The great hall of the Rotwald keep was in an uproar tonight. A lavish feast was being held by the Duke in celebration of the successful defense of the city.

Long wooden tables were set up beneath the tall redwood pillars supporting the galleries on both sides of the three floor high walls of the room. Unlike the rest of the keep the great hall was meant to leave a lasting impression on the visitors as well as to accommodate large gatherings, so its design differed greatly from the rest of the drab fortification.

But even here the Rotwalds had kept useless decorations to a minimum. Only a scant few crimson red curtains hung from the ceiling to cover up the plain stone walls. Embroidered upon them was the family crest – a copper red tree on a field of white with a pair of crossed blood red halberds in the foreground. Other than these few scraps of cloth, the room had little to show for wealth and opulence that was commonly expected of the nobility.

In place of luxurious tapestries or fine paintings, the walls of the room were decorated with hunting trophies. The fearsome heads of bears, wolves and mountain lions implied a long running tradition of hunting and warfare in the family. Among these stuffed heads of forest animals even a few beasts of the more exotic kind could be found. There was nothing quite as distasteful as orc, ogre or troll body parts, but there were three wyvern heads on display. None of them looked to have belonged to a fully grown specimen, however.

While lacking the touch of gold and silver, more commonly found in the courts of nobles, these hunting trophies added their own sense of splendor. Just as the halls of dukes and kings often showed off their lord’s wealth by the virtue of expensive decorations and vibrant colors, the modesty of the great hall of the Rotwald keep stood as a testament to their long run ancestry and age old adherence to tradition. It was respectable, if a little bland.

At the far side of the room was the Lord’s Table. It stood on top of a platform, raised two steps above the ground. The guests were seated throughout the hall beneath it.

The long wooden tables ran in three rows with Diana’s party seated at the middle one, the closest to the Lord’s Table. They were surrounded on all sides by the merry laughter and easy going conversations of the Duke’s men, who looked to have taken to binge drinking the ale that kept being brought by up by the barrel from the cellars.

A few of the town’s militiamen were also present for good measure and in recognition of their contributions. They were seated further away, at the smaller tables in the corners of the room.

Victorian examined the empty Duke’s table on his right through the narrow slits in his helmet. The Devil had requested a private audience with Lord Steinfeld and so had left the rest of her party to attend the feast without her.

What is her intent, Victorian wondered. What would she discuss with that murderer that I was not meant to hear? What will the bargain be?

He looked the odd man out, face hidden beneath the helmet, but such was the request of Lady Albrecht. Victorian was to hide his identity, which, though probably guessed at by the Duke, was still of some value as a bargaining chip to her. So, in compliance with the Devil’s demands, he maintained his cumbersome disguise even as the rest of the guests around him indulged in the festivities.

Well, not all of them, actually.

The twelve handmaidens seated around his table seemed entirely removed from the merriment that was washing over the rest of the room. Not tense, not anxious and not bored. Rather, their expressions conveyed well practiced patience. It was as though this celebration was just something to sit through; something to endure.

Among the twelve expressions of stone and the one hidden behind a mask of iron, only Lemmy appeared to be truly partaking in the celebration. The giant man bellowed loudly as he pushed away his empty plate – the sixth of the evening – and waived for the servants to bring forth another serving.

By comparison, the handmaidens had barely tasted their food, and, given his circumstances, Victorian had not eaten at all. The cramps in his stomach – brought about by stress, rather than hunger – would not let up, as the paladin considered his current predicament. He was, after all, feasting at the table of the man that had slaughtered his father not a week ago.

“You seem tense, little man,” Lemmy told Victorian while leaning sideways so that a menial could reach his empty plate. Next to the towering man-demon the Duke’s servant looked like a meek child as he tried to squeeze himself below the raised arm of the burly guest.

“You think?” Victorian asked.

Lemmy grinned. “It is a feast!” he said, “You are supposed to enjoy it, right?”

“Right…” Victorian nodded at the closest handmaiden. “They don’t look to be enjoying themselves either.”

“Well,” Lemmy paused to take a bite out of a lamb’s leg. His teeth dug into the succulent flesh with an audible crunch. “They are on duty right now. So…” He chewed, with his mouth closed, thankfully. “You know, they have to stay focused. The killing could start at any moment.”

Victorian hushed his voice as he spoke. “But why did we even agree to this– this charade?” he said. “If Diana knew that the Duke was going to try and do something so reckless as to assault his own guests during the feast, then why come at all? This seems like and entirely pointless risk to me.”

Lemmy swallowed his food before replying. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “There is something you should know about our Master. Lady Albrecht, she takes joy in her work. It’s like how I really, really – really – enjoy fighting. Well, from what I have witnessed, she enjoys playing around with her victims.”

The Devil’s handmaiden, Julia, leaned forward in her seat as she addressed Lemmy. “You make her sound so sinister, My Lord.”

The demon stopped chewing. “I do?” Lemmy asked.

Julia’s charming yet cold smile drew in Victorian’s attention as she spoke. “Are we not doing the right thing by killing the Duke?” she asked. “Vengeance should be a sweet thing. I think it is perfectly fine to play around with the victim first.”

Somehow Victorian felt opposed to the idea of torture.

“You see,” Julia continued, “Our Master is a patient hunter. The intrigue, the diplomacy and the mystery – it is all a challenge to her: to break the strongest; to trick the wisest; to sew her strings onto the puppeteers – all of it without them taking notice.”

Victorian shook his head. “And if she has sent us into a trap–”

“Then she has already won,” Julia assured him.

Take a good look around, Lord Rotwald,” she gestured at the surrounding room. “Just as the Duke orders his men into action, we will slay them all.”

The talk of killing seemed to invigorate her otherwise cold expression. She was almost gleeful in how she presented her reasoning for it.

“If our Master gives the order, this will turn into a slaughter,” Julia said. “And if the Duke expects to ambush us, then all the more reason to spill blood. No one here is innocent.

All of these men–” she said and licked her lips, “–are dead. They simply don’t know it yet.”

Victorian recalled the parting words of the necromancer, Boniface. He warned me, Victorian realized. He knew what she was going to do to them. These are the men that will die because I lived.

Julia’s wicked smile grew as she continued. “This is not a celebration,” she said. “This is a funeral feast...”

The cold hearted assassin threw her gaze around the room until it landed on one of the Duke’s soldiers. In the blink of an eye, Julia’s expression changed to where she appeared almost innocent.

She smiled and waved at the flustered soldier who had taken notice of her. The gesture seemed to have confounded the man as he was sluggish to return the greeting.

His comrades were not so dumbstruck, however, as a clutter of cheers and jeering shot through the hall. The other men seated next to the soldier shoved him around out of jealousy.

If only they knew who she really was…

Having been noticed by such a beautiful woman, the soldier was slow to reply. His face reddened as he tried to fight back the incessant taunting of his friends, all the while basking in the attention given by the girl.

Lastly, Julia winked at the soldier. She then looked away and addressed Victorian, “… and all the corpses are attending.”

Julia raised her wine cup to toast the soldiers – who replied in kind – and mumbled to herself before drinking deeply from it, “They have no idea…”

Victorian’s heart sunk as he watched the golden haired assassin toasting her soon to be victims.

“Take heart, Vic–” Lemmy coughed and lowered his voice, “Victorian.”

He waited for Victorian’s response but received none.

Victorian was lost deep in his contemplations.

Lemmy pushed away his half-finished meal. “Well, I guess I am going for a walk.” He leaned in closer to Victorian as he rose from the table and whispered, “Call for me when the fighting starts. No, wait. I will probably hear it.”

Victorian watched Lemmy leave the feast hall. He then turned his attention to Leonora, who had been sitting behind the hulking man-demon.

With the Lemmy gone, Victorian edged himself closer to her. But before he could speak, the maiden raised her hand towards him strongly implying that he should keep his distance.

“What do you want of me,” Leonora asked. She kept staring straight ahead with a blank expression on her face.

Surprised by her cold response, Victorian paused before speaking. “I was actually meaning to ask you something, My Lady.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Have I… done something to offend you?” Victorian asked.

Leonora remained silent.

“If it is about the other day, then I want you to know that I am truly sorry. I acted rashly and–­­­­­­”

“Are you really looking to apologize now?” Leonora asked. “Because if you are, then don’t waste your breath. I have no forgiveness for people like you. You deserve none.”

“People like me?” Victorian asked. “I– don’t understand. Have we met before?”

“I’ve met many men like you,” Leonora explained. “Killed a fair few of them as well.”

She finally turned her head and stared him down with a fiery gaze in her eyes. “You may have pledged yourself to our violent cause,” Leonora said, “Yet you are a monster unlike any of us, Victorian.

I might be an assassin, but you are a killer; a murderer – a Templar.”

She slowly shook her head in disappointment. “You owe so much to so many... and I can’t punish you for what you have done. Do you have any idea of how much that infuriates me?”

Leonora pulled out a dagger and dragged its tip across the wooden table before her, carving a thin line into it. “She won’t even let me torment you for your sins,” she said. The Devil’s handmaiden then went on to slowly carving a few more.

Victorian observed her work in silence for a while before speaking again. “Who won’t let you punish me?” he asked.

“Forget what I said,” Leonora replied and carved another line into the table. “My hands are bound by my contract.”

“And if they were not?” Victorian asked. “What would you do?”

The handmaiden kept silent and continued with her petty vandalism.

Victorian reached out across the table for her hand in an attempt to stop her.

Leonora nimbly shifted the dagger in her hand around and plunged it into Victorian’s sleeve, piercing the cloth and pinning his arm to the table.

“You missed the hand,” Julia taunted her.

“Didn’t miss it,” Lenora scoffed as she withdrew her dagger. “She won’t let me harm him.”

Victorian eyed the ruined sleeve of his shirt. The dagger had struck close enough that he had felt the sharpness of the edge on his skin, but not a drop of blood had been spilled.

“I find myself at a disadvantage here, My Lady,” he said. “You imply that you know my past, but I have no idea of who you are.

How did you come into our Master’s employ?”

“I am a mistake,” Leonora replied and carved another line into the table.

“Who are you?” Victorian asked.

“A mistake,” she answered.

The dagger dug itself into the table and the sound of cracking wood followed.

“That is a cold way to put it,” Victorian suggested and reached out for her dagger a second time.

Leonora once more reacted by stabbing at his hand, but this time Victorian had expected it and withdrew it in time.

The handmaiden looked up at the young paladin. “That is the right way to put it,” she said and went back to vandalizing the table.

“I am a mistake. You are a murderer.” Leonora pointed her dagger at Julia, “She is a bloodthirsty bitch.”

“Why, thank you, sister,” Julia said and smiled.

“Lemmy is a glorified enforcer,” Leonora continued, “Bones – a heartbroken monster without a heart. Silphi – I don’t even know how to describe that creature…”

“You don’t seem to think too highly of your comrades,” Victorian noted.

“No,” Leonora managed a painful grin. “The truly terrible thing about this doomed world of ours is that we, the degenerates, monsters and broken things are the best people around. Everybody else is either too stupid, too cowardly or too lazy to try and change anything about it.”

Victorian nodded. “Perhaps you are right,” he said. “But then it is up to us to change it.”

“How can a coward like you hope to change anything?” Leonora asked.

Victorian winced beneath his helmet.

“Your desperation drove you to accept Diana’s offer,” Leonora said. “It was through no act of virtue or strength that you were granted her aid. No, you were granted a mercy.

But why? Why did my Master deem you fit to receive such a gift? What have you accomplished that merits so much attention from her? And why have you been granted the honor of standing beside us – to stand next to her?

Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see a filthy Templar dog that dragged his failing body at her feet; looked up with teary eyes and the Devil took pity on you.

Pathetic,” Leonora scoffed.

“There are no good people,” she announced. “And by all rights I should have been granted the pleasure of killing you for crimes.”

“My crimes?” Victorian asked. “I know that I am repeating myself, but have we met before?”

“She probably means that she has been digging around in your head,” Julia explained. “My sister can be a bit rude like that. She sometimes looks without asking first.”

Leonora gave the golden haired handmaiden a look as sharp as the dagger in her hand.

“Oh, how I envy you, Leonora!” Julia said and glanced around the room. “The ability to search through the minds of my victims for their weaknesses – I could be so much fun to show them their worst nightmares. Over and over again until it would finally break them…”

Julia shrugged. “But that is her gift, not mine. I’m just a bloodthirsty bitch, after all.” She replied to Leonora’s hate filled stare with an insolent look of her own.

“But please try and be understanding of her folly,” Julia continued. “Our little angel of justice just can’t stop judging people for their honest mistakes.

Me personally – I don’t care about your past, Lord Rotwald. There are a lot of bad people out there and we can’t be too picky about who we conscript. After all, you want to die for a good cause and ours’ is as good as it comes. We get to use you and you get to die – everybody wins!”

Julia gestured at Leonora, “If only she could be a bit more open-minded. No matter how terrible your past, all we should really be concerned about is your future, right?”

She smirked, “Are you looking forward to your death, Lord Rotwald?”

The golden haired killer leaned in closer to Victorian. “And what do you think they are discussing up there without you?” she asked. “How much do you really think you are worth to our Master? Do you really think that the Duke won’t be able to offer more?”