"You're Imperial, are you not?" 

The question was innocuous, but surprising to me nonetheless. 

The alderman and I stood outside, drinking a small cup of wine as the sun set and the stars began to blanket the night sky in ubiquitous illumination. It was truly a wonderful sight when you were far away from a large city like Altdorf or one of the many Tilean city states. The few torches lit outside were set about as almost a fashion choice, lighting up the finery alongside buildings and keeping the main crossways alight. It seemed the guards set along the walls had to carry their own light source, some with torches and others with oil lamps. I wondered what utility a lack of structured light was, but no doubt it was for some purpose I had yet to ascertain. For his part, Gregor von Ludendorf had seen the inquisitive look on my face. 

I gave him a smile. "Don't act so surprised. I can hear more than a hint of an imperial accent in you, herr Gregor." 

His brow raised. The man chewed on something I did not catch him pop into his mouth. "You've got a good ear. I have not thought of myself as a citizen of the empire for years now. I've been in this land, oh... two decades? More? I came here as a refugee like many people."

"I'm certain there are many men and women born in these lands." I said, turning to look back at the greenery, now a deep blue from the long shadows over the land.

"You're right, but when someone is born here, they have a thirst for adventure and a wish to explore, to create! The settled folk are the ones that fled from somewhere else." He explained, and then gave a chuckle. "Unless you're a lord, of course." 

"I hear this is the land of opportunity, is it not?" I pondered

"If you could have made your fortune where you came from, you would have. People only come here for a second chance, or to keep their heads on their shoulders. Which are you, herr priest?" He asked pointedly. I turned to regard him again, and not wishing to become too personal, I deflected. Though my mouth always ran away from me.

"Well, I'm always trying to keep my head on my shoulders." I quipped. "As for chances, I had mine and I squandered it, but that is a story for another time." 

It would not do to tell him of Camilla and I were lovers. We had not introduced ourselves as such. That would draw too many questions, and we were still so close to Tilea. I doubted there were many itinerant priests who spat in the face of his liege and left the party he was duty bound to protect in order to elope with a beautiful Tilean dancer. The alderman and I shared a few more pleasantries, and he took his leave, wishing to check on his wife and the dinner they were preparing. I had to admit I was nearly famished. Ah! Yes, I needed to make my mark on the house. Tomorrow if someone asked how I quelled the daemonic spirits, I needed something to point to. I gulped down the last bit of my wine and set the cup on the porch, before taking up my staff and and knapsack. 

I picked my way around the small garden out front easily enough, deigning to examine the house to sate what small guilt I had lying more than anything else. As I did so, I found I faced the near the back end of Zinoca, where the walls were thick and the traffic was little. Only a few storehouses and outhouses for the workers hugged the wall, with thick trees and foliage hugging the architecture. Even so, it seemed Sigmar was with me. As I looked, I saw a bit of movement. My eyes honed in, wondering why I believed I just saw something drop down the wall without a sound. I stopped, perfectly cloaked by the trees as what I imagined was the same figure flitted from one building to the other, dressed in dark clothing and moving like a serpent. 

I found that quite suspicious. 

I waited another moment, and then slunk out of the small bit of green between the houses and followed the figure, moving briskly but keeping back and to the shadows to keep my presence unknown. I held my staff like a spear, lower to the ground and ready to strike just in case. Seconds passed to a minute, and suddenly the figure rushed across the street, like a fox not wishing to be run down by an oncoming carriage. Luckily, they had traveled to my side of the street, and I awaited in the shadows. The figure, a man's size, stepped into the alleyway I hid within. Even veiled by dark cloth, I saw their eyes go wide when I stepped into the light. 

"Evening," I said, or I tried to. The flash of steel against the light was the only warning I had, but fate had it that my weapon was longer. The head of my staff rammed into their head even as they ducked, but to their credit they recovered swiftly. I spun my weapon to keep him at bay, but they timed their dodge perfectly, ducking and dodging before taking a leap, knife point out to gut me. They had not counted on the butt of my weapon however, and I slid it under their legs like a martial artist from Cathay. The figure tripped, falling to the ground. Even as they spun to try and catch themself, my staff flipped and I helped gravity along, slamming the heavy head of the staff into the back of their head. They hid the street like a sack of potatoes. 

Ugh, now I was even hungrier. 

I knelt down and took the knife from their nerveless fingers as a precaution, but oddly enough, there was a message wrapped around the hilt. Gingerly I unrolled it, and I gasped.