The guard arrived a few minutes after everything was over, a full squad of guardsmen arriving ready for a fight, only to find Verdan waiting with a pile of bodies, some captives and a distraught person of interest.

“Wizard Blacke?” One of the guards asked aloud, recognising Verdan with a shocked expression.

“I suggest we take this to your headquarters. A lot has happened,” Verdan said with a tight smile. He wasn’t done with payback for tonight’s unpleasantness, not by half.

“Right, if you say so,” the guard said, sharing a concerned look with one of his companions before sending a runner off to fetch help.

-**-

They eventually made their way to the guard headquarters, one cart carrying their captives while another brought the dead. Five of the casualties in the fight had been fatal, both Sorcerers and three of the other seven people in the house, not including the cleaner.

The two carts were parked outside the headquarters’ main building in a sheltered area while some of the guards who’d come with them went to fetch the duty officer.

The man in question was a hawk-nosed guard named Sergeant Troy once they were all inside. The Sergeant was apparently in charge of the overnight shift at the moment.

“What in the abyss is going on here?” The Sergeant demanded, pointing at the uniform-clad captives. “Somebody release those people at once!”

“Stop, these people aren’t real guards,” Verdan said sharply, noticing that none of the guards who’d come with them tried to do as the Sergeant asked. “They are imposters; they tried to kill me earlier.”

“That is yet to be determined; release them and hand over your weapons,” Sergeant Troy demanded, lifting his chin to meet Verdan’s eyes defiantly.

“No,” Verdan said simply, shaking his head in disbelief at the Sergeant’s behaviour. “They are staying there, and you’re not taking our weapons. I would advise against trying to force the issue; I lack the patience for this idiocy tonight.”

The Sergeant paled a little, his eyes flicking between Verdan and the prisoners with nervous energy. “You say they attacked you, but what proof do you have?”

“What proof?” Verdan asked, his voice surprisingly calm as he took a step closer to the Sergeant, noticing as he did that one of the original guards to find them slipped out of the room. “The proof I have is in the damage to my home, in the hand that we had to amputate to save a comrade’s arm. The proof is in the death of one of my people!”

“All unsubstantiated claims…” The sergeant began to say before trailing off and taking a few steps back as he saw Verdan’s expression.

“Unsubstantiated,” Verdan repeated with a mirthless laugh, his Aether boiling within him as he fought down the urge to throw the Sergeant through a nearby wall.

“Verdan, calm yourself. They are not your enemy,” Blane said softly, coming up beside the Wizard to rest a hand on his shoulder. Waiting until Verdan had himself under control, Blane turned a withering gaze on the Sergeant. “You. Get out, don’t come back until someone with a brain arrives.”

The Sergeant looked as though he wanted to argue, but after a long and tense pause, he waved for the nearby guards to follow him and headed back inside.

Two guards remained outside with Verdan and the others, but they moved back to give them plenty of room, which was far more respect than the Sergeant had offered.

“Am I the only one that thought he seemed a bit anxious?” Tim asked into the tense silence that followed the Sergeant’s departure.

“Probably doesn’t want the burden of dealing with this,” Verdan said with a derisive curl of his lip.

“I don’t know, it seemed more than that,” Tim said, his brows furrowed in thought.

“We’ll know why soon enough, hopefully he comes back with either the Lieutenant or the Commander,” Verdan said, finding himself pacing back and forth as they waited.

Fortunately, they only had to wait five minutes or so until a tired-looking Commander Griffon arrived, along with the guard that had excused himself earlier.

Griffon had a rumpled look to him that made Verdan wonder if he had been pulling an all-nighter when they arrived.

“Thank you, Peters,” Griffon said once he reached them. “Head inside and see what Sergeant Troy is up to, if you would.”

“Aye, aye, Sir,” Peters said, snapping off a salute before heading into the headquarters at a quick walk.

“Right,” Griffon said, eyeing the prisoners and the dead with equal apprehension. “It seems you’ve had an eventful evening, and Peters said something about losing one of your people. My condolence, it’s never easy.”

“Thank you,” Verdan said, unwinding a little now that someone sensible was with them. “You’ll probably have had some reports on fighting near the Crea estate?”

Verdan had picked up on the habit of calling it the Crea estate despite being the owner. It just felt right and respectful.

“Not yet, but I’m meant to be off-duty. From your posture, I take it you were attacked?” Griffon asked, grimacing as Verdan nodded.

Verdan launched into a rough explanation of the evening’s events, starting with Natalia’s revelation of the source of the concoction used to mark targets for the Vespa. However, he left out the moment they’d had afterwards. That had nothing to do with any of this, and he wanted to keep Natalia out of this mess as much as he could.

“Damn it,” Griffon muttered to himself once Verdan was done, walking over to one of the carts to take a look at the captives. Oddly, he clambered up and took a closer look at one of the uniformed attackers before shaking his head. “This is a problem, as well.”

“What is?” Verdan asked, moving closer to see what the Commander was looking at.

“These uniforms, they’re not replicas or fakes, or at least, very good ones,” Griffon said quietly, pitching his voice to keep his words between the two of them. “We have a few concealed identity markers for situations just like these. I trust that you’re telling the truth; gods know you’ve no reason to make this up. I don’t recognise any of these people, but the city guard is quite large these days; these could well be real guards who’ve betrayed us.”

“That’s not ideal,” Verdan said with a grimace, not liking that possibility one bit.

“Somewhat of an understatement,” Griffon said, sharing a worried look with Verdan before clambering down from the cart. “I’ll get Silver to do a roll-call in the morning, see if anyone is missing. Failing that, we’ll see if all the uniforms are accounted for.”

“Alright, shall we leave this with you?” Verdan asked, suddenly feeling very tired and wanting nothing more than to leave this mess with someone else.

Griffon started to answer, but the door leading into the headquarters opened up, and Sergeant Troy came out once more, this time with twice as many guards as he’d had the first time.

“This is your final warning, Wizard. Let the guards you’ve taken prisoner loose!” Troy shouted, gesturing to a pair of guards who were wielding crossbows with familiar-looking bolts.

None of the guards accompanying the Sergeant looked particularly happy to be involved, and Verdan noted that none of their weapons were actually pointed anywhere near him or his people.

“Sergeant Troy, what the abyss do you think you’re doing!” Griffon bellowed, coming out from behind Verdan to accost the unfortunate Sergeant.

“Well, the guards, Sir, they’re captive!” Troy tried gamely to shift the focus back onto Verdan, but Griffon waved his words away.

“These are criminals posing as guards who attacked the Wizard in his home. They are to be locked up and questioned in the morning, understood?”

“But, Sir, the uniforms are real. The Wizard must be making it up,” the Sergeant all but pleaded as Griffon steadily approached him.

“Sergeant Troy, you are out of line!” Griffon barked, now right in front of the other man. “I’ve given you an order, and I expect it to be carried out. Now, is that understood?”

Despite his short stature, the Commander was quite intimidating at times, and Verdan could see the surrounding guards slowly edge away from the Sergeant as he took the full brunt of Griffon’s ire.

“Yes, Sir,” Troy paled, bracing to attention.

“Good. Now, take three men and get the cells ready,” Griffon said, sending Troy back inside with a few guards before turning back to Verdan. “I’ll personally make sure that everyone goes as it should here. I’ll have Lieutenant Silver stop by with a report once we know more.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Verdan said, gesturing for all his people to follow him as he turned and started the long walk back to the estate.

The Airta were all in their human form once again now, though the newcomers seemed disappointed that Verdan was giving their captives over to the guard.

Verdan was far too tired to go into the political nuances of the situation, so he left Blane and Sylvie to explain the situation.

The last of the adrenaline that had been keeping Verdan going drained out of him as they walked through the city, and he was left to dwell on what had happened.

Part of him was already whispering that he’d acted too rashly in striking back, that he should have gone to the guard and supported them rather than taking matters into his own hands.

What if he’d been wrong? What if he’d killed innocents or genuine guards?

No.

Verdan took a deep breath and did his best to crush the doubts that were plaguing him. He’d done everything he could to make his attack as surgical as possible.

A lot had happened in the two weeks or so since the assassination attempt, and Verdan was determined not to go backwards on this.

Yes, he’d killed someone, and yes, he’d done it not knowing who they were or the full situation, but really, if he were back in the Imperium and it was the same fight again, he’d still have killed Aadan.

Verdan almost missed a step as the full weight of that thought hit him.

Aadan and his people had attacked first, and even if Verdan had somehow communicated who he was to Aadan, would that have stopped him?

Even if it had, Verdan had known the soldiers he worked with. He’d fought and bled alongside them. Could he really have let the people who killed them walk away?

Verdan had been holding onto his grief for the death of his friends for a long time, but perhaps it was time to accept what had happened. Accept that he’d done the right thing.

Despite the weight of the night’s events, despite his grief and guilt at Declan’s death, Verdan still felt as though a weight had been lifted from him.