I reached Westminster Bridge at a quarter to ten. Waiting for my companions, I leaned against the thick stones of the checkpoint building. My new helmet made a quiet clink as it contacted the wall. I had picked up the bassinet helm from the Church smith when I had gone to pick up my repaired armor. It was an expensive purchase, but offered excellent head protection. The solid steel covered everything except my face. I could have gotten one with a visor, but after trying it out, I decided to risk leaving my face uncovered. The extra protection wasn't worth the loss of peripheral vision.

“Is that you, Inquisitor?” a voice from above me said. I took a step away from the wall and looked up to the top of the checkpoint. A tall man peered at me from behind the crenellations, a halberd held casually at his side.

“Yes?” I asked, equally uncertain.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” the man said with a laugh. “Give me one second, I’ll be right down.”

I waited, perplexed as I tried to remember where I had seen the man before. After a minute or so, he stepped out of the checkpoint. He wore the armor of a Bridge Guard, a conquistador helmet and breastplate over blue gambeson. There were bags around his eyes, and a five o'clock shadow on his jaw, but his smile seemed friendly enough.

“Adam Woods,” he said, seeing the lack of recognition on my face. “We met right over there a few nights ago.” He jerked a thumb towards the bridge.

“Lieutenant, good to see you again,” I said, finally recognizing the halberdier. If I hadn’t been dead on my feet when the tall man had introduced himself it probably wouldn’t have taken so long to place him. Almost getting killed repeatedly by undead monstrosity was enough to wear anyone out.

I had mixed feelings about the Guard Lieutenant. On the one hand, he had forced me to spend a night on the bridge, leaving me to fight off zombies and sleep on pitted stone. On the other hand, when morning came he had paid for my wounds to be healed and waived my fee for reentering London.

“Likewise Inquisitor,” the Lieutenant said, covering a yawn. “I was actually hoping I would run into you again. I’m looking to get a party together.”

“A party?” I asked, confused.

He nodded. “For my main quest. I thought I could do it solo, but after days of banging my head against it, I’m ready to give in and ask for help.”

I blinked and tried to hide my surprise. I hadn’t realized, as tired as I was when I first met the man, that he was a fellow tester. I couldn’t remember seeing him around the Bitter Flagon, but if he was trying to finish his quest, he couldn't be one of Dave’s boycotters either.

“What’s the quest?” I asked.

“I need to defend the bridge for three days without dying or letting anything get past the checkpoint. It’s a sort of roguelite thing. Each night’s attacks are procedurally generated along with what guardsmen and bonuses I can choose. If I make it through the night without a breach, the next night gets harder. When I fail, the difficulty resets.”

“Gotcha,” I said. I had played plenty of games with similar mechanics. “What about permanent progression?” I asked. A lot of games like that had things that could be permanently unlocked to make future attempts easier.

“Just my level. I get xp for each wave cleared, and I don’t lose any for dying. My guardsmen's equipment and abilities and bridge upgrades get reset with every failure though. I can consistently get past the first night, but the second night boss keeps killing me.”

“So you figured you would recruit some help?”

“Exactly,” he said with an affable grin. “I remembered how you fought the other night and figured you would be a handy guy to have around. Even better if you have some friends that can join us.”

I gave the request some thought. Killing waves of zombies would be good xp, but I didn’t see what else we had to gain from helping Adam. It was all well and good to lend a hand to our fellow testers, but we had our own quests to do. We were already spread thin.

“I’ll have to talk to my friends,” I hedged.

“That's all I can ask for,” Adam said, nodding. “I made it through last night without issue, so I could use the help tonight. You know where to find me if you can make it.” He covered a yawn with a hand. “For now, I’m off to bed.” With a wave the Lieutenant reentered the checkpoint building. I doubted the stout fortress had comfortable bunks and I was grateful for my room in St. Paul’s.

I waited until our party was across the bridge before bringing up Adam’s request.

“Sounds like fun,” Gerald said. “Having enemies come to us sounds like a nice change of pace. It’s not like we have plans for tonight.”

“We do have to sleep sometime,” Sarah interjected.

“Imagine the xp!” Eva said excitedly. “Even split with the Bridge Guards, constant waves of zombies have to be worth more than the occasional fights we find in the city.”

Sarah grunted noncommittally, but didn’t object further.

“Well, we have plenty of time to think it over,” I said. “For now, let's focus on getting to the hospital.”

The trip to The Magdalen Hospital for the Reception of Penitent Prostitutes passed without incident. We followed Westminster Road as much as the destroyed infrastructure would allow and only had to backtrack slightly on Blackfriars to reach the complex. It was slower than a straight line would be, but a much easier path to follow. The zombies we met on the way were scattered and easily dealt with. I got some more practice with my pistols, but without a higher perception, I would never be much of a marksman.

Once in the hospital complex, I was relieved to see the abomination’s remains. Despite Sarah’s assurances, I half expected videogame bullshit to force us to redo the fight. Even better, the corpses that made up the monster’s body had dried out. The desiccated bodies were easier to dispose of, and much more pleasant to deal with. Still not great, admittedly, but better than the oozing flesh from yesterday.

Gerald got started on dumping the corpses in the open area behind the building complex. Not as ideal as burning or cremating would be, but at least they would be out of the way. Hopefully once they were in open city they would get cleaned up like normal zombie bodies. Not that we knew how that worked. I had never seen a zombie despawn, but the zombies we killed were always gone by the next day. However the game cleaned up corpses, I was glad we didn’t have to worry about it.

Sarah stayed with Gerald to document the abomination’s decomposition and stay within earshot while Eva and I explored the rest of the compound. The Harlequin scouted ahead, while I followed as quietly as I could. Her padded cloth and leather motley was perfect for stalking the abandoned buildings. In my chainmail, I couldn’t match her stealth. Not without using my necklace of St. Piran anyway. The relic would render me invisible to the zombie’s senses. But since it could only be activated for ten minutes a day, it would be a waste to use now.

Eva killed any zombies we found from stealth. She efficiently drove a long blade into each skull before gently lowering the corpse to the floor. I didn’t know if it was a skill or the knife that let her punch through bone so easily, but she rarely needed my help. There was one tricky moment in an attic where a handful of undead were hidden by the room’s junk piles. After the initial scare of a zombie pushing over a vase as it struggled out of its hiding place, we cleared the room with sword and throwing knives without much difficulty.

Exploring the buildings, we found sitting and dining rooms, kitchens, and laundry rooms, but most of all we found dormitories. Rows and rows of beds covered with a thick layer of dust. Whatever the hospital did before the Night of Jagged Teeth, it seemed more focused on housing people than healing them. We didn’t find any surgical rooms, medical tools, bandages, or medicine. Maybe this was just a place for holding the sick?

By the time we finished clearing the last building, Gerald had emptied the courtyard of bodies. We found our fellow testers in the chapel. Sarah was examining the ground by the altar again, and Gerald sat on one of the few intact pews, keeping her company.

“Well, it will be a lot of work,” I said, sitting next to the Crusader. “But there is definite potential. All the facilities you need, minus the well, plenty of room for a garrison, and defensible walls.”

The big man nodded along, clearly pleased with the building complex. “We’ll need supplies and craftsmen to board the windows and repair the gate,” Eva brought up. “I don’t think it’s something we can do ourselves. Do you have a plan for that?”

“Nope,” Gerald said ruefully. “No idea where I’d even start. Should we ask Jim?”

“You should start with your quest giver,” I disagreed. “Our guildmates could be helpful, but we’re going to need NPCs for this. The Church will have the resources to put something together. Who do you report to, Archbishop Peter?”

“The Commander of Knights,” the Crusader replied with a shake of his head. “The Archbishop is in control overall, but doesn’t have direct oversight over the Church Military forces.”

“So talk to him then. See about getting craftsmen to fortify the outpost and a garrison to defend it,” I said.

“Since it sounds like we are done here for now,” Sarah said, walking over. “Could we follow the ritual trace I found?” It was the best clue for the Archivist's quest we had found so far, and she was obviously eager to chase it down.

“I don’t see why not,” Eva said. “Plenty of daylight left.”

Following the ritual magic proved troublesome. The trail was, more or less, a straight line. It would have been an easy task if not for the twisted streets, collapsed buildings, and occasional impassible gorge carved into the earth. With every obstacle we had to carefully make our way around before painstakingly reacquiring the track. Since only Sarah could see the magic, and only from a very short distance away, the rest of us were relegated to guard duty as she paced back and forth.

The packs of zombies were more numerous and larger the deeper we got into the Old City. We had to tactically use choke points to prevent ourselves from getting surrounded. It could have been an issue if the zombies were smarter or more feral. As it was, they just bunched up at the end off alleyways, patiently waiting their turn to get slaughtered. They never tried to flank, or dogpile our tanks.

With the right choke point, Gerald and I could hold off any number almost indefinitely. It was exhaustion more than damage that threatened our formation. I could only hack and bash zombies for so long before my arms grew heavy and my breathing labored. After a partially large pack, I slumped against a wall, my lungs pumping like a bellows. I was glad I had raised my Constitution. Without the few extra points, I might not have made it to the end.

Geald’s breathing was far from steady, but he seemed to be holding up better than me. I might be much faster than the big man, but his Strength and Constitution put mine to shame. Eva wasn’t winded, but she rubbed her arms, complaining that all the throwing was giving her a repetitive stress injury. She had actually managed to run out of her seemingly endless supply of throwing knives during the fight and had been forced to switch to her dueling stilettos. Sarah let us rest as she looted the zombies and recovered Eva’s knives. Normally we would share the chore, but I was glad for the moment to catch my breath.

Once we had all recovered, Sarah picked up the trail where we left off and we continued deeper into the Old City. It wasn’t much later when we reached a set of steps leading into a large ornate building. The church loomed over the broken street like a gargoyle.

Sarah, watching her feet, almost walked right through the broken-down doors before I could stop her. When I pulled her to a halt, she looked at me questioningly. In response, I pointed up at the building.

“Recognize where we are?” I asked. She looked up at the church, confused, before suddenly turning pale.

“Going to fill us in?” Eva asked.

“We’ve been here before,” I explained. “There’s a massive bone golem in there. There’s a massive bone golem in there. Last time we had to run and hide on the roof until it got bored.” That it had taken until nightfall to lose interest could go unexplained for now. Our flight through the Old City at night was a touchy memory for Sarah.

“You’re stronger now and have us, can’t we just kill it?” Gerald asked, hefting his two-hander for emphasis.

“Not with swords and knives,” I said. “I doubt we could do more than scratch it.”

“It has to have a weakness,” Eva said.

“Holy magic, or uh, fire,” Sarah said, regaining her rhythm. “A Holy Witch or Pyromancer would be perfect.”

Gerald rubbed his chin. “My chants just affect myself. Holy Strike might do some damage, but I haven’t taken it yet.”

“I’m not sure about Holy magic, but I am pretty sure I know where I can get some fire,” I said, leading the party back the way we had come.