[DAY ONE…]

Will

He took his time coming back from Millstone, both to conserve energy and to scan the forest route they had taken from the coast for any potential disturbances. He was happy he did when he found three lifers coming north, perceivable long before they came into eyeshot through his sustained cast of Detect [Life].

There was no good reason for someone to venture so far off the Iron Road, traveling toward no particular destination, unless maybe you were a particularly daring bandit.

Will crouched where he stood amid the shrubbery, and shut his eyes to focus on his extrasensory perception. He would like to know more about these people before engaging them directly, but Detect [Life] told him nothing other than that they all appeared to be male, and that they were picking their way through the dense forestation with no particular urgency. He could not Identify them either without drawing their attention by the mental nudge. However…

"Identify [Skill Use]," he whispered, casting his consciousness outward like a fishing line toward the three gentlemen. Since it was not targeting the men directly, but only skills in their vicinity, they would not take notice unless their Awareness was particularly high.

This scan provided two results; Detect [Life] and Locate [Samantha Darling].

Yep. That'll do it.

They were trackers. Interestingly, they were looking for Sam, not Will himself. He assumed that either Handsome or Brimstone had sent them, meaning that at least one of them knew the importance of Sam's name.

For perhaps the hundredth time in the last three days, Will found himself cursing Mongrel for his indiscretion. He forced calm by telling himself that it would have become a problem sooner or later anyway—he'd just hoped he'd get more time to prepare before thrusting her into danger.

The man using Locate had to be an Explorer—Level 10 or higher since he had Locate—which meant the other two were likely the muscle, serving as an escort. He should have anticipated they would use Locate to sniff him and Sam out, but he hadn't expected Brimstone to dedicate those kinds of resources toward a manhunt just yet.

Even though the other Explorer had Detect [Life] active, Will was still far out of his range by virtue of his own vastly expanded reach—something that gave him a large advantage against nearly all other sensory types.

He aimed a max-range Dash up into the crown of the nearest solid pine, at least thirty feet up. He straddled one of the branches, leaned his head back against the trunk, and stayed very still, waiting for the three lifers to come to him. If he didn't move at all and hid the outline of his body, it would be almost impossible for the Explorer to make him out with his Detect [Life] over the ambient biomass of the trees—the easiest and most reliable form of camouflage against a sensory type, barring the Incognito passive.

He waited until the three men were almost directly beneath him. Three curare-coated throwing knives and about a minute later, they were all on the ground. Will jumped down to greet them, wind tenting his coat and pine needles scratching his face as he fell from the canopy, landing in a soft, Repel-assisted crouch in the midst of the men.

"Hey, guys," he said. "Hope you don't mind me 'dropping in'." He held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "Sorry, that was a bad one, I know."

"Who… the fuck…?" mumbled one of the brawnier-looking fellows, struggling with a droopy, numbing face pressed half into the ground. They all had their sleeves down, but a quick peek at their sheets confirmed that they were two Laborers, Level 6 and 8 respectively, and one Level 11 Explorer.

"I'll give you one hint," Will said cheerily, rewarding the Level 6 Laborer's feeble attempt to swipe at him with a shortsword by giving his face a couple firm stomps. "I'm not Samantha Darling."

"You can't do this," the Explorer hissed, slumped with his back against a tree one arm splayed out to the side and the other pinned awkwardly beneath him. His chin dipped down onto his chest as he gradually lost control of his faculties, but his eyes stayed fixed on Will with an accusing glare.

Will turned his attention to the man, arms spread wide. "No? And why is that, exactly?"

"You…"

"I? Go on, speak up. In fact, take all the time in the world—though, maybe I should advise you have in fact all just received a lethal dose of poison, and that the window to administer the antidote will expire in about a minute—maybe two, for you big fellows." He knelt, catching his medicine bag as he expelled it from his Inventory, and unfurled it on the ground. "So if any of you fine gentlemen value your lives, I'd suggest you get a lot less disrespectful and a lot more cooperative."

"Don't tell him… anything," the Explorer worked out with a floppy shake of his head. "He's the Misfortune. He'll just kill us anyway once he has… once he has… what he wants."

"That's an interesting theory," Will intoned, producing a glass vial of clear curare antidote and shaking it in the air. "Anyone care to put that to the test? I'm sure you'll feel an enormous pride in not revealing our beloved Lord Brimstone's secrets as your lungs refuse to inflate and you slowly choke to death."

"Just tell us… what you want to know," said Laborer 6.

"Shut up!" the Explorer hissed.

Will didn't feel like listening to him anymore, so he cut that man's throat real quick and returned to the cooperative one and wiped his knife on the Laborer's trousers.

Laborer 6 stared over Will's shoulder at the Explorer gurgling blood. The man's chest was pumping like mad, nostrils flared as he hyperventilated for all he was worth. Will gave his cheek a few soft claps, brought him back to the present.

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"Tell me what your orders were, and who gave them to you," Will said, speaking slowly and clearly. "Do that, and I'll give you the antidote."

"The advisor…" Laborer 6 said.

"Handsome!" Laborer 8 cut in, eager enough to save his skin once he saw his friend doing it.

"Ooh, sorry," Will said with an apologetic click of his tongue, "just a bit too late, I'm afraid. I only have the one antidote, so…" Untrue, but they had no way of knowing that.

"But…" Laborer 8 pawed uselessly at the ground with one hand, pulling at random bits of greenery—to do what, exactly, Will did not understand.

Will sighed, straightened himself from his crouch by Laborer 6. "All right, all right. To make it fair, here's what we'll do—both of you tell me what you know, and I'll give the antidote to the one whose story I like most. And for your information, I've got a lot in Empathy, so if you lie, I'll know." Again, untrue—again, they had no way of knowing.

The two men began to speak over each other in their haste to betray their master, slurring their words as the poison spread its tendrils into them.

It was a fairly expedient interrogation, all in all—three was a very convenient number of prisoners, after all. One to make an example of, and two to pit against each other. It was textbook, really. Not that he got too much out of it. The men had been sent to track Sam, keep an eye on her, report back to Handsome. Whether the order had come courtesy of Brimstone or if Handsome had acted on his own was still unclear.

There was no need to dispose of the corpses—even if someone went looking for them, which he doubted, the monsters would make the evidence vanish, bones and all, before the day was out.

He traveled the rest of the way to the farm without issue. The main house was a mess, the floorboards in the kitchen still soaked with Sam's blood. Unsurprisingly, the place had been turned over, locks smashed and furniture displaced and possessions rifled through. It was altogether too thorough a job to have been carried out by common brigands. Brimstone's people had probably made this place their first stop.

The worst tragedy was that most of the animals had either fled or been killed. A few goats wandered the crop field, but that was it. Mongrel would probably be torn-up about that.

Will did not bother attempting to herd them back into their pen—he had bigger issues at hand. After washing up in the yard, changing into a set of clothes that had gone relatively unmolested during the search, and refreshed his alchemical supplies, he set out for the city. There was no use putting off his meeting with Brimstone—better to rip the band-aid off quickly.

By the time he reached Sheerhome, he was tired and sore from all the walking, but relatively fresh as far as skill fatigue went. An extra day's rest in Millstone had paid dividends, and he had been as sparing as possible with skill use on the return trip to avoid spoiling that. Perhaps more importantly, it had been more than 24 hours since he'd used Forget Me Not, so he had his SP crystal back just in case things got really dicey.

Approaching Brimstone's walled military compound, he was swiftly halted by the attending guards. Will made no effort to resist as the points of four halberds came to rest less than two feet from his throat. He threw Anathema at their feet, unable to suppress a chuckle at the way it made them jump back, and waited patiently while one of the Laborers went to fetch a superior.

Which, of course, turned out to be Will's very best friend in all the world.

"Well, well—this is some surprise," said Captain Griff as he came swaggering down the path that led up to the keep. "I knew you were a cheeky fucker, One-Eye, but I didn't think you'd have the gall to come slinking back like this."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly deny you the pleasure of my company," Will replied with an amicable smile. "How have you held up in my absence? You do look a little red around the eyes, there."

Griff flashed a brown-stained smile of his own, sharp and sadistic. "Tears of joy, mate."

"Hmm, are you sure? I think you're blushing now." He looked around at the halberd-toting guards, who had rapidly multiplied from four to a dozen. "What about you, fellas? Do you think he's blushing?"

A few glanced behind them, then quickly looked away to pretend they hadn't.

"Enough!" Griff barked, right hand twitching toward the handle of a dagger on his belt. "You've seen your last Godsnight, One-Eye. Remember what I told you?"

"Hmm…" Will tapped his chin as though searching his memory. "That thing about dogs? Yes—one of your better attempts at intimidation, if I recall correctly." He shrugged. "Oh well, I suppose everyone's got to die sometime. All right, Griff, you've got me dead to rights. My only wish is that you're the one to carry out the killing. I think it would make me feel better, dying by the hand of a friend."

Griff's scarred face contorted in a series of furious grimaces. He spat a gob of tobacco-laced spit on the ground, but said nothing.

"Well?" Will asked, smiling, and held his arms out to his sides. "What are you waiting for? Based on what you said just now, I assume the lord has issued a kill contract on me—at least put out a warrant for my arrest—or am I wrong?"

Griff's red face was beginning to turn an alarming shade of purple, tendons on his neck jumping with tension, but still, he said nothing.

"Or maybe, could it be that he hasn't done that at all? Please, Griff, do tell me so that I know whether to start spitballing my closing remarks."

"Lord Brimstone has forbidden you from entering the compound," Griff worked out through bared, gritted teeth.

"Then, you won't be putting me down like a rabid dog?"

No reply.

"Well, that's a relief. I have so much to live for, after all."

"Leave at once, assassin."

Will gave a scandalized gasp. "Just like that? Not even a kiss on the cheek goodbye? Griff, are you… are you embarrassed of our acquaintance? Do you not want to show your tender side in front of all your dress-up soldiers, is that it? For shame, my friend. I thought better of you, I really did."

The guard captain gave another three or four toothless threats of hanging or impaling or burning at the stake before Will eventually got bored and left.

It seemed that he was indeed in the doghouse with Brimstone, seeing how he had been denied access to the keep. The fact that he hadn't been detained on the spot was a good sign, though. Maybe there was still a chance for him to talk his way back into the lord's good graces.

Not wanting to get Joe Crag wrapped up in his mess, Will picked a random café to while away some time as he gathered his thoughts. It wasn't long after he'd sat down at one of the tables outside the establishment that a Message drifted out of the sky and hit the tabletop with a soft slap right between his hands.

The wax seal bore the lord's burning man mark. Inside was a letter written in Handsome's neat, flowing style.

William,

I am glad to hear of your safe return to the city. Lord Brimstone will be embarking on a brief hunting trip tomorrow at noon, and requests for you to join him, if it pleases you. If you wish to attend, he asks that you bring whatever weaponry you would deem effective against a lesser hydra.

I await your reply.

Humbly,

H.

Will sipped at his coffee while mulling over the letter. He'd been worried about having to walk into the keep, Brimstone's place of power—him inviting him out into the wilderness, the most vulnerable place for him to be, was surprising. A little too good to be true, even. A trap of some kind?

I guess I won't know until I find out.

If you were going to bet on something, might as well bet big. Mongrel had told him that at some point—probably one of the few wise things that man had ever spoken in his life.