It was dark by the time Coin made it back to Elijah’s estate, by which point the numbing aches of his battle had fully subsided, and he was greeted to a sight that immediately made his heartbeat quicken: A coterie of guards standing to attention just outside, hurriedly conversing and gesturing to the mansion.

  But what was most worrying was the presence of a modest stack just off to one side of the gates. Humanoid figures, frozen in death, each one covered by a long sheet of fabric.

  A dreadful image popped into Coin’s mind, the fear of losing his other friends looming large in his mind. And it was only by the barest threads of logic that he managed to keep himself from overreacting.

  One of the guards who made up the modest crowd, a slovenly fellow who would hardly be trusted to go on an important raid under the city, perked up as Coin approached. “Er, ser, you can’t-”

  “It’s my house,” Coin said, in a tone like brittle ice.

  Another guard nudged his companion. “Yeah, I’ve seen this fella around Arcadia. The slim dark-haired kid who hung around old Elijah. He’s the one who inherited all this.”

  The first guard paled. “Damn. You were lucky you were out when all thus happened. You could have gotten hurt.”

  “What happened?” Coin asked, his unblinking eyes focused on the pile of covered bodies.

  “A group of assassins attacked your home.” Coin’s heart threatened to lurch into his throat, and it felt for a moment as if the world was about to collapse under his feet. “Damn good thing none of the people inside were killed by the attackers.”

  Coin blinked to attention. “W-what?” He nearly collapsed with relief, much of the tension deflating from his shoulders. “Then these are all the assassins? But.. how?”

  “Master Coin!” Leonid’s voice cut through the air like a knife, and Coin swiftly turned to face the young butler. He emerged, with Domajor leaning on his side for support. The taller man looked like he’d only barely won a fight with a meatgrinder. “Thank goodness...”

  “Leonid, Domajor, what... how did...”

  Domajor sighed, closing his eyes. “Those brutes made quite a mess of your home, Ser. Dying was too great a mercy for them.” A few cuts marred his finely tailored suit, revealing bloodied flesh beneath.

  “You.. did this? You protected everyone?”

  “Such is my job, Ser. To protect the home, and all who dwell within. Though I cannot claim victory alone. Lady Essine... ah, it’s perhaps not my place to say.”

  “Essine?” He sniffed the air, and was relieved when he picked up on Essine’s scent not too far from where he stood. “Thank you, Domajor, truly. You’ll be getting paid extra.” He moved past the two and made his way up the garden path, just as a temple healer arrived to tend Domajor’s wounds.

  He found Pearl and Essine seated on a bench outside, the bard gently brushing Essine’s fur. The kobold was in one piece, but she seemed exceptionally tired. She perked up a tad as Coin approached, her ears standing to attention.

  “Well!” Pearl said. “You wouldn’t believe the day we’ve had.”

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  “You’re... all okay? Truly?” Coin asked.

  “Save for Domajor. He took several blows keeping us safe. This one is certain he will be fine, but he will need time to recover.”

  “He didn’t strike me as the type,” Coin admitted.

  “Nor I. But apparently his father was some dreadful criminal, who imparted an abundance of lethal skills onto him. One can’t argue with results.”

  Coin closed his eyes. “I’m... I’m sorry. If I hadn’t been away for so long, I could have helped you.” Who had done this, he asked himself? The Brotherhood? Had they come here looking for him? A grim thought gnawed at the back of his mind. After all, Leona knew full well what he was.

  Elijah’s death, and the subsequent fallout, had distracted him from that fact. But it was all too likely news of his true nature had been spread among their ranks. He tried not to dwell on that fact. He had more pressing concerns.

  “It’s not as if you could have predicted this, Coin. Still... might be wise to beef up security around here, yes?” Pearl said, glancing around the estate.

  “This one doubts they will make the same type of attack twice. Indeed, the deaths of their assassins will likely give them considerable pause.”

  Coin stroked his chin in thought. “Essine... did you use your magic?” he asked.

  The kobold hesitated, her ears lowering and her whiskers twitching. “This one had to. The coldness, the emptiness of it... the sensation truly is dreadful. Yet this one is glad. The power, while profane, can be used for good. Scylla said as much.” She sighed, silently inspecting the backs of her hands. “This one doubts she will ever strive for combat. But this one must learn to grasp this power. To protect those this one holds dear.”

  Coin smiled sadly. “Guess we all have to do our part here.” Inwardly, rage bristled at his conscious thoughts like a rolling thundercloud. Those people had come here to kill him, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that that was the case. And while the assassins themselves were dead, the people who had ordered the hit were out there somewhere.

  And those who had conspired to harm his friends... he’d hunt them with the same tenacity he had used to deal with Valle Irons. They were all dead men living on borrowed time.

  But, for now, Coin chose not to focus on that. He had burned through enough anger for one day. The fact that his friends were all alive was good enough to put a smile on his face, and he let that sense of relief swiftly wash over his body.

  “I’m proud of you. All of you.”

  Essine smiled, glancing away from him. “This one... this one did not do anything special.”

  “You saved all our lives. Don’t be so modest!” Pearl said, letting out a hearty chuckle. “I was a coward throughout. But, then again, I’m no fighter.”

  “Nothing to be ashamed of,” Coin said. He set a hand on each woman’s shoulders. “But I’ll do everything I can to keep you lot safe, going forward. I can’t always be beside you, however. So...” His eyes drifted to Essine. “I know it’s probably not pleasant, but you’ll need to practice with your magic. Just in case.”

  Essine nodded stiffly. “But this type of magic seems incredibly rare. Where could this one even hope to learn more?”

  Coin thought about it for a moment. “Scylla the witch?” he eventually asked.

  “Ah. The sinister, spooky woman,” said Pearl.

  In truth, Scylla was a mystery herself. Coin had no doubt she knew far more than she was letting on, and had her own motivation. But, at the very least, she seemed to be on their side. For the time being, that was good enough for Coin.

  Was she still watching them in secret? He wouldn’t put it past her.

  But there were worse people to be stalked by, he supposed.

  Essine nodded to herself. Her own thoughts were much the same, regarding Scylla as more of an ally than a threat. But, well aware that tat assessment could sharply change depending on what Scylla’s true intentions were.

  “Danger will follow us all the same. This one needs to learn to use this magic, horrible as it may be. So, if we meet Scylla again... she is one to consult.” She looked around herself frantically, as if expecting the witch to emerge from the darkness. “Another time, perhaps.”

  Coin smiled, despite himself. He knew things would get worse before they got better, but at least they were starting to prepare for that eventuality.

  “Well then,” Pearl said, planting her hands on her hips. “What next from here?”

  Essine’s ears flattened. “This chaos may have uprooted our plans a little, but... I believe Elijah’s funeral is soon,” she said.

  “Ah...” Coin turned away from the duo, his gaze affixed to the looming shape of the mansion. Elijah’s legacy in this world. “Yeah. We can’t keep putting that off forever, huh?”

  He understood the importance of funerals, culturally, at least to a degree. It was a sort of ‘goodbye’ to the departed, and Pearl had said it would be good for closure. But, in truth, Coin doubted he would ever understood closure with what had transpired.

  Even with Valle dead, smashed to a pulp, he felt no better about Elijah’s passing. He wanted him back more than words could describe. But he knew, full well, that it was impossible.

  Giving him some kind of farewell was the best he could hope for.