"So, if all we're doing is delivering a chest full of treasure, why are we in uniform?"

Giradin rode with Shlomo, Mu, and Fulk to the city of Kinhan. Fulk rode at the front, leading the way to their destination. The sun beat down on them, baking them in their black uniforms. On the horizon, they saw dark clouds moving in. Giradin welcomed the rainstorm that was sure to come with those clouds, if only to give him some relief from the heat.

Mu chimed in to answer Giradin's question, "Two reasons. First, we don't want people to identify us. If the townspeople find out we're plague doctors it's better if we look just like every other Crow, so no one comes after us with a vendetta. Second, because we're going to a city, and in cities there's almost always someone with plague."

"Cities are disgusting..." Shlomo muttered and his shoulders shivered.

The city gates lay ahead, wide open. Guards stood on either side of the main gate, leaning on their spears as they ate chunks of bread and cheese they held in fingers covered in black and brown dirt.

When the guards saw the four plague doctors approaching, they stuffed their snacks into their pockets and crossed their spears in front of the open gate.

"What's your purpose in Kinhan?" one of the guards asked when Giradin and the others drew close.

Mu raised his hands to show he held no weapon, and therefore no ill will. "Easy, messere. A few days ago, we witnessed a last will and testament for a man dying of plague. We're here to deliver a small inheritance."

The guard's eyes flashed with greed, and a smirk formed on his lips. "Is that so? Well, for anyone whose not a citizen there's a toll to enter the city."

Fulk grunted. "We don't have time for this shit! Let us pass, or I'll bash your bloody head in!"

The guard shook his head and scowled at Fulk. "Threats will get you nowhere."

Shlomo trotted forward and rested a hand on Fulk's shoulder. "Easy there. Please, let me handle this." He turned his dark lenses to the guard. "You're quite a courageous young man, aren't you?"

The guard opened his mouth to argue at first, but a confused look on his face choked his words. The confusion soon turned to pride, and he swelled out his chest. "Yes. Yes I am."

Shlomo nodded. "Well, that's just grand! You know, we could use a courageous young man like you among the Crows. I might just have to conscript you."

"Conscript me?" the guard repeated, his spear lowering just an inch.

"Yes." Shlomo reached into his coat pocket and produced a rolled slip of paper. "By order of the king, I am allowed to conscript anyone who is not a nobleman's heir. Your courage in the face of my companion's threats has proven you worthy of this great honor."

"It has?" The guard said, his eyes darting back and forth nervously. "What if I... don't want to be a Crow?"

Shlomo shrugged. "I'm not sure what you want really matters. This decree gives me the authority to conscript, and since that authority comes from the king any refusal to join the plague doctors is basically treason. I'd hate to have to write to his majesty to tell him... Oh..." Shlomo snapped his beak to the other guard, "What's your friend's name?"

"Raynald," said the other guard. The first one glared at him, as if he were trying to tear him limb from limb with his eyes.

"Raynald," Shlomo repeated. "I'll have to remember that. Raynald. Raynald. Anyway, I'd hate to write to his majesty and tell him that Raynald, the gate guard at Kinhan, has refused conscription. He'd be most displeased. Then again, if you proved yourself a coward, then I suppose I wouldn't really want to conscript you anyway."

Raynald looked between Shlomo and Fulk, the spear trembling in his hands. After a few seconds, he dropped his spear on the ground. "Please, don't hurt me!" he cried.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"That's what I thought," Fulk mumbled.

The two guards moved aside as the plague doctors rode through the city gates. They passed under the archway, with a grate in the ceiling above them. Giradin briefly relished in the relief the shade gave them.

Until the stench of the city hit him, even through his mask. The cobblestone streets were smeared with filth and urine, and the teeming masses of people were much the same.

"Dismount," Shlomo said.

The group of them climbed down from their saddles and tied the reins to hitching posts nearby. Fear filled Giradin's mind with a thousand worries when Neuhausen came flooding back into his mind.

"I know why we leave the horses--" he said, his fingers still clasped around the reins, "--but is it really necessary here? These streets are so filled with filth that horse shit hardly seems like it will matter."

Fulk unclasped the saddlenbag and carried it over his shoulder. "He makes a fair point, Shlomo. Why bother? Maybe it would be better to have our horses with us in case this goes wrong again." The murderer leaned in closer and whispered. "We don't have anyone to come to our rescue this time."

Shlomo shook his head. "We can't become part of the reason the plague spreads, no matter how small our part in that is."

Mu nodded. "Spreading sickness is the Devil's work."

Fulk shrugged. "Fair enough."

"Let's ask around," said Shlomo. "See if we can get anyone to tell us where Ivette lives."

When Giradin turned his attention to the citizens of Kinhan, he could tell this would be no easy task. The people shied away from the plague doctors, and hurried back to their homes to avoid them. Every question they attempted to ask was met with a frightful retreat, profuse apologies, and sometimes threats of violence.

Just after Giradin had been told that if he talked to a man's wife again her husband was going to chop him up and throw him in an oven, he heard a child's voice behind him. "Are you here to kill the vampire?"

Giradin turned and stared at a little girl in rags with dirt smudged on her face. In the alleyway behind her two little boys crouched in wait, their fearful eyes on the girl and Giradin.

"Vampire, you say?" Giradin repeated. He wondered for a moment if he should tell the little girl that vampires were just made-up, but he remembered his encounter with the vermin at Isselhan a while back. If rat monsters were real, the idea that vampires could be too didn't seem so unbelievable. Giradin crouched low in front of her so they were face to face. "I haven't heard about the vampire. Tell me more."

"Teebald hanged himself, he did," said the little girl. She pointed to a tall tree with thick limbs and strong branches. "Right there. That's where they found him. The sheriff said it was murder, but everyone else says it was suicide. They buried him in the graveyard behind the church."

Giradin looked over to the church, trying to see if he could spot the graveyard she spoke of.

"A couple nights ago--" the girl continued, "--some people say they saw Teebald walking the streets. His wife even said she looked out her window and saw him standing there one night."

"Are you sure she didn't just imagine it?" Giradin asked. "Sometimes, when we miss someone we love very much we see them even though they're not there."

"No!" the girl grunted and stomped her foot. "He's a real vampire! Teebald hated Mihill, the blacksmith, and now Mihill is dead! There have been other people Teebald's killed too. Please, you've got to do something!"

Giradin sighed. "I'll do what I can. But maybe you can help me too? Do you know where Ivette and her daughter Bethia live?"

A look of recognition crossed the little girl's face, but her smile faded immediately. "I'm not going to help you unless you help us first." She folded her arms and stuck her nose up in the air.

Giradin groaned and rose to his feet. "Fine. Let me talk with the other doctors and see what they say." He returned to the group and regaled him with the story the little girl had told him.

After the story was over, Shlomo said, "This may be worth looking into."

Fulk shook his head. "What next? You want us to check under children's beds for monsters too? It's not our concern to chase after every local legend."

"Maybe it is," said Mu. "We don't know for sure that it's just a legend. Maybe this is another symptom of the plague. It's worth investigating at least."

"To Hell with that!" Fulk folded his arms. "I'm not here to chase monsters, I'm here to fulfill Sir Bertran's last wishes. Or have you forgotten our real purpose here?"

Shlomo raised an index finger. "Ah, but I think you've not really thought your mission through, shegetz."

"Don't start!" Fulk pointed an accusing finger at the Jew. "Now you'll spout some weird, twisted reason why this whole living dead rumor is what Sir Bertran would have wanted..."

Repeated blows of a hammer on steel echoed off the houses. The two men raised their voices so they could still be heard over the noise.

"Well, didn't Sir Bertran want to make sure the girl was taken care of?"

"Damn it..." Fulk's shoulders sank and he hung his head.

Shlomo continued, "Why else would he want us to deliver that chest to her? And, if he cares so much about her well-being, wouldn't making sure there isn't a vampire or burglar on the loose in her city serve that goal?"

Fulk shoved Shlomo's shoulder. "Fine! You're right! Let's go see if there really is a vampire in Kinhan. Gah! Next we'll be chasing fairies and dragons!"