By the time David was up and ready to leave for Eoforwic the next morning, a little later than usual, there were two large parcels waiting for him: One of them very long and narrow, the other a square box.

“The delivery boy said they’re from his Highness, the Duke of Mannin,” Miss Rose informed him. She hovered around the table where she had put them down and was obviously curious to see what might be inside.

“I see,” David said. “Well, that was quick.”

“You were expecting a gift from His Highness?” the housekeeper asked, shocked.

David hesitated. “Less a gift, more a necessary provisions for the job he wants me to do,” he hedged and opened the long, narrow box first. “Oh yes, this’ll do nicely,” he muttered to himself. He took the sword out, pulled it out of its scabbard, and swung it through the air, grinning. George Louis did know him, after all.

It was a proper duelling sword, a weapon made for one purpose alone: to kill a single opponent in a straight-up fight. The blade was stiff, and light, and ideal to run a foe through yet just wide enough to take a slight edge. Enough to cut flesh. Perfectly balanced, too. The hilt and guard were practical rather than representative, though what decorations they did possess were nicely done.

Miss Rose backed away a few steps.

The other box contained not one but two of the new percussion revolvers, both looking like they had never been fired before, complete with ammunition, caps, and a black powder flask. David decided to leave them in the box until he could take them to a range to test them thoroughly.

He did hang the sword in its scabbard to his belt, smiling. He could already hear Nathan’s comments on how flowers were a more common gift in courtship, but he certainly preferred this.

“What – what is this job His Highness wants you to do, if I may ask, Sir?” Miss Rose interrupted his train of thought.

“He’s worried about hired cutthroats,” David said calmly. Or, possibly, he was just eager to woo him with shiny things.

“Oh my,” Miss Rose muttered with a nervous flutter of her hands. “Oh my, let’s hope not.”

“Let’s hope not,” David agreed. “But it’s still better to be prepared.”

People on the train once again eyed him, slightly worried, armed as he was, while interestingly, the werewolves didn’t react to the sword, except for Alvin who asked: “That’s new, isn’t it?”

“The duke is worried about Valoisian hired killers,” David explained once again.

“Since you’re back, does that mean that you got those mad ones?”

David nodded. “I did get them. When did they execute Spencer?” he asked. “And who did?”

Alvin shuddered visibly and looked away. “The guards said he is an actual executioner,” he said softly. “Don’t think he knew how to use a crossbow well, though. He fired two shots of silver, but it still took an hour for Spencer to die. They brought him in the second day you were gone, cause Spencer started chewing on his bars.”

“Great,” David sighed. “The executioner didn’t cut his throat, so he’d go quicker?”

“Didn’t want to go in there at all.”

“Well, I suppose it’s good that I’m back,” David muttered darkly. “Though I very much hope that we won’t lose anyone else. Did the guards mention another werewolf coming to the company?” David added. “I met a sane one in the forest.”

“They don’t really talk to us,” Alvin shrugged. “Only to yell. Not like you.”

“Right.”

David stared back over his shoulder, but he couldn’t even really blame the men. For them, it was probably still hard to believe that there was such a thing as a sane monster, a creature of magic that could be trusted.

“Well, I’ll be back tomorrow,” David promised. “Unless something else comes up, I mean.”

Alvin nodded. “Two more full moons,” he muttered.

David hesitated. “Honestly, that may depend on when the Valoisian fleet lands. Could be that you guys will be send out to help defend the coast even before your fifth full moon. Unless Greg pulls off a miracle and brings us several elders, we’ll need every single werewolf available.”

Alvin’s face lit up at those words, and then he looked away somewhat sheepishly. “Now I almost wish your brother doesn’t find anyone. Or only one or two elders.”

David smiled wryly and left the prison. George Louis was already getting impatient.

“It’s past lunchtime,” he complained. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Too kind of you,” David said. “What’s on the schedule today, anyway?”

“There’s not much left, since you’re late,” George Louis gave back. “I’ll be dealing with some paperwork. Running a duchy from this far away is a pain.”

“Exciting,” David said. “I thought you have people for that.”

“They still need my input every now and then.”

David pulled up a chair. “You didn’t happen to have any report about a werewolf around here? A sane one?”

“You should ask downstairs about that. Why?”

David shrugged. “I asked when I was downstairs, they didn’t know anything. I met this one while on the hunt. Didn’t turn human, but they nodded or shook their head at my questions. Didn’t give a real clear answer when I asked whether they were coming here.”

George Louis didn’t look particularly impressed, for all that he said: “Interesting. Any chance it’s someone older?”

“Actually, yes,” David said. “I can’t be entirely sure, I was dozing when they came walking up. But something woke me, and I’m wondering if it was the same thing I felt around Fenn or the Morgulon.”

George Louis put his quill down at those words. “Care to elaborate on that?”

So David did his best to explain the strange aura the Morgulon had emitted when she had been close, the way he could feel her move even when he didn’t see her.

“It might have been nothing like that,” he finished. “Might have been just a bird that woke me. But I just thought it was worth keeping an eye out for them.”

“Absolutely,” George Louis agreed.

Morgulon raised her head when they crossed the makeshift bridge across the Lour as if someone had called her name. Lane, and Morgulon, as well as Jody, Mia, and Chester had started moving towards Eoforwic, towards the coast, so that hopefully they would get there in time for the first attack of the Empire. Morgulon could only move slowly, so they had left first. Bernadette and pack had taken Morgulon’s place with Eyal’s crew, and Charles, Jody, and Mia would stay at First Camp. They weren’t actual elders, but between the three of them and the two young werewolves still there, they should be able to keep the bridge crew safe.

Lane glanced over towards the building site, abandoned in the last light of day. Work on the bridge was progressing steadily, and to Lane’s inexperienced eyes it actually looked mostly done. At least there was a continuous frame across the river.

Only when she looked back from the other side of the river, Lane realized that while the first bars stretched all the way across, there was no platform to it yet – nothing for the rails to go on.

When they arrived at First Camp, where they would have to stay for four days because of the upcoming full moon, all the workers came to stare at Morgulon. Word had travelled, of course, about the pregnancy. Morgulon was still looking into the distance distractedly.

“Is something wrong?” Lane asked Mia, once they sat around the big bonfire in the middle of First Camp, where the navvies were roasting two pigs. Morgulon seemed barely interested in the food and peculiarly unbothered by the huge fire.

“There’s someone,” Mia said. “I can only feel them like, really faintly. Either they’re really far away, or they’re not all that old.”

“I bet it’s someone going to Eoforwic,” Jody said.

“Would that count as far away?” Lane asked though she was pretty certain the answer would be no.

Jody shook her head. “Ten miles isn’t far, no. Still, they’d be an elder, for us to notice them.”

“Let’s hope it’s someone going to Eoforwic then,” Lane said. “We could use another elder.”

She couldn’t help feeling worried, though. This night wouldn’t be a problem, but tomorrow night would be the first night of full moon. Had this strange elder found a place where it would be safe for them to transform? She had seen some newspaper reports according to which the first villages were starting to put up cages for werewolves. But without that...

Lane was woken way too early the next morning by someone pounding at the door of the hut she had been put up in. Morgulon, who had gone to sleep outside said the door, was nowhere to be seen when Lane groggily opened it.

“Sorry to wake you up so early, Ma’am,” the soldier on the other side said. “But there’s a strange werewolf outside the Camp.”

Lane groaned. “Seriously, Morgulon?” she muttered.

“Ma’am?”

“Just a moment,” Lane sighed. “I’ll be right there.”

When she stepped outside of the hut, the soldier was gone, and Morgulon was back, staring at her expectantly in the cold grey first light of day.

“Don’t look at me like that. Don’t pretend you didn’t somehow call them here.”

Morgulon wagged her tail once and settled down in front of the hut again. Lane glared at her for a moment longer, before she followed the guard towards the gates of First Camp. It was still closed, with guards milling about when she approached. They waited until Nathan Feleke, officially the resident werewolf hunter of First Camp, got there, to push them wide open.

There was indeed a werewolf out there, restlessly walking up and down a good stone throw away from the Camp. As soon as Lane and Nathan approached, he froze and turned human. Despite the time of the month, it was a smooth, very fast transformation. Lane could hear someone whistle behind her at the sight of the naked man standing in front of her. His age was hard to guess behind the shaggy beard, steel grey all the way. Not old, though, if the rest of his physique was anything to go by.

“Why couldn’t it be a woman,” Nathan muttered, quietly enough that probably only Lane could hear him.

“Who’re you?” the werewolf asked, looking back and forth between her and Nathan. He kept a good twenty yards between them, clearly ready to run.

“My name is Lane deLande. You might have heard about me under different names. This is Nathan Feleke.”

To Lane’s surprise, the werewolf didn’t even twitch when he heard their names. All he asked was: “The Morgulon?”

“She’s resting,” Lane said. “What’s your name?”

“Dale.” He looked around. “Those cages. Full moon only, yes?”

“They’re for full moon nights alone, yes,” Nathan confirmed.

“Want to see the Morgulon.”

Before Lane could say anything, Jody called from up the parapet: “She’s asleep. Don’t you dare bother her!”

They glared at each other, and Dale was the first to look away, looking around again. Lane thought he was searching the parapets for more werewolves. After a moment, he turned back towards Lane and Nathan. “I can come in? And help fight the Rot? Or would I go into cage now?”

“We’re not putting anyone into a cage until evening,” Lane said. “But yes, you can come into the camp, until work starts.”

He nodded, and transformed again at those words, and padded right past Lane into the camp. He seemed surprisingly unbothered by her or Nathan, and despite Jody’s warning, he went to find Morgulon right away. Lane hurried after him when she realized where he was going. When she got there, he sat on the ground, looking truly stunned for the first time. Lane could see Nathan grin.

At least Morgulon hadn’t woken up.

“Don’t you dare,” Jody whispered from behind Lane. “She hasn’t turned human for three new moons now. She’s tired!”

Dale nodded and retreated slowly.

“Yes, probably the first werewolf cubs born on Loegrion since Morgulon herself,” Jody answered a silent question, once they were around a corner. “No, we don’t know when they’ll be born. Not too much longer, I hope.”

“But hopefully also not before the Valoise land,” Lane added.

Dale looked at her, head tilted. He still seemed surprised when Lane began to answer his unspoken question and explained about the first suppression force they were expecting to land at the coast soon.

“We don’t know when, exactly,” Jody added. “But very soon, like, not this full moon, but before the next. No, we have no idea how bad it’ll be. Reinforcements are on their way, though. We just gotta hope they get here in time.”

Lane jumped, and Nathan stopped in his tracks, too. “What did you just say?” she asked.

Jody looked at her and frowned. “You were the one who sent Greg,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but are you sure he found someone?” Lane asked.

“Morgulon said so. I thought you knew.”

“How would I know?” Lane hissed. “Neither you, nor any of the others said anything! Who did he find?”

Jody shrugged. “Can’t say. They’re still too far, even for Morgulon to tell.”

Lane tried to not get her hopes up too much, but she had to ask: “You said the further the distance, the older the werewolf has to be for you to notice, yes? So that means Greg found someone really old?”

“Maybe,” Jody said. “Either that, or he found several people willing to help.”

“We should tell David right away,” Nathan said.

“I’ll go write to him,” Lane said, and hurried away, almost giddy with relief.

Greg had found someone. Either someone powerful, or enough werewolves that Morgulon could already sense them, anyway.

“Sun, I wish they could be more precise,” she muttered while she hurried over to the Captain’s hut.

Captain Reed was already wide awake, and clearly waiting for her to report on the new werewolf. “Any good news?” he asked.

“Yes, actually,” Lane said, and quickly relayed what little she knew about Dale.

“Sir Nathan is keeping an eye on him?”

Lane nodded. “He is. And I need to send a message with the first train to Eoforwic.”

“You can also send a telegram now,” Reed informed her. “If you’re in a hurry.”

“Right, I saw the lines.” Lane considered it. “No, I need to write this out, and it’ll be fine if it gets there on the train. There will be a train to Eoforwic today, right?”

After she finished the letter, Lane rode out after the workers, who had already gotten back to the bridge. Jody, Mia, Chester, and the two other werewolves who had watched over Eyal’s crew until now were sheltering from the stiff wind as much as possible in a small natural depression in the ground. Dale was close by, but up on the tiny hill, watching the workers climb all over the scaffolding of the bridge.

Nathan was perched on the highest part of the stage, from where he could keep an eye on both sides of the Lour. He would have been able to shoot any of the werewolves from up there, too, but Lane suspected that he had just climbed up there out of boredom. She waved at him and directed her horse over to the group of werewolves to watch with them as the work progressed.

Once the relief over Jody’s revelation had worn off, it was a slow day. Frustratingly so. Lane had gotten used to the fact that there wasn’t much for her to do when she was out with the workers, but with Eyal’s crew, at least she had been able to talk to the navvies or ride around the camp. Here, all she could do was watch from a distance – there was no way she would try to climb that bridge while it was nothing but a framework. The weather didn’t help, the grey clouds that felt like they were going to smother the whole forest, and the icy wind blowing in from the north.

Lane returned back to First Camp to check on Morgulon after the workmen had finished their lunch. She once again considered travelling onwards to Eoforwic today, but then tossed the thought. She didn’t want to leave Morgulon for more than a few hours, and full moon would only be harder for her in the big city.

All there was to do was sit around and wait for the moon to wane again.