File: Lize - Cold Weather.jpg (67 KB, 498x757)

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>>641573

Weiss is a rich man's town, a playground for pampered nobility and Ministry officials with too much time on their hands. It has history too, you learned, and close ties to the College. Weissman, one of the founders of the College, gave his name to the town and even today, it's still a common place to find Scholars – most often recovering from the arduous surgeries that mark their graduation to true Scholars. The sight of them, their heads swathed in bandages and their eyes fixed on the empty distance, haunted you all the time you were there.

On the whole, though, it wasn't a bad place to take a holiday. Better than the converted oil platform that served as a quarantine ward, in either case. The time you spent there could have been charitably described as a holiday, but you'd take Weiss over it any day. True, you did more or less the same things – sit around all day and occasionally eat something – but at least the food was better at Weiss.

All the while you were relaxing in Weiss, there was something hanging over you and Lize, a subject that neither of you wanted to discuss – the matter of a cure for her Dragon's Blood. The issue was left unresolved from the last time it came up, and perhaps that's for the best. Giant's blood, the universal panacea... what comfort is there in a lost an unobtainable cure? What proof do you even have that it would really work?

The day may come that you'll need to talk about it, and talk properly, but until then... let it rest. It's better that way.

-

The train clatters onwards, taking you back to Thar Dreyse and your home. Sitting opposite you, feigning interest in a thick book, Lize keeps glancing up, looking out the window and sneaking glimpses of your face. At several points, she starts to say something only to fall silent or make some banal remark. Then, finally, she gathers her courage together and forces the words out.

“So I gotta ask,” she begins, hesitating for a moment before charging onwards, “That letter you got. It was bad news, right? I mean, you got it and then we rushed off on holiday, so it's gotta be bad news. Hold on a minute...” Her eyes widen a little as a thought occurs to her. “You're not sick, are you? There was that quarantine thing, and...” the tension leaves her face as quickly as it had arrived, “No, wait, they never would have let you out if you were sick. Right, okay, that's fine, but...”

You're not sick, you interrupt, it's not anything like that. That letter contained official Ministry orders, summoning you to a meeting of the highest importance. That was the exact wording they used, you add, as if the Ministry seal plastered over everything wasn't enough.

“Oh,” Lize considers the issue for a moment, “So it WAS bad news.”

Pretty much, you sigh.

>>641574

“So, I gotta say, you don't sound all that surprised by this,” Lize offers after a while, “Like, if I got a letter shouting about all kinds of important business, I'd be pretty curious about what it was. You know, wondering how badly I should be worried – that kinda thing. You, though, you don't look very surprised at all.”

You're not surprised, you reply, because you've known – or suspected, at least - that this was coming for a while. It seems like a long time ago, now, but Vas warned you that something big was brewing. Now, it's finally rearing its head.

“Yeah,” nodding thoughtfully, Lize frowns to herself, “Was that all your letter said? You don't got any idea what you might be walking into?”

You've got an idea, a bitter smile touches your lips, in the vaguest possible sense. You're going to be engaging in armed manoeuvrers against a high value target. All delightfully euphemistic, you add with a hard laugh, very polite and formal. What it boils down to is simple – you're going to get in a fight, and it's likely to be a nasty one.

“Huh,” Lize pauses as another passenger lumbers past, waiting for the man to leave before continuing, “How nasty?”

Chance are you'll be going up against the White Tyrant, you murmur, that's how nasty.

“Shit,” her reply is both simple and honest, “No kidding that's bad news. You're gonna be walking – sailing, whatever – into one hell of a mess. You okay with that? I mean, aren't you worried?”

>It's fine, just business as usual
>Sure I'm worried, but I promised Vas that I'd help him. I won't go back on my word
>Worried? I'm looking forwards to it
>Other

>>641577
>Other
Smuggle dakimakura everyday

>>641577
>>Sure I'm worried, but I promised Vas that I'd help him. I won't go back on my word
"Still, it does feel like I'm some soldier instead of a hunter."

>>641577
>>Worried? I'm looking forwards to it
>and I promised Vas that I'd help him. I won't go back on my word
Nice to have ya back Moloch.

>>641577
>A little worried, I don't relish the idea of going into a potential warzone. But I'm also looking forwards to it in a way. Might have a shot of getting payback at that witch that sabotaged Vas' ship if she is still working with the Tyrant.

>>641577
>>Worried? I'm looking forwards to it

>>641577
seconding >>641589

>>641577
>Sure I'm worried, but I promised Vas that I'd help him. I won't go back on my word

You're a little worried, you admit, you're not afraid to say that. This is a little bit outside your area of expertise after all – more like work for a soldier than a Hunter – but you promised Vas that you'd help him with this. You're not about to go back on your word, not because of a little danger.

“Yeah, it's kinda weird – there was a bunch of fuss about training people to fight while you were away, but it was all aimed at, like, regular folk. Not Hunters or Ministry people,” Lize frowns, as if a dire thought had just occurred to her, “Like, they were trying to gather expendable people, the kind of folks that wouldn't be missed too much. Doesn't really strike me as a good sign, you know?”

Yeah, you agree, you know what she means. It sounds like whoever is behind these “manoeuvrers” isn't expecting things to go down without some pretty heavy casualties. You're going to be walking – sailing, you correct yourself with a faint smile – into a warzone, and you don't relish the idea. That said, it's not without its advantages. In a strange kind of way, you're even looking forwards to it.

“What?” the girl's eyes widen with surprise as she takes in your words, “C'mon, was going on holiday with me really that bad?”

It's not that, you laugh, it's... more of a personal thing. You might have a chance of getting some payback this way, revenge against the witch that brought down Vas' ship. She might be working with the White Tyrant, according to what you've heard, and this could be your chance to even the score. It's not just revenge, of course, it's a matter of making the world a safer place. This witch, Hebona... she's dangerous, maybe just as dangerous as the White Tyrant himself. So, if it means getting a chance to settle things with her – yes, you nod, you're looking forwards to it.

“Hah, well. Remind me not to piss you off!” Lize laughs, sighs, and then concedes the point, “Yeah, I guess you're right – it's dirty work, but someone's gotta do it. Kinda sucks that it's coming so soon, but you can't have everything. We had a few days, and maybe we'll get a few more when all this is over and done with.”

It'll all be over within a few weeks, you tell her with an easy shrug, and most of that will be travel time.

“Yeah, nothing to worry about,” the girl nods eagerly, quick to accept your answer, “They've been planning this for a while, right? So I reckon they've got everything under control. It's just a matter of going up there and getting the job done!”

Oh, how you wish that either of you really believed that.

[1/2]

>>641636

Strange, how alien the streets of Thar Dreyse seem after only a few days away. Then again, you barely had the chance to adjust to them after returning from the north before you were away again, and it seems like you'll be leaving soon enough. Your home might be here, but it seems like you barely have a chance to use it these days.

Not that it bothers you all that much. It's just an apartment, a box with some furniture in it. Your real home is wherever the work takes you.

Walking through the grey streets, your eye occasionally catches a torn poster calling for recruits and volunteers. Take up arms in defence of the Free States, the posters cry out. As if the message wasn't clear enough, they all show the same thing – a bold, rugged hero holding back a tide of barbarian warriors, draped in animal pelts and waving crude weapons. The imagery is so laughable that it borders on the surreal, but it has enough visceral power that, no doubt, people would fall for it. Who doesn't want to be a hero?

Still, you've got to wonder what Alyssia must think about the depictions of her people. It's hardly a sensitive portrayal, after all. Shaking your head is resigned amusement, you look away from the posters and head back to your apartment.

-

Only one letter waits for you, and it's not a bill – a rare pleasure. It's a short note from Vas, mentioning that he's back in town. Presumably, he's here for the same reason you are, to get his orders in person.

“So, like, when is this meeting thing?” Lize asks as you're heading upstairs, “Soon? It must be soon, if we came rushing back.”

The meeting is in two days time, you tell her, but you didn't want to risk missing it. Trains can always be delayed or halted.

“Yeah, someone could drag a dead cow onto the lines,” she rolls her eyes, “What a bloody mess that was...”

Anyway, the point is that you've got a few days before anything happens. You're a little curious, though, to see if any information has leaked out about this. It might be unreliable gossip, but at least it'll give you something to think about.

>Visit Vas. He's always got his ear to the ground
>See if Iosefka has heard anything – she's good with gossip
>There's no point in speculation, just wait and see what the meeting is about (Time skip)
>Other

>>641661
>See if Iosefka has heard anything – she's good with gossip
I figure we can talk to Vas when we meet up for the mission.

>>641661
>See if Iosefka has heard anything – she's good with gossip

>>641661
>“What a bloody mess that was...”
D-did Lize just make a pun?

>>641661
>See if Iosefka has heard anything – she's good with gossip
That other Anon makes a good point.

>>641661
it'd take too long to make a trip back to that tree, then.

>See if Iosefka has heard anything – she's good with gossip
maybe she's heard of more of these special trees from her regulars.

>>641661
>>See if Iosefka has heard anything – she's good with gossip

>Sorry about this, but I don't think I can continue today. I've run into some pretty bad health problems, and I'm in too much pain to really think. With a little luck, I can get back to writing, but this may have to wait until tomorrow. I apologise again for this

>>641750
Shit man. Don't worry about it. Go get better.

>>641750
Take care of yourself, Moloch

>>641750
>read Twitter
Jesus Christ Moloch take care.

>>641750
Get better soon!

>>641750
Dammit. Please don't go Crusty on us.

>>641661
>See if Iosefka has heard anything – she's good with gossip

>>641754
This, health comes first Moloch. Take care man.

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You'll start with a trip to Iosefka's bar, you decide, to see if she's heard anything. She's always proven a reliable source of information before – she gets a lot of Ministry types in, drinking away their salaries and wagging their tongues – so if any information has leaked out, she'll be the one to know about it.

Of course, you could get a few drinks of your own while you're there, but that's just a nice bonus. Nothing else. When you mention your plans to Lize, she scowls and shakes her head.

“No point in me coming along, I wager,” she remarks, “I'll stay here and unpack my things. Anyway, I don't want to be complicit in any dodgy dealings – this war stuff is supposed to be a big secret, right?”

Well, you admit, technically.

“There you go then, looks like I'm better off not knowing,” nodding victoriously, Lize smiles faintly, “Jokes aside, you go ahead. I was thinking of taking a nap. Travelling always tires me out a little, you know? Go on, I'll keep an eye out here.”

She'll keep an eye out while she's taking a nap? Quite an impressive feat, you remark.

“Oh, funny,” rolling her eyes again, Lize waves you away. Still, as you head out, you notice a fond smile touching her lips.

-

The Medicine Melancholy is exactly how you remember it, and it's only when you step through its doors that you really feel like you've come home. A single day – hell, a single hour – might have passed since you were last here, for how much it's changed. Iosefka is behind the bar, polishing a glass to a mirror sheen, while her assistant is up on stage, plucking the strings of some archaic instrument. Surreptitious bands of gloomy souls huddle around tables and mutter to each other, sparing you the briefest of glances before returning to their conversations.

All in all, a normal scene. A familiar scene.

“Hello stranger,” Iosefka says, with a typically crooked smile, “Always nice to see a new face in here. Welcome to my humble bar!”

Come on, you groan, you weren't away that long.

“No, I suppose not,” shrugging, she examines her glass and sets it on a shelf. Taking out a bottle, she pours out a pair of drinks. “Cheers,” she says, as you tap your glasses together, “I wager you'll not be sticking around for too long. Call it a gut feeling.”

A gut feeling, you ask, or insider information?

“Bit of column A, bit of column B...” flashing you a sly smile, Iosefka darts away from revealing too much of anything, “Of course, I'm just a bartender – I wouldn't know anything about such things. I wouldn't know a single thing about what might possibly be happening up north in the near future.”

Of course not, you deadpan, perish the thought.

“Still,” she purrs, “I hear things, now and again.”

[1/3]

>>641907

“It got real busy in here a few days ago,” Iosefka announces suddenly, breaking a moment of cautious silence, “Had a rowdy bunch of guys taking up some of the tables, all cheering and patting each other on the back. All that fuss, it certainly kept things nice and lively around here. At first, I thought they were just celebrating the end of the storm – everyone getting through it in one piece, that kind of thing.”

But it wasn't that, you guess, was it?

“A little bird told me as much,” with another sly smile, Iosefka looks fondly over to her young assistant, “It's always good to have another pair of ears around, wouldn't you say?”

How many times have you seen that little assistant passing, unseen, through the crowded bar? All the while, had she been listening in to everything around her, coyly gathering secrets like a squirrel gathering nuts? Something of your thoughts must show on your face, for Iosefka laughs aloud.

“Don't get paranoid on me, Henryk. You've got nothing to worry about,” chuckling, Iosefka sips her drink, “No, they were ship builders, if you can believe that, and very rich ones. Apparently, they finally finished a very long running project – refitting and restoring three old vessels. Like no job they had before, or so they said.”

Really, you ask, what was different?

“These were no whaling vessels or transport ships,” Iosefka shakes her head, “They were being fitted out for battle. Thick steel armour, and guns – massive ones, the kind that could blast a building to rubble in a single volley.” Her smile fades, replaced by a slow grimace. “World's changing, Henryk, and I don't like the way it's going. Calling for so many soldiers was bad enough, but this... the Ministry is playing with things that they can't undo.”

The shift in her tone – from gently mocking to sombre – takes you by surprise. Then again, should it? She was a doctor, she's seen her fair share of violence and death already. Open war, whether it's with the north or the south, will only bring about more bloodshed.

“Anyway, never mind what this old lady says,” leaning back, Iosefka forces a more casual expression onto her face, “Maybe you can answer me something. I heard a pair of interesting names, and I wondered if you knew either of them. One of them was a little familiar, but the other... I had no clue.”

Alright, you reply slowly, what were these names?

“The first one was Yvette Saive. Now, I know that Saive is the name of an old noble family, but that's all I know. They can't be a particularly famous lineage, or I'd be able to tell you more,” Iosefka shrugs, “The other one was Berdan Loch. Either of those ring a bell?”

Can't say they do, you reply.

“Wasn't expecting much,” she waves the issue off, “Never mind, then.”

[2/3]

>>641910

With nothing else to do, and seeking something to occupy her restless hands, Iosefka takes out a rag and starts to wipe down the bar. “Saw your girl just before the storms hit,” she says casually, “She make it through okay?”

Wasn't exactly a walk in the park, you reply, but she made it.

“I thought she might, somehow,” Iosefka pauses, and looks up from the scarred bar, “Hey, you probably wouldn't have heard the news. Pretty much on the last day of the storm, just as it was dying down, there was some kind of explosion over in the College. Someone must have been playing with their toys, and... boom. Damn foolish, if you ask me – something like that happens in the middle of a storm, you're not gonna have anyone coming to help you. I mean, they only found out that the guy died afterwards, once the worst of it had passed.”

Playing around with volatile stuff during a storm, you grunt, that sure sounds like a Scholar. Who was it, anyway? You don't really expect to recognise the name, but it seems polite to ask.

“Ah, there's a bit of uncertainty about that,” Iosefka's eyes light up, as if the thought of a scandal has her full attention, “The body was in a pretty rough shape – not surprising, considering. Still, they were quick enough to release the name. He was a pretty important guy, actually. Ah... Wehrlain, I think it was.”

You nearly drop your glass. Wehrlain, you repeat, he's dead?

“Blown to bits, if you believe some of the more tawdry gossip,” shrugging again, Iosefka drops the rag down, “But, well, at least he doesn't have to worry about getting old. That's something, right?”

It's certainly something, you agree numbly, whether it's something good or bad...

“Anyway, I reckon that's about all I've heard. You're all caught up with the latest news,” Iosefka reaches over to fill your glass again, but you cover it with a hand, “Anything else you wanted to know?”

>No, but thanks. I owe you for this
>There was something I wanted to ask you about... (Write in)
>Other

>>641912
>No, but thanks. I owe you for this

>>641912
>>There was something I wanted to ask you about... (Write in)
"Anyone suddenly in a nice seat of power now that Wehrlain is dead over at the College?"

>No, but thanks. I owe you for this
>Other
"Vas is doing alright. I remember you asking after him the last time I was here. Did a whale hunt together up north before I went on my little trip."

>>641912
>No, but thanks. I owe you for this

"A bit of uncertainty" she says... I bet Wehrlain is alive and well in some secret governmental lab. Genius inventors don't just turn up dead with a hard to identify corpse.

>>641912
>No, but thanks. I owe you for this

>>641947
Good point. Didn't the Red Eye guy we turned in 'die' like that too?

>>641912
>No, but thanks. I owe you for this

Silent, you think hard on the timings involved. Wehrlain left Port Steyr before you, on a smaller and faster ship. Even with the storm bearing down, he would have reached the Free States in good time. Would he have had time to arrive and immediately return to his experiments, considering his legal troubles? If the guards were somehow paid off, bribed into releasing him, perhaps... but it all seems a little too convenient. An attempt on his life, perhaps.

With Wehrlain dead, you mention slowly, that would open up a nice position of power for someone. Has anyone in the College found themselves in a new job lately?

“Not that I've heard. As I understand it, they're leaving his position vacant for a while as a “mark of respect”. You know what that means – anyone with a chance of a promotion will be hastily planning their next moves,” Iosefka snorts contemptuously, “As soon as it's decent, we'll be seeing all kinds of scheming and backstabbing. I'm glad I never had to get involved in all that nonsense. Dealing with people who were stabbed in the front was bad enough.”

So it'll be a while before you can see who profits from Wehrlain's death, you mutter, so be it. Of course, that all assumes one thing – that he really is dead. With the last moments of the storm offering cover, it wouldn't be too hard for someone to sneak out. With a suitably ruined body left behind, nobody would be any the wiser.

And this isn't the first time a valuable scientist has died under uncertain circumstances, is it?

Paranoia again, you think with a grim smile, you might as well apply for a job at the Ministry at this rate.

-

Shaking off your dark thoughts, you give Iosefka a grateful smile. That's everything you wanted, you tell her, you really owe her for this.

“Owe me for what?” she asks, her eyes wide and innocent, “I didn't tell you anything.”

Of course, of course. Anyway, you say in a less conspiratorial voice, Vas is doing okay. She was asking about him before, as you recall. You saw him while you were up north, and you did a little whale hunting together.

“That would have put him in a good mood,” Iosefka's smile softens, “I'm glad to hear he's doing okay. The north has a way of swallowing men, making them vanish without a trace. Keep that in mind, won't you Henryk?”

You won't forget, you assure her, you never forget that.

“Good to know,” all business, she nods firmly, “Give him my regards, when you see him. Oh, and a good slap – maybe that'll remind him to write more often.”

Chuckling, you uncover your glass and let Iosefka pour in a measure of liquor. One more for the road can't hurt.

[1/2]

>>642065

With the excuses still on your lips, and Iosefka's reminder – come back whenever, she urged, for any reason – still in your ear, you emerge back out into the cold air of the streets. As soon as your face is hidden from sight, the smile falls away to reveal a grim mask – just as cold as the wind that slashes against it. That bastard Wehrlain, you think to yourself, he wouldn't die so easily.

Shaking your head, you try to force the thoughts from your mind. Dwelling on this, when you've got more pressing matters looming ahead, would be a mistake. If you're going to be dragged into a warzone, you want to have a clear head. If you die out there, in the unforgiving north, you don't want Wehrlain to be bothering your last thoughts.

Come to think of it, you can't imagine what your last thoughts would be. Artemis berating you, perhaps, scolding you for inconveniencing her with your death. That thought, at least, brings a bitter smile to your face.

-

You end up taking a long walk to clear your head, roaming down grim streets as your thoughts tug back and forth. The only splashes of colour to be seen are those damn posters, and you're sick of the sight of them before long. By the time your wanderings bring you back to your tenement block, the sun is sinking low in the sky. Your freedom is slipping away, like sand falling through your fingers. Before long, you'll be taking up arms and following orders – not as a wolf, but as an obedient hound.

So much for clearing your head. Your mind is still buzzing by the time you arrive back home, thoughts leaping back and forth between all manner of things. Pausing outside your apartment, you listen hard and hear the sound of movement, light footsteps padding across the floor. The door rattles as you let yourself in, and then you see the source of that noise.

Like someone lost in the motions of an intoxicating dance, Lize runs through the same set of moves over and over again. You recognise some aspects of a knife fighting drill, but some of the moves mixed in are less familiar. Not quite the formal duelling you've seen her practice either, although it has a passing similarity. Her eyes are closed, and a thin sheen of sweat glistens on her skin. Rapt, you watch her dance for a moment longer before reaching out a hand to catch her attention.

She twists, and for a fraction of a second she is bringing the knife up against you. Then her eyes snap open, and she forces her hand down to the ground. What starts as an unreadable expression quickly softens into guilt, and the knife tumbles from her grip.

“I'm... sorry,” she mumbles, lowering her head to stare at the floor.

[2/3]

>>642212

“I can't always control it,” she explains later, once you've both settled down again, “But I'm trying. I'm trying real hard.”

She still hasn't looked you in the eye, instead focussing on the stove as she cooks a simple meal. You've never seen someone scramble eggs with so much misplaced aggression, all of her quiet fury poured into beating the mixture in the pan. Already, you can smell something burning, but you decide against mentioning that little fact. Right now, it would only make things worse.

“I'm sorry,” she says again, finally taking the pan from the heat and slopping the blackened contents onto a place, “I never meant to... you know. Do anything. I wasn't trying to hurt you or anything.” Without looking at the plate – and, you're sure, without tasting the contents – she starts to shovel the food into her mouth, waiting for your answer like a condemned man waiting for the axe.

Really, you're not sure what to say. Leaning back in your chair, you watch her eat. You don't have much experience with nobles, or their curious blood, but seeing it in action has left you unusually restless. This, you think with a note of irony, must be how people react after seeing Hunters in action.

“C'mon,” Lize pleads, “Say something – anything!”

>No more knives, okay? Not in the apartment, at least
>Saive. Do you know the name?
>What's it like? You looked like you were in a trance
>Can I ask you something? (Write in)
>Other

>>642259
>What's it like? You looked like you were in a trance
"Is it something you can learn to control? I don't have much experience with Dragon's blood."
>Saive. Do you know the name?

>>642259
Also maybe we should get her a blunted/wooden knife for when she needs to go into her trance.

>>642259
>What's it like? You looked like you were in a trance

>>642259

>What's it like? You looked like you were in a trance
>Saive. Do you know the name?

>>642259
>>Saive. Do you know the name?
>>What's it like? You looked like you were in a trance
Ask about the other name too, Berdan Loch.

What she was going, you ask simply, what's it like? It looked like she was in a trance, totally lost to the world.

At your question, Lize finally lifts her eyes from the plate and looks directly at you. Her eyes are uncertain at first, even suspicious, but then they soften. “You're kinda close,” she begins, “It IS like being in a trance. I feel like I'm living someone else's memories, looking right back in time. I'm not me, but I'm not exactly someone else either. Like, it's... both. Neither.”

And she said she was trying to control it, you continue, but is that really possible? You don't know all that much about the Dragon's Blood – nobody really does, in fact.

“I guess there's a good reason for that,” she offers a sad smile, “If people thought we could do stuff like that – and that we have to fight, sometimes, to keep it under control – they might not take it very well. I mean, the rumours are bad enough. Noble folks, they have kind of a reputation, you know?” She shrugs aimlessly, stirring the ashen remains of her meal for a moment. “Anyway, I think I'm learning to control it. Slowly, I mean. It's like I'm seeing someone else's memories, like I said, but they're mixed with the real world. If I try really hard, I reckon it'll be more ME than HIM when I... do my thing.”

Him?

“Ifox Alkaev,” Lize says the name as though it's one she's known all her life, “My ancestor. He wasn't... human.” She laughs suddenly, as if something had just occurred to her. “Sorry,” she adds, “That's probably really weird to hear.”

You think back to the Old University, and the extensive bloodlines they had charted out. Not so weird, you tell her, you've heard stranger things before.

“Yeah?” she sounds sceptical, “Yeah, I guess so. You're probably right. Hey, look, what are we going to do about... this?”

First thing tomorrow, you tell her, she needs to buy herself a wooden knife – a blunt thing, the kind used in training. That's what she's doing, isn't it? It'll be a lot safer with a wooden knife in her hands.

“Maybe,” she nods, “But it might give you one hell of a splinter.”

That's a risk you're prepared to take.

-

A while later, when the last of the uncertain atmosphere has bled away – most of it, at least – you think of a question to ask. The noblewoman that Iosefka mentioned – maybe she knows the name. When you mention it, her eyes cloud over for a moment.

“Saive. Now that's not a name I've heard in a while,” she taps a finger against her chin, “There's bad history there. They used to be a pretty big deal, that family, but... well, they blew it. They screwed up and lost it all. You want to know the whole story?”

You nod firmly, and prepare to listen.

[1/2]

>>642364

“Okay, so like I said, they used to be a big deal. Rich, powerful, influential – the whole lot. Stable as well. I mean, you almost never heard about them freaking out or dying young. You know, like folks do these days,” Lize laughs nervously, a shrill skitter of a laugh that causes you to wince, “They owned a lot of land, but pretty much all of it was up north. Way I heard it – and these things can get a bit twisted with time – they helped to build half of Port Steyr. The, uh, the new half I guess.”

You think of Port Steyr, with its ancient buildings looming overhead. Humans didn't build those, but there were other developments. Newer structures built with humans in mind – the work of the Saive family, apparently.

“Yeah, uh, and then they got ahead of themselves. They sunk a huge amount of their funds into a new fortress, thinking to turn it into a true palace. Maybe they even wanted to go independent, kings of their very own little country. Pretty dumb idea, if you ask me,” she shakes her head, “But hey, I'm just a kid. What do I know? So yeah, they were building this fortress off in the north, and just when it was half finished...”

Something terrible happened, you guess, right?

“From what I know, the locals swept in and took it for themselves. Butchered everyone they found and made it their new home. Details get real hard to find – the Saive family kinda tried to hush it up as much as they could – but it pretty much wiped out everything they had. Their fortune, their reputation, most of their damn family, all gone in a few days,” Lize sighs, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as she gathers her thoughts. “They're kind of a lesson these days, for the noble families,” she continues, “A lesson against reaching too far or taking too many risks – especially risks that hurt the family.”

Nodding slowly, you decide to try the second name. Berdan Loch, you ask, has she heard that name before?

“Nah, I don't-” the words die on Lize's lips, and she shuts her eyes tight, “No, hold up, I have heard that name before. Like, once I guess. Give me a minute, let me think about this.” Her face scrunches up as she grimaces, trying to jog her memory through sheer force of will. Whatever she's doing, it must work, for her eyes flash open – a victorious light warming them from within. “Got it!”

It, you repeat, what is... it?

“Berdan Loch. A while ago, when I was a kid, he went around trying to gather support from the noble families. He wanted us to support this proposal he had,” Lize taps a foot as she talks, “It never went anywhere, mind.”

And the proposal, you press, what was it?

“Right, right,” her smile falters, “He wanted to, uh, pacify the north. If you know what I mean.”

You can probably guess.

[2/3]

>>642427

“So yeah. I don't know anything else about him, but this Loch guy tried to get an army together. He thought that there was no way of peacefully dealing with the north – the only way we could ever make it “ours” was by wiping out the natives and bringing in our own people. Pretty extreme, if you ask me,” Lize shrugs, “I guess most people agree with me, because his proposal never got off the ground. The High Council listened to it, debated it for, like, an hour and then forgot all about it.”

They've never been fond of direct action, you tell her with a faint smile, or dramatic gestures.

“Looks like,” Lize shrugs, “Maybe it's for the best, you know?”

Maybe, you murmur. Once again, you sink into deep thought. So you've got a noblewoman whose family lost everything in the north, working with a man who wanted to see the north broken and brought to heel. This time, he set his sights a little lower – and it looks like he's getting his wish.

“So yeah, that's basically all I know,” Lize shrugs again, “You making friends again, Henryk?”

That's one way of putting it.

“Well,” she pauses, and her voice takes on a more serious note, “Be careful, okay? Noble folks, you know, they can be dangerous. If this Saive woman thinks she's gonna bring glory back to her family name, she won't hold back. Family is a big deal for them... us. Most of us, I mean. I don't know about this Loch guy either, but I got a bad feeling about him. Just... watch your back out there. Might be, the northerners could be the least of your problems.”

>Don't worry, I'll be careful. Thanks for the information
>There was something else I wanted to ask you... (Write in)
>Other

>>642494
>>Don't worry, I'll be careful. Thanks for the information

>>642494
>>Don't worry, I'll be careful. Thanks for the information

Me thinks we found the twin knights

>>642494
>Don't worry, I'll be careful. Thanks for the information

>>642494
>Don't worry, I'll be careful. Thanks for the information
"You stay safe too. Try not to delve into any beast dens."

>>642494
wew, picked a good time to wake up. Are you really feeling alright, though?

>Look, about the cure....
She deserves a day to think about it and ask questions of her own before we leave.
>Talk more about the training to control Wolf's Blood.

>Would Saive build secret rooms and such in Port Streyr? When they were still in power?

>>642532
>Are you really feeling alright, though?

>I'm feeling okay, more or less. Not totally well, but I can focus enough to write. That's enough for me.

No need to worry, you tell her, you'll be careful – on one condition.

“We're putting conditions on this now?” she groans, “On being careful?”

You'll be careful, you repeat, but only if she promises the same. No more delving into beast dens or causing trouble. The first part of that, at least, shouldn't be too difficult for her to handle. The second part, well... that's more of a work in progress.

“Right!” Lize nods, before frowning, “Wait, did you just imply that I'm a troublemaker?”

In either case, you say, you wanted to thank her for the information. That said, you still had some things you wanted to talk to her about. It might not be much fun, for either of you, but they need to be said.

“Oh boy,” the girl sighs, her joking frown taking on a more weary note, “Sure. Go ahead. No point trying to get away from this stuff. I mean, if you've got something important to say... you never know when you might next get the chance to say it, right?”

Right. First of all, a question about Port Steyr and the Saive family. When they were in power there, you ask, how likely is it that they might have built hidden and secret things? Rooms, say, or tunnels – that kind of thing.

“Huh, I wonder,” Lize considers the question for a while, “Hard to say for certain. Like, chances are that most of the people who might know about that stuff died up north. It's not impossible – that kinda stuff was fashionable for a while, secret passages and all that nonsense – but I don't know how you'd find it. Sorry for not being much help, but...”

It's enough to work with, you tell her, it's something to keep in mind. Next, you wanted to talk a little about training – specifically, your training, when you were learning to harness the Wolf's Blood. It might help her to hear a little about your own experiences. That is, if she wants to hear your old stories..

“Sure!” she leans forwards, her eyes widening a little before she forces a more neutral expression onto her face, “I mean, okay, you can tell me a few stories if you want. They better not be boring, though!”

One of the most important things you learned, you begin, was control. When your senses grow sharp, inhumanly so, it's easy to drown in the new world that is revealed. Every sound becomes a deafening roar, and every scent can be overpowering. A Hunter that can't keep themselves from becoming lost in the heightened world is useless, little better than a beast. No, worse than that – even beasts can control themselves.

“Okay. So control is good,” Lize nods, “I kinda guessed that already though.”

Quiet, you scold her, you're not finished yet.

[1/2]

>>642604

The bad news, you continue, is that there isn't an easy way to learn control. The only way to do it is to push the limits. When you were learning, you had to listen in to a single conversation in the midst of a busy street. You needed to prowl through a crowded marketplace, tracking a scent left winding between stalls and shops. You were thrown into the deep end and expected to swim.

“Shit,” Lize winces, “Was this supposed to give me confidence? Because it's not really giving me any confidence.”

What you're trying to say is, it won't be easy. It's something she needs to work hard at, and it won't happen overnight. Once she's accepted that, and accepted that it won't always go smoothly, she can really start to improve.

“Huh, okay. I mean, I just need to work hard. I can handle that,” she nods slowly, “I don't mind putting in the time. Not like I've got much better to do, right?”

And it really might take time, you warn her, it's not just a matter of training – her body might not be ready for it. A Scholar might be able to explain it better but the body changes as it grows, and the blood is no different. It grows more potent as times goes on – at least, that's what you've been told. The point is-

“I'll understand when I'm older,” a smile flashes across Lize's face, “Right?”

Close enough. Next up...

“What?” she presses as you hesitate, “C'mon, hit me with the bad news. I'm ready, I can take it.”

It's about the cure, you begin, you didn't tell her before. Now, considering what might lie ahead of you, she deserves to know everything. At the very least, you owe her the truth.

“Ah,” her face darkens, “Henryk, I get it. You couldn't find anything. I wasn't seriously expecting-”

There is a cure, you interrupt her, or rather... there was one. The old Scholars had their own research, and it all pointed to a potential cure. Something that was said to cure all ills and ailments, even tainted blood. The universal panacea, they called it. Giant's Blood.

“Giant's Blood,” Lize repeats, “You mean... those Giants? The ancient ones?”

Exactly, you nod, not exactly a common thing to see these days. The cure was lost before you could ever find it – and now she knows. You don't know much about it, but you'll answer what you can if she has any questions.

It's hard to describe the look – or rather, the numerous looks – that pass across Lize's face. Mostly, she just looks stunned, but she soon forces a look of deliberate and cheerful indifference onto her face. It's quick and convincing, but it can't quite hide the flicker of black and total grief that surfaces in her eyes.

“It's no big deal,” she lies, “Like I said, I wasn't... I wasn't expecting anything. So, you know...” Her voice trails off, and she never finishes that sentence.

[2/3]

>>642664

Later, when you're lying in bed, you find that you can't sleep. You're not the only one with that affliction, as you can hear faint footsteps again. Through in the other room, Lize paces restlessly back and forth. Occasionally, very rarely, she says something in a voice too muffled for any words to be properly heard. Her tone, from what you can make out, is flat – not angry, not upset, not really anything. The voice of someone stating a fact, and not expecting anyone to argue.

She's dealing with things in her own way, just as everyone must. That too is something you came to learn, although none of your training prepared you for it.

Tomorrow, it'll be your last day before getting your new orders. After that, you couldn't say what will happen. Maybe you'll have a while longer before leaving. Maybe you'll depart straight away. Whatever happens, the end result will be the same – you'll be heading north, she'll be staying behind.

You should do something, you think as sleep finally begins to approach, together. You might not get another chance. Perhaps it's just the weight of a melancholy night pressing down on you, but you feel a grim sense of finality approaching – as though the end is waiting just ahead of you.

The north, you recall, has a way of swallowing men whole.

>I think I'll pause things here for today. I'll pick things up tomorrow, and I can stick around for a short while in case of any questions or comments
>Sorry about the irregular posts today, I wasn't expecting to run into so many problems!

>>642694
Thanks for running Moloch. Dropping that bomb on Lize hurt pretty bad but it's better to get that out there just so she knows.

>>642716
yeah, maybe we should go buy a cake or some candy for her. take a little of the sting out. If we're lucky we'll be fighting a giant for a knight.

>>642694
Thanks for running Moloch.

The eggs were only slightly burnt at breakfast, which you took to be a good sign.

Lize was already awake – and had been so for quite some time, if the dark circles under her eyes were any indication – when you got up, and there was no sign of her dark mood from the night before. Quite the contrary, in fact. Humming along to the radio, she fixed breakfast for both of you without any hint of a complaint. Watching her work, you almost became convinced that you had dreamed up the whole conversation. That is, until she sat down opposite you and looked you in the eye.

“I've made up my mind,” she says boldly, “I'm not giving up hope. Not just yet. Remember that map you got, the one from the College? It mentioned the Giants, didn't it?”

True, you admit, an island to the far north named after them. The Garden of Giants, or something of that sort. It's not much, you warn her, hanging all her hopes on something like that...

“Something that might be a rumour, or a dead end, or a load of old bullshit – yeah, I get it,” defiance steals into her voice, just as her hand reaches up to touch the medallion at her throat, “But still – it's something I can set my sights on. Would you rather I just gave up? Anyway, you're not so different from me – you've got your own end ahead of you. Are you telling me you've meekly accepted that?”

And that, you think to yourself, is a very good point. You've got your own doom, your own curse written into the blood that flows through your veins. Even knowing that you've chosen to press forwards, even trading some of the precious years you have left for more power. All in the hope that one day, you might be able to transcend your fate. To beat it. You two might be the same, both grasping at straws, but if that's what keeps you going... so be it.

Well then, you tell Lize with a smile, you can't exactly whisk her off to the furthest reaches of the north at a moment's notice. That much is beyond you, but you could probably manage to spend the day with her... if she wanted.

“Your last day of freedom, huh?” your offer brings a smile – genuine, easy and unforced – to her face, “Well, I won't turn you down. You must not have anything better to do, after all, so it would be cruel of me to refuse!”

Never mind learning to control a blade, you shoot back, she needs to learn to watch her tongue.

“Yeah, yeah,” waving away your grumbling, Lize sets down her fork and leans forwards, “So what do you want to do today?”

Good question.

[1/3]

>>645882

In the end, you don't really do much. Frankly, when it came to thinking of something nice to do, you were lost and out of your element. Eventually, you settled on wandering the city until you either found something to do or thought of something. Not exactly exciting, but Lize had no complaints about it. Watching her follow you with the earnest enthusiasm of a child, you suspect that you could have spent all day inside, simply listening to the radio, and she would have been content with that.

Still, you walked until you got tired of wandering, and then you took a break in a small cake shop. As Lize coos over something that is more icing and cream than cake, you brood on what you've learned so far. Yvette Saive and Berdan Loch – a fine pair. Could they be the Sibling Knights? Yet, on the other side of the fight, you have the White Tyrant and his witch, Hebona. Strange, how these things work out.

“Thinking deep thoughts?” Lize asks, her voice bringing you back to reality. Glancing around, you notice that her plate is clean. Either she eats fast, or you were more out of it than you thought. Then you notice something, and you chuckle to yourself.

She's got cream on her nose, you point out.

“Oh hell,” Lize frowns, scrubbing it off with a napkin, “No matter how careful I am, I always... Ah, whatever. Anyway, you never answered my question – you were thinking about something, right?”

Sort of, you reply, you were thinking about the Saive family. They're not very well known these days, are they?

“Depends on who you ask, I guess,” Lize shrugs, checking her reflection in the shop window, “Noble folk, you know, they like to use the Saive family as a warning. Regular people though, they've pretty much forgotten the whole family. I guess they still have an ancestral manor here, and they're not totally destitute, but... well, their days as a significant power are over. This whole thing, you know what it feels like to me?”

Bad news, you guess, right?

“Well, that too,” she smiles, but her expression is strained, “No, it feels like one last throw of the dice. Death or glory. Only... they're not just gambling with their own lives, are they? If they go down, they're gonna drag a whole bunch of other people with them.”

As is so often the way, you say with a heavy sigh.

“Nobles, right?” Lize shakes her head, “More trouble than they're worth, the lot of them.”

[2/3]

>>645885

Late afternoon finds you back at your tenement, taking a ridiculously decorative envelope out of your mailbox. The paper is thick, and the ink has an uncommon lustre to it. Definitely not a normal letter. It's a fat package, as though there was another letter held within. Tucking the whole lot under your arm, you return to your apartment and slit it open. What slides out is a folded letter and a small leather wallet. A permit, you realise as you read it, granting you temporary access to the noble district. Rather useless, considering that your League papers grant you the same privilege.

“I guess maybe they're just making sure?” Lize offers, “Or maybe they sent this bunch out to everyone else who's coming.”

Must be, you decide. The letter is a schedule, instructing you to present yourself at the Saive manor no later than seven in the evening. There is to be a formal meal, a chance to converse with everyone else involved, and then finally the orders will be presented. It sounds, you remark, like a tremendous waste of time. Just give the orders and be done with it.

“It's a pride thing,” frowning, Lize leans over to skim the letter, “I guess the Saive family want to show that they can still feed their guests. If they just told you what to do before throwing you out, they'd look bad. I mean, they've got good reason to look bad, but they can't exactly admit that, can they?”

Stuff and nonsense, you repeat, but you won't complain about a chance to meet the people you'll be associating with. If you'll be fighting together, you'd like to know who you'll be rubbing shoulders with.

“There you go, look on the bright side!” punching you lightly on the shoulder, Lize chuckles, “Ah, my mother would love a chance to see inside the Saive manor, just to see what it's like. You'll have to tell me later, okay? I mean, not that I'm desperate to know or anything, I'm just... just curious, see?”

Of course, of course. Just harmless curiosity. In either case, you've got about a full day before you'll need to attend the meeting. Part of you wants to take it easy – chances are, it'll be the last time you'll have to relax for a while – but you know you should use the time wisely. Anything you've got left to sort, now is the time to do it.

>You're ready. Wait for the next day to come
>There was something you needed to do... (Write in)
>Other

>>645887
>There was something you needed to do... (Write in)
Maybe ask Alyssia if she has some ways to counter witchcraft? We may end up going against Hebona or her cadre after all.

Other than that I think we are good.

>>645887
>There was something you needed to do... (Write in)
Maybe we should try to find Vas? We might spend the time at the party chatting up folks we don't know. We're likely stocked up on things we might need like weapons and such so that probably isn't an issue.

>>645887
>There was something you needed to do... (Write in)
Read up on giants and trees. Try to find just how much of it is true, and if any Scholars have tried anything with the sap if so.

See if we can find out just what happened to those blood and finger samples we took as well. With Weirhlain "dead", that issue got slightly more concerning.

>>645907
I don't think we have the authority to look into the blood/finger samples.

Also it might be a good idea to give the Scholars and their politics a wide berth right now. I know we'll eventually get involved, things seem to be heading that way, but for now we should probably keep being a nobody Hunter in their eyes.

File: Hemwick.jpg (160 KB, 900x1434)

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Considering what you might be coming up against, Hebona and her witchcraft, it might help to speak with our own expert in such matters. Alyssia might have something to counter the other witch. It might not be much, it might not be perfect, but you'll take any edge you can get. After you're finished with your neighbour, you might see if Vas is around. With things being as they are, you might not get chance to talk with him properly before the time comes.

“Alright, that's cool,” Lize replies when you mention your plans to her, “Say hi to Alyssia for me. I'm settled here for now. My show just started.” She nods towards the radio as she says that, leaning over to make a minute adjustment to one of the dials.

Shrugging, you leave her to it and head next door. Alyssia answers at your first knock – she always does, it's almost unsettling in a way – and invites you in.

-

“It's good to see you, Henryk,” she says, a polite smile on her lips, “Can I get you something to drink? It's no trouble to make a pot of tea.”

You might not be staying long, you warn her, you just wanted to get her perspective on a few things. Business stuff, you add, if she catches your meaning.

“Ah, I think I do,” her smile falters a little, “I'll help in any way I can, of course. Ah, but can I ask... is it normal business or special business?”

Meaning, League duties or something to do with Artemis. Perhaps both, you tell her honestly, it's not quite clear yet. Suffice to say, you need to be prepared for the worst. Could be that you'll be coming up against witchcraft, in a more direct way than normal. What sort of risks should you expect, and is there anything she can do to protect against them?

“Risks? Let me see... witchcraft isn't the most direct thing. If you're worried about someone trying to harm you – directly and overtly, I mean – with magic, you shouldn't be. A man with a rifle or a blade is far more of a danger,” Alyssia moves over to her desk, carefully stepping around stacks of books and things as she does so, “Likewise, if you come face to face with a witch, the advantage will be yours. Still, there might be something here...”

So if you run into a witch that means to do you harm, you ask, the best thing to do would be-

“Just... shoot them, I suppose,” Alyssia shrugs, “It'll do the job, same as with anyone else. Or, there's something else you could try.” Pausing for a moment, she shuffles a few things back and forth on her desk then turns to face you. “You could try talking,” she suggests, “I mean, we're talking, aren't we?”

[1/2]

>>645960

It's not exactly the same thing, you point out.

“Maybe so, but I don't think violence should always be the first resort. There's a lot that can be learned from stepping back and talking things over,” tilting her head to the side, Alyssia studies your reaction, “Still, if someone's trying to kill you, that's not really something you can discuss. There's a time and a place for talking, after all.”

And there's a time and a place for violence, you agree.

“Unfortunately so. Ah, right, I knew there was something,” Alyssia snaps her fingers and takes a small amulet from inside the desk, “I made it a few days ago. Call it, ah, a little experiment. Here, have a look.”

Frowning, you take the little totem. The workmanship is impressive, thin strips of wood bent and twisted into a small circle – about the size of a large coin. Within the circle, a crude human figure is splayed out. It looks like the straw dolls, you mention, the totems that witches like so much.

“It's sort of the same thing. In theory, at least,” Alyssia looks pleased with herself, although that satisfaction is tempered with a cautious edge, “My theory is that since the more elaborate rituals and ceremonies are just decoration, a small and simple totem should do the job just as well as something larger and more grandiose. I can't promise anything, but that little thing might give you a little protection.”

In theory, you repeat, so you shouldn't rely on it?

“Oh my no,” a nervous laugh escapes the northerner, “That could be extremely dangerous. Just take it along – maybe it'll help, maybe it won't. If nothing else, it might... I mean, if another witch saw you with it...”

They might be more willing to talk peacefully, you finish, right? Or, looking at things from another angle, they might let their guard down. A small advantage, maybe, but it could be the difference between life and death.

“I never thought of it that way,” Alyssia shuffles awkwardly in place, “But, I suppose so. As a last resort, I mean. Anyway, it's small enough that it should go unnoticed – I dare say you won't get in trouble for having a little trinket in your pocket, even if someone does see it.”

She has a good point, but you don't take it just yet. You had another question to ask her, first. Does she know about the Ancient Giants, you ask, and how they were said to turn into trees?

“It's a pretty common story up north,” she nods, “But really, I've only ever heard people telling it as a story – a pretty bit of fiction. Their garden was far, far to the north – though, not so far that it was impossible to reach. Still, you know as well as anyone about the dangers that far north.”

The red moon, you mutter, you couldn't forget that if you tried.

[2/3]

>>646003
yeah, not exactly a place we can take Lize.

>>646016
We'll just have to bring a shit load of vials/jars/containers when we go up there and hope (if we find anything) whatever we find survives the trip back south.

>>646003

“You know, something occurs to me,” Alyssia says suddenly, “All the time I was growing up, I was told that the Giants could only pass into the form of a tree on that specific island – their garden. Now that I think about it, really think about it, I can't help but wonder... maybe it's more to do with the red moon in those parts. Some stories claim that it could turn men to beasts – why not turn them to trees as well?”

And if the flow of time is strange, you muse, could it potentially turn them back? Even as you say this, and against your better judgement, you feel a flare of hope rising up within you. Maybe, just maybe, there could yet be a way...

“I wouldn't rule it out,” Alyssia, you notice, is very careful not to commit to anything here, “But I can't say for sure. Really, all I can offer are folk tales and rumours. Not a solid foundation to build anything on. Sorry I can't...”

No, you interrupt, that's fine. You can't risk bringing Lize that far north – not with the red moon burning overhead – but if you brought something back... Not the first time something has been brought back from the north, you recall, Wehrlain had blood and tissue samples. If you could find out more about them, and if they were changed by the journey back, you might learn more. How would you learn about them, though?

Something to consider, you tell yourself, something for a later date.

“Well, anyway, if you do take my little amulet into the north, let me know how it works,” Alyssia asks, “Okay?”

>Sure, I'll take it along
>Sorry, I can't risk it. Even something this small could be dangerous
>I had a question to ask... (Write in)
>Other

>>646036
>>Sure, I'll take it along
I think it's a good idea.

>>646036
>>Sure, I'll take it along
Extra protection and potential avenue for diplomacy (for witches that are not that bitch Hebona)

>>646036
>>Sure, I'll take it along
>I heard things got pretty rough over here. Are you alright? Heard you found a friend in Hyde.
I can't decide if Henryk should have a smug smile here.

>>646056
Did Lize gossip about that? She might've.

>>646059
>>646056

>I'm going to assume that she did, mainly because it's more amusing this way. Essentially, Lize and Henryk both know what happened to each other while they were apart.

You've seen beasts brought to heel by witchcraft, grovelling in the dirt like obedient pets. Even if this little totem only possess a tiny fragment of that power, just enough to make something pause for a second, you won't refuse that advantage. Not only that, but the prospect of it being a bargaining chip with the northern witches... no, it's too useful to leave behind. As she said, something this small would be trivial to hide.

Sure, you tell Alyssia as you gather up the amulet and tuck it into a pocket, you'll take it along. If it helps, you'll definitely let her know about it.

“I suppose you might not get the chance if it doesn't help!” there is an attempt at levity in Alyssia's voice, but not a very convincing one, “Um, sorry, I shouldn't joke about that, should I? Uh, sorry...”

Awkward. Clearing your throat, you scrabble for some means of changing the subject and take the first thing that comes to mind... which happens to be salacious gossip. You heard things got pretty rough over here, you say quickly, is she alright? Then again, Lize mentioned that she had someone to rely on. With Hyde about, things couldn't have been that rough.

“Oh no, not rough at all. He was very-” Alyssia's mouth snaps closed, even as a dark flush fills her cheeks, “Um, I mean, ah, that is to say... we got by okay. Not totally without a hitch, I mean there were some little problems, but, ah...” As she fumbles for the right words – or, indeed, any words at all – you can't help but chuckle a little. “I think I'm going to stop talking now,” the northerner manages, a wounded dignity in her prim voice, “Before I say anything I, ah, regret. Anything else.”

You're still laughing as you thank her again, and the smile is still on your face as you leave. Pausing for a moment outside her door, you hear a muffled wail of distress – one that starts you laughing all over again.

Who says you can't have a little fun now and again?

-

Next on your list is to make contact with Vas. Even if you get the chance to speak with him tomorrow, it'll be good to have a more private conversation. What a man can discuss in the privacy of his own home and in a crowded room are two entirely different things. Both interesting in their own way, true, but neither is a replacement for the other. So, with the amulet shifting silently in your pocket, you get a coat and head out. You'll check Vas' apartment, and then ask at the Medicine.

You're not sure which is more of a home to him.

[1/2]

File: Captain Vasily.png (368 KB, 470x495)

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>>646116

Luck must be on your side, because Vas is at his apartment He answers the door a few minutes after you rap your knuckles against it, waving you in and gesturing vaguely towards an empty seat. There are, of course, plenty of those – a good sized family could all find a seat in this apartment without having to rub shoulders with each other.

“Looks like Thar Dreyse somehow survived without us,” he begins, a dry laugh escapes him, “And it'll have to fend for itself again soon enough. You got your marching orders, I suppose?”

A pretentious little invitation, you agree, like you were going to a ball.

“It might as well be. A meal? Time to mingle?” Vas snorts, “I won't pass up free food, but even I have my limits. If there are more than three forks each, I'm leaving there and then. That's a promise, Henryk, and you can take it as such.”

It occurs to you, then, that Vas might be slightly drunk.

“Interesting though, isn't it?” he says suddenly, “I've been doing a little digging, seeing what the word on the street is about this thing. A lot of rumours flying about, and most of them are bullshit. I heard a name flying about, though, and I thought that was shit as well until I got that stupid invitation. Some noble family. Heard about it?”

The Saive family, you nod, you heard. You've heard quite a lot, actually.

“More than me, then,” grimacing, Vas sticks a cigarette into his mouth and pours out two large drinks, “I got a name, and nothing else. You drop that into conversation, people tend to stop talking. Seems like they're hiding something, if you know what I mean.”

He's not wrong there, at least. The family has something of a dark past, and not much to boast about. You've heard some pretty interesting stories about the family.

“Figures. I knew you'd be doing your own digging. Never could refuse that curiosity of yours, could you?” Vas laughs, setting one glass in front of you and draining his own dry, “Go on then, spill the dirt.”

Taking your glass, you wet your throat with burning liquid and begin.

-

Slowly, taking your time to get the details correct, you tell Vas everything that Lize told you. The Saive family's history with the north, their fall from grace, and now this attempt at clawing back what was once theirs. It's pride that motivates them, you finish, and that could be trouble for everyone involved.

“Shit, this whole thing was a terrible idea,” Vas winces, “If it wasn't for the chance of getting back behind the wheel of a ship...”

He'd be doing something less dangerous?

“Yeah,” he nods bitterly, “Like shooting myself in the face.”

[2/3]

>>646036
> Red moon can turn things back maybe

Dudes. We got our athame knife out of a wonky tree.

Maybe we go back, grab some wood and sap and take it with us up north, see if it turns into blood and flesh again.

Do we really want actual Giants coming back to life?

>>646174
Yes. All of my yes. You can't take my money fast enough. Why on earth would you not want to go giant hunting?

>>646174
Yeah, we should try that. We just don't have time before the White Tyrant.

>>646188
Yeah, Garden of the Giants is probably going to be it's own separate arc. Probably late game I imagine.

>>646196
Well I mean if Liz and Alyssia are staying behind not doing anything, maybe they can grab Hyde and go get it for us.

Delegate bros.

>>646223
That'd be a tough sell.

'So I need you to find this abandoned Temple at the Southern most part of the Free States the requires to get a ride off a bunch of weird villagers that'll need a blood offering in the middle of the crossing. After you do that rip a piece of bark off the big abnormal tree in the center of the Temple and look out for murderous birds. Then bring that all the way back.'

Let's just focus on what's in front of us right now. When the opportunity to go the Garden comes up then we'll consider this again and potentially make a detour to Art's Temple.

>>646166

“Still, nothing to be done about it now,” Vas decides after a moment, his mood changing abruptly as he shrugs off the anger, “Can't exactly quit now. Do that, and I'd be a deserter – it'd be someone else shooting me in the head then. It's happened already, you know.”

What, you ask, people have tried to desert?

“Aye,” he nods, “A bunch of folks signed up for a bit of soldiering, only they decided they didn't like taking orders. The way I hear it, they thought they could put their rifles to better use robbing folks out in the wilderness. Ministry caught of them with right quick and had them put to death. No trial, nothing. Just shot them dead in the woods. Things these days, Henryk, they're getting messy. Might be, when all this is over I'll take my ship south – try my luck down in the colonies.”

The south, you point out, is full of snakes.

“Shit. Forgot about the little bastards,” Vas grunts in displeasure, “So much for that bloody plan. Anyway, what have you heard about the other half of own new bosses? Lake, or whatever his name is.”

Loch, you correct him, Berdan Loch. You don't know all that much about him, only that he's got some kind of grudge against the north. Has he heard more than that?

“Aye, I have. It'll make a nice trade, your information for mine,” Vas rubs a hand across his cheeks – his beard, you notice, could use a trim – as he thinks about where to start. “He's Ministry through and through,” he begins, “You know what that means, right?”

A paranoid psychopath, you guess, with a taste for bloodshed?

“Henryk the cynic,” snorting out a laugh, Vas shakes his head, “Got it in one. Ex-Ministry now, though – he's retired, but he still has a fair influence, fingers in all kinds of pies. These days, he styles himself as a freelance advisor. You ever seen those troops the noble families have, their private guards? Word is, Lake has a good business in teaching them to be real soldiers.”

Loch, you repeat, not Lake.

“Oh, whatever,” Vas groans, “It's all water, isn't it? Anyway, he's got a fair few friends in the Ministry – men he trained, back in the day. If nothing else, he knows his fighting. He handled training the new troops and all. Rush job, yeah, but I've heard good things.”

Despite the flippant words, there's a faint note of admiration in Vas' voice. No, not admiration – respect. A very different thing.

>Thanks for the information, Vas
>I hear he's been wanting to “pacify” the north for years
>Would you trust him, as a leader?
>I wanted to ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>>646285
>>I hear he's been wanting to “pacify” the north for years

>>646285
>I hear he's been wanting to “pacify” the north for years
"Guess he finally got his wish once the Tyrant united the tribes and gave the Ministry a single target instead of a bunch of scattered barbarians."

>Would you trust him, as a leader?
"I hope he doesn't underestimate them, thinking they are clueless barbarians or something. They are organized and dangerous along with potentially having witchcraft on their side."

>Thanks for the information, Vas

>>646285
>>I hear he's been wanting to “pacify” the north for years
>>Would you trust him, as a leader?

>>646285
>I hear he's been wanting to “pacify” the north for years
>Would you trust him, as a leader?

>>646247
Liz has already been there, Alyssia is a witch and Hyde is nearing the doom of his blood.

>>646285
>Other

Does he have any competitors or enemies in the ministry?

The way you hear it, you begin, he's been trying to “pacify” the north for years. Even tried to gather support from the noble families once, although he didn't find much success.

“Once? Try four times,” Vas shakes his head, “I did some digging, and I found no less than four proposals he took to the High Council, all with the same goal – wiping out the northern folk and claiming their land as part of the Free States. Never got much support, mind you, but he's been slowly picking up interest. I guess persistence really pays off, right?”

Sounds like the White Tyrant has done him a favour, you remark, by uniting the northern tribes and giving the Ministry a nice target to worry about. Countless scattered tribes, that's hard to deal with, but one single army – that's a different matter altogether. Still, four times... he must have been wanting this badly.

“Yeah, and you want to know the weird thing? Nobody really knows what his personal stake in this is,” Vas refills his glass, topping up yours as he does so, “He doesn't stand to profit from it – not officially, at least – and there's no revenge angle. Not like the northerners killed his family or anything. The closest I can tell is, he thinks the north might be a threat. Funny thing is, he might have been right about that all along.”

Real funny, you remark – although you're not laughing. Sighing, you move on. Would he trust Loch, you ask, as a leader?

“Well I wouldn't trust the bastard to lead from the front. He's as old as the hills,” Vas laughs, “But, from what I've learned... his men trust him. He's hard, but he's never advocated throwing lives away for no reason. I'll know for myself once I've met him, but I've heard promising things. Ask around at the Ministry, and you'll find a lot of people who respect him.”

What about people who don't respect him, you ask, does he have any rivals or enemies? Anyone who might want him to fail?

“I don't know about that, but I have heard some folks complaining about him,” Vas pauses, then corrects himself, “No, not him in particular. They don't like nobles having their own troops, and they don't like the way Lake, Loch – whatever – is working with them. It's not a personal grudge, I guess, but it's close. I never heard anyone talk about particularly hating the guy, but... might be, that's not the sort of thing you let slip in passing conversation.”

True, you admit, people have a habit of watching their tongues once they step onto dangerous ground.

[1/2]

>>646367

“Aye, well, why were you asking?” Vas frowns, taking a slow sip of his drink, “About trust and leadership and all that?”

You don't want him underestimating things, you reply, that's all. The northerners aren't ignorant barbarians – they're organised, they're dangerous, and they've got witchcraft on their side. The last thing you need is being trapped in another sinking ship.

“Yeah, I get you there. Once – or was it twice? - was bad enough,” Vas pauses, and starts to count on his fingers, “Three times, maybe? There was that one time all those years ago...”

Vas, as you recall, never had much luck with ships.

“Well, whatever. You're in luck, Henryk – I've heard that old Loch isn't one to turn down advice when he hears it. If you've got a warning to give him, he's likely to give it a fair hearing,” nodding, Vas finishes his drink, “Well, I feel like getting some fresh air, what about you? I wager we can get to the Medicine just in time for one last drink.”

Right, you say, that reminds you. Iosefka wanted you to give him a message – he should write more often. She also wanted you to give him a good slap, but you'll let that one slide.

“Huh, all the more reason to go there. She can give me that message in person,” Vas rises, smoothing down his clothes with exaggerated care, “I'd rather have her slapping me than you, friend. No offence.”

None taken, you assure him. A thought strikes you, then, as Vas is studying his reflection in the window. Iosefka might be able to do a little digging for you – she was a Scholar once, she might still have some contacts within the College. If you wanted to learn about those samples Wehrlain brought with him, she might be able to help with that. Of course, you'll end up owing her some favour or another, but... it might be worth it.

“Hey, Henryk, wake up,” Vas snaps his fingers, “The Medicine? The charming Iosefka? You coming along?”

>Sure, I wanted to have a word with her anyway
>I'm going to call it a night. Busy day tomorrow
>Other

>>646403
>Sure, I wanted to have a word with her anyway

>>646403
>Sure, I wanted to have a word with her anyway

>>646403
>>Sure, I wanted to have a word with her anyway

>>646403
>>I'm going to call it a night. Busy day tomorrow

>>646403
>>Sure, I wanted to have a word with her anyway

>>646403
>Sure, I wanted to have a word with her anyway

Sure, you tell Vas, you'll come along with him. You wanted to have a word with Iosefka anyway, so it's hardly going to take you out of your way. Besides, you don't want to miss out on a chance to see the two of them getting in a fight.

“Glad I can amuse you, Henryk,” Vas grunts, fumbling on a coat – it takes him quite some time to actually get his arms into the sleeves – and waving towards the door.

-

The cold air does a good job of bringing Vas back to his senses, and it isn't long before he can walk in a straight line once more. The approaching night is very still indeed, and you both find yourselves talking in whispers or murmurs as you walk. There was no conscious decision made, but it seemed the natural thing to do.

“Tomorrow,” Vas whispers to you, one conspirator sharing a secret with another, “I'm going early. I'm gonna hang around and keep watch. I want to see who else we're dealing with. If you feel like a spot of people watching, come and meet me. I'll be waiting at the checkpoint, the closest one to this Saive manor.”

You'll keep that in mind, you tell him, he might have a good plan there. It won't be much hardship to show up an hour early and watch the world passing you by. If you can learn a little more about your fellow soldiers, all the better.

“Course, we won't be seeing the teeming masses pouring in,” Vas chuckles bitterly, “This is a special briefing, see? Only the important people were given the engraved invitations. The common soldier, they're getting herded into a hall and fed some bullshit. Hey, you ever hear that one about mushrooms...”

Sure, you reply with a faint smile, keep them in the dark and feed them shit.

“That's the one!” judging by the loud laugh that escapes Vas' lips, he isn't quite sober yet, “Keep them in the dark and feed them shit, that's it! The old ones are the best, right Henryk?”

Sure, you agree, whatever he says.

-

“I can't slap him!” Iosefka protests, as you and Vas barge into the Medicine Melancholy, “He won't even feel a thing!”

Sorry, you tell her with a shrug, she should know as well as anyone else – once Vas starts drinking...

“Ugh,” the bartender sighs, as if this is the worst news she's had all day, “Hell with it. Sit down you two, I'll join you in a minute. My girl here can watch the bar.” She nods to her silent assistant as she says this, and the girl obediently trots over to take up positions behind the bar.

Once again, you have to question the wisdom of putting a mute – one who doesn't even look old enough to drink – in charge of a bar.

[1/2]

>>646589
How did Iosefka even fall for Vas if he's always drunk around her?

>>646652
They're close but I don't know if it's romantic. I could be being dense though.

>>646660
I'm right there with ya, don't think it's romantic.

>>646672
>>646660
Even if it's not romantic, drunk Vas doesn't seem to be a friend-attracting person.

>>646686
I dunno, he seems endearing if you have a little patience.

And considering she owns a bar she probably has a lot of it/dealt with him often enough to make friends.

>>646589

“So!” Iosefka announces later, as she pours out wine into three glasses, “A toast – to a nice trip up north, and to those staying behind in boring Thar Dreyse.”

“Cheers!” Vas taps his glass against hers, and then yours.

Cheers, you repeat. Vas might be too far gone to realise it – without the cold breeze, every drop of alcohol he drank seems to have come crashing back down over him – but the levity in Iosefka's voice is strained, forced. She's worried, even if she might not want to admit it.

“I read somewhere that it's good luck to have a toast before a long journey,” the bartender says quietly, running a finger around the rim of her glass, “I hope it's not bad luck to do it a little prematurely. I didn't know if we'd all get another chance to get together like this and raise our glasses. I think fortune can forgive us this time, wouldn't you say?”

Maybe, you reply, or maybe you'll have to get by without luck on your side. Matters of luck and fortune aside, there was something you wanted to ask her. A favour, of sorts.

“Oh? I'll be asking one in kind, of course,” Iosefka tilts her head, “But go ahead – ask.”

You wondered if she had any contacts in the College, you begin, anyone who might be able to ask a few discrete questions for you. If she doesn't, it's no big deal – you'll find another way of getting what you want – but...

“I think I can help you there,” she nods, “I've got an old classmate who likes to stop in now and again. He's a good guy, likes to shoot his mouth off though. Useful, if it's information you're after. I can't promise that he'll know what you're after, but it's worth a shot. Tell me, and I'll tell him next time he drops by.”

It's about Wehrlain, you murmur to her, or rather something he brought back from the north. Samples of blood and tissue – you want to know what happened to them, if they've been studied at all. Could be that they were lost in the lab explosion, but you need to know one way or another.

“Hmm. Interesting. Might be difficult, if they've been taken and used as part of someone's research – Scholars can be pretty private about that stuff – or it might not be. I'll see what I can do, at least,” there's a genuine curiosity in her eyes, and you know that she'll be asking a few questions of her own in time. Namely, wondering what your interest might be. “Well then,” she smiles sweetly at you, “In return... nothing major, nothing that should stress you out.”

[2/3]

>>646729

Go on then, you sigh, what is it?

Before she answers you, Iosefka glances across to Vas – he's not listening to your conversation, he's barely awake in fact. “Keep an eye on him, won't you?” she asks softly, “I'm getting old, and I don't want to start losing old friends before my time. Besides...” with what looks like a great deal of effort, she gives you a carefree smile, “My profit margin would go through the floor if Vas wasn't around. Then there's the matter of his bar tab, of course...”

Of course, you agree, that would be a problem. Well, if the fate of her bar is at stake, you've got little choice but to agree. You'll do your best to keep him safe, you tell her, but it could be rough up there. You're not going on some casual jaunt, it's going to be war – real war.

“Just... try,” Iosefka asks, “That's all I can ask.”

And that's what you'll do.

“Oh, and would you carry him home?” she adds quickly, and the solemn air vanishes in an instant, “I'd do it myself, but it's been years since I last tried. That one time... things didn't end so well for either of us.”

Never mind Berdan Loch or Yvette Saive, you think aloud, the really interesting secrets are right here.

“And secrets, they shall remain,” Iosefka chides you gently, before rising to her feet, “Time for last orders, I think. Best not to leave my girl alone for that.” Turning away, she ambles over to the bar and rings a heavy bell.

Amidst the sudden rush of drunks looking to satisfy their thirsts, you prop Vas up onto one shoulder and carry him out into the streets. He'll be fine in the morning... although he might not feel like it.

>Going to pause here for the day. It's earlier than I would have liked, but I want to do the next bit in one stretch. I'll pick this up tomorrow, and I'll stick around for a while in case anyone has any questions or comments
>Thanks for sticking around today!

>>646794
Thanks for running Moloch.

Glad you're feeling better. That couldn't have been easy considering the problem.

>>646794
Thanks for running!

Now go have that stone ultrasounded.

>>646794
Thanks for running.

Don't die from bleeding out your dick.

File: Nihilo.jpg (204 KB, 2400x1374)

204 KB JPG

Nihilo. It's been a while.

Black ice spreads out to all sides, glowing rivulets of something isn't quite water casting an uncanny light across your surroundings. Staring up at the sky like this, lying flat on your back, you can't see any of the beasts that wander about. The “pets” that Artemis has surrounded herself by – the beasts that you delivered here to her. For a long moment, you don't think about anything, you just let your eyes glaze over and watch the featureless sky shift and writhe above.

Then the loathsome parasite crawls across your leg, and the peaceful moment is broken. Kicking the little thing away in disgust, you sit upright and look around you. Artemis should be around somewhere – why else would you have woken to find yourself here?

It takes a while to spot her. She kneels on the cold ground in front of a long trail of blood. Hard to say where the blood came from – perhaps the second beast, whose head was reduced to a seeping ruin. Really, you think to yourself, does it matter where the blood came from? As you watch, Artemis reaches down to scoop up a great handful of the gore, letting it slip through her fingers. It slides off like water against an oilskin, never even so much as staining her skin red. Watching that, you feel a sudden uncertainty – a disorientating moment of confusion. For a moment, you're not even sure if this is Nihilo or a more mundane dream.

Then Artemis speaks, and you know that this is real. At least, as real as anything else that happens within this abyss.

“Henryk,” she coos, drawing out the word for a long moment, “It's been a while.”

That's what you were thinking, you reply, you were starting to think she'd forgotten all about you.

“Oh Henryk,” standing, rising and turning to face you, Artemis gives you a wide smile. It's like having some deep sea predator give you a grin, but the sight of it is still strangely welcome. “I could never forget you,” she continues, “And I assure you, I have a very long memory.”

So what was with the long silence, you ask, playing hard to get?

“Can't a girl enjoy some alone time every now and then?” Artemis looks at you with wide, innocent eyes, “But... no. There was a good reason for it. It was... difficult to reach you for a long time. You're a smart man, Henryk, can you guess why?”

Frowning, you count back the days as an idea starts to take shape in your mind. The storms, you suggest, were they getting in the way?

“Exactly so!” Artemis claps her hands together like an excited child, “The breath of the nameless gods!”

[1/2]

File: Artemis.jpg (72 KB, 540x576)

72 KB JPG

>>651889

Her grandiose proclamation seems to hang in the air for a long time after the words have left her mouth. The breath of the nameless gods, you repeat, is that how she sees the storms?

“And I have good reason to do so,” Artemis nods, “The nameless gods are inseparable from the land – the winds and snow included. All storms, all weather, is within their power. Why, then, shouldn't I see your storms as their breath? There's power in the greatest of the storms – why else would men and beasts grow restless while the winds are howling?”

You've got to admit, there's a certain logic in her words. It's long been known that violent weather can drive beasts into a frenzy, but the precise explanation for such behaviours has yet to be discovered. Perhaps beasts and madmen – those sensitive to such things – can be more easily swayed by the powers at work. As this thought occurs to you, it is quickly followed by another, darker realisation.

The storms have been getting worse lately, you remark, and Artemis is recovering her power. That's not a coincidence, is it?

“I'm not the cause, if that's what you're trying to imply,” Artemis replies, with a slight pout, “Your weather is nothing to do with me. I couldn't influence it even a tiny bit, no matter how hard I tried. However... I won't deny that there might be a connection at work here. The nameless gods are... reacting.”

They're angry, you guess, are they trying to stop you?

“No, nothing like that. You're still thinking in human terms,” shaking her head, Artemis searches for an explanation, “What you're seeing are ripples in a pond – are ripples evil? Is the water angry? Of course not, it's just a natural reaction. We're making waves, you and I!”

You believe her, and yet... a slow doubt has started to worm its way into your mind. The cause, however, remains elusive. Perhaps there's something she isn't telling you. Perhaps it's your own guilty conscience – yes, you have one of those - rearing its ugly head.

“Well, anyway, I'm glad we could speak again,” Artemis starts to take a few slow steps away, “Back to the work, I suppose. Things are going to get very interesting soon, I suspect.”

As she says this, you start to feel your grip on this world growing tenuous. Before you can slip away completely, though, you call out to her. Wait, you cry, hold on!

Your words pierce the air, and the world snaps back into focus. Looking quizzically at you, Artemis tilts her head to the side – her eyes asking a silent question of you, urging you to say what you had to say.

>It's good to see you again, that's all
>These storms, will they keep getting worse?
>Tell me about the Sibling Knights again. Refresh my memory
>I had a question to ask you... (Write in)
>Other

>>651891
>It's good to see you again, that's all
>These storms, will they keep getting worse?

>>651891
>These storms, will they keep getting worse?
>Other
"The Sibling Knights. How will I be able to tell they are the ones I'm hunting? I imagine the birthing blade will grow hot when I'm nearby, but anything else?"

>>651891
>It's good to see you again, that's all
>>These storms, will they keep getting worse?

>>651891
>These storms, will they keep getting worse?
>Tell me about the Sibling Knights again. Refresh my memory

>>651891
>The Giants, can their sap be returned to blood?

>>651891
>Was that tree in your temple a giant or something else?

These storms that are haunting your world, you ask the goddess, will they keep getting worse or more frequent?

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I can't give you a certain answer. If we are to think of these storms as mere ripples, though...” she shrugs slightly, “Those pass in time, do they not? They start strong, but then they fade. Perhaps this too will reach its peak before dying off.”

But she doesn't know, you murmur to yourself, not for sure.

“Such things are beyond even me,” shaking her head, Artemis adopts a more humble tone – a rare thing to hear in her voice, “But you may take solace in one thing. Never, at any point in this world's history, was there a time when the storms raged without interruption. If things are to get worse, as they very well may, they will still never reach that stage. Does that ease your mind, Henryk?”

A little, you admit, but it'll be a long time before your rising disquiet is fully put to rest. The world is bigger than just you, and these storms have no mercy for the weak. Not everyone is a Hunter, capable of throwing back the beasts.

“A shame, perhaps,” Artemis muses, half to herself, “What a world that would be!”

If fortune is on your side, you think darkly, you may never have to see it for yourself. Shaking off the unwelcome subject, you ask your next question. The Sibling Knights, you begin, you'd like to hear about them again – to refresh your memory, if nothing else. How will you know them when you see them? The Birthing Blade, you presume, will grow warm when they are close – but is that all you have to go on?

“They are subtle,” Artemis warns, “Hiding within the skins of men – or women, perhaps - as they are. The Birthing Blade will guide you, but you may need to trust your own judgement. They are opposed, but also equal. One rushing in, while the other hangs back. One advances, while the other retreats. They are inescapably bound together, with a fateful conflict as the fulcrum upon which they balance.” Her eyes grow wide as she speaks, and a breathless excitement finds its way into Artemis' voice. “Let those conditions guide you. If nothing else works, look for a mark – the Sibling Knights will always bear a sign upon their bodies... or in their blood.”

A deformity, a birthmark, or some aspect of their blood. So one of them could, potentially, be a Wolf like you? Or anyone else that carries auspicious blood?

“I believe so,” she giggles to herself, “But I fear that may be a very long list indeed. Quite a lot of work, even for someone of your... efficiency.”

Too much work, you agree grimly.

[1/2]

>>651937

You wanted to ask her a few more questions, you add after a moment, about the Ancient Giants. They were said to change themselves into trees, if the old stories are to be believed. Did their blood, too, turn to sap – and if so, can it be changed back?

“The Giants... strange beings. I never did quite understand them. The Knights were boorish fools, but at least I could find some common ground with them. Their fathers, on the other hand...” Artemis gazes off into the distance as she thinks, “Strange beings. Not exactly creature of flesh and blood, but not... anything else, either. When they were awake, and walking the land, they shed red blood. When they slept, their veins hardened with sap and resin. I fear the only way to get a taste of their blood would be to wake one of them. Which is, I must say, not an impossible task.”

Your pulse quickens slightly, although you force your expression to remain carefully neutral. The Ancient Giants may yet walk, you ask, is that what she's saying?

“Well, would you be content to stay sleeping peacefully if someone tried to plant a dagger in your heart?” she asks, “They may not walk now, but they could be MADE to walk... provided you could find one of them. Elusive things, Giants.”

The best place to find one, you think, would be their garden. Unless... When you were at her temple, you tell Artemis, you saw an unusual tree. Was that a Giant once?

“That tree was... it is...” a faint look of distress flashes across Artemis' face, a certain blankness touching her eyes. Her mind, you sense, has brushed up against a total void. “It... will be?” she offers, “That tree is special, of that I have no doubt, but it was never a giant. That, Henryk, I can promise you.”

Worth a try, at least. Shaking your head with a rueful smile, you meet her eyes. Just one last thing, you tell her.

“My, Henryk, you are feeling talkative today,” the smile that reaches her lips is still tainted by uncertainty, “What is it, then?”

It was good to see her again, you remark, that's all.

She laughs, and the uncertainty is burned away like morning mist.

-

You wake, and then you immediately regret the decision to do so. Hard bands of pain clamp around your temples as you sit up and look around your bedroom. You don't remember going to be, and you're still fully dressed from the night before. Slowly, as you force your tender mind to focus, you start to pluck scattered memories out of the abyss. You carried Vas back to his apartment, he woke up, and he offered you another drink. Of course, it would have been foolish to accept.

Of course, you had accepted it.

[2/3]

>>651971

You slept late, so while you might be hungover you are, at least, not particularly tired. Forcing down a meal you didn't really want, something light, you grunted through Lize's brave attempts at making conversation. It didn't take her long to take the hint and leave you alone, finding some solitary task to occupy herself with. With a few hours before your formal dinner – and your briefing – you start to get ready.

After a moment of hesitation, you slip the Birthing Blade into your belt, so that it lies flat against your side. The slightest change in the metal, the faintest flush of heat, and you'll notice it. The blade hides well enough, almost as if it was designed – born, perhaps - to be concealed.

With the blade at your hip, your thoughts seem to sharpen, to find new focus and purpose. The cold city air does the rest, and you almost feel human by the time the noble district draws near. At the closest checkpoint, you spot Vas – looking, you note, as healthy as ever.

-

“You'll be in good company today, my friend,” he murmurs to you, as you approach him, “Not the usual crowd you might see around here.”

And what, you ask, is that supposed to mean?

“It means, you're not the first wolf I've seen prowling around. I counted two other Hunters passing by, and those are just the ones using this gate. Strange to see so many, wouldn't you say?” Vas rubs his beard and, just for one moment, you see a sickly cast to his features. Not so healthy after all. “No idea what it might be about?” he asks, “No Hunter gossip to share?”

>Nothing I've heard about. Let's head in and see for ourselves
>I bet you've got a theory. Want to share it?
>So you've seen Hunters here. Anyone else?
>Mind telling me something? (Write in)
>Other

>>651995
>>So you've seen Hunters here. Anyone else?
>I bet you've got a theory. Want to share it?

> Let's head in and see for ourselves

>>651995
>I bet you've got a theory. Want to share it?
>>So you've seen Hunters here. Anyone else?

>>651995
>>I bet you've got a theory. Want to share it?

>>651995
>So you've seen Hunters here. Anyone else?

You're pretty sure that he'll have a theory of his own about this, you reply, anything he feels like sharing?

“Well, I did have a few ideas,” Vas admits, “The first, and most obvious answer – Hunters kill beasts, and the north is thick with the bastards. Easiest way to deal with them is to take a couple of Hunters along to handle the inhuman dangers. Simple, right?”

Too simple, you argue, they could have just gone through normal protocol if they needed some beasts slain. This strikes you as something secret, and probably nothing good.

“Actually, I'd have to agree with you there. I think there's something else going on here. But what, though?” Vas takes out a box of cigarettes, then reconsiders and tucks them back inside his jacket, “You Hunters are good wilderness types. Maybe you're being brought along as guides? If that's the case, this little “expedition” is likely going into the woods.”

Guides. The idea, you think, has credit. A Hunter could lead many men through enemy territory, avoiding unnecessary conflicts along the way. Too much work for a single wolf, perhaps, but once the task was divided up between three or more...

“Idle speculation, in any case,” waving a hand through the air, Vas dismisses the issue, “I needed to think about something to pass the time, after all! Not much else exciting going on around here.”

You were about to ask about that. He's seen Hunters, but was there anything else that caught his eye?

“It's mostly been servant types coming in and out. Preparing food, I expect, for this farcical meal we'll be wasting our time with. Other than that, I've seen a good number of Ministry men coming in – and not coming out again,” again, Vas reaches for his cigarettes and again, he reconsiders, “So we've got Hunters and Ministry agents. No Scholars, mind you, but I wasn't expecting any. This is all a little too direct for their type.”

You won't complain about that, you laugh bitterly, you could do with a break from College business. Speaking of the Ministry, though, did he see Loch coming in?

“I don't think so. I don't know his face, but all the men I saw were young. If this works out for them, it'll be the makings of their career. If it doesn't work out...” Vas lets his sentence trail off. He doesn't need to finish it – you both know what's at stake here, and what awaits failure.

Anyway, you say in an attempt at changing the subject, no point in aimless speculation. If you want the answers, you'll have to head on in and get them for yourselves.

“My thoughts exactly,” Vas winces a little as he straightens up, “Let's go and mingle.”

Death, his tone suggests, would be preferable.

[1/3]

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>>652064

The Saive manor is not much to look at from the outside. Large enough, you can't deny that, but plain in comparison with the rest of the ancestral homes around it. Some of the stonework, you note with vague interest, shows signs of recent damage. Like decorative carvings, gargoyles or statues, had been hacked off and sold for a quick handful of coin. What kind of poverty would push a family to such depths?

The kind of poverty, you answer your own question, that leaves them with nothing left to lose. Nothing except their name, and the tattered vestiges of their pride.

The troops that flank the doorway bear the Ministry seal on their sleeves rather than any family insignia – another sign of their failing fortune – and a flash of your invitation is enough to part them. What you see inside, you can't help but compare with the Alkaev manor. Everything – the rugs underfoot, the tapestries on the walls, the hanging chandeliers – looks faded and worn, stubbornly presented in defiance of the inevitable. If this house was a person, it would be an aged prizefighter – long past their peak but cloaked in false bravado.

“Get a load of this,” Vas mutters to you, nodding to a painting. It's old... or so it appears. “A modern reproduction. They probably sold the original, but got some nameless artist to daub up a copy.”

You never knew he had an eye for art, you remark, he has hidden depths.

“I know a thing or two,” he shrugs, “I got ripped off pretty bad once. Lost a good chunk of money on what I thought was a genuine treasure. A lesson like that, you don't forget in a hurry.”

Vas the art dealer, you chuckle. Nah, you just can't picture it no matter how hard you try.

“Turns out, there's a good reason for that,” Vas matches your laugh, “Live and learn, right Henryk?”

The thing about art dealing, you point out, is that he doesn't get his guts torn out if he makes a mistake. With that little comment on your lips, you enter the dining hall. It's already crowded, and a stab of warmth flares into life at your hip.

Your prey is here somewhere, you think darkly, hiding among the masses.

-

As a bell rings, announcing dinner, you let your eye wander across the room. You see a few familiar faces – you count four other Hunters among the gathered party – but most of them are new to you. An overwhelmingly male crowd, it's only natural that the rare women draw your eye. One of them is a Hunter – she gives you a cool nod when your eyes meet – but the other is clearly nobility.

Sitting at the head of the table, she could only be Yvette Saive.

[2/3]

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>>652087

You couldn't say why – perhaps it's the indolent way she sits and watches life pass by - but you take an immediately disliking to her. She has a vaguely spoiled look to her, as if the last remnants of her family fortune had been spent, wasted, on giving her an easy life. At least her eyes are sharp, with enough intelligence there that she might not be a total liability.

One thing, you've found, that reveals a lot about a person is the weapon they carry. Yvette Saive wears a sword at her hip, but it looks purely ceremonial. If that blade has ever tasted blood, you'd be very surprised.

“Henryk,” a voice drags your attention away from the noblewoman, and to the bearded man sitting opposite you, “Hell of a girl you've got.”

Confusion reigns for a moment, before you realise that the man is talking about Lize. He's a Hunter, so that must mean...

“Damien Hyde,” the man nods, “I thought you might not recognise me.”

He had hair last time, you remark, right?

“Some,” Hyde rubs a self-conscious hand across his bald scalp, “Anyway, that's ancient history now. Like I said, your girl Eliza – are you sure she doesn't have a bit of Wolf's Blood in her? Might be worth getting her tested again. These things aren't always perfectly accurate, their tests. A second opinion can't hurt.”

Maybe, you reply cautiously, but anything like that would have to wait. You're going to be pretty busy soon enough.

“Aye, you and me both,” Hyde nods, “It was last minute, but apparently they needed a replacement Hunter. Their first choice broke his leg – stupid bastard – and he gave my name for a replacement. Some luck, right?”

Sure, a laugh escapes you, some luck.

>So what have you heard about all this?
>Thanks for taking care of Eliza... and Alyssia
>Who else is here? I recognised a few faces
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
>Other

>>652117
>Thanks for taking care of Eliza... and Alyssia
Throw in a wink at Alyssia's mention.

>So what have you heard about all this?
>Who else is here? I recognised a few faces

>>652117
>So what have you heard about all this?

Should we ask him if he smells danger here? Not the human kind, but something vaguely....beasty. Might be tipping our hand too early, though.

>>652124
If there was a beasty smell around I think we'd be the first to pick up on it cause of our empowered blood. I imagine the Sibling Knights can keep their true nature cloaked somewhat.

>>652117
>>Thanks for taking care of Eliza... and Alyssia
>Throw in a wink at Alyssia's mention.
>>Who else is here? I recognised a few faces

>>652124
Also there is an off chance that one of the Wolves are one of the Siblings. I doubt it, but you may be right about tipping our hand.

“Well, gentlemen, I'll leave you to it,” Vas says, rising from his seat before the first course can be served, “I don't have much of an appetite – not for food, anyway. I'll let you talk business, I see a more tempting opportunity.” Nodding to the pair of you, he strides away to the other side of the room, snatching a pair of wine glasses from a servant as he passes. He's heading straight for the Hunter you saw, the woman, with a determined look on his face.

“Poor bastard,” Hyde shakes his head sadly, “Brave, I'll give him that, but foolish.”

Why, you ask, is she... involved with someone else?

“Ah, sure,” the other Hunter grimaces, “Let's call it that. In either case, he's not going to have much luck there. Probably best to leave them to it, though – how have you been, Henryk?”

You've been okay, you decide after a while, but not great. Can't complain too much, at least. What about him, you ask, how did the storms treat him?

“Other than a little knock on the head? I made it through,” Hyde rubs the back of his head again, and you get the feeling that it might be something of a habit for him. “Strange weather, though,” he adds, “I've never seen anything like it.”

You grimace a little at his mention of the weather, and quickly move the conversation onto new things. You wanted to thank him, you mention, for looking after Eliza... and Alyssia. When you drop your neighbour's name into the conversation, you do so in a more furtive tone, one that comes accompanied by a wink.

“Ah, you heard about that,” Hyde nods calmly, with only a very slight hesitation, “She's a good woman. A little... innocent at times, perhaps. A little naïve. A rare thing to see these days, actually.” Conversation pauses as a harried, overworked servant sets out the first course and scurries away. “Really, I should be the one thanking you,” Hyde continues, “For bringing Eliza up right. If she hadn't opened the doors to me and my people, we might not have made it through. Keeping an eye on her was just repaying my debts.”

And keeping an eye on Alyssia, you joke, was that just paying his debt as well?

“No, that was personal,” Hyde chuckles, “I'm glad I did, though.”

-

The first course was duck, perfectly cooked and served in a rich sauce. Whatever other financial failings they have, the Saive family can still stretch to a good chef. You both eat quickly – like beasts, a dark voice mutters in the back of your mind – and then launch back into more serious conversation. Earlier, you were talking about personal matters. Now, it's all business.

[1/2]

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>>652234

So, you ask as you set your fork aside, what has he heard about all this?

“Very little,” Hyde shakes his head, dark frustration surfacing on his features, “All I know is, we're heading up north. Maybe Port Steyr, maybe a little further than that. Three ships, I hear, and a hell of a lot of men. I didn't exactly get the chance to ask many questions, after all.”

Of course, you nod, he was brought in at the last minute. A spare. Didn't they give him a choice in the matter, a chance to refuse?

“Sure, they gave me the chance to turn it down,” his scowl deepens, “But they said that men could die if I did. They needed a fifth man, and I was the only one available. If I didn't sign up, it would be putting lives at risk. What am I supposed to say to that?” Hyde picks up his fork and examines it, as if judging its merit as a weapon. “We're Hunters, Henryk, it's our job to protect the people of the Free States from beasts. I've got a strange feeling, though...”

What is it, you ask, he's caught the scent of something dangerous?

“You mean there's the slightest chance that this isn't going to be dangerous?” he laughs bitterly, “No, I'm talking about people. It's not beasts I'm worried about.”

He's right to be concerned, you murmur, the northerners-

“It's not them I'm worried about,” Hyde shakes his head slightly, before carefully gesturing up and to his side. Leaning back, you throw a casual glance towards the source of his dismay. A balcony, overlooking the dining hall, with a tall figure standing sentry. Perfectly immobile, he could have been a statue if not for the vigilance in his eyes.

Has he been here all the time, you wonder, watching in silence?

“We've not been introduced,” Hyde mutters to you, “But I think he might be in charge here. Really in charge, I mean, not like the princess over there.” This time, he nods across at Yvette, his frown returning.

The mood darkens, and once again you move to change the subject. Who else, you ask, is here? You recognised a few of the faces, but you can't put names to them.

“Yeah, I guess you might not know them. Never were one to mingle, were you Henryk? I've kept touch, over the years, so I knew the others as soon as I saw them,” Hyde twists around in his seat, looking out across the dining hall. “There's Ilse Bannerman over there, and... hey, she hasn't murdered your friend yet. He must be a real charmer when he wants to be.”

Ilse Bannerman, you mutter, didn't she have a vile temper?

“Yeah, if you believe the stories, she threw a guy out a window once. Not a high window, mind, but it's the thought that counts,” Hyde chuckles, “We're a dysfunctional lot, aren't we?”

No kidding.

[2/3]

>>652304

“Anyway, who else is here? There's Stukov – there's an important family with the same name, but he's not related – over there. He's probably put on a bit of weight since you last saw him,” Hyde points to a squat barrel of a man, with a beard that puts his to shame. “Finally... oh, right. He went out for a cigarette or ten, so you might have missed him. Krebs, Radomir Krebs,” Hyde lowers his voice, turning back so he can lean across, “He's a mess these days. He's getting old, and you know what this job is like...”

Yeah, you nod grimly, it's no work for an old man. What are his chances of seeing retirement?

“Pretty damn low, if you ask me,” Hyde shakes his head, “If I was a betting man, I'd lay down some money on him finding a grave up north. Maybe that's the way he wants it.”

You're about to say something, but your words are cut off by the sound of a slap. Glancing around, you see Vas reeling back from the furious woman. He might be a good few inches taller than Ilse, but she packs a punch.

“Looks like her patience ran out faster than his persistence,” Hyde remarks, glad for the distraction.

-

After dinner, a herald announces a short break – one hour – before the briefing will commence in full. Until then, you've got free reign to meet your new allies. Glancing up at the balcony, you find it vacant. The old crow has moved on, it seems.

And then, as if your thoughts had summoned him, he emerges into the dining hall. A pair of servants – his own men, if their deference is any indication – lead the way, never straying too far from him. He walks slowly, as though his bones were as fragile as glass, but he conveys an impression of strength as well. Strength of will, even if the body confining that will is close to failing him.

Berdan Loch, you presume. Who else could it be?

-

Without dinner to provide a formal structure, the gathered crowd splits apart and divides into groups. Loch never mingles, prowling the hall like an ageing wolf. By contrast, Yvette is the centre of attention, carrying on three conversations at once. Still, it's hard to say which of the two is less happy – Loch's face has all the warmth of a skull, while Yvette's eyes occasionally betray a lingering resentment.

A charming pair. They must get along wonderfully.

>Try to speak with Loch
>Try to speak with Yvette
>Wait until the briefing
>Other

>>652375
>>Try to speak with Loch
Probably easier to get a word in with a lone wolf than the party queen.

>>652375
>Try to speak with Loch

>>652375
>>Try to speak with Loch
Can our dagger get any warmer or does it stay at one temp while near at least one of the beasts

>>652375
>>Try to speak with Loch

>>652413
I think I remember it getting really hot when we were in combat.

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Without making it look too deliberate, you start to gravitate towards Loch. Perhaps it's a coincidence, but as soon as you start to approach him he stops his prowling and waits in place. When he waves his pair of attendants away, you know that it was no coincidence. For whatever reason – and you're certain that he'll have his own reasons – he wants to talk with you, just as much as you want to talk with him.

At your hip, the Birthing Blade remains the same temperature. Warmer than normal, but far from burning hot. If Loch is a beast, then he's a subtle one. Face to face with the taller man, you're about to introduce yourself when he holds up a hand to silence you. Perhaps it's a sign of his natural authority, but you let the words fade.

“You're a Wolf, aren't you?” he asks. His voice is quiet and carefully measured, but it cuts through the background chatter like a surgeon's scalpel.

Henryk Hanson, you tell him, and he's right – you're a Hunter by both trade and blood.

“And a very good one, if I'm not mistaken,” Loch nods to himself, “I suspected as much, from the moment I saw you.”

Alright, you say calmly, he's got your attention. He's been doing his research, hasn't he?

“I didn't need to. A lifetime in service to the Ministry teaches much – the ability to get the measure of a man included,” Loch doesn't smile, of course, but his rigid posture somehow gives the same impression, “No matter. Just as I might never understand the intricacies of the Wolf's Blood, you might never understand my ways. As you may have already guess, my name is Berdan Loch.”

He doesn't offer to shake hands, and neither do you.

“I have a great deal of respect for you Hunters,” Loch continues, “Others may look down upon your trade and bloodline both, but I know better. There will always be a need for men who can do bloody deeds, be it killing beasts...”

Or men, you finish for him. You keep a neutral tone, and your face is a blank mask.

“Quite so,” he seems satisfied by your answer, and the manner in which you delivered it, “I am also one of the minds behind this operation. Again, I suspect that you already knew as much. I insisted on secrecy, while this operation was in its infancy, but I'm not so foolish as to expect absolute discretion.”

As Loch falls into an easy silence, you have a chance to consider him. He's not what you expected, and you're still not quite sure what to make of him. On the other hand, you're certain that he's got you figured out... at least, he thinks so. You've got your own secrets, after all.

The silence draws out, as if to invite questions.

>You've been pushing for this for years. May I ask why?
>The Saive family is involved in this. What do you make of them?
>I can't quite figure out how you profit from all this
>I had a question... (Write in)
>Other

>>652517
>>You've been pushing for this for years. May I ask why?
>>The Saive family is involved in this. What do you make of them?
He seems like a nice guy.

>>652517
>>You've been pushing for this for years. May I ask why?

What if the twins are both from the Saive family and the White Tyrant is a Saive that was left behind or stayed behind.

>>652517
>>You've been pushing for this for years. May I ask why?
>>The Saive family is involved in this. What do you make of them?

>>652561
Could be. Hebona could be an option too.

The only piece of the puzzle we have right now is that at least one of Siblings is in the building we are in right now.

>>652584
>The only piece of the puzzle we have right now is that at least one of Siblings is in the building we are in right now.
And its possible that it can fool the blade somewhat or we haven't talked to it, yet.

He's been pushing for this – pacifying the north – for years, you ask in a cautious voice, may you ask why?

“May I ask you, in turn, a question?” Loch lets his gaze – his eyes are as flat as painted stones – play across the room, “As a Hunter, do you make it your business to fight a pack of beasts at once?”

Never, you tell him honestly, not if it can be helped. In large numbers, beasts grow cunning – they circle their prey and strike at undefended angles. While one beast is snarling in front of you, two more will be preparing to strike from behind. That's what this is about, you realise suddenly, isn't it?

“The Free States are more fragile than people realise,” the old man explains slowly, “The north and the south... both pose a threat. It is my opinion that we could not win a war on two fronts – and, make no mistake, it would be on two fronts. As soon as one of our enemies grew bold, the other would strike our weakened back. I find this... unacceptable. The people of the southern colonies are our lessers, but they can be taught civilisation in due time. The northern barbarians, on the other hand, are simply too different to us. There can be no peace between our two societies.”

You think of Alyssia, then, and you feel doubts stirring in your mind. She learned civilisation well enough – hell, did she really need to be taught it in the first place? Loch sees the northerners as one kind, an army in the waiting, but that's far from the truth. In the alien, unforgiving north, bloodthirsty barbarians rub shoulders with their more passive neighbours, with nothing but a homeland shared between them.

You say none of this. There is nothing to be gained from ranting about the rights of the northern folk, nothing but a discrete arrest.

“I will never see the north brought into line,” Loch says suddenly, “But if I can see their Tyrant broken and torn down, I can be content with that much. Without a single, strong leader, the northerners are no real threat. An irritation, perhaps, but not a danger. With a single will uniting them, however...”

And here, you find yourself agreeing with him once again. If the north is to be left alone, the White Tyrant must die. While he yet lives, war is an inevitability. Hence this operation... and the involvement of the Saive family. What does he think about them, you ask Loch before nodding over to Yvette, what does he think about her?

[1/2]

>>652652

“An interesting situation,” Loch follows your gaze, studying Yvette for a moment, “We now look upon the entire Saive family. She is the last of the line.”

Just her, you ask in sudden confusion, no other family? No parents?

“Her parents died recently, at the start of this year. She inherited everything, what little was left of the family treasury and what remained of the family's influence. It was then that she approached me with an offer,” with neither satisfaction or frustration in his voice, with nothing that might hint at his true feelings, Loch continues, “She wished to use everything she had left to see her birthright – what she considers to be her birthright – returned to her.”

One last throw of the dice, you murmur. Of course, you say in a sharper voice, he was only too happy to accept her proposal.

“Of course,” Loch nods, apparently unconcerned by the faint accusation in your words, “This arrangement serves my purposes well. We both stand to gain from a victory here – she reclaims her birthright, and I defend my homeland. If you think that I'm manipulating her, you're welcome to ask her yourself.”

Torn for a moment, you almost march across the room to ask her, here and now. Then sanity returns, and you shrug. Neither of you are going anywhere – there will be the chance to talk with her later. Looking back to Loch, you let the issue lie... for now. Never mind her family and her influence, you ask, what does he think of her?

“Proud, selfish, impulsive...” Loch replies immediately, “And untested. When the pressure of combat weighs heavy on her shoulders, she may yet buckle. If this operation has a single weak link...”

It's her, you finish for him.

“This is a pivotal moment in history,” the old man slowly clenches a fist, “And I fear she will turn away from her duties. If her family name means anything to her, however, she won't buckle.”

And if the thought of her family name isn't enough?

“I have a trusted man in her retinue,” a grim note enters Loch's voice, the first real feeling you've heard, “Should she fail, he will relieve her of her duties and take command. I have not lived to an old age, Hunter, by taking chances. With that, however, I believe our business is concluded – there are others I must speak with.”

>Let him go, try to speak with Yvette in private
>Let him leave, wait for the briefing to commence
>Ask a few last questions... (Write in)
>Other

>>652731
>>Let him go, try to speak with Yvette in private
I suppose we should get a feel for her too. See exactly what we are dealing with.

>>652731
>>Let him go, try to speak with Yvette in private
Worth a shot.

>>652731
>>Let him go, try to speak with Yvette in private
I do hope we get to meet Artys mystery ally in the north

Nodding, you step back and let Loch return to his leisurely patrol. It takes him a while to lurch into motion once more – he reminds you, in some way, of a machine direly in need of oiling – but the display of frailty is as fleeting as it is rare. Two steps later, he pauses and looks back around at you.

“One piece of advice for you, Hunter,” he says slowly, “Do not pity her. Nobles of her ilk do not appreciate pity – it makes them feel like they've earned it, and it makes others feel like they deserve it.”

His voice is neutral, polite enough, but the pitch black cynicism in his voice brings a bitter smile to your lips. He has your thanks, you tell him, and a bit of advice in turn. The northerns, you warn him, they're not to be underestimated. The north has a way of-

“Swallowing men whole,” Loch gives you a solemn nod, “I understand that as well as anyone.”

-

Yvette Saive, when you approach her, is shrieking out the shrill laugh of a weary hostess. You don't hear the joke that caused such an outburst, but you're almost entirely sure that it wasn't that funny. When she notices you, though, a flash of relief surfaces in her eyes.

“Oh,” she says, “I saw you, earlier. You were speaking with... One moment please.” Without waiting for a reply, she turns back to the knot of parasites clinging to her – some people will take anything, even the pale shadow of reflected glory – and resumes the conversations as if she hadn't paused at all. It's hard not to feel slighted, being dismissed in such plain terms, and you have to fight back a harsh scowl.

Your hand starts to drift to the knife at your hip, and you very deliberately draw it away. One by one, the foppish guests filter away and leave the pair of you alone. Yvette grimaces at you, and then strides away. Without much else to do, you follow her into the seclusion of a private room. Something for discrete liaisons, you wonder, or just to give a weary noble a moment alone? You don't get the chance to ask – before your eyes have adjusted to the gloom, Yvette has turned to face you, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.

“Are you here to spy on me?” she asks, as if the accusation was all a big joke, “I know he has agents among my men. Those cretins I was dealing with? At least one of those was in his pay. What about you, then?”

You're just a Hunter, you tell her, here to do a job.

“Oh yes. Hunters. With five of you here, I'll never get the smell of dogs out of the carpets,” she shakes her had, “No matter. I'll have a new home soon enough.”

You disliked her on instinct, and it's good to know that your gut feelings are still accurate.

[1/2]

>>652851
>I'll never get the smell of dogs out of the carpets
We should comment that the scent of Wolves keeps the beasts away.

>>652851

She mentioned the smell of dogs, you tell her calmly, but she's not quite right. It's the smell of Wolves, and it does a damn good job of keeping the beasts away. Your words make the noblewoman pause for a moment, and you wonder if this is the first time someone has ever talked back to her. Then, she offers an expansive shrug.

“Sorry, that was terribly rude. Let's start fresh,” Yvette looks you up and down, “I am Yvette Saive, heir to the Northern Hunting Grounds. Yes, all of them – if anyone else has a claim on them, they are welcome to contest it.”

Funny, you think to yourself, it seems like the White Tyrant has more of a claim than she does. Henryk Hanson, you say aloud, if she wants a name.

“Soon, I'll have the chance to take what's mine,” she continues, as if you hadn't even spoken, “My true home, not this... this tomb. My birthright. Can you imagine what it's like, growing up knowing that your property has fallen into the hands of an unwashed rabble? It leaves a stain, my friend, a black mark on my honour. Now, at long last, I'm taking steps to washing it off.”

Looking at her now, listening to her words, you come to a depressing realisation. This volatile young woman is still grieving for her parents, and all this talk of birthrights or reclaiming the north is nothing more than a distraction. She might not realise it, but Loch is playing her for a fool.

What a mess, you think to yourself, what a damn mess.

“You don't talk much, do you?” Yvette asks suddenly, “I suppose there's not much call for it, in your line of work. Beasts don't make much very good conversation partners, I expect.”

They have their own ways of communicating, you reply in a deadpan voice, sharp words and cutting remarks mostly.

“Oh, a joke! Very good!” Yvette laughs, and this is a far cry from that awful shriek you heard before, “Not what I would have expected from one of your ilk, not at all. Now then, did you wish to tell me something?”

>I just wanted to wish you luck on the operation
>You're right, Loch does have a spy in your retinue. He'll replace you at the first sign of trouble
>The north isn't a prize worth fighting for. It's stronger than you
>I wanted to ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>>652959
>>I just wanted to wish you luck on the operation
No need to get on her bad side.

>>652959
>>I just wanted to wish you luck on the operation and warn you that having been NORTH I can say that those barbarians are more dangerous than most think.

>>652959
>>I wanted to ask you something... (Write in)
"Have you given any thought to what comes after? Say this operation goes without a hitch and we kill the White Tyrant. We are back to the regular unorganized North. Do you plan on subjugating them all? That's a tall order and I imagine this Tyrant has taught those 'rabble' a thing or too about warfare and civilization."

>>653022
>too
two*

You just wanted to wish her luck on the coming operation, you say carefully, and to give her a warning. You've been north before, you continue, many times. The times you've spent there have taught you much, but the most important lesson is simple – the northerns, the barbarians, are far more dangerous than she might suspect. They are no simple rabble - they're organised and they're motivated.

“You seem to imply that their motivation is greater than mine,” Yvette's eyes harden, “Another joke, perhaps?”

No joke, you reply simply, but something she needs to consider. Has she thought about what comes after the operation, about what she might do with her birthright returned to her? Even with the head struck from its body, the north is far from harmless. Does she have a plan to subjugate all the scattered tribes, especially now that they've learned warfare from their Tyrant?

“I am not so naïve as to presume it will be an easy task, or a quick one,” Yvette shakes her head, “But the Dragon's Blood flows through my veins – I cannot allow myself to falter or fail. You've seen this city, the masses of men looking for a place in life. Loch can shape them into soldiers, and the north can be their new home. The White Tyrant may have his armies, but in time... so will I.”

Lize told you that the Dragon's Blood can bring madness - obsessions and delusions - and now, perhaps, you're seeing it in person. Yvette believes her own words, of that you have no doubt, and simple words of your own could never break her resolve. Perhaps the first thundering cries of open warfare will be sufficient to change her mind.

“Regardless, I thank you for your warning,” Yvette smiles suddenly, and gives you a formal bow, “And should you ever wish for a place among my new household... I will have need of skilled Hunters.”

You'll keep that in mind, you tell her politely. Then, you turn and leave the madwoman to her scattered thoughts. As you leave, your hand brushes against the Birthing Blade at your hip.

It's warm. Hot, even.

-

“You look pale, Henryk,” Vas tells you later, as you cross paths with him, “Heard some bad news?”

He looks red, you shoot back as you notice the lurid mark on his cheek, did he get in a fight?

“I never realised you Hunters had such feisty women,” he grins like an idiot, “Now I'm definitely interested.”

Careful, you warn him, she threw a man out of a window once.

“Oh,” Vas pauses, “Was it a high one?”

Not really, but the intent was the same. He survived, as you recall.

“Then I'll take my chances,” the old captain says with a grin. Before you can reply – to call him an idiot, perhaps – a bell chimes. It's finally time for the briefing.

[1/2]

>>653131
>“Then I'll take my chances,”
Vas is a good man. On another note, seems like we got one of our Twin beasts pinned down.

>>653144
White tyrant is likely the other

>>653131

Compared with the dining hall, with its high ceiling and far walls, the room that Yvette guides you all through to is smaller, darker and more private. A table fills much of it, with a carefully drawn map spread out before you.

Rubbing shoulders with Vas on one side and Hyde on the other, you take your place and wait. Krebs looms in the background – a bear of a man, in more ways than one – while Stukov and Ilse lean in close to peer at the map. Loch lurks somewhere, slinking naturally through the shadows as very few men can, and the rest of the room is filled out by Ministry soldiers. The officers who will be leading the attack, you've come to understand.

When the last man has filed in, and the door is closed, Yvette takes a moment to savour the atmosphere. To savour the first seconds of her moment of triumph, you think bitterly. She looks about at the gathered soldiers, and then she speaks.

“Gentlemen,” she announces, “And, uh, lady. Ahem, I present to you... Operation Regicide!”

Not exactly the most original name, you think to yourself, but it'll do.

>I think I'll pause things here for today. I'll pick things up tomorrow, and I'll stick around in case anyone has any questions or comments
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>653171
Thanks for running Moloch. If Yvette really is the beast, what happens if Loch's spy people kill her first? Can we sabotage her so that she gets killed off by them so we don't dirty our hands?

>>653171
>Thanks for running
Y'know Moloch, the quality of your prose always astonishes me when I look back at it. Just thought you ought to know

>>653205

Technically speaking, Henryk doesn't have to kill the beasts in question for them to return to Nihilo. So, should Yvette fall through any other means, it would still "count" as a success for Henryk's purposes

>>653215

Hah, well, I enjoy writing, even if things get a little overwrought at times. I'm glad that you're enjoying it, in either case!

>>653171
Thanks for running Moloch.

>>653246
Interesting. Were the trophies mandatory or just a bonus kind of thing?

>>653131
Now we wonder who her sibling is...
dundundundundundun

>>653246
So engineering the twins to mutual kill each other would still count, even if Henryk didn't raise a finger?

>>653287
betting on the Tyrant

One male- one female
one fallen noble - one rising king
one "civilized" - one barbarian
both seeking to control the north

>>653284

Minor spoilers, I suppose: Taking a trophy is not strictly necessary. It could be seen as a ritual, in a way - traditional, but not essential. However, not even Artemis is entirely aware of this

>>653301

It would count, yes. It would certainly let us walk away with clean hands, at least.

>>653331
Supposing we're around, what kind of trophy could we take that doesn't just scream "Holy shit this came from a human, please arrest me for murder"?

>>653366

The definition of a trophy is quite broad, actually. It could be an item of jewellery, for example, or a scrap of cloth. Anything that has some kind of connection with the target. It might not have the visceral feel of a finger or an ear, but there's nothing wrong with it.

>>653428
oh that's good. I thought we'd need nail clippings, or something.

Hair would be a little too recognizable, after all.

>>653301
hmm I'm thinking the witch? but she's old so no. hmm. Both this girl and the tyrant have been very forthright, brutish almost.

>>653719
Now, I'm not saying she killed her parents for losing their honour.

Just that the Twins are supposed to have done things to deserve death by the time we get there.

I vote for the spy in her ranks being the second one as well. What better place to hide then where we would see the beast we expect to see and not look deeper maybe.

>>653366
>>653478
Feels a bit like you're applying your "modern" knowledge and morals on this case anon

I doubt people would react that strongly in a world which I believe to be equivalent to around 1900ish communist UK

>>654356
Even if that's true, what would Lize think when we bring back something clearly human in nature and hang it on our wall or something? Taking a piece of jewellery or something of the sort sounds like a perfect idea.

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>>654432
Actually I didn't even type that for the purpose of arguing what we should take, I wanted to take her ceremonial sword and whatever cool weapon the tyrant uses anyway

I was expecting people to pick up on my guess for the setting instead

>>654489
What we take (if anything since we don't really need to) will depend on how she dies. Can't really take a ceremonial sword if she dies all shady like, but if she 'dies in battle honorably' that's another story.

>>654489
>ceremonial sword
You mean a weapon that is super fancy and might be recognized as her weapon of choice or something? Something nice and small will serve just fine, if at all.

>>654764
The thing is, if she dies in battle, 'she' probably won't have been using that ceremonial sword

Clearly we must assassinate her in her sleep

>>654810
Well we don't have to show it to everyone, just wrap it in cloth for the trip and set it up on the wall over our bed when we get home

>>654901
I know I say a lot of obviously bad ideas, but that is a TERRIBLE idea.

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In the end, it's Loch who presented the plan. It's the logical choice, really – you're almost certain that it flowed from his pen, and his scheming mind. Standing erect, with his hands folded behind his back, he launched into an explanation. The crisp sound of his words fills the room more thoroughly than any shout drawn from Yvette's young throat, and they carry a greater weight of certainty as well.

Maybe, you think as he begins, this might actually work.

“We have three ships,” he begins simply, “The Ogre, the Ghoul, and the Majestic.”

“One of these,” Vas mutters to you, “Is not like the others.”

“I will command the Ogre, Captain Vasily will command the Ghoul, while... Captain Saive will be in charge of the Majestic, our flagship,” a slight moment of hesitation finds its way into Loch's voice as he pronounces Yvette's rank, and you know that it was no slip of the tongue. A deliberate jab, aimed a rank the young noblewoman has not earned. “Now, pay attention. As you can see on this chart, the operation will follow three stage. In the first stage, the Ogre and the Majestic will approach the target's location.”

“The Ogre will be carrying the bulk of our forces,” Yvette adds, “The majority of the troops, under Ministry command.”

“I will direct the attack from the Ogre, providing instructions and information over the radio. Every unit of men will be given one portable radio device – do not lose or damage this, or you risk losing contact with your allies,” Loch's voice is dry, “This attack, however, is not the main thrust of our spear. Observe stage two though three.”

You look down at the map. Dark ink stains a curving arc around the island – coming dangerously close to the abyss that is Ghruul's Eye.

“While the Ogre and the Majestic are drawing the Tyrant's attention, the Ghoul will be travelling along this path. The Ghoul will be carrying five teams, each led by a Hunter. At their designated marks, each team will take a smaller boat to shore and move into the Tyrant's fortress. Your mission will be simple – infiltrate the fortress and assassinate the White Tyrant himself. As with the main force, each team will be equipped with a single portable radio. Keep in contact with your fellow teams and share information.”

“I have a question,” Hyde asks, raising a hand, “Why are we splitting up? We'd be stronger moving as a larger unit.”

“We know that the woods are patrolled by barbarians,” Yvette answers, “With five teams, deployed across a wider area, we hope to increase your chances of slipping through undetected. Also, one team can scout ahead and relay information back to the others, while another team can provide a rearguard.”

[1/2]

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>>658157

“And what of the Ghoul?” Vas asks, “What am I to do with her once the last of the Hunter teams has deployed?”

“Your secondary objective will be to move the Ghoul into a concealed position and wait. Should the Hunter teams prove successful, they will retreat to the Ghoul and return to Port Steyr. If that should prove impossible, the Hunter teams are to travel overland to Port Steyr. However, I stress that an overland retreat is dangerous, to be used as a last resort alone,” Loch traces a path west across the island. To get back to Port Steyr, you'd need to cross a stretch of waters – too cold for any man to swim.

A last resort, indeed.

“As you can see, the Hunter teams have been assigned numbers and deployment points. Team one – Krebs. Team two – Hyde,” Loch begins to recite the numbers from memory. At the mention of his name, you sense Hyde stiffen a little, although whether it's from fear or excitement remains unclear. “Team three – Hanson. Team four – Bannerman. Team five – Stukov. Is that understood?”

So you'll be coming right in the middle. Not the worst position to be in. Ilse doesn't look too happy about her place, Stukov's face betrays no expression whatsoever, while Krebs looks eager. Eager to fight, you wonder, or eager to die?

“The White Tyrant has a ship,” Vas says, his voice hardening, “I've seen it with my own eyes, and the damn thing nearly sent me to the bottom. Do we have a plan to deal with that monstrosity?”

“That task falls to the Majestic,” Yvette boasts, “She's armed and armoured fit to defeat anything else on the waters. If this ship dares to show its face, we'll drive it back and destroy it!”

“Defence against a hostile vessel is the Majestic's main purpose in this battle,” Loch adds, in a more restrained voice, “But it will also provide close support if the situation demands it. Again, I must stress the importance of your radio equipment. Listen out for any advance warnings, and retreat from the targeted areas.”

Yvette looks almost sick with anger at the mention of this “support”. No doubt the idea of shelling her own birthright is an unwelcome one. When the time comes, you'll see where her priorities lie.

“There will be a second briefing later, to remind you all of your duties,” Loch finishes, leaning forwards over the table. Just for a second, relief flashes across his face as he takes some of the weight off, but then the mask descends once more. “Are there any questions?”

>When do we leave?
>The main force – are they just a distraction?
>Do the Hunter teams have any secondary objectives? Any other targets?
>I had a question... (Write in)
>Other

>>658160
>>The main force – are they just a distraction?
>>Do the Hunter teams have any secondary objectives? Any other targets?

>>658160
>>Do the Hunter teams have any secondary objectives? Any other targets?
>>I was on Vas ship when it was attacked and can testify that the Tyrant has at the very least one Northern Witch that can sabotage a ships engine from distance, how are we preparing for that?

>>658160
This is a rather heavy reliance on radios. Considering the Sibling Knights.....we are SO fucked.
>Are we allowed to make temporary alliances with dissidents, if they exist?
>What if the Tyrant's ship intercepts us on the way? We may lose any element of surprise.

>>658177
these are important questions as well.

>>658175
>from distance
Didn't she have to be on the ship to place the magic? Another thing is why have the Ghoul wait around when it could circle around to pick us up. Probably to stay sneaky I'm sure but having it wait in that thinner strip of forest would make getting back on the ship a lot easier than trekking all the way up there again.

>>658175
Hebona had to plant stuff on the ship while on board.

>>658160
>>Do the Hunter teams have any secondary objectives? Any other targets?

>>658181
>>658183
Acceptable correction, was just thinking about Wherlains research ship tough that could have been the Moon. Retracting that question.

The main attacking force, you ask, are they purely there to serve as a distraction?

“Their primary objective is to keep the Tyrant's eyes focused elsewhere, so that the Hunter teams can advance,” Loch nods, “But that is not the entirety of their role. Should you succeed in your objective, the attacking force will be ordered to press forwards and secure the fortress itself. While we may not have the resources for a long term occupation, we can claim a foothold until we plan our next move.”

“And what if they find the Tyrant first?” Stukov asks, stabbing one stubby finger down against the map, “What are their orders then?”

“Kill on sight,” Loch replies simply, “Next question?”

Do the Hunter teams have any secondary objectives, you ask, any other targets?

“No. Your one and only order is to find and eliminate the White Tyrant,” a hard note steals into Loch's voice, “All other concerns are secondary. I expect this to be your priority, above all other concerns.”

A faint ripple of discontent passes through the room, as if the same thought has occurred to everyone. Everything else is secondary – including helping the other teams, if that proves to be a distraction. Hyde in particular shakes his head, grimacing at the thought. He always a good man, Hyde. Perhaps a little too good for this kind of work.

What happens, you ask, if the Tyrant's ship intercepts the force before everyone has reached their positions? You'd lose the element of surprise, and the plan would be ruined.

“That is a risk, I admit,” Loch nods slightly, “Should that, or any other drastic alterations occur, I will provide new orders though your radio equipment. If, for whatever reason, I cannot do that, you are to proceed according to your own discretion. React as the situation demands it. To answer your original question, if the Tyrant's vessel intercepts our forces, priority will shift to destroying it. After that, we can adjust our plans.”

Another part of the plan that relies on these portable radios. You're not particularly happy about that – technology can fail, especially in the north. He said that you're to use your discretion, you ask, how far does that extend? If the situation should present itself, are you permitted to work with dissident northerners? A temporary alliance might well give you the advantage.

“I see,” Loch considers the point for a moment, “This is not a factor I considered. However, if the situation presents itself, and you believe it can bring the Tyrant into your sights... yes, a temporary alliance is acceptable.”

He puts a lot of emphasis, you notice, on the word “temporary”.

[1/2]

>>658206

“I have a question regarding the Ghoul,” Vas clears his throat, “How much freedom do I have to change positions? Do I have clearance to move in and pick up the Hunter teams once their objective is complete?”

“You are permitted to relocate as the situation demands,” Loch confirms, “Hunter teams, keep that in mind – the Ghoul may change positions. If you are forced to retreat back to the ship, make sure to confirm its location before moving.”

Heads nod, and a murmur of relief passes through the room. Ilse is the next person to voice their queries. “Do we have to wear a uniform?” she asks, “What about standardised equipment?”

“Weapons and cold weather equipment will be provided,” the old man pauses to think, deciding something before he continues, “However, personal equipment is permitted. Bring whatever weapons and equipment you are most comfortable with. The main attacking force will be in uniform, mainly to ensure unit cohesion and recognition. I trust that is satisfactory?”

“Good enough,” she nods, “I got no problem with that.”

“Excellent,” Loch straightens up, and a grimace touches his face for a brief moment, “If there are no further questions, then-”

“What about witchcraft?” Stukov interrupts, “Do we have a smart little plan for dealing with that as well?”

A grim silence falls across the room at his brazen words. You see a few winces, even a few people flinching as if struck, and Yvette pales slightly. “Official Ministry policy on such matters is very clear,” Loch begins, his voice remaining steady and calm, “Such matters have been proven false, and are to be considered-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stukov waves a blunt hand through the air, “Forget I asked. Don't know why I bothered, anyway...”

That pall of silence lingers for a moment longer, and then Yvette claps her hands together sharply. “We're finished here,” she declares, “The ships leave Port Daud tomorrow evening. Anyone not present when they leave will be considered a deserted, and punished accordingly. Anyone leaking information about this operation will be considered a traitor, and punished accordingly. Anyone seeking to sabotage the operation will-”

“I think that's enough,” Loch cuts her off with a polite voice, “You're all dismissed. Prepare accordingly, and present yourselves at Port Daud tomorrow. Gentlemen, ladies, good hunting.”

Good hunting, you mutter to yourself.

-

Despite being dismissed, the assembles Hunters and Ministry agents linger for a while – almost as if nobody wants to be the first to leave. At least if offers you the chance to get in a few last questions, if any occur to you.

>Return home and rest
>Find someone and ask a question (Write in)
>Other

>>658225
Just want to confirm something: They're sending the Hunters to kill the White Tyrant. They're treating him as a Beast.

>>658225
>>Return home and rest


>>658228
I think it's more that we have better odds than normal soldiers at navigating the woods and sneaking in.

>>658225
>>Other
>>Gather hunters tell them what we learned of witch craft on Wherlains 'Pleasure Cruise'

>>658228
Wolves are better trackers and scouts to lead troops somewhat quietly to the target location.

>>658225
>Return home and rest

>>658228

>Sorry, wasn't sure if this was OOC or IC. >>658229 and >>658239 are correct. It wasn't intended as an official attempt at marking the White Tyrant as a beast.

You're just about ready to head home for a spot of rest, you decide, there's just one last issue you wanted to discuss with your fellow Hunters. Stukov raised a good point, even if nobody else was willing to talk openly about it. Witchcraft could very well be a factor in the coming operation, and they deserve to know what they could be dealing with.

At least getting them all together isn't a challenge. Out in the cold streets, the relative peace and privacy, your fellow Wolves have gathered in a pack, grimly complaining and joking about what lies ahead. As you approach to join them, their voices reach you.

“Stukov, you idiot,” Ilse hisses, “If you get some secret police goons busting down your door tonight, you've only got yourself to blame. What were you thinking, mouthing off like that?”

“Witchcraft is real, and you all know it,” the broad man retorts, “Sticking your head in the snow and pretending it isn't won't change a damn thing. You think you can just close your eyes and wish away a bullet? It's no different!”

“It's totally different!” Ilse snaps, “You don't get Ministry heavies taking you aside for “a quiet word” if you talk about pistols in public. You might be willing to get your tongue snipped, but I'm-”

He's got a point, you interrupt, witchcraft is a risk they should be prepared to face.

“Thank you,” Stukov nods towards you. It's hard to tell, through the thick beard covering his chin, but you think he's smiling at you. “Sure, maybe I was a little too blunt about it, but someone needed to say it. Go on then, Henryk, you sound like you know what you're talking about – what should we be expecting?”

Sabotage, you reply simply, engines choked by crawling weeds and plants. That's probably the biggest risk, but it's one that can be avoided. No unauthorised personnel allowed near the engines, that should be enough. Other than that, they should just keep an eye out for straw dolls or totems made with thorns. Those are the usual signs of witchcraft. Anything specific they wanted to know?

“Yeah, I got a question,” Ilse squares up to you, her short height somewhat ruining the attempt at intimidation, “When did you get to be a Scholar? You fallen in with a wrong crowd, or what?”

The fact that she's actually pretty close to the truth causes you to laugh aloud. Never mind how you know, you tell the group, you have your ways. Anyway, it's about time you hit the road – there's a busy road ahead of you, and you want at least one night of decent sleep.

“See you around, Henryk,” Hyde tells you, “Good hunting.”

The others repeat his words, their voices forming a gruff chorus. Not quite Wolves howling at the moon, but close.

[1/2]

>>658264

You said you wanted a night of decent sleep, but you feel more awake than ever. As you walk the lonesome streets, you see maps and charts spreading out through your mind. Loch said there would be a second briefing, but you doubt there is any need for a reminder. It's not such a complicated plan, and improvisation will likely play a large role. Something will go wrong, and it'll all turn into a desperate scrabble to salvage something. Hopefully, you'll all pull through.

The idea of leading a small team isn't one you relish. The extra support will be nice, if you get in a fight, but their lives will be in your hands. That's more responsibility than a Wolf usually carries on their shoulders. Loch said that Yvette was the weak link, but maybe he was wrong. There are a lot of things that could go wrong, and the erratic noblewoman is only one part of a long list.

Deal with that when it comes. Cross that bridge when you reach it.

-

Lize is still awake when you return, although only just. Her pistol lies disassembled before her, but she shows little interest in either cleaning it or putting it back together. Sprawled out on the couch, she listens to the music creeping from the radio and yawns. The sound of the door closing causes her to jolt upright.

“I wasn't asleep!” she insists, “I wasn't!”

Maybe she should have been, you reply, she looks like she could use the rest.

“Well, yeah, maybe I am a little tired. Still, I didn't know if I'd get a chance to see you in the morning, so...” Lize lets her words trail off before perking up, “Anyway, never mind that. What was the Saive place like? Was it a total pit? Like, I've been imagining all kinds of crappy stuff.”

It would have been nice once, you tell her as you look around your own apartment, which is more than can be said for this place. Sitting down at the table, you start to put the pistol back together for her. As your hands work, you find yourself telling her about Yvette. It's strange, comparing the two nobles. Lize, somehow, is the more mature of the pair, even though Yvette must be ten or more years older.

“Most nobles are awful,” Lize's voice has no trace of irony in it, “I mean, they are. I've met enough to know that. If you don't mind me saying, though, I got a bad feeling about her. Might be, I've got something of a unique perspective, you know?”

Alright, you reply as you work, what's her take on Yvette?

“Well, like, I wouldn't bet on her family name giving her a backbone,” Lize warns, “Talking about it is fine, but when things go really wrong... people can change. A name and a reputation are great and all, but they don't make you bulletproof.”

[2/3]

>>658284

An interesting perspective. She threw away her family name, you point out, is that what she meant by a “unique perspective”?

“I guess, yeah,” she nods thoughtfully, “Seeing the way my parents were going, it was a bit like staring death in the face. Look what happened – I ran. Might be, this Saive lady might do the same.”

Might be, you admit, but there are contingency plans in place. She runs, and there's someone ready to take her place. Loch isn't the type of person who would allow a glaring vulnerability like that, not without taking measures to compensate.

“Glad we don't have that kind of thing going on,” Lize offers you a sly grin, “Nobody out there who could take my place!”

Yeah, you reply in a deadpan tone, a replacement pet is never the same.

“Hey!” although her voice is loud with irritation, a happy smile spreads across Lize's face.

-

Like a strange and no doubt dysfunctional family, Alyssia and Lize accompany you to the train station. As your ride to Port Daud pulls in, they both give you fond – but brief - farewells. There isn't enough time for long goodbyes, and soon you're being swept along in a crowd of your fellow travellers. There aren't many happy faces among them, and you can guess why. They're all going to the same place you're going – first to Port Daud, and then off the war. Only time will tell how many of them might be coming back.

-

Looking at the three ships lined up before you, it occurs to you how appropriate they all are. Function and form are one and truly one and the same in this case. The Ogre is broad and bulky, well fitted for carrying a vast amount of human cargo. The Majestic is like a sword – a real sword, a tool of battle and not the sculpted toy that Yvette parades around – and it wears its weapons openly. Thick cannons jut out from boxy turrets, while the hull has the sheen of good quality metal. Finally, the Ghoul is a hunter – smaller and sleeker than the other ships, but well suited to creeping about unnoticed. It will serve you well, you decide, and Vas will relish the chance to captain it.

Port Daud itself is thriving, busier than you've ever seen it. An early afternoon sun hangs high overhead, and the sight of it reminds you of the time. A warehouse at the docks has been converted, hastily, to a reception area for the influx of troops. Inside, Ministry clerks give directions, hand out uniforms and berate any ill-disciplined men they see.

You've got a while before you have to report for duty. Time enough to find something to do.

>Report for duty early. Might as well get it over with (Time skip)
>Find your fellow Hunters
>Look for Vas
>Other

>>658299
>>Look for Vas
We'll be on the same ship as the Hunters so we'll have plenty of time to talk.

>>658299
>>Look for Vas

>>658299
>>Look for Vas

>>658299
>Find your fellow Hunters

Unfortunately I wasn't around to ask this question, but the choice of infiltration routes is strange. All groups will advance essentially by the same path, and if one is detected, the next ones will come right into the hornet's nest. Disembarking at the south seems more logical.
I'd like to talk with the other Hunters about what it might imply, as well as do some preliminary route planning, maybe exchange experience.

>>658307
That is a good point. There's no real point in going separately if we are going into the same choke point in waves.

>>658299
Moloch is the target for the Hunters Port Tyrant or is the target on that eastern part of the island, south of where we disembark?

>>658299
Seconding this:
>>658307

>>658331

>The Hunter teams are targeting Port Tyrant, yes. I have a certain amount of IC planning prepared for an upcoming post, so there will be a chance to swap ideas and information.

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>>658344
Cause like the anon above said we are just advancing in waves and if the one in front is engaged we can only reinforce them, not support/flank. It'll be like a traffic jam.

>>658352
Coming in from the south would also make for a shorter trip.

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Wouldn't something like this be more preferable? If one team gets caught/bogged down the entire advance doesn't stop and the teams can also flank the enemies attacking another team from the right or left.

>>658365

>That would actually be a very valid plan, yes. I'll certainly include it in the next set of posts. Good call!

It's something of a tradition, you think with a faint smile, to meet up with Vas and raise a little hell before a long journey... and after a long journey. Actually, you correct yourself, whenever you're bored enough. Admittedly, there won't be much raising hell going on today – not while you're on duty – but you still want the trade a few words with him. It wouldn't feel right, leaving without doing so.

Fortunately, you don't have to go far to find him. He's at the docks, pacing back and forth in the shadow of the Ghoul with an expression of admiration on his face. Occasionally, he'll stop and reach out, the tips of his fingers brushing across the hull.

Hey, you call out to him as you approach, what does he think?

“Henryk, would you barge in on me if I was with a woman?” Vas doesn't look around, “This is no different. I'm trying to woo her.”

She's a Ghoul, you point out, you're pretty sure there are laws against that.

“Maybe. Probably,” shaking his head, Vas looks back to you, “I like her. She's a good ship. Quick, and she'll be fair nimble once she's out on the open waters. I had a chance to speak with our esteemed leader – the real leader, if you catch my meaning – last night. Nothing major, you understand – just confirming a few things.”

Loch, you guess, what were they talking about?

“My pay. Namely, this fine lady here,” Vas nods back to the Ghoul, “She's mine to keep when all this is over and done with. That was what I signed up for, way back when, and I wanted to make sure that was still the case. I'll give this Loch one thing in his favour – he doesn't go back on a deal. One job, and she's as good as mine.”

But there's still that one job to do, you warn him, so he'd better not get ahead of himself. No point in gloating over his prize if it's reduced to a burning husk before the operation is over.

“You're in a good mood today, shit,” laughing, Vas shakes his head, “But yes, you're right – focus on getting back in one piece, and then I can worry about redecorating. Maybe a new name, something a little less...”

A little less ghoulish?

“You said it,” he remarks with a smirk and a shrug, “Not me.”

-

Conversation draws out a little longer, but one thing soon becomes clear – Vas only has eyes for the new lady in his life. Leaving him to put the moves on her, you wander back to the converted warehouse with the intent of checking in. As you arrive, though, you see your fellow Wolves gathered in a corner.

Most of them, at least. Krebs is absent. Approaching them, your first remark is to ask after the ageing Hunter.

[1/2]

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>>658385

“Hell, where do you think he is?” Ilse groans, “He checked in, bought a bottle and went off to drink himself unconscious. That's pretty much all he does these days, when he's not working. He's going to get someone killed, one of these days, and I don't want it to be me.”

“Leave it, Ilse,” Hyde warns her, “I'll have a word with him. He always shapes up when it's time to do his duty. You know that.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she shakes her head, “Anyway, Henryk, glad you're here. We were talking about this high and mighty plan. You heard what Loch said – we've got room to improvise. So... we're improvising. Vasily, our captain – he's a good buddy of yours, right?”

He's an old friend, you agree, you could have a word with him if need be.

“Wait a minute, wait!” Hyde raises his voice, “If we're going to plan something, we need to do it together. Just let me go and wake Krebs, he has as much right to be a part of this as any of us.” He fixes you all with a hard look and then hurries off, leaving the short woman fuming.

Muttering angrily, Ilse takes out a well used map, squatting and spreading it out on the floor. “See, this in black is our planned route. Got any better ideas?”

Sitting, you look at the map for a while before tracing your finger around the south of the island. This could work, you tell her, and it would give you a wider angle of approach. The mountains might give you some trouble, but...

“Nah, I've seen those before,” Stukov shakes his head, “Even from a distance, you can see the paths cutting through them. You couldn't march an army through them, but a small team of people? Absolutely.”

“Hey, yeah, I like it,” Ilse nods, “And our ride can take shelter a little further along. With the other two ships taking the original route, we'll have even better odds of sneaking past. Yeah, this is okay... assuming Loch gives us the go-ahead. He SAID we can improvise, but I wager he wasn't expecting anything like this. Ah, what the hell. We can wait for Krebs to shamble over, see if he has anything to add – I'd bet good money that he doesn't – and then take it to Loch. Sound good to you?”

“Sounds good,” Stukov nods, “Henryk?”

Sounds good, you agree, Hyde might have something to offer as well. Time to wait and see what they think.

[2/3]

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>>658409

It's not long before Krebs arrives back with Hyde, and you can smell him long before you see him – even without resorting to the power of your Wolf's Blood. He smells like a backyard distillery, a haze of pungent fumes hanging around him like heavy fog. Still, he has something approaching life and sense in his eyes, which you have to take as a good sign.

“Seems fine,” he grunts, as you and Ilse painstakingly explain the plan to him, “No complaints here.”

“Anything to add?” Ilse asks, in a voice too sickeningly sweet to be sincere. When Krebs ponderously shakes his head, she shoots you a victorious smile.

“I'm not entirely sure about this,” Hyde offers, “But... well, it might be easier for us to group together this way. That's an advantage. I want to clear this with Loch first, though – I don't want him to mistake us for deserters when we break off from their group.”

“Really, either plan works with me. I'm not fussy,” Stukov shrugs, “So what are we doing?”

>We're sticking with the original plan
>Let's go with the alternative... provided that Loch agrees
>Other

>>658422
>>Let's go with the alternative... provided that Loch agrees

>>658422
>>Let's go with the alternative... provided that Loch agrees

>>658422
>Let's ask Loch for the reasoning behind the original plan.

>>658422
>>Let's go with the alternative... provided that Loch agrees

>>658422
>Let's go with the alternative... provided that Loch agrees

You'll go with the alternative plan, you decide, provided that Loch finds it agreeable. You'll go and find him now, you add, no sense in waiting to get his approval.

“We'll all go and see him,” Hyde says, “We're all in agreement here, and he should know that.”

“Right, we'll all go,” Stukov nods, “Not like I had anything better to do with my time.”

“I'm going back to bed,” Krebs argues, “Tell Lake I agreed. Tell him whatever you like.” The more he speaks, the more slushed together his words get. With a lurching gait more unstable than any common drunkenness, he turns and wanders away before anyone can raise a protest.

“Krebs!” Hyde calls after him, without much hope, “Damn it...”

And it's Loch, you add unnecessarily, not Lake.

“I don't care if he cleans up his act in time for the mission,” Ilse snaps, in the voice of someone spitting a curse, “He's a damn liability. I give him a year, maybe two at most, and he'll be-”

“Ilse, stop it,” Hyde snaps back, clenching his fists tight, “Leave it!”

“No, hell no!” she yells, her voice causing the lingering soldiers to turn and stare, “Stop protecting him, Hyde, you know what's happening here. A year, maybe two – mark my words.”

For a moment, you're sure that Hyde is about to strike her, here in full view of everyone, but then his shoulders slump and his fists relax. “Fine. A year, maybe two. I get it,” he mutters, his voice weary and dead, “Are we finished here? Can we just get a move on?”

“Yeah,” Ilse looks away, anger still dancing within her eyes, “Yeah, we're finished.” Brushing past Hyde, she makes for the exit. Stukov shoots you a pained look before joining her. Hyde lingers, and then he starts to walk out as well.

What a mess, you mutter to yourself as you leave.

-

The four of you – a motley party, if you've ever seen one – board the Ogre in search of Loch. At first, the guards try to turn you away, but then a flash of your League papers grants you both access and directions. He has a discrete office set up in what would normally be the captain's quarters, although it looks little different from a regular crewman's cabin. Not one for indulgence or opulence, apparently. You can respect that.

Sitting behind his desk, Loch listens patiently as you explain your version of the plan. Acutely aware of how worn and filthy Ilse's map is, especially in comparison with his obsessively clean quarters, you mark out the southern route and five possible deployment locations.

All the while, tension – a lingering remnant of the brief argument – hangs over the group. Loch's stare, unwavering and piercing, doesn't help with that. When you finish, and then fall silent, he gives you a simple verdict.

[1/2]

>>658469

“Good,” he says quietly, “I like it.”

So you've got his blessing?

“By all means. I was prepared to alter the plan, if need be, and I'm happy to do so,” stroking his chin, he looks back down to the improvised map, “I had considered the southern route before, actually, but I thought the Ghoul would be unable to make it through the narrows here. I must confess, my knowledge of ships and their capabilities is less than perfect. Hanson, I understand that you've sailed with Captain Vasily before – I'm told that he's one of the best. Do you think he can guide a ship through?”

Absolutely, you reply, it would be an easy job with a ship like the Ghoul. He could probably take the Ogre through, if he had to.

“I don't think that will be necessary,” Loch shakes his head slightly, “But I'm glad to hear that you have such confidence in his abilities. I must warn you, however – it's unlikely, but if the Tyrant's vessel is somewhere along the southern route...”

You'll be going in without support, you agree, it's a risk you'll have to take.

“Good. I'm glad you understand. As I said, I expect it to be docked to the north, so the chances of crossing paths are low,” reaching into his desk, Loch produces a map of his own and starts to meticulously copy down the new plans. “I'll see to it that these new instructions are distributed to those who need to know,” then he pauses, his pen raised above the map, “Actually, this may play out to our advantage.”

“Why?” Hyde asks, before hastily correcting himself, “I mean, why do you say that?”

“A last minute change of plans can serve to fool any spies that have found their way into our midst. I don't believe that the operation has been compromised, but an extra layer of security can't possibly hurt,” smiling grimly – actually smiling for once – Loch allows his gaze to pan across the four of you, “But perhaps I'm just a paranoid old man. Pay me no mind. Have you all reported in yet?”

“Hell, I forgot,” Ilse shakes her head, “I was in the queue and all, but...”

You were about to do it as well, you add, but...

“Then perhaps you should attend to that,” Loch looks down to the map, “Good work, all of you.”

-

“Is that a personal weapon?” the clerk asks, looking at the Maus rifle slung over your shoulder.

It is, you tell him with a nod, will that be a problem?

“No, but we won't be able to provide you with any additional ammunition. Logistics, you understand...” he shrugs and then checks the forms on his desk, “Let me see, a Hunter. Please wait here for a moment.”

More waiting.

[2/3]

>>658516
Oh shit I forgot about the Maus. Glad you remembered.

>>658516

“One greatcoat. One rifle, ammunition provided. One flashlight. Flares, two green and two red. One map. One compass,” the clerk counts items off a list as his mute assistant places them on the long table, “Do you need winter boots? Gloves? Any other supplies?”

This is fine, you tell him as you load the supplies into a sturdy box, this is more than enough.

“The red flares are to announce success, the green flares signal an emergency. Use them if your issued radio equipment becomes damaged,” he continues, “Your quarters are on the Ogre.”

The Ogre, you ask, not the Ghoul?

“The Ghoul is not equipped to support a large crew for the journey north. You'll stop at Port Steyr and switch over. Standard practice, I'm afraid,” he offers you a vague smile, one that aims at being helpful, “At least you'll have plenty of company.”

Company, you think as you take the box and leave, just what you always wanted.

-

It can't be a coincidence, you think, that all five Hunters have been stationed in a single dorm – one that would otherwise fit eight men. The other dorms are packed full, but you've got empty bunks.

“Maybe the other men don't want to sleep in a room that smells of dog,” Hyde remarks when you point this out, a humourless smile on his face.

“Fine with me. More room,” Stukov laughs, his voice drifting over from his bed, “One brute snoring away in the background is bad enough.”

As if he was all too aware of Stukov's words, Krebs rolls over in his bunk and grunts something, muttering in his sleep. You all fall silent for a moment, listening for any recognisable words, and then Ilse speaks up.

“You know what I read?” she says suddenly, “They get Wolves up north as well, just like here in the Free States. You believe that?”

“Of course I bloody believe it,” Stukov sits up, “I've killed enough of them. Bigger, maybe, but a bullet or a knife does the job fine enough.”

“Not that kind of wolf, you idiot,” Ilse shoots back, “Wolves like us, I mean. Up north, though, they're honoured – respected. Not treated like... like pariah dogs!”

A dark silence – at least, it would have been a silence if not for Krebs snoring away in the background – falls over the dorm. You glance at each other, nobody quite sure what to say, as Ilse scowls in stubborn defiance. That silence would have stretched out further still, but then the Ogre's engines rumble into life. Slowly, achingly slowly, the Ogre begins to move out of Port Daud.

“You shouldn't believe everything you read,” Hyde mutters, once that rumble has settled.

>I'm going to close things here. Next thread on Friday, and I'll stick around in case of any questions or comments
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>658587
Thanks for running.

>You shouldn't believe everything you read,”
I mean it makes logical sense. Northerners are still human and while there is genetics involved most special bloods appear at almost random. I'd bet they have Snakes and Bulls up there too.

>>658587
>“The red flares are to announce success, the green flares signal an emergency.
I can't help but feel like those should be flipped. Thanks for running Moloch. That last bit of foreshadowing seems like it'll be a big pain in the butt, sounds fun though.

>>658587
>facing other hunters
fun

So who's betting the Tyrant is Saive's sibling and Dragonblooded too?

Who wants to bet Ilse is going to turn traitor?

>>658606
>Who wants to bet Ilse is going to turn traitor?
Whaaaaat? Nah, she's cool. I could see her getting hotblooded and raging off to her death though.