It took them until the late evening to reach the crafters' district and find Wesley's smithy. From afar, and in the gloom of the moonlight, the open smithy looked like a small portal to the fiery hells, as Wesley was obviously the only one still working and the hot coal of the smith's hearth glowed an ominous dirty yellow through the thick smoke.

Wesley was at the anvil, hammering red-glowing metal into form. He didn't look up, and Sieg waited patiently for him to finish before speaking.

The farrier was as heavy of stature as you would expect from anyone who lived by this trade. But as he finally looked up, squeezing out a short "whatcha want?" in a hoarse voice, Bolverk couldn't help himself but voice his own thoughts at the sight of his square, roughed face.

"Gods above, Master Wesley," Bolverk exclaimed, leaning in to see his face better in the light of the fire. "I bet if ya didn't have yer anvil around, yer could still straighten the horseshoes on that cheek instead all day!"

Siegfried covered his face behind his hand while Agnar silently took a step away from Bolverk.

Alas, to their surprise, the burly smith let out a burst of roaring laughter and clapped the older guard on the shoulder. "Ye're a man of me own heart, master warden! How can old Wesley be of help?"

As Bolverk had apparently found a kindred spirit in the Ferrier, he did the rest of the talking, explaining to Wesley what had transpired so far and what kind of information they needed.

"Ack, that be a useless search ya doin'! Boy's a worthless, lazy bum, might even be that he's laying with that lass ya heard about. They be both just coming back when he's out of money again, and then he'll get a good whacking, believe me! Why ya think I'm still out here after sundown? Need tha work his part too now, ungrateful wretch!" he complained.

At this point, Svana intervened, moving her more petite form into the light of the fire, showing a well-faked look of concern on her face. "Oh, Master Wesley, wouldn't you have a hunch of where those two could be hiding away? Even if they are not lost, I would at least like to make sure the poor girl isn't taken advantage of if such a disreputable young man is after her. You know a young girl in love can ruin her future over something like this."

Her performance seemed to have an even better effect than Bolverk's as the grim-looking brute had to get ahold of himself for a moment before he could answer, trying hard to keep his eyes from her form-fitting leathers and on her own eyes instead.

No one noticed the flash of cold disgust in Svana's eyes. A tiny slip of her usual facade, instantly hidden again behind her smile.

"Ah, 'course that be a tragedy, can't have that now, can we? I mean, ah - dunno where they'd go at night, but ya could ask her out, uhm— aunt I mean," he stammered, fidgeting in his soot-covered leather-apron in evident embarrassment. Mercifully, Svana saved him from having to think of another sentence to add by providing him with a direct question.

"Thank you, Master Wesley. Would you also know where we can find this aunt of hers?" she asked sweetly. Hanging onto the grace of a question that required a simple answer, the smith gave them the directions immediately, lest he forgets the question if he pondered.

"Sure, miss, just back tha way ya came till ya see a tanner's rack 'n front of a wooden shack, then on ya right, the small road all tha way till ya come on a square with a well in the mid and there on tha left side's a big house o' stone, 'n flowers outside, can't miss it, miss," he rapid-fired without taking a breath.

"That's perfect. Thank you again, Master Wesley, you have been a great help. Have a good night then. We must be on our way." Svana let him off with a straight face, although everyone but Hall and the poor smith knew how hard she must be trying to keep herself from bursting in laughter. "Yes, yes, thanks too, good thigh - ahh night too, miss," he brought out before they left for the given directions.

As soon as they were out of sight and earshot, Svana broke into a fit of laughter. While Bolverk shot her a stern look, Siegfried just shook his head, a corner of his mouth lifting slightly, defying his will to keep it straight.

"Told ya, Hall… a wolf in sheep's clothing, that woman. Poor lad will wallow in shame for the next hour, repeating every word he said again and again in his head." Bolverk grumbled.

"Oh c'mon, Bol', I got the results, didn't I?" Svana replied with a mischievous smirk.

"Anyway," he continued, "ya all got yer fun, but we need to come down and get serious again. It's dark already, and we don't want to hunt a murder or worse in their own territory. Still, as it could be a changeling, we can't delay trying to get information on it. We try to get a lead from that lady and be off to the next guardhouse. We can follow up on that tomorrow, or if we get evidence that it's a changeling, inform the Red Brigade right away and be off for good."

And that, for the first time since they left the market square, brought Hall out of his quiet. "We wouldn't bring them to justice ourselves? You told me Siegfried bested one of them alone. We are six guardsmen, and one of them killed a changeling by himself!" he argued in a heated, albeit still respectful tone. Bolverk's eyes hardened.

"Now listen good Hall, because I will only tell this once," the veteran guard stated. All of the fatherly air that usually surrounded him turned into hard-edged oppressiveness— the easy-going tone replace by a professional, commanding one.

"I will not risk the lives of good men and women for a possible suicide mission that is beyond the scope of our responsibility!" he barked. "This is what the enforcers of the Red Brigade are here for— they are trained for this kind of encounter, and they have the gift of Akali herself!

"Sieg fought that changeling two years ago because he had no other chance. That guy appeared from a side street directly in front of us and struck down a helpless civilian. There were more people behind us that he would have slaughtered like lambs if we bailed.

"I know you feel an even stronger hatred about those abominations than we do, but throwing your life away won't help. Finding them for the Red Brigade, so they can deliver justice, is what we can and will do!"

A lot of the heat in Hall's posture was gone after that. But a spark of defiance was still lingering. "Most of the enforcers are stationed behind the third sector. People might die before one of them arrives! Let us at least take a look at the threat, and then we can still decide to back up and get the Brigade!"

Bolverk knew that nothing he said had the needed impact for shutting down this ambition, so he resorted to the one thing he didn't want to use. "So you mean we just show up and take a look at him. And what if that particular changeling has a power like your brother did and can throw lightning or fire from afar at us? Do you know what we will do then? We'll all die, that's what we will do! You will not engage an unknown entity by yourself and endanger all of our lives for your careless desire of revenge, or I will make sure that you will never take up a guard's leathers again, is that clear?"

Hall had to swallow. The point had been made and finally received. "Yes, Sir!" he saluted with the right fist to his chest.

"Good…" Bolverk slowly turned back to the rest of his squad, his anger abating, the commanding tone remaining. "We don't expect trouble actively looking for us, but don't let your guard down. Defensive formation, Hall in the middle."

Without further words of coordination, Siegfried and Agnar stepped in front, Svana and Eirik behind them, taking Hall in their mid, and Bolverk brought up the rear guard.

After they turned into the small side street at the tanner's rack and away from the last sources of illumination, Hall had to admit that he was glad to be the one being protected in the middle.

The cold, worn stone walls of the buildings loomed too far over them for any moonlight to touch the narrow dirt path. Bolverk lit their only oil lantern, which glimmered unsteadily through the old, dirty glass pane and let shadows jump randomly around them. Every corner was filled with crates, doorways, more alleys and other opportunities for someone (or something) to get the jump on them.

At least Svana seemed to be as nervous as Hall was, judging from her stiff posture.

The only sound accompanying them was their own steps and the occasional splat when someone stepped in a puddle. In the gloomy, swaying light of the lantern, Eirik's stoic face was lit and shadowed again as if his features were constantly transforming, and Hall's imagination caused a bead of sweat to run down his forehead.

He didn't know them all that well. He wouldn't be able to tell if one of them acted just a bit different than usual. If one of them wasn't who he claimed to be.