White banks of clouds hung languidly in the air. The sky was its typical azure, though Vena saw little of it in between the flutters of her eyelids. Her eyes were only half open, and though the sun was not quite near its zenith; most of what she spied were the warm tones of sunlight diffusing through flesh. She was flush to the palace lawn, hands folded behind her head, laced betwixt the locks of her golden hair. The grass tickled her slightly, and thought she had no doubt that she had ruined her dress - at least until she could find someone to cast cleaning magic - she couldn't bring herself to care.

I should have slept a few hours ago. There was a window of time in the predawn. It would have been a miserable morning, even getting up at midday, but it would be better than this. Now, I’ll have to make it all the way till sundown.

She heard someone approach, but she didn’t bother turning her head. They closed in and stopped over her. She was laying with her head pointed south, so closing her dexter eye to block the sun, she opened her other to see her sister looking down. Her dress was the same as it had been the night before, still fouled with the blood of her bodyguard.

“Sister.”

“Isn’t your husband going to want you by his side through this?”

“So what? He can go scream his heart out into a well for all I care.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’ll come by later. Now, I just want to look at the clouds. Sit.”

“I have to attend-”

“Father can stand to have you leave his side for a time. Gods know there’s a hundred men-at-arms between you and I right now and any danger.”

“But-”

“I know you have your sense of duty and all, I do too. That said, no one is going to fault you for letting a little off your shoulders right now. No one is going to fault me.”

“You’d make a guildmaster quake in their boots with how you negotiate.”

“I have.”

Renner giggled, and after a few moments of fretting on how she was to lower herself onto the grass in a dignified way, gave up and simply plopped down. Leniya let her head fall to her left, watching Renner as she snuggled into the earth. She was still for a time, before splaying herself out a little and letting herself relax against the grass. A half mournful smile appeared on her face.

“This is nice. I haven’t had the chance to do this since I was a girl.”

It took Vena a few moments to realize the oddity in Renner’s statement.

“What do you mean?”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t laid out on the grass like this since childhood?”

“At least since I was ten. Why?”

Aren’t you living a child’s life here? Unmarried at… Gods, sixteen?

“Why not?”

“I didn’t wish to cause trouble for father.”

“This would cause-”

Vena cut herself off, pulling her mouth to the side as she realized the foolishness of her question.

I forget how things are for her. She’s the only princess in the palace now. No sharing of duties between us three, she has to do it all. Actually, with her epithet now, she is a political entity too.

“You understand, yes?”

“I do.”

“Yes.”

She’s dull, but I can’t fault her for that. She has her sense of duty, and she’s not going to cause any controversies willingly. I’ve always wondered why father let her go unmarried. Is that part of it? It was strange, when I first married Pespea, she was still that taciturn and dour little girl. When the proceedings ended and I was able to visit the palace… oh, a year later? No, it was shorter than that, six months, it was like someone had outright replaced her. She suddenly sharpened up and started acting her part. I wonder why that was. Actually, I wonder if that will happen again when she gets married.

“Sister?”

“Yes?”

“On the topic of marriage, has father given you any indication of who you are to bond with?”

“I get to choose.”

What?! Why does- How is that fair? Gods, she’s always been the favorite hasn’t she? The youngest darling. Here we have the youngest and the prettiest of us, and she finds herself halfway through her teens without a hint of coming bondage?

Vena closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. It was no time to lose herself to anger, and she forced herself to calm down. Her sudden burst of what - to her - a base rage demoralized Vena, and she felt the need to bay it back. In a moment, only the shadow of her ire remained, a hollow shame she felt no need to deny.

No, that’s unfair to her, and I know it. She didn’t have a choice in the matter. Not like she made father favor her. Besides, had I been given the choice, I would have done exactly what she has. Avoid the hand of a suitor for as long as possible. Stay in the palace for even longer. It makes sense. I just wish I had been given the opportunity to do it. Maybe she’s witful on this topic in a way. She saw what happened with Lulara, father marrying her off to some no-name- no, unknown-name who has done nothing but keep her secreted away in his demesne. For what cause? Who knows.

Ah, perhaps this is why father hasn’t pushed her hand. He doesn’t want a repeat of Lulara's fate. I was lucky, I was married to a Marquis, one of the six great houses. Renner won’t be able to obtain such a marriage like that. Far too old for the sorts of terms that I was married under. Shame, she deserves better. I suppose I was wrong earlier, too. Some sought her hand at that birthday of hers, at least that’s the gossip. Now that’s a benefit I didn’t want to give up; it takes so long for information to end up where we live. Here in the capital it's a same day, same hour affair.

Eyes closed, Vena drew her mouth to the side. She found her emotions hard to form into words, fending off an unearned envy. She was the first princess, and yet to have the third live such with such cavileer privilege that she was not afforded was grating. She couldn’t hold to those feelings however, and her thoughts drifted away from her sister onto the cause of their sojourn to the lawn.

Speaking of which, this crisis is going to be bad. A sort of severity that we haven’t seen since before I was born. Father has dealt with things like this, right? There was turmoil during his ascent. That dangerous and disgusting business with those Drell up north. My entire life that was something at question. At least Theiern dealt with that. I’m terrified to think what sort of turmoil would spark up north if- was it the Grayguard who did this? It could be. Maybe… maybe they were in league with the Noble faction, or maybe the Empire! Zurrenorn maybe? How terrifying to think that cult of… of… grave-robbing bone-wielding fiends could have done this. I-I hope not! I’ll ask my dearest what he thinks. About this “Black Night.”

“What did you think about last night? Some vengeance of those coffin fetishizing ne'er do wells?”

No response came. Vena let a tinge of annoyance creep into her voice.

“Oh so you’re not-”

Vena opened her eyes to look at her sister, wondering what flit she had in her mind to ignore a sibling. Renner, for her part, was already fast asleep. Vena went mouth agape, and she blanched.

And just like that, she’s out. There was an attempt on her life last night, and yet she falls asleep just like that. Hasn’t she a care in the world?

After a time, she closed it and huffily looked back upward at the sky. The formations of clouds had moved, dragged along by the wind and the yet to break heat.

No, it's not that she’s uncaring. She just has complete faith in those around her, doesn’t she?

—

[40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 17]

“Did you see his face?”

“He was wearing his helmet.”

“He was wearing his helm, sir.”

“So you didn’t see his face?”

“N-no, sir.”

“You’re certain?”

“Jackass. Of course you would be certain. What sort of question is that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did the fight start?”

“Tell him what happened.”

“I was leaving her room to-”

“You left her side?”

“You left her side?”

“There was no Knight stationed, sir, so I was going to assume duties for the night.”

“I can’t help you here kid, come up with something believable.”

“I’m not coming up with anything!”

“Tell that to him.”

“And why did that mean you needed to leave her side?”

“I needed to drink, eat, and relieve myself, sir.”

“If you were capable of driving him off, clearly you were battle-ready as is.”

“Oh, I hate people like this.”

“I didn’t want my fighting ability to be reduced in any way, sir”

“Alright. Continue.”

“As I was leaving, I saw him at the other end of the corridor-”

“The one that extends along the former rooms of highnesses Vena and Lulara?”

“Yes, sir. I watched him approach from the other side, and I noticed he was in armor.”

“Did you hark him then?”

“No sir, I assumed he was a man of the palace.”

“When did you engage him?”

“After he had passed me by, I realized what I saw was wrong. I stopped and turned around, he did too.”

“You drew then?”

“He did first, sir.”

“That’s unacceptable. Climb, you have a duty to be suspicious. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

Though he was a Knight-Sargent, Donovan Graves was not born a highblood. Like most men under Theiern, he had been a peasant volunteer who had earned his title and land through the pacifications conducted across Urovana’s demesne. Thus, far more than he respected station or rank, he desired results.

“Look, I know what they do. The ways they limit you. At every step of your life, you’ve been taught not to doubt them because they’re superior to you. Yes?

“Yes sir.”

“You have a duty to her. That duty means ignoring them. That duty means spurring, investigating, challenging those who come near without hesitation.”

“Yes sir.”

“They will stand between you, and your objective, at every turn. Be ruthless, be cunning. Do you understand? Her safety is absolute.”

“Yes sir. I’ve felt that way my whole life sir.”

“Good. Continue.”

“I charged first, and we locked blades. He tried to jump back and the carpet fell out from under us. We wrestled on the ground, and I managed to get around between him and the Princess. He got up and pressed an attack, slipping a jab through. I was wounded, and he got around me a second time. I attacked with a wide swing, and wounded him. After that, he…”

“Ran off. He ran off.”

“...retreated”

“You didn’t pursue?”

“No sir. I wanted to get her highness out of danger as soon as possible.”

“Good, there’s a chance that was a baiting tactic. Some ambusher waiting in either of the other rooms waiting for you to leave.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Alright, I'll pass this to Marshall Theiern. Climb?”

“Yes sir?”

“Good work.”

“And just like that, you’ve been cleared of killing Barbro’s man. Good job kid.”

Climb felt the message link dissolve, Evileye severing the connection. She had been guiding him through almost every encounter that night, helping him to keep his story straight. It had been hard at first, learning how to talk inwardly and outwardly at once - he stumbled over his words several times. In order, he was approached by a disgraced Jelka himself, then a quizzical Keveleos, then Helgrave’s man Eida, then Vice-Captain Velthrop of the Warrior-Troop, and now finally Graves. About by the third of such interrogations, he had gotten used to the feeling, and was able to bear speaking in such a fashion without issue. With her at his side, he had first blundered, then lurched, then adequately navigated his way through escalating suspicion. He wasn’t sure if it was rote memorization, or some deeper advancements of his skills, but none-the-less, Climb was learning to lie.

Feel like I could bluster my way through anything now.

He was unsure how to feel, a luminant kernel of pride lingering in every one of his tepid thoughts. He had killed a man, yet he had done it in the service of Renner. He was lying about said killing, yet he was doing it in the service of Renner. He had fought and won his first duel in defense of her, though to those around him it seemed like he had simply earned a draw. That he would also drag Renner - a paragon of honesty, kindheartedness, and solemn duty to the Kingdom - into his lie, even if it was for her safety. That Renner was not only his charge, but now someone he knew to be in love with him complicated things further.

Things are different now. She’s in love with me, and I for her. It feels strange to say that. I never thought my life would be this complex. So much to think about. Are things going to stay like this?

The longer he thought about it, the more he convinced himself of the act’s valiance. He turned round, seeking his mistress. He was on one of Valencia’s patios, along with dozens of other men-at-arms and their commanders. The decision had already been made to delay the general council until the eighteenth, giving houses the time to reform their ranks. The general mood was gloomy with an undercurrent of bloodlust; a sense hung in the air that a declaration of war was imminent, be it sent from or delivered to Arwintar. He could not pick her from the crowd around him, his chest tightening.

Where did she go?

Looking a second time, spinning round faster and with a more attentive gaze. She had been socializing when he last let his vision drift off of her; now, he deeply regretted doing so. As he opened his mouth to speak and widened his eyes to look, he found her. She had snuck off, lying with her sister Vena on the palace lawn but thirty paces away. It was a sight that he should have found horribly endearing, yet he could summon no such perception. All he felt was the pounding of his heart slowly abate, and a brewing nausea deep in her stomach.

Gods, I… I don’t know… Its stupid but I…

Climb was of half a mind to go and charge up to her, demanding she stay by his side. He took a step, then stopped, again thrusting himself into an external perception of himself. For the first time in his life, he was not simply aware of the morally correct actions to take; he felt truly image-conscious.

I owe her my service. My life. Not anger.

“You okay kid?”

“Y-yeah.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

“No, really, I’m alright.”

“She’s safe.”

“I know. I know.”

“Don’t let her go, you understand that?”

Climb blushed at Evileye’s imposition.

“She isn’t… um-”

“Yours to hold onto. Maybe invert that, then. Don’t wiggle out of her grasp.”

Do you really have to say that?!

“I won’t.”

“Still, I understand your reaction. Mighty brave of her to plop down and sleep like that.”

Climb thought for a moment, then cocked his head. To him, it seemed as if Renner was simply laying down with Vena. How Evileye could tell she was asleep was a mystery.

How could she know that?

“She’s asleep?”

“Ah. Well, mm…”

Evileye didn’t give a response, simply letting her words die in her mouth. Climb thought to push, but was unable to find words that would sound non-confrontational. He was struck suddenly in his backside, a slap that jarred him.

“Oy, virgin. You got your pretty-boy armor all beat up. Don’t take care of your gifts huh?”

“Stop harassing the ‘pretty-boy.’”

“I don’t harass, I uplift. I make men feel special. I’ll just take him home.”

“You can’t take home what’s not yours.”

Climb was set spinning in internal turmoils anew, his face blushing even worse than before. Lakyus walked up, somehow ignoring the assaults of her comrades on Climb’s psyche.

“Shut it.”

“Yes boss.”

“Yes boss.”

“Climb, we’ll send in that to be reforged, but we’ll likely need to strip some material off.”

“You will, L-lady Aindra?”

“Yes, portions of it could be too brittle to be worked.”

“Why?”

“Evileye has, uh-”

“Some new thoughts on mithraloid crystal formation under turbulent arcanic and ætheric conditions. Possible there’s an undiscovered solid phase for the material.”

I have no clue what she’s talking about - worse than that physician. Magic is so complicated sometimes. Feels like there are a dozen new words I hear every time I speak to her. Actually, there probably are a dozen new words. I recognize “æther” from earlier but I have no clue what it means.

“Uhh-”

“Don’t ask, you won’t understand. Actually, Climb, stand still.”

“Okay?”

Evileye raised her right hand. As she did so, her arm came out of her cloak, her once solid black underlayer scorched and burned through. Climb could see flesh underneath, skin that he, until now, had never spied nor known of. She snapped her finger. Climb’s armor suddenly shined an iridescent blue, a number of bright motes spilling off of its creases and corners. They poured off of him like a decade’s worth of dust, dissolving into the air.

“A walking battery. Would you look at that?”

Climb watched in wonderment as the shed magical excitations faded away, caught in swirls and patterns that seemed to suddenly shift in odd geometric angles. His thoughts were still caught in the wake of the night, and he turned his self-critical thoughts to the site in front of him. He was struck with an idea.

She can do anything with magic, can’t she? Throw fireballs, shoot lightning, teleport great distances, even fly, right? What if I could do that? How less close would that fight have been?

“Lady… Evileye?”

Ask her to teach me the basics, maybe? Hopefully that's not to presume… presumptuous.

“Could probably throw some enchantments on that too. It should take.”

“Lady Evileye?”

“Mobility perhaps, defensive wards across the gaps in the armor. Actually, if I were to stretch a world-lace dynamo-”

She’s not listening to me at all.

“Shorty.”

“What- what is it, brute?”

“Climb is trying to ask you a question.”

“He was?”

“Gods, are you deaf granny?”

“Shut up. What was it, Climb?”

I can never keep up with them.

“Do you think you could teach me magic?”

“Oy, that’s not a bad idea! They’d finally have a court wizard in Valencia.”

Evileye fell completely still, her cape tensioning off her immovable form as it fluttered in a light breeze. Gagaran turned to her, face losing its joviality as Evileye’s silence continued. Climb blanched. She raised her hand a second time, and cast a spell.

“Mana Essence.”

“So, can he do it?”

“It would take… time. You would need to start with the foundations.”

“How would I learn that?”

“Well, I’m not teaching you, but the Magicians Guild might.”

“Won’t that cost-”

No, wait, she’ll pay for it.

“She’ll pay for it.”

Lakyus’s voice overlapped with Climb’s thoughts. The conclusion felt obvious, and he couldn’t help but admonish himself for his error in judgment.

Of course she’ll pay for it.

“Just ask her.”

“Yeah, I uh, I will, Lady Aindra.”

“Actually, I’ll mention it to her.”

“Thank you, Lady Aindra.”

Climb gave a deep bow, letting himself genuflect as deeply as possible.

“Oy, pretty-boy.”

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Virgin.”

“That’s worse!”

“Well I have to call you something.”

Climb! Call me Climb!

“In any case, you mentioned something about slipping on carpet right?”

“Er, he was the one who jumped back first.”

“Yeah, yeah. But like, you’re Her Highness’s bodyguard, right? That means you are gonna be fighting in places like this uh, place. With carpet. You get me?”

“Right…”

“Anyway, I wanna teach you a leaping strike.”

“You would?!”

“Absolutely. You have uh, that training space around here right? That place Gazef and I fought in.”

“Yes, let me take you over. Thank you, uh, Miss Gagaran.”

Climb bowed a second time, before turning round to the exit to the fortress section of Ro-Lante. He started walking, and after a moment perked his head up. He looked back to Renner. She hadn’t moved.

Maybe she is asleep.

—

Zero’s eyes slowly parted as he came to consciousness. The familiar beams of the ceiling and the hard slab he was on told him he was in their city compound. That he was at the compound in the first place told him that he was out of combat; that he was out of combat and had no memory of conquest over Gazef told him that he had failed. His mind immediately snapped to seizing the initiative.

Morale is going to be through the floor. I need to keep this team together, and I need to do it tactfully.

How he would do this, or what the general status of his team was, was still unknown to him. He quickly articulated every muscle in his body, checking to see what hurt and what didn’t. His shoulder felt like it was on fire, the lingering heat of a healing potion’s knitwork making the joint feel raw and warm. A metallic aftertaste lingered in his mouth and seemed to coat his throat, the product of a score of said potions. He slowly drew himself up to see a pacing Edstrӧm, walking back and forth the span of the room. It was a stout and square space - nine paces across in either direction - that served as an operations room for the team.

Turning his gaze round, he spotted Peshuran leaning against a support column, helm doffed and with a forlorn look in his eye; Davernoch was sitting on the other table in the room picking at his rib cage with a pair of forceps, putting ribs and other bones back in place. Succulent was sitting on a small couch in the couch in the corner, eating what appeared to be long-cold fried street food along with Malmvist. Edstrӧm snapped her gaze to Zero, lips quivering with rage, before looking away. She charged near the door, before unleashing a series of kicks on a waste bin.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!”

“Calm down.”

“You’re going to tell me to calm down?!”

“Yes, I am.”

“This was your fault, jackass! Had you just played the part the entire fucking time, he would have been in the fucking ground.”

I’ve never seen her like this.

Zero stayed stoic, drawing in breath slowly, and keeping his body’s function in strict time. He coldly evaluated the situation in front of him. There would be time to lament and scorn his loss later; now, the only way Six Arms would stay together was if he could force calm to prevail.

“Come on. Eddy-”

“Don’t fucking call me that!”

“Then darli-”

“Malmvist, shut up! This isn’t your fight. You know what? Fuck this. I should have never joined this white-livered outfit. I’m out. I’m fucking out. This is exactly the sort of shit that gets people killed on operations.”

“Testy, aren’t we?”

“I already told you to shut up, you fucking manwhore!”

Edstrӧm had never before displayed such explosive ire. Zero raised his eyebrow, before turning to look at the wall in front of him. On it was a framed map of the city behind a pane of glass. Using a piece of soft charcoal, they could use it to plan approach and egress routes for operations, locate targets through scrying spells, and keep tabs on guard patrol routes. It was meticulously detailed, and to its left and right were similar maps showing different views of the city, including its networks of sewers and other utilities, trade and smuggling routes, and the territories of various gangs and guard offices. On all three maps, there was a huge concentration of markings and details in the Foresain district, all centered around the alley in which they planned to slaughter Gazef.

I’ll need to handle this delicately.

“Edstrӧm.”

“What?!”

“You’re leaving?”

“Damn right I am! I can’t work with this shit.”

“Why?”

“Why? Zero, the fuck do you mean why? Isn’t it obvious?! Aren’t you pissed too? If Succulent hadn’t fucked up his act, this wouldn’t have been a problem. I had him! He was dead. He would have been fucking dead!”

I wonder about that.

“Tell me what happened.”

“What, why- Ah, after you were downed.”

Zero nodded.

“Nothing, really. He pulled his sword out from you. Peshuran and I were the only ones up-”

“I whipped at him, he caught it with a break in his sword and snapped it.”

I would have loved to have seen that. Gazef was a fine fighter, that’s certain.

Zero couldn’t help but chuff.

“He and I pulled back, I dragged off Succulent, though I’m starting to wish I didn’t. Peshuran grabbed you and Malmvist.”

“I dragged myself.”

“Yeah, Davernoch took care of… himself?”

“I do not call myself the Undead Queen.”

“Right, and that’s it.”

That’s it? Ah, I understand.

Zero’s line of questioning focused Edstrӧm, she seeming to have shed most of her anger. Despite that, there was a lingering resentment in the air, all those present finding loathing in their hearts, be it to others, or themselves.

The solution here is to tear everyone down.

“Gazef didn’t pursue?”

“No.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, I am certain! Why wouldn’t I-”

“Now, Edstrӧm, you’ve regained your coolness; don’t make the mistake of losing it a second time. Do you realize what you’re saying?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. Why didn’t Gazef run you down?”

“What do you-”

Edstrӧm’s eyes shot open, as did Peshuran’s; Malmvist and Succulent still bore looks of tepid confusion; and Davernoch was as always, unreadable.

“You had no kit, no weapons. Your blades were destroyed, as was his whip. Gazef had his sword in hand. Why didn’t he run you down?”

“You're saying he wasn’t capable?”

“Davernoch, that bile that runs in your body, what is it?”

“An emulsion of necrotic flux.”

“And if that gets into a living person’s body.”

“It’ll eat them out from the inside, rob their ability to move or to think.”

“Combat ability?”

“Greatly reduced.”

“Thank you. Now, Edstrӧm, explain to the rest of the team what I’m saying.”

She lowered her head, pulling her mouth to the side as she thought. It took her a few moments to start speaking again, her timbre low and cold.

“Gazef wasn’t in fighting shape. Him not assaulting us meant he was not capable of doing so. He was at a marked disadvantage the entire time; he bore no magical items, yet he found ways to defeat us each. He was a cunning fighter, willing to use every trick in and out of the book to take us down. That said, there were limits to his endurance. At the end there, if instead of retreating-”

“We instead chose to attack, we could have killed him. I wouldn’t have needed my whip. We could have-”

“Ripped the kits off of you all, and ran him through.”

Zero foisted himself off the table, landing steady on his feet despite the agony it brought him.

“I want you all to understand. This failure was not from any specific act or failure we made. That Warrior-Captain Gazef Stronoff is not in the ground is something that cannot be pinned on any one of us. It was not Succulent who failed, it was not Edstrӧm or Peshuran or I. It was Six Arms that failed; not Six Arms the collection of mercenaries, but Six Arms the team. Understand that this is a failure of us to coordinate, to plan our actions, to successfully understand our enemy. We assumed that Gazef was a stalwart, upright fighter who would not resort to trickery and brutal practicality. That was a mistake. In truth, he’s as dirty and as cunning as the lot of us. He is dangerous, as much a man of the crescent moon as is Unglaus, or the elder Aindra. Understand that we failed not just in execution, but in every other aspect of this battle. We went into a fight with him with only hubris, and it led us nowhere; yielded us nothing. Do you understand?”

“Yes-”

“Yeah-”

“I got it-”

“Positive-”

“Yes.”

“At once now. Do you understand?!”

“Yes!”

All five resounded at once, a welling sense of shared responsibility and a reignited kernel of pride.

“Edstrӧm, are you going to leave us.”

“No, I won’t be.”

“Is anyone else?”

No one. That’s what I thought.

“I’m clearing the duty roster for the next week and a half. Any job that we took that can be handled by other teams will be reassigned to them; order of priority from highest to lowest will be Inferno Klub, The Matadors, Lost Boyz, and lastly, the Doom Scryers. Any slippage in that skill-range we pass off to Assassination and their wetwork team Ninth Greed. The job for Count Banda we’ll delay.”

“Won’t that piss him off?”

“He can’t hire anyone else for the work. For this job, you’re getting no payout. If this means you have no drinking money, take this as a lesson.”

“And if the other divisions stiff us?”

“Hilma will pay; she settles her debts, always has. Cocco Doll is a different story; we’ll need to force him to give up the coin.”

“That’s not difficult. That sickly thing will balk at bladepoint.”

“We aren’t going to hold him at bladepoint.”

“What? Why?”

This shit again.

“This is where our duties diverge. You all have one job. Maintaining your status as expert mercenaries. I have two. Leading this team, and leading the security division. While this team could extract payment from Cocco Doll, the Security division cannot retaliate against Slavery.”

Peshuran shot his eyes to the side, before giving a slow nod of understanding. The rest of those present remained confused by Zero’s words. Though it was impossible to read his face, Davernoch clearly shared this question, and he was the only one to actually ask.

“Why?”

“If you haven’t been paying attention, Eight Fingers is split down the center.”

“Split down the center? Are you saying we’re on the side of the slavery division?”

“We’re on our side, however, our interests align with those of Hilma Cygenus, Cocco Doll, Noah Zwedden, and whoever’s in charge of banking’s wrecked form this week.”

Banking. Hm, there’s a good chance she’ll be in need of unmarred coin after this. Depends how much weakness she’s willing to show in front of the council.

“When did this happen?”

“Back when we got rid of Unruh.”

It's almost certain he never actually betrayed the organization, he was likely loyal to the end. Only another reason to stay by her side through this. If she pulls away after this though, that’s a different matter.

“Everyone; retrieve your earnings from the compound bank. Drink yourselves under the table, get out of town, go find a whore, whatever you need to do to clear your heads of this loss. Do something stupid and get injured, break a limb. Goes without saying no narcotics. Any of you touch anything Hilma sells, I’ll kill you myself. We’ll meet back in ten days. When that happens, I want you sharp and I want you ready for combat. I don’t want any whining about team composition, assignments, or anything. Now go.”

The lot of them stood up and walked out.