I slipped into the back alleys, the eyes of the late morning crowd sliding off of me as soon as I broke from the dusty main road. The smell of perfume, sweat and A few haggard faces spared me bored looks as I tipped my hat and strode past.

  The Chantry stood at the end of the alley, still lookin' out of place in a town this big. I shoved through the doors and nearly sneezed at the rush of cool air and the heavy scent of holy oils.

  In the nave a group of women and men, the youngest about fifteen, sat listening to a priest. That fella Temperance had called her husband. He still had a fading bruise on his cheek and on his now crooked nose, reminders from yours truly to watch his hands and mind his godsdamned manners.

  I smiled as I drew off my hat and took the side isle to the rectory.

  "You're late," a familiar voice whispered as I passed through the short hall and entered into the small office, "Tom and I have been waiting an hour, Lorcan."

  Temperance stood over a little table, a map laid out with a number of pins marking important points. Tom was lounging in a chair by the window, puffing on a fat cigar, a plate of sausage and eggs resting on his round gut.

  "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Visited Miss Dierdre and stumbled across some jackboots playin' thug. Couldn't resist," I said with a wicked smile.

  Tom sighed, "Oh fuck, did you kill them? This ain't the fucking time to be makin' trouble, kid."

  "Nah, just gave one a little scare," I admitted, "got lucky that the lieutenant decided to show up."

  "Lieutenant?" Tom frowned and Temperance's brows shot up, "Did he say who he was under? Who was it?"

  "No," I answered, "She. Said she was in charge of Uptown, or at least that part of it. Had a big old bee in her knickers about some fancy boy coming to, uh..." I scratched my chin. Truth be told, I didn't remember the full details, "something about a visit from a bigwig in the empire. She was pissed."

  Temperance looked to Tom and he shrugged, "Fancy that," he said dryly, "hey Roche, care to guess what we're planning for your first real job with the Flock?"

  I rolled my eyes, "I'll bite. You're going to do something about that fancy boy. Steal his shit or kill him, probably both, and use his death as an excuse to rile up the common folk against the new Governor."

  Tom slow clapped and Temperance gave me an approving nod. She was wearin' her innocent maiden face, the one that hid all the nasty behind a pretty veneer.

  "Right on the nose, Lorcan. That young man, Envoy Dorian Veyne is here to asses the colony and advise on the construction of a transportation network. They mean to build something called a 'railroad' to expedite the transfer of mineral wealth from the mines to the port here at Agustus' Hope. They will build it on the backs of slaves, Mister Roche, and if it is completed it will only further cement the Duke Governor and by extension, the Empires foothold here."

  I nodded. That did sound bad. The stronger the Empire was here in the New World, the more they'd take from us all, yet seemed too big picture for a man like me. Seemed to large a target for a, seemingly, limited group like the flock, "Alright. Besides the fact that he's a boot licker for the lawdogs back home, why does the Flock care? Shouldn't you be targeting slavers or-"

  Tom snorted, "Heard you already done that son. Several nobles are very upset about a certain Thomas Hartwell and his little gang getting the noose. Impulsive, messy."

  "Thought you covered my tracks on that?"

  "Oh we did, until some merchant's son named Ernesto Della Luna started shouting about the hero caballero who freed him and a whole boat load of slaves. Fucking moron. He's a real loose thread," Tom sighed and rubbed his eyes, "you need to go shut him up yourself. Him and his daddy are on our side, in way. And we don't mess with our friends. That'll be your first order of business after this and-"

  Temperance raised a hand and Tom's lips snapped shut, "Hold on. I meant to address this. Mister Luna is not the only one proclaiming Roche a boon to this city. Professor Clarke and several members of the University have also done much to raise your reputation for good, and for ill. While I was with Tom on quashing this, I had a thought."

  "Oh no," Tom muttered and pulled out a flask, "Tempy we fucking talked about this. That plan is a dangerous one."

  She waved a hand, "Roche is the best fit. You said so yourself, he's the type that can't help but make noise. I say we embrace it. Forget having him on the strike team. Roche will infiltrate the envoy's staff."

  Several tense looks passed between the portly assassin and the deific Saintess. They had a silent conversation that I guess I just wasn't privy to.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tom shrugged, and thought he seemed to have relented, I could tell they'd have a longer talk after I was gone.

  "You're the boss, Tempy, but if this goes to shit, I will not let you live it down."

  Temperance smiled, sweet and sharp, "Yes you will. But no need to worry, all will go according to plan. Lorcan, how do you feel about acting?"

  "Acting?" I frowned, "As in the theater? Listen, how about before you two cook up some scheme needin' me you take fuckin' second to ask what I might like to do. I ain't some pig-fuck moron, I just resemble one. Got a life of my own. I owe you a debt Tempy, but I ain't no dog."

  The Saintess sighed and Tom chuckled, "Nah, you're a dirty street cat with a knack for killing folk and pissing people off."

  "And?" I said raising an eyebrow.

  "And that's exactly why you'd be the guy for this. We've been wanting to push one of our members to legitimacy, and I mean the public kind. Prop one of our boys up as a champion, get them high enough in the Hunters Guild that they might be assigned to certain," Tom tossed his head from side to side, "sensitive tasks."

  "Yes," Temperance breathed, a strange look in her eyes, "tasks like being the personal security to the Imperial Envoy, for instance."

  I leaned back against the wall and fished for a cigar. Tom leaned up to light it with a flame conjured with a crisp snap, "I think ya'll are getting ahead of yourselves. I done two jobs for the Guild, well, I guess Hartwell for more for me but-"

  "But it's not enough to place you any where near the elite of the Guild, right?" Tom cut in with a grin, his small, porcine eyes glittering, "Of course there's an easy solution to that, isn't there? If the problem is a lack of recorded accomplishments to go along with your newfound fame..."

  Temperance nodded, "Then you simply need to get back out there, and prove yourself. Again. And again."

  "And," Tom grinned, "you can start right now, by having a chat with that little rich bastard and his loudmouth father, like I originally planned. Except now, you're not going to drive them away. You're going to make friends. After that, hit the Guild board so damn hard you put everyone else's achievements in the shade. Make a big stink, drag in some strong bounties, take every opportunity to tell folk how fuckin' great you are. Meanwhile, we'll use our contacts to do the same. With luck, by the time summer has ended, you'll be in the running to watch over the Empire's finest. You'll be right behind their back when the time comes for the Flock to strike." He smiled, gold and yellow teeth glinting, "Now, what do you say Roche?"

  I chewed on the cigar.

  On one hand, it seemed like a lot of work. On the other, it wasn't really. I had more or less planned to climb the Guild ranks anyway. Truthfully this didn't even seem like much of a departure from Temperance's earlier instructions of 'get stronger, get established' just now I knew a little of why.

  "Sounds like ya'll want me to get rich, and famous," I said looking between the two, "and all for a good cause?" I grinned so wide I could feel it, "Fuckin' fine by me. I might have objections when we come to dealin' with this Envoy, especially because it seems like I'll be in a pretty risky position, but if it's the mission then I'll see it done."

  Tom smiled, and Temperance's own smile matched mine, though hers was more demure.

  "Perfect. Then Roche, I'll let you go to that task. Remember, befriend the Luna family, climb the ladder, make a name. You have until the last week of summer, that's about two months from now, before things will be set in motion. By the end of that time, you'll either be dead, or you'll be a member of the Imperial Envoy's escort detail."

  I tipped my hat and drew in a long, deep lungful of hot ghostleaf smoke, "Oh Miss Temperance, I think we both know I'll so much more than any of that. Ain't nothin' but the best for Lorcan Roche."

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Temperance laughed, light and clear, and Tom groaned.

  "Gods let's hope you’re as fast as you are full of yourself. Don't make me remind you there's a reason the Flock is short on youngbloods just like you, son."

  I grinned, and the door swung open behind me.

  "Ain't no other youngbloods like me, grandad."

  Slam.

  I moseyed on out of that old Chantry and back into the world. Slipped from the side streets and joined the flow of life on the main road toward the gates. The sound of low conversation permeated the dusty, heating air. The sun was high overhead and folk were already starting to stick to the shade, some even opting for a nap or otherwise fleeing the heat.

  For me, I didn't mind it none. It was a dry heat, practically refreshing compared to the muggy wet of the Broken Coast. I'd take a day under the blazing sun over ten minutes gettin' bug bit in the swamps back home.

  I took my time, strolling along with the crowd toward the gates, a cigar puffing from my lips. Took a sharp turn toward the tall Guild hall, and shoved on inside.

  A few folk were gathered at tables, having a drink or swapping a tale, while other jostled around the big board and yet more talked and argued with the sharp dressed folk behind the counters. I searched there for my handler, and sure enough, little Miss Tawny caught my eye with a wave.

  The blond half-halfing fixed me with a slightly stern expression as she waved me over, and I could practically feel, well, something radiating off of her. Not just anger, though I could see a little of that, but maybe... anticipation? Excitement?

  "Mister Roche!" she called, and a few sets of eyes fell on me, "Over here, sir!"

  I rolled my eyes. I was already coming girl, hold your damn horses.

  She gave a little huff and a shake of her head, and as I rounded the counter I could see her biting her lip.

  "We have things to discuss," she said in a tight hiss, "you falsified records, Mister Roche."

  Oh.

  Shit.

  My eyes flicked to the door, and then to the folks sat all around. Would they try to stop me if I ran? Would I have better luck going through them bid damn windows rather than-

  "But," she cut my wild thoughts short with a quick clap, "that's fine. We will deal with it. The Guild is willing to overlook small details like that when members produce results. And you sir," her voice cracked a bit and she braided her fingers, "have been quite the performer."

  I relaxed a little and took a step toward the desk, "Yeah, well, you know me Miss Tawny. Uh, well not really but if there's any problems with my paperwork, just I didn't uh-"

  "Don't care. Don't need to know. The Guild master already reviewed and approved an updated file that will preserve your secrets and satisfy our own needs. So, don't worry, Mister Roche, you're golden," she gave a little chuckle, "or you might be. I guess it'll depend on how the meeting goes," she said grabbing my wrist and dragging me around the corner.

  When the tendrils under my glove stirred at the touch she looked back with a little surprise.

  "Uh, sorry," she winced and released me, starin' hard at my hands, no doubt trying to guess what secrets I really had, "come on."

  "Come on what? Hold a sec ma'am," I said stopping in my tracks. I was tired of little women bossing me around. Well, no, I wasn't, but the next haughty order needed to lead to some fun, that was the truth, "where are we goin'?"

  "To the meeting room," she said with a frown, "Roche, you're little trip out into the dunes with the University is a major incident. There are concerns among the higher-ups about your... methods, and the fact that you managed to pull it off at all. And we won't even discuss a certain dead slaver and his missing band of men. The Guild is very interested in you. Very. Interested."

  Damnit. So it wasn't just the Flock who'd have me on a leash then. I was attracting all sorts of powerful eyes and ears lately. Like a dumbass fly caught in two different spider's webs. The only way out of this was through, and if I played my cards right, I supposed it would all be a boon when it was done.

  Shame I was terrible at cards.

  "Lead the way Miss Tawny," I said tipping my hat, "I guess. Next though, can warn me? I ain't even had a bath..."

  "Ah, yeah, I know," she said wrinkling her nose, "but it'll be fine, Roche. They aren't going to kick you out, or arrest you, or anything like that."

  I raised a brow and followed her up the stairs and to a nondescript door.

  "Then why all that talk of 'ifs' and 'mights'? If it's a done deal, then what's with the nerves?"

  She didn't look back as she answered, "Oh, well because if the answers you give are the ones they like, you're getting promoted. And when you get promoted, I as your handler..."

  She let the notion hang and then shoved on through the doors into a smoky, well appointed lounged.

  Two men sat on fancy couches, a table set with whiskey and gin, crystalline glasses and good smokes. The one on the left I recognized easily. Tall, thin, and mustached.

  Professor Clarke stood and offered a hand, as the other feller just sat and took my measure.

  "Roche! I'm so glad you came. Guild Master Alexander and I were just talking about the dig, and about you, young man," at Clarke's words Alexander also stood.

  The man was plain. Or looked so. He head was shaved clean, short beard cut neat. His blue eyes were dull, his features were average, and his body was the picture of an ordinary middle age. But the moment he extended a calloused hand I saw the truth.

  Tendrils of thick mana writhed in the air. I could taste it on my tongue. Feel it vibrating through the fabric of the world.

  An aura.

  One that seemed to whisper death. I was looking at an old reaper, dressed as a city bureaucrat.

  "A pleasure," he said, grasping my hand in a firm and honest shake, "Lorcan Roche, was it? Please, sit. We have things to discuss, you and I."

  I gulped, and Tawny stepped toward the door, quiet and slow, like a mouse afraid of startling the cat.

  "I'm just gonna uh-" she tried to provide before Alexander raised a hand.

  "Thank you Tawny, yes please fetch some lunch. We'll need you in here for the second half of our little conversation, but we have a few private matters to discuss first. Don't worry, boy," he turned to me and patted the seat beside him, "nothing bad. In fact, it'll be good. You're moving up, Lorcan."

  His voice was warm, almost paternal. His face was the picture of sincerity.

  And his eyes were as cold as a winter sun.

  I sat, and for the first time in a while, I was plain intimidated.

  Normally too stupid to ever fear any man.

  But the master of the Augustus' Hope Guild, he'd gone a half step past humanity. That's what happened when you got far along the right sort of Path. Alexander had picked a road like mine, a slow and endless climb, and he'd survived it, very near to the top. Another few years, a decade or two, and he might end up something like Temperance, a Saint or else. High enough on the mountain of power to change the world.

  For better or worse, assuming he didn’t have designs on joining a pantheon instead. So still did that, left this world behind for the greenest pastures of them all.

  "Alright," I said, settling into the plush seat, "let's talk then."

  "Let's," Alexander smiled.

  Clarke scoffed, "Alex, stop it with the damn aura, you're scaring the poor kid."

  Alexander smiled wide, "I just wanted to make sure he really could see it. Didn't believe it when I read your report. Arcane sight is very, very rare. And useful."

  "I can," I admitted, "I can see power on you like a bunch of angry flies on a big old pile of shit."

  Clarke burst into laughter, while Alexander frowned.

  "Not exactly the most flattering description, Mister Roche," the guild master sighed, "but I suppose you aren't wrong. Tell me, what do you think about the Guild? You've only done one job with us, I know, but surely you have some impressions. Some thoughts."

  "I don't trust it," I said flatly.

  "Oh?" Alexander's eyebrows raised.

  I tapped the vest on my chest, "Since you already know I was lyin' about my Path and such, may as well say it before another secret sneaks on out. First time I met a member of the Hunter's Guild was a couple days after I made land," I grabbed for a crystal glass and poured a couple fingers of whiskey. Good stuff, spicy, sweet, light on the nose.

  Good burn too.

  "I was escorting a Mother who'd gotten lost here to town. Guardin' her back while she washed. Thing was," I paused to knock the glass back, savoring the smoky burn. I needed a little liquid courage if I was to be sat to this old monster, "couple of boys from your outfit showed up. Said they was out huntin' monsters, offered to escort us back..."

  Alexander's face fell and a little heat entered those cold, cold eyes, "I'm assuming something went amiss."

  "Oh," I waved a hand, "sure did. They wanted, let's say, too much for the favor. All our gear, and probably something else from my cleric friend."

  "Ah," said Clarke with a solemn nod, "and I take it they didn't make it back to the town."

  I shook my head, "No. They did not. Nor would anyone who asked after that. That was my impression of your organization here in the New World. A farcry from the outfit I always heard of back home."

  Alexander gave a curt nod, chewing his lip, "Sadly, I cannot disagree. There are rotten apples in every barrel, and we have had more than our share of the type. That's what happens when most of the people you bring to colonize are debtors, prisoners, and slaves. For every man like you, Mister Roche," he said and stood, crossing to a cabinet behind the couches and withdrawing a wide, heavy book, "there are a dozen like..."

  "Henry Smith. Clara Strong. Saffir Ravik. Those of the names of the Hunters you so graciously rid my organization of," Alexander slammed the book shut and rounded on me, the faintest hint of his aura slipping from him like a breath.

  The air itself seemed to scream.

  "Seems I owe you a little more than I first thought. I reward those who work to keep my Guild and the city safe, Lorcan. The rotten parts get the boot, and the loyal men get good coin. And you, so far, you are not a rotten man."

  Clarke snorted.

  "Alex, why must you always posture in front of the youth? You don't see me release my Aura just to rustle your damned feathers."

  His Aura?

  I had seen the old battlemage whip out some impressive spells, but I had thought him past prime. A fella who walked just far enough to satisfy the needs of his academic and scholarly pursuits.

  Then again, the old son-of-a-bitch had stared down a Winter Wyrm...

  "Don't worry Professor, I'm not so easy to scare," I said with a shrug, "not after that damned Vault."

  Clarke snapped, "Ah, yes, the Vault. A tragedy. So many lives, so much wealth, wasted. The loss of Yollotli especially hurts. Thank you for being with her and the others when the end came, Lorcan."

  I didn't respond. Instead, I grabbed the bottle and refilled my drink.

  "Yes. I suppose that is the real meat of all this. The Vault. The Vault, and the fact that you, a Greenhorn, walked in there and right back out. Even saved a couple of lives. I've read the reports, Mister Roche, and I have questions."