“I really should put on my armor,” Sarah said, wrapping her arms around her chest. “I feel naked without it.”

“Only you could feel naked in a gambeson,” Shiro muttered. “Do you want to spook the weasel?”

“Fine,” Sarah said with a sigh. “No armor, but,” she flexed her wrist, drawing a sword from the bracelet, “the sword stays.”

Puck stared wide-eyed at the bickering duo, and for a moment he wanted nothing more but to steal the young woman’s bracelet — he was sure that, if he could sell it, he’d be set for life. He clamped down on the urge, eying the Reaper warily. Puck most assuredly did not want his head to be squashed like a melon.

They were close enough to the manor, and Puck couldn’t help but wonder who he’d wronged to deserve this fate. The two behind him were dangerous, and with every step he considered just bolting — getting caught up in their business was probably a bad idea.

A hand on his shoulder woke him up from his thoughts. “Hey, are you alright? You look pale,” Sarah said softly, trying to calm the boy.

“Oh, yes! Yes, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about,” Puck said.

“So, the manor?”

“Oh! It’s that one over there,” he said, pointing at a large, ornate building with carved columns on the exterior. “I’ve, uh, never been closer than this. There’s guards at the entrance, and patrolling the nearby streets.”

“Not the safest place for a street rat,” Sarah mused.

“Nope,” Puck agreed. “So, if you don’t need me anymore, can I go now?” he asked anxiously.

“Not yet,” Shiro replied. “We might need you still.”

Puck’s face fell. ‘Oh.”

Ignoring the disappointed youth, Sarah watched the manor warily. “Let’s get a bit closer, then we can figure out what we’re doing.”

“Lead the way, kid,” Shiro said, giving the young thief a light push.

Sarah snickered. “’Kid,’ he says. As if you’re not a kid yourself.”

“Privilege of being the older kid,” he replied, elbowing her in the ribs.

Puck continued uneasily along the street, eventually ducking into the bushes as they got within sight of the manor’s entrance. “This is as far as I can take you,” the boy whispered, barely mouthing the words, afraid of the guards hearing him over the silence of the night.

“Right, so, what do we do now?” Sarah asked, inspecting the building from afar.

“It’s still your turn for an idea,” Shiro said.

“Well, I don’t know. I was expecting there to be some obvious solution, like, a break in the hedge or a lit open window.”

“Are you sure you’re the older one between us? Because I’m not convinced,” Shiro complained, shaking his head.

“Hey, the plan’s coming! I just need to, like, let it cook for a bit.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But, yeah. We can’t let Every continue, especially if he’s being sheltered by the governor. Double especially if the count is behind this. We need to play this carefully,” Sarah said, narrowing her eyes as she looked at the pair of guards standing in front of the entrance.

“Sneak in the middle of the night, maybe?” Shiro suggested.

“I… don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sarah replied with a grimace. “I might be able to sneak a bit, with my Dexterity, but you’ll be caught in a jiffy.”

“I got nothing, then,” Shiro grunted.

“Maybe we could try the sewer thing?” Sarah asked.

“The sewer thing,” Shiro repeated, deadpan.

“You know, find a sewer, go in the direction of the manor and hopefully pop out in their cellar?”

“More like pop out of their toilet.”

“I’m serious!”

“You can’t blindly search through the sewers. You don’t even know if there is an exit under the manor.”

“Do you have a better—“

“Um, I don’t mean to interrupt,” Puck started, withering as the two Heroes focused their glares on him.

“Yes?” Sarah prompted, a bit more softly.

“You’re talking about getting in the manor, right?”

“Yes,” Shiro confirmed impatiently.

“Well, you look like you’re important people, so,” Puck closed his eyes, “can’t you just walk up to the front door?”

Shiro scoffed. “That’s—“

“That’s actually a pretty good idea,” Sarah interrupted, waving away Shiro’s disbelieving look. “It’s the diplomatic route!” she explained excitedly.

“Are you ever going to stop pretending we’re in a game?”

“It’s worked so far, right? And, anyway, it’s still a good idea.”

“Is it, though,” Shiro said skeptically.

“Yes. Well, not both of us, but yes,” she said, taking a breath before moving on with the explanation. “So, I go out, armor up, get the deaddies, and march up to the door, all ‘honor guard’-like,” she said, mimicking the shape of people marching with her fingers. “At the same time, you and Puck and the dead birds, you all keep an eye on the mansion in case the weasel bolts.”

Shiro tilted his head, considering the plan.

“What if he bolts and we don’t catch him?” he finally asked,

Sarah shrugged. “We can wait a bit to come up with a better plan — but then again, he could hear about us poking about anyway and then he’ll bolt.”

“Fine,” Shiro agreed. “We go now, then?”

“It should take me maybe half an hour to get the minions. You two find some good spots to sightsee, maybe. I’ll tell the birds to fly around and make some noise if they see anyone running or sneaking,” Sarah said, and then she was gone.

Puck made himself comfortable as he sat on a broad oak’s branch overlooking the governor’s mansion. He hadn’t even agreed to help the two, but it seemed the point was moot anyway — there was no way he had the guts to tell either of them ‘no.’

He waited patiently while his eyes scanned the streets surrounding the mansion. He’d acted as a lookout before, back when he had run with a crew — it was the customary task to give to a young sneak like him. But back then, the consequences for failure didn’t seem nearly as bad as disappointing those two.

Not to mention, the guards patrolling the area had some very pointy-looking spears, and he could almost imagine himself skewered by one. Not a pleasant image at all.

A disturbance in the distance made Puck crane his neck towards the east, trying to get a better look at the incoming group. The girl had said she would return with an ‘honor guard’, whatever that was, so he wasn’t surprised to hear the heavy thud of marching soldiers.

Puck’s blood ran cold as soon as they came into view, and the shock caused him to almost slip from the branch. Barely catching himself at the last moment, he prayed to every god he’d ever heard of that the Deathbringer hadn’t seen him.

The Deathbringer marched ahead of two rows of the walking dead, the rhythm of its footsteps reaching thunderous levels as it approached the small plaza before the mansion.

Why is the Deathbringer here? Puck wondered silently, clutching onto his branch for dear life. Why’s the girl not here yet? Did the Deathbringer kill her?

Puck glanced towards the other side of the plaza, where the Reaper laid in wait behind the bushes. Did he expect this? Are they going to fight?

To his surprise, the Deathbringer entered the manor’s courtyard, shoving past the two bewildered guards, and planted its sword in the ground before crossing its arms in front of its chest.

The armored demon did not bother to knock or speak — it merely waited, and it took mere moments before a disheveled man stumbled out of the manor, a lit lantern hanging from his hand.

Words were exchanged — Puck couldn’t hear them, not from that distance, but the Deathbringer’s steel-like voice echoed throughout the plaza. He was so entranced by the animated exchange happening below him that he almost missed the piercing shriek of a crow resounding into the night.

It broke the boy from his trance. The Reaper had mentioned this before sending him off — to be on the lookout if he heard a bird crying out, but he hadn’t expected a ghastly wail like this.

Focusing, he redoubled his vigilance, reluctantly looking away from the showdown in front of the manor.

And then he saw it, a shadow moving in the corner of his eye, dashing away from the manor’s servants’ entrance. Afraid of letting the two monsters down, he leaped from his branch, briefly touching the manor’s fence with his feet to propel himself towards the running figure. Landing messily with a late roll, he used his remaining momentum to sprint after his quarry — just another sneak job, he told himself, trying to forget about the Reaper and the Deathbringer waiting nearby.

Puck chased after the running man, who kept stumbling over his robe. The boy couldn’t help but smirk inwardly — leave it to a noble to put fashion over function.

His amusement was, however, short-lived, because he wasn’t the only one chasing the man. Puck barely stopped in time as a black figure blurred from his right, sailing over the fence and landing right on top of the fleeing noble. The ground cracked as the Deathbringer crashed down from above, and the poor fellow’s limbs flailed uselessly as his head twisted in shapes it was never meant to have.

Puck scrambled to a halt, falling on his bum, and tried to scurry away before the armored monster could see him — but he froze on the spot as the Deathbringer’s gaze pinned him where he stood. Once again, Puck began quietly praying, dearly hoping the Deathbringer’s taste for blood had been sated already. Then, to his surprise, the monster removed its helmet, revealing the girl from before.

Puck stared slack-jawed as the girl — the Deathbringer — ran a gauntleted hand through her hair, a disappointed frown on her face.

“Ah, damn,” she sighed, “I forgot how squishy people are.”

The Reaper’s voice rang out from behind. “I hope you didn’t want to interrogate him.”

The Deathbringer shook her head and offered the fallen Puck her arm. Too afraid to disobey her, he clutched onto the armored hand, letting himself be lifted up as if he were a sack of feathers.

“Sorry you had to see that,” she said towards Puck, her lips pressed into a tight smile.

Puck could do nothing more but stare. “I think you scarred him for life,” the Reaper commented, leaning casually on the fence.

The Deathbringer rolled her eyes. “At least it was me and not you. Better limp than red mist.”

“What about the governor?” the Reaper asked, turning serious.

“Had the wights hold him. He was kind of a mess, though. I’m not sure he realized what he was getting into.”

“So, Count Malloc wasn’t involved?”

“Hard to say. We can take him with us, maybe the Boss can help with piecing the stuff together.”

They continued to talk, but Puck wasn’t paying attention anymore. The night’s events had left him woozy, and the skipped meals hadn’t helped in that regard.

He went to sit down on a nearby patch of grass, leaning back against the decorative tree. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, the Deathbringer was hovering over him, snapping her fingers to get his attention.

“Hey, kid,” she said softly.

“Puck,” he said, and his heart felt like it had stopped when he realized just who he had corrected.

“Puck,” she started again, clueless of the horror inside his head, “I was really impressed by how you acted this night. You’re a very good little sneaky fellow.”

“Uh…” he replied dumbly, “thanks?”

“I’d like you to come with us. I’ve got use for resourceful guys like you, and it pays well, too.” She frowned and smacked herself in the face. “Ugh, I forgot,” she said, and a cloth bag materialized in her outstretched hand, offering it to the boy. “Here, you look like you’re barely hanging on. And think about my offer, okay?”

Puck stared as the Deathbringer left, then opened the bag to reveal a veritable cornucopia of sweets and pastries — more than he’d ever eaten in his entire life. Forgetting all about his apprehension, he stuffed his face with the baked goodness, almost forgetting to even breathe.

When the Deathbringer came by later to ask about his decision, he took a gamble and said yes.

After all, bringer of death or no, someone who could give him that much food couldn’t possibly be a bad person, right?