St. Giradin awoke before the sun had yet peeked over the horizon. The embers of the campfire still gave off a faint, orange glow, and the birds had not yet begun their songs. He rose from his bedroll and peered up at Sir Emeric, who stood on the edges of the camp with his sword in hand.

St. Giradin glanced back at Sir Cristoff, Sir Philip, and Shlomo, who were all still asleep, then whispered to Sir Emeric, "What is it?"

Sir Emeric briefly looked over his shoulder at St. Giradin, his glassy eyes conveying both affection and concern. "We're being watched," he whispered back.

St. Giradin rose to his feet and picked up his seax from the ground. "By who?"

Sir Emeric's eyelids narrowed as he scanned beyond the trees. "I saw a plague doctor mask... And there's someone else..."

"What if it's Melcher Fitz's men coming to greet us?" Giradin asked, his eyes straining to see what Sir Emeric had spotted.

Sir Emeric shook his head. His emerald eyes darting around the forest. "No. If Melcher Fitz sent people to meet us they wouldn't be hiding in the woods on their approach. Also, he'd probably send more than two."

A groan from behind St. Giradin startled him, and he turned to see Shlomo and Sir Cristoff both rising from their bedrolls. Both men reached for their weapons as they arose.

"S'goin' on?" Shlomo grumbled as he rubbed his eyes.

"There's a stranger in the woods watching us," St. Giradin said. "Someone with a plague doctor mask."

For a brief moment, St. Giradin could swear he saw a knowing look on Shlomo's face. As if he had his suspicions as to who this intruder might be.

"You can put the weapons away!" called out a familiar voice. "If I wanted to hurt you, you'd never see me."

"Fulk!" St. Giradin called out, joy in his voice at the imminent reunion.

When St. Giradin made a move to run out to Fulk, Sir Emeric held out his hand to the saint's chest to stop him. "Let him come to us," he whispered darkly.

Fulk emerged from behind the trees, dressed in his plague doctor uniform. In his hands he held a long rope, and at the end of that rope was a woman with bound wrists, a blindfold, and a gag over her mouth.

Is that... Levanna?

Fulk drew near the group, but Sir Emeric stepped between him and St. Giradin. Fulk yanked on the rope in his hands, causing the witch to stumble forward. "You Templars know how to deal with witches, right?"

"Aye..." said Sir Emeric.

"You can have this one," said Fulk, holding out the end of the rope to Sir Emeric. "She's been filling my head with all manner of nonsense. Trying to get me to kill Giradin and join her in the pits of Hell. I can't claim to be a good man, but killing someone like Giradin is a step too far."

"Because he's a saint?" Sir Emeric asked.

Fulk's head tilted to one side. "Oh? Is that official now? No, I just meant because he's pathetic. If I was going to kill him I may as well drown kittens while I'm at it."

Sir Emeric grunted at Fulk's insult.

St. Giradin laughed. "You may find that a lot of things are different now, my friend. I am weak, but the God whose spirit dwells within me is strong."

Fulk stared for a moment, his face unreadable behind that steel mask, then nodded. "He certainly is. Templar, are you going to take the witch or not?"

Sir Emeric grasped the end of the rope and gently led Levanna closer to himself. "What proof do you have that she's a witch?"

Fulk snorted. "Well, when a woman has a cauldron and mixes in it such ingredients as the liver of a newborn babe..."

Sir Emeric rolled his eyes. "Yes, that tends to make it rather obvious. How did you find her?"

"Does it matter?" Fulk asked with a shrug.

Sir Emeric's brow furrowed. "Maybe."

Fulk hesitated a moment, then said, "Damn... alright, then." He reached up to the straps behind his mask and started to undo them. "Giradin, back when you healed my wrists something went wrong. I had... I don't know... some kind of bad reaction." He slipped off the mask, and all present gasped at the sight. His skin had turned a bright shade of yellow, and every vein under his flesh was black and writhing. His irises had turned blood red, and his pupils white.

Sir Emeric raised his blade and touched the tip to Fulk's Adam's apple.

"Don't hurt him!" St. Giradin cried.

"He's possessed," Sir Emeric said. "I've seen this only once before. This is what happens when spirits within a person's soul are at war with one another."

Fulk raised both his hands in surrender. "And sticking me with your poker's gonna keep you safe from demons, is it?"

Shlomo chuckled.

"Safe from you," Sir Emeric grunted. "St. Giradin will protect us from the demons."

"Just give me a chance to explain myself," Fulk said. "After that, you can be as murderous as pleases your little, righteous heart."

St. Giradin placed a hand on Sir Emeric's forearm, an action which caused the Templar to slowly withdraw his blade from Fulk's throat. "I want to hear what he has to say," said St. Giradin. "Fulk's saved my life many times. I owe him at least this much."

Sir Emeric's sword lowered to rest at his side, his fingers still gripping the hilt. "Fine."

Fulk breathed a sigh of relief. "After Giradin healed me in Elekvaz, something was wrong with me, so I went to see this witch, thinking she could help."

"Why didn't you turn to us for help?" Sir Emeric snapped. "Rather than turning to this... this devil-worshiper?"

Fulk shrugged. "Old habits. Besides, I figured you might just kill me to be safe rather than try to help. So, I went to her, and she... well, she did things to me. Terrible things..." Fulk shuddered. "She said I was possessed and that she'd try to cast the spirit out, but I think she conjured more into me instead. My dreams have been..." Fulk shook his head. "This bitch really messed me up."

Sir Cristoff tapped the flat of his blade on Levanna's shoulder. "Would it please you if we killed her?"

"It would," said Fulk.

Sir Emeric shook his head. "She deserves at least a trial. We'll find a judge and try her for witchcraft. Right now, all we have is this man's word."

Fulk smirked. "And the word of a murderer is worth spit, of course." He returned his gaze to St. Giradin. "I came back to you for two reasons. One was so you could deal with the witch, the other was because Fitz is pissed off at me for leaving. He already sent men to hunt me down. Hell, he sent Mujahid after me. The only way I can go back to the monastery and expect to live is if you pardon me and I arrive with you."

St. Giradin nodded. "That sounds fair. Stay close with us and I'll make sure Fitz doesn't harm you."