The man twirled his umbrella around joyously, seeming to be in a world of his own. He bent down, with some difficulty, and patted the hounds fiercely, both man and animal enjoying the exercise. After some time of this, he shooed the dogs and pulled a little watch out of his coat, and let it dangle on its chain.

"Tut-tut," he said. "That's enough waiting, I believe." He closed the umbrella and tied the string around it to keep it closed, holding it between his knees. The man made a circle with his hands, put them to his mouth, and shouted. "I would like to negotiate the release of the man in our employ. Come on, fellows, there's no need for all this lollygagging. Let's get this done and go home."

Inside the fort, Sergeant Davies was loading up his spare pistol, all the while keeping an eye on his prisoner. Pritchett, who had walked inside the little encampment to get away from the smiling man and his dogs, now stared through a small hole in the wall. "He's just standing there. Maybe we should give him the prisoner."

"Aye, if I decide to do it, then we'll do it." said the Sergeant.

"Well, what are we waiting for? The prisoner already talked, and the more we wait the more it's likely the big guy outside will have the rest of his troops show up. Like the dogs are not enough to worry about." said Ben. The dogs were barking and running, tugging at each other. If not for their distorted forms, they even could be mistaken for regular pets at play. Too bad for the golden ichor dripping off their flanks and the exaggerated fangs better suited for sharks than anything walking on land.

"Aetna is out there. We wait for her to make the first move." said the Sergeant. "I expect she'll put that big bastard down any minute down."

"That's asinine. Let's just give him what he wants. We can negotiate and get out alive." said Ben.

"You wanted him in the first place, Everett. As far as I'm concerned this is on you. If we weren't slowed down carrying an extra body, we could have sent somebody ahead on the horse and avoided this mess."

"We could've died with them and get abandoned anyway," Ben replied.

"They evacuated, just like we would have done if not for you."

"Evacuated, right. That's why there's a cart trail on the beach. There's no reason why they couldn't do to people what they did to animals." Ben said.

This landed badly with the Sergeant. He flew at Ben, grabbing him by the collar, pushing the barrel of the pistol underneath Ben's jaw. Spittle flew from the Sergeant as he pushed out the words. "I did as ordered. I carried you around with me as I went and did my job and had to listen to your whining the whole damn. You want to talk to him? Go ahead." He said and pushed Ben out of the fort.

Ben stumbled as he was pushed, and fell straight on his back. He sighed, getting irritated with how things were going. He regretted now making a go at freedom by diving in the river when he had the chance. Well, he supposed he could run for it now, but the river being raised by the rains, he might as just find the nearest puddle and drown himself in it. It would achieve the same result without having to go through the whole ordeal.

"Are you all right there?" the man shouted from the ridge. "That looked a tad nasty."

Ben waved a hand at him. "All good." He climbed to his feet and half crouched as he grabbed at plant roots to balance himself while he went up the ridge.

The hounds cleared a circle around him, most of them showing their fangs to ward him off.

"Don't worry, they won't bite. They're not as fierce as they look." said the man.

Ben thought of Grimby, dying slowly on the beach behind him.

"My apologies, I'm being rude." the man shoved a hand in Ben's face, and he took it. "Mr. Simms, happy to meet you."

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"Ben Everett."

"How are you on this beautiful day, Mr. Everett?" asked the man.

Ben looked at the sky, to make sure it did not turn sunny while his back was turned. Grey clouds still hovered above them.

"Oh, my apologies." the man put a hand over his mouth, seemingly embarrassed. "I did not specify your rank."

"No need," said Ben. "Completely new to this outfit, no rank to speak of, the bottom of the barrel."

"Now, that can't be true, they sent you here to negotiate the surrender." The man smiled sweetly while tapping the side of his head. "Now, you can't be that new if you've incurred those types of wounds. Don't try to pull one over on me." This all was said with only the soft undercurrent of acerbic wit that one might use to taunt a friend.

Ben, confused, lifted his hand and felt around his temple, following the man's movement. What was he talking about? But here it was, a small round scar above his left temple.

"Didn't know that was there," Ben said, trying to think back to when he would have gained that scar, but coming up short. "I arrived just a few days ago, did not have a lot of time to look in a mirror." There was something quite strange about the man. Ben's thoughts were heavy, compounded by the exhaustion of the past few days, and the lack of sleep. He found it exceedingly difficult to think.

The man's words faded into the background as he kept on talking and smiling.

Ben felt a pinch in his arms as the wrappings grew tighter around him, causing mild pain. Alert again, he promptly shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry, I missed that last thing you said," Ben said.

"I said that's not true. You have the look of someone that's been around for quite a while now."

"Aren't we supposed to talk about the prisoner exchange?" asked Ben, suddenly uncomfortable with the whole endeavor. He could feel a headache coming in.

"Is your venerable commanding officer going to entertain any exchange?"

"He's just a Sergeant, and I don't believe so. It's been a hard few days. The question is what are you offering us?" said Ben.

"Hand over Mr. Radvick, and I will vouch for your safekeeping," said Mr. Simms.

There was rustling in the thicket of trees behind him. Ben leaned to get a good look, but Mr. Simms stepped in front of him, smiling benevolently.

"Safekeeping, as opposed to what? If we don't hand over Radvick, what then? Will you take him by force?" asked Ben.

"Of course. He is part of our outfit, and while not the most crucial member, I am in charge of his safety. Now please, let's be reasonable. Nobody wants to hurt others were nor get hurt themselves. Give me Mr. Radvick and I will escort you to the nearest harbor and put you on a ship."

"Tempting," said Ben. "But can you tell me what happened to the people that occupied that fort a day ago? Did you also escort them to safety?"

"From what I've been told, there was a fight, and when it went badly your people retreated to their ship and escaped. Nefarious business, but it is war after all."

"War is it?" asked Ben. "Black suit and tie, that's no uniform I've ever seen."

"As opposed to your uniform, Mr. Everett, of a regional militia whose home is across the sea. I don't believe your jurisdiction reaches this far," said Mr. Simms. He put a palm to his forehead, massaging it. "I did not want it to go this badly. I don't know why you're on their side, as we both know you're not one of them. They'll toss you aside at any second. Whatever your mission here, it can't be part of the Accords."

Ben felt like he missed a step going down the staircase. "Accords? What are you talking about?"

"Did the Witch put you up to this?" asked Mr. Simms.

"I--" Ben stumbled on his words, not knowing what to say. Here was somebody that could provide information on what the hell was going on, but the man gave off a seedy vibe, with his stuffy wool suit and his forced smiles.

"Nevermind," said Mr. Simms. He looked back between the trees and made a signal. "The dogs are not the only things I've brought."

More men dressed in black stepped from behind the trees. A few of them were dragging somebody forward. Ben recognized Aetna as the men got closer. Half her face was covered in blood, with both her arms and legs bound in heavy iron cuffs. The mercenaries had some difficulty pushing the hounds away from her, as they barked and tried to bite at her.

"She killed two of my footsoldiers before they could take her. I stopped them before they sent her to meet the Makers. By my count, that's three of mine killed, and none of yours. I should add to that the burns Ferrox incurred in the fighting." said Mr. Simms.

"Ferrox?" asked Ben.

"The big hound. Prize of the pack, really. He took to the change better than any of the others. But that's not part of our discussion here. My terms are beyond generous. Give up Mr. Radvick, you get back your friend and you get to live. Now, I would like you to go tell your Sergeant these terms, and I beg of you to convince him to accept them. I do not take pleasure in watching good men and women die."

Ben turned to go back, and slipped on the rocks, nearly toppling over. He looked back at Mr. Simms, holding the umbrella in front of him, pushed down into the ground. His mercenaries stood on either side, rifles pointed towards the fort. The hounds were twitching in their excitement as they smelled the violence in the air. Things were on the brink of turning very bad, very fast.