November 10th, 973
Camp outside Northmarch, Dawn
The morning was pale and quiet.
Mist lay low between the trees. The fire had burned down to a bed of dull red coals, breathing faintly beneath ash. Somewhere in the brush, something small rustled—then reconsidered its life choices.
Ant was already awake. She sat just beyond the last warm reach of the firelight, boots aligned with geometric precision, cloak folded as if the morning were subject to inspection. A folded paper rested in her hands.
It had been opened and closed often enough that the creases were beginning to lose discipline.
Wolfgang stirred first. He rolled onto one elbow, beard in mild rebellion, and squinted toward her. “You look like someone about to announce a tax,” he muttered. “And before breakfast, too. That’s indecent.”
Ant didn’t smile.
Wolfgang’s eyes sharpened immediately. “Hmm,” he said, pushing himself upright. “…Ant, if you’re planning revenue reform, at least wait until I’ve had oats.”
Shamus rose next, smooth and deliberate, like a man who expected ambushes but preferred coffee. “Ant?”
She looked up. Then down again at the paper. “I found this in my pocket last night.”
Her tone was calm in the way a locked door is calm.
She held it out and Wolfgang took it first. He read it once. Then again, slower.
His eyebrows climbed steadily upward as he progressed.
“Well,” he said at last, “that’s ambitious.”
Hunkle leaned over his shoulder. “Could just be a to-do list,” he offered helpfully. “I once wrote ‘steal back dignity’ after three ales.”
Ant regarded him without expression while Laveleen took the note.
It read:
You must acquire the following.
- A written judgment bearing your full name and the Crown’s seal.
- A fragment of Orcish script older than the Conquest.
- A promise freely given to someone who later betrays you.
- Blood willingly taken from your own hand.
- A document intended to erase someone you care about.
- Your signature on a document you knew was wrong.
You will later learn a ritual that requires all of them.
Do not attempt to substitute.
Do not attempt it early.
There was no signature. No embellishment. Just instruction. In Ant’s own handwriting.
Shamus studied her carefully. “You don’t remember writing it?”
“No.” She met his gaze without flinching. “But this is my hand. And my ink. And my phrasing.”
A small silence settled over them.
Wolfgang cleared his throat, as if unwilling to let solemnity establish tenancy.
“Well,” he said briskly, “if you’re going to start leaving prophetic notes in your own pockets, might I suggest upgrades? ‘Trust the dwarf’s coking.’ ‘Ignore cryptic hooded figures.’ ‘Do not bleed recreationally.’”
Hunkle nodded gravely. “Especially that last one. Blood’s messy.”
Merrythought brightened. “Or perhaps: ‘Avoid men named Gareth.’ A precautionary staple.”
Gareth lobbed a pebble in retaliation and it missed by a dignified margin.
Shamus exhaled softly—almost a laugh. “If this is something unnatural,” he said evenly, “we will handle it together.”
Ant’s shoulders loosened just a fraction. Cassyndra had been watching in silence. Not alarmed. Not amused.
Measuring. “It doesn’t feel new,” she said softly. “The ink is dry. But not old. As if it waited.”
That drew Ant’s eyes to hers. “Waited for what?”
Cassyndra considered that. “For you to look for it.”
The fire shifted. A coal collapsed inward with a faint sigh.
Ant folded the paper once more — neatly, precisely — and slipped it into an inner pocket she did not normally use.
Wolfgang stretched, reaching for the cookpot. “Well then,” he declared, “until your patron appears with another shopping list, I suggest we eat.”
Hunkle clapped his hands together. “Aye. If betrayal is on the agenda, let’s face it fortified.”
Merrythought added cheerfully, “I volunteer to betray no one before noon.”
Gareth grunted approval.
The mist thinned as the sun edged higher, breakfast began, and the forest resumed its ordinary sounds.
And though nothing in the world had visibly changed, something at the edge of the firelight felt slightly misaligned — as though one of Ant’s carefully aligned boots had shifted by a fraction no one else could see.
But she could.
And she did not look away.