Wayte awoke in his own bed on the outskirts of town. Upon waking, he looked around for his wife, she wasn’t to be seen. Rising, he moved to a basin of water and began to wash himself as he looked out the window, the early afternoon light streaming through it, ‘I must have overslept,’ he thought. Finishing the task of washing himself, he took hold of the basin to empty it and then noticed that the water was stained red with blood. Frowning, he tipped the water out the window as per normal and walked out the room, in search of some answers. His wife was at the stove preparing a meal, her back to him.

“Marianna, the basin, it was-“ he stopped short as his wife turned around and he saw his wife’s face and the dagger in her hand. Her face was bruised and several cuts were visible. It was then that he noticed that her dress too had tears freshly sewn up.

“Marianna!” cried Wayte, “What happened to you?” He reached out a hand to comfort her, but she pulled away quickly as if stung.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, “Who did this to you?”

Marianna turned on him, venom in her eyes, “You wretch! How can you have possibly forgotten? You did this to me you monster!” she screamed.

Wayte took a step back, confused. How could he have done this? The last thing he could remember was an argument with Birkett and a duel, but that was all. But in the dark recesses of his mind, he could dimly recall throwing the door open and seeing his wife smiling at him. But then he remembered tearing at her dress like an animal, lust roaring through his body, Marianna’s smiling expression turning to one of horror, her struggles; he was telling her to stop, that it was ok. But then he remembered raising his arm, ready to strike and – Wayte gasped. It was him. He had come in here and he had been a monster. He slumped to the floor. Marianna, seeing nothing of the monster in the man on the floor dropped her dagger and went over to Wayte and knelt beside him. She took his hand and stroked his face as sobs wracked his body, his mind tortured with the screams of his wife and images of him breaking one of the most sacred vows of marriage.

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Sometime later, Wayte arrived at the guards’ barracks, his expression tight and determined. Marianna had understood when he had explained what Draycott was capable of. It was her demand that he continue to follow this path and continue to support Dmitri and Claudia. They were the only hope for this damned city. If he gave up now, she would have suffered for nothing. In return, he demanded that she leave the city, go to the French and seek sanctuary. She agreed and their parting kiss was strong and lingering.

Upon arriving at the barracks, Wayte sought out Mattief. Having only been with the guards a limited time, he shouldn’t be as affected by Draycott as Birkett was. Wayte found him playing dice with two other guards who quickly excused themselves after seeing the thunderhead that was Wayte.

“I need to know what they did to me.” Wayte said without preamble.

“Look,” replied Mattief, “Don’t involve me, you got yourself into this mess.”

Wayte slammed his fist on the table, “Tell me!” he demanded.

“Alright, alright, calm down,” started Mattief. “Draycott assembled us and told us that you had become a traitor. But since we need every man that we’ve got, he didn’t want you killed. So he attacked you in the way it would affect you most; morally. I don’t know how they did it, but together Draycott and Arcaedus took control of you. They made it so we could see through your eyes in the reflection of a basin of water.”

“Why didn’t anyone put a stop to it?” Wayte demanded.

“Well, some of the guards were muttering but Draycott and Arcaedus looked up, their eyes had changed, Arcaedus’ was a pure white instead of that odd smoky white it normally is. Draycott’s were black as pitch. Everyone went silent; the threat was clear. Obey or be punished.”

Wayte stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists, then turned and left. Mattief leapt up and ran towards the keep. Racing through corridors, he reached Draycott’s room where he told Draycott of his conversation with Wayte.

Draycott mused this for a moment, “It seems he hasn’t learnt from his lesson. Very well, thank you for letting me know. We may have room for a promotion sooner than expected.”

Mattief bowed and left the room, leaving Draycott to plan.