I didn’t dream then, which was a blessing. It was like I’d fallen into the blackness and become a part of it myself. When I awoke I had the distinct feeling that there was something important to remember, but I couldn’t suss it.

“You awake then Teacher?” a voice asked.

I opened my eyes and saw Mourie, sitting in front of me. I wanted to speak, but found my mouth full of blood. She held a bowl in her hands and, with a nod, handed it to me. I spit my blood in the vessel.

“Can’t call me that” I said “You’re not my student and I haven’t been a teacher a long time.”

“Since Balmeth, I reckon?” she said knowingly and I nodded.

“What do I call ya then? I have to have some sort of name for a man that’s been kept warm in my bed.”

I thought for a moment. Most didn’t ask my name, so I hadn’t given one in a long time. “Call me Sab. That’s as good a name as any.”

“Sab it is then.” I wondered if she had caught the significance, but if she did she didn't show it.

A thought niggled the back of my brain. “What were you saying earlier?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” she said, perplexed.

“Earlier. Before I got knocked out. I feel like you said something, and I just can’t grip it. , It seems… important, somehow.”

“Well,” she said, “Wasn’t too much we said before I knocked ya out. Was it the horse? Or the rombane?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “There was something else.” I started to follow that train of thought though, and wound up at a junction.

“You said you worked on Crows before. When?”

“At Stebbleford. I was a field medic.”

“That’s it.” I said “What regiment?”

“Colonel Stentz. 11th.”

Now I knew why I was in a hurry to get to Barzoba. The 15th wasn’t a day.

It was a company.

---

The 15th company was called the Estelle Company and for all intents and purposes, they didn’t exist. They existed even less now that I had disbanded them, but even when we were an actual company, we operated outside of the chain of command. We were a company of ghosts. We hit at night, under the stars. We harangued supply chains before they knew what happened. We waged a war on morale. We were whispered to be avenging spirits and no one knew we existed.

Until Balmeth.

And after that clusterfuck we were sure known, but Versius made sure we were forgotten for good. Struck from the records forever. The men - my men - trapped, then shot, then burned. I had survived. Except I hadn’t really. Moving from place to place in a drunkard’s haze, trying to forget that part of me and that time.

And for a time I suppose I had forgotten. Guess that’s why I hadn’t recognized the number. We were never called “The 15th”, by anyone within any of the armies we’d fought for. We were officially the ‘Estelle Company’ but we always called ourselves ‘Stella’s Murder.’ What better name is there for a bunch of Crows?

Now The 15th was back, the Murder was back. I wondered who was leading them. I understood immediately why Dreamdrinker had resurfaced even though I’d thought it all but buried. The sword would be a symbol. Whoever carried it would have to be recognized as the inheritor of the company, the next in line. I knew that rule better than anyone. I wrote it after all. It was just too bad for whoever was trying to bring back a dead company that I wasn’t dead too. Would’ve made their inheritance go a lot smoother.

---

I tried to pay Mourie but she wouldn’t take it. She muttered something vague about a debt she needed to pay off. When she had her back turned I left the remainder of my coins in that black bag of hers. Kindness is good and fine, but folks still gotta eat. I thanked her again and went to find my horse: at The Old Oak where I knew I’d left the rest of my money. The money I’d won the night before.

A drunk is nothing if not a creature of habit. I’ve been a drunk for long enough that I can read my own habits like clues. Like I can talk to myself from the past in a way. The boots were a signal. That signal sent me back to the bartender, so for the second time today I walked to the bar.

Whatever was in those drops Mourie used, I felt better than I had in a while; maybe a bit foggy, but I knew that would go in time. It was nearly dark now,so I figured I was out for the entire afternoon. The throb of my tooth had become more of a muted dull ache. She had removed the entire broken tooth, just as I’d figured she would. In another day there’d be another one pushing up in its place. A week and it’d be like nothing had ever happened at all. My body was pretty miraculous that way.

I passed by Reluctant, who was still tied up at the front and gave him a quick pat. “Looks like we’ve got a couple long days ahead of us bud.” I told him. He exhaled heavily then, almost an answer. I scratched behind his ear like he liked, then I left him and entered The Old Oak again.

Kalb was a saltpeter mining town on the southwestern tip of New Beregia. At least it was right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t Grensch by the end of the year. The Grensch have been slowly absorbing their neighbors ever since Balmeth.

The men work down in those dark cramped caves, collecting the earth all day. That saltpeter gets shipped off to the capital Northumba and turned into gunpowder. That gunpowder rarely ever makes it back here though. The thought of these poor people with guns scares the Empire. Give em guns and you could imagine them turning em on you.

I’ve been on both ends of the gun myself. Always better to be on the end with the grip than the end with the barrel.

I headed into a much fuller, much louder bar than I’d entered this morning. I assumed it must’ve been payday because Carsten was pouring beers to an ansty crowd. There was a line in front of the bar with men yelling drinks at him, money in hand. I figured I could wait a spell, so I sat at a table by the fire while he did his best to get the drinks to thirsty folk.

As I sat there a man slumped down into the seat across from me. He was drunk and spilling beer in each hand as he stared at me one eyed. “I know you?” I asked him.

“You’re the drinker” he slurred out at me. “I saw you yesterday.”

“I suppose that’s me” I responded.

“You outdrank the Doc. But you wouldn’t beat me. Here” He pushed one of his beers toward me. “Lets see.”

I stared at it, then him. “Not feeling thirsty at the moment, thanks.” I replied.

It was true. I’d spent every day since Balmeth running from one bar to the next. Craving the next thing that would take me to oblivion. Now that I had a goal though, that desire was gone. Major Odell always said I was like a bloodhound: once I got a hold of a scent, I had to follow it to the end. That’s what was happening now.

“You can take a drink from the Doc, but not from a cave monkey I guess. Ha” he slurred out at me. “What’s wrong with my money?”

“Nothing” I said, “Just don’t much feel like a drink.”

I probably should’ve noticed it sooner, but my mind was still pretty hazy from that medication. He was making a scene for a reason. He’d seen me yesterday, which meant he’d seen what I was paying with. Probably considered me an easy mark. From another table a group of men stood up then came towards us. His friends flanked me, three men built with that muscle that comes from swinging a pickaxe day in, day out. .

“This guy causin’ trouble Kembo?” They intended to intimidate me. Probably worked on any other folks passing through. It wouldn’t on me.

“I apologize.” I said as I began to rise to my feet.

Kembo, who I could now tell wasn’t as drunk as he made out to be, told me, “you should be—””

“Didn’t mean that for you.” I interrupted. “Meant it for Carsten.”

I kicked my chair back, tripping up one of his friends, then threw my left elbow into the one approaching from that side. My right hand whipped out in an arc to the right, deflecting an incoming punch from that friend. I followed up with a left jab that smashed into his right ear. Then swung my left leg out in a cut kick to trip him.

As he went down I used the momentum from the kick to turn myself 90 degrees and swing a backfist into the one I’d initially tripped with the chair. It caught him just under the jaw and he crumpled into a heap. I kicked the one who I’d first elbowed and he didn’t move after that.

I’ve never been much of a close quarters fighter, but I thought I’d done pretty good. Three guys down in less than three seconds and I hadn’t even used any of my reserves. That’s when the first guy stabbed me.

Oh. Right. Him.

I’ve been shot, burned, hung, drowned, and just about any other kind of injured you can think of. Getting stabbed is my least favorite. By a large margin.

Bullets generally go straight through you, so you can move past it pretty easy. Burns hurt steadily, then itch like the devil. Getting cut, you can usually fight through the pain. Stab wounds though, they shut your body right down. Hard to think with a foreign object tearing into your nerves.

At this point my adrenaline had kicked in, and I could compartmentalize it for now. I moved away from him with his blade still stuck in me - luckily for me he hadn’t had a good grip on it. He moved behind me trying to pull it out so he could stab me again. I moved trying to cover distance and get away. At least that’s what he thought I was doing.

Major Odell taught me this trick a long time ago. “Appear like you’re retreating and your opponent will do the work for you.” As he rushed to close the distance between us his guard was down. I pivoted on my left foot, spun 180 degrees to face him and he ran directly into a spinning backfist from my left. It clipped his chin exposing the left side of his neck and my right hand smashed down like a hammer into that exposed area. He collapsed.

This whole sequence had taken maybe four or five seconds so most of the place hadn’t even noticed. Carsten did though. “Hey!” he yelled out to me.

I turned to him like a little boy caught stealing and asked him if he wanted to buy a used knife.

I thought it was funny at the time.

---

We were in the kitchen as he prepared to take the knife out of my back. “I shouldn’t do this” he said. “I ain’t the Doc.”

“Well, he’s dead and Mourie’s done enough for me today.” I said “Just pull it out quick. Don’t tell me when you’re gonna do it though.”

“Alright” he said, “what if I count to three”

“Alright just—” I began, as he pulled the knife out.

Remember all those nerves? Well I just did.

“Godsdammit!” I cursed at him “What happened to counting?”

“Was just to get your mind off it. Worked though didn’t it?”

It had indeed. Carsten had my back covered up with a cloth, keeping pressure on the wound. “Gonna need stitches probably” he said.

“Nah.” I said “Just keep that held.”

He was right too. I did need stitches and I could’ve probably got Mourie to stitch me. Would put me through the slow process of healing that wouldn’t tax my reserves, but I needed him to know what I was. I needed him to understand me.

“Your bar gonna be alright?” I asked

“Yeah, Cook’s better than I am as a tender. Don’t tell him that though.” he replied

“Alright,” I said, “I’m going to need you to hold that thing there. No matter what you feel underneath.”

“Alright?” he responded somewhat quizzically..

I dropped into the Attenuation Trance. I can’t do this during a fight. Too many variables, but in the quiet of this kitchen I should be able to do it.

I saw my chi within myself, and urged my body to close my wound. I was lucky. Ol’ Kembo had missed my liver by a hair’s breadth, but I still had to knit together the muscles and close the skin. Then I exited the trance and let my body do the automatic processes of healing.

“You can move that cloth now.” I told Carsten, opening my eyes.

“You’ll bleed out.” he said.

“Not anymore I won’t.” I responded.

He pulled it off, intending to humor me, but instead of an open wound he saw a pink scar. This disbelief on his face was one I was accustomed to.

“You’re a Crow.” He said. “I thought you were all dead.”

“We are” I told him, “Some are just more dead than others.”

----

We sat in the back of the kitchen. Carsten had brought a bottle with him in case he needed to sterilize the wound, but now he was taking a long pull from it. He offered it to me, but I turned it down.

“So why’d those fellas take a run at ya?” he asked.

“They saw the money I’d won at gambling yesterday. Thought I’d be an easy mark.”

“You were not,” he said.

“No, I was not.” I agreed

“You ever figure out where that money went?”

“Yeah.” I said, “You have it.”

“I do not!” he said, taken aback.

I chuckled. “Well not on you. I put it in that room you loaned out to me last night I didn’t sleep in. I hid it somewhere in there I figured was safe. We’ll have to toss the place a little, but we’ll find it.”

“We?” he asked

“Yeah, unfortunately the Cook is gonna have to run your bar for a while. I’m hiring you on.” I told him

“Me? What do you want with a bartender?” he asked

“You’re as much a bartender as I am The Emperor” I said, “You’re ex-military. I’m guessing Imperial.”

He seemed a bit stunned, but then responded lowly: “How’d you know?”

“I can piece things together pretty good.” I told him. “You sussed out that guy from last night as a merc. Civilians can’t usually tell something like that. Plus you said he wasn’t one of ours. Civvies don’t refer to the military that way either.”

“So that’s it?” he said, “a couple slips and you figured it?”

“Well,” I said “ I’m good but not that good. That doesn’t add it up entirely yet. But, this morning I saw you were cutting up borfruit. Put that in your alcohol and it wards scurvy. Old Empire trick.”

He nodded as I continued “Not much out this way for food stuff that isn’t killed and dried. You’ve probably been the only reason these miners aren’t half dead.”

“Huh” he said. Then Carsten stood and roamed back and forth a little. It was a couple of breaths before he asked, “So why’d you want me then?”

“Well. I need a few things.” I told him “You’d have been at least a Major to get enough money to retire out here.”

“Lieutenant Colonel.” he responded.

LC? Interesting, I thought. Then I continued, “I’m in need of someone to watch my back, as well as someone who can get close enough to whoever gave me this note.”

“So, again, why me?”

“I have a hunch they’re military too, or at least ex-military. I don’t wanna expose myself to them before I get intel. So I need you to be my man on the ground.”

“I’m retired.” Carsten said “Plus ya can’t pay me enough.”

“Oh c’mon.” I told him, “I’ll pay you, but we both know you’re not going to do this for the money anyway.”

“No?” he said, “Then why am I gonna do it?”

“You’re gonna do it to learn the greatest secret of our era. What happened to all the Shadowmin.”