Wakesfield near ran through the streets, his progress slowed by the still crowded streets. He knew where his destination lay, he had walked or rode past it many times without thinking, just another landmark in the city, a thing to orientate oneself with. Now he tried to recall where the damn entrance was. He kept one hand on the pouch in his vest and another on the rifle slung on his back, a pouch slapping against his thigh as he moved. He saw the building loom up ahead, a dull blue paint glowing in the streetlights. The building was shaped like a massive H, 2 yards either side closed off with fencing that had seen better days, but served to obscure the goings on within. He had never before had a reason or curiosity to need to enter, now he ran the length of the fence until he came to a door, closed. He paused, took a moment to catch his breath, and knocked three times, smoothing out his vest as he waited. A small hatch opened up, and a pair of yellow reptilian eyes set into blue scales looked out at him, taking him in before speaking.

  “Looking to hire or got a delivery?”

  “Neither” said Wakesfield, fishing the pouch out and holding the small seal up where it could be seen. “One of yours tried to recruit me earlier. I’m here to see if the offer’s still open.”

  A hand with pale blue scales on its palm and dark claws on each of its four fingers slapped over the creatures eyes. “Let me guess, dwarf? Looks like a pirate walked off a stage show?” Wakesfield nodded as he replaced the pouch. The guard sighed. “Hang on a moment.”

  The small hatch closed, and Wakesfield heard a cry from behind the door. “Opening the south entrance, I told you Flint’s been recruiting drunk again!” there was a distant but audible groan from within the yard. After a few moments, the door opened proper and Wakesfield stepped in. The guard was shorter than Wakesfield expected, standing on a stool to reach the hatch they had spoken through. He wore simple clothes with a metal breastplate over his stained shirt, the open toed sandals that were popular among the Reptilians, thick leather to keep them out of the muck while leaving their long claws free. A shield and a spear leaned against the wall of the small cover he stood in, a small candle casting enough light to show the newspaper he was reading. He looked over Wakesfield as he entered, his eyes raking over the burn scars visible, and nodded towards the building. “Double doors over yonder, head to the desk. Abigail will get you settled and sorted.”

  Wakesfield nodded with a quiet thanks, and headed off. He was calmer now than he had been, the dash through the city streets having burned off much of his excitement and enthusiasm. If anything he was feeling slightly foolish now. But he headed for the doors, for lack of better options. He pushed through the doors, and stepped into the warmth. He stood in a surprisingly small reception hall, a closed space with a wooden counter at one end, attended by a woman in a simple suit, and a bench either side. Between torches on either wall sat paintings, old fashioned things depicting a surely idealised image of some ancient heroes battling a dragon and a strange aquatic looking beast. He was surprised to see two familiar faces. The old man, Felix, sat casually in a chair, reading a newspaper folded so he could comfortably hold it in one hand. Beside the counter, the tan-skinned woman, Naran he believed, had been speaking with the woman behind the counter.

  Felix gave him a knowing smile and a small wave, and returned to reading his newspaper. After a small nod to Wakesfield, Naran turned back to the woman, speaking quietly enough that Wakesfield didn’t want to try and listen in. He stood awkwardly, not sure whether to take a seat or not. Before he could reach a proper decision, Naran moved away from the counter, and took a seat opposite Felix. The woman at the counter beckoned him over, and Wakesfield approached sheepishly. He allowed the worker a moment to catch herself, her eyes widening and a brief look of shock flickering over her face as she saw the burns. To her credit, she caught herself after just a moment and pasted on a service industry face and smile, welcoming without being too familiar. If he hasn’t been so used to seeing the look he might not have noticed.

  “Welcome sir, would you be another of Flint’s would-be-recruits?” He nodded silently. She sighed and took out a form and a pen. “Right then, in the morning we might be able to get you an interview and a trial with someone that won’t be hung over at least, but for tonight best we can do is a warm bed. Just need some details.” He answered her questions, a short collection of whos and whys and whens. He was not sure what he had expected, something grander perhaps, not petty bureaucracy. She filled out the form, and laid it aside for the ink to dry. “Please have a seat sir, I’ll get these sorted and we can get you all settled for the night.” She placed a small sign reading “Ring for service” and a small bell on the counter, and disappeared through a door behind the counter.

  They sat in silence for a time, a palpable awkwardness between them. The only noise was the occasional rustling as Felix turned a page. Eventually he broke the silence. “They wrote a whole page on us it seems, least on the attack. Says here there’s been more’n a few attacks last few weeks, weevils getting antsy. Must be preppin’ for winter, settlin’ down in a nest somewhere nearby.” Neither Wakesfield nor Naran responded, the silence once again broken only by the occasional rustle of paper. After a while and several page turns, he spoke again. “Apparently some lady named Madam Heresmith won a dog contest, her hound was deemed ‘best in show’.”

  Naran and Wakesfield exchanged a quick look, and Naran asked. “Is that relevant to the attack?”

  Felix peered at her over the tip of the newspaper. “Nah but it’s interestin’ ain’t it? Even got it in a section marked ‘Human Interest’”. He gave a quiet laugh to himself, and Naran dropped her head, giving a cough that may have hidden a small chuckle. He set the newspaper on the seat beside him, and looked at the other two. “So the l’il man’s talk got to you two? Here to make a name for yourselves are we?”

  Naran and Wakesfield exchanged a look, and Wakesfield cleared his throat. “The payment we were given for the attack was quite generous, more than I usually earn for harder work. My true work requires significant investment, so it could be of benefit to me.”

  Naran idly tossed a small wooden skewer in her hands, flipping it between fingers. “I need to know more about the world outside my tribe’s lands, and to be quite honest I have no idea where to begin. Work that would presumably have me travel to different places would be of great use to me.”

  Felix chuckled to himself. “Well, don’t y’all have noble reasons? Me, I’m jus’ here to make myself famous again. Used to have some fame in my youthful days, but fella I talked to insists I’m dead, if you can believe that. Figure I best rectify that, plus if they callin’ my name in the street the other fella I’m lookin’ for might just overhear and come by to say hello.”

  Wakesfield looked at him pondering something. He looked to the ceiling and spoke with a thoughtful voice. “I wonder if the other two will be joining us then.”

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  “Priests got a higher callin’ to attend to I’d say” said Felix, a touch of sorrow in his voice. He had travelled with the priest for only a brief time, but had enjoyed the time and company of the man of wood and stone.

  Wakesfield nodded, seeing the point. “The officer, you think?” he asked the room at large.

  “I would assume not” Naran answered. “She did not seem to enjoy our company, nor that of those she does not deem suitable.” Both men shared a look, and said nothing. They returned to sitting in silence, Felix idly flipping through his paper. Eventually the worker behind the counter returned.

  “Alright, we have beds available if you need them, open space but clean and warm. We can get you seen early tomorrow in the front yard if you wish to bed down elsewhere. We can also get your clothes washed and dried for the morning, just leave them in the baskets under the beds.”

  They each shrugged, and stood to follow her. A free bed was a free bed.

  The beds were simple cots, arranged in a long hall much like a military barracks. Despite the length and the bare stone floor, the room was quite warm, several large black iron stoves down the length of the walls glowing with a gentle light and generous heat. There was a plain curtain on rails for privacy, but they did nothing to block out the sound of the already occupied beds, some shuffling and gentle snoring already present. “Priority for beds goes to agents of the House” she explained, whispering as they walked through the hall. “But we usually lay aside a few beds for anyone needs them, plenty of needy folk to go around in this city” explained the worker with a sorrowful look at some of the closed curtains. “We only allow those we know won’t cause any issues, so there shouldn’t be any trouble. We lay out some water, but if you need anything before breakfast we just ask you don’t disturb anyone else and head out yourself.” They nodded, and chose some open beds at random, not side by side but not too far from each other. Felix turned to them as he pulled a curtain shut, and mouthed a silent “goodnight”, answered by a pair of nods. There was some shuffling as they removed the worst of their stained clothes, baskets slid through the curtains, and each of them fell into the beds and an almost immediate sleep, lingering exhaustion from the day taking them.

  Felix woke once in the night, panicking slightly at the unfamiliar room. He felt for Theresa and felt nothing but air, before he remembered, and slowly withdrew his arm. There was some whispering and movement outside the curtain, and he saw a dim light moving through the curtain. “No business of mine” he thought to himself, and rolled over and back to sleep almost immediately.

  Wakesfield lay in bed, listening to someone passing through the hall. He could hear some whispering, and the click of boots on the stone floor. He had his suspicions, but assumed there was no point rushing for an answer when he could wait until morning.

  They awoke not long after dawn, going by the dim light filtering through the windows on one wall. Naran sat up, and saw her coat and boots folded in a basket at the foot of her bed. She thought for a moment on the implications that she had not heard a thing as it was returned, but pushed it aside. She donned her clothes, and pulled back the curtain. Wakesfield was sitting on the edge of a cot, lacing up his worn boots. Felix was standing by the unmistakeable form of Fuath, chatting amicably. They gave a small wave as she approached, Felix bearing a large grin around the pipe hanging from his mouth and Fuath radiating happiness.

  “Look who snuck in overnight! Seems the priest needs somethin’ to do for a while before he gets his robes proper.” Felix stood shirtless, his belly hanging over his trousers as he filled his pipe. The priest’s robes hid most of his form, only the tip of his foot claws visible apart from his face. He held his sleeves together, his hands hidden inside.

  “Yes, it seems it will take some time before I can be properly ordained, so it was suggested I take employment somewhere that would allow me to perform my duties. The House offers such an opportunity, so here I am. It is good to see all of you, I had not expected to see familiar faces here.”

  Naran smiled as she adjusted her clothes for the day. “I did not myself, but after some thought it appeared to be my best option.”

  “It pays quite well” added Wakesfield, wiping off his boots from the cot.

  Felix had pulled on a shirt, and was attaching a pair of suspenders over them as his full but unlit pipe shed small shreds of tobacco onto the ground. “Well I’m sure we’ve all got reasons. Anyone know where we could get some breakfast round here?”

  A passing woman stopped briefly, a still sleeping child in her arms. “There’ll be food served in the next hall. Simple stuff but it’s free and lots of it.” She smiled briefly, and carried on. They watched her go, and took in the room. The room was coming alive, and it seemed every bed had been taken. People were shuffling down to a doorway presumably leading into the next hall, some working folk still in soot-stained clothes, some clearly poor and without any place else, their clothes near hanging off them in rags. The three standing moved closer to Wakesfield’s cot to keep the space between the two lanes of cots free and silently watched the march, Felix idly puffing on his unlit pipe. When the crowd had thinned a bit, they made to move on themselves.

  “It would seem they take their name seriously” observed Naran quietly.

  “‘They that bend themselves to feed the hungry stand taller than mountains’, so said Saint Hubiah” replied Fuath. They carried on into the hall.

  Breakfast was indeed simple, but there was plenty to go around. Workers handed out heaping bowls of oat porridge, small bread rolls and jugs of milk to all comers it seemed, there were far more present than had been in the bed hall. The hall was a massive open space, presumably once a ballroom, now filled with long tables lined with benches. The four took a tray of food each, and sat together at the end of a table. They ate silently, watching in mild fascination as Fuath’s jaw worked away. The strangers at either side mostly ignored them, beyond a silent watching of Fuath’s jaw working. As they ate, Felix nudged Naran sitting next to him and pointed with a bread roll. “Look who stopped by.”

  Naran followed his gesture, and saw the uniformed woman, Winifred, standing with a tray and looking for a place to seat. There was very little space in the hall, some had simply slumped against walls where there was less foot traffic. She saw the group, helped by Felix’s hand waving the bread roll at her, and started towards them, head bowed. Naran leaned over her plate and said “I do not like her. She has an ugly light in her eyes when she looks at Fuath and myself.” Fuath looked up at the mention of his name, his jaw crushing a piece of bread to mush. Felix gave a thoughtful puff on his still unlit pipe, and shrugged. “Some folks are natural ugly, others got taught ugly. Figure we can give her a chance to show which she is.”

  The three looked at Felix, and he looked slightly embarrassed. “What? Nothin’ wrong with givin’ folks a chance is there?”

  Fuath swallowed. “You know that is quite similar to a teaching of Saint Susette. She said-“he was interrupted by Winifred arriving at the table. She stood with her head bowed, her eyes darting up and her ears near bright red. “Umm. Could I sit with you? Please?”

  Naran sighed, but she slid along the bench, herself and Felix making room for Winifred, who sat and began to eat with whispered thanks. They sat in silence, finishing their meals or watching the room. Before Winifred had finished, a man in the same style of suit as the counter worker from the night before approached them.

  “Party of five, Flint sent you?” he asked, a chipper tone of voice saying he had nowhere else in the world he’d rather be right now. He smiled wider as they nodded and muttered affirmative, and pointed to a side door in the hall. “When you’re done eating, just head out that door, we have some veterans are going to put you through a quick trial as part of your induction process.” He headed off without waiting for a reply, and they watched him until he had left the hall.

  “It would seem they intend to give us a fair shake” said Wakesfield, sipping the remainders of his milk.

  “Or they want rid of us soon” replied Naran.

  They patiently waited for Winifred to finish, as Felix tried to encourage her to eat slower after she choked on a rushed mouthful of bread. They returned their trays with thanks, and headed for the door.

  “Let’s go kick today in the teeth” announced Felix, as he pushed the doors open and they walked into the morning light.