“That's five times now that the metahuman's gone through the halls,” Moriguchi recounted.

He and Ket were just outside the door where Isaac Rithmound was finishing his meeting with Lady Doria. They were almost finished, with Isaac's voice coming thin through the closed door, he seemed to be wrapping up the extensive trade deal that would seal the fate of the Busciver administration. Familial goodwill only went so far, after all. It was money that made the multiverse spin.

“And the elf?” Ket asked.

“Who, Rosemary?” Moriguchi said, “I've seen her a couple times. Stalking about the place, but I relented soon enough. She's looking for someone, I can tell.”

“Perhaps the dead servant.”

“Perhaps,” Moriguchi said, cracking a knuckle absently, “Once Raulito finishes his meeting, let's keep an eye on our Amber Foundation friends. They're acting rather suspicious.”

Ket nodded. The two Exodus Walkers waited for another ten minutes before the lock behind them clicked, and Isaac Rithmound emerged from the dark room.

“The Lady Doria will be coming out soon enough,” the young noble said, “My thanks for keeping watch.”

“Of course,” Moriguchi said, “Come, let's get to the ball. I could use a drink.”

Isaac smirked.

“Very well, then,” he said, “A drink for the bodyguards. Hopefully it won't dull your senses too much.”

They stepped out of the shadows and into the half-lit hall, moving from the progressive darkness and into the light, until the world became a full blare of music and festivity. Isaac once more painted on a face of good cheer, almost as though he were an actor as they re-entered the gala. Moriguchi noticed Ket's snout twitch and wrinkle as he stared out the door.

“The things we must endure,” Moriguchi said.

“Yes,” Ket replied. Without another word he stepped out into the party proper, standing up straighter and hands balling into fists. Moriguchi sauntered out behind him, taking a glass of wine from a tray.

And realized he was still wearing his mask, and thus could not drink. With a sigh, Moriguchi returned it to the servant.

“The things we must endure,” he repeated.

***

Sunala nodded as Joseph recounted everything that had gone down. She had retreated to the top second floor, keeping an eye out on the gala. Joseph was surreptitiously glancing down on the first floor, tracking to see if Ken doll appeared. But the fact that the shapeshifter knew they were onto him meant he had retreated into the darkness of the hallways once more.

“And the Doge doesn't want to call off the gala at all?” Joseph said, “People are dead, Sunala.”

“He's aware,” Sunala said.

Joseph crossed his arms, a hint of anger edging into his voice.

“So he cares more about some damn party than the lives of his servants.”

“Yes,” Sunala said, “He does.”

“And you don't care, either?” Joseph accused.

“I do care,” Sunala said, “That's why I'm having you and Rosemary look into this for me, and leave me unprotected.”

“Why would the assassin be after you?” Joseph said.

“He could be either after me or the Doge,” Sunala said, “We've similar influences and have two of the most important roles in the administration. My ties to the Elvish communities across the multiverse keeps Scuttleway on the map, after all.”

“Right,” Joseph said, “So you don't care.”

Sunala raised an eyebrow.

“There is much riding on this gala, Mr. Zheng. Dimensions and ramifications that are just beneath the surface. The deals that are being made here, behind locked doors and in the subtle language of the nobility could make or break the election.”

“And that's why you're just going to let that deal Lady Doria's making with Rithmound just lie,” Joseph said.

“You think we're not already making counterplay?” Sunala said, “It's not only assassins and servants that stalk the halls tonight.”

“Whatever,” Joseph said, “If you're not going to call the whole thing off, that's your prerogative. But it just means...”

He trailed off.

“Yes, Mr. Zheng?” Sunala said.

“It means that the deaths here are on your head,” he finished.

“I...” that flustered the noblewoman for just the briefest of moments. But unlike back at Chliofrond, she was in her element here. This was her home turf. She could not afford weakness, especially here.

“I know,” she said, “So find that shapeshifter, before you let him kill anyone else.”

***

Rosemary was down below on the first floor, having long ago forgone the offers of dance by nervous lords and ladies, instead sitting by a wine casket and listening to an idle conversation between two noblemen.

“Of course, Busciver's trade deals are tricky,” the first one, a large walrus of an ogre, was saying, “Far too complex for my tastes.”

“That's how he gets you,” the second, a needle-nosed gnome, stated, “By making them long and complicated, he can sneak whatever he wants into there. He learned it from his days working on Kelstonda, or some such. Always reads what he says...”

“At least Rithmound's honest,” the ogre said.

“Still on that, eh?” the gnome said, “Rithmound's as honest as a serpent, and a wardog to boot. Not a merchant. And the Doge needs to be a merchant. Listen, come over to my place tomorrow night, a couple other in the Tailor's Association have been talking about a few tariffs the the Doge is talking about lifting. If he wins the election, of course...”

She rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her wine. Better to be out here at the ball, close to the Doge, in case the shapeshifter tried anything. She kept positioning herself near to him as he and Lord Rithmound strutted across the ballroom floor, laughing and making idle conversation, refusing to let the other out of his sight.

Her grip on her sceptre tightened whenever someone drew too close. And she always made sure that she had a clean shot.

There, the Doge was moving away again, waddling his way over to a wine casket. A servant drew up beside him – something that made Rosemary's spine tingle. But no, the servant was just there to taste the wine. He was soon on his way. She made her way over, maneuvering around a couple gala-goers-

Felt a hand on her shoulder, warm and strong.

Too strong.

“Hola, Rosemary.”

“Moriguchi,” Rosemary said.

“May I have this dance?” the Exodus Walker asked.

She glared at him for a few moments. Moriguchi carried himself casually, yet there was a dangerous edge to his voice that she couldn't ignore.

“Of course,” Rosemary offered a hand. Moriguchi took it, the two of them waltzing off. They danced in silence for a few moments, getting into the swing of the ball, the music becoming slow and romantic.

It was only after the end of a particularly long sequence that Moriguchi spoke.

“So,” he said, “What are you doing in the halls?”

“Looking for servants,” Rosemary said.

“Why? Surely there are many out here,” Moriguchi replied.

“Why were you following me?” Rosemary countered, “Not a good look, stalking a girl like me through dark halls.”

“True, that,” Moriguchi said, “My apologies. Security, and all that.”

“Same,” Rosemary said.

“Odd that you're doing all that searching in the halls, when your client has been in the gala the whole time.”

“Same can be said for you,” Rosemary said, “Weren't you supposed to guard Lord Rithmound?”

That caught Moriguchi off guard. He was quiet for the rest of the piece, his conversation simmering down to nothing as he kept in pace with Rosemary. Finally, at the end of the crescendo, he broke away, giving a tip of his sombrero.

“My thanks for the dance, Rosemary,” Moriguchi said.

And then he was gone. Melted back into the crowd. Rosemary glared at the sea of bodies that he had sunk into. Then she turned to her vigil.

She had wasted enough time on dance and pomp.

***

“They're definitely up to something,” Moriguchi said, getting back over to Ket.

“Of course,” Ket said, “Amber Foundation is not a guild of bodyguards.”

“True, that,” Moriguchi said. He cast a sad look down at the chute of white wine in Ket's hand. The rabbit, noticing, sipped.

“You can take off the mask,” he said.

“No,” Moriguchi said, “The mask stays on. It is my honor. My life-”

He deflated a bit when he noticed Ket visibly stop caring, instead viewing the gala floor, keeping a razor-edge eye on Isaac Rithmound as he made his way back to Lady Busciver. He struck up conversation with her once more, the young gnome instantly becoming far more animated than she had been before at the hobgoblin's approach.

“I suspect the Amber Foundation realizes we're guarding Raulito, and not Lord Rithmound,” Moriguchi said, “Rosemary seemed just as suspicious at my tailing her in the halls.”

“You're too obvious,” Ket said.

“You literally escorted Joseph to the bathrooms like he was some sort of prison inmate,” Moriguchi said.

Ket was quiet at that, glaring down at his guildmate.

“Regardless,” Moriguchi said, “I'm glad Isaac seems to be having a good time now. Apparently that was the last deal that needed to be made.”

“A single stroke,” Ket said, “A House falls.”

“One of many,” Moriguchi said, “But this was the most important, I'd suppose. Not really our business, is it?”

“True.”

Moriguchi felt nature call.

“Right,” he said, “I'm going back. Think you can handle watching Isaac alone?”

“Where are you going?” Ket asked.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Moriguchi said, “For real. Honest! Don't look at me like that, I have to piss.”

***

In truth, Moriguchi was speaking to the truth. With Isaac back in the ball falling hopelessly in love with Lady Busciver – a story that could only end in tragedy, he knew – the hallways seemed less foreboding now, less threatening. He looked this way and that...

“Can I help you, sir?” a servant asked.

“Yes,” Moriguchi said, “I seem to have lost my way to the restroom.”

“Take a right, then another right,” the servant said, “Hors d'oeuvre?”

“No,” Moriguchi said, “But thank you.”

The servant looked familiar. Moriguchi remembered him as a servant who he had run into before, back when he was stalking after Joseph in the halls. Keeping that in mind, just in case, Moriguchi made his way to the bathroom. Here, the orchestra's din drew to a mere whisper, walled by the many marble hallways that bridged between here and there. Moriguchi made his way to a stall, whistling an old tune from back home as he unzipped and relieved himself.

He heard the door open behind him just as he was finishing up. Footsteps echoed over the muted roar of the orchestra, sharp and direct. Moriguchi zipped back up. There was something off. The air had changed – from stale and bathroom-like to stuffy, almost electrified.

Something was wrong.

The newcomer was behind him.

“Look,” Moriguchi said, “I know you-”

Movement. Fast, the Exodus Walker twisted to the side. Not fast enough, a steak knife cutting clean through his side. But Moriguchi was a roshador. He was used to pain and freshly-spilled blood as he shot out a hand, snatching the extended arm of his attacker, squeezing and crushing his wrist as he raised his right arm and brought it down like a hammer.

He was quite surprised to see his attacker to be Joseph, penguin suit and all, who took the blow directly in the forehead. With a snarl, Joseph struck back, free hand ringing a shot into Moriguchi's gut, a surprisingly hard hit that knocked the wind out of him. Moriguchi released his hold, coughing and gasping, heart hammering as Joseph swung the knife again. Moriguchi was ready this time, however, twisting to the side and grappling Joseph again. The two of them wrestled for a brief moment, the Exodus Walker bashing Joseph's knife hand against the wall, making the Amber Foundation release his grip, before bodily picking him up and piledriving him into the ground. The tile beneath cracked as Joseph broke against the floor. For a moment, he lay still, Moriguchi breathing heavily and clutching his side, a full torrent of red now staining his nice charro.

Then, Joseph scrambled up quickly, scrabbling away like an injured dog, shoving the door open and running away. Moriguchi, exhausted from the sudden skirmish, stood there, leaning against the wall, painting it crimson.

“D-don't keep up,” he muttered.

***

“A problem,” Ket said.

He had found Moriguchi after he noted that the roshador had still not returned from his break. Taking a moment to glare at Isaac Rithmound for a moment, torn between his guard and the safety of his friend (these were dark circumstances, after all), Ket gave a sigh and went into the hallways, taking a right, then a right towards the restrooms. He had found Moriguchi bleeding out, using the wall to support himself.

That's where the two were now, as Ket gingerly wrapped a bandage around Moriguchi's stomach. The entire restroom was a mess, with blood marring the walls and floor, the tile cracked and spider-webbed as though a bomb had gone off in the room's dead center.

“Really,” Ket said, “Did you have to make a scene?”

“He stabbed me,” Moriguchi said, “Of course I had to.”

“Hmm,” Ket growled.

“We'll need to lock up this restroom,” Moriguchi said, “Make it so that no one comes in-”

They heard movement behind them. Both of them watched as Isaac Rithmound burst inside, hand in hand with the Lady Busciver. For a moment, the two groups stared at each other. Lady Busciver went pale.

“Hola, Raulito,” Moriguchi said.

“...Hi,” Isaac said.

“Don't mind us,” Moriguchi made to stand up straight, letting out a sudden gasp of pain as he did so, “Just... business.”

“I... can see that,” Isaac said.

“We're going to lock up the bathroom,” Moriguchi said, “You two might want to find somewhere else.”

“Don't gotta tell me twice,” Isaac said, “Let's go, Buscie.”

“A-alright,” the gnome said. Rithmound guided her out of the restroom.

“Can we trust the girl?” Ket asked.

“Reasonably, they're in love,” Moriguchi said.

“She could be lying,” Ket said.

“Ah, no, no,” Moriguchi said, “The look she was giving him, Ket. That's love, right there.”

“Hmm,” Ket rumbled.

“They'll lock themselves up somewhere, nice and safe from the Amber Foundation,” Moriguchi said, “Odd that Joseph didn't use his powers over here.”

“You've heard the stories,” Ket said, “They're rather obvious. Maybe he didn't want to make a scene.”

“Perhaps,” Moriguchi took a shaky step forward.

“You should not move,” Ket said, “I bandaged you up, but we should get you some proper medical attention.”

“No,” Moriguchi said, “I shouldn't be here, I should be-”

Ket glared at Moriguchi. The roshador sighed.

“Very well,” he said, “Shall we make this bathroom our home base, then?”

“No,” Ket said, “Joseph will know we're here. If he means to finish you off...”

“I don't think he did,” Moriguchi said, “Otherwise I'd be dead. That knife was fast, Ket. Faster than I anticipated. He knew how quick I am. If he had just gone a bit more to the left...”

“Questions for him, then,” Ket said.

“Indeed,” Moriguchi said, “Shall we?”

“You're good to walk?”

Moriguchi nodded.

“As fine as I'll ever be,” he said, “Lead the way, my brave friend.”

Ket rolled his eyes.

***

Joseph had been on the second floor the entire time, keeping an eye with Sunala at the dance below. He didn't much feel like joining in the reverie, that little inkling that maybe this would be a fun evening having trickled away with the dead servant. So he simply stood at the balcony and glowered down like a vulture, keeping an eye out for anything, anything at all.

Rosemary was below, watching for danger on the first floor. It was a more dangerous game, now, one where they had to watch for when the shapeshifter made the first move.

They had lost the initiative.

So Joseph was being especially attentive, a dark sort of anger taking hold over him, familiar and annoyed.

“Well, Mr. Zheng?” Sunala said.

“Don't talk to me,” Joseph said.

“Very well,” Sunala said, “I have a few more people to chat with, then I'll be finished. Care to accompany me?”

“Fine,” Joseph said.

Sunala ignored his terse reply, and the way his movements were stocky and slow as she moved from the balcony and towards one of the guests. The old crone that she approached walked with a cane, an old hobgoblin so bent over with age Joseph was pretty sure she had broken her back long ago, and had just healed funny. Nonetheless, she was wearing her finest, a dark blue dress with peacock feathers trailing the floor behind her, a serene smile on her face.

“Ah, Lady Doria,” Sunala said.

“Lily-Ann,” Lady Doria brightened, “How good to see you. Have you been hiding?”

“Of course not,” Sunala said, “But I haven't seen hide nor hair of you since I came here.”

“Oh,” Doria gave a wave, “I've been here, I've been there. I'm short, Lily-Ann, us short folk tend to disappear into the crowd.”

Sunala, to her credit, was a fine actress indeed, as she gave a polite smile to Doria's bald-faced lie. Joseph, despite himself, was impressed.

“Come,” Sunala said, “Have a drink with me.”

“Thank you,” Doria said, “I haven't had a drop all night.”

Joseph followed a bit behind as the two of them made for one of the wine caskets. Sunala did the pouring, keeping her amicable smile, a mask to hide her true feelings from Doria, who accepted it with good grace, mirroring Sunala, a polite and cheerful grin painted on that old bag that was her face.

“I trust you've been having a pleasant evening,” Sunala said.

“Of course,” Doria replied, “It's been wonderful.”

“Even though you haven't had a drop of wine,” Sunala said, “Lady Doria, your reputation must be in tatters.”

“Ah, yes,” Doria chuckled, “'The Thirsty Lady,' that's what they called me, eh?”

“Indeed,” Sunala said, “Changing your ways?”

There was a dangerous edge to Sunala's statement. Doria just smiled, not daring to take the bait. She took a sip of her wine, pursing her lips.

“This wine's not too bad,” she said, “Not as aged as I prefer, though.”

“Imported from Ellonwen,” Sunala said, “Clear on the other side of Londoa.”

“Indeed,” Doria said.

The two were quiet for a moment.

“There goes Busciver,” Sunala said, “He's been with Lord Rithmound all night.”

“They'll be announcing their engagement any day, now,” Doria said.

“Oh, you know what they say,” Sunala said, “Keep your friends close...”

“And your enemies closer,” Doria raised her glass, “To friends and enemies, then.”

Sunala clinked.

And smiled her amicable smile.

And Joseph saw, behind her, as she took another sip of wine, the servant.

Ken doll.

The shapeshifter. He was holding a plate of hors d'oeuvres, and when he took notice of Joseph he stopped, before shoving the entire plate into the hands of one of the guests before turning around and power-walking.

“Excuse me,” Joseph said, “I see him.”

“Of course,” Sunala said, “Good hunting, Mr. Zheng.”

Joseph matched the shapeshifter's speed, shoving servants and guests aside with impunity as he pursued the servant across the second floor and to the door.

“Oh no,” he said, “Not this time.”

He quickened his pace, breaking into a full sprint just as the servant began to close the door. Joseph reached out, summoning his soul, a claw arcing out, the longer reach stopping the door before it could be fully closed. The servant let out a gasp as Joseph rushed into the hall, tackling him to the ground. For a moment, he let his soul roar to life, neon claws clutching the servant's arm and neck, keeping him pinned-

“Sorry, dude,” the shapeshifter said, “Not bad, though.”

And then he began to melt. His form began to smear as though he were a lit candle, before he turned into a gray goo that oozed out of Joseph's grip. Then, he bolted, slipping across the ground like it were ice, far faster than Joseph could have imagined.

***

Ket stalked after Joseph, a dark rumble boiling in his stomach. The metahuman was running down the hall, obviously in a panic of some sort. Perhaps he had seen Ket, and the source of his flight. Perhaps he had not, and was running after another target in the gala.

It mattered little to Ket. He had to put the Amber Foundation down.

He traced a claw as he went. Shadows pulled free from the dancing of flames and light, no longer bound to them. They dragged behind Ket as he went.

There was work to be done.

***

“Hey!” Joseph yelled. He ran after the shapeshifter, who turned a corner. Joseph ran after him-

He could see the shapeshifter change form halfway down the hall, morphing into the servant once more. He turned and gave a wave to Joseph mid-gait, an absolutely arrogant smile on his face.

Joseph saw red. He picked up his speed, bearing down on the shapeshifter, who opened up another door and ran through. Joseph followed.

It was a dance room, like the one at Castle Belenus, though this one was much larger. There was a broad mat striping down the middle of the floor, and, squinting in the half-light coming from the open door, Joseph could see fencing equipment tucked away in the corner – two sabers and a meshed helmet.

Then the door closed behind him. Joseph spun, glaring at it for a moment. He was cast completely in shadow. No matter. Joseph's circuit took hold, erupting the eagle out of his back.

Then the panic returned as he noted that the eagle's light only cast a few feet out in front of him, as opposed to swallowing the whole room. His soul was like a blue sun, its light magnificent and powerful. He sometimes used it at night so Phineas could have light to read his magazines.

Something was snuffing it out.

Someone was snuffing it out.

“Mr. Zheng,” he heard a deep, familiar voice behind him, “I would like to have a word.”

And Ket was upon him, bearing down on him, his hands splayed, the points at the end sharpening into claws as he swung. His soul's arm blocked the blow, a cold cut splashing down its arm as Joseph leaped back.

And Ket was gone once more, sinking into the shadows, swimming through them like water. Joseph gritted his teeth as the recoil from Ket's shot entered through his spine. His soul took a boxer's stance, arms front and center, eyes glaring around the room. Joseph mirrored it, closing his own to minimize the disorientation that came from looking out of four eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” Joseph said, “I've got enough on my plate as is, pal.”

Ket struck again. This time, Joseph was ready, pivoting while his soul made for a haymaker. Its fist collided with the rabbit, smacking him across the room and back into the darkness.

Only for him to erupt beneath Joseph's feet, claws slashing. Joseph brought up an arm defensively, letting the claws cut through his nice suit's sleeve and into flesh, his other arm going for a jab to the stomach. Ket jumped back, the shadows taking him once more.

“Counter-punching,” Joseph said, looking at his tattered sleeve, “Still got it.”

They were back at an impasse once more. Joseph glaring around the place, eyes still clenched shut, letting the eagle's vision sharpen the room. He could occasionally make out Ket in the darkness, which roiled like waves on an obsidian sea, the rabbit's head just poking over the surface.

“What the hell do you want, Ket?” Joseph said.

“Still playing the fool,” Ket said.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Joseph growled.

Ket rushed him once more. Joseph was ready, however, twisting around, his soul's claws meeting the rabbits, the two dancing in a quick skirmish of talon and nail, but the soul was a hair faster than Ket, getting beneath the rabbit's guard, swinging downwards at his legs to knock him off balance. Ket scrunched, then jumped high into the air-

Just for Joseph to collapse his soul and point a finger at the rabbit. Lightning sparked across his arm, so bright in spite of the suffocating black, and he let out a bolt that speared through the rabbit, causing a great boom that deafened his ears and made his hair stand on end...

***

The thunder clapped through Moonstone on the Len, a deep, creaking roar that made the glass chandelier high above sway for a moment, before settling down. Conversation ceased. Noblemen and women looked at one another, a few whispers were exchanged here and there. The music faltered, the conductor, Rinovsky, not noticing that her orchestra had stopped their playing as she made a few more waves of her baton, though she dropped that with a glare.

“No one said anything about a storm...” one of the lords next to Rosemary murmured, “And the sky seemed so clear this morning.”

“Bah, can never trust the weather nowadays,” another said, “Damn eln meia and their wars, those storm mages are messing up Londoa's entire weather system.”

But Rosemary knew it wasn't a thunderstorm outside. She glanced over to the Doge, who cleared his throat and gestured to the gala, his voice sharp and commanding over the quiet commotion.

“It's just a bit of thunder!” Busciver said, “A little rain never hurt us! Now, come on, then!”

He nodded to Rinovsky, who shrugged and turned. The orchestra started up once more. It was as though time became unfrozen as people returned to their reverie once more. Rosemary broke off from her vigil over the Doge, making her way up the stairs to the second floor. She met Lady Sunala halfway, the two of them exchanging a look.

“The shapeshifter?” Rosemary asked.

Sunala nodded.

“The door by the statue of the crab,” Sunala said, “He went through there. Happy hunting, Rosemary.”

Rosemary gritted her teeth and began rushing, sceptre glowing in her hand.

***

For a moment, all was silent. Joseph breathed in and out, lightning crackling the air, which now smelled strongly of ozone. Ket was steaming and crumpled on the ground, the shadows having lost their overbearing aura. For a moment, Joseph thought he had killed the rabbit, an odd sense of guilt coming to him-

And then the shadows became suffocating once more. They wrapped themselves around Ket, who rose. A star-shaped burn had blasted through his chest and annihilated his nice suit, though that was patching up and healing, the suit re-sewing itself back into place. Ket was leaning forward like an animal, despite his wear, that wild look returning to his eye.

“A fair shot,” his voice was hoarse and ragged, “My turn.”

And he rocketed forward. Joseph's soul manifested, making a swipe that caught nothing but air as Ket disappeared, re-appearing behind the eagle, his claws inked with darkness as he threw a wicked cut that tore the eagle through, cold rushing down Joseph's spine as plasma spilled like blood onto the ground, which steamed and dissipated. He took a step forward, but found his movement swamped – Joseph looked down to see that ropes of darkness had wrapped around his legs, holding him fast as Ket pounced once more, this time landing on top of the soul, claws wrapping around its neck and cutting deep. Joseph gritted his teeth, falling to a knee.

The soul reverbed back into his body, Ket falling with it, the rabbits grabbing the back of Joseph's hand and slamming his face into the ground. He heard a deep crack and felt red-hot agony bloom from his nose. His vision was blurry as he felt Ket yank his head upwards by his hair, kneeling over him, his other claw ready to gouge his throat-

Joseph's hand shot out, lightning crackling around it as he pushed it against Ket's chest.

The two stopped, breathing heavily, not daring to make a move.

“Y-you...” Joseph's mind swam through the pain, “You know how to really make an e-evening, d-don't you.”

“Hmm,” Ket growled.

“Don't lie,” Joseph said, “You could've killed me, there. W-what do you want?”

“A good question,” a third voice entered the conversation. Moriguchi's. The Exodus Walker had opened the door into the gym, light flooding in from the hallway. And he had been in a scrap, his coat and undershirt abandoned, replaced by a thick wrap of bandages stained red.

“Hola, Joseph.”

“...Hola,” Joseph replied.

“You're in quite the stalemate, there,” Moriguchi said, “Good. You can't move.”

He entered into the proper.

“Let's talk.”

“Yes, let's,” Rosemary said behind him.

She was pointing her mace at his back, which gleamed with the force of the Inner Sun, a ferocious look on her face, her blood-red dress nearly shining from her glow.

“One step, Moriguchi, and I drill a hole through your back,” she said, “One to pair with the limp you didn’t have before. You've been busy.”

“As has your guildmate,” Moriguchi said, “I've got him to thank for the loss of my favorite charro.”

Rosemary, despite herself, quirked an eyebrow.

“I-I did?” Joseph said, “It was a good look.”

“It was, my papá gave it to me,” Moriguchi said.

“...Moriguchi,” Rosemary said, “Can you trust me on something?”

“No,” Moriguchi said.

“Fair,” Rosemary said, “But hear me out for a second, alright?”

“The elf speaks naught but lies,” Ket warned.

“I-in a bind anyways, pal,” Joseph said, “Might as well listen.”

The rabbit glared at Joseph.

“Very well,” he said, “Speak, Amber Foundation.”

“Right,” Rosemary said, “Joseph and I have reason to believe a shapeshifter's infiltrated the gala. He's been killing servants and impersonating them.”

“Neat,” Moriguchi said.

“You said Joseph... ruined your charo?”

“Charro, Rosemary,” Moriguchi said, “Have to roll the 'r.'”

“Did he attack you?”

“Of course he did,” Moriguchi said, “Came at me with a knife-”

He caught onto her meaning.

“Ahhh, so that's the alibi, then,” he said, “A likely story.”

“Far too convenient,” Ket said.

“I agree,” Moriguchi said.

“It's the truth,” Joseph said.

“And you expect me to believe that?” Moriguchi said.

“There are bodies,” Rosemary said, “Two servants, dead-”

“Another one?” Moriguchi supposed, “Thought there was only one.”

Rosemary blinked.

“You knew one of them was dead?!” she yelled, “Which one?”

“The one in the study,” Moriguchi said, “Found him, while I was tailing Joseph. Thought it was just regular old political intrigue, so I let it be.”

“Then you know s-something's up,” Joseph said.

“Yes,” Moriguchi agreed, “But that's not sufficient evidence for me to think that there's a shapeshifter here.”

“...What did he do to you?” Rosemary asked.

“Stabbed me,” Moriguchi said.

“And what did you do to him?”

“Gave him a good wallop to the head, piledrived him into the bathroom floor,” Moriguchi said.

“And Joseph would have a bruise from that,” Rosemary said.

That stopped the Exodus Walker. He stood there for a moment in silence.

“...Yes, I suppose he would,” Moriguchi said.

“And does he, Ket?” Rosemary asked.

The rabbit glared at Joseph's mashed-up face.

“No,” he said, “Nor does he sport any injuries from having been driven into the ground. He only sports the wounds I have given him.”

“Could have been healing magic,” Moriguchi said.

“I'm not much for that,” Rosemary said.

Moriguchi went quiet. Below, they could all hear the sounds of the gala, of the music and fanfare, and the darker revelations of the night made the Exodus Walker sway slightly.

“Can you t-trust us?” Joseph asked.

“No,” Ket said.

“Not really,” Moriguchi said, “But...”

“A s-shapeshifter came in here,” Joseph said, “Where did it go?”

Rosemary began looking around the room.

“Think he's still here?”

“No,” Ket said, “If a being was in here, I would know. The shadows in this room are mine.”

“T-then he l-left,”

“He could be after the Doge now,” Joseph said.

“...True,” Moriguchi said, “But he's not after Isaac Rithmound.”

“He could be,” Rosemary said.

Another bout of silence.

“He could be after anyone,” Rosemary ventured, “We don't know, only that he went after the Doge, Lady Sunala, and Lord Rithmound with the intention to kill one or all of them. He's been disguising himself as Joseph and attacked you to draw away any other guilds from the ballroom floor.”

The music took on a more discordant movement.

“The longer we're in here, fighting each other,” Rosemary said, “The more opportunities the shapeshifter has to kill his target.”

“And we don't know who it is,” Moriguchi said.

“It could be anyone,” Rosemary said, “So for the sake of it, we need to make a truce, protect our own clients. Or, at the very least, stop trying to kill each other.”

“...Deal,” Ket said.

Moriguchi looked at the rabbit.

“Are you sure?” he said.

“The metahuman fought well,” Ket said, “And what they've said holds true.”

He turned back to Joseph.

“I don't trust you,” he said, “I will keep my eyes on you at all times this night. Are we clear?”

“Same goes for you,” Joseph said, “Now lemme go.”

Ket released Joseph's hair, and he fell to the floor. Rosemary rushed over to Joseph's side, helping him up. At once the shadows ceased their claustrophobic aura, and the room brightened considerably. Moriguchi walked over and offered a hand to the both of them.

“Let's just get this over with, eh, amigo?”