Early the next morning, I donned my snakeskin armor, strapped on my crossbow, sheathed Ebonclaw, and returned to the Prince’s Arms. The common room was far quieter than it had been the night before, with several patrons passed out or groaning softly. I didn’t recognize the bartender and he didn’t seem to recognize me.
In the center of the room, a severe-looking elf in a green-and-gold tunic stood flanked by two grim soldiers. As I approached, I recognized the taller of the soldiers.
“Good morning, Tarlest,” I said.
“Good morning, Dylan.” Tarlest nodded to the elf. “This is Segrel, Chief Secretary to the High Chamberlain.”
Segrel narrowed his eyes and gave me a cursory inspection. He didn’t extend his hand.
“You’re the adventurer who killed Captain Farrow?”
I blinked. I’d hoped Tarlest had said more about me than that.
“That’s right.”
“The High Chamberlain is a busy man,” Segrel said. “But Sergeant Tarlest’s report has certainly piqued his curiosity. He’d like to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”
The words were polite, but the elf’s tone made it clear that this was an official summons. That was fine by me—I needed quests, and outside of the Enclave, the chamberlain seemed like the best person to talk to.
“I’m ready when you are.”
⚔
The castle stood at least six stories tall, with imposing towers at each corner. Soldiers clad in chainmail marched along the battlements, and green-and-gold flags waved from every turret.
The halberd-wielding guards snapped to attention as Segrel approached. Two rushed to open the iron doors, which led to a wide stone staircase. As we ascended, Segrel turned to address me.
“We’ll reach the chamberlain’s office shortly. Leave your weapons with the guards, and we’ll return them when you leave. Understand?”
“I understand.”
After reaching the second floor, we entered a square office whose walls were covered with portraits of aristocrats. Four leather-clad soldiers searched me, and I handed them my dagger and crossbow. It was possible that I was walking into a trap, but there was nothing I could do. At least they didn’t take my bandoliers.
Once the guards were satisfied, Segrel beckoned me to a chair opposite a large oaken desk. He and Tarlest sat to my left and right.
The man seated at the desk wore a green-and-gold robe and a heavy chain that announced his high office. He was skeletally thin and nearly bald, with a fringe of iron-gray hair running along the bottom of his skull. He fixed me with piercing-blue eyes and smiled like an entomologist studying a new type of butterfly.
“I’m Lord Harad, the High Chamberlain of the kingdom. My time is precious, so I’d be grateful if you’d limit your speech to answers to my questions. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“Sergeant Tarlest has told us an extraordinary tale, and if it weren’t for his years of reliable service, I’d assume he’d lost his mind. Tell me, how did the two of you became acquainted?”
“I worked on missions for him and Captain Farrow in Raven’s Rest.”
The chamberlain nodded. “What missions did they give you?”
“I cleared the gnoll bandits from the Londorin Road and investigated the city of Nagak-Thurn.”
“How did Palomir the Just become involved?”
“After I defeated the gnolls, I found a letter from Palomir ordering them to rob travelers.”
The guards at the entrance grumbled at this, but no one challenged me.
The chamberlain's eyebrows rose. “Do you have this letter, by any chance?”
“No. Captain Farrow tore it up.”
“How convenient. So you visited Palomir’s temple to make inquiries. What did you learn?”
“Palomir and the other priests had switched their allegiance from Theris to Venabel. They had—"
“Rubbish!” one of the guards shouted.
“Slander!” another cried. “Palomir would never kneel to Venabel!”
“Quiet.” Harad snapped, then turned to me. “After talking to Palomir, you returned to Raven’s Rest to collect your reward. What happened after you entered the Guardhouse?”
“I told Farrow and Tarlest about what I’d learned. During the discussion, Captain Farrow saw Venabel’s mark, and then—”
“The Mark of Venabel?” Lord Harad cut in. “Are you implying that the Lady of Murder gave you some sort of sigil?”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“More like a curse,” I said. “She branded me, and now her followers attack me on sight. When Captain Farrow saw the mark, he transformed into a wolf and tried to kill me.”
The chamberlain pursed his lips. “Your story matches Tarlest’s in every detail, but there’s no proof. No letter from Palomir, no word from his priests, and no other witnesses to Captain Farrow’s transformation. Can you see why I find the matter so frustrating?”
“Yes. My only proof is Venabel’s mark.”
Keeping a close watch on the guards in the office, I brushed my hair aside to reveal the circular brand.
The chamberlain sighed. “That means nothing to me. It could be—”
One of the leather-clad guards sprang to his feet. “YOU HAVE OFFENDED THE LADY OF MURDER!”
The other soldiers tried to placate the furious guard, but he threw them aside. He grew taller than the rest of them, revealing muscular shoulders and hands covered with dark brown hair.
“YOU MUST BE PUNISHED!”
The chamberlain’s mouth fell open, and he rose from his chair and backstepped to the corner of the room, the color drained from his face. Segrel and Tarlest drew their swords and stood guard, but their weapons trembled in their hands.
Everyone watched in shock as the guard threw back his head and howled. Everyone but me, that is. After Farrow died, I stopped thinking of werewolves as terrifying. In fact, I smiled at the thought of the experience I’d receive—2,100 points just to jab a beast with silver. It felt like cheating.
I leapt on the chamberlain’s desk, grinning from ear to ear. I took out a silver bolt and shouted.
“Never fear! El Gato is here!”
Ignoring the blades of his fellow guards, the werewolf dashed toward me with his claws outstretched. He moved quickly, but it wasn’t hard to predict his attack. He slashed at me twice, and I sidestepped both times, waiting for an opening. Then, without subtlety or finesse, he leapt up at me.
Before the beast could close his jaws, I drove my bolt into the side of his neck. It wasn’t much of a wound, but it was enough to break the skin and transform him back into a human. A moment later, the guard fell onto the desk, crying.
⚔
Segrel, Tarlest, and Lord Harad stood at my side, too shocked to speak. Lying on the chamberlain’s desk, the naked guard wept.
“This is a werewolf,” I said. “Silver wounds him and forces him to take his humanoid form. But it won’t kill him unless it pierces his heart. This is how Captain Farrow died in Raven’s Rest, and this is how I killed Venabel’s priests.”
The chamberlain stepped forward. “Extraordinary. Venabel grants this power to all her followers?”
“I don’t know if she turns all of her worshippers into werewolves, but Palomir and Farrow gained this power when they joined her.”
This time, there was no outcry when I spoke ill of Palomir. Just silence. Segrel and the chamberlain looked as though they’d aged ten years.
“By the beard of Eothis,” Segrel said. “How many more of these beasts are in the city?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But there’s a better person to ask.”
I leaned over the naked guard. “How many other werewolves are in Encelas?”
“I’ll answer none of your questions, heathen! You must be punished for your—”
The guard screamed as I drove the bolt farther into his neck. Then I leaned closer. “We have all the time in the world. I’m going to give a silver bolt to everyone here, and when we’re done, your agony will exceed anything Venabel has in store for you.”
I removed another silver bolt from my bandolier and handed it to the chamberlain. “Lord Harad, would you like the honor?”
“Wait!” the wounded guard said. “There are at least fifteen of us in the castle, and at least twenty stationed throughout the city.”
“What are your orders?” the chamberlain asked.
“When Galliel gives the signal, those inside the castle are to slay the members of court and the kingdom’s high officers. Those outside the castle are to kill as many guards as they can, and then open the gates.”
Everyone in the room gasped. The chamberlain leaned over the guard, his face as white as milk, and spoke in a trembling voice: “What is Galliel’s signal?”
“Two fireballs flying over the city’s west wall. I don’t know when the attack is coming, but I was told it would happen before the month is out.”
“Who gave you your orders?” the chamberlain asked.
“I don’t know. At least once a week, I find a letter under my bed when I return to barracks. I burn each after reading it.”
Everyone stood silently, digesting what the guard said. Venabel’s werewolves waited inside and outside the castle, preparing to wreak havoc. I turned to Lord Harad. “Do you have any other questions?”
Harad shook his head solemnly. I took another bolt from my bandolier and drove it into the guard’s chest. He cried out and then burst into flame. +2,100 XP!
Segrel looked gravely at the chamberlain. “We have at most three weeks before Galliel’s attack. We need to prepare.”
“I agree,” the chamberlain said. “But our first priority is to find and kill as many of these werewolves as we can.”
The chamberlain pointed to me. “Give this man back his weapons. Then arm yourselves with silver. Show Venabel’s mark to everyone in the castle—every guard, page, noble, and scullery maid—and slay any who sprout claws and fangs. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Lord Chamberlain,” Segrel said.
“When you’re finished, bring him to my office. I’d like to speak with him in private.”
Before we left, I reached into my pack and withdrew the folded scrap of paper I’d found at Palomir’s desk. I handed it to the chamberlain.
“I came across this in Palomir’s temple. I assume that it’s a letter to Palomir, but I can’t read a word. Your people might stand a better chance.”
⚔
Two hours later, the apprentice to the castle mason tore out of his tunic, revealing powerful arms and long, deadly claws.
“HEATHEN!” The young man shouted. “YOUR TRANSGRESSION MUST BE PUNISHED WITH DEATH!”
The werewolf was about to leap at me, but Tarlest struck him in the side with a silver-bladed longsword. The rest of the masons watched on in shock as Segrel pierced the beast’s neck with a silver saber. A moment later, I shot him through the chest with a silver bolt. +700 XP!
I was disappointed that I only received one-third of the experience for slaying the beasts, but I was recovering my lost experience points quickly. I’d already risen to Level 4 and had regained my Weapon Specialization in Crossbow.
The head mason’s face flushed white. “What—what was that? Did Keldric have a disease? A curse?”
“No,”—Segrel wiped the blood from his blade—“he was a follower of Venabel.”
“The ninth we’ve slain today,” Tarlest said.
The rest of the afternoon proceeded in much the same way. I became well acquainted with the layout of the castle, from the wine cellar, to the barracks, to the aviary. Tarlest, Segrel, and I slew a total of seventeen werewolves, the highest-ranking of which was the chief wine steward, who’d been given orders to poison the royal family.
Counting the werewolf I’d slain in the chamberlain’s office, I’d gained 14,000 experience points, bringing me up to Level 5. I sighed in relief when I regained my Backstab ability—Level 6 was so close I could taste it.