Grace stood alone in the centre of the single room. There was no sign of her parents. No sign of anyone.

"W-where are dey?" the little girl whispered.

"Could they have been taken?" Patrick's voice was sharp. "Did DeLacy take her parents to get at her?"

"W-what?" Grace's eyes went wide, and Amy hurried to grab the girl. She quickly shook her head.

"No! No, dat ain't what 'appened." Amy gestured around. "Look around. Dere ain't any furniture turned over, no doors broken, not a single sign of struggle. They weren't taken by force."

"That is," Patrick whispered into her ear, "if they weren't taken by surprise."

"Shh! Not so loud!" Amy hissed, low enough for only him to hear, with a meaningful look at Grace.

"So," Titus asked after a long moment, "what are we going to do now?"

"Now? Now, we—"

"Shh!" Amy cut Patrick off, lifting her finger to her lips. "Do you 'ear dat?"

They fell silent, and it didn't take long before they did indeed hear. It would have taken a deaf man with wax in his ears not to.

"Who is shouting like that in the middle of the night?" Patrick frowned.

"I 'ave no bloody clue." Amy's eyes narrowed. "But whoever 'e is, dey ain't very 'appy, dat's for sure."

"Maybe we ought to take a look."

"Ye think?"

"Oh, and..."

"Aye?"

"Let's fetch Mr Karim." Patrick's face was grim. "I have a feeling we might need his assistance. And his sabre."

"Aye."

Gathering Grace up in her arms, Amy strode out of the room, the other two close on their heels. They had only crossed half the distance to the coach when a hulking figure approached out of the darkness.

Amy met his eyes. "Ye..."

"Aye." Nodding darkly, Karim unslung the rifle from his shoulder. "I heard. Screaming."

"Great. Let's move!"

Together, they marched into the darkness, down the muddy path that passed for a road around these parts. Again, they heard shouting, getting louder and louder, followed by a crash. Exchanging a glance, they sped up. It wasn't long before, out of the shadows in front of them, appeared the origin of the ruckus: a house far larger than any of the small tenant farm houses that made up most of the village.

"What is dat place?"

To Amy's surprise, it wasn't any of the men who answered, but a young, soft voice.

"It's da town hall," Grace whispered. "Da mayor lives dere, and sometimes da villagers meet dere to discuss things."

Just then, from somewhere inside the building, a crash came, followed by a shout.

"Aye, discussing things. Looks like dat's what's 'appening right now," Amy commented.

"Dat's Dad's voice!" Grace exclaimed, pointing forward eagerly. "'e's in dere!"

"Well, well..." Grinning down at the little girl, Amy patted her head. "Looks like someone is anxious in dere. Shall we give 'im a surprise?"

Giving a squeal, Grace lunged up, threw her arms around Amy's neck and nodded so fast her head almost toppled off. Together, the five of them snuck towards the town hall. As they approached, the voices coming from inside became clearly audible.

"...is outrageous! We can't allow stuff like dis ta 'appen!"

"Sounds like someone is pissed off," Amy smirked, eliciting another giggle. They sneaked closer to the building, towards the door.

"What do ye want me ta do? We can't very well—"

"Oh, aye, we can! We 'ave a duty ta fulfill!"

"Ye...ye can't just..."

"Dis ain't right! It ain't!"

"What are ye gonna do?"

Grace sniffed, and beamed all over her face. Amy couldn't blame her. She would feel like that, too, if a whole village would be up in arms for her sake. The young woman glanced at the others. "I think it's about time we make our entrance, don't ye?"

The men nodded, and Amy stepped forward, pushing open the door. When they crossed the threshold, they found themselves in a large hall full of people, none of whom seemed to notice them, since they seemed to be...otherwise occupied. It took a while before a man standing in a corner turned his head towards them. He turned away—then his head whipped back to stare at the five.

Amy waved.

The man hurriedly dashed over to the nearest villager and tapped him on the shoulder. That man, after seeing what the other had, did the same, and soon, silence spread through the room as more and more people turned towards them.

Any moment now, a joyful couple was going to rush forward and gather up their child in their arms.

Any moment now...

Any moment now!

Yet...nothing happened.

Nothing whatsoever.

Amy felt a cold shiver go down her spine. Oh no.

"Good evening, everyone!" Patrick exclaimed, smiling and bowing slightly. "I do apologize for intruding upon you so late at night, but we bring joyful news. You need worry no longer. We've managed to return the one who was taken from you! Where are Grace's parents?"

Silence.

The crowd split apart, revealing a man and woman standing towards the back of the room. The moment they caught sight of Amy and who she was holding in her arms, they took a step back.

More silence.

Deafening silence.

Amy had spent some time with her best friend's husband, so she could be said to be quite an expert in the matter. But this silence was different from any she had ever heard before. It contained something that her friend's better half would never, ever show: guilt.

"What's the matter?" Patrick demanded, staring at the two parents. "What are you waiting for? You were just talking about what you were going to do, and now here she is, safe and sound, free to return to you!"

Sadness welling up in her heart, Amy carefully placed a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "Patrick..."

"What are you waiting for?" Patrick shouted. "Why are you just standing there?"

No answer. Not from the cowards that called themselves parents, at least. Amy swallowed, hard. It always had to be her who got to say the harsh truths out loud, didn't it?

"They are just standing there," she said, softly, "because they're afraid to step forward."

"W-what?"

"Dey were arguing about what ta do," she continued mercilessly, hating herself for every true, cruel word, "not so as ta save deir daughter and fellow villager, but ta save deir own darn necks!"

"What do you mean?" Patrick demanded.

He still didn't understand. Amy felt sorry for him. Almost as sorry as she felt for Grace who, judging by the expression on her face, clearly did.

"Don't you find it peculiar that Grace just happened to be home alone when DeLacy's men showed up? Country children 'er age usually 'elp deir parents in da fields all day. Why would she be at 'ome alone at such a time, unless..."

"...unless her parents told her to," came Karim's growl from behind her. She had never heard anything that sounded so much like a mountain rumbling, about to explode. "Or, more likely, the entire village did!"

"No..." The whisper that escaped Patrick was harsh. Cold. Hopeless. His eyes burned into the so-called parents. "Tell me you didn't."

Silence.

"Tell me you didn't!" Patrick roared.

Just then, someone sitting at the back of the crowd leapt up. "And why da 'ell wouldn't we?" he yelled. "We all 'ave families, ye know! And we ain't no fancy toffs dat no one dares ta touch, like some people! What do ye think would 'appen ta us, to dem, if we refused?"

"You miserable little...!"

Patrick took a step forward, fists clenched. He only stopped when an old man with a bent back stepped in between the two, raising his hand.

"Please...don't. He didn't mean any harm."

"Didn't mean any harm? Did you hear what he said? I've never heard anything so disgustingly cowardly in my entire life!"

"Perhaps," the old man said, his eyes sad. "but does that make it any less true?"

Patrick opened his mouth for another shout—but no sound came out. After a moment or two, he snapped it shut again, teeth grinding.

"It was either giving up one child," the old man continued, straightening just a little, "or a dozen men being turned out of their homes, along with anyone who might be dependent on them. How long do you think it would take for them to starve? So the whole village came together and agreed. We had no choice!"

Patrick's jaw worked. He didn't say anything. Of course he didn't. A sad little smile tugged at the corner of Amy's mouth. These were matters a man like him never ever would have had to consider. Poverty? Life and death decisions? What were those? Could you eat them? Naturally, he would have no answers to questions he had never had to ask himself. Thus, for the first time in his life, he didn't seem to know what to say. That, however, was not the case for all those present.

"Oh yes," came a rumbling voice from behind Amy. "You had a choice. You all had a choice, you Ika kutē dā putara! A choice between courage and cowardice!" Striding forward, Karim towered over the villagers, forcing everyone to take a step back. Not because of his size. Not because of his weapons. But because of the promise of vengeance burning in his eyes. "You had the choice between being divided or standing united! You had the choice between throwing children to the wolves or protecting your own!"

"Fine!" The old man snarled, straightening a little more. "We made a choice. A hard choice, but a necessary one. We chose the lives of the many over the lives of the few!"

"And how," Karim's scathing voice cut in, deep and dangerous as a bottomless pit, "does it feel to be alive at the expense of defenceless children? How do your hearts feel?"

The old man jerked as if he had been struck. Maybe, in a way, he had.

"Y-you aren't from here! You're a stranger! You have no right to judge—"

"No right?" Karim's eyes burned with black fire. "Every decent man has the right, and the obligation! But I do not need to judge you." Raising a finger, he pointed towards the roof and the heavens above. "Because he already has."

"Filthy heathen!" Someone shouted from the back of the room. "What would you know about—"

"Quite a lot, I'd venture," Amy cut him off, her voice like a knife of ice. "More dan ye, at any rate!"

"I don't know that much," Karim shook his head. "But I don't have to. Do you really have to know much to know that you must protect children? Is it really hard to feel pity for the helpless, and wrath towards the evil?"

"Ye...ye have no right to judge!" one of the villagers shouted out again, almost desperately. "We...we're good men!"

"As a wise man once said," Patrick told him, stepping up beside Karim, "the penalty good men pay for indifference is to be ruled by evil men."

If Karim's words had struck like knives, Patrick's were freshly sharpened swords, stabbing into the hearts of the assembled men.

Karim took another step towards them. His eyes were hard, but his voice when next he spoke was deadly soft. "You think you did the right thing? You think you protected your village? Bēkāra mūrakha! Tell me. When Grace was taken, was this the first time such a thing happened?"

The old man, who so far had met his gaze unflinchingly, suddenly glanced away. "N-no. No, it wasn't."

"How many. How many children has he taken?"

The crowd collectively lowered their heads.

"Fifteen," the old man rasped. "Just from this village."

"Have any of them ever returned?"

The old man closed his eyes. He didn't respond. That was answer enough.

Once again, Karim took another step forward. "And do you think he is ever. Going. To. Stop?"

Dragging in a ragged breath, the old man shook his head. And not just his head, either. His whole form started to shake, and all that was keeping him upright was the staff he was leaning on.

"N-no."

With not a hint of mercy, Karim continued, each word hitting the old man like the strike of a cudgel.

"You are being neither cautious nor wise. You are being blinded to the reality around you. You are safeguarding no one, because no one under the rule of such a man can be truly safe. Any of your children could be taken at any time! All you are doing is dying in installments instead of all at once. DeLacy is draining the life out of your village. By the time you find you have no other choice but to fight back, you will have no will left to resist, and it will be too late!"

All that while, one among the party of five had spoken not a single word. Amy glanced down at Grace, who was staring at the couple standing apart from the crowd as if she didn't believe what she was seeing—or maybe just really, really didn't want to.

"Mum...Dad..."

Both of them avoided her gaze, and turned away.

"It seems," Patrick said, darkly, "it is already too late."

For a long moment, icy silence pervaded the room.

"Is this your last word?" Amy asked, enfolding the trembling little girl in her arms. "Think carefully before you answer."

The father turned his eyes towards her. Or at least what used to be eyes. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. These windows were broken.

"The lord's orders are the lord's orders."

Before Amy could say or do a thing, Grace tore herself out of her hold and dashed from the room. One of the villagers stepped forward to go after her.

Never before had Amy seen Karim move so fast. She wouldn't have believed a man that big could move that fast. He was beside her one moment, and in front of the man the next, blocking his way.

"Do not take another step!"

"But...but the lord's orders..."

"You can tell your lord," Karim snarled, "that he can take his orders and stick them up his Khōtē dē mōrī!"

"But...but he's Lord Abrehan DeLacy!"

"And I," Patrick said, stepping up beside Karim, his voice icy enough for the king of Antarctica, "am Lord Patrick Day. Are there any here who wish to argue with my friend and me?"

Not so much as a mouse squeaked in answer.

"Good." Nodding, Amy gave the assembled people a dark glare, then glanced over at Patrick. "Ye'll take care of things 'ere?"

"You have my word," said Patrick, his voice adamant.

"Spiffin'. 'cause I've got somethin' ta take care of."

And, without glancing back at the villagers even once, she strode out of the hall, into the night.

***

It took Amy quite a while to find her.

The small figure was sitting in front of a certain house, arms clenched around her knees, face buried in the folds of her dress. The dress that just yesterday had been pristine and beautiful was now stained with mud.

"Grace?"

A shudder went through the girl's body. When, a moment later, she raised her face, wet trails were running down it.

"Dey...dey..."

Sitting down in the dirt beside the girl, Amy slid her arm around her. "I know. I know."

Drops of moisture dripped on the ground as the girl leaned into her. Grace gazed up at Amy with eyes shiny from moisture. Proud eyes. Eyes that pleaded with her not to say anything.

"My, my..." Amy glanced up at the clear night sky. "So cloudy and rainy tonight. Bloody annoying weather! Look, even your eyes 'ave gotten wet."

Still gazing up at the sky, she pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. Handing it to Grace, Amy continued to study the fascinating sight of the stars sparkling in the sky until a small hand pushed the moist handkerchief back at her.

For a while, the two of them, woman and girl, just sat together, gazing silently at the stars.

"I...I can't go back, can I?"

Sometimes, cruelty and ruthlessness were far preferable to mercy.

Amy shook her head. "No."

A few more moments passed in silent stargazing. Another shudder went through Grace's body, and she took hold of Amy's hand, clenching her fingers so hard it hurt.

"W-what am I supposed ta do now? W-without me family, I...I..."

Before even thinking about it, Amy pulled Grace into a hug, squeezing the trembling form of the little girl tightly. "Who says ye've got no family?" she managed. "Shut yer gob, ye silly little girl!"

That did it. Grace broke down, weeping, clinging to Amy as if she were her last lifeline. Which, in a way, she probably was.

"W-what am I supposed ta do now?" The little girl's wail was muffled by the folds of Amy's dress. But still, to Amy, it rang in her ears. "What am I supposed ta do?"

For a long moment, Amy didn't know what to say. None of her usual polite responses for everyday conversations—such as "Piss off!", "Drop dead!" or "Aaaaah, yes! Harder! Harder!"—seemed to quite fit the situation. So she just continued to stare up at the sky, feeling lost, the girl's voice echoing in her mind.

What am I supposed to do now?

And suddenly, an idea sparked to life inside her, like a light in the darkness.

"'ow about ye 'elp?"

The girl blinked. "H-help?"

"Aye." Nodding, Amy shifted until she was kneeling before the girl, gazing into her eyes intently. "Do ye wanna 'elp people like ye?"

She stopped trembling. "P-people like me?"

"Ye remember what dat old geezer said, don't ye? Fifteen."

"Fifteen..." Grace stared into empty space for a moment—then her face paled, and her head whipped around to stare at Amy. "Oh my God! Ye don't mean dose girls are all still...!"

Amy's dark face was all the answer she needed.

Grace started shaking again. But this time it was different. Amy saw it in the little girl's eyes. Grace wasn't shaking with fear. She was shaking with rage.

"A...a year ago, a friend of mine went ta find mushrooms in da forest. She never came back. When I asked me mum what 'ad 'appened ta 'er, she slapped me, and..."

Her voice trailed off. There was no need to finish anyway. Amy, as a rule, never needed people to finish and far preferred it that way.

Face grim, she gave the little girl's shoulder a squeeze. "We plan ta pay DeLacy a little visit. We are quite determined ta...take care of dis matter. However, one question remains. One problem unresolved. 'ow ta get inside. I've thought about it for a long time. Sure, Patrick could dial up his lordliness to full force and pretend ta come ta hob-nob with another noble. But would DeLacy really buy it? After all, who in deir right mind would be courteous ta a pig like 'im? If, on da other hand, we arrive with something 'e wants..."

Her eyes met those of Grace, while at the back out of her mind, a voice shouted, Dis is crazy! Ye can't be seriously considering dis! 'ave ye lost yer mind?

But she didn't say anything out loud, continuing to stare at the little girl, waiting.

Grace leaned towards her, and her eyes flashed like the blade of a sword. "When do we leave?"