Mattimeus waited in the Nirimi meeting hall as his future party members straggled in. He wanted to move—to stretch, to practice a few sword forms, at least to tap his foot—but it would not do to seem restless, impatient, or overeager. As party leader, his conduct needed to be beyond reproach.

The first two to show up were Pipper Degaris and Madge Whiting, both of whom had been delving with Mattimeus for most of their time together at the Academy. They'd agreed to party with Mattimeus before graduation, and he was glad to see they hadn't changed their minds in the face of tragedy—they'd both said they wouldn't, but statements and actions were too often separate.

Pipper was a barrier-focused caster who'd been grouping with him since their first year. Initially Mattimeus had thought she was some sort of social climber, trying to grasp firm hold of his coat-tails—that, or an incompetent looking for someone to carry her. After all, House Aureate had power but little prestige, making him an attractive prospect for such schemes. As his fortunes had risen he'd acquired more hangers-on, more would-be heroes looking to feast on his scraps, but Pipper had been there first and most devotedly. If she'd planned to take advantage, she'd chosen her target well.

But over the course of four years, Mattimeus had realized Pipper was simply infatuated. It was—sweet, but she was common-born with no House name to herself. His own family, of course, would not ever allow a marriage with someone of her caliber, someone with so little capacity for advancement. Her family had bankrupted itself to pay for her Academy tuition. As a strictly supportive caster she stood little chance of earning a name on her own merits, not without a generous party member forgoing their own share of prestige in order to elevate her. She had chosen her class generously and unwisely.

Still, she was earnest and competent. Mattimeus had taken thorough advantage of her delving skills, and tried not to encourage her in a personal capacity. He liked to think that they'd forged something like friendship.

Her friend Madge was a dedicated tank, not much good at dealing damage but very good at drawing attention, whether in combat or out of it. She was devoted to Pipper but much less enthusiastic about Mattimeus, occasionally defiant though only rarely outright disobedient. Her obvious skills meant he let it slide, for the most part. Privately Mattimeus suspected she was jealous of him. Publicly he was just as professional with Madge as he was with Pipper.

"Hey, Mattie," Pipper said. "I'm glad we're all finally free. You're still going with the plan?"

"As much as possible," he replied. "Evanellis died in the attack, though, so I've had to modify it."

"Yeah, isn't it terrible?" Madge said. "Surely the greatest casualty of the whole incident: Matt's party composition."

"By no means," Mattimeus said. "The death of Evanellis—the deaths of so many of our classmates and companions—is the tragedy. This is only a comparatively minor consequence. I would much rather Evanellis survived, whether or not he chose to group with us." He saw another party member approaching and raised a hand in greeting. "Dawlian! Over here!"

"You would say that," Madge grumbled. "It was a joke. I mean, not Evan's death, that's not a joke. That sucks. But you, you don't always have to be so solemn. I thought you got all of that tortured nobility out of your system during the memorial."

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Dawlian Draygis joined them, one of Octavian's friends. Mattimeus ignored Madge in favor of shaking Dawlian's hand.

"Uh, hey," Dawlian said. "I'm Dawlian. You probably guessed that. I, uh, don't know if you know me? But I sort of know you. I guess we're all going to be partying up, huh? Thanks for inviting me, Matt, I really appreciate it. I know you're just doing it because of Tav, but you could have picked anyone, and, well, I'm really honored you would pick me."

Mattimeus nodded. "We have one more coming," he said, "a late addition to the group." He did not add that his original plan had only called for four party members, and that Dawlian's ranking at the Academy suggested he would make a poor replacement for Evanellis. Either Dawlian was competent enough to realize his inadequacies or he wasn't. Either way, Mattimeus gained nothing by explaining.

"That'd be me," said a voice. A shadow stepped out from behind one of the support pillars and resolved into a short but rail-thin man. "I was just watching."

"Gradible Morse," Mattimeus said by way of explanation. "Not one of our classmates: he graduated from the Academy two years ago."

Gradible winced. "Please, call me Grady. I still haven't forgiven my parents for the name 'Gradible.'"

"Very well, then," Mattimeus said. Everyone else's fondness for nicknames irked him occasionally, but it would cause undue strife to insist on formality. Certainly it was easier to yell "Matt!" in the middle of a fight than to deal with all four syllables. "'Grady' wished to help us avenge the fallen, among whom is his younger brother."

"My brother, Rick," Gradible said. "Rictus if you're being formal—Matt, you seem to like formal. Maybe you all knew him? No? I know he was friends with Dawlian." He shrugged. "I guess you three weren't actually that close to Tav and the others, but—well, I do appreciate being invited. It feels good to do something, right? To try and make a difference, even if everybody else is going on with their lives the same as they were before."

Gradible, from Mattimeus's research, was a skilled shadow-mage whose lack of social connections had left him without a consistent party after his graduation. He was a useful resource, and since his only crime was awkwardness and shyness his classmates were fools not to have used him.

"I'm glad to have you all on the team," Mattimeus said. "Now, our previous party composition had been pre-registered as 'the Golden Edge,' but with these changes we'll have to re-submit. I thought we might choose a new name as well, something to honor our fallen and express our commitment. Perhaps 'the Swords of Vengeance,' or something along those lines?"

Everyone stared blankly at Mattimeus.

"No," Madge said. "That's dumb. Let's just stick with Golden Edge."

Pipper winced. "It's a little dramatic, Mattie," she said. "I understand you're upset about the attack, but I don't know if it's healthy to carry 'vengeance' around with you like that."

"I kind of like it," Dawlian muttered, "except that I use an axe. Maybe 'the Blades of Vengeance,' so I still fit?"

"No, that's worse!" Madge said. "Seriously, we can stick with Golden Edge. It took us forever to settle on that last time. I'm not spending weeks trying to come up with a new name."

Mattimeus glanced at Gradible, who had shrunk back against the wall and summoned up a shadow to hide himself. Whether it was intentional or instinctual Mattimeus wasn't sure, but either way he didn't seem to have any useful input to provide.

"All right," Mattimeus said soothingly, "we'll stick with the Golden Edge. I suppose keeping the old name also serves as a tribute to our fallen, in its own way. I have the updated party charter, so if everyone can leave their mark, I'll turn it in, we'll have a brief discussion of tactics, and then I have our first descent scheduled for three hours from now."

Madge raised her eyebrows. "I know you said to come prepped, but we're really doing this? This quick?"

"Unless anyone has strong objections," Mattimeus said, "we are. Drills are well enough, but I've always said that real combat is the only way to practice real combat. We'll stay shallow for now, but I see no reason for further delay." Corpses don't get less dead the longer you wait, and my recent kill list doesn't get less incriminating. I need to be in the dungeon as soon as possible.