"You were supposed to be here yesterday," said a low gravel voice as something cold and hard was pressed to my neck, "the young master was upset."

  "You can eat my ass you-"

  A heavy, wide hand clapped me on my back, "Got ya! Sorry 'bout that Roche, couldn't help myself. Damn, you're easy to ruffle," Tom said as he twirled a small knife between his fingers. A letter opener, if I was generous. He must've used the rounded back to scare me so.

  "Asshole," I snapped and slapped his shoulder.

  He laughed, "Yeah, maybe. I respect that you chose your last words from my own book, tough stuff son."

  "Shut up," I growled, but Tom wasn't paying no attention, instead the short, soft, and very godsdamned sneaky man was waving to a figure atop the wall.

  "It's fine, Javier. This is the guy we were talking about. He's the one that pulled your bosses ass out the fire. Open up." Tom commanded.

  There was a loud clunk and the massive doors opened wide.

  A dark skinned man, definitely a Coastal Southerner, greeted us on the other side. His uniform was crisp, hair cropped close, face shaven clean. He looked very much the part of an Imperial soldier, but he wore the colors of the Luna clan.

  "Tom," the guard said with a nod, "you fat fuck."

  "Javier," Tom said and extended a hand, "you bean eating, sand flea bitten, donkey humping shit head. How's the wife?"

  "Still fat. Still loves you."

  "She'd be the only one," I muttered.

  Javier laughed, "And it's worse because she's his cousin! Can you believe it? I'm almost related to this pudgy thief. What a shame," Javier said and the two clasped arms, "anyway, Mister Roche, it's a pleasure. You saved the Ernesto, a good, good boy. The clan owes you a great deal. Come on in. You too Tom," Javier muttered, "I guess."

  Tom slapped my back again, "See that Roche? That's what real authority get's you here in town. They treat me like a prince, even if I am just a greasy dock rat."

  "No," I said with a frown, "seems a bit like he's treatin' you just as ya are."

  "Ah, shut up kid," Tom said and socked me in the arm. My tendrils writhed under the glove and sleeve, completely muting the impact. Tom frowned, "No fair."

  "All's fair, ya old bastard," I replied and followed Javier through the wide gates.

  We passed beneath a small tunnel and came into the grounds proper.

  A wide lawn, trimmed neatly and patterned with planters of Old World flowers, surrounded by the whitewashed walls of the home itself. Glass windows, clear glass for some damn reason, rose from floor to ceiling and would've given a good peek right in if not for the curtains and the sun's glare.

  A handful of tasteful statues, depictions of the Chantry gods and the good Saints, were set around the place, while a small fountain bubbled merrily in the center of a large circle drive. A carriage was parked in front of the wide steps, a man dressed in livery standing beside it and waiting patiently. Behind him were a low set of marble steps that lead into the huge double doors of the villa proper.

  All in all the place was a queer mix of militant colonial practicality and Old World excess.

  "Wow," I said, feeling more than a little intimidated by the display. It had looked a lot less fancy from a distance, a lot smaller too. Made me think maybe I didn't really appreciate the size and scope of the wealth that I had seen in Uptown. Like maybe, I was still newer to this big city than I thought.

  "Yes. It is a lovely estate," Javier agreed, "the Master and Mistress, and their many children dwell here. As most of the staff and security. There are actually apartments for us in the western wing. All amenities included. Good food, good pay, even the wives and kids get schooling. That's why you will always find a good man guarding the Luna family."

  "That's, uh, really generous. Seems like a sweet deal. Better than I have at any rate."

  Javier shrugged, "The Luna family is... a unique sort, Mister Roche. Even by the strange standard of Terra Nova, they are different. They have their eccentricities, their secrets, but they are also among the few wealthy families that have taken care of their people. That is why I am a loyal servant," Javier stopped and turned to face me, "it would do you well to remember, Mister Roche, that you are not a Hunter here. You are a guest, and while your actions have earned the clan's respect, you would be wise not to forget that you still overstep. Please, do not."

  I nodded, a little taken aback by the man's sudden, stern, demeanor, "Don't worry. I won't cause no trouble. If I were here to cause harm, I'd have just posted high with a longgun and taken my shot," I said with a grin.

  Javier gave a single, hard nod, and then motioned toward the house, "Yes. That is a vulnerability I have often brought up with the master. One that is solved better than it appears. Anyway, Tom, I assume you are here to see Ernesto as well?"

  Tom smiled and gave the man a nod, "Yes, yes I am. The Saint wanted someone to extend her personal regards to the scion. Roche here is just my cover story."

  "Right. I doubt the Master's stance on your organization will change much, but he has not forbidden contacts. So long as you remain discreet, and do not attempt to bring the Saint's troubles into the Luna clan's home, he is willing to permit a meeting," Javier explained as we crossed the grass, our boots crunching on the stone path, "that is the deal."

  Oh of course the Flock had already been here. Already dug fingers into this juicy pie. Made me wonder if Tom and Tempy's tension over whether to quash Ernesto's bragging after me was real, or manufactured to sell some scheme. Seemed like I'd wandered onto a gameboard that had already been in play.

  As fuckin' usual. If I didn't know they was working toward some good, I might be quite tired of all the pussyfootin' and politickin'. But I guessed if the end result was an end to slavery in the New World, or at least this city, then I could stomach a bit more of the shit.

  I wasn't loyal enough to the Flock, Tempy, or Tom to stop asking questions or makin' notes though. If my debt to the Saint put me in deep enough shit, I'd turncoat faster than a Southern merchant at gunpoint.

  We mounted the steps and entered the house.

  I expected opulence, and was not disappointed. The foyer was a huge chamber, with a tall ceiling and a grand staircase at the back. The walls were lined with the heads of mighty beasts and the floors covered in thick rugs, the air smelled faintly of lavender and citrus. A woman in a maid's dress met us in the entryway and gave a curtsy.

  Her skin was ash, eyes a vibrant yellow, long pointed ears peeking out of a dark mane of curls.

  An Outsider.

  I shot Javier a questioning glance.

  "A paid member of the family," he offered immediately, "the Luna family is very much opposed to the practice of slavery. The Master and Mistress are firm believers in the Chantry's official doctrine on the topic."

  I nodded. That should've been obvious. Ain't no way the Flock would play nice with a slaver, no matter how rich or important. Not without planning for his eventual, painful end.

  "Good morning, Master Luna and Miss Della are taking tea and pastries in the east gardens. Would you like me to announce your arrival?"

  "Nah," Tom said and waved, "We're friends. It'll be fine," he clapped me on the back and shoved me forward, "junior here though, he has a playdate with the young Master. Be a doll and make sure he doesn't get lost, okay?" Tom's smile smile was so damn greasy I feared the fat man's teeth might just slip off his face.

  "Of course. Right this way, sir."

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Javier gave me a nod and moved deeper into the home with Tom. I heard the muffled start to a whispered conversation, but couldn't catch any details.

  "I heard of you, Mister Roche," said the Outcast maid in heavily accented common, "Ernesto speaks of you often."

  "Good things, I hope?"

  "Yes. He and the new arrivals to the Luna family are quite fond of the xoxoctic-oquichtli, the Green Caballero. Green Knight, I think is the Common translation."

  It touched a hand to my vest and nearly laughed, "Wait a second, Shorty's name really means green?"

  "Your friend is named Xoxoctic? if so yes, why is that funny?" she asked with a little frown.

  I waved, "Well, Shorty got some mutations, like me," I touched a finger to my unnaturally green right eye, "but she's covered in red scales see. So, it's kind of like... uh," I shrugged, "I'm sorry ma'am. I don't know."

  She nodded thoughtfully, "It's likely that the subtlety of the name is to blame. It xoxoctic can refer to a sprout, as much as the color."

  "Guess it makes a little sense for the both of us then. She's short, like a sprout, and for some damn reason the world decided green was my favorite color."

  Green vest, dark green coat, bright green eyes. Couple more Steps on my Path, maybe my skin would turn green too.

  Gods I hope not.

  The maid smiled, her mouth full of sharp teeth, "It is a nice name for others to give. The Green Man in our traditions is a respected figure. A forest guide, of sorts. Trickster to the wicked and guardian to the weak. And green, it is the color of your mana, Mister Roche."

  I stopped short. I had never seen my own mana, hell I barely felt it inside myself. I knew it was there, like a weight or a presence.

  "You got mana sight?" I asked, deeply curious now.

  "Of course," she replied with a shrug, "it's an uncommon talent, but my Path led me to it. My name is Esmee Della Luna, by the way," she said and extended a hand.

  I took it, "Lorcan, Lorcan Roche if you like, hunter, killer, and green knight sometimes, I guess. It's nice to meet you, Esmee. Can't help but notice your name is, uh, Outcast."

  "Tlaxol is the actual name of our tongue. You would pronounce it tla-shool," she said, "and I changed my name when I was married to Master Luna's fourth son. It is a bit of a tradition among my people, though normally only the second name is exchanged. A sign that we are truly accepted into a new family. And all within these walls are family," she said that last bit with no small amount of pride, and I found myself smiling despite the strangeness of it all.

  Sounded real nice.

  "I'm startin' to think pull Ernesto out of that crate the Hartwell gang stuffed him in really was the best thing I've done in while. If I'd known it'd have ended up with me makin' so many friends," I chuckled and shook my head, "never would've done it."

  Esmee blinked and her lips curled, "You have a cruel sense of humor, Mister Roche. But I can see it is only surface deep. You can save your tricks and lies for those who do not possess the Sight. Come, little Ernesto is expecting you."

  I frowned, and decided I did not gettin' read like some tawdry pulp novel, "Damn, you're no fun..."

  "Fun is not my concern, Mister Roche. My place in the family is to protect, and that is what I do."

  "Wait... But you're wearin' a made outfit, I though Javiar and the boys on the wall were guards..."

  She grinned, so wide, so sharp, I could feel my tendrils quiver in response. She was pushing aura out, not much, not a tenth of what Alexander had shown me the two days before, but enough to neatly demonstrate the gulf between us, "You are not the only one who can wear a mask. Now come. Ernesto is in the back garden, and he is quite eager to see you. I will bring refreshments."

  Well. Alrighty then. Point made, ma’am.

  She led me through a series of wide halls to what felt like the back of the expansive villa. We walked out through a glass paned door into a stone paved courtyard quite a bit less lavish than the first. While there was still plenty of expensive decorations, pretty flowers, marble statues, and a fountain, the place had a decidedly more functional bent.

  At the center was a pit of sand, about thirty paces or so across. Comfortable furniture designed for outdoor use was scattered around the edges. Children, most of them Outcast, but more than a few of Southern and mixed heritage, watched the action in the sand.

  Two men, garbed in heavy white coats and blank masks dueled each other with long, slender swords. More than a few hits had already been scored, judging by the red that stained them both.

  The fighter on the left was slim, fast on his feet, and about a head shorter than his opponent, who I guessed was Ernesto. The smaller fighter had the broad Southern boy on his back foot, jabbin' at him with the red soaked tip.

  Never was much for sword fightin', seemed impractical in the modern age, with the commonality of fire arms and the easy access to cantrip runes and wands and the like. But watching this dance, seeing the two fighters twist and twirl, parry and riposte, made me a fan. I was kind of hoping one of the men would get real fancy, do some of them sword arts that the stories talk about.

  You could channel mana into lifeforce, burn it to enhance physical attacks the same way my Ice-Cold Blood could burn mine to heal me up or staunch a weeping wound. Or, of course, you could just pump that same power into a runed pistol shot and blast a hole clean through a man's face at a hundred paces.

  Pretty, but as the fight drew to a close, the small fighter easily disarming my acquaintance, I couldn't help but think Ernesto would be better served by a high caliber gun.

  The small fighter took his mask and Ernesto did the same as they faced each other and dipped into a bow.

  Ernesto's dueling partner was a... strange lookin' fella. Not cause he was ugly or badly scarred, quite the opposite in fact. His features were almost delicate, skin a warm, dark brown, with a dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks. The curve of his jaw was soft, that plus his long hair and shaved face, and a set of full lips and wide, dark eyes, made him a bit pretty.

  "Who's that?" I muttered as the two men spoke, likely discussing the bout.

  "Oh, him?" Esmee replied and looked at the duelist, "that's my eldest, Rapheal Luna. He trains the children and keeps them fit, in addition to his duties as a guard."

  I gave her a long look. Miss Esmee didn't look a hair over thirty. Yet she had a grown son? How the hell old was this woman? Did Outcasts maybe age like the smallfolk, halflings?

  Maybe.

  But thankfully, I wasn't dumb enough to ask. Mama taught me to never ask a woman's age, and while Esmee might not be the usual sort of woman, the kind I knew anyway, it didn't seem like a safe thing to test.

  "Auntie!" Ernesto said, finally tearing his eyes from the man he'd been fighting, "and oh!"

  The young merchants son's face split into a grin and he started moving fast through that deep sand. Real fast, arms wide.

  "Mister Roche!"

  No, no, no…

  He came at me like a runaway wagon, an unexpected and completely undesired embrace, I stumbled backward a couple steps as the boy wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. To say that I was uncomfortable having another man, especially a sweat, bloody and far too excited one, pressed against me would be an understatement.

  My tendrils writhed under my glove and coat, and it took all my willpower to keep a hand off my guns.

  Things go desperate when he lifted me up, laughed in my ear like we was childhood sweethearts, and squeezed the breath right out of me.

  "Put me down! Godsdamnit put me down!" I finally shouted as the boy spun me around once.

  Esmee stared on, her hand coverin' her face, but failing to hide the crinkles of practiced laughter at the sides of her pretty eyes. For his part Ernesto look plain shocked as he dropped me took a step back, eyes flicking from me to, well I guess his aunt.

  "M-Mister Roche, are you alright?" he asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

  "I would say so," came a cultured and rich voice from the sands, "you just charged a guest like a bull in heat, and then you manhandled him. Is that how a student of mine shows respect to his benefactors?"

  "Uh, no, sir. No it is not," Ernesto said and bowed low, his face a shade of embarrassed red, "forgive me, please, Mister Roche. I did not mean offense."

  "I ought to make you take a few dozen laps around the estate, young man," said Esmee's son as he drew near, lips pressed in a line, "but I understand Mister Roche, I suspect I'd only be wasting your guest's time, if he's indeed come to see you. So instead, I'll give you a warning," said the smaller duelist, poking the back of Ernesto's thigh as we walked past to wash his face in the fountain.

  "Yes, sir. I understand, sir," the young merchant scion agreed and turned his attention back to me, "sorry again, Mister Roche. I suppose a greeting like that is unlikely to be common for a hunter like you."

  I shook my head, "Yeah."

  I did not like being hugged. Not by anyone that wasn't lover or kin. And I hated being picked up. Wasn't often that I got a reminder I was a runt. Normally I acted big enough that folks tended not to notice, but Ernesto's enthusiasm and foot of extra height made the fact damn hard to miss.

  "Anyway," interrupted the dueling teacher, "my name is Raphael Della Luna," he said, extending a calloused, ungloved hand, "and you must be Mister Lorcan Roche. A pleasure," he said as we shook, honest and firm. He looked me in the eye, and I did the same to him. "Now that, Ernesto, is how you greet another man. Especially if you wish to impress him."

  Ernesto looked sheepish, but nodded, "Thank you, cousin."

  "It is fine, Ernie," Raphael said and gave him a nod, "now that the pleasantries are done, I believe you have a letter addressed to my family from an associate of mine?"

  What? Last I checked I wasn't no damn courier so what did he-

  Ah. Alexander's letter?

  I fished the sealed envelope from the pocket of my coat, a bit crumpled, and a bit sweat stained, but still very much intact. I hadn't even intended to give it at all, didn't need no damn introduction or whatever, but here I was doing just that.

  "Here ya go," I said and passed it to the soft featured man.

  A pause as he read. Ernesto took the moment to wash his own hands and face.

  "Ah. I see. So you've chosen to forgo the momentary reward my family offered on Ernesto's behalf," the man said as he looked up and gave a warm grin, "and have exchanged it for the training under me. Wonderful!"

  My face fell.

  Reward? Ernie had mentioned one for-

  But I didn't exchange shit.

  It slowly dawned on me as I stared like an idiot. I had bargained for a trainer in exchange for taking Alexander's deal with the Hunter's Guild. I had thought it would be free. Or at least out of the Guild Master's pocket.

  I had thought wrong.

  Mother. Fucker.