“My name is Joseph,” he growled.

“Your name is irrelevant,” the rabbit said, his voice low and dangerous, “Shouldn't you be dancing?”

“Lay off me, pal,” Joseph said, “I was just trying to find the bathroom.”

“How convenient,” Ket drawled, “So was I. Shall we go together?”

“That's just awkward,” Joseph said.

But Ket's grip tightened on his shoulder. The rabbit's expression had hardly changed, as he stared dourly down at Joseph.

“Fine,” Joseph said, “Let's go. Lead the way.”

Ket nodded, releasing Joseph's grip. Despite Joseph's offer, however, he kept behind Joseph at all times as the two of them walked, never letting him out of sight. The only sound came from their footsteps clacking against the marble floor. Even the orchestra was muted here, hardly able to be heard through the walls of stone.

Joseph stopped.

“Is something wrong?” Ket asked.

“I... I actually forget where the bathroom is,” he said.

Ket blinked. There was a frank confession to Joseph's statement. He was well and truly lost.

“We take another right, here,” the Exodus Walker said, a bit nonplussed.

“Right,” Joseph said, “Well, let's go. To, uh, piss together.”

They continued walking.

They went into the bathroom. It was, shockingly, much like a public restroom back on Earth. There were toilets in stalls, and a deep basin that had water running down its sides in an ever-gushing drip. A mirror had been set into the wall. Joseph made his way to a stall, turning to look at Ket.

“Don't you... have to go?” he asked.

“No,” Ket replied.

“Then... why are you here?”

The rabbit gave no response. He crossed his arms and waited.

Joseph went into the stall.

He didn't even need to go.

***

Rosemary and Sunala had stationed themselves at a table near the rails, to better see the dancing below.

And it was pretty soon that Rosemary, isolated from the wheeling and the waltzing and the glory, became bored. Sunala had her own battles – the constant introductions and re-introductions to just about every single aristocrat, lord, lady, duke, duchess, knight, and esquire in all of Scuttleway, maybe even all of Londoa. She took it all in stride, of course, laughing and joking with the best of them, standing tall compared to the rest of the gala. It helped that she was taller than almost everyone here, of course.

“Dancing is for the young,” she said, in a rare moment where they could sit in silence, “I'm much too busy for it, now.”

“I can see,” Rosemary said. She stifled a yawn.

“Is something the matter, Rosemary?” Sunala asked.

“Wondering where Joseph got to,” Rosemary responded, “He was supposed to be dancing, but I think I've lost sight of him. Maybe he got trampled.”

Sunala snorted.

“Or not,” she said. Almost as if on cue, Joseph walked up to the table and sat down.

“God, I need a drink,” he said.

“Was wondering what happened to you, Mr. Zheng,” Sunala said, “Having fun?”

“No,” Joseph said bluntly. Rosemary pushed a glass of wine over to him, which he took and drained, “I saw Isaac Rithmound sneaking around with that servant of his.”

“Scandalous,” Rosemary said.

“Not like that,” Joseph said, rolling his eyes, “They went into a locked room, where apparently Lady Doria was waiting.”

That got Sunala's attention.

“Lord Doria?” she said.

“Yeah,” Joseph said, “And get this, Isaac had a key.”

Sunala nodded.

“Lady Doria is one of the closest allies to House Busciver, to the point that she practically lives here.”

“Scandalous,” Rosemary repeated.

“She would have keys to the place,” Sunala said, “This isn't... hmm...”

She was quiet for a moment, before she rose.

“I want you two to investigate this,” she ordered, “I'll throw in a bonus to the contract.”

“Alright,” Rosemary said, without hesitation.

“Did anything else seem odd to you, Joseph?” Sunala asked.

“Ket intercepted me,” Joseph said, “He seemed very intent that I didn't disturb whatever Isaac was doing.”

“So they're doing a bit more than bodyguard work, then,” Rosemary said.

“Presumably,” Sunala said, “I need to find Busciver.”

“He's over there,” Rosemary said, “With Lord Rithmound.”

She pointed, and indeed, Busciver and Lord Rithmound were laughing together, each with a glass of wine, trying to hide the looks of hatred they shot at one another. Rithmound's servants were flanking him, almost like guards, and were, Rosemary noted, surreptitiously tasting the wine before pouring it out for their master.

Sunala nodded, stepping away and approaching Lord Busciver. Rosemary and Joseph watched her as she whispered into his ear and began to pull him away.

“Should we follow her?” Rosemary asked.

“...I just had to pretend to be pooping for twenty minutes while a giant rabbitman stood outside my stall,” Joseph said, downing another glass, “I need a break.”

***

It was, Alonso decided, surprisingly exciting to stalk the side hallways that laced around the ballroom floor. He was like a phantom in the night. There was a strange sort of melancholy that came with listening to the orchestra from the sidelines, the waltzing fervor dulled by stone and silence. Many of the hallways were lit for the servants, who bustled about with bottles of wine or trays of fancy foodstuffs.

A few, though, were unlit and dark, with the intent of steering potential wanderers back towards the dance and the gala. But Alonso did not fear the dark, and he reveled in stepping into places where he wasn't allowed.

Most of the doors, of course, were locked, and the Exodus Walker did not prod further. A few rooms, however, had been left unattended, and he would open the door to find a quiet place. One of the rooms was a study, with a couple old books left lying half-read on a desk. Another was a dining room – one of many, Alonso supposed. The true mark of wealth.

Ket was staying by Lord Rithmound's son. Isaac was his name, a good kid, all things considered, with his own little Raul and Himiko story with Doge Busciver's niece. He was in a meeting now with one of Rithmound's rivals. A betrayal had begun to stink in the air.

Not his concern, of course. He was to make sure Raulito was safe in all of this. Elections were dangerous times, after all.

And he had seen Joseph Zheng in the halls twice already.

The first time Ket had found him, and guided him firmly to the bathroom and then back to the gala. The second time, he had gotten close to the hallway before Alonso had caught up to him.

“Something wrong, amigo?” he asked.

“Err, no,” Joseph said, “Sorry to bother you. Have a nice day.”

And he had turned around and walked back towards the ballroom floor. Alonso had watched the metahuman as he went down the hall leading to the gala. He felt Ket's presence materialize beside him.

“Odd,” Alonso said.

“He has already attempted this once,” Ket said.

“I know,” Alonso said, “And he sounded almost polite when he talked to me, a far cry from earlier.”

“Suspicious,” Ket growled.

“Indeed. Keep guarding Raulito, Ket. I'm going to do a bit of searching.”

Which brought Alonso here, to this unlit dining room, staring at the silverware, plates, and handkerchiefs that had been painstakingly set up at each seat. This Doge was an odd one, setting a table with no one to dine. But then, Doges often were.

Alonso shook himself from his thoughts, and closed the door to the room. There would be time later to chuckle at a gnome's eccentricities. He had work to do.

He went down another few hallways, out of darkness and into light, before he found his quarry. Joseph had re-positioned himself fully on the other side of the tower, staring through a half-opened door at the gala and the dance, music pouring through at full blast through the crack. Alonso began to step over. The metahuman turned at the Exodus Walker's approach, eyes going wide as he closed the door and began to briskly walk away. Alonso went after him, lengthening his stride to catch up as Joseph rounded a corner. Alonso wheeled to follow-

Only to find Joseph gone. A servant was staring at him, a cigarette in his hands that he began to tuck into his coat pocket.

“Trouble, sir?” the servant asked.

“...No,” Alonso said, “No, not at all. Did you happen to see one of the party-goers pass through here?”

“No, sir,” the servant said, “You won't tell anyone I'm taking a smoke break?”

“...Of course not,” Alonso said, “I'm not a narc.”

The servant nodded.

“Hell yeah,” he said, “Have an hors d'oeuvre.”

***

Doge Busciver took the news of his impending betrayal with good cheer, giving a hearty laugh as Sunala whispered in his ear and cracking a joke to Lord Rithmound.

But Joseph could see his trembling hands and the way that he quieted down, leaving Sunala and Lord Rithmound to their idle chatter, the noblewoman very obviously trying to keep the hobgoblin looped into the conversation and by Busciver's side.

“Makes sense,” Joseph said, “She doesn't want him leaving to cause more trouble.”

“Even though Isaac already is,” Rosemary said.

“Better than nothing,” Joseph said.

It was then that he noted a servant approaching out of the corner of his eye. She was walking with a confident stride, with all the measured confidence of a fighter, snaking her away around the guests like a cobra as she went to the Doge.

“The Master of Arms,” Rosemary said, “She's dressed up like any ol' servant.”

“To alleviate the guests' concerns?” Joseph asked.

“Something like that,” Rosemary said.

The Master of Arms tapped the Doge on the shoulder. The gnome excused himself, his voice overly joyful and strained over the gala's din, as they walked over to a side table.

“It's rude to stare, Joseph,” Rosemary said.

“Yeah, but this is getting interesting,” Joseph said, “Something's happened.”

Indeed, Doge Busciver nodded as the Master of Arms spoke with him, eyes betraying nothing as he murmured a few words to her, obviously trying to keep his voice down. His hands trembled even more as he got out of his seat and walked over to Sunala, speaking with her for a moment, before the noblewoman made her way back to Joseph and Rosemary.

“Come, dears,” she said.

“Did something happen?” Joseph said.

“Yes,” Sunala said, “A murder.”

***

One of the maids had found him in a room that was supposed to be kept locked, though obviously the killer had taken a key. They had strangled him, and then had unceremoniously tossed him into the room like a used rag. His eyes were still open, still frozen in a look of shock and fear that turned Joseph's insides, bruises purpling his neck where the murderer's fingers had dug in deep while squeezing the life out of him.

They had brought his body out into the hall and sat it down by the wall. The small group, composed of the Master of Arms, the Doge, Sunala, Joseph, and Rosemary, stared down.

“You took him out of the room?” Sunala said, “Busciver, that's tampering with a crime scene.”

“Captain Ramsey will be furious,” the Master of Arms said.

“Captain Ramsey isn't going to know,” the Doge growled, “This was a murder on Busciver stone, so it is a Busciver matter. The Militia need not factor into this.”

He was wringing his hands nervously, his good cheer facade having melted as soon as he laid his eyes on the body.

“God dammit,” he said, “Not tonight, of all nights...”

“We'll find out who did this,” Sunala said, “You should get back to the gala.”

The Doge glared at Sunala.

“We must keep up appearances, Busciver. If no one is to know, save for us, then you must act as though nothing's happened.”

Busciver sighed.

“Yes, of course, of course. You're right, as always, Lily-Ann.”

He gave a look to Joseph and Rosemary.

“The guild can be trusted?” he asked.

“Of course,” Rosemary said.

“Good,” Busciver said, “Driona, with me.”

The Master of Arms nodded, accompanying the Doge back out into the gala, where he once more put on a mask and started laughing as a noblewoman accosted him with drunken congratulations.

Joseph knelt down, grimacing as he got closer to the corpse. The victim was all too familiar...

“I...” he racked his brain, “I met this guy. He was in the hallway, having a smoke break.”

“And you didn't tell anyone?” Sunala asked.

Joseph shook his head.

“I ain't a narc.”

Sunala leaned down next to Joseph, sharp eyes looking at the servant's face. She brought out her single, slender hand and pinched the chin, tilting the head side to side.

“When did you see him?” she asked.

“...About forty-five minutes ago, give or take,” Joseph said.

“Odd. I would surmise this servant's been dead for two or three hours.”

Joseph blinked.

“How?” he asked.

“Can I tell how long he's been dead?” Sunala said, “His temperature's gone down a few degrees since his becoming a corpse.”

“No, how can it be that he's been dead for a few hours, when I just saw him?”

Sunala nodded, “Asking the important questions. Good. It can be for any number of reasons, but we'll need to narrow them down.”

“Evil twin?” Rosemary asked.

“Perhaps,” Sunala said.

“Seems a bit soap opera-y,” Joseph said.

“What's a soap opera?” Rosemary asked.

“TV shows your mom makes you watch while folding laundry,” Joseph said.

“Other options?” Sunala asked, “Focus, people.”

Joseph nodded, staring down at the body. The servant stared back at him, causing his insides to writhe once more. That primal gut feeling of running away began to overtake him, something he pushed down.

Firmly.

They were on a job.

“You could be wrong,” Joseph said, “He could've just died.”

The noblewoman gave a shrug, “That is indeed a possibility. Placing a time of death... it isn't an exact process.”

“...There was something Ichabod told me about,” Rosemary said, “About a job he went on.”

“What happened?” Joseph asked.

“He and Vicenorn were traveling to Henderin's Glow,” Rosemary said, “But they weren't on the Dreamer. They had to charter an airship from Melmaen to get there. You know Melmaen-”

“I don't,” Joseph said.

Rosemary rolled her eyes.

“It's weird, alright? Magic's crazy out there. The ship they were on, it was known for getting into all sorts of interesting situations. One of which was that things kept disappearing from their bags. They would see the other go into one room, and come out of another at the same time, on the other side of the ship.”

“What was it?” Joseph asked.

“Turns out the captain's daughter was a shapeshifter,” Rosemary said, “A changeling. She liked playing pranks and practical jokes on the crew and their guests.”

Joseph continued to stare at the servant's body. At the servant's face, still filled with fear.

“Pretty shitty prank, if you ask me,” he said.

“Was there anyone else with the servant when you met him?” Sunala asked.

“Yeah,” Joseph said, “He was with a buddy. Should we... should we assume that he's dead, too?”

Sunala shook her head.

“Not until we find a body,” she said, “Now, listen, you two.”

She stood back up, glancing around to make sure they were well and truly alone. Joseph and Rosemary drew closer to her, and her voice was scarcely a whisper as she spoke.

“If it is a shapeshifter, then we need to assume that anyone in the gala is the killer. Anyone.”

“Right,” Joseph said.

“We need to be smart about this,” Sunala said, “Because we'll need to separate if we're going to find out who did this. Establish code words. Never travel alone without telling the others where we're going. Got it?”

The two guildmembers nodded.

“Now, we need to keep up appearances,” Sunala said, “All three of us are to act as though nothing's happened. We're still at a gala, dancing the night away. But I need you two to find the other servant. Keep an eye on myself and the Doge, as well.”

“Right,” Joseph said.

“We got your back,” Rosemary said.

“Good,” Sunala said, “Now, let's go.”

***

They went back out into the gala proper, the fiery song of instruments and voices washing over them once more. It cloaked them like a heavy blanket as they moved into the crowd. The Lady Sunala walked away from them, back up to Doge Busciver, no doubt to keep an eye on him, to assure him that everything would be okay.

“Right,” Joseph said, “I'm going to take a look around the halls again, since if I can't find that other servant.”

“Probably not the best idea,” Rosemary said, “Moriguchi and Ket are already keeping an eye on you.”

“I'm the one who knows what the servant looked like,” he objected.

“Describe him to me,” Rosemary said, “I'll look around the hallways. You keep to the ballroom floor, see if he's here. Keep an eye on Lady Sunala.”

“...Okay,” Joseph said. He shut his eyes, struggling to remember the other servant, “He's human. Tall and lean. Brown hair slicked back to the point of looking like a Ken doll.”

“Ken doll?” Rosemary asked.

Joseph shrugged, “It looks really fake, like he's wearing a wig made of plastic.”

“Wig made of plastic, got it.”

“He's in that same suit that all the other servants are in,” Joseph said.

“I supposed.”

They took another few steps, maneuvering around a couple of lords who were enjoying their wine perhaps a bit too much.

“Be careful,” Joseph said.

“You too,” Rosemary replied. And she split off from him, striding across the room, eyes darting this way and that. Her heart fell as every face was now the face of a killer.

This was Scuttleway, wasn't it?

She couldn't do anything about the knot now blooming in her stomach, one that had not been there before. Looking at the servant's body had shaken Rosemary back to reality. She had told Joseph that Scuttleway's elections were dangerous, but it was one thing to say that and another to experience it.

She had stood apart from all of the politicking, emotionally removing herself from her conversations with Sunala about the players, both major and minor, in the upcoming election. The Houses of Scuttleway had been almost like...

Like characters in a book to her. There was a romance to their games, of the debates about the future of the city, with the phantom-like tension between Rithmound and Busciver, the games the two played. Assassination was a buzzword, wasn't it? No one would actually kill for the chance at becoming Doge. No one was that greedy, that selfish, that prideful...

And yet there was a dead servant in the hallway. A shapeshifter on the loose.

She bobbed her way away from the ballroom floor. The music, once majestic and pure in her ears, now sounded artificial. The laughter around her felt forced, and there was a weariness behind everyone's eyes.

Masks. All of them were wearing masks.

This entire gala was a farce, wasn't it? People weren't here for the dancing and the romance. They were here for the deals made behind locked doors, for the re-affirmations of loyalty to the cause, to the game itself, to the election of the next Doge.

They were here to kill.

She opened up a side door, eyes widening in surprise as a couple stepped through from out of the hallway, glancing this way and that to make sure they hadn't been spotted, giving curt nods to Rosemary, not even noticing her hands shaking as she closed the door after them. She was alone in the hall, now. A cold relief washed over her, now that she was away from...

From...

The false passion. The lies. The deceit of it all.

This place was just like home.

For a moment, Rosemary stood, back against the door. She breathed in. Then out. She picked up her sceptre and held it, feeling the sureness of its grip, an old friend from her life before the guild.

She couldn't break down. She was on a job.

And Rosemary strode out to find a killer.

***

Joseph caught up with Sunala as she made her way across the ballroom floor. The dancers closed in around them, though the imperious glare the noblewoman threw their way made them part around her, as though she were an outcropping of stone against the sea. Joseph stuck close, not wanting to get pulled into the reverie. They were approaching the Doge, who was talking in an animated way to Lord Rithmound, a jovial expression on his face that seemed almost forced. Then, Joseph realized, it had always looked forced. He just hadn't noticed until now. Both of them were near the entrance, the doors open wide to the night, the city burning bright towards the horizon.

“I'm just saying, Lord Rithmound, one must be careful in this day and age,” Busciver said, “You never know what tomorrow will bring.”

“Of course, of course,” Rithmound nodded, “Yesterday is history, tomorrow's a mystery...”

“But today's the gift,” Sunala said.

“Ah,” Rithmound raised an eyebrow, “Lady Sunala.”

“Lord Rithmound,” Sunala said.

“Ah! Lily-Ann,” Busciver said, “Rithmound was just telling me about the recent happenings in the Silver Eye, that terrorist incident that wiped out a city.”

“A city, now?” Sunala said.

Joseph let that particular conversation buzz into the background, crossing his arms and leaning against a pillar, looking towards the gala. This far from the gala proper, he was finding it difficult to pick out individual faces – he wouldn't be able to see Ken doll from this far back, if he was on the floor. For a moment, Joseph was tempted to use his soul's vision, let the eagle's head helmet over his, let the sharper eyes take hold...

But no, that would draw too much suspicion, right?

“Mr. Zheng here is a metahuman,” Sunala said.

“A metahuman, then?” Rithmound said, “How interesting. How fare your people?”

Joseph blinked.

“Err, people-y.”

“I met quite a few metahumans during the war,” Rithmound said, “Not too many come to Scuttleway, though. Becenti is the only one I've met. How is Myron?”

“You know him?” Joseph's curiosity was piqued now.

“Of course,” Rithmound said, “I make it a point to know any veterans of the Darwin Campaigns in the city. We've had a couple drinks, and all that.”

“Interesting,” Joseph said.

Lord Rithmound looked Joseph up and down.

“Tell me, Mr. Zheng, have you a metahuman name?”

“...No?”

“He's only recently gone meta,” Sunala said.

How did she know that?

“Interesting,” Rithmound said, “Come, demonstrate your powers, please.”

They both were looking at him as though he were some sort of zoo animal, now. Busciver too, his annoyingly fake smile plastered on his face. He felt a strong need to flip them all off.

Still, if it allowed him to get a good look at the gala...

“Alright,” he said, “Check it.”

His circuit thundered and rocketed. The eagle sprung from his back, fully formed. For effect, the bird flexed. Busciver gave a delighted laugh, Rithmound nodded in approval, and Sunala was giving a smirk.

And through it all, the eagle's eyes darted towards the gala, searching for the servant...

There.

***

The servants gave Rosemary curious looks as she passed them by. But that was it, as she stalked through the halls like a red wraith, sceptre clutched in her hands like a mace. Moonstone on the Len was dark and creepy outside of the ballroom floor. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, all of it marble, polished and pristine. She could see her reflection when she stared anywhere, and it made her stomach turn. She never really liked the way she looked, and the multitude of reflections staring back at her kept sending chills up her spine.

Most of the servants were goblins and gnomes, nary a human in sight. Then, humans were rare out here, weren't they? You'd think a human servant – with that colorful description that Joseph gave – would be easy to spot.

But no!

The only human she could see was Moriguchi. The Exodus Walker was tailing her as she walked. He didn't even make a good show of it – she could hear his footsteps behind her at almost all times now. She wasn't too concerned, though. Her sceptre was at full charge, and Moriguchi seemed to be keeping an eye on her. No doubt the Exodus Walkers were playing their own game.

Did they know about the shapeshifter?

Perhaps. Maybe they were in league, maybe not. The real clincher was that the shapeshifter could be Moriguchi himself.

That set Rosemary on edge, as she glanced behind her. Moriguchi was at the end of the hall, walking in time with her, matching her every step. If he was the shapeshifter...

Biting her lip, Rosemary continued forward. Down one hall, then the next. Moriguchi seemed to lose interest after a while, breaking off, leading Rosemary to wonder if that was the area that Isaac Rithmound was having his meeting in.

Rosemary stopped, listening. There was no one around, and she had left the lit areas of the manor behind. She was well and completely in the shadows, now. She tried for one of the doors, and she found that most of them were unlocked. That gave her pause. Why would Doge Busciver keep all of his doors unlocked, when he had hundreds of guests attending the gala, any number of which could be snooping through his things?

The Lady Sunala would tell her it was him sending a message to them. That his house was their house, and anything they took could be replaced.

So the entire manor was open, the ballroom an extravagant, beating heart of music and fire. The hallways were the arteries leading in, pumping and bustling with motion to keep everything alive. Food for the guests, water for the orchestra, who would continue playing long into the night, their own marathon.

The rest? A ghost house, where deals could be made.

Which was why Rosemary found it surprising when she found a locked door.

She twisted the knob again. Oh yeah, this girl was locked up tight. A solid mahogany number, with a shining bronze handle. Rosemary glanced over her shoulder. No one was here with her, in the darkness.

If she weren't looking for a murderous shapeshifter, she'd ignore the locked door. No doubt the message the Doge sent only went so far. There was probably a study or two he couldn't afford to lose, some skeletons in the closet that he didn't want random passerby discovering...

But then, she was on a job, and she could have some fun, right? And the shapeshifter had a key.

Smiling, Rosemary pointed her sceptre at the crack between the door and the wall. The lock would be solid metal. And the light of her rose could cut through metal, right?

A flash like the rising sun. The smell of melting iron. And the door opened with an eerie, dark sort of creaking sound. Inside was a small library.

Inside was Joseph's servant, dead as a doornail.

***

And there was his servant, handing a martini over to one of the guests, a plastic smile plastered on his plastic face. Joseph collapsed his soul back into his body, ignoring the near-mocking applause of the Doge and the impressed – almost greedy – look that Rithmound was giving him.

“Excuse me,” he said.

“Of course, Mr. Zheng,” Sunala said, “You have my leave.”

He tried not to feel a bit irked at the dismissive tone Sunala was speaking at him with, choosing instead to bite down a poorly-thought-out retort and weave his way back towards the gala. The servant was chuckling at one of the jokes a rather inebriated noblewoman was making. Joseph made his way slowly to him, trying to keep out of his field of vision. He meandered to a nearby wine casket, letting its bulk hide his form, keeping out of sight while pouring himself a glass, noting that he was starting to get a bit drunk.

He felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Rosemary was back beside him, now.

“May I have this dance?” she asked.

“We can't... talk here?” Joseph said.

“I want to dance,” Rosemary said, she gave him a smile and pulled him towards the floor. The two of them began wheeling in time with the music, joining a circle of waltzers as something similar to Strauss thundered through the ballroom, the orchestra long having left Baroque behind for the Classical period.

“I found the other servant,” Rosemary said, “He's dead.”

Joseph's blood ran cold. He glanced over. Ken doll was still pouring out wine, though his bottle seemed to be getting lighter and lighter in his hands.

“He's not,” he said.

“I found him dead in a study,” Rosemary said, “Did you find him?”

They wheeled about. Joseph lowered Rosemary into a dip.

“Yeah, he's pouring out wine over there,” he said, lifting her back up, “Don't stare too close. He's getting pretty antsy.”

“Shit,” Rosemary said, “That's him, then-”

The servant's eyes were darting to and fro. They landed on the entrance, where Rithmound, Sunala, and the Doge were still talking. With an amicable bow, he drew back from his inebriated guest and began walking over to them.

“Go time,” Joseph said. He broke apart from Rosemary and began to stride forward, heart hammering as the servant picked up his pace. Ken doll was still holding his bottle of wine, though he was holding its neck like it was the handle of a baseball bat.

Or a knife...

Rosemary was beside him now, matching his pace, the grip on her mace making her hands go white.

“If he gets to the Doge, he can just run out into the city-”

“I know,” Joseph said, “Run!”

And they both rushed the servant.

Who turned around, and noticed the two guild members bearing down on him. The servant's eyes went wild for a moment, before he leaped to the side and broke into a dead sprint, pushing a couple of party-goers out of the way. Joseph pivoted, chasing after him. Rosemary pointed her mace for a brief moment, before uttering another “shit” as noblemen and women began getting in the way of her line of sight. She ran after Joseph, heart falling as the servant made it to one of the side doors, opening it up and slamming it behind him. Joseph got to the door a moment later, wrenching it open, eagle's head overtaking his own, overtaking the soft orange lights of the hallway with a burning blue.

The servant wasn't there. With a dark look, Joseph stepped into the hallway, taking a look around, eagle rising further out of his back.

“He'll be gone, Joe,” Rosemary said behind him.

“No shit,” Joseph said, “This isn't good.”

“Let's tell Sunala to keep an eye out,” Rosemary said.

“You don't understand,” Joseph said, “We had him, right there. If we hadn't just run at him-”

“He was going after the Doge, Joseph,” Rosemary said.

Joseph sighed.

“Yeah. But we had him figured out. Now he'll know we know he killed the other servant. He'll disappear.”

The eagle dissolved, small sparks flitting in the air as it disappeared like azure fireflies. Joseph's look was hard and guilt-ridden.

“He'll kill other servants and take their place. We could've stopped him here and now. All we did was get more people killed.”