The sun had just started to set when Segrel led me back to the chamberlain’s office. The official robes and chain hung on the wall, and Lord Harad now wore a simple tunic over faded gray pants. Sitting at his desk, he looked like a normal, overworked old man except for his eyes, which sparkled with intelligence.

“Everything went well, I trust?” Harad addressed Segrel.

“Yes, Lord Chamberlain. We interviewed everyone in the castle and killed every werewolf we encountered.”

“Excellent. Then you’re dismissed, Segrel. I wish you a fine dinner.”

Segrel bowed and departed. After he left, the chamberlain beckoned me to a chair.

“I… apologize for distrusting you when we first met. I didn’t want to believe that Venabel had acquired such power, or that Palomir had joined her cause. But I was mistaken on both counts.”

I raised my hands. “No apology needed. I’m sorry so many royal servants turned out to be Venabel’s agents.”

The chamberlain nodded gravely. “Alas, Venabel’s forces aren’t the only threat that faces us. I showed your letter to the High Wizard, and he was rather concerned, to say the least. Our best scholars couldn’t read a word of it, but they found a tome that identifies the language. Your letter is written in Belakite, a language employed by necromancers and demons.”

“Did you translate it?”

“Only fragments. We know it was addressed to Palomir and that the writer’s name is Akasur. This Akasur leads a band of outlaws called the Hidden Ones, and they’ve been committing crimes on Palomir’s orders. The details have proven hard to translate, but the message mentions four murders in the past and several more to be committed in the future. We don’t know who the intended victims are, but we’re confident that Akasur is in Encelas.”

A message scrolled along the bottom of my view: NEW QUEST: LEARN ABOUT AKASUR.

“How do you know he’s in the city?”

“My informants contacted the Bookseller Guild, and judging by the weave of papyrus used in the letter, their experts are certain it was purchased in Encelas. And if Akasur is here, I suspect that the Hidden Ones are responsible for the recent rash of unsolvable murders.”

I nodded. “Tarlest told me about them. I’d like to help.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” the chamberlain smiled. “Tarlest assures me that you’re a reliable and effective rogue, and you’re clearly no friend of Venabel. I’d like to employ you, but I don’t give out missions the way the King’s Guard does. I prefer to work on a more… permanent basis. Interested?”

I paused, considering the word permanent. My main goal was to find the Medallion of Darnok, but right now, I was desperate for experience.

“Very interested.”

“Then I’ll trust you with a secret.” The chamberlain leaned toward me. “My chief duty is to enforce the law, and to this end, I lead the King’s Guard. The guards act with probity and honor, and their good example inspires our citizens. But on occasion, enforcing the law requires stealth and deception. In these cases, I call upon a lesser-known outfit called the Surgeons.”

I nodded. Encelas had a secret police force. I could see where this was going.

“The Surgeons,” continued the chamberlain, “don’t wear regular uniforms and receive no official orders. Their clandestine operations are never made public. Did Tarlest or Segrel mention them?”

“Not a word.”

“Excellent. Their existence is a guarded secret. Given your abilities, I think you’d make a fine Surgeon. What do you think?”

I only needed a moment to form my response. If I’d reached Level 9 or Level 10, I probably would have stood a chance on my own. But at Level 5, I needed all the friends I could get.

“I accept. Is there a badge?”

“No, there can be no evidence that the Surgeons exist. I’ll help you escape from prison if you’re apprehended, but I will never acknowledge that you’re working for me. Is that clear?”

“Quite clear. What would you like me to do?”

“I’d like you to meet the leader of the Surgeons, a fascinating woman named Wystane. Then I want you and the Surgeons to travel through the city and slay any werewolves you meet. Once that’s done, I want you to investigate Akasur and his band of cut-throats. Where are you staying?”

“The Thirsty Cat.”

“A fine tavern. I’ll have Wystane collect you in the common area tomorrow morning. She’ll tell you that she finds axes to be crude instruments for cutting. You’ll tell her to use a scalpel. Understood?”

“Yes, Lord Chamberlain.”

“Splendid. Until then, your time is your own.”

⚔

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After sunrise the following day, I entered the common room of the Thirsty Cat. The chamberlain hadn’t said what Wystane looked like, so I wandered around, glancing furtively at the women. There were servants and merchants and ladies of leisure, but none of them appeared to notice me.

I gave up on spotting Wystane and took a seat at the bar. While I waited, a voice addressed me from my left.

“Excuse me, sir. I need to make a cut, and I find axes to be too crude.”

I turned and saw a short woman dressed in a dirty blouse and dark pants. Everything about her, from her clothing to the bonnet strapped over unkempt hair, made her look like a maid. But there was a hard fearlessness in her gray eyes and a complete lack of warmth in her smile. My stomach clenched—this woman was a killer.

“Then you should use a sc-scalpel,” I replied.

She nodded, then lowered her voice. “Follow me.”

As instructed, I left the Thirsty Cat and followed Wystane into the crowded street. I thought she might slow down so we could talk, but she headed southward at a rapid pace and didn’t seem interested in conversation.

As we walked, I noticed that Wystane’s feet never made a sound. She stepped through puddles and over loose rocks in total silence, and didn’t appear to be trying.

Stranger still, her clothing kept its shape as she walked, never moving or swaying. I studied this for some time before I realized that her outfit wasn’t really a maid’s uniform. She was wearing armor—a suit of cloth-thin armor that had been carefully crafted to look like servant’s garb.

The crowd thinned as we entered the wealthy section of Encelas, with its cobbled streets and dominating mansions. Most of the pedestrians were servants, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly Wystane blended in. If she fled from a scene, no one would be able to tell her apart from the other domestics.

My stamina had almost run out when Wystane stopped at one of the larger houses. It had three stories, white brick walls, and a dark timber roof. She opened the front door, quickly scanned the crowd around us, and then beckoned me inside.

I walked into an opulent sitting room, with tapestries hung on the wall alongside portraits of well-dressed nobles. But there were no aristocrats present—the three people seated in armchairs were all dressed as servants. After closing the door, Wystane stood at my side.

“Welcome to Sir Amberley’s house. I’m Wystane, the lady’s maid. Seated before you are Bolan the steward, Dannik the cook, and Hubril the valet.”

Each person nodded as Wystane mentioned their names. Bolan was a dark-haired human in a green tunic, Dannik was a female half-elf in a muslin dress, and Hubril was a male half-orc wearing a white shirt, dark pants, and fine leather boots.

I smiled at the ruse—despite their uniforms, it was obvious that none of them were servants. The Surgeons smiled with a cold-blooded confidence that told me I’d entered the headquarters of the city’s secret police. I didn’t feel threatened, but I didn’t feel safe either.

Just then, the front door opened and a short, corpulent man stepped inside. He was at least twice as old as everyone else, and carried a mahogany box the size of a briefcase.

“And this is Freth,” Wystane said, then turned to address the newcomer. “Are those the new blades?”

“Yes they are.” Freth set his box down. “I have a new dagger for each of you. Now the blades are made of silver.”

Freth grinned at me. “I really am a servant. Whenever you need anything—armor, weapons, items—just talk to Freth.”

“I’m Dylan,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I was told that I might be of use.”

“I certainly hope so,” Wystane said. “Sir Amberley said you know how to flush out Venabel’s followers. Is that right?”

It seemed odd that they referred to the chamberlain as Sir Amberley, but I supposed the deception was necessary. It’s easier to assume a disguise if you live it every day.

“That’s right.” I brushed aside the hair from my forehead. “If any of you worship Venabel, you’ll transform into a wolf.”

The Surgeons looked at one another, and I was relieved to see that none of them grew claws and fangs.

“It looks like we’re safe,” Wystane said. “How did you get the mark?”

“I killed three of Venabel’s priests and dedicated her temple to Motiacca.”

“Well done!” Bolan clapped. “The Lady of Murder won’t forget that.”

Wystane didn’t seem impressed. “Sit down, Dylan. Tell us everything.”

I sat in an armchair and related my dealings with gnolls, nagas, and werewolves. I told them about the importance of silver and how I’d used it to kill Palomir’s friends, Captain Farrow, and Venabel’s agents in the castle.

The Surgeons looked surprised but not scared. Apparently, they were used to dealing with monsters.

“Venabel has grown powerful,” Dannik whispered.

“Too powerful,” Bolan said.

Wystane cleared her throat. “Sir Amberley is satisfied that the castle is free of Venabel’s agents. Now he wants us to escort Dylan through the city and slay anyone who attacks.”

“When should we begin?” Hubril asked.

“As soon as he’s outfitted.” Wystane turned to address Freth. “Can you get Dylan proper equipment?”

Freth studied me. “The groundskeeper outfit is too large, but the coachman’s uniform should suffice. What do you think?”

I didn’t like the idea of dressing as a servant, but I welcomed the opportunity to change my appearance. I also felt flattered to be part of such an extraordinary group.

“That sounds fine,” I said.

“For weapons,” Freth continued, “Sir Amberley said you fight with dagger and crossbow. Is that right?”

I nodded, then held out Ebonclaw and my crossbow.

“We can do a great deal better than that,” Freth said. “Wait here and I’ll have everything ready.”

As Freth walked out, I realized that I’d failed to mention something important.

“Two nights ago,” I said, addressing the group. “I was attacked at The Prince’s Arms.”

The Surgeons listened intently as I described the jester who had broken into my room. I explained how I’d trailed him to the slums and how he’d magically transformed into a thug.

“Tell us more about the jester’s weapon,” Wystane said. “Every detail.”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember the assassin’s strange blade. “The hilt and blade were black. One side of the hilt was splayed backward, and the blade had only one sharp edge.”

When I finished, Wystane ran across the room and removed an object from a chest. I gasped as she placed it on the table—a single-edged black dagger with a curled-back hilt.

“Encelas has been plagued with bizarre murders,” Wystane said. “And all the victims were stabbed by this kind of dagger. We’ve never caught anyone, but two weeks ago, we came close. He vanished before we could arrest him, yet he left us this.”

I took a deep breath. “That’s exactly what the jester’s dagger looked like.”

"You're quite the wonder, Dylan." Hubril laughed. “Not only can you flush out Venabel’s agents, but you’ll also help us catch our invisible murderers. Welcome to the team!”