Seth twirled the knife in his hands, taking special care to avoid any contact with the blade's strange steel. "To be honest, it doesn't look like much."

"Ahhh, ah, yes. Yes, I admit as much," replied the wisp of a man. "But...but I assure you it is exactly what you're looking for. I went to great, yes, very great lengths in order to confirm its identity. That is...I assure you."

Seth covered his amusement with a false cough. Teckins may have been the most nervous man he had ever met. Beside him, Jeveen sat with fingers steepled over her knee, staring the man down with a singular raised brow. "Very well then. Here is your payment." Seth reached into a thin pocket hidden away on the inside of his leather jerkin and pulled out a shiny white disk. He paused, then twirled it between his fingers. Light from a tallow candle sitting atop a small table reflected off the spinning coin. "You're absolutely sure this is the King's Dagger?"

The question hung between the two men like a noose, both understanding its purpose. It was a question that ended with a shit-filled-ditch and an expertly carved throat if the answer weren't wholly, completely, and unequivocally true.

Teckins shivered slightly as he answered, but nodded. "Yes...er, ahem...yes. Absolutely sure."

Seth held his gaze for a moment longer, letting him squirm, and then flicked the coin to the appraiser. Teckins fumbled the pearled gold for a moment before clasping it inside his sweaty palms. A twitchy smile tickled the man's face as he stared at the currency. "Are you really planning to...to—"

"You may go now, Teckins. Should I need anything else from you, I know exactly where to find you."

The stray dog of a man quickly bowed, tucked the payment into his satchel, and walked backwards out of the room with a mumbled, "Th-thank you, sir—my sir, er, farewell."

Seth listened to the man click and clack his way down the hard wooden steps and out the door. When he heard the door shut, a great sigh of relief escaped his mouth and filled the hollow silence that had built inside the room.

All that time for this.

"It really doesn't look like much," echoed Jeveen, eyebrow still in its balconied position.

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An insignificant pattern on the handle. A steel that seemed almost pale. But that was it. He'd probably not give the blade a second look had he passed it in Devil's Market.

"It's perfect," he replied.

Seth peeled his eyes from the dagger and looked out his window at the dense cesspool of a city. Jeveen, knowing his thoughts, glanced at the window and said, "This is what we've been waiting for, boss. You did it."

"We did it."

"Maybe so, but the rest of the Company are out there waiting in some shit tavern fighting and drinking and Sellek knows what else." She scratched at her temple with a dirty fingernail. "You never wavered. Never lost hope."

That familiar ache welled up in his chest, like a breath of smoke he couldn't release. "Lost some good ones along the way though, didn't we? Can't blame them for growing some doubt after so long and so much missing."

Jeveen ignored the comment. "But now we finally have it. Our ticket to freedom." Her eyes twitched as they narrowed. "To revenge. And in the ruthless hands of the Captain of the Shrouded Company, no less." She stood and clapped a calloused hand on his shoulder. "It's all going according to plan, boss."

Seth tightened his grip on the hilt of the blade and allowed himself an overdue smile. Jeveen was right. It was all finally going according to plan.

But plans have a way of falling apart.

From the corner of his peripheral, he noticed the shape of the candlelight's dance of shadows alter ever-so-slightly. Unnatural, that.

Seth spun with an assassin's instinct and hurled the blade at the silent intruder. The witch burst into a spiral of black ash a moment before the blade could make impact. It stuck into the oak plank behind her with a dull thud.

Behind him, he heard her swirl into existence and smelled the sulfur and burnt flesh that announced her rematerialization.

Seth made to shout for Jeveen to flee, but his words froze as icy fear filled his chest. Or at least that was what he thought until the ice exploded into a searing fire. As his head bobbed, he noticed the large blade jutting from the flesh beyond his heart.

"Well, shit," he coughed, feeling the witch's weapon slide out of his chest. Seth fought to remain standing, but only managed to keep himself from falling fully prostrate, landing hard onto his knees. From far away, he heard the sound of Jeveen screaming his name, but could not for the life of him find the strength to answer her.

Then Seth, son of Jareth, Captain of the Shrouded Company—eyes staring at the blade he had gone through so much trouble to find—thought of the men and women waiting for him at the tavern, and of the wife and two children he had buried. He felt a sad smile stretch across his face, sighed, and then he died.