The apprentices, servants, and the garrison all slept in a single common room. Journeymen slayers were permitted private sleeping cells to use in pairs. Only the master slayers were granted the privilege of solitary rooms somewhere in the fortress. Iosephus slept beneath the library, Lothair's room was adjacent to the kitchens, Diana and Pentarch each had a private chamber in the women’s and men’s dorms respectively.

  Vero heard a catcall as she passed through the dormitory, but when she turned and faced the culprit directly, he declined to say anymore. The sudden retreat drew some laughs from his companions.

  She knocked on Pentarch’s door, it was unlocked and opened. Pentarch let her inside, then closed and locked the door behind her.

  The room was small. There was no free space, only a bed, a long trunk, and a cramped writing desk with a few books atop it. The place smelled strongly of Pentarch. It was a cleaner sort of smell than the dormitories outside, and not totally unpleasant.

  “Sit down.” He motioned her to the chair at the writing desk.

  They were pressed uncomfortably close as she sidestepped past him, but they each found a place to sit once they had space.

  “I’ve asked Isolde to cast divinations and find us a window in the weather to depart through. It won’t be easy crossing to the other side of the mountains in winter, but we know a way through that should be passable. Lothair has already arranged supplies for our excursion.”

  Vero decided to come to her point directly. “The priest Alexius wishes to accompany us.”

  His reaction was predictable. “Absolutely not.”

  “I think we ought to seriously consider the proposal.”

  “This hunt will be difficult enough without introducing an uncontrollable rogue factor.”

  “There are already so many uncontrollable rogue factors, I don’t see one more making a difference. In fact, if this hunt has been planned to fail – as it seems it has – then we must rely on these random factors to have any hope at success.”

  “The way I know is the easiest path through the mountains, but that doesn’t make it easy. Especially not in winter. We shall already need to account for the sorceress, I don’t want to have to carry the priest’s weight as well.”

  “He certainly doesn’t look fit, but you can’t deny that he somehow made it all the way here through the mountains in winter- and he arrived in better shape than I did. I’m confident he’ll hold up alright, and we could use another hand with our party so small as it is. He’s not a slayer, so it won’t violate your orders from the Curia to take him with us. The White Sisters have studied the secrets of death for thousands of years, and I’m sure one of their brothers will have some use when we’re surrounded by vampyres.” Vero believed everything she said, although she still doubted it would be enough to convince Pentarch.

  He paused and considered the matter for a long time. “Very well, I’ll tell Lothair to prepare a fourth pack of supplies.”

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

  “Really?”

  “Your reasoning is sound. I tend to approach problems conservatively, but things are getting desperate and it may be time to start accepting greater risks.”

  She was surprised, but not unpleasantly so. “Well, that’s alright then.”

  “Now, we should come to the reason I called you here.” Pentarch unlocked his trunk with another key from his belt. Vero marked its size and shape, it currently sat two aside from the armory key on the ring.

  He opened the trunk, and removed a longsword from inside. “I took something of yours, it seems only fair that I give you something of mine.”

  Pentarch held the sword out to her.

  Vero took it. The scabbard and grip were both plain leather, but the cross-guard bore markings. It was some form of heraldry, she believed it was probably the crest badge of a Pictish clan.

  “Is this your family?” She pointed at the heraldry.

  “It was. A slayer has no family or titles. You know that.” He sat on the bed and sounded tired.

  There was not room to draw the sword entirely, but she pulled it free far enough to check the quality of the blade. It was different metal than the plain wrought iron cross-guard. She was surprised to see the wave-like mottling, which identified it as oasis steel.

  “Fine workmanship.” She put the sword away and mounted it on her belt.

  “Take good care of it, journeyman. I shall want it returned.”

  “Well, it seems we have something in common then.”

  “More than one thing, I suspect.”

  “This mission is a plot to kill you as well?”

  “There are many members of the Curia who would shed no tears if I also did not return, but that’s not what I meant. It was your father, wasn’t it? Who gave you that hair?”

  Vero’s hand instinctively went to the shock of red over her brow. It was past her eyes; she needed to cut it before they left.

  “That’s right. Mama was Velian.” Vero was not certain why she volunteered the second piece of information. Perhaps to subtly inform him that she also considered herself to be a Velian.

  “Do you know which clan you belong to?”

  “No. Father said he didn’t have a clan any longer. That was why he stayed in the south with us.”

  “I see.”

  “You’re not going to claim to secretly be my grandfather, I hope.”

  He wry smile developed all the way into a complete laugh for once. “I’m not old enough to be your grandfather.”

  “Uncle then.”

  “If we have a relation, it’s not a close one.” He ceased to laugh. “Every member of my former house is already dead.”

  “I’m- sorry to hear that. My parents are dead. My brother as well.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “I don’t want to discuss that.” Vero moved to leave.

  “It was your fault, wasn’t it?” His question brought her up short.

  She spun on him at once. “What do you know about it?!”

  “I know what it’s like to be responsible for the death of someone you care about.” There was no antagonism in his tone, only weariness.

  “They were killed by griffons, bred by a careless and cruel wizard. He neglected them until they escaped. They killed Mama, and Father… and Virgil.”

  He raised an eyebrow hearing her brother’s name, but said nothing of it. “But you could have saved them. If you had been faster. If you had been stronger. Wiser, perhaps.”

  “I was only a little girl! What was I supposed to do?!”

  “Then why do you blame yourself?”

  “Who says that I do?”

  “Your actions do. You would never have made it here if you didn’t have something behind you, driving you onwards. Our profession is not a natural one, it attracts only fools and broken men. And the fools die quickly. I can see that haunted expression you try and hide behind your eyes.”

  “I wanted to see the griffon…” Vero felt her eyes water, but she did not cry.

  “Yes…?”

  “Mama left the church to find me… and…”

  “And she’s that shade your running from? She doesn’t blame you. No one does. But I know that won’t keep you from blaming yourself.”

  Vero felt like all the anger had just bled out of her. Now she only felt as tired as Pentarch sounded.

  She ambled towards the door, but stopped. “Who did you kill, Pentarch?”

  “My daughter.” He said no more, and Vero left the room.

  If you're in a position to support my work financially, I have a , where uncut versions of all publicly released chapters are available at the free membership tier four days early. The paid reward tier list is hidden in spoiler text, with up to 30 chapters and exclusive short stories:

  $3 - 5 early chapters, this tier is available as a one week free trial

  $5 - 10 early chapters

  $7 - 15 early chapters

  $10 - 20 early chapters

  $15 - 30 early chapters + the exclusive short story Apostate

  If you've enjoyed this book you can also leave a rating, review, follow, and/or favorite. Even without an account, you can still support my work just by sharing and recommending this story to anyone else you think might also enjoy it.

  Thank you for reading!