“It’ll be nice to have a pint, or two. It’s been such a week,” the portly soldier says. One of four making their way down a poorly lit and lonely dirt road. He towers over the others like a giant.

“And these lands always have a good yield since the new lord took over,” the stout one says. His dark eyes trying to pierce the fog surrounding them, following the path toward a distant light atop a hill. A lonely chill wind sends shivers down his spine.

“He manages well, but from a distance. He’s never been to town,” adds the slender one. He glances about at every noise, distant wind howling like wolves on the prowl. The dirt beneath his feet the only solace in this gloom. 

“Today won’t be the day to meet him boys. He’s away with the chief staff,” the last one says. His uniform bearing their orders sigil on the tunic, a swooping silver hawk on a sky blue field, marking him as a squire and their leader. The sword at his hip also has a silver hawk inlaid upon the pommel.

“It’s for the best, servants throw better parties anyway.” The portly one says.

“Good point Ken. Let’s just hope he doesn’t come back with orders to mobilize,” the slender one says.

“Whatever threat the East is facing, Rickard, is still a ways off from our borders,” the squire says.

“Yes squire Xavier,” he replies.

The group reaches the base of the hill, their destination finally more than an outline in the darkness. A two story residence caught somewhere between a castle and a manor house, a squared frame with towers at all four corners. The first floor is stone all the way round, but the second is clearly wood. Black tile lining the rooftops, turrets included. The lords banner comes into view as the fog clears before them, an ash gray wolf howling at the moon on a field of brownish red. The color of dried blood.

They reach the portcullis and find a single servant guarding the gate, “leave your arms at the door,” he says. “Two steel Deniers to enter. Each.”

“So many arms,” Squire Xavier says, looking in to see a mass of swords, messers, daggers, and spears. “Have other militia been by?”

“Not as of yet,” the usher says. “Farmers seem to have a bit of paranoia these days.” He looks them up and down, noting their attire. All the milites are wearing gambeson armor with leather jerkin and a barbute helm, buckler at their side with a sword.

“With good reason it seems,” says Rickard. He looks from face to face amongst the crowd inside, recognizing few.

“We have many new faces,” the stout soldier says.

“Not to worry Evin, just a passing crowd of vagabonds,” Ken says, “I see many crop gleaners here tonight.”

They hand over their sword belts to the servant and each produces a dagger hidden in various places among them. Now unarmed, they enter the great hall. Beautiful wood floors spread out before them, covered in sweet smelling flowers and rushes. Double height walls of lacquered wood are covered with tapestries depicting great battles of years past. The raucous laughter of the assembled guests is like the sounds of pitched battle. The lords banner proudly hanging from every possible perch. A stair at the back leads up to a balcony encircling the entire hall. The only place with a guard. In the center of the hall a minstrel and harper play a lively tune. The crowd around them enjoying both the beauty of the music and the women playing it.

Xavier leads the way and steps into the throng of revelers. They’re clustered in groups of four to six around scattered barrels of beer. To the right lies a closed door with an usher standing ready to open it for any who has the coin. To the left are double doors that open to the dining hall, the smell of fresh cooking food enticing the senses. The aroma of meat pies and fresh baked bread lingers in the air, masked by the stench of the beer being passed around and spilled over every visible surface within this hall. They make their way towards the food.

Reaching the door, another usher steps in their path with hand extended, “copper Dinar to enter.”

They pay the woman and enter the feast. Two long tables take over half the room, filled with loud people eating a variety of foods. At the end of which sits the lords table, devoid of any guests, no one would dare sit at his table even when he is not present. Another harper and minstrel play their tunes from behind the table.

Evin steps forward and says, “Finally time for that pint, hand me your mugs and save me a seat.” He collects their mugs and makes his way to the barrels in the center of the room.

“Squire Solamo,” shouts a voice from across the room. He looks around and sees a familiar face seated at the far end of the tables. “Come join us, we have plenty of seats,” says the man. The rest of the group makes their way to the empty seats.

“Thank you Good Sir Joseph,” Xavier says, “how have your lands been? We haven’t needed to pass by in a while.”

“We’ve resolved our differences,” he says. Joseph rises to greet them as they reach the table. He stands nearly as tall as Ken, massive in his own right. His dark hair and features contrasting Ken’s blonde hair and blue eyes. “Enough work talk, we’re here to eat, drink, and be merry.”

“Heavy on the merry,” Ken says.

“You remember my brother Mark,” Joseph says. A smaller version of himself rises to greet them.

“Of course,” Xavier says, “how could we forget either of the sons of Gonsal.”

A cupbearer appears over the seated men’s shoulders to take their order, “what can we get you men?” she says, then places bread and butter on the table.

Xavier says, “fish and pottage for four, and can you have the minstrel play something happier?”

“Of course,” she says and disappears into the crowd.

Xavier looks around the room, noting the doorways and how many people stand between him and them. Mostly farmers and laborers, they wouldn’t pose much of a challenge. He sees Evin snaking his way through the crowd, two mugs in each fist, laughing and chatting with all he passes. He returns with another farmer.

“Your pints boys,” Evin says, “we have a nice golden ale here and the other barrel is a lager.” He hands out the drinks and takes a seat. "Ken, I believe you know Serf Andrew." The other man greets the milites and sits next to Ken. 

"Long time," Ken says, "how've you been?"

"Can't complain," he says. 

"One of our tenant farmers," Joseph adds, "he does good work."

"Have some bread," Xavier says and passes a loaf.

Ken takes out a silver butter knife and passes it to Andrew, "It's better if it's not dry."

Several trips to the barrels later the groups hunger is setting in, their collective bellies rumble and twist. The loaves of bread provided aren’t sufficient. Ken rises from his seat to check just as the cupbearer returns with a tray. His eyes focus on the salmon filets, his nose tells him they’re drenched in butter, mouth watering in anticipation. He gulps an imaginary bite as he watches the food set down on the table. A filet for every man, more bread, and bean pottage to round out the meal.

“Enjoy your food,” the cupbearer says then returns to her duties.

“Rickard, did you bring it?” Xavier says.

“Of course, I can’t leave home without it.”

“What’s this then?” Andrew asks.

“Spices,” Xavier says. “Our own blend of salt, peppercorn, garlic, long pepper, and saffron.”

Joseph takes a big whiff of the seasonings. “Smells like it’s mostly garlic.”

Rickard finishes spreading a moderate amount over his dish, “It is. Would you like some?” He passes the container over to Joseph. Who looks at it suspiciously.

Andrew takes it from his landlord’s hand, “Why not,” he says. Then he sprinkles a liberal amount all over what’s left of his food. His third bowl of bean pottage.

Xavier seasons his food next with an overpowering amount. He reaches out to pass it to Evin, but he’s gotten up, pint in hand. He walks off toward the barrels. Ken snatches the seasoning and puts a pinch over his dish, then another. After a quick prayer of thanks, they set to devouring their portions.

With a clean plate before him, Xavier sits back and leans in his chair giving his stomach room to digest. He looks around the table, notices something, and stands to look around. “Evin hasn’t returned yet.”

Ken looks around the hall and judges this to be true, “He probably went off with some girl.”

“We should check on him,” Rickard says.

Xavier tucks his chair in under the table, “Wait here, I’ll find him.”

He makes his way to the door of the great hall. Glancing at everyone he passes, his eyes travel from each man’s face, to his hands, then belt line and boots. The usher doesn’t seem to have noticed him walking by, but does make a note of him for re-entry. At the closest barrel of beer to the door he approaches the men gathered around. “Excuse me, have any of you seen one of my men come down this way?” They’re serfs and bandsmen, the lowest class that could afford to enter. But go no further than this hall.

A bandsman speaks up, “I think I saw one headed that way, right sir squire.” He points with his chin toward the rear of the great hall. Xavier’s eyes follow the gesture to a door he hadn’t noticed the first time.

“Have you asked the guard?” asks another.

Xavier nods his gratitude and walks to the guard. Posted from there in the back he’d have a clear view of everyone who comes and goes.

“Greetings, have you noticed one of my men about?” He asks.

“Headed that way,” he points to the far side. “Either in the stalls or study.” 

“Thanks for narrowing it down.”   

After another quick glance at the assembly, he decides to try the stalls first. The unnoticed door from before. Opening the door to the stalls stops Xavier dead in his tracks. The stench lays heavily within. His eyes burn and water from the overwhelming odor of human refuse.

“Evin, are you in here?” After a moment with no reply, he enters. Going down the short hall he swings open the door to the first stall, no one inside. Then the next, another empty stall. And down the row he goes. Five stalls and several drunks later he hasn’t turned up. Xavier leaves the stalls and takes a deep breath of relatively fresh air. The stale smell of spilled beer and body odor is much preferred to whatever was in those stalls. “Must be in the study”.

He walks over to the first door he noticed on his way in, right to the usher.

“One copper Denier to enter.”

“Have you seen one of my men come this way?”

“Haven’t noticed. Coming in or not?”

“Here’s your coin.” He tosses it to the usher a little harder than necessary. Stepping through what seems like a portal to another world he scans this new room. It’s a center fed room, ornately decorated, and well lit. Shuttered oil lamps in the corners compliment the fireplace in the middle of the far wall. Casting odd shadows while illuminating everything inside. Cushioned chairs and benches form a circle around a beautiful rug at the center of the room, the lords’ sigil woven into the design. A jester performs in this center juggling five balls and dancing. The room offers comfortable seating for eight, so naturally there’s only five men in the room. All known to the squire for one reason or another. The miller, the smith, the carpenter, a linen merchant, and a cottar like the sons of Gonsal sit drinking wine and eating small cakes.

“Worthy Sir Solamo, good of you to join us,” the miller says. “Come, do you have any news of the lords' travels?”

The smith sits up at that, “yes, come now, surely you’ve met the man.”

“Only once, and it was very brief. Have any of you seen one of my men come this way?”

The miller laughs and says, “Are your men paid well enough to join us?”

“Not likely, but I must ask.”

“Have you checked with the guard?” asks the carpenter. “He seems the attentive sort.”

“I’ll have to have a word with him then.”

Xavier exits the study and makes his way back to the guard. Eyes scanning the crowd for Evin as he goes. He greets the guard and asks, “Are you sure you haven’t seen my man come back this way?”

“No one comes this way.”

He notices behind the guard, in the shadows, is another door. A small light emanates from the edges. “Step aside, I’ll search myself.”

He steps forward toward the guard, hand raised to shove him aside. The guard braces the push and returns it with equal force. “No one comes this way.”

Xavier stops, grabs the guards' arm, wrenches it behind his back, and spins him around throwing him face first into the banister. He pulls him back and delivers a swift knee to the sternum. The guard collapses on all fours gasping for air. Looks up with bloodshot eyes, veins straining against his flesh, a wheezing cough all the sound he can muster. And Xavier delivers another blow straight on the side of his eyes. Like a sack of potatoes, the guard flops to the ground. Unmoving and unconscious. “Really should’ve let me check for myself.” He looks around the hall, only a minor disturbance by their standards.

He reaches for the doorknob. Heart pounding and fingers trembling. Slowly opens the door out toward him. “What in the name of the gods?” He says.

He stands perfectly still. Shocked into paralysis. Before him, in the center of a beautifully decorated library, stands an equally beautiful being. Perfect features, long hair glistening in the poor light within, slender limbs outstretched. And caught in his hypnotic gaze stands Evin, motionless. At his back is a pretty girl standing in a daze. At his feet are two vagabonds slumped in a bloody heap. Throat ripped out but not nearly enough blood on the floor. The magnificent being looks away from his prey and up at Xavier. An unexpected intruder. His bloody maw speaking inhuman sounds. “Who are you?”

Xavier snaps out of his daze and attempts to regain his composure. Steadies his breathing and plants his feet. “Let go of my man,” he says. Before he can decide to move further in the room he’s upended and pinned to the floor. The creature straddling him and exerting more force than he can believe possible. “What witchery is this? Let me up.”

He struggles to no avail. The monsters face hangs in eerie silence, bloody drool dripping down on him. As defeat sets in he relaxes his arms and stops struggling. His mind succumbing to a drunken daze. In a last defiant act, he spits in this monster's eye.

“Gahh,” it screams. A high-pitched noise like a bats cry, echoing in Xaviers skull. In a blur of movement, the thing is gone. Disappeared into the shadows from whence it came.

“What was that?” He asks. “Evin. Are you awake?” He grabs Evin’s still form and shakes him. “Come to your senses man.”

“What?” Evin says.

“Come. We’re leaving.”

Xavier grabs Evin by the sleeve and drags him out of the room, across the great hall, and back into the dining hall. Without so much as a glance to his surroundings Xavier reaches the table.

“He was with that girl, wasn’t he?” Ken asks.

“We’re leaving. Collect your things. Cottars, you should come too.”

“What’s going on?” Joseph asks.

“No time to explain. Let’s go.”

Rickard turns to Evin and says, “What did you do?”

“I, I don’t know. What’s happening?”

Xavier grabs the nearest two men and drags them to their feet. Then he turns to leave.

Straight to the vestibule and portcullis he goes. Grabs the door man and says, “Our arms.”

They all get their weapons tucked back into position, helms on. The Cottars don their messers. Ken looks up and around, “anyone else notice the music’s stopped?”

Andrew turns back to the great hall and sees the assembled host lying down. Fog flowing down from the balcony above. Torches down to a flicker. “What happened?”

A loud crash startles the group. They turn back to the exit to find it barred. The portcullis has dropped.

“Door man,” Xavier says. “Do your job and open that gate.”

“Raise the portcullis,” Rickard says.

“Hmm? Huh-uh,” Evin says then slumps over unconscious.

“Seriously,” Andrew says, “what is happening?”

“And what’s that fog?” Rickard says.

Joseph grasps a spear then says, “arm yourselves.”

Mark fumbles his messer and lifts it to an overhead ready stance, trembling.

“I don’t know what this is,” Xavier says. “Only that it means to kill us.”

The household staff begin to rise. Still unconscious. Their limp forms propel forward at inhuman speeds. The remaining men still standing defend themselves against a feral assault. Furious limbs rake across cloth armor and gouge chunks. Hesitant steel comes down on soft flesh rending it asunder. Bones break, tendons snap, and once vibrant bodies fall lifeless.

The study door opens and out comes sleepy denizens, trying to stay awake. Their confused faces twisted in shock at the sight before them. They soon collapse to join the others in their forced sleep.

From the newly opened door comes a ferocious growl. A flash of gray fur speeds passed the group, rebounding off the walls. The howling form pounces at Joseph. Mass of muscle that he is, it proves no match for this beast. He’s thrown back into the gate.

Andrew rushes forward to help and is caught unaware by the beast. He falls to his knees. A gaping wound where his throat once was. His body collapses as his lifeblood spills out of him.

Joseph screams and rushes to his tenant, cradling his motionless body. Tears well up in his newly focused eyes. He rises up, tracking the bounding form. Steps into its path mid leap and grabs it about the body. Tree trunk like arms holding it firm.

Ken rushes up and grabs the animal by the hind legs. It’s form clearly a wolf, frothing at the mouth and mangy. The rabid beast thrashes against its captors. Xavier steps forward and drives his dagger into the beast’s brain, stilling it. The motionless body drops. And Joseph crushes its head with his massive boot.

“Get that gate raised,” Xavier says. “Ken and Rickard on me.”

The dead form before them twists and contorts. Muscle stretches, bones pop and snap, fur falls from the corpse. The wolf transforms to a man. The bloody face seeming familiar, the jester Xavier had seen in the parlor. 

A deep laugh echoes in the hall. The sound bouncing around so much no one can pinpoint the source. They scan the room to no avail then start moving further in. Xavier leads his men to the center of the hall. A scratching sound diverts their attention from behind, then a shuffling sound spins them again. A thump causes them to turn inwards on their formation. There it stands. This beautiful but alien creature, pale skin, red eyes, and serrated fangs come face to face with Xavier. Its arms lash out with minimal force and throw the others clear across the room.

“You’ve caused me enough trouble,” the thing says.

With one hand it grabs Xavier by the collar and raises him over head. His gambeson tears letting slip loose his silver pendant. It grazes the creatures exposed limb and burns on contact. He drops his prey to the ground. The wound sizzling, it leaves behind blackened flesh. Xavier takes the opportunity to stab forward, striking the chest dead center. No effect. He smites him with his buckler and pushes him back. Right into the path of Kens charge.

Ken tackles the creature to the ground and smashes his buckler into its face over, and over, and over again. Rickard stabs the creature in the heart with his dagger drawing out a pained howl. He gets a slash to the chest and neck for his efforts.

“This thing won’t die,” Rickard says from the ground. Spewing like a fountain, he collapses in a pool of his own blood.

Ken stabs his sword into the creature, then his dagger. Xavier comes over and stabs his dagger in as well. Now a pincushion, the creature still struggles against its foes. Xavier grabs Kens silver butter knife and jams it into the things heart. It drops, hard.

“There was nothing else left,” Xavier says.

“The butter knife did more than my sword.”

A now limp form lays slumped in a pile. It’s still trying to move. Straining against whatever force is binding it.

“How’s that gate coming?” Xavier asks.

“Almost all the way up,” Joseph says. “Maybe if we had more help.”

Ken runs over and helps them finish raising the gate.

“Mark, lock the portcullis. Ken, check on Rickard.” Xavier says. He grabs Evin to drag him out. “While it’s down, everyone grab someone and escape.”

Ken makes his way to Rickard and turns him over. His face goes pale at the sight. He looks over to Xavier and meets his gaze, no words need be said.

Three trips dragging out the unconscious visitors later they re-enter and see the creatures form is nearly free of its imprisonment. Long limbs regaining its composure in slow jerking motions.

“What do we do now?” Ken asks.

“Joseph, grab me that candelabra.” Xavier says.

“Light the carpet and tapestries,” Joseph says. “We’ll burn this house down around that beast.”

“Precisely what I was thinking.”

Xavier takes his candles with their faint fire and puts the tapestries on the wall to light. The creature finally manages to pull the knife out and free itself from its paralysis. It lunges at Xavier and pins him to a burning wall.

“Burn this house down,” he says to his men.

The creature turns to look at the others and is caught by another spit in the eye. It burns and oozes. Xavier takes his pendant and shoves it into the creatures’ mouth. Blisters and boils appear on its now trembling face, some semblance of color returning. Xavier grabs a candle and pushes it directly into the things face. It reels back in pain. Joseph comes up behind it and lifts him high overhead, tosses him into the staircase, then lights the carpet train beneath his own feet. The fire traveling to engulf the stairs.

“One more trip boys,” Xavier says. He picks up Joseph’s spear and throws it at the creature, impaling it to the steps.

“We save who we can,” Joseph says.

They each drag another body out, the fire spreading to the whole house. Muffled cries come from the creature as it rips and tears at itself to attempt to gain freedom.

They stand outside and watch the fire consume every living thing inside. And everything else as well. The screams fizzle out as the fire rages on. 

“What was that thing?” Joseph says.

“No clue,” Ken says. “Sorry about Andrew.”

Joseph nods and pats Ken on the back, “and about Rickard.”

Mark steps forward and says, “We need a drink.”

They all nod in agreement and turn away from the fire to the pile of unconscious peasants. The nights work is not yet done. The sleeping forms begin to stir.

Xavier comes over to the others, after checking the survivors for injury, and says, “Come on, we’ll need the night watch. Then we can have that drink.” He turns back to the other survivors, “and we’ll need to explain whatever this was to them.”

Mark looks around the ruined manor and says, “And we’ll have to explain this to the lord as well.”

“That is a problem for another night,” Xavier says.