, then watched her carefully as she did so. He appeared to have no objections to her work. As soon she was finished, he sent her to fetch wood for a fire.

By the time Vero returned with an armful of sticks, she found him already chewing on his supper of dried meat without waiting to boil it. And nursing from his wineskin.

She built the fire and used it to boil her own meager portion of the tasteless dried meat. Even after boiling, it still bore more resemblance to shoe leather then food. She completed the meal with water, purified by sour wine, and some stale bread. While gathering wood she had taken the opportunity to collect a handful of wild berries which offered a brief reprieve of sweet flavor at the very end. With her hunger pangs subsided she lay down on her bedroll.

Because of the season the sun still hung over the horizon, but only barely. The sooner the day was over, the better, in Vero’s opinion. She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. However, after only a moment, she felt a hand fall across her breast and rough fingers work at undoing her belt. She realized it was not to be.

Vero sighed and moved her master’s hands away from the mess he was making of her clothes and disrobed herself. She could smell his fetid breath as he panted and waited impatiently for her to finish.

If he was intent on laying with her, she would have preferred him to order her over to his bedroll. She was certain that by the time he was finished, her bed would reek of the old man. Perhaps she should have simply gone over to him- but she had hoped that the drink would put him to sleep again.

When she was finished undressing and lay down again, he removed himself from his clothes and Vero did her best to avoid acknowledging the way his eyes crawled over her.

The Slayer had been deft as a dancer when she first saw him in battle, but his dexterity in other matters had always left a great deal to be desired. Recently, however, Vero had noticed him becoming progressively clumsier. Now he could no longer drink enough to still his shaking before becoming drunk.

Age had clearly taken its toll on her master. As much as she hated him, Vero could not help but feel some pang of pity for him, as he stood before her with a trembling hand trying to work himself into a fit state to enter her. The leering was finished, and his face was crimson. Partially from the effort, and partially from his own embarrassment. She directed her eyes downwards again so as not to take undue notice.

They had both, she felt, suffered enough humiliation for the day.

Once he was ready, he lay down and she sat astride him while he let out a long sigh. For a moment Vero wondered if he had not fallen asleep, or gone one better and simply died at last. A moment later he opened his eyes, and with the initial hurdle accomplished he seemed to have regained his confidence.

He rolled over, none too gently sending Vero to the ground. He then took up a position behind her like a stallion, which he no doubt imagined himself to be. With her face smashed into her bedroll, Vero could not exactly describe herself as comfortable. At least she was familiar enough with the old man that there was no pain. Mercifully enough, it was over quickly.

The Slayer practically fell down next to Vero, breathing heavily. “I despair of ever teaching you to master the blade, but you’ve all the necessary skills for the bed chamber.” He managed through wheezes.

Vero was hardly listening. She turned herself over onto her back and felt dirty. She hoped that once he caught his wind he would leave, but that seemed not to be the case. He rested his head against her and very nearly curled up into the fetal position.

Vero realized that she was expected to provide more comfort. She tuned herself to face him, trying to ignore how slick he was with perspiration. She was trying to decide how best to send him on his way when, to her shock, he kissed her.

After only a moment he broke the kiss. Vero could only manage to stare at him, dumbfounded as to what had transpired. He had not kissed her in some years, and she found it still just as unpleasant as she had then. The old man looked back with a trace of embarrassment in his features. Then he laid down flat with his eyes turned upwards towards the web of heaven above them.

Vero decided against saying anything. She just turned away and attempted to sleep again. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore her master’s presence.

“I should never have brought you with me.”

Vero was not certain if his words were directed at her, so she thought it best to keep her eyes closed and ignore them.

“You should be married by now with children of your own.”

Vero opened her eyes to find that her master had turned over and was addressing her directly.

“I should have refused you when you asked me to train you. I should have refused.” Her master was blinking heavily as he spoke, and Vero began to fear that he might burst into tears. An occurrence she had no notion of how to handle.

She decided she needed to do something, if only to make him cease his lamentations. She laid his head across her bosom and gently stroked his thin gray straw-like hair.

“Oh, my darling little Vero. What would I do without you?”

Vero made no verbal response. She just held him and waited for him to fall asleep. She eventually found oblivion’s embrace as well, but not until a great deal later when darkness had truly fallen. Not until the first full moon had risen to look down on them from high above.