The Dawn March barracks were as abuzz with activity as a beehive would have been at the bottom of a lake of cheap wine. The major distinction between the two was that the cheap wine was on the inside of the various March officers who bothered to turn up that day. The general level of sapience was otherwise about the same though.

That didn’t bother Dae. It was typical behavior for the March after a major celebration. Except for her diversion with the vampire and Half-Cut Joe diluting his cheap whiskey to the point where it was indistinguishable from the Low Quarter’s general sewage, Dae would have been in the same state as the rest of the Dawn March officers. Instead she was conscious and alert and without any pounding internal headaches, which meant a lot of external ones were going to seek her out.

The one island of sobriety in the sea of half-asleep, drunken louts was the Dawn March’s commander, Sendrick Ketel. That boded poorly for Dae. Sendrick was as prone to excess as any of the personnel who served under him. If he was still clear headed it meant real trouble was brewing.

“The hell have you been Kor?” Sendrick asked, addressing Dae by her surname as she opened the door to his office.

“Derelict and absent from duty,” she said, sliding into one of the seats in front of Sendrick’s desk. Javan slid into the other chair and leaned it back. Like the rest of the office, and the barracks as a whole, the chair had seen better days. The padded leather cushions that were once meant to look posh and high quality were betrayed by the ravages of time which revealed the poor workmanship that went into their construction. Dae knew the kind of money the Dawn March collected from the royal treasury and knew the kind of furnishings the office should have boasted. Whoever was pocketing the difference was supplementing their income generously.

The same was true with whoever pocketed the difference in what was allocated for the Dawn March officers’ payroll and what the average officer actually received. Graft, bribery and general corruption did a reasonable job making up the difference, though there were always the holdouts like Dae who either didn’t care enough to sell out or had such low expenses that they didn’t see the need to.

Javan, Dae’s theoretical mentor, had worked for a few years to convince her to follow the natural order of things and find a family to put her “on retainer”. He never quite gave up on that, but Dae’s dull and disinterested lack of a response to his suggestions made it a difficult matter to pursue.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Sendrick asked.

“You sent your errand boy here to demand my presence,” Dae said.

“I sent your partner to bring you in,” Sendrick said. “And do you know why I did that?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” Dae said.

“Well you’re wrong,” Sendrick said. “Kael, explore to Officer Kor why she is here.”

“The commander was concerned for your safety,” Javan said.

“That was nice of him,” Dae said. “Clearly he is dedicated to helping each and every one of us.”

“It was bring you here or turn you over to the Watch’s custody,” Javan said.

“What does the Watch want with me?” Dae asked, fishing to discover what the Watch had told the March.

“There were multiple assaults on watch personnel by a Pact Warrior bearing the March’s heraldry,” Javan said.

“That sound just tragic,” Dae said. “I hope they catch the guy who was masquerading as one of us. Sounds like he’s really dangerous.”

“I’m glad we see things the same,” Sendrick said. “Supposedly the assaults happened within the vicinity of one of your favorite haunts. Don’t suppose you saw anything?”

“I’ve seen lots of things,” Dae said. “Last night I remember seeing the bottom of a very cheap bottle of whiskey, and some truly unpleasant whiskey dreams. If the Watch wants more than that you would probably need to bill them for my time as an investigator right?”

“Hey now, we have a good understanding with the Watch,” Sendrick said. “Professional courtesy between organizations. Normally that’d means we’d help them out however was required.”

By which Dae heard him saying that normally he’d turn her over to them unless she made him a better offer.  Something wasn’t normal today though, in fact it was abnormal enough that her commander was willing to forego a chance at a cheap payoff. That captured her full attention.

“Professional courtesy only goes so far though right?” Dae asked.

“Today anyways,” Javan said.

“What’s special about today?” Dae asked.

“Today we’re being called to the castle,” Sendrick said.

“Called to the Castle?” Dae asked. “Didn’t know we worked for the Duke.”

In theory, the Dawn March reported to a royal overseer. In practice, each of the central barracks was given a wide autonomy in how it managed its affairs and that generally meant that the commanders were effectively employees of the Dukes whose territories they served in.

“You don’t seem to work for anyone,” Sendrick said. “But you know how to curtsy, so you get to head up to the castle and see what the fuss is all about.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” Javan asked.

“You’re going with her,” Sendrick said. “We’ve got a nice understanding with the Castle Guards too. I don’t want to have to extend them any Professional Courtesy, if I make myself clear?”

“Yeah,” Dae said. “If we have to assault the Castle Guards, we’ll be sure to be professional about it.”

Without waiting for a dismissal, Dae rose and left Sendrick’s office. As a Pacted officer, Dae warranted an oversized carrel where her desk and the paperwork that she was ostensibly responsible for waited. Since most of the paperwork on the desk had been there six years prior when she joined the Dawn March, she saw little need disturb it unless she needed writing space and that happened only rarely.

Most of the “work” of a Dawn March officer involved the implicit threat their presence in a city represented. People knew that if they stepped outside the rules they would have to pay for it. Of course the Dawn March’s rates were pretty reasonable so long as the rule being broken wasn’t one which would cause mass rioting, or one which a wealthier power wished to have enforced.

“You’ve got a talent for landing in trouble don’t you?” Javan asked as he caught up with her.

“Maybe trouble’s got a talent for finding me,” Dae said.

“Could be,” Javan said. “Either or, you’re a miserable specimen to hang around.”

“Never said I needed a partner,” Dae said.

“Try proving that to the commander,” Javan said. “He still seems to think you need a babysitter.”

“He’s not worried about me,” Dae said.

“Of course not,” Javan said. “He’s worried about next week’s gratuity from Duke Telli. If you screw that up there’s going to be nine hells to pay.”

“That would be a terrible shame,” Dae said, digging her official Dawn Watch paraphernalia out of her desk. “What’s the deal with the Castle though? If we’re going to pay for nine hells, I’d at least like to know if we’re walking into one of them.”

“Sounds like they’ve got a dead body they want us to check out,” Javan said as he strapped on a shoulder guard with the Dawn Watch logo emblazoned on the side.

“Sounds delightful,” Dae said. “Anything special about this dead body?”

There was something special about every dead body of course, but Dae blocked those thoughts from her mind with practiced ease. She had too many memories that were “special” in that precise manner to allow herself to dwell on the “special” things a corpse gave testimony to.

“That’s why they want us there I imagine,” Javan said.

“Bet you next week’s wage they want us there because someone’s head is going to roll and they’d rather it be ours than theirs,” Dae said, securing her shoulder guard in place. Neither she nor Javan needed the shoulder guards for armor. The ceremonial swords they wore on their hip which boasted beautiful filigree and glass-steel blades were similarly unnecessary from a tactical perspective.

Their use was meant for outside of combat though. Pact armor and weapons were surpassingly powerful, but not even the greatest Pact binders could hold the transformation indefinitely. Not without losing memory, mind and personality at least.

Instead, the Dawn March relied on their heraldry and symbols. The logos and recognizable blades reminded the people the March  interacted with of the officer’s considerable power. The physical reminder was surprising effective too. Intellectually, someone might know that the person before them was gifted with vast and terrible abilities, but the message was more viscerally understood when that someone had a sword inches away from their throat, even if the sword was more ornamental than practical.

“That’s not a bet,” Javan said.

“And yet we’re going to head there anyways, aren’t we?” Dae asked.

“You got anything better to do this morning?” Javan asked.

“Nothing and no one,” Dae said, kicking the lowest drawer of her desk closed. It closed with a too familiar hollow thump. Dae frowned. She wasn’t a desk.

She spent the trip to Castle Tel working on that frown, layering ever more unpleasant thoughts on top of each other.

A body at the Castle was likely to be one of two things; it belonged to a servant, in which case involving the Dawn March was unlikely, or it belonged to a member of the Telli family, in which case getting involved was exactly within the Dawn March’s wheelhouse and entirely outside of Dae’s interests.

She thought back to her interactions with the Tellis. They governed the province of Tel’Ap’Sai. Duke Telli  had been in power even back when Dae was at the Royal castle so she’d seen him a number of times, though only from a distance. He was a weaselly sort of man in her estimation, shrewd and calculating (which weren’t necessarily bad qualities in a nobleman) and disrespectful towards any he considered his lesser (which wasn’t necessarily an uncommon in a nobleman).

If the corpse was his, Dae knew she would not have been assigned to the case. Sendrick would have handled the matter personally in order to ingratiate himself with the next ruler of the Telli family.

The Duchess Telli was also not a possibility, as Dae recalled, having died in birthing her third child.

One of the children then perhaps? Not the heir certainly. There’d be a true investigation if an heir was killed. So that ruled out the first born son.

The daughter, second born was a more plausible alternative. Dae didn’t recall much about her except that her debut at court had been delayed twice for “reasons of health”. That was over a decade ago however and while the daughter hadn’t married yet, it wasn’t uncommon for a nobleman like Telli to reserve an asset like that until a suitably strategic engagement could be made which would benefit the family.

The most likely option though was the third child, the younger son. Just important enough to demand an official investigation, just unnecessary and useless enough that a half-hearted effort would suffice for all involved.

Dae remembered meeting the boy, Ren, when she was at the Royal Castle. He was quiet and reserved, in every measure the opposite of his outspoken and entitled brother. Where his elder brother took after their father, Ren seemed to avoid that fate, to his own detriment.

Dae wondered if perhaps a worse fate had befallen him. And on the evening of the Royal Unification Gala. That didn’t bode well at all.

The carriage that Javan and Dae rode in reached Castle Telli minutes after they left from the Dawn March barracks. The High Quarter was situated close to the Castle for a variety of reasons, easy access to their paid enforcers being one of the many minor perks the nobles routinely overlooked.

When the two Dawn March officers arrived though they were not taken within the castle. Instead the chamberlain and a party of minor officials led them a quarter of the distance around the castle moat to where a crowd had gathered.

Floating in the water, face down was the body they had come in search of.

“We wanted to leave it as it was so that you could examine it for yourself,” the chamberlain said.

Dae praised the silent and hidden stars. It was exceedingly rare to find someone as sensible as the chamberlain in charge of a death scene.

Javan had the chamberlain clear away the crowd and together they spent a solid twenty minutes observing the body and recording the details of what they saw. It was the basic foundation work any sort of good investigation was built on and which most bad investigations would file and ignore forever.

Once they had spotted all that they could and made what measurements they could make, Dae called for the body to be lifted ashore. A group of burly workers from the crowd stepped forward to earn a copper coin each by pulling the body onto the banks. When they settled it onto the shore and turned it over Dae discovered several unsettling things.

First, the body did not belong to any of the nobles of the Telli family. He was a young boy, younger than the youngest Telli son and barely into the beginnings of his manhood, from the neighboring country of Inchesso if his bloated and swollen features were still enough of a clue as to his origin.

That meant he was someone special and outside the purview of Dae’s familiarity which left her in uncertain waters.

What wasn’t uncertain though was the thin line that ran across his neck. From where they found the body, the boy could have been killed by a fall into the moat from the castle parapets. Or drowned if he’d slipped in from ground level. However he entered the moat though, it was slash across the throat which claimed his life. No accident created the corpse that lay on the ground at Dae’s feet and suicide wasn’t a possibility either.

For as worrisome as that was though, a small flag on the shoulder of the boy’s uniform filled Dae with even greater dread.

The boy bore the heraldry of a Queen’s Page. Only the elite were allowed to become direct servants to the Queen, and for a foreigner to hold that position meant that he was someone very important in his home nation.

Dae stared down at the corpse and bit back each of the thousand curses she knew. No matter what they found, this wasn’t going to be a simple case.

Daelynne and her vampire baggage arrived at the Sleeping Courtier well after both had been soaked to the bone. Their entrance to the inn was remarkable only because so few in the Low Quarter chose to brave the weather that night. The sight of someone being carried in on someone else’s back drew little interest and less concern though. Anyone who noticed whatever problem the two were having had to fear that they’d be drawn into the matter and no one wanted that.

It came as no surprise to Dae that her vampire backpack had chosen a room on the second floor. She briefly considered transforming into her armor, but before she could commit that transgression for a second time in less than an hour, the vampire spoke up.

“You’ve done enough,” he said. “I don’t think either one of us wants to go up the stairs like this.”

“I could manage it if they would hold still for a second,” Dae said.

“I assure you that is not necessary,” the vampire said. “I am recovered enough to walk on my own.”

He slid off her back and rose to stand on his own. With his first step though he pitched forward, clutching his side in pain. Daelynne caught him before he crashed to the ground but had to fight to retain her balance as the world drunkenly bobbed before her eyes.

“Almost recovered enough,” he said and leaned on her, forcing his breathing to an even rhythm.

“You can recover in your room behind a locked door,” Dae said and dragged him towards the stairs. The vampire winced as they moved but managed to keep up thanks to Dae supporting most of his weight.

“Are you always this painfully stubborn when helping people?” the vampire asked.

“I can just be painful if you’d prefer?” she said.

“No, that’s alright,” the vampire said. “I believe I have painful covered quite well already.”

At the epic conclusion to the odyssey of “climbing the stairs”, the two of them were out of breath and in need of a long rest. Daelynne pulled the vampire down the hall without pausing though, intent on maintaining what little momentum they had built up.

“The second door on the left,” the vampire said.

“You went for one of the cheap bunks?” Dae asked.

“It seemed sufficient,” the vampire said.

“It’s not,” Dae said. “There’s no lock on the doors for the cheap rooms. Gods above, you were determined to get yourself killed tonight weren’t you?”

“I can take care of myself,” the vampire said.

“Clearly,” Dae said and shook his arm off her shoulder. The vampire remained standing but just barely. “Wait here, I’ll get the key to one of the private rooms.”

Without waiting for the inevitable argument the vampire would make, she spun on her heels, lurched left, lurched right, caught herself on a wall and used that as a guide to make it back down the hallway to the stairs.

Due to the storm, the inn was doing poor business for the evening despite the royal holiday. Thanks to the storm though, the inn’s proprietor knew that anyone seeking shelter at his establishment was more desperate than the usual traveler. Daelynne escaped her encounter with him richer by one room key but poorer by a noticeable chunk of the coins she’d taken from the watchmen.

By the time she returned to the second floor, she expected to discover that the vampire had slunk away either into the room he claimed he’d rented or back out into the night. Instead she found him sitting right where she left him.

“Get up,” she said. “You’re room’s down at the end of the hall.”

The vampire groaned but did as he was told.

“You are not what I expected,” the vampire said as they reached the door to his new room. “And for that I am grateful.”

“You’re welcome,” Dae said. “Now don’t die and don’t get lost. If I have to come find you when I need a witness, I’ll be grumpy about it.”

“I imagine that would be unpleasant,” he said.

“Not for me,” Dae said. She smiled but it wasn’t a warm smile or a deep one. “Here’s the key, for the love of every sainted thing, keep the door locked, especially at night. There’s things out there that are a lot worse than you and most of them walk on two legs and know how to turn a door handle.”

“I understand,” the vampire said. “In a general sense at least. I’ll take tonight’s object lesson to heart.”

“A heart? You still have one of those worthless things?” Dae asked.

“Of course I…” the vampire started to say and caught the smile that had reached Dae’s eyes. “Definitely not what I expected.”

“Good night vampire,” Dae said.

“Good night Warrior,” the vampire said. “And my apologies, I didn’t mean to be mysterious before. Only careful. You may call me Teo, though if you need to file any official reports I believe your suggestion of Joe will do perfectly well for those.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking it probably will,” Dae said. She nodded her head, which was as close as she could get under the circumstances to a formal bow without toppling over, and then staggered off down the hallway.

The storm outside the tavern had not changed its overall mood though it had lost some of its rage and spite. Dae entered its embrace cold, wet, and miserable and arrived at her rooms in the High Quarter in much the same condition.

As a member of the Dawn’s March, Dae had no claim to royal position, but she was expected to represent a higher caliber of personage than the denizens of either the Low Quarter or the Tradesmen’s Wards. The Low Quarter offered comfort and escape in that sense because it meant her chances of encountering one of her fellows from the Dawn’s March was low and even if she did neither would be inclined to acknowledge the other in such circumstances.

Stripping out of her sodden clothes, Dae grabbed a towel from her small bath area to dry off. The collection of purses she had liberated from the downed watchman sat on the simple desk that shared space with her bed and the chest where she kept her better garments and valuable personal belongings.

“That was a stupid thing to do,” she said, regretting the rotten whiskey, the pointless indulgence in violence and most of the rest of the evening. Royal galas didn’t put her in the best of moods, but she’d walked the road she was on enough times to know that it never lead anywhere good.

“They’re probably still there,” she said, knowing that the watchmen were probably long gone.

“I could go back and drop their money on them,” she said, knowing that she wouldn’t.

“No one would care then,” she said, knowing that it was too late to take back her mistakes.

The watchmen had been found already. The ones that fell down easy were already awake and telling their story. They’d only seen her in armor but they’d know she was with the Dawn’s March from the heraldry she wore. Their injuries were deeper than the wounds on their bodies. In breaking the watchmen, Dae had bruised the Watch’s pride, and worse, she’d punched them in their most tender spot. Right in the wallet. The theft of the purses was one thing. That was chump change and everyone knew it. Paying for the chirurgeon to set broken bones wasn’t cheap though. Nor were the extra shifts for already overworked Watchmen to cover the leave time for the injured. For that the Watch captain would raise a fuss. Which meant Dae’s commander would raise a fuss.

The world spun around her, but it was merely annoying rather than overwhelming. Dae fought against the induced dizziness and grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the closet that contained her day to day wearables. Once she’d possessed an array of nightgowns and fine undergarments. She’d maintained that frivolity longer than she should have perhaps, but her time to enjoy the soft things in life was years in the past, cut off from her by blood and fire and betrayal.

Possessed by a host of maudlin thoughts which ran in that vein, Dae stumbled out into the receiving room of her apartment, verified the door was locked, bolted and braced and then stumbled two feet backs toward her bed before settling on the couch as an acceptable alternative.

She didn’t want to dream, that was part of the reason for the bottle she’d downed, but her ghosts and demons didn’t care to indulge her and couldn’t be submerged under the thin layer of intoxication she’d covered herself in.

When the dreams came there was no sense to them. No narrative to lead her to a moment of clarity once she woke. They tore at her with crazed images, distorting her into a thousand different forms and people. She was butcher and the butchered, fallen hero and risen monster. Each image, each tableau, was wrapped in so many layers of symbolism and indirection that only the raw emotions they held touched on reality.

In the midst of the maelstrom of despair, pain, and rage, Dae found one image that she couldn’t approach at all and it made the least sense of any of them. She stood in a castle room she’d never been in and which never existed. The room was filled with crawling, scuttling things, but she knew with the certainty of a dream that none of them were an issue. She could best any monster in the room. It wasn’t the monsters that scared her though. It was a simple panel of wood. It rested against the wall of the room and beyond it lay something that froze the marrow of her bones. It was nameless. Unknowable. Except Dae knew what it was. It was annihilation. It was the thing her strength didn’t exist against. It was the foe she could never be victorious over.

She reached out for it and then saw what she was doing. With a scream, she put all of her will into stopping her traitorous hand, but against the force that drew her towards the other side of the wooden plank, she was like a child trying to wrestle with the tide.

Where her mind couldn’t save her though, her heart did. It stopped. For a too long beat she was paralyzed, dying, and then sleep shredded around her and she drew in a fresh breath.

A minute later her breathing was still ragged but under her control.

“Better than the last three times,” she whispered and clenched her fists.

She twisted and forced herself to sit on the couch, becoming dimly aware in the process that the sun was long risen. That wasn’t a good sign. She had the early shift to report to and while actual attendance for duty was not a habit among the Dawn March elite, failure to be available when her commander expected to lay into her for the problems of the prior evening was likely to raise his ire even further.

With the unpleasantness of her dream before waking, Dae had little desire to crawl into bed and wish the world away, but it was still a struggle to make it to the kitchen and pour herself a glass of water for her breakfast.

On the back of her left hand she felt a restless buzz. Kirios, her pact spirit, was restored and energized by the night’s activities. The banter with the vampire. The crazy maelstrom of her dreams. Every intense moment she experienced, good or bad, fed the spirit’s appetite.

It was why the spirits joined with the Pact Makers in the first place. To share in their lives. To feel and grow and experience things when by their nature they felt nothing, they changed only with the passing of the ages, and across those ages they held no connection to the world as it changed around them and molded them into new forms.

Attached to one of the Mindful Races, the spirits came as close as they could to the mortal world and as close as they could to living. Through the lives they shared together, the Pact Makers gained wondrous powers and the spirits gained memories and a sense of self, bounded in both cases by how much each was capable of unifying with the other.

In the wake of her dreams, Daelynne did not feel very unified with her spirit though. It craved more excitement, more misery, more everything, where she just wanted to forget the past twenty four hours and move on to as quiet a day as she could find.

The series of hammer blows that rang out against her door thrilled Kirios therefor while filling Dae with expected dread.

“Wake the hell up, the commander wants you at the barracks an hour ago,” Javan Kael, her “mentor” in the Dawn’s March called out from the hallway.

Sighing, Dae went into her bedroom and grabbed the pouches. Her clothes were wrinkled from sleeping in them but no one was going to care about that. All they’d be interested in was getting their cut of the loot she’d taken from the watchmen. That wasn’t the kind of fight that Kirios was looking forward to but Dae was pretty sure it would keep him content for a while anyways.

When Daelynne was a young girl, she’d dreamed of glorious battles and amazing feats of prowess. Though clad in the fine gowns of a royal handmaiden, she’d raced through castle halls and along stone parapets reenacting the wildest tales of daring the court bards dared tell in her presence. If the guards allowed that sort of behavior at all, it was only because the princess was there with her, and was often the one leading the charge.

Alari, then a princess, now a Queen. Then so close, now so distant. The rain wracked alley in Nath wasn’t far from the royal castle when the miles were measured by a bird on the wing. From where Daelynne stood though, a gap wider than the Uncrossable Ocean cut her off from the life she’d once known.

That was her own fault, the product of her own failings. She knew it to be true but she still missed the dreams she once had.

In their place, the years had shown her only cold, unforgiving reality. The battle against the watchmen who interrupted her drinking held no glory or amazing feats. They were six poorly armed, if violent, men and she was a Pact Warrior. The outcome of the battle was no more in doubt than if she had sparred against particularly fragile training dummys.

“There’s no need to slay them if you’ve come for me,” the vampire said. He struggled to push himself into a seating position and orient his gaze on Daelynne but he wasn’t able to keep his head from swaying irregularly.

“They’re not dead,” Daelynne said. “Dead’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

She reached down to the nearest watchman and cut his purse away from his belt. It was lighter than she hoped but there was still a good handful of coins inside.

“My apologies,” the vampire said. “I thought you were with the Dawn March. I’m afraid I don’t have any coins on me. I would guess that everyone tells you that though.”

“I am with the Dawn March,” Daelynne said. “And this isn’t a mugging.”

Or at least she wasn’t planning to take the vampire’s money. She needed him to play the part of “the innocent victim” that she was defending.

“Why are you here?” the vampire asked. His head was wobbling less but from his expression that was through a sheer act of will.

“They skipped out on paying their bar tab,” Daelynne said. “Can’t have the watch cheating the locals. That would be unjust.”

She collected three more purses and found their contents similarly wanting. Either the men laying sprawled at her feet were intensely bad at managing their money or they had families to support. Daelynne reflected on those options and decided there was no reason both couldn’t be true. Even in that case though, it was unlikely the coins in their purses were intended to support children or spouses. More likely was the scenario where the men would waste the coin on cheap entertainment as they’d tried to do tonight or spend the money on the chirurgeon who tended to their wounds.

The shards of Daelynne’s dream of being a great champion of justice cut into her again, for the ten thousandth time. She’d been kind, in a sense, to the watchman. None of them were dead. Just broken and bleeding. A few might recover in a week or so, but the rest would be a month or more in healing from their injuries. In theory the Nath Watch had provisions for dealing with wounded watchmen, but in reality those provisions often took the form of official reprimands for poor performance of their duties and an early termination from the force.

Even if the men themselves were terrible and they deserved such a fate, Dae wondered if the same could be said for their families. A watchman losing their position would mean more than the loss of a single week’s pay for their families. A loss like that brought with it hunger, insecurity and, from the worst individuals, violence.

It had been just for Dae to stop the men from brutalizing the vampire. It was just for her to take their wealth to pay off their debts. It was even, arguably, just for her to extract recompense for her own time and effort. All of that justice though wasn’t going to prevent more people from being hurt.

With a frown, Dae pushed the thought from her mind. She couldn’t save everyone. She’d proven that already. If tonight she could save herself, a vampire and a dwarven bartender, that would be enough. It was all she could do, so it would have to be enough.

“Am I free to leave?” the vampire asked. He watched Dae with an expression of disbelief and confusion overwhelming the pain that was etched into his features.

“Are you capable of leaving?” she asked. For as bad of a beating as she’d given the watchmen, they’d inflicted a worse one on the vampire.

“Not currently,” the vampire said and looked away from the fallen watchmen.

Dae thought back to her lessons. The ones she wasn’t, technically, supposed to have been taught. The musty aroma of the castle library came unbidden to her nostrils as she teased forth her knowledge of the creature that sat with his back pressed against the alley wall.

“You look terrible,” Dae said. “When did you eat last.”

“I don’t kill people,” the vampire said and tried to rise by bracing against the wall. His strength wasn’t up to the task though and, before he was able to rise even halfway, he collapsed back into the sitting position he started from.

“That’s obvious,” Dae said. “Here, take what you need.”

The vampire turned to find that she’d released her Pact armor and was offering her naked wrist to him.

“I can’t,” he said and turned away again.

“You’re going to have to,” she said. “You don’t want to be here when the on-duty watchman arrive.”

“I can’t feed with you,” he said.

“What’s wrong with my blood?” Dae asked, offended. Being fed on by a vampire wasn’t a thrilling prospect but she’d pledged to save at least him and Half-Cut Joe. “You need to heal. You can’t do that without taking in some life force. Or is there some crime that you’re starving yourself in penance for?”

“No crime,” the vampire said. “But feeding’s not like you think it is.”

“Yeah, if you lose control you could hurt me,” Dae said. The prospect was unpleasant but also unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

“No,” he said. “Each bloodline is different. I can’t share in your life force. I’m already pledged to another.”

Dae closed her eyes and shook her head. This was typical luck for her. Completely typical.

“Do you have a room somewhere?” she asked, trying to think of the easiest option she had for making this someone else’s problem.

“Yes,” the vampire said. “It’s not far away. I’ll be able to make it there in little bit.”

“You don’t have a little bit,” Dae said. She bent down to lift him up and had to fight not to topple over herself. The transformation to her Pact Warrior form had cleared away most of the intoxication she was affected by when she changed, but there was still a lot of alcohol in her system and it was happy to begin retoxifying her brain as soon as she left the embrace of her mystical armor.

“You can’t carry me,” the vampire said.

“Watch me,” Dae said and hoisted the tall man onto her back.

Neither of them was happy with the arrangement. For Dae, the vampire weighed a ton and was an unwieldy package that reduced her walking speed tremendously. For the vampire, Dae was a horse built of rocky muscle whose back crushed into his wounded ribs while she pulled his arms out of their sockets to keep him in place. Despite the awkward arrangement though, they did manage to get out of the alley without crushing any of the watchmen in the process.

“Why are you doing this?” the vampire asked.

Dae was silent for a long moment until thunder boomed over their head.

“The storm’s getting closer,” Dae said. “Where’s your place?”

Another rumble of thunder covered the vampire’s lack of an answer, but the splattering rain which followed was insufficient to disguise his continuing silence.

“Hey, no passing out,” Dae said and shook the vampire on her back. “And no dying either.”

The vampire chuffed out a tiny laugh.

“That’s an unusual request to make given what I am,” he said.

“I don’t really care what you are,” Dae said. “I just care that you’re breaking my back here.”

“Put me down then,” he said.

“No problem, just tell me where you’re room is.”

“First tell me why you’re doing this,” he said.

“You’re pretty demanding for a nearly dead guy,” Dae said. “Listen, if I leave you out here then my story of protecting you from the watch is going to fly to pieces. Oh, and you’ll wind up dead before this storm passes. As long as you’re alive I’ve got a witness who can support my side of the story and in this case that’s all I need to make the idiots go away.”

“So, I’m your alibi?” the vampire asked.

“Sure, we’ll go with that,” Dae said.

“I can’t testify in court,” the vampire said.

“You’re a citizen of Gallagrin aren’t you?” Dae asked. “You’ve got a bit of an Inchessian accent but it’s mild enough that you must have lived here for a while right?”

“You’re correct,” the vampire said. “I’ve lived in this country since I was a young boy.”

“Don’t suppose anyone gave you a name at some point did they?” Dae asked.

The vampire paused for a long moment before responding to that question.

“I’m noone important,” he said at last.

“That’s the wrong answer,” Dae said. “But I’m tired of standing in the rain. Tell me where your place is or I’ll bring you back to mine and tie you up in a box until I need you.”

“I have a room at the Sleeping Courtier,” the vampire said. “It’s at the next plaza down the road on our left.”

“I know where it is,” Dae said.

The next plaza was significantly farther away than either of the two remembered, thanks in part to the glacial pace the encumbered Dae set.

“You are an unusual member of the Dawn Watch to know this part of Nath so well,” the vampire said after they had traveled for a minute in silence.

“That’s me,” Dae. “Unusual.”

“What did you mean before?” the vampire asked, “About my answer being the wrong one?”

“It was stupid,” Dae said. “You can’t pass yourself as a normal guy. If the watch thugs back there didn’t drive that point home, then take a look in a mirror at some point.”

“I didn’t say I was normal,” the vampire said. “Just unimportant.”

“Right,” Dae said. “And that’s stupid. It screams that you’ve got something to hide. Regular people would just give their name. Smart people would make up a name. Try Del, or Joe. Those are fine names. Nice and generic. But no, you’ve got to be mysterious.”

“My apologies,” the vampire said. “I am confused and I think my brain is addled.”

“That’s good,” Dae said. “Much more believable. It’s not true, but it’s at least a decent lie and I appreciate that.”

“You saw the wounds I was given,” the vampire said. “The watchmen were not gentle with their blows.”

“I would hope not,” Dae said. “It was six on one, but they still needed to make sure they kept their edge on you.”

“Then why would you say I am lying?” the vampire asked.

“Because you’re following this conversation perfectly well,” Dae said. “No slurred words, no loss of focus, your responses are quick and on point. In short, even if they did mess up your brains, you’ve taken the time to fix the damage back up.”

“Can you blame me?” the vampire asked.

“Of course not,” Dae said. “But given that you fixed the trauma to your head before the rest of your body, I would guess that you’re more concerned about revealing something than being caught by the watch. And given what the watch would definitely do to you if they caught you, that tells me you’ve got a secret that you’re willing to die for.”

“Or perhaps I’m merely stupid, as you suggested,” the vampire said.

“Can never rule that out,” Dae said. “But it’s bad to count on that too. I think the most likely scenario though is that you don’t trust me, despite the fact that I saved your life.”

“They wouldn’t have killed me,” the vampire said. “They just wanted someone to vent their frustration on.”

“That might have been true if you were human,” Dae said. “But you’re not a person to them. You’re a corpse that’s still moving around.”

“But I’m not dead, that’s a misconception,” the vampire said.

“Do you think they care?” Dae asked. “You must have grown up somewhere very sheltered if you think violence like that has a limit.”

“You seem able to discern so much about me,” the vampire said. “I can’t imagine why you would need my name.”

“I don’t,” Dae said. “But I am curious why you hate the Dawn March so much?”

“But…I…” the vampire said. “I don’t hate them.”

“Really?” Dae said. “I do.”

Daelynne’s attention didn’t leave her bottle of celebratory whiskey when the vampire entered the tavern’s common room. His arrival only registered in her awareness because of the spray of rain the raging wind outside carried in before he could close the door. Nature had little joy to share on the night of the Sixth Unification Gala it seemed.

Or maybe the tavern was sunk under Daelynne’s own personal little storm cloud. A faint upwards flicker tugged at her lips. She could appreciate a little hate from nature. It would fit her mood so charmingly.

So would more whiskey, she decided. She reached for the bottle to refill the cheap glass she was forcing herself to sip from. Drinking straight from the bottle would have been more efficient, but she’d done that before and the bottle always emptied out well before she was ready to stop drinking. The forced pacing of filling the shot glass ensured that she’d get to enjoy every miserable, bitter drop of the nameless rotgut she hadn’t yet paid for.

It also ensured that Half-Cut Joe, the dwarf who ran the place wouldn’t try to double charge her, claiming he’d taken the first bottle away and brought her a second one. She’d had a discussion with Joe about that sort of thing before, but since they’d only broken each others faces and not any of the furniture or liqueur stock, Daelynne was still tolerated as a patron and Joe wasn’t doing time in the Watch’s jail.

The vampire intruded on Daelynne’s consciousness again when he made the mistake of bumping her table. To his eternal good fortune, she’d just lifted the whiskey bottle but hadn’t yet begun pouring the next drink.

Daelynne snaked a hand out, fast as a lightning bolt, to catch the empty shot glass. That she managed to do that only after the table tumbled over and shot glass glass hit the floor was a was a reflection where the missing two thirds of the bottle had gone, but she wasn’t in the mood to contemplate that.

Sparks of rage flared in the depths of her soul as she looked up at the vampire and forced the wheels in her mind to turn.

He hadn’t slammed her table intentionally. The idiots standing to his side had shoved him. These were the same idiots who’d been bragging all night at their prowess with women when not a single one of them was with a female on a night of authorized excess and wanton abandon.

“Watch it,” Daelynne said, the drink rendering her voice deeper and more hoarse than she’d guessed it would.

“My apologies,” the vampire said.

He was tall, but thin and pale, like many of his kind were. Daelynne didn’t look many people in the eyes, and vampires in particular were dangerous in that regards, but she scanned his face anyways.

His features were solid and handsome enough. A good balance and symmetry between cheeks and eyes, nose and mouth and chin. A touch too angular to fit Daelynne’s tastes but he could have been popular enough based on appearance if not for the overwhelming red of his eyes and the pulsing red veins that spread outwards from them.

The vampire was smart enough to close his mouth after speaking but Daelynne knew his fangs would show the moment he spoke. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t a threat.

Satisfied with his answer, she turned her gaze away from him and focused instead on the bottle in her hand. The vampire hadn’t feed in days from what she saw, but the tavern wasn’t a place for feeding. She wasn’t in any danger and, more importantly, neither was the whiskey, so she could let him slip away, the same as she wanted the rest of the world to do.

“That’s right you’re sorry,” one of the bravos from the other table said.

The vampire tried to ignore the men, but another one of them grabbed his hand as he

started to walk towards the bar.

“We don’t like your kind here,” the second bravo said, in case his gesture was mistaken for a mark of affection.

“Then let me pass, and I will be out of here sooner,” the vampire said and snapped his hand free from the bravo’s hold. Without waiting for an agreement from the table of boisterous men, the vampire crossed the room to the bar and began speaking quietly to the bartender.

Daelynne looked around for her shot glass, but it had rolled somewhere, or shattered, or possibly both. She was two thirds of a bottle past caring, and since her plans for pacing her consumption had fallen through so tragically, she got to work on disposing of the unsightly third that remained.

“Should have made him leave right now!” one of the men at the table said. He made sure his voice was loud enough to resound to the bar and back. Everyone in the small tavern had to hear what he wanted to say, most especially the target of his ire, who was ignoring the men in favor of his conversation with Half-Cut Joe.

It was a mistake. Daelynne wasn’t interested in either party, but she could see the mistake the vampire was making even from the depths of the bottle she was plumbing.

Ignoring the men wouldn’t get him anywhere. They were too worked up. It was a gala night, a kingdom-wide celebration of the beginning of the king and queen’s rule six years ago. People were supposed to be partaking in wild, unruly fun and yet the men were stuck in a meaningless little bar, drinking the same horrid crud they drank every night, with the same horrid, cruddy company they were always saddled with.

It’s always possible to fall farther in life. Even hitting rock bottom allows people to keep digging their hole deeper, but that wasn’t the problem these men had. They had jobs and lives and responsibilities but that wasn’t enough. They wanted power, and in the vampire they found a target they could abuse with little expectation of societal scorn.

Daelynne was willing to bet that half the men across from her truly believed that they were in the right to be up in arms against the intruder. Vampires had a terrible reputation and there were certainly ones that strove to live down to the worst that was said about them.

The one at the bar wasn’t in that mode though. He might have been terrible on any other night, but either natural inclination or his present circumstances kept him restrained. The men who were convinced of their righteousness wouldn’t believe that, and the other men didn’t care in the first place.

Whiskey sloshed around Daelynne’s mouth and no burning sensation followed it. It was just sour, bitter, foul swill that should be spit back into the bottle it came from. The cap had rolled away long ago though, so Daelynne swallowed and took another swig. No matter how awful the stuff was, it was never quite awful enough.

Another few sips and at the bar, the vampire and Half-Cut Joe concluded their brief business. Daelynne didn’t bother looking to see if either was happy. No one else in the tavern was, and there didn’t seem to be a reason for them to be the exception.

While Daelynne struggled to down another gulp of the ruinous sludge in her bottle, the vampire left, taking the side door in preference to another encounter with the table of belligerent drunks. Sensing their prey escaping, the men stood in unison, a silent signal passing between them, the collective urge towards violence given release and form.

Duty tugged on Daelynne’s unwilling sleeve. Beneath her cloak, the sigil she wore called to her to stand up, to stop what was absolutely about to occur.

The weight of duty’s tug was less than the weight of the bottle in her hand though, and far less than the weight of the contents she’d already imbibed. No one would care. Either way. She could sit in the bar or she could venture into the storm. No would comment or even notice what course of action she chose.

Once, maybe, the sigil of the Dawn March had been a true promise, an unbroken oath. If so though that was far before Daelynne’s enrollment in their ranks. Since she’d donned the All Seeing Badge, it had looked outwards with nothing more than a blind eye. The mark of office on her breast was so tarnished that it’s call was drowned by even the last falling drops in an empty bottle.

With a sigh, Daelynne sagged into her seat and tipped her head back. The swimming, falling, emptiness that she sought eluded her though and her thoughts remained. She was trapped with herself until whatever pitiful dregs of alcohol there were in the whiskey could rally and overwhelm her senses.

“Want another?” Half-Cut Joe asked. He was clearing the table of the men who’d left but had an eye on Daelynne’s empty bottle.

“Sure, reinforcements are always good,” she said.

“Fine,” Joe said. “Pay for that one and I’ll find its twin.”

Daelynne grunted. The idiots had left without paying, so Joe was worried about the night’s take. Somehow, everything always become her problem.

She reached to her waist and slumped into her chair further. The commander had docked her pay for the last week, and so she’d run up dry. Through the too-thin haze of the cheap whiskey, she remembered her empty purse being the reason she’d settled on Joe’s place to spend the gala evening.

“Just bring the bottle,” she said. “I’ll pay for them both later.”

“Got a shipment coming in tomorrow,” Joe said. “You’ll pay now.”

“Two bottles now, and I’ll pay you for four,” Daelynne said.

“You’ll pay now or I’ll have those Watch boys back for your hide,” Joe said.

“Those guys were Watch?” Daelynne asked, her lassitude and disinterest taking on a new hue that was speckled with a dollop greed, and a smattering of repressed aggravation.

Nominally speaking the Dawn March’s charter involved oversight of the local Watch. So it was Daelynne’s professional responsibility to ensure the Watch was acting in an ethical and responsible manner. More importantly though, the Watch was paid before the gala. Which meant each of those men were flush with their week’s pay.

Daelynne rose onto feet that should have been more unsteady and rolled her shoulders.

“Where are you going?” Joe asked.

“Need to get your money,” Daelynne said, looking towards the door the vampire and the men had left through.

“That’s the Watch you’re dealing with there,” Joe said.

“I don’t think they ever told me that,” Daelynne said. “Maybe one of them will mention it if it’s important.”

Half-Cut Joe looked up at her and rolled his eyes.

“Bring back enough for their drinks too then,” he said.

Daelynne threw the hood of her cloak up over her head and didn’t make any promises. A full purse was nice to have, and Joe’s accounting for the watchman’s tab would inflate based on however much he could guess she took from them.

It didn’t take the “All Seeing Brilliance” of the Dawn March’s motto to observe where the vampire and the men had gone. The road was empty thanks to the pounding storm, but the sounds of a struggle were clearly audible over the rain and thunder.

Whispering simple words, Daelynne advanced on the alley and felt the mantle of her Pact settle into the material world.

Mystical energy coursed through her, energizing her body and mind as she soared through an inner transformation and joined with the slumbering spirit bound to the glyph on the back of her left hand.

When she stepped into the alley, she saw the half dozen men of the watch and she saw the vampire. The watchmen were smiling, demon grins of violence and power and the lust for both surging from their hearts. The vampire was not so cheerful. He lay against the wall, pain etched in every corner of his face and throughout his body. The watchmen hadn’t been able to work on him long, but they’d begun their task in earnest and without reservation.

That’s what Daelynne saw when she entered the alley. What the watchmen and the vampire saw was something very different. As Daelynne stepped into the mouth of the small space, they saw a figure clad head to toe in armor. In her hands lay a blade of flat iron with a seething glow. When she moved, she didn’t so much walk forward as slice through the air and space between them.

With six on one odds, the men had felt comfortable in their chances against a starving vampire. Against the Pact Warrior who stood before them, they would have fled even if they’d had ten times their number.

But she was blocking the only path out of the alley.