“I will act on this appropriately,” replied Till as she leaned on her desk. “But, before I do, you will need to consider if you are willing to be expelled from Braytons.”

This wasn’t what Gwyn had expected. She had told Till everything. Tish had been manipulating Veximarl and forcing him to act against his squad. Gwyn had expected that a suspension would be happening, but she had no way to predict that she would also be facing expulsion.

“Apologies, Lady Till, but I am not the one who is in the wrong.”

Till told her to keep silent by slightly raising her hand. “You have given both of us an opportunity by showing me the type of character you are, Miss Hewitt. I would like to assign you to a mission of secrecy. This will be an undercover mission. It is for your safety that I ask that you be expelled from Braytons immediately.”

A swirl of emotions entered Gwyn’s heart. Fear, confusion, and a hint of something strange. Was it excitement..? No, of course not. Gwyn would never seek out danger, but… She couldn’t deny that Till’s trust made her feel a mix of joy and acceptance. Without a second thought, she agreed to take on the mission.

“Sorry, but I’m not buying any of this,” grumbled Sybil. She had been pacing back and forth across the dorm room while Gwyn was explaining herself.

Gwyn narrowed her eyes. She was sitting prim and proper on the edge of her bed. “You would understand what I’m trying to explain if you would bother to listen to me instead of scoffing every few moments.”

Sybil walked over to her desk and snatched up a bagel. She took a large bite and spoke around the mouthful. “I can’t understand why Till would send you.” She swallowed hard and nearly gagged, pounding at her chest hard in order to clear her throat. “D-Duxton warned me that I couldn’t risk being seen by Shaw because his father could be involved. I didn’t think avoiding him would be all that difficult until you moved in.”

“Your concerns are unfounded. I am here to act as a point of contact between yourself and Lady Till. She has been having second thoughts about leaving Prince Duxton in charge of your safety,” replied Gwyn. “Shaw will not be causing us trouble because…” She hesitated for a moment. “We’re on a break.”

“... A break?” Sybil sat down on the edge of her desk. “Forgive me for being paranoid, but are you taking this seriously? What exactly is your plan here? You come to bother me for a few weeks and then what? Go back to Braytons? Apologize to Shaw and explain how it was all for the mission?”

“Yes,” bluntly replied Gwyn. “To some degree, that is my plan.”

“I’m risking everything and I’m not about to trust someone who has nothing to lose. This isn’t some Baron Squad mission where you get to mingle at parties and dance the night away. People are dying because of me and they are going to continue dying unless I put a stop to this.”

“I am simply here to do the mission that was assigned to me.” Gwyn looked down, flipping through a schoolbook that Sybil had been working on. Her fingers traced the edge of a page where Sybil had doodled runes inside the margins. “I understand that you feel confident because Prince Duxton is helping you, but can you honestly tell me that you trust him?”

Sybil snatched the homework out of Gwyn’s grasp and stuffed it into her bag. The back of her hand scraped against the hilt of the dagger she had stolen. She had only stolen it because she knew she couldn’t trust Duxton at all. This was the blade that she was going to use to fix everything.

A moment of clarity lifted the fog from Sybil’s mind. Patterfall had given her Laurent’s name so easily. Why did it take Duxton weeks to tell her anything? Why did he play games and make the excuse that he couldn’t have gotten anything done until Udell had gotten to the city?

“No. I don’t trust him,” whispered Sybil. She absolutely couldn’t. “But my problems with Duxton don’t magically equal trust with you.” She clutched her bag to her chest.

Gwyn’s eyes shifted from Sybil’s face to the bag she was carrying. She didn’t verbally ask why Sybil was keen on defending it, but she did give Sybil a judgemental stare. Sybil rolled her eyes and quite angrily set the bag down on the desk.

“I’m in a lot of danger here and I’m starting to get the feeling that Duxton isn’t going to give me protection when I’m in need of it.” Sybil pulled the dagger out of her bag. “So I got me a little something to protect myself.” She examined the side of the blade. “Should be good once I find some blood iron inserts.”

Gwyn folded her arms. “And how will you afford the upgrades?”

“The dagger already has slots in it for processed blood iron. It’s not ideal, but…” Sybil twisted the blade around. “I can manage on my own. The golem research club has what I need to manufacture something.”

So this is the mess that Gwyn had walked herself into. “Who are you targeting?”

“Targeting?” Sybil put her hand to her chest. “Miss Hewitt, I am offended. I am simply someone who appreciates fine craftsmanship when it comes to knife work.

Gwyn frowned. Sybil wasn’t a fool. She wouldn’t risk exposing herself like this unless there was someone she really, really wanted to stab. “Who is your target, Miss Twist?”

Sybil glared at Gwyn. Gwyn glared back. “I had talked to Patterfall about some stuff, and he thinks he knows who is behind this whole mess.” She set the knife back into her bag. “If they want me, it’s going to be on my terms. All I need now is a way to walk through the front door so me and him could talk.”

“... Who?”

Sybil looked off to the side. “... Father Laurent.”

“Father Laurent,” repeated Gwyn. She pursed her lips. “And all you are going to do is talk?” Sybil nodded her head. “I’m certain that you can simply ghost your way in and be done with it.”

“I normally would, but I have to walk in like a normal person for this to work. I think the palace is rigged to detect when someone like me is using my magic.” Curse her grandfather for being such a dastardly person. “I’m only going to use it for my escape.”

Gwyn frowned. “I’ll check around the university and the city.” There was always something at the palace that needed an extra set of hands. Sybil could get in that way. “But you’ll need to leave the city after you’ve had your talk.”

“I’m planning on going to the Coral Kingdom. My mother had some friends there, and they’ll probably put a roof over my head if I ask nicely.”

“Good. Then I’ll go with you.”

Sybil violently shook her head back and forth.

“I have been assigned to work as your assistant and guard. I will take that job seriously.” Gwyn stood up and walked over to her desk, where she had a notebook tucked away. “I don’t believe that you will be able to reach the Coral Kingdom safely.”

“It’s not that far of a walk,” bluntly replied Sybil.

It most certainly was that far of a walk, and there was an ocean between them and there. “I’ll look into making the arrangements,” said Gwyn as she jotted a quick note. They could go to Herring and lay low until a boat to the Coral Kingdom passed by.

“... Thank you,” said Sybil as she sat down on the edge of her bed. This was troublesome. She didn’t want to get more people involved. Exactly who else was going to figure out she was hiding here before she managed to get anything done?

---

The mule slowed to a stop as Amalfrieda pulled back on its reins. She had to get a good look at this signpost in order to get a hold of her bearings. An ill-tempered Naiov paused a short distance away from her. Neither was all too happy to have the other’s company at this moment.

“Shut up,” spat out Amalfrieda.

Naiov had planned to stay silent, but he was more than willing to speak up now. “You shouldn’t have killed him,” he stated in a matter-of-fact manner.

They had originally been assigned a road patrol in the southern end of the Gilded Region. That changed when an army supply caravan from the Clay Region had been completely and utterly massacred. The following investigation had concluded that a group of squires from the Violet Region were responsible. Rather than face conscription, they sought to destroy the military supply chains.

Amalfrieda and Naiov were one of several teams working on tracking them down. They had been somewhat successful, yet a still terrible pick for this mission. The tension between them had grown as a result.

“He chose to choke,” muttered Amalfrieda under her breath.

Which was true. The squire they had caught in the last village had chosen to bite off his own tongue rather than give up his allies. Suicide over execution as a traitor or getting eaten by a monster. Though Naiov had called them cowards, Amalfrieda felt differently.

She had become a squire due to family pressure. It was fortunate she ended up at Braytons rather than another barracks. Even the children in squire programs weren’t safe. Those as young as seventeen were being thrown into a month’s worth of training before being sent to the frontline. At least Lady Till had managed to hold off the wolves until her squires reached the third year.

Even if Till had been protecting them… There was that ill taste of temptation again. Amalfrieda would rather be hunting humans over tainted beasts. As disgusted as she had felt with these murderers, she still felt a strange sort of comradery with them.

“They went south,” said Naiov after a moment of silence.

Amalfrieda tilted her head as a strange cawing echoed in the air. She raised her arm and a magpie swooped down and landed on her wrist. “They went east,” replied Amalfrieda as she inspected the bird. She untied the bit of paper that was tied onto the magpie’s ankle.

A magpie? Naiov frowned to himself. He had only seen one once during a mission with Pegasus, who had claimed they were ornery birds who were best left avoided. “What’s the message?”

“Family emergency,” replied Amalfrieda in a distant tone. “East is the closest town. I need to meet with someone there. You’ll handle the report back to the boss.”

Oh sure, just leave him to report back about the whole Amalfrieda killing a guy thing. Naiov scowled to himself. Better to keep his mouth shut instead of start another argument. “Of course. I’ll handle it.”

The town was small but saw consistent traffic. It was between Blackmount and Mareth, but a much larger town that was two hours south of here stole the majority of business. People only stopped by long enough to use the bathroom or grab a quick meal. However, those seeking to avoid pursuit would have better luck resupplying here instead of a larger town

“Speak with the guards and see if they’ve spotted our targets,” ordered Amalfrieda. “I’ll be in the tavern.”

“Sure. Not like I’m hungry or anything,” grumbled Naiov as he steered his mule towards the guard post.

And now that Amalfrieda had gotten rid of the baggage, she could get on with her actual mission. She tied up her mule in front of the tavern and headed inside. Instead of going to the bar, she approached a table where a cleric was sitting.

He was in his late thirties or early forties. Gray strands of hair were just beginning to stain his temples. The clerical robes he wore signaled that he was a priest from the Violet Region, and a prestigious one at that, but he sat at the table with a slight slouch that hinted that he didn’t have a noble upbringing. His face was frozen in the expression of a smiling fox. It’s eerie appearance was enhanced by the creases around his mouth that had developed over the past few years.

“Amalfrieda,” he said as he gestured to the chair in front of him.

“Doctor Protea,” she replied as she took a seat.

A magpie flew down from the rafters of the tavern and landed on his shoulder. “You haven’t reported to me in over a month.”

Amalfrieda leaned back in her chair. “Back off,” she spat at an approaching waitress. She waited until the woman left. “I’m still set to be conscripted in three weeks. ”

If Protea wasn’t already smiling, he would’ve smirked at her remark. “Has Lord Duxton offered to help you?”

“... No.” Amalfrieda was still bitter about Udell being chosen to act as Duxton’s bodyguard. As far as she knew, both of them were still set to join the army by the end of the month, but at least he got to have some fun and praise before the end arrived.

“Then you’ll be happy to know that I come bearing an invitation.” Protea reached into his sleeve and retrieved an envelope. It was still shut, with a gold wax seal that bore a bull’s head on it. “A letter from the Daughters of Iath.”

Amalfrieda snatched the envelope out of his hand and tore into it. Inside was a letter from Madam Pennyrile, reassuring her that her ashes would be entombed at the temple if she were to die in battle. Her courage and strength will be remembered for generations, and it ended with a thank you for her family’s annual monetary donation to the temple.

This wasn’t even a personal letter. The script had been stamped on with a wooden block and the signature had been stamped in as well. Amalfrieda gritted her teeth. All these years, and Pennyrile still didn’t give a shit about her.

“There are those who claim that you are far too violent and unpredictable. A creature such as yourself isn’t worth the time needed to give a proper taming.” Protea took a piece of walnut from a bowl and held it out for his magpie to take. “Your family has no faith in you. The Daughters have forsaken you. You were being forcibly escorted down a path of irreversible self destruction.

But I saw you as an intelligible sort of beast. A female who is only loyal to her own ambitions. One that is fueled by the blood of her opponents. That’s why you sought to apprentice under me, isn’t it? Those feral instincts of yours told you that you and I were cut from the same cloth.”

“Yet you sent me away,” snarled Amalfrieda.

“You were a child who needed polishing,” replied Protea. “But I’ve taken care of you. Could you say for certain that you would’ve entered Braytons without my help?” He momentarily paused as Amalfrieda shook her head. “It’s about time that you joined me, isn’t it? I can see you posted safely away in Grand Temple, where the foul beasts of taint will not trouble you.”

Amalfrieda studied his face. Ever unchanging. Completely unreadable. Exactly as she remembered it. Her eyes flitted to the table. They lingered on the magpie, who was now madly scarfing down walnuts.

“Silent as ever... I do not mind though. It isn’t as if there has been too much to report on as of late.” He gestured to the letter that Amalfrieda had set down on the table. “Or has there been? It seems that the thorn in my side has tripled in size, and you seem to have the tools necessary to remove it.”

Amalfrieda visibly stiffed. “Tuton murdered Paladin Buttonweed. He’s the second year squad captain of Grimstone.”

“Buttonweed was murdered in an act of self-defense,” replied Protea. “A medical inquiry proved that it was done with necromancy magic.”

“Tuton would have interrogated the corpse. He would have discovered the Buttonweed was working with the madam.” A connection wouldn’t be hard to trace. The paladin’s niece was a member of the Daughters, as was his mother. Veximarl’s advantage was that he held information that could lead to Pennyrile being punished.

“The Order does not share the church’s stance on necromancy. We will not take action against brood unless they have broken the law.” Protea held up his hands. “My wrists are bound. Even if they weren’t, Tuton would fail to provide us with anything delightful. We’ve already learned all we could from Buttonweed’s records.”

Amalfrieda hesitated. “... Maplehammer,” she whispered.

The faintest spark lit up behind Protea’s narrow eyes. “Proceed.”

“Priestess of Eatha. She was expelled from Brayton’s for overdosing Tuton with her magic.” Amalfrieda scratched nervously at the seat of her bench. “They didn’t want to send her back to Fogbloom. She’s gone someplace else. There wasn’t a reason to protect her, so it must have something to do with keeping her away from Madam Pennyrile. She knows something that they don’t want the Madam to find out about.”

Say anything. Keep Protea’s attention. Till had every reason to save Tish from going pack to Fogbloom. She couldn’t afford to have others find out that she had been sheltering a necromancer. Amalfrieda had to make it sound like Tish knew something more though. Her own welfare was at stake.

“Her location?”

Think. They wouldn’t have sent Tish to someplace she was uncomfortable with. “Bilberry,” she replied. “Maplehammer had been assigned to work at an abbey there over the summer. They may have put her to work there.”

“... May?”

The corner of Amalfrieda’s eye twitched. She knew she should’ve snooped before she left, but she didn’t have the opportunity to. Beat had been on edge ever since Buttonweed died and those brats that worked for him were just as bad. “Maplehammer will be at that abbey,” she said with confidence.

Protea stood up and tossed a few coins on the table. “Thank you. I’ll be contacting you again once I’ve taken the target to Fogbloom.” He then reached into his sleeve and retrieved an identification plaque. Amalfrieda’s name was already on it, surrounded with colorful hollyhock flowers. “Welcome to The Order of Alcea.”