Lane kept glancing over to Nathan as she and the two Feleke-brothers made their way across Eoforwic’s train station. Getting on and off the waggon had been tricky for Nathan, but he seemed to move easily enough with only a short spear as a walking cane. He even led his stallion himself. The weapon had a silver tip, too, since Nathan had wanted something more “versatile” than a walking stick.

Lane still wasn’t entirely sure if this was a good idea: The day that Nathan had first walked a few unsure steps on his new wooden leg, a letter from David had arrived to ask if Nathan would check on the werewolves at First Camp – once he was fit to travel, obviously. Maybe Lane shouldn’t have shown him that message, because Nathan had promptly decided that he was good to go right away.

Andrew had managed to slow him down by pointing out that they should first check on the new group of recently bitten werewolves at the Lackland Company’s headquarters. It was lucky they did that, because the company had hired someone to replace David – he was an older man who had worked as a gamekeeper all his life but was getting too old now to handle being outside in all weather all the time. Officially, he had never met a werewolf before.

So they had taken a couple of weeks to train the new guy, the three of them explaining as much about werewolves as they could. Andrew had even dragged his father out of the house to pitch in. Lane felt that they were leaving the werewolves not just in capable hands, but also the hands of someone who wouldn’t make them suffer more than necessary.

But here they finally were, on their way to First Camp.

Lane ducked her head and smiled when she noticed the half-grabbing motion Andrew made while Nathan led his horse up the ramp into the train that would take them north. He didn’t offer his help aloud, though, and Nathan didn’t ask for it.

The younger Feleke did seem relieved when they sat down in the first of the two passenger waggons. Their compartment was a lot more comfortable than Lane had expected, with nice, plush seats.

Andrew looked around and shook his head. “Bugger me,” he said. “An actual First Class.”

“Weren’t you the one who booked the tickets?” Nathan asked.

“Yeah, well – I just thought the guy at the company had a weird sense of humour. Or, you know, that First Class just meant ‘not sharing space with the life stock’. Some wooden seats at best. Who on earth takes the First Class to get to First Camp?”

“Good question. All the navvies went to the other waggon,” Lane noted.

“The navvies ride for free, if slightly less comfortably,” said a stranger who was just entering the compartment. He was followed by two more men in good suits, one middle-aged, the other younger. “Pardon me for the interruption, Madam and Sirs. Leonard Jones. I just overheard your question.”

Andrew shook the hand Jones offered. “I take it you’re an engineer for the railway then?”

“Oh, no,” Jones said. “I’m a merchant? Of Jones and Stokes Colonial Goods? Even now, we’re the best place in Eoforwic if you need something exotic for your kitchen. You never heard of us?”

His face fell a little.

“We’re not from Eoforwic,” Lane said quickly.

“Oh, of course, I should have known. Where from?”

“Deva,” Andrew said.

“Very nice. Pleased to meet you. This is my partner, Eckhart Stokes, and his son Oswin.”

“What brings you out to First Camp?” Lane asked. “Are you supplying the workers?”

“Unfortunately, we do not hold that contract, Madam. This is a pleasure-outing. We want to see the progress on the bridge and the newest changes in the land. You’re with the railway, I take it?”

The train had started to move, and they all made themselves more comfortable in their seats. Lane had a hard time not staring at the three. How much had changed at First Camp that people now went there for pleasure trips?

“We’re on our way to check on the werewolves at the camp,” Andrew took up the conversation again.

“You’re werewolf hunters.”

Stokes senior apparently had noticed their crossbows only now. All three of the merchants suddenly looked apprehensive. “I thought that was illegal these days.”

“Not quite,” Andrew said. “But there are lots of new laws and regulations, yes. We’ve been sent here by the new office in charge of all werewolf affairs – they’re still working at the name – to ensure the rules are being followed.”

“By the werewolves or the people?” the younger Stokes asked shrewedly.

“Both, actually,” Andrew said.

“So what do you do, exactly? There are a lot of contradicting rumours around the city.”

“Oh yes?” Lane asked. “What do they say?”

“Well, half the people claim you folks find new werewolves, the other half says you kill the ones who won’t side with the dukes, and the other half swears Deva now sentences all their prisoners to be bitten to make new werewolves. Except sometimes it’s volunteers, not prisoners.”

Lane didn’t comment on the three halves in that statement. “All true,” she said instead. “Well, except for the part where we kill werewolves who won’t side with the dukes.”

“What about the prisoners? Surely that can’t be true?” Stokes senior asked. “That sounds awfully daft, turning a murderer into a werewolf and expecting them not to go around killing people.”

“There are certain prisoners who’re given a choice between the bite and the rope,” Andrew said. “However, as you already guessed, no murderer is given the option. No violent criminals at all.”

“Well, there’s a relief.”

“Some other people volunteer, too,” Lane went on. “People who’re deadly ill.”

“So what do you do?” the younger Stokes asked.

“Only about half the newly bitten werewolves retain their sanity,” Andrew said. “While the other half turns into the kind of monster all the old stories warn about.”

“So is there danger at First Camp?”

“No, this is just a routine visit,” Andrew reassured the three. “As long as all the right precautions are taken, especially around full moon, there is very little danger posed by the werewolves currently working for the railway. However, if people get careless – well, we want to make sure there are no accidents.”

“Ah, a surprise inspection? Jolly good! I’ll admit, I hadn’t expected the new government to be that diligent on the matter,” Stokes senior said.

“We’re doing our best,” Andrew replied.

They didn’t ask about her, Lane wondered. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Maybe they had heard of her? Or maybe they had already dismissed her mentally as either of the brothers’ mistress – the kind polite men didn’t mention.

Half an hour later, they already reached First Camp. And boy, had things changed here in just the past four months. The most obvious change was the camp itself: The walls had been extended and it was now easily going on twice the size it had been before. The clear-felled areas were even larger.

“Looks like they’re marking fields already,” Nathan noted.

Someone had certainly started getting rid of the stumps. Some areas were marked with twigs, too.

“A little small for fields, don’t you think?” Andrew disagreed.

“May I ask when you’ve been here last?” Jones inserted himself into the conversation as Lane, Andrew, and Nathan stood around the station to stare.

“A couple of weeks before the attack at Oldstone Castle,” Lane said.

“Ah, so you probably haven’t heard.” Stokes paused importantly.

“Heard what?”

Stokes looked at his partner, who nodded.

“The camp is going to grow even further,” Stokes explained. “Apparently, the soil around here is quite good. And with the werewolves protecting it, farmers won’t have all the issues that they have with alchemical treated fields. There might be some fishing on the river as well. This is going to be a striving little town soon, with smaller villages around, and we’ll be right there from the beginning. We didn’t want to say anything, you know, in case you were competition, but we already have a running little stall, very profitable, and are in the process of building the first proper store.”

“So are those markings for farmland?” Nathan asked. “Or for other properties?”

“I’d have to see the latest plans to say for sure,” Jones said. “But from the size, I am guessing they have staked out where they’ll set up streets and houses once they do the next extension of the walls.”

“Who is claiming the land? I mean, who is selling it?” Andrew asked a question Lane had wondered about as well.

“Well, right now everything is handled by the Lackland Company. Rumour has it that the money is split between the dukes, but I cannot say how much truth there is to that. I’ve also heard that it all goes to the war effort.”

Lane turned around, away from the clearance, which frankly didn’t look very inviting right now, and along the rails running towards the bridge. It looked finished, but she thought she could see movement over there.

“How about we start with a look at the bridge before we take the horses into camp?” she asked.

“Sounds good,” Nathan said.

So they said goodbye to the three merchants for the moment – they were sure to see them around the camp – and got into the saddle.