The crowds in the market square had almost died down, when Werond and Serena had burst out from the tavern. The lanterns above the square had been snuffed out, the only remaining light coming from the various torches that burned around the street corners.

It wasn’t difficult to follow Serena; the streets were empty, save from the few nervous looking guards that stood on the street corners. Despite that, she couldn’t keep pace, having underestimating just how fast Serena was. Serena was already arguing with one of the guards in front of the city gate. He wore a simple outfit of plate armor over a padded tunic, just like the rest of the guards, and blocked the smaller door built into the gate.

He frowned as Serena’s fingers flew. Despite the light, Werond couldn’t make them out.

“And I’ve said already ma’am,” the guard replied, shifting his weight, causing his plate armor to chink together. “I’m under strict orders to not open the gate for –”

“My wagon is on that caravan!” Serena signed, just as Werond caught up, out of breath. “I’ve got all my stuff in there – sir, if anything happens, I’ll go broke!”

Serena glanced at Werond, worried look across her face. Werond nodded and sucked down a breath.

“Sir,” she began, struggling to keep her breathing even, “my boss is right, we have some…high-quality goods on our wagon, and…if something is going on, we need to be there. We need to check with our associates that nothing has happened.”

The guard slumped his shoulders.

“Ladies,” he said. “I understand the problem, I do. But I’ve got orders. If I go against them and something happens –”

“Nothing’ll happen!” Serena signed. “I saw all the guards run out, if there’s that many, we’d be okay!”

“No, you’d be another liability for everyone. Ma’am, I’m sorry, I can’t let either of you through.”

Werond’s heart sank; from the look on the guard’s face, she knew he wanted to help, but orders were orders. Short of bribery, there wouldn’t be a way through.

As she turned to Serena, to say as much, her boss stepped closer to the guard.

“Okay, okay. That’s fine. But…could you open the latch…thing, whatever it is, so we could at least see what’s going on? If I could just see our wagon, why…”

Serena slumped her shoulders and gave the guard the best set of doe-eyes Werond had seen.

“That would be more than enough.” She signed, voice higher than normal.

Werond stared, utterly confused; where had that come from?

Confusion snapped to bewilderment as the guard, though hesitant, nodded and turned around.

“Alright, that’s fine, least I can do.” He undid a hook and shoved open a latch on the door, providing a small view of the grass outside. “Here, there’s a block you can stand on if –”

Without a sound, Serena vanished into a cloud of silver mist.

Werond jumped back, eyes wide, and yelled in shock as the guard jumped.

“What in the Nine Hells! Did –” the guard sputtered. He spun on his heel and bent over to look out the latch. He swore and began unlocking the door. “Fucking magicians! Gods damnit!”

He swung open the door, providing Werond with a clear view outside.

Serena, mist dissipating around her, was already halfway towards the curved line of wagons.

A large amount of torch light burned near the end of the caravan line, closer to the road leading away from town. The line was laid in a rough C shape and she realized that the front wagon – the guard wagon – lay on its side. Even from the gates, she could make out the black marks burned into the wood, along with the shattered wheels and torn canvas. Some paces away from the overturned wagon, a group of guards stood in a semi-circle around Jo, who, even from a distance, looked as though she’d been through hell and back. Her hands were on her hips, and she occasionally waved an arm violently towards the city, causing the guards to shift about uncomfortably.

The gate guard began to run out, slow in his plate; Werond ran out behind and past him, ignoring his cries of protest.

Serena was already talking to Jo by the time Werond had gotten halfway. As she did – eyes finally adjusting to the darkness – she realized that some teamsters were poking their heads from their wagons, looking around with fearful expressions. As she dashed by the Zultan’s carriage, she saw that the teamsters were sitting on the driver’s bench, heads close together, as they talked in hushed voices.

Serena had already dashed off behind Jo and around the flipped guard wagon by the time Werond caught up to the group. She halted behind the guards, bent over, hands on her knees and sucking in air, as the guards half turned towards her.

“…she doing here?!” One of the guards exclaimed. “Another! Ma’am, we’re trying to get this situation under control –”

“What?!” Jo yelled, causing the guards to flinch; up close, Werond realized that her tunic was splattered with blood, along with dark streaks of dirt rubbed across her chest and face, as though she’d been dragged face down. “You haven’t done anything but show up once it’s over! What the fuck is the point of paying dues to the city if we don’t get any protection!? The one job you have, and you fail to do it!”

“Jo –” Werond began, catching her breath.

“Ma’am,” another guard spoke. “we raced out the moment –”

Jo whirled on the guard.

“I know how your fucking bell works!” she bellowed. “It didn’t go off until we cleaned up the mess! How dare you claim that when civilians died under your watch!”

“Jo!” Werond said, pushing past the guards. “What happened?! Who died?”

Johana turned towards Werond; her hands were balled into fists, arms shaking from how tightly they were clenched.

“The wife.” She said, forcing her voice to remain even.

“The wife…” Werond’s eyes widened. “Did she?”

“Got him behind the wagon.”

Werond’s heart plummeted.

“What –”

“She leapt at us. Got to him before we could react. Cruck’aa and I…” Johana sucked in a breath. “We stopped her. Fucking, he flew off as soon as we did. Pavel was with the husband but…”

Jo stared at her feet, bit her lip, and breathed heavily from her nose; Werond knew she had barely known the Drow, yet there seemed to be a worn anger behind her words.

“I’m…so sorry Jo.” She said. “I’m sure you did everything you could.”

“Yeah.” Jo didn’t meet her gaze. “Right.”

Everyone lapsed into silence, the crackling of the torches the only sound that filled the clearing. Unsure of what else to say, Werond stepped forward and patted Jo’s shoulder, before moving past her. As she did, the tinkering of the gate guard became louder, as he finally caught up.

Only slightly winded, he said, “Ma’am, please, can you –”

“Don’t you fucking talk to my caravan member.” Jo spat.

The guard sputtered; Jo launched into another verbal attack, this time settled on the new guard, but Werond tuned them out.

A weight seemed to settle in her chest, and try as she might, Werond couldn’t ignore it. She had no love for Lord Zultan, but she never wished something like this upon him.

As she walked towards the overturned guard wagon, the details of whatever had taken place became clearer. The wagon looked worse up close; someone had lit a torch and fastened it to the side, allowing her to see the destruction clearly. An explosion had smashed into the side, shattering the frame, and flipping it onto the grass. The wheels on one side had exploded, with the scattered spokes being the only indication, and whatever had destroyed it had burned through the canvas covering with ease.

Werond shook her head. Good only for scrap now.

A muffled voice came from behind the overturned wagon. Werond walked around the wooden carcass, a dull apprehensiveness pulling her breath away.

Pavel, some feet away, kneeled over the body of Lord Zultan. His red eyes were still open, staring at the empty sky. Blood had soaked the grass under the Drow, and the gashes raked across his chest still seemed to ooze slightly. Pavel’s hands were coated up to his wrists in blood; just like Jo, he looked as though someone had dragged him through the dirt, his half-plate unclasped and dangling, with his tunic torn in various places.

Serena stood on the other side of Lord Zultan’s body, frozen in place, save for the occasion twitch of her fingers.

Werond’s stomach lurched; beyond them, at the farthest edge of the torchlight, lay the twisted body of Lady Zultan. Though she couldn’t make out any details, the ground under the body was stained dark. Werond adverted her gaze from the body, and slowly walked over to Pavel and Serena.

“…on him faster than I knew,” Pavel said. “threw something at the wagon, he went flying, slashed him pretty good. Jo and Cruck’aa pushed her back. I tried to help him but…” His shoulders slumped. “I only know so much. Not a medic. Too many slashes, couldn’t stop the bleeding. I…fuck.” He looked up at Serena, face gaunt in the light. “I’m sorry Serena.”

From behind, Werond could see Serena raise her hands, only to drop them a second later. Werond’s chest tightened as she walked around to Serena’s side.

“Serena?” she asked gently.

Serena didn’t react. Her blue eyes remained fixed on the body sprawled out in front of Pavel. Her fingers still twitched at her sides, and her mouth opened and closed, as though she were trying to speak.

“Serena?” Werond asked again, more firmly.

Her boss blinked and turned her head towards Werond, eyes still wide.

“Are you okay?” Werond asked; she glanced over at Pavel, who only stared back with concern in his eyes.

Slowly, Serena raised her hands, fingers still twitching.

“I could have saved him.” She said flatly. “I could have healed him if we…” her voice dropped as her hands did the same.

The memory of Bo smashed into Werond, like a hammer to her chest. She began to speak, to refute her words, when more dread settled into her stomach.

She agreed.

Serena was right. Had Werond not dragged her into the city, she would have been there when Lord Zultan needed her the most.

This was her fault.

“No,” Pavel said, shoving himself into a standing position. “don’t think like that. I’ve been there, it’s not worth it. Serena,” he sighed. “no one knew this would happen. No one. But if you want to pin blame, I should have known. We got complacent, didn’t think someone like her would attack us like that. But you can’t bog yourself down with ‘I could have’ or ‘maybes’, you’ll never drag yourself out of that hole.”

Werond nodded, though the pit in her stomach refused to give way. “Pavel’s right. No one could have seen something like this happening. If…if anything, blame me. I shouldn’t have dragged you –”

“No!” Serena yelled; Werond and Pavel flinched. “S-sorry, I just…” Serena seemed to deflate, hunching over slightly. “didn’t think…I thought he was safe, I…we should have done…” Tears began to well in her eyes. “I don’t know what we should have done.”

“No one did.” Pavel murmured.

“Right, no one did.” Werond laid her hands-on Serena’s shoulders. “We helped him as best we could. Sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes we do everything right and still fall short, and as much as I hate to say that…it’s true. But you’re not to blame. No one is.”

Her guts twisted as she lied to Serena; Werond knew that she was the cause of this. Had she waited until the morning to head into the city, Lord Zultan would have still been with them.

Serena stared down at her feet, before standing straight, sucking in a shuddering breath. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she nodded, though she did not meet Werond’s gaze.

Werond breathed a sigh of relief, releasing Serena’s shoulders.

She was glad that her words had soothed her, even if only a little. Yet that relief did nothing to ease the guilt that she still felt in her gut.

Another death on her shoulders.

Werond shook her head, harder than she had wanted to; no time to dwell on past mistakes.

“We should…bury him tonight. Find a good spot. Pay our respects.” Werond said.

Serena’s shoulders slumped. Another pang of guilt lanced in Werond’s chest. She stepped to Serena’s side, and laid a hand against the small of her back.

“I know, it’ll be hard. But it helps. Closure and…everything.” Serena looked at Werond with a tired expression. “I know. I’ll help, and then we can turn in. Hopefully feel better in the morning.”

“Oh.” Pavel said. He stepped closer and began to dig in his pockets. “He – Lord Zultan, he was – here.”

Pavel extracted a smashed piece of parchment, as though someone had crumpled it in one hand, from his pocket.

“He was writing this before…before everything. I said I’d give it to you after he left so…least I can do.”

Serena accepted the charcoal-streaked paper, and carefully unfolded it. As she did, Werond peaked over her shoulder. Most of the letter was taken up with shaky penmanship, though she couldn’t make the language out; the letters and words appeared in a more jagged version of Elven script, and her Elvish was already terrible.

“Uhm, what language is that?” she asked. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“Undercommon,” Serena signed with one hand, eyes still on the letter. “translate – second.”

Werond nodded and began to scan the rest of the parchment as Serena read.

She blinked.

Near the bottom of the page was a small section in Common.

Werond

I know you did not appreciate me in the brief time we knew one another. I can’t fault you for that. But I still must express my deepest appreciation for your assistance in my affairs. I wish you well.

Werond stared at the passage, taken back somewhat. It was a nice gesture, one that she did not expect to receive.

She looked back to Serena to say as much, then stopped.

Serena stared at the letter, eyes furrowed, mouth ajar. She shook her head, eyes scanning the letter again, and again, and again, each reread causing her head to shake more.

“What’s it –” Werond began to ask.

Serena spun on her heel and dashed off towards the wagons behind them.

“Hey!” Werond’s cry fell on deaf ears. She turned back to Pavel, who shrugged, and gestured for her to go.

Werond took off after her, once again ruing her comfortable job as a teamster.

Serena had raced back to the middle of the caravan line, on the inside of the train. With a start, Werond realized that she was heading towards the Zultan’s carriage.

Beyond her ragged breathing, worry gnawed at her.

By the time she caught up, thoroughly confused, Serena was already franticly talking with the two teamsters, though Werond couldn’t see her signs from behind. From the other side of the wagon train, she could barely make out Jo’s still furious voice, continuing her tirade against the guards. From the sounds of repeated protest, it seemed more had decided to come out from the city.

“S-Serena,” Werond panted, halting behind her. “What’s –”

“Please!” Serena signed at the seated teamsters; her eyes were wide, her voice pleading; the letter stuck awkwardly out of her skirt pocket. “I, his letter – I need to know!”

The two men remained silent.

As Serena began to sign again, as Werond began to speak, one of the teamsters, a bulky man in a dark cloak and leather armor, hopped down from the driver’s bench.

“Far as I’m concerned, they’re dead. You do what you want.” He looked back towards his companion, a lithe man in similar garb. “Should head in.” The second man nodded and hopped off the carriage.

“You’re just –” Werond began; without a glance, the two teamsters walked around the carriage, and towards Daggerford. “Uhm, Serena, what’s –”

Serena bounded up the step and flung open the carriage door. She climbed in, and from what Werond could hear, immediately began rummaging through the carriage.

“Hey! Serena!” Werond placed her foot on the step. “What in the Nine Hells are you doing?! Can you –”

Serena appeared in the doorframe, eyes frantic, struggling under the weight of a wooden chest. Werond jumped out of the way as it slipped from her hands, bouncing off the step with a crack! and flipped onto the grass. Serena jumped down after it and fell onto her knees; with a great effort, she flipped the heavy box right-side up, and began undoing the latches.

Werond dropped down next to her, and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her away from the chest. “Serena!” she yelled. “What are you doing?! What’s wrong?”

Serena stared at her, and with a start, Werond realized that her eyes were glassy. Her breathing was rapid, and as she sat back on her knees again, she made a single, frantic sign.

“Choker.”

Werond stared back.

“What?” she asked. “What about your –”

“His!”

Before Werond could respond, Serena flew back at the latches, unlocking them, and flipping the lid of the chest open.

Inside of it, folded neatly, sat a pair of tunic and pants; they looked as though they were made with silk, but if that was true, Werond had never seen –

Serena ripped the clothing out and flung it to the side. Werond grabbed them off the ground and placed it gently next to the chest.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for,” she said. “but be careful with this stuff, we don’t –”

She stopped as she looked back at Serena, who stared with wide eyes at the contents of the chest. A thick book, bound in purple leather, multiple vials of a dark liquid, an ornate, silver dagger, and a pendant with jagged edges, with a broken strap, lying face down.

With shaky hands, Serena reached in and plucked the pendant out, flipping it over in her hands.

A dull, unpolished moon, in front of a circle of arrows, rested in her palm.

Identical to the one around her neck.

Werond stared at the piece.

It dropped soundlessly from Serena’s hands back into the chest. As Werond looked to her, Serena ran her hands through her hair, clutching at her head, as tears began to pour down her face.

The realization slammed into Werond, taking her breath away.

Gently, she grabbed and pulled Serena into a tight hug, just as a deep, silent sob racked through her body.