David walked out of the infirmary shirtless, over to the room where Andrew, Nathan and Greg were just waking up. Technically, the place was an infirmary, too, but for less dire cases. The healers only walked through a couple of times a day to make sure no patient was getting worse, leaving the rest to the nuns.

“The hell have you been?” Andrew asked as David rummaged through the chest with their belongings. They shared one, because the keep still wasn’t really ready for these many people, and space was tight.

“Basement cells,” David said roughly. His throat felt as if he’d been shouting for hours.

“Why?” Andrew asked, bewildered.

David stared at him.

“How many?” Greg asked, who had caught on faster.

“Four.”

“Four what?”

“Oh, wake up, Andrew,” Nathan sneered.

“Four mad werewolves,” Greg said quietly.

“Four dead werewolves, judging from David’s lack of a shirt.”

David bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from snarling something at Nathan. It wouldn’t help. He knew it wouldn’t help. He knew that Nathan tended to spread his own misery around, especially if he couldn’t go out and take a hike in the wilderness for whatever reason, and if someone fell for it and struck back verbally, it would only make things worse for everyone.

David wished he could actually fight Nathan right now, because that might have helped them both, venting on someone who had absolutely no compulsion to pull their punches.

Instead, he got dressed in the last clean shirt he had brought from Eoforwic, checked that he hadn’t gotten any blood on the rest of his clothes and shoes, and walked out of the room again. He took the stairs to the top of the keep, but paused in front of the door to the suite where the duke resided. He was absolutely not in the mood for more of George Louis’s attempts to woo him, so after a second, he asked the servants, who were standing next to the door arranging a platter with breakfast: “He’s finished dressing, hasn’t he?”

Wilfred, the duke’s personal manservant, gave him a way too knowing look and nodded before pulling the door open.

George Louis stood in front of his mirror when David entered. He was, indeed, dressed properly, but still examined a couple of hangers with clothes.

“Ah, David. Very good. What do you think?” he asked, hanging one of them over the mirror and then holding a jacket out for David.

“Red isn’t really your colour,” David said because he’d be dammed if he gave the man an excuse to undress.

“Luckily, I rather think it’s yours,” George Louis said, unfazed. He took the coat off the hanger and tossed it at David, who caught it by reflex. “There’ll be a crowd. You’ll need to look the part.”

David stared at the garment. It was a darker red than the soldiers wore and more modern than their uniforms’ cut, but the reference was quite clear.

“Here’s the rest of it,” George Louis said, and took the second hanger from the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Did you actually bring a tailor?” David asked, a little confused by where these clothes came from. They were extremely well made. The riding coat he was holding was velvet, and he would have been willing to bet the shirt was silk. He tried the jacket on and found it fit well in the way only bespoke clothes could.

“Don’t tell me this is something you had just lying around.”

“My tailor took your measurements from the dirty clothes you left at the house in Eoforwic a few weeks ago,” George Louis said, and he almost managed to hide how smug he was about that.

David opened his mouth, closed it again. “The clothes I wore when I killed those two werewolves? How much did you pay the poor man to even touch that bloody mess?”

“Enough,” George Louis replied. He hung the clothes up again and pulled a chair out from the table. “Will you let me see the rest of it?” he added, pointing at the screen that sectioned off a part of the room. “I’ll stay right here.”

David didn’t quite trust his word on that, but he didn’t feel like walking downstairs again to get changed, either. So he took the hanger from the mirror and walked behind the screen, kicking away his riding boots, and changed into the black riding breeches made of very fine wool. The shirt was silk as David had already guessed. The waistcoat was satin, also black, probably another nod to the uniforms George Louis’s men wore. The Valoisian-oriented court fashion was usually more colourful. A neck-stock and gloves finished the ensemble.

“Hm, very nice,” George Louis said, looking David up and down when he stepped out in the open. “One last thing.”

He picked something up from the table and walked around David, quickly hanging and fastening a piece of jewellery around his neck.

“An anti-magic amulet,” he said, stepping in front of David to have another look. “I’m sure you’re going to need it sooner or later. It’s silver, so it should at least deter the Rot a little, too.”

David stepped in front of the mirror and almost gaped. “Tell me that’s not a real diamond.”

“Of course that’s a real diamond. No, don’t hide it under the collar. Wear it where people can see it.”

David paused in straightening the neckcloth. “Are you sure?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder. “You don’t think people might misunderstand?”

“After I just told the council yesterday that I would reward loyalty in gemstones? I’m just making an example of you.”

“I see, “ David said. “Is that a warning?”

George Louis’s face fell. “No, David. That was a pun. Stop taking everything so damn serious, will you? Take that as an order, if you want.”

David turned back to the mirror. In the reflection, he could see George Louis walk up to the window and stare down at the courtyard. His face was still annoyed.

“When will we be leaving for Breachpoint?” David broke the silence.

“As soon as the carts are loaded,” George Louis gave back. After a few seconds he added: “We’ll take those of the dead soldiers that worshipped Mithras. They’ll be burned on funeral pyres at dusk.”

David nodded. No doubt, the men would be given all the honours, while d’Evier’s body was thrown to the fish.

More propaganda.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” George Louis asked.

David shook his head. “Not hungry.”

“You’re not hungry or you don’t want to eat with me?”

“I’m not hungry and I’ll probably throw up if I try to eat anything right now.”

“Oh,” George Louis said. “Do you want some coffee, at least? I don’t know how much longer we’ll have any or when we’ll be able to procure more.”

“You just had to make an awful morning worse, didn’t you?” David grumbled. “I’ll take some coffee.”

George Louis called for Wilfred, while David thought about what the duke had so offhandedly thrown into the room. No more coffee, for coffee didn’t grow on Loegrion, and it would likely take some time until they could establish safe trading routes for it again.

“What else are we going to have to do without?” he asked, once the duke’s manservant had brought in the breakfast tray.

George Louis shrugged. “Chocolate and cocoa will be difficult, too. Some spices. Silk, unless we can get trees and caterpillars. Nothing essential.”

“Except for the coffee.”

George Louis laughed as if that was in any way funny.

“I’m hoping to strike a deal with some pirate captains,” the duke said, grinning. “Shall I ask them to prioritize vessels carrying coffee?”

“You don’t think the people will complain?” David asked, ignoring the question.”What about sugar? Or cotton?”

George Louis shrugged. “That’s what sugar beets are for. We’ll have sweets, don’t worry. And cotton grows in the south of Loegrion. As soon as we have the railway to the west coast, we can see about reaching out across the ocean to the twin continents on the west. I’m sure coffee could be grown in Tawantinsuyu. They were amongst the first to produce cocoa, so we’ll get chocolate that way, too.”

“You’ll need some brave captains for that,” David noted.

George Louis nodded, and glanced out of the window again. “I’ve been wondering about this before,” he continued. “But since we’re talking about the sea: Can werewolves drown?”

“I honestly don’t know,” David said.

“You never asked? How about an educated guess?”

“Why do you want to know that?” David asked.

“Just curiosity. There seems to be a lot I don’t know about these most important of our assets.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know, either.”

When George Louis just looked at him, David sighed.

“I would guess that yes, they can drown. It probably won’t be easy to kill them that way, since they do swim quite well, but I would reckon there’s a limit to how long they can go without breathing. Lee hinted that they can starve to death, too. They’re far from immortal. Greg reckons that they can be killed with any regular weapon as well, theoretically.”

George Louis looked up. “How?” he asked. “I thought only silver could do it. Or a beheading.”

David shrugged, cursing himself. For a moment, he had forgotten who he was talking to – that George Louis wasn’t the man he had once believed him to be. But now it was too late.

“They survive most injuries not caused by silver because they just transform and the wound vanishes. But if you can stop them from transforming – because it’s new or full moon – they should die.”

“But surely, if this were true, hunters would have noticed before, and saved themselves the silver?”

David shrugged. “I reckon that might in fact be the main reason why it’s supposedly better to go hunting on full moon. I wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out that three hundred years ago, silver was used any day that wasn’t a full moon. I don’t know. Maybe there’s something in those parts of the archives you’ve got access to?”

“I’ll have someone check,” George Louis said. “But I doubt it. The people who brought them to Mannin were trying to profit from the war, so they grabbed everything they thought might prove valuable. I doubt that details about werewolf-hunting techniques would have been included.”

He paused and added. “Still, doesn’t hurt to check. We should get ready to move out, though.”