Dahlia and the witch dragged themselves away from the edge and staggered wordlessly into the conductor’s compartment. The emberling put her back to the wall, suddenly sure that without additional support her legs would collapse underneath her. The shock of everything that had just occurred began to crest over her as the adrenaline drained away, leaving her feeling cold and shaky. 

“…He’s dead.” Dahlia said to herself, only half aware she had even spoken the words aloud. “Cylde is dead.”

The goblin turned from her examination of the control console to give Dahlia an aloof glance out of the corner of her eye. She had managed to compose herself quite quickly, her small hands already fiddling idly with the puzzle box, turning the columns this way and that in a ceaseless rhythm. 

“The tattooed one, yes?” She made a face somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. “Good friend of yours?”

Dahlia’s head snapped up, a bit too quickly. “What? N-no, of course not. The great and terrible Dahlia Scratch has no friends, he was…simply a very useful minion.” She dipped her head toward her chest, crossing her arms. “Now all the resources I put into his training have gone to waste.”

The witch’s gaze lingered a moment before she turned away. “Probably just as well. He was going to betray you anyway.”

Dahlia’s expression clouded. “What?”

“You’ll forgive me for eavesdropping, but the lot of you were trying to murder me at the time.” She tapped one of her ears with a claw. “You also shout a lot.”

“No, I mean…it’s…” Dahlia stammered, “Cylde wasn’t going to betray me. He was…he was one of my most trusted minions! Sure, maybe we had our, er, disagreements on strategy from time to time, but-“

“Pardon me, but are you an idiot?” The witch turned her attention momentarily away from the puzzle box to give Dahlia another flat look.

Dahlia felt her brow furrow, muscles clenching at the back of her jaw. “No.”

“The man questioned your every decision. Called your leadership into doubt again and again, and not without contempt.” She turned away, resuming her work on the puzzle box. “It was obvious he wanted your crew for himself. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“…We could have figured things out.” Dahlia said darkly, looking away. 

The goblin shrugged. “Whatever you say, love. Either way, you’re better off, trust me.”

“Trust you?” Dahlia pushed away from the wall, feeling less and less her usual cheery self by the moment. “Aside from the one who ruined my heist and broke up my crew, I don’t even know who you are.”

“Oh, please. The only thing I did was be a better thief than you.” She flashed a decidedly unkind smile. “And believe me, it wasn’t about to be a close competition.”

Dahlia eyed the puzzle box – the last thing standing between her and the Opus Key. Aside from the goblin herself, of course. Her fingertips dug into the palms of her hands. 

“Well. It’s just you and me, now.” Dahlia said, locking eyes with the smaller woman. “Maybe I ought to try my luck one more time.”

The goblin’s expression barely flickered, but her eyes grew undoubtedly colder all the same. A dagger had appeared in her off hand at some point. “You’re welcome to try whatever you like.” She said in a dangerously soft voice. 

They stared each other down for a long moment, the steady klak klak of the tracks below rising to fill the otherwise heavy silence. Finally Dahlia’s shoulders drooped and she slumped back against the wall, letting herself slide down into a sitting position on the floor. 

“I think I’ve had enough fighting for today.” Dahlia said quietly. “I’m…just kinda tired.”

A look of mild surprise passed momentarily over the goblin’s face – she slid the dagger back into its hiding place in her sleeve and turned away. “Hm. Wise choice.”

Dahlia crossed her arms over her knees, turning her head to look out across the rushing countryside. “What do we do now?”

The goblin gave her an amused look. “We?”

“I mean – we made it through a lot, just now. You helped me back there, I figured… we’re at least, I dunno, acquaintances?” Dahlia made a sheepish face. “In this together, y’know?”

An exasperated sigh. “I didn’t help you, Dahlia.”

“What? Sure you did. Back there with the, you know, the big guy.”

The witch pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “Gods, it’s like kicking a puppy. We aren’t friends because we both managed not to die while in proximity to one another. You’re my distraction, love.”

Dahlia blinked. “Huh?”

“You see all this, here?” She stepped to one side, indicating the various levers and dials behind her. “With the conductor so dearly departed, everything here defaults to automatic. Enchanted mechanisms, all the rage these days. In other words, there is nothing that we can do to divert this train’s route or even slow it down until it reaches its predetermined destination. Given that the entire rest of the train is conspicuously missing, we won’t even have the element of surprise before this cabin is swarmed with city Watch.” The goblin paused to spin a few of the puzzle box’s columns back and forth, more or less randomly to Dahlia’s eyes. “When that happens, they will find a lone hijacker – yourself – as well as the corpse of the tragically murdered conductor. Should give me plenty of time to make myself scarce, I think.” She gave a patronizing smile. “And you plenty of time mouldering in a dungeon to rethink your career choices. Everybody wins.”

Dahlia just stared at her. 

“Oh, don’t give me that look.” The goblin scrunched her face into a pouty little scowl. “Better that than a red smear on the deck back there, if you ask me. Or what, did you think that was all out of the goodness of my heart?”

“N-no, I just…” Dalia said sheepishly, putting her palm to the floor beside her. “Maybe out of, er, mutual villainous respect…”

The goblin gave a single, haughty laugh. “Respect! Dahlia, you are a treat, really. Honestly, I think I’ll be doing you a favor getting you locked away somewhere. You’d be dead within the week, otherwise. I mean, they’ll likely still execute you, but-“

There was a small metallic click. The goblin looked down at her hands, eyebrows raising fractionally – the puzzle box had expanded, individual tiles pulling away from one another as the mechanism unlocked.

“Ah, and would you look at that.” She continued, reaching up to poke a claw into the newly revealed inner framework. With her attention focused entirely on thy box, the witch did not notice Dahlia’s lips begin to move – nor did she witness the warm orange glow that seeped into the deck from the emberling’s palm, fading to nothing an instant later. “Didn’t think it would be so easy, truth be told.”

The box emitted another series of ratcheting clicks as the outer shell folded and shifted in her hands. Finally its upper half split along a vertical seam, either side hinging away to reveal the contents. Dahlia’s expression went wide in anticipation of finally laying eyes on what she and so many other Villains had attacked the train to get their hands on – the Opus Key. The artifact that would guide them to the greatest treasure of the old world.

Sitting on a red velvet cushion built into the bottom of the box was what appeared to be a human skull, dry and clean with age. The skull had been decoratively gilded, curling patterns of gold adorning its cheekbones and teeth, with a larger golden cap affixed to the upper portion by way of repair – whether it had originally been crushed in or cut away, a significant chunk was missing from the top of the skull.

Dahlia jumped to her feet in excitement, prompting the goblin to take a quick step back, swiveling her shoulders to hold the box out of Dahlia’s reach. Quick as a thought, she had her dagger out again and pointed in the emberling’s direction.

Dahlia held her palms up in a posture of surrender. “Okay, okay. I wasn’t gonna try anything, I just – that’s it, right? That’s the Key? I was thinking it was going to be a little bit more… y’know, key-shaped.”

The goblin rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure you did.” Carefully, she set aside the opened puzzle box and extracted the skull, cradling it in her palms as she turned it back and forth, inspecting the surface. 

“There’s an inscription here.” She muttered, mostly to herself. “Don’t recognize the language…”

“Want me to take a peek?” Dahlia said, angling her upper body ever so slightly closer without actually moving her feet. 

The goblin gave her a withering look. “No.”

A shuddering jolt shook the cabin, immediately followed by a grinding metallic shriek rising from somewhere beneath their feet. The sound began to rise in intensity, intermittent vibrations thrumming unhealthily through the floor alongside it. 

“What in all the-” The witch’s head whipped back and forth, searching in vain for some obvious source of the malfunction. “What in the Hells is going on?!”

“Right!” Dahlia said cheerfully, “About that. Remember just a second ago, when you were talking about, you knooow, getting away with the Key by serving me up to the city guard on a silver platter and all that?”

The goblin glared daggers at her. 

“Whe-hew, if looks could kill, right? Aaanyway, that all sounds like a pretty sweet deal for you, less so for me.” Dahlia grinned as another massive shudder shook the train, nearly taking their feet out from under them. “So I went ahead and took the liberty of melting the wheels.”

Fury slowly morphed into bewilderment on the goblin’s face, lips slackening, eyes going wide. 

“You WHAT?!”

The train bucked, seeming to jump into the air momentarily before the entire cabin skewed to one side. The sound of tortured metal went from merely loud to ear-splitting from one second to the next; out the open back of the car, a fountain of sparks could now be seen erupting from the tracks below. Both women had their feet abruptly taken out from under them – Dahlia felt herself slam to the deck with bone-bruising force and bounce toward the back of the car, armor wedging her in place between the floor and wall before she could careen out into empty air. She looked up to see the goblin scrambling on hands and knees, skull rolling away from her along the floor’s crooked new cant. 

“SHOULD START SLOWING DOWN ANY SECOND NOW!” Dahlia shouted, straining to be heard over the sound of shredding machinery. 

The goblin dove to catch her prize, clutching it against her stomach as she turned to look at Dahlia with wild, hateful eyes. “YOU’VE KILLED US BOTH, YOU STUPID-”

All of creation jumped sideways, exploded, and went black. 

An endless blue sky, speckled with the lightest scattering of clouds. The boughs of a tree, leaves wushing in the light summer breeze. The acrid tang of distant smoke, stinging her nostrils. 

Nil blinked, the realization that she was awake and alive dawning slowly, like the waves of a warm ocean lapping at her feet. She pushed an elbow into the earth and made an attempt at sitting up, then groaned at the deep ache settling into her ribs. 

She eased herself gently back down, savoring the soft embrace of the grass. It felt as if someone had tossed her into a barrel and kicked it down a mountain or two, but she was alive. And how did we manage that, as a point of fact?

Nil perked her ears up, listening intently. The rustling leaves above seemed at first to be the only thing breaking the silence, but then she heard it: the crackling of distant flames, the tick-tick-tick of cooling metal. 

“Heyyy, look who’s awake!” Said a now-familiar voice. 

The goblin shot to her feet, the pain in her side forgotten until it almost doubled her over from the sudden movement. She grimaced, clutching her ribs. 

“Whoah, slow down a little, huh?” Dahlia said. The emberling sat some dozen feet away, her back to the tree that sheltered them from the sun. “We both got thrown around pretty hard in the crash – you’re probably a little banged up.”

“You idiot girl.” Nil hissed through clenched teeth. “What the hell did you do?!”

“Oh, well, it was like I said.” Dahlia said brightly. “Slagged the wheels. See, in my head what was gonna happen is they’d go all mushy and eventually just sort of weld to the track.” She wagged a finger in the air. “Not so much. Lot more cracking and rupturing than I expected – one of the axles just about tore itself clean in half. Gotta keep that in mind the next time I’m-”

“Shut up!” Nil shouted. She went for a step toward the emberling and staggered. “Just stop. Talking. What you’re describing is nonsensical, unless you’re a mage. Are you a mage?!”

“Me? Nahhh, just got a trick or two up my sleeve, is all.”

It was at this point that Nil realized what Dahlia held in her hands. She felt her vision go red at the edges. 

“That’s mine.” She snarled. “Give it back.”

“Oooh, sorry miss lady, no can do.” Dahlia pushed herself to her feet, tossing the gilded skull leisurely from one hand to the other. “Guess I was the better thief after all, huh?”

Nil’s hand groped blindly for her spellbook – it was gone, as was her dagger. Too late, she noticed her belt looped over Dahlia’s shoulder, the book hanging from its latch. 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” The emberling pulled what appeared to be a genuinely apologetic frown. “You seem like a pretty serious customer, so while I was dragging you off the train I figured I oughtta limit the methods you had to, y’know, murder me once you woke up.”

“The train…?”

Nil finally turned to look behind her. Some ways off – much too far for her to have been thrown free by the crash – lay the burning remnants of the engine car. It had ended up on its side after jumping the tracks, a long furrow of mulched grass and dirt behind it where the vehicle had skidded across the plain. Something inside exploded as Nil watched, sending a fresh plume of flame into the sky. 

“You…pulled me out of there?” She whipped around to glare at Dahlia. “Why?”

The emberling made a noncommittal gesture. “I mean, I just got my nemesis. Kinda anticlimactic to let you just lie there and burn to death on the same day, right?”

Nil stared at her, nearly slack-jawed. “Insane.” She muttered, a touch of disbelief in her voice. “You’re completely insane. Give me the skull.”

“Nope! Sorry, can’t help ya.” Dahlia hopped a few paces away, refusing to let Nil close the distance. “See, whatever your reasons for wanting to get your hands on the Opus, I can ab-so-lutely guarantee you that mine are one hundred thousand percent more vile and depraved. Plus – and you’re really gonna hate this,” She tapped a finger on the back of the skull, “I actually can read this inscription.”

“That’s a lie.” Nil said, eyes narrowing. 

“Nuh-uh, cross my blackened little heart. Here, watch.” She pressed her finger to the skull’s surface and took a breath. 

“Dahlia,” Nil said, instinctively reaching out as if she could stop what was about to happen through sheer force of will, “don’t you dare-”

The sounds that came from Dahlia’s mouth could only be called words by way of approximation; there were discrete consonants and vowels, certainly, but Nil’s ears seemed to refuse the premise of putting them together into particular groups. Even the movement of Dahlia’s lips was hard to follow. On top of that, it was not entirely the emberling’s voice creating the sound – it was part of the equation, but most definitely not the whole of the choir of half-voices seeming to rumble from beneath their feet. 

And then it was over, the buzzing susurration fading into the background of Nil’s consciousness as Dahlia swooned slightly on her feet. 

“Whew! That’s infernal script, alright.” Dahlia said. “Always sort of…takes it out of you.” She looked down, a surprised expression dawning on her face. “Hey. Ow.”

Nil scuttled closer, angling for a better look at any effect the incantation might have had. At first, nothing seemed to have happened, until she noticed the thin trickle of blood running down the side of Dahlia’s hand. The skull’s lower jaw had snapped shut on the emberling’s thumb, just enough to break the skin. 

“Dahlia,” Nil said slowly, “That was a very foolish thing you just did, and I would advise extreme caution for the immediate future. No sudden movements, am I clear?”

Only Dahlia’s eyes and mouth moved, the rest of her body held near comically still. “Uh-huh. Yeah.”

“Now. Do you have any idea as to the purpose of the incantation you just read?”

A sheepish grin. “Uh…no.”

“Fantastic.” Nil’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You should consider yourself very fortunate to not currently be a cloud of vaporous particles. Now, in case you were suddenly inclined to listen to me, I would ask that you slowly, and carefully-”

The skull coughed.

Dahlia let out a startled yelp, almost losing hold of the relic – after a few heart-stopping moments of clumsily half-juggling the thing, she managed to get ahold of it again.

“What? Where…?” A pair of ghostly glowing orbs sprang into existence where the skull’s eyes would have been – it spoke in the creaking, dusty voice of an elderly man. “I… By the gods. By the gods! Unhand me at once, hellspawn!”

“It’s talking. Miss witch, the Key is talking.” Dahlia shot Nil a panicked look, holding the skull out straight-armed as if it might bite her again. “Is there something I should be doing?!”

“Damnable woman,” the skull went on, “what art thou blathering about? Where am I…?”

“If I were to make a guess, the most likely answer is that we are currently speaking with the soul of whoever this skull originally belonged to.” Nil took a few steps closer, examining the relic with a wary eye.

The skull jerked in Dahlia’s hands, turning towards Nil seemingly of its own accord. “A goblin! Avanaeus preserve us, what sort of vile cabal…” The skull trailed off. “What… What the devil art thou wearing?”

Nil looked down at herself, finding nothing more than the dress she had put on that morning – give or take a few tears and smudges. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“And…speaking the common tongue!” The skull’s voice had grown breathy and quiet, disbelieving. It turned back to Dahlia, moving as if guided by an invisible neck. “Thou, emberling. Explain the situation at once. And by all the divinities, I shall not command thee again to unhand me!“

“I mean, I would, really,” Dahlia said, “but I think you might…uh, break.”

“A nightmare.” The skull muttered. “Some ghastly illusion, where the children of discord speak naught but nonsense.”

“Oh, and one quick thing – not an emberling, actually, I’m a d-“

The skull suddenly rotated vertically, turning its gaze toward the ground, and screamed. This time Dahlia did lose hold of it, tossing the relic into the air as if it had suddenly grown scalding hot in her hands. The skull bounced gently against the soft grass, immediately reorienting itself to spin back and forth in a panic.

“Abominable creatures!” It shrieked, “What is the meaning of this? What hast thou done to me?!”

“Calm down, old man.” Nil said testily, putting her hands on her hips. “We have done nothing to you, save for freeing you from your miniature coffin. Get ahold of yourself.”

The skull turned to Nil, beginning to vibrate with impotent rage. “How dare thee address me with such impertinence, thou…thou…” Its jaw went slightly slack, the feverish light in its eyes dimming. “No, I…it cannot be, I was only just…” 

Nil and Dahlia exchanged an uncomfortable glance as the skull’s voice dropped to a nearly inaudible mumble – it seemed to be having some sort of psychotic break. Was this really meant to guide anyone to the Opus? Some half-crazed ancient undead?

“Hey, hey little buddy.” Dahlia crouched near the skull, speaking softly. “Just try and take things slow, okay? I think maybe you’ve been…uh, asleep for a pretty long time.”

The skull shook itself and glared up at her. “Patronize me not, devil-kin. I have…begun to remember. And I am not thine ‘little buddy’. Mine name is Augustus Quontifex Philorium the Third, cleric of Avanaeus, and I…” He faltered, deflating. “…I am slain.”

“And here I was, thinking you looked the very picture of health.” Nil said dryly. 

Augustus shot her a hateful look before turning back to Dahlia. “The binding ritual – that which awakened me. ‘Twas thine doing, was it not?”

“Was it?” Dahlia said. “I didn’t really do much…”

“There is no use in deception, hellspawn. Thine lifeblood yet stains mine teeth. The binding is complete – I can sense it.”

Dahlia clapped her hands together. “Well! That’s great, then. Just one question, this binding ritual of yours. It entails…what, exactly?”

Augustus stared at her in silence for a few seconds, his fleshless expression unreadable. “Dost thou mean to suggest…thou conducted the ritual inadvertently?”

“That is precisely what she means to suggest.” Nil interrupted. “Miss Dahlia here has a habit of acting first and thinking later.”

“Even so, how couldst thee possibly…” Augustus shook himself. “It matters not. Thou, hellspawn. Dahlia? This is thine name?”

“That’s me!” The emberling jammed a thumb against her breastplate. “Dahlia Scratch, the great and terrible, bane of all things pure and innocent!” She crouched again, sticking out an arm as if to shake Augustus’ nonexistent hand. “At your service.”

The skull stared at her palm in obvious horror. “Thou art…a Villain?” He said weakly.

“Darn right!” Dahlia popped up to her full height, striking a triumphant pose. “The very worst kind. Not a shred of mercy in this sin-blackened old ticker of mine.” She knocked a fist against her chest, grinning. “And now that I’ve got you, Auggie, there ain’t nothin’ left to stop me. They are gonna have to invent new words for the cruelties I shall inflict on the mortals of this realm!”

“That’s quite enough of that.” Nil said, stepping forward. “I am taking the Key, Dahlia, and now that you have so kindly activated it, I have little use for you any longer.” Reaching to the inside of her thigh, the goblin drew forth yet another dagger, albeit smaller than the first. 

“Oh mannn,” Dahlia groaned. “You had two of those? I knew I should have searched you better.”

“Yes, well, you didn’t, because you’re an idiot.” Nil wagged the blade threateningly. “Now step away from the skull.”

“It will avail thou naught, goblin.” Augustus said miserably. “Thou hast no hope to harness mine purpose.”

Nil didn’t take her eyes off of Dahlia. “We’ll see about that.”

“Only the Master canst put me to use.” He went on. “Test it, if thou must. Grasp these old bones of mine.”

The goblin hooked a glance over her shoulder, eyes narrowing. Keeping her weapon leveled at Dahlia, she stepped back and bent one knee, stooping to scoop the skull up with her free hand. Rather than the rough ridge of bone she expected, however, Nil’s fingers felt only a strange, frictionless lack of sensation. Resistance, yes – her hand stopped as if pressing against something unyielding – but nothing more. 

Confused, she turned her head enough to see the skull out of the corner of her eye and tried again. Again, her fingertips simply stopped, sliding smoothly away when she applied further pressure. She shot Dahlia a hostile glance – the emberling only shrugged in response. 

Nil slid her dagger back into its hiding spot and gave Augustus her full attention, firmly pressing both hands to either side of his skull. Now she could clearly see her palms glide along the surface, as if the skull had been coated with some sort of impossibly effective lubricant. 

She snarled with frustration. “What sort of spell is this?!”

“It is as I warned thee. Only the Master of the binding may even touch mine remains, now.” Augustus said. “Hellspawn. If thou wouldst.”

“Oh! Me?” Dahlia hesitated, giving Nil an uncertain look. “You aren’t gonna, y’know, stab me or anything, are you?”

“Just pick up the damn thing.” Nil snapped. 

“Okay, okay.” Dahlia stooped and lifted the skull without any apparent difficulty. “Oh! Neat.”

Nil’s teeth clenched until it felt as if her molars would crack. “Damn it! To the hells with all of this!” She spun, stalked a few paces through the grass, spun back. “I had everything perfectly under control until you came along, and now… raagh!” Her claws came up to rake through her hair, significantly mussing her painstakingly sculpted curls.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, pinching the bridge of her nose between a thumb and forefinger. “Fine. It doesn’t matter. You! Dead man.” Nil leveled a claw at Augustus. “You said only the Master could harness your purpose. What purpose is that, exactly?”

The skull turned up his nose – or would have. “Thou hast no power over me, goblin. I am compelled only by the Master.”

“… that’s me, right?” Said Dahlia. 

Augustus gave a world-weary sigh. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Good, because I actually wanna know the same thing she does.”

The skull ground his teeth together for a moment. “As such,” he finally said through a clenched jaw, “I am compelled. Thou seekest the Opus, yes?”

Dahlia rolled her eyes. “Us and every other Villain in the world, yeah.”

“And I wouldst sooner burn in the Hells a thousand eternities than to deliver that dread relic into the hands of one such as thee.” Augustus’ dusty voice brimmed with venomous scorn. “Nonetheless. If thou wilt follow mine guidance, I have no choice but to lead you to the scattered Pieces, by which the Opus might be made whole again.”

“That is exactly what I hoped you’d say, Auggie.” Dahlia said, snapping her fingers. “I think you and I are gonna get along just fine.”

“Merciful Avanaeus,” the skull said under his breath, “I beg thee, smite me now.”

“I am coming with you.” Nil said, crossing her arms.

“Huh?”

“What, you thought I was going to just let you walk away?” She jabbed a finger in Augustus’ direction. “You have something that belongs to me, and until I can figure out a way to dispel this binding ritual, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Dahlia rubbed at her chin, screwing up her face into a dramatically thoughtful expression. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Actually, this could be exactly what I need!” She hefted the skull in one palm. “Now that my old crew is in the wind, a couple new minions are just the ticket! What do you say, Auggie?”

“Cease the use of this wretched nickname, hellspawn.” The skull growled. “Mine name is Augustus Quonti-“

“I’m not your minion.” Nil said, cutting him off. “We aren’t working together, and we aren’t friends or partners or anything else.”

Dahlia grinned. “Wicked. Well, with all that settled – Auggie! Our first heading, if you would be so kind.”

Augustus gave a grating sigh. “I can sense the nearest Piece to the southwest of this location.”

With hardly a moment’s hesitation, Dahlia turned and began making her way across the field.

“Hey!” Nil shouted, scuttling to catch up with the emberling’s quick, purposeful stride. “Give me back my things!”

“Oh, yeah.” Dahlia said, seeming only then to remember the spellbook slung over her shoulder. “One condition. If we’re going to be traveling together, it’s going to get really inconvenient not knowing your name.” 

Nil rolled her eyes. “Oh, very well.”

Orribeth Volsturm reached out to dip her quill for the sake of what felt like the thousandth signature that day, wrist moving with a deft, practiced motion to keep her desk free of stray ink drops. Her assistant kept badgering her about switching to one of those metal quills – the newfangled ones with the inkwell built into the shaft – but she didn’t see the need. There was value in tradition – stability. The quill was one of a thousand little ways she kept to the will of her father, and of his father before him. 

She laid a weary eye on the towering stack of proposals still waiting for approval. No matter how many Volsturm signed, the pile never seemed to diminish – especially since Hoffrenn’s breakthrough a few years back. Her insistence on reading every document twice didn’t exactly speed up the process, but she was a detail-oriented woman and not about to let Hoffrenn try and slip another shortcut under her nose. He seemed to have learned his lesson the first time, but she wouldn’t put it past that wiry little sociopath to try something similar if she ever became complacent. 

There was a small knock at the poor, perfectly clear through the absolute silence of Volsturm’s office. 

She set aside a stack of papers unhurriedly and folded her hands on the desk. “Enter.” 

The door creaked slowly open until the face of a mousy, redheaded elf woman peeked through the crevice. “A missive for you, Madam Chancellor.” She said in her perpetually small, nervous voice. “Marked urgent.”

Volsturm gave a curt nod and lifted a hand to beckon her assistant into the room. “Thank you, Elyn. Close the door behind you, if you would.”

Elyn sidled her way through the door and walked briskly up to place an envelope affixed with the courier service’s wax seal on the desk. She took a step back, crossing her arms behind her waist as Volsturm retrieved her letter opener – as ornate and finely made as everything else in her office – and broke the seal. The Chancellor’s expression did not move as she scanned the document, carefully re-folded it and placed it in one of her desk drawers. 

“I hope it is nothing too distressing, ma’am.” Elyn said. 

Volsturm pressed her lips together in what might have almost been a smile on any other face. “Not at all, Elyn. Send for Vigilance, if you would.”

Elyn’s pale face registered the faintest hint of surprise – if the contents of the missive required immediate attention from Mage Hunters, it must have been quite serious indeed. She dipped a quick bow and scurried out. 

A knock sounded at the door sixteen minutes later, much sharper than Elyn’s timid tapping. Again, the Chancellor bid them enter. 

A pair of individuals in long black coats marched into the office and stood at attention. They moved smoothly and quietly, perfectly mirroring one another’s stride and body language – with their faces largely hidden in the shadows of their hoods, the Mage Hunters’ heights and builds were the only meaningful way to tell them apart. 

“Lancaster.” Volsturm said, nodding to each of them in turn, “Moon-Bloom. I hope I haven’t summoned you at an inopportune time.”

“Of course not, ma’am.” The first replied – a young man’s voice, deep and silk-smooth. 

“Our lives are our duty.” Added the second. A young woman, with a voice like a serrated knife. 

“Indeed.” Volsturm tapped lightly at the edge of her desktop. “I’ve just received some rather disturbing news. A highly valuable relic was just intercepted on its route to the client – a benefactor of great importance to the Triumvirate, and one with very little tolerance for these sorts of complications.”

A hint of a frown pulled at Lancaster’s lips. “Villains, ma’am?”

The Chancellor inclined her head. “All signs point to it. Our intelligence also suggests the possibility of a rogue Mage’s involvement, which brings the situation into your jurisdiction.” Volsturm sighed. “Though, truth be told I would likely be sending you even if that were not the case.”

She leaned forward, lacing her fingers together as she braced her forearms on the desk. “Above all else, this is a mission that necessitates discretion. Discretion, and swift, decisive resolution, which is why I’ve chosen the two of you.”

Both Hunters bowed with a synchronous motion. “You honor us, ma’am.” Moon-Bloom said. 

“Do me the same courtesy and make this quiet and clean. I would rather the client never finds out about this little hiccup at all.” Volsturm pushed a document across her desk, sealed with her own symbol – the sigil of the Holy Dictum. “You’ll find all the information we have relevant to your mission in there. Approach the Mage under standard protocol, but securing the artifact is your top priority. You are cleared for neutralization if warranted. Do you understand the parameters of your mission?”

“Yes ma’am.” They said in unison. 

“Any questions? Objections?” Neither answered. “Lyonel?”

Lancaster stood a little straighter. “Ma’am?”

“I know it must irk you to be pulled away from your interim duties.” Volsturm made a quick motion with her hand, forestalling his answer. “Don’t bother denying it, it’s all over your face. What are they calling that pet thief of yours these days?”

The Hunter chuckled softly. “Citizens have taken to calling them the Harlequin, ma’am.”

“Tch. Such pomp and fanfare over a criminal.” Volsturm shook her head. “But I suppose the smallfolk will take their entertainment wherever they can find it.”

Lancaster cleared his throat. “Indeed.”

“Regardless, I’ll have the case transferred back to the Watch investigators.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Though Captain Barnahl tells me you’ve made more progress on your own than his lot of dunces ever could.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know, ma’am.” Lancaster said, not quite smiling.

Moon-Bloom shot a momentary glance of jealousy in her partner’s direction, so fast anyone might have missed it – anyone other than Volsturm. She had practically raised these two, after all. 

“Right then – visit the armory and prepare for immediate departure. Dismissed.”

The Mage Hunters snapped out a salute – three fingers, from the forehead to the heart – and excused themselves, leaving the Chancellor once again alone with her silence and her piles upon piles of paperwork. She spun her chair to face the wall-spanning window at the back of the room, looking out over the bustling expanse of Dianophon City stretching out below her. 

It would not be long, she hoped, until all of this became so much simpler.