David woke up way too early. He couldn’t even have said why. Andrew, Nathan, and Greg were still sound asleep around him. Lane probably, too, but she had been put up with the other women, so he couldn’t be sure.

David yawned and turned onto his other side, to try and go back to sleep. He’d been up much longer last night than he had meant to, watching the eighteen juvenile werewolves in their cages, and he was tired. But sleep was elusive, and after he threw himself around the third time and almost woke Nathan, David gave up. He got dressed quietly and left the infirmary, which was stuffy with the smell of some herbs the healers were burning, until he stood in the door to the courtyard and could inhale the cool night air.

The courtyard was transformed, filled with the large carts of travelling merchants, just as Andrew had mentioned. Right now, all the shutters were closed, and all the wares hidden. The only light came from a handful of torches and the very first, cold, grey light of morning.

The only sound came from behind him, a soft but permeating, steady whine that echoed up the stairs and filled the empty main hall of the keep. A second voice became audible when David walked down the stairs to the dungeon, this one a growl, raising and falling with each step he took. When he rounded the corner, he saw a third werewolf that was chewing at her bars, even though they were solid steel. There were bits of broken teeth laying on the ground, and blood stained the fur around her muzzle.

David sighed to himself.

There was no hope for her. And it probably wouldn’t be a kindness, either, to wait.

Just one night ago, she had been a scared woman, still entering her cage willingly. There had been nothing special about her, but David remembered her frightened face clearly.

He walked down the rows of cells slowly. Some of the werewolves inside were sleeping despite the noise but most were awake. One young woman had curled in on herself and moaned: “Please, someone make them shut up.”

When David stopped at her cell, slightly surprised, she looked up and her mouth fell open in horror.

David didn’t say anything, just walked on. At the very end of the corridor, right before the one where Morgulon had given birth, there was another cell with blood glistening on the steel bars. This werewolf had tried to push his human head through until he had ripped nearly all his hair out and his skin was raw. He was still pushing, moaning quietly to himself. Only after a few seconds did he notice David. The moan became a snarl, and he threw himself forwards, crashing face-first into the grille, reaching with claw-like fingers.

David stood there for a few minutes, looking back down the hallway. Four werewolves, all gone mad in just one night. He didn’t even want to imagine what might have happened if he hadn’t told Fletcher to have them all locked up.

There was really no point in drawing this out, so he walked back upstairs to find George Louis. The duke was not amused when David had him woken. David wasn’t particularly sympathetic.

“Sun, David, do what you must,” George Louis eventually grumbled. “You of all people don’t need me to sign a warrant first.”

“I’d like to have that written down somewhere, if it’s all the same to you,” David gave back. “And I want a copy, too.”

George Louis glared at him, tightening his dressing gown around himself. After a minute of David just standing there, waiting, the duke sighed. “Fine, fine, you’re right,” he yawned, and yelled for a servant, ordering him to bring some briefcase and ink.

When the servant walked out again, George Louis sat down on his bed and patted the mattress. “You’re in a hurry?” he asked, all the anger gone from his voice. “You’re always welcome to join me, you know.”

David didn’t even look in his direction. “I’m about to kill four men and women who fought and risked their lives for us,” he said coldly.

George Louis fell quiet at that. “You know, I can make someone else do it,” he offered after a moment, voice serious now.

“Like the executioner at Eoforwic, who couldn’t even aim properly? Alvin told me it took Spencer over an hour to die. No thanks. The least we owe them is a swift death.”

“As you wish,” George Louis sighed.

The servant returned with a leather-bound folder and something to write with. George Louis got up from the bed and walked over to the table, leaved through the folder, and pulled out a pre-written document, added something at the top, signed it at the bottom, and added his own seal. A proper seal.

“Here,” George Louis said. “Will that do? This’ll permit you to issue crown warrants for werewolves on your own authority, and follow through on them.”

David scanned the text and nodded. “Thanks,” he said.

“Come back up here when – when you’re done. I have something else.”

David nodded and walked out. He dropped the accreditation off safely with his other stuff before going down to the cells again.

Lord Clermont was staring at the she-wolf who was still chewing at the bars when David returned.

“You’re up early, for a civilian,” the old general greeted him.

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David ignored him. “Have the keys to the cells ready,” he told a guardsman and took his crossbow off his back, checking it over with a glance.

He wanted to tell the she-wolf who was still trying to bite through the bars that he was sorry, wanted to apologize – but that was pointless.

As he had said to George Louis, the only kindness he could give her now was a quick death.

She made it easy, standing pressed up to the prison bars like that. He aimed carefully and shot her right behind the shoulder blade, then reached with his silver knife into the cell to cut her throat.

The werewolf in the next cell retreated, eyes rolling with terror, and struggled to turn human. David walked past him without looking at his staggering, contorted form, to the cell where a wolf was still keeping up that steady whine that cut like a saw in David’s ears. He, too, attacked the bars at the humans’ approach.

David shot him with his second bolt, hitting the chest again. “Keys!” he yelled at the guard.

The man opened the gate slower than necessary because he kept glancing at David. Even Lord Clermont inhaled sharply when David marched into the cell to put the poor creature out of its misery.

Two down, two to go. He felt sick, and disgusted with himself. His fingers shook slightly when he placed a new quarrel in the nut and used a spanning lever to tighten the string in one swift motion. His aim was perfectly steady, though, when he shot the third werewolf. This time, the guard didn’t hesitate to open the door for him.

The other werewolves kept very, very quiet, all of them in their human forms now, half of them naked. David walked past them as if he couldn’t see, to the last cell. At least the inmate didn’t seem to realize what was coming for him. David wasn’t sure if he could follow through if one of them should ever beg him to stop.

And then it was over.

“Have the bodies taken out of here,” David ordered the guard. “Make sure they’re burned and buried properly. With the men who succumbed to their injuries.”

“Because it’ll keep away the Rot?” the guard asked back.

Because that’s what they deserve, David wanted to say. Instead, he nodded and said: “Hopefully.”

Whatever made them do it.

He stayed just long enough to make sure that the order was passed on. He still ignored Clermont when he walked back towards and up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. He didn’t stop until he was standing in the courtyard, breathing the fresh morning air. By now, the castle was waking up and a bunch of soldiers were milling about, staring at him.

He could still smell the blood.

Probably because his hands were covered in it.

“That was impressive,” Lord Clermont said, stepping up beside him.

David sniffed. ‘Impressive’ was the last word he’d have used for what he had just done.

“If you want an old man’s advise: go get yourself a drink.”

David considered it. He was just about to shake his head when the old general grabbed his blood-soaked sleeve and pulled him over to the cart with the beer, surprisingly strong for a man his age. The owner was just opening up, fussing with his barrels. Lord Clermont towed David right up to the makeshift counter and banged his walking stick against it, making the proprietor spin around.

“You got anything stronger than beer?” Clermont asked.

Even the barkeeper frowned at that question, pointedly staring towards the east, where the sun was just raising high enough to shine over the still damaged walls of the castle.

“Yes, I know what time it is,” the old general answered the unspoken question, and dropped a silver coin on the counter.

The proprietor eyed the coin, then the old man, shrugged, and jumped off the cart, vanishing behind the back.

“Did you know them well?” Clermont asked David.

David shook his head mutely. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t throw up if he tried to speak.

“But they did fight with you against the Rot, didn’t they? That’s why you wanted their ashes buried with the other soldiers.”

David nodded.

Lord Clermont shook his head but this time made no comment about David being too nice. When the barman put down a glass in front of him and filled it with a clear liquid, he passed it on to David, almost pressing it into his hands.

David hesitated only a second before downing it. It did settle his stomach somewhat.

“Another one?” Lord Clermont asked.

David shook his head. The man on the cart had finally noticed the blood on his hands, so David pushed away before the guy could ask what had happened.

“Thanks,” he said, without looking at Clermont.

Again, the old man didn’t have a cutting remark.

“I need to clean up and find out what else the duke needs me for,” David added. “I expect you’ll be coming to Breachpoint with us?”

“I’ll be there, yes.”

David left him standing in the courtyard. When he got to the keep’s door, he had to wait to let the two soldiers pass who were carrying out one of the dead wolves.

The smell of food coming from the refectory made him gag, so David barged up the stairs, ignoring the startled cries of the two nuns who had to jump out of his way. By the time he reached the infirmary for those soldiers still fighting death, he had mostly wrestled his stomach back down.

A healer looked at him, noticed the blood on his hands, and came hurrying over.

“Not mine,” David forced out through gritted teeth. “Werewolf blood. I need to wash up.”

“Of course,” the healer said. He waved at one of the apprentices, and a moment later there was a large basin with scalding hot water in front of David, together with a bar of strong lye soap.

David washed his hands and cursed softly when he realized how much he was still shaking. No wonder the healer was still standing next to the basin, watching him.

“Better get rid of the shirt, too,” the man said while David was scrubbing his hands.

David stared at the blood-drenched sleeves and then hurried to take the shirt off.

“Should I have that burned with our other dangerous wastes?” the healer asked. He calmly held out a hand but made sure he only touched the clean parts of the fabric when David gave the garment to him. He dropped it into the silver-coated bucket the apprentice had brought. Where the bloodstains touched the metal, the fabric began to sizzle. The young apprentice watched with surprise and curiosity until the healer gently turned him towards a large flame.

“Thanks,” David muttered and turned back to the wash-basin to get the blood off his wrists.

“You’re welcome,” the healer said. The old man watched him a moment longer and then took one of David’s hands in both of his before he could scrub the skin raw. “That’ll do,” he added. “I realize this is not a good moment to ask, but I need to know: Are our patients still safe to be around?”

David blinked and only now realized that most of the soldiers who still needed the healers’ care had been so badly injured that Morgulon had bitten them.

“They’ll be fine until the first night of full moon.”

“And after that?” the healer wanted to know, offering David a clean cloth to dry his hands.

“Chances are fifty-fifty after that,” David said, and then remembered the latest journal he had received. “Unless –“

He paused himself. He probably shouldn’t say that, should he? It had all worked out for Alvin and Chandler, but he probably shouldn’t give these people hope so uncertain?

“Unless what?” the healer asked.

David stared down at his hands, and lowered his voice: “If they’re very young, their chances might be slightly better.”

“Oh,” the healer said. “But that is good news?”

“It’s not certain,” David said, still speaking softly. “I don’t understand the details myself. I just receive reports from the learned men at Deva University, and there was an argument over the numbers in their last one.”

“I see,” the healer said.