There were men working on the bridge, high up in the scaffolding. Lane didn’t envy them, but Nathan apparently did.

“Just a few months ago, I climbed up there, too,” he noted.

“I didn’t realize you wanted to become a construction worker,” Andrew said.

“Very funny. You get a great view from up there.”

Someone else had apparently made use of that – a single figure was walking their direction: Neville, one of the elders Greg had brought back. He stopped several yards away from where they halted their horses.

“Good to see you walking around,” the werewolf claimed when Nathan got out of the saddle. They left their crossbows with the horses when they walked up to greet him, but Nathan did bring his spear to lean on.

“Did the company send you after all?” Neville went on. “Took them long enough!”

“No, David wanted us to make sure you guys are doing all right.”

Neville seemed surprised by that.

“The Relentless sends his fiancée and half the family for just that? I didn’t realize we were that important to the boss.”

“We would have been here two months ago if I hadn’t gotten injured,” Nathan said. “I hope you got settled in okay?”

“Me? Hell, I was having the time of my life. All I had to do is sit around camp, eat, drink, and watch other people work.”

“What changed?” Andrew asked. “Since you’re not sitting at the camp? Any trouble with the Rot?”

“No trouble with the Rot yet. Felt something move in the distance a week ago, though, so I figured I’d better keep a closer eye on the men. Don’t wanna hear anyone say I didn’t take this seriously.”

“You felt something? Like another elder?”

Neville shook his head. He actually looked uneasy, Lane thought.

“Isn’t one of us,” he said, “but that’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“Well, what else could it be?”

Neville bit his lips. “I just don’t know. All I know is I’m really glad that it’s still Ragna up at the other camp, not this Bernadette-woman. Between Ragna at the Savre and the Morgulon at Eoforwic, I think we’ll be okay. I take it the company didn’t pass on my message?”

“No. And we’ve actually spent a lot of time at the office at Eoforwic.”

Neville sighed. “Yeah, the Captain already said that they weren’t impressed. Damn.”

He stared north-west. “All I know is that something is moving out there. It doesn’t feel anything like Pierre, so I’m fairly sure it’s not another werewolf. Is it the Rot? Can’t say. If it is, it’s got to be something huge – and by huge I mean probably bigger than what you guys fought at Oldstone Castle. Any time I think the thing is gone, it kinda stirs again. Makes me real uneasy, to tell you the truth.”

He shuddered and folded his arms across his chest. “Mind you, might not be the Rot at all,” he said. “We’ve had other magical creatures show up around here, with the Rot in retreat.”

Lane raised her eyebrows. “What kind?”

“Oh, just small stuff. Right now, the only ones you’re likely to see are some will-o’-wisps. You know, moving white lights that are only visible at night, mostly down by the river and up around the bridge? The workers also called them giddy flames and the scientists something erudite, ignis something or other, I think.”

“Yeah, we know about will-o’-wisps,” Andrew said. “They’re rare in the heartlands, but there are still some safe groves left. They shouldn’t be any trouble, though?”

“Some of the construction workers got real superstitious about them, but no, I have never seen the things do anything bad in the mountains. I mean, they don’t really do anything at all, except for vanishing when you get too close? As long as people don’t follow them it’s not a problem and the workers all seem to know that. I only had to track down a couple of scientists who chased them way too deep into the forest the other night.”

Andrew and Nathan both snorted in laughter.

“You’d think a scientist would know better than to run after will-o’-wisps,” Andrew said.

Neville shrugged. “There were some other critters,” he said. “I think I spotted a kelpie, once, but there was a lot of fog that morning, so it might have been just a cow right down at the water’s edge. The men are talking about brownies, and the farmer swears some of the butterflies we had in the fields back in autumn were something else. We haven’t seen any of them around since we got the first frost, though.”

He smiled a forced smile and went on: “So, yes, if we’re lucky it’s not the Rot at all. Might be a dragon. Something big and powerful for sure.”

“Do you know if Ragna felt it too?” Lane asked.

“Yes, she did. She even went to investigate, but it evaded her. She said it felt as if it was trying to lure her away from the camp, so she went back in a hurry.”

Lane shuddered. “Did either of you ever encounter a Rot-queen?” she asked, wishing she had taken the time earlier to press Morgulon for more information.

Neville turned away, to stare over his shoulder again.

“You just had to go there, didn’t you?” he asked after a moment. “No, I have never encountered a Rot-queen. Pierre said he only ever fought one once, back when he was almost twenty years younger.”

“So – Ragna would be able to handle one?” Lane asked.

Neville spit onto the ground. “No. Pierre says he and the rest of the pack only survived cause the Red was there to help them deal with it. He did wonder if maybe the queen might have attacked because the Red was there.”

Andrew nodded. “Okay. In that case, let’s get back to camp right away and send a message straight home. Morgulon needs to be ready to move. You’ll feel whatever it is before it comes closer, right?”

Neville grimaced and half nodded, half shook his head. “I don’t wanna promise anything,” he said. “I’m not – actually an elder, you know? If it’s powerful enough to require the Morgulon to deal with , it’s powerful enough to slip past me.”

“Fair enough,” Andrew said. “But keep an eye out. We’ll talk tonight, all right?”

They got back into the saddle and rode towards the camp. They were silent for most of the way, until Nathan asked: “Anyone who cares for a bet? Dragon or Rot-queen?”

“Rot-queen,” Andrew said promptly.

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because there’s no gold around here, nothing for a dragon to steal. So it wouldn’t have any reason to lure Ragna away to loot the camp in peace. Also, we’re not that lucky.”

“How is a dragon ‘lucky’?” Lane asked.

Both brothers turned in their saddles to stare at her.

“What?”

“Really? You wouldn’t like to see a real dragon?” Nathan asked back.

Lane stared at him. She was about to remind him how Mithras had slain the dragon that had threatened to swallow both the world and the sun, how all surviving dragons, though diminished, were creatures of unimaginable hunger, greed, and chaos, the sworn enemies of Mithras’s champions. But then she just said: “Not if it tries to roast me.”

“But then we could make David kill it and you could marry a dragon-slayer. Just think about the prestige!”

“I still agree with Andrew,” Lane said, smiling wryly. “I don’t think it’s a dragon.”

“Fine. You both owe me two silvers if it is.”

“Deal,” Andrew said.

Lane opened her mouth to tell him that she didn’t gamble, but she was interrupted.

“Milady, your lordships, if you would follow me?”

They had reached the gates of the camp. A young soldier was already waiting for them, to lead them right to the barracks where the captain had his office. He promised to take care of their horses, too.

Captain Reed was just like Lane remembered: Red-haired, freckled, only a few years older than her. He managed to both seem a little more comfortable in his own skin, a little less stiff when he bowed to greet her and then saluted the Feleke-brothers, and at the same time very nervous.

“I am very relieved to see you. I heard you already spoke to Mr. Ravier? Our elder werewolf?” he added, when they didn’t recognize the name.

“Oh, Neville, yes. We did speak to him. He said you already know about what’s going on? As much as Neville knows?”

Now it was Reed who looked confused. “Yes, I was the one who informed the company?”

“Right. We’re not here on the company’s request,” Andrew explained. “They didn’t pass on your report. We would like to send a telegram home straight away to inform the Morgulon.”

Reed exhaled. “Of course, of course.”

He yelled for an adjutant, and five minutes later, a message had gone out to the house at Brines. Andrew gave the Captain permission for future emergencies to contact them directly, too. Eventually, they all sitting back in the office and Reed wiped at his forehead before he said: “With that out of the way: if you didn’t come here about the werewolf’s warning, what has brought you out here?”

“As you are probably aware, our brother David Feleke has officially taken over responsibility for all werewolves in the country,” Andrew explained. “He simply asked us to check on the ones here.”

“I do hope there is no specific cause for concern?”

“No, David is quite happy with your reports. We are mostly passing through. We’ll move on to the other camps tomorrow to try and find someone there who will also write reports.”

“Of course. If you do not find anyone, I can dispatch some of my men to take up that duty,” Reed offered promptly.

“Thank you, we’ll keep it in mind.”

They stayed only a little longer to exchange some pleasantries before leaving the captain to his duties.

“Want to check out the pub first?” Andrew asked when they were back outside the office.

“It’s barely past noon,” Nathan pointed out.

“I know, but I think we should secure a couple of rooms before we look around, seeing how the camp is now allowing tourism.”

Captain Reed had informed them that one could now rent rooms at the pub, which meant they wouldn’t have to sleep in the barracks.

“Good point,” Lane said.

So they made their way that direction first. Four months ago, there hadn’t been anywhere to go beyond the pub, but now there were two additional “districts” to First Camp. Behind the pub was the new housing area. Many lots were still empty here or had only started on construction. More to the side of the pub was the new business district. Lane smelled fresh bread from a new bakery, and they could all see the stall of Jones and Stokes, erected right in front of the building site for the shop proper.

“First Pub” had grown, too. They now had proper stables and a small new wing with rooms for rent. They paid for two of them and space for their horses before they walked over to Jones and Stokes.

The merchants hadn’t lied about the success of their enterprise: There was a group of off-duty soldiers looking at the wares. While the stall did sell sugar and some spices and tea, the wares weren’t “colonial”. The sugar was from beets, and the spices all varieties that could be grown in Loegrion, just like the tea. The rest of the selection were useful but ordinary goods as well: A variety of sturdy clothes and boots, deer tallow to care for leathers, miscellaneous small tools, haberdashery, paper and writing implements, soaps and other washing utensils, a few trinkets.

“No coffee left, damn,” one of the soldiers grumbled.

“Alas, no more,” the guy behind the counter confirmed. “Jones and Stokes is doing all we can, but with the Valoisian barricade of Loegrian harbours, there is little hope of procuring coffee anytime soon.”

“At least he’s not trying to sell us ground and roasted acorns as if we can’t spot the difference,” another soldier muttered.

The man behind the counter looked shocked. “Why, I would never!”

Lane and the Feleke-brothers turned their backs on the stall as the soldiers made their purchases, their curiosity satisfied.

“Countess deLande! Mylords!”

Stokes senior had spotted them and was coming their direction in long strides. “Pardon me, I should have made the connection earlier! Is there anything we can offer you?”

“Thank you, Mr. Stokes,” Andrew said. “We’re all set. We’re just having a look around.”

Of course, then the merchant wanted to show them the construction of the new shop. Since they really didn’t have anything better to do until the construction workers called it a night and Neville returned to camp, they let the proud merchants show them around and join them for a late lunch, too. Nathan told the story of his and Greg’s fight against the four mad werewolves here at First Camp last summer, and the three made all the appropriate impressed noises. Afterwards they wanted to know about the battle at Oldstone Castle as well.

Lane thought Nathan would refuse. His expression grew stiff for a moment and he somewhat nervously ran a hand through the long locks of his black hair, that from a distance looked like braids but weren’t really.

“You know, I think that story should be told by the lady,” he said after a moment. “After all, it was her fiancé who saved the castle.”

Lane raised her eyebrows at him. She wanted to point out that he and David were brothers – and clearly that was more important? – but Nathan had folded his arms across his chest defensively. So she instead turned to Andrew: “I was inside for most of the fight. I’m sure it would be more interesting to hear a fist hand account from someone who was on the walls?”

Andrew rolled his eyes at her, but turned to the three merchants and told them what had happened, leaving out a lot of details about Morgulon and the birth of the cubs. He didn’t mention Nathan’s injury either, and to everyone’s relief, all three of them were tactful enough not to ask how Nathan had lost his leg.