Prag was dreaming. He was dreaming one of his favourite dreams, he had it often when he was in a comfortable bed. He was walking. With each step he'd travel miles across the landscape. He'd move through fields and forests, across rivers and mountains. The whole world was his to explore and nothing could slow him down. Eventually he would stride up through the sky and wander through the silence among the stars. Tonight however, a strange and urgent voice was interrupting his repose and pulling him back towards the unpleasantness of reality.

Prag woke slowly and groggily with his sword at another man's throat.

The voice from his dream came again. "Prag!" It whispered desperately. "Prag! It's me! Warlis! For the love of drink, don't kill me!" "Warlis?" Prag mumbled blearily. "Didn't I shoot you?"

Warlis had attempted to sneak in and wake Prag quietly and, much to his chagrin, ended up pinned against a wall with a knife at his throat, a knee in his groin and his own sword arm very nearly broken. "Yes, you shot me in the leg. It's much better now. Why don't we laugh about it over a round of ale, eh?" Warlis was nearly in tears trying to talk down the half-conscious mercenary.

"I was having a very nice dream." Prag looked like he was quite willing to kill for the interruption of his good night's sleep.

"Yeah?" Warlis's voice was becoming hoarse as Prag unconsciously pressed the knife harder against the thief 's throat. "What was so nice about it?" He choked. He then smiled in the most passive manner he could muster.

"You weren't in it." Prag tossed Warlis to the ground while disarming him and nicking his purse all at once. He gave the prostrate burglar a swift kick in the ribs for good measure and considered going back to bed.

"You slit my throat Prag, you piece of toad's stool." Warlis spat out between coughs.

Prag was entirely awake now and was very much annoyed at that fact. "I did not slit your throat. I cut you neck. There's a world of difference. I could show you if you like." Prag sat down and started counting the money he'd just earned.

"This is a lot of cash to have on hand." Prag levelled a suspicious gaze at his foul-weather friend. "What's going on Warlis?"

Warlis, while trying to bandage his neck without strangling himself, was slow to reply. "It's for you Prag. I'm here to hire you."

That was not the answer Prag had expected. Nor was it an answer he was finding easy to accept. He bounced around the possibility of it being a lie, but it seemed too implausible to be invented. "Why in the hells would you want to hire me?"

"Not me Prag—Us." Warlis's voice became low and sober. "We got double crossed. We've had to go to ground and we need someone to take the fight to the two-faced-bastard-son-of-a-mule."

"Who is it?" Prag weighed the bag in his hand. It was sizable, but not so much as to pay for the death of anyone powerful or important.

"You know the shadow cloaks? Well, we've always paid for them in-kind. The old wizard that makes them would exchange them to us in return for gathering trinkets and oddities for him. It's never been anything particularly big or dangerous that he's wanted in the past. This time, though, he was looking for happened to be the dead body of the Emperor and the living body of a certain princess."

Prag was sceptical. "Kidnapping isn't exactly your normal fare. Why would Vinsen agree to it?"

"The boss didn't have much choice. Mr. Mercury, the wizard, had secretly put a contingency spell on the cloaks. He said he could turn them off whenever he wanted. Without those cloaks, we're just a rabble of catburglars and cut-purses. So Vinsen gave in and Mr. Mercury promised great rewards for the successful completion of the task."

A flare went off in Prag's mind but he couldn't catch what it was trying to illuminate. "So why are you trying to get me to off this wizard Mercury? Is that really his name?"

"I suspect as much as Prag is yours," Warlis said cynically "Whatever his real name is, he fancies himself above our little code of business ethics. Two days ago when he figured out that we had failed miserably to catch your little princess in there, he snapped his fingers and not only did our cloaks turn off, they turned against us. The clasps locked down and they shrank. Anyone who was wearing their cloaks got strangled to death. Of the ten of us up here, only three of us survived: me, cause you stole my cloak, Mert, cause he wasn't wearing his, and Figgs cause his was wet and that made it shrink slow enough for him to cut it off."

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that the only reason we're still alive is 'cause we were soaked?" Prag wasn't sure if he was grateful or annoyed at the number of times dumb luck had saved him in the past two weeks.

Warlis was too depressed to answer and continued with his explanation. "We couldn't contact Antiq either. Either nobody was answering or nobody was there to answer. We had to assume that most of them were corpsed too. So we pooled our cash and I came to hire you to dish out some retribution."

"You should know that this isn't enough to hire me to kill someone." Prag tossed the bag back to Warlis a few coins light. "And no where near enough to send me up against a wizard. What made you think I'd take this job."

"Cause he put a hit out on you." Warlis said with a sly grin. "I figured that might lower your price a little."

Prag got deadly serious. "How do you know this?"

"I have your attention now, Sir? Word went out in Antiq the day after you shot me. We got word of it through the usual channels. The contract is to kill you and then bring the kid and the girls you're travelling with back to Antiq."

Cogs were turning in Prag's mind "Who took the contract?" "No one. Fastest contract to get turned down ever. Nobody in

Antiq is gonna take a contract against you, except maybe Syd, but he's already out on work. Besides, the money looked too good. It was a shady deal. Mercury got blacklisted for it. Basically thrown right out of Antiq. "

The flare in Prag's mind went off again and the cogs in his mind screeched to a halt. "How did you find me so quickly, Warlis?" He asked with a growing sense of dread.

"Oh, we can always tell where the other Shadow Thieves are. We've got these little cape compass... oh gods I'm thick."

Prag dove under the bed grabbing for his shrunken shadow cloak. His plan bounced between burning them, and strapping them to a horse and sending it galloping of into the night. He also did a quick run of the numbers on the feasibility of sending a burning horse galloping off into the night with them strapped to it. He didn't get a chance to finish the calculations. Just as he had the cape in hand, the most terrible scream he could have ever imagined shook the house.

The boy had not been sleeping well. Something he had eaten at dinner wasn't agreeing with him. He had never had an upset stomach before, so he wasn't really sure what to do about it. He tried eating something else, but the horsehair stuffing from the chair was dry and unpleasant and certainly didn't help.

Eventually he decided to get up off the floor where he had fallen asleep and go outside for fresh air. He didn't really like being indoors.

This was a nicer indoors than the other one he had been in—warmer and softer. But it was still stuffy.

Once outside he started to cough and heave. A guard looked out of his covered watch posts, but ducked back out of the rain as soon as he was sure it was just someone who had drunk too much.

It took a good couple of minutes, but eventually he coughed up all of the cutlery that he had consumed. After that he felt much better.

He looked over the remains of the silver fork and spoon and added them to the short list of things not to eat. He had thought it might have been the chicken—the bones had been hard to swallow. He was glad it was the metal that was bad food. The chicken was tasty.

After purging himself of the mangled silverware, he found himself a little hungry again. He thought that he might like another chicken. Conveniently enough, a number of them hopped quietly over the back wall of the compound. The chicken he had eaten had been cut up and cooked, but he figured they'd probably taste just as good raw. One of them was even bounding right up to him.

It was a bit bigger than the one he had eaten earlier, and it still had all its limbs attached. It was quite a bit greener than he expected it to be, but he knew that a very white rabbit looked rather brown after Prag had cooked it, so he didn't question it. The chicken's legs were awfully long.

It mostly kept them kind of folded up except when it jumped. Chickens seemed to jump really high. They climbed well too, probably because of the long clawed fingers on their feet and their nimble little hands.

He grabbed the one that was bounding straight at him by its enormous ears and tore off its head. He thought that prudent as it seemed to have rather pointy teeth and it might have bit him if he hadn't. He then sat and calmly devoured his chicken.

He saw a couple of them leap into the guard posts. But the guards must not have been hungry because the chickens left shortly afterwards. Then even more leaped over the walls and bounded around to the front of the house.

When he reached the long leathery tail of the chicken, he found a small knife hanging from it by a chain. He carefully removed it and set it with the remains of his spoon and fork. Feeling proud that he'd learned something he finished the last remnants of his chicken happily. It wasn't quite as tasty as the cooked one, but it made him feel much more sated and a little bit bouncy.

Once finished, he started to hear a lot of chittering and some scraping in the courtyard on the other side of the house. He wandered around to see what all the chickens were up to.

He was very upset to see what they had done. The guards that were on watch were lying dead in the yard. He ran up to one and saw that his throat had been cut wide open. The chickens heard him moving and some turned their attention towards him. The others continued wrestling with the heavy bar that kept the main gate closed.

Three of the green-skinned creatures charged at him. As the first one made it within striking distance, it threw its feet in the air and whipped its tail out in front of it. The small blade attached to it would have slashed the boy's neck wide open had he not caught the thing.

He grabbed it by the knife and swung it around. The chicken made a very quiet and very high pitched squeal as it was whipped around and used as a club to smash its already airborne comrade to the ground. The third made its mark, It slashed the boy's cheek wide open then latched onto his head with all four sets of claws and prepared to bite open his throat before he could scream. Instead it found itself screaming as its large muscular legs were torn ungraciously from its hips.

The boy tossed his last opponent to the ground as the newly repaired main gate swung open. On the far side of those doors stood a horrible thing. It was almost as tall as the walls themselves. It was dripping with mud, moss, and weeds. Its long arms went all the way to the ground, dragging its long talons along the cobblestone. Its gaping mouth was filled with jagged and blackened teeth and a variety of fungi grew within his reeking maw. The stench it exuded was enough to make a man wretch and the ravenous gaze that landed on the boy was the most horrifying thing he'd ever seen in his very short life.

The kid screamed. He screamed with all his might. It was so loud that all the creatures in the yard threw their hands to their ears in pain, as did the boy. The monstrous piece of walking swamp, however, seemed only angered by the noise and it charged.

The kid's ears hurt so badly from his own cry that he failed completely to defend himself from the wall of swamp thundering towards him. The creature pulled back one of its massive arms and delivered a fist as big as a man at terrible speeds to the self-deafened boy. He flew backward, crashed through an outer wall and into the dining room. The enormous creature let out an enormous bellow and dozens more of the agile little creatures leaped over the walls. It roared again and some similar creatures raced in through the breached gate riding on the backs of boars and shaking spears.

The scream had woken everyone. The thunderous crash had them on their feet. The cacophonous bellow of the beast had them at their windows.

As Cariolta flung open her shutters she saw the throng of green-skinned monsters swarming the yard. "What in the hells are those?" she shouted.

From the window next to hers, Prag replied with all the reservation and poise required by such a situation. "What in the name of all the gods and devils did I do to deserve this. One night's rest. One! Is that too much? Warlis, I hate you. I thought you should know that before I die."

Kish, from slightly behind Cariolta added her much more focused assessment. "Close the shutters, those little things with the big ears are ravids. They can jump high enough to get in here. The ones on the boars are gremlins—nasty little things. The big thing is a swamp troll, a very large and angry swamp troll. It shouldn't be here. None of them should be. This is far from their homes and they do not get along with each other."

Kish was entirely right about the ravids being able to jump up to the windows. One of them was kind enough to demonstrate. It leapt up and grabbed hold of the window sill and was in the process of whipping its tail over its head to slash at Warlis when Prag, ungrateful for the display of jumping prowess, slammed the shutters on the creature's fingers.

"These shutters won't stop a troll if it decides it wants in." Prag shouted through the wall separating the two rooms. "Grab something sharp and let's get the hells out of here."

The four met in the lushly carpeted hallway as ready for battle as they could be. Cariolta was wearing a heavy sleeping gown which succeeded in concealing what little figure she had. Her golden locks were wrapped up in curlers and her thick layers of face whitener and rouge were still perfectly applied.

Kish was quite the opposite. Her long dark hair looked like she had already endured several hours of battle. She had managed to throw her still-wet riding jacket over her shoulders and had wrapped a sheet loosely around her waist. She was struggling to fasten enough buttons with a sword in each hand to be decent. Prag and Warlis glanced at each other with the miserable and mutual understanding that neither had enough time to savour the quantity of dark skin being displayed by the foreign princess. With great resignation, they drew their respective blades and headed for the stairs.

The Baron entered a moment later. He had pulled on some breeches and hefted a finely crafted short-spear. The Baroness followed, moving with grace and elegance to shame the two half dressed princesses. Her satin sleeping gown was covered by a long and equally luxurious robe which flowed behind her as she swept into the hallway. Her striped familiar followed close behind, both of them crackling with magical energy.

Baron Taimon stretched his neck, loosened his shoulders and fell into stance at the top of the stairs beside Warlis. He paused for a moment, and then a moment longer. "Where did you come from?" He asked to the wiry stranger with the hunting knife standing beside him.

"I'm with him," replied Warlis quickly, avoiding eye contact.

"The hells you are," Prag whispered, as he was trying to hear what might be going on downstairs. "You're about as useful as a sword made of manure right now. Get the hells out of the way and let someone competent take your place before you get yourself killed."

"Didn't we shoot you last week?" Cariolta interrupted.

"Did you?" Replied the nervous thief. "Not to worry, I won't let it ruin our friendship."

"Move!" said Prag again, as the thief continued to occupy a key point in their front line. "You can talk the gremlins to death just as well from the back."

Warlis slunk back and joined the three women, one of which immediately took his place, which only served to increase the insult.

The Baron, now flanked by Prag and Cariolta began to speak crisply as he advanced down the wide flight of stairs. "Prag. I hereby charge you with the protection of the princess and her companions." He continued to speak as he shoved a well-stuffed purse into Prag's hands.

"If I refuse?" Prag mused.

"Then I'll kill you here and now." The Baron was cold and focused on his advance. "I'll double what's in that bag if I somehow survive this night."

As they neared the bottom of the stairs they found that Kazé had already engaged the enemy. He was growling and panting heavily. Three ravids were laid out, shredded at his feet and more than a dozen others encircled him waiting for an opening. The fighters at the front of the human line charged the ravids closest to the stairs and the battle was joined. The quick little ravids wasted no time in counter-charging. They leaped easily over the ferocious wolf and descended on the new assailants.

Prag did his best to fight off the exhausting onslaught. The creatures were too fast for Prag to land a solid hit with his shortsword. He was able to protect his vitals from the tiny daggers whipping around the tails of the beasts, but he was quickly getting covered in small cuts on his unprotected arms and they were cutting through his leather breeches relatively quickly. He knew that he could defend himself like this for some time, but he would eventually be worn down. He adopted a new strategy quickly. He took the incoming attacks square on and cut down the ravids as they recovered from their bounding assaults. The wounds were deeper and some would need stitches, but his opponents were falling and those standing were becoming much less confident in their attacks.

Once he felt that he had gained ground on the ravids swarming around the grand hall, he answered the Taimon's charge. "Very well, Baron. I accept your assignment under the following terms: For the duration of one week, starting immediately, I shall act to the best of my abilities as Bodyguard to Princess Cariolta Mendrana dur Hael, Princess Desida Kish, and High Alpha Tsukinokazé, for exactly twice the sum found in this satchel. The balance of payment is to be delivered by you and cannot be collected from any secondary parties. In the circumstance that my life be ended in the servicing of this contract, the balance of the payment is to be delivered to my only secondary agent present at this meeting, Warlis Thatchman of Antiq. Should I fail in my aforementioned duties despite due diligence I shall be required to return three-fifths of the initial payment as is laid out in the Charter of Antiq Mercenary Labour. Should I fail to perform assigned duties with due diligence, I shall be expected to pay a fine to the employer equal to one-quarter the agreed payment in addition to any penalties deemed appropriate for the resulting losses caused by my negligence by a tribunal of the four seats of Antiq."