Once the council's surprise at Fritz's sudden appearance had worn off, the meeting began, starting with the subject of their captive.

Fritz gave his opinion, one of leniency due to her surrender and willingness to talk. It wasn't received particularly well, even if none would directly challenge him.

"She can't be trusted. If she'll spill her secrets to you, she'll spill our secrets to them if she escapes," Earnest observed.

"They're a Pather, deadly. It's a danger to keep them here," Mrs. Washer protested.

"You need to waste a man's time to watch her, when he could be working somewhere else," Harry said.

"They tried to murder us," The madam huffed. "There needs to be punishment for that."

Fritz agreed to all these points, yet couldn't go back on his word to keep her alive. Also, he had the hope that when given a second chance to do right, she would take it.

"The punishment will be her imprisonment, and once the siege is broken, exile," Fritz stated.

The council still wasn't pleased, their faces sceptical, so Fritz challenged them. "Fine, if you're all so bloodthirsty, let's execute her. Which one of you will do it?"

Mel looked up in shock and fear, then tested the ropes binding her hands.

"We don't have an axe or blade suitable for the task, though a dagger will do the job just fine. Just a quick slash across the throat and it's done. Apart from all the blood." Fritz pulled free Mortal Edge and held its handle out to each of the Council in turn.

Earnest shook his head; Harry grimaced and also shook his head; Lady Fare paled and waved the blade away. The Madam scowled and sniffed in disdain, and Old Graf sighed wearily, bowed his head and stared at the ground. None took him up on the offer until the glaring Mrs. Washer stood and strode up to him and took up the dagger.

"Please, don't," Mel begged.

As soon as Mrs. Washer felt the cold weight of the blade in her hand and heard the woman's words, she paled. She stared at the bound woman for a few seconds before she glanced away, unable to meet the captive's gaze. Swiftly, Mrs. Washer handed the blade back with a tsking of her tongue.

"I'm not a lawman," she stated. "We'll give her to the guard."

The thought hadn't even occurred to Fritz, as he was so used to solving his own problems in his own way. Though what would he say to the drizzlers, that she was an attempted arsonist? Would they even listen to him? Would they even care?

No, he would rely on his own justice; it had served him well enough.

"No, we won't. I can't trust the drizzlers. We'll keep her here until I break the siege," Fritz announced.

Again, the Council were displeased, but since they no longer voiced their complaints nor called for death, he ignored their frowns.

He turned to the tough who was currently guarding the woman. It was not Tim, but a man built along the same lines and with similar features, perhaps a brother or cousin.

"Take her back to her room, and make sure she gets lunch," Fritz ordered. The man nodded and, without argument, enacted his commands.

When Mel had been escorted out, Fritz turned back to the Council and sat in the vacant chair at the head of the table.

"With that out of the way, I have some questions," Fritz said.

"I'm sure you do," Mrs Washer said tersely. "I suppose they would be about the battle spoils from yesterday."

They were not, as Fritz had entirely forgotten to claim his rightful share of what was found on the bodies. It said something as to his weariness that he had overlooked all that loot.

"That can come later," Fritz said, hiding his slip of mind. "I have other, more important, matters to ask of. Ones that have to do with improving the Refuge. Or rather, making it more habitable."

He stared pointedly at a trickle of water leaking from the roof and down the east wall.

"Need builders or carpenters for that," Old Graf said. "And roofers and workmen. And most importantly permission."

"Yes, and I'd like to get the repairs underway as soon as may be," Fritz said. "So my first question is: who owns the land and the buildings that make up the Refuge?"

"That would be Count Wavesreach," The Madam said.

The name felt familiar to Fritz, though he couldn't quite place why. He had always attempted to keep abreast of all the names and figures of the important houses, but there were so many, and he was still new to the affairs of the current nobility. Just the ties of blood and marriage were a complex and confusing web to crawl through, and that went triply so to the stature of their standings and the whole of their holdings.

Still, Wavereach had some connection to him; he was sure of it, even if he didn't quite know why.

"Wavereach?" Old Graf asked. "That's not right, is it? When I paid the rentman, mind you, this was years ago, maybe decades, it wasn't to one of Wavereach's men. It was to a Tidewatch? Or Watchtide? Or Highsea?"

Fritz's gut twisted as some looming worry washed over him, and a pernicious prediction crept into his skull.

"Highship? No, that's not right, either," the old man grumbled as he searched his memories. "Tidesreach? Highreach?"

As the man rattled off names coming ever closer to his own, Fritz felt his innards squirm and had to steel his face into a mask of polite interest so as not to show his distress.

"It was Hightide," The Madam said with exasperation. "They died, or fell out of favour with the King. And Count Wavereach was given their land. Apparently, they harmed that house somehow."

There it was, the source of that creeping worry. Fritz could have groaned, he could have yelled, he could have raged, but he didn't.

"I see. And with the death of this house of Hightide, this area suffered and sunk further into poverty?" Fritz asked, sure that things had been better while his family ruled here.

"Not really," Old Graf said. "Less rentmen back then, but the same old sinkin'. Same old starvin'."

"Can't say I've noticed much change," Harry added. "This place has been mostly ignored ever since I was a lad. Part of the reason it's the way it is."

Fritz's stomach fell as his fears were realised in full. This land, these buildings, and all the decrepitude that came with it, used to be his House's. The fact that it should be his by right made him feel responsible for the contemptible conditions in this sinking section of the desperate district. It was an irrational thought, an illogical conclusion. He had never ruled here, nor even knew of these holdings, yet he still felt a deep dereliction of his noble duty.

"One Lord is the same as any other," The Madam said. "Though the Hightide was a Lady. A lovely, charming and gentle one by all accounts, but a highborn Lady nonetheless. Having more care for dresses and royal balls than for the managing of her lands or estates."

Those words, those insults, struck at Fritz's heart, and hot tears threatened to pour forth from his eyes as fury roiled in his chest. His blood pounded in his ears, and with an effort of Control and Focus, he just managed to stop from screaming. In a moment of clarity born of his practised mental Attributes, he activated the Amulet of Repose, using its second Ability: Calm.

It was like a thick, warm blanket was thrown over his mind; it suffocated the buzzing in his brain and stilled his writhing spirit, wrapping his fervour tightly.

Fritz had been hoping that, perhaps, this small part of the Sunken Ring had been silently prosperous and had fallen into ruin due to the circumstance of his parents' demise.

He had suffered in the gutters and knew just how bad it could get. He blamed the king, the nobles, the drizzlers, the gangs and the Nightshark. They all shared fault, always taking and taxing, never fixing or building.

The possibility that his mother had also been such an uncaring ruler, who had a hand in the despair of those who dwelt in the districts, sickened him. He cursed whatever cruel coincidence led him here, led him right to the people his House had failed.

Thankfully, the calming effect of the amulet soothed those gnashing, nauseating thoughts, letting him return to the moment, only to find the table staring at him with some fear.

"What?" Fritz asked.

"That glow? What was it?" Lady Fare asked.

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"That glow?" He replied.

"That glow. You closed your eyes, and then there was a grey glow from under your shirt. Then it went all around you," Earnest provided.

"Oh, that," Fritz said. "It was an Ability."

"What kind?" Earnest asked eagerly.

"That's very rude to ask. You know better, Earnest," Mrs. Washer reprimanded.

The boy scowled and looked ready to say something snide and scornful, but Fritz didn't want to get caught up in any bickering, so he moved on to his next set of questions. Ones concerning the layout and most sturdy buildings of the territory. And when those queries were answered, he told them his plans for inviting Ame and Naomi into the territory.

There was no dissent there, having some skilled alchemists would bring both trade and health to the Refuge. Even if there was the danger of an experiment or potion going awry, the benefits outweighed the evils by far. At least, that's what Fritz opined.

Then it was back to the talk of repairs, cleaning, clearing and gutter unclogging. All tasks that would need to be done. And although they were being attended slowly by those with some effort to spare, not many had the luxury of time or Stamina after working their jobs or struggling to survive by thieving or begging. So it was that Fritz gave the Council most of the gold he had on him to entice any of those who were eager for some 'honest' employment.

When he was an urchin, rowing boats and running messages had been his main method of procuring coin the 'proper' way. But it was hard and it paid a pittance, the copper triads spent on thin meals that could barely carry him through the backbreaking work. Burglary and pickpocketing paid better, quicker and with less effort. And the only catch was the chance of being caught, beaten and conceivably killed. Though all you had to do was beat those bleak odds... every time.

It was no wonder, then, that he had gone down the more risky and rewarding path; it was akin to Climbing the Spires, and he was a Climber through and through.

This donation was born of both guilt and genuine need, with those jobs taken care of, all would see some benefit, even if it was just a less flooded street in the mornings. Fritz also had hope that it would help some of the dispossessed and dispirited. Perhaps helping them find their feet after being swept away by some chaotic personal calamity that was all too common for those in the drowned district. Be it sickness, poverty, habits or just bad luck.

The Council was surprised at his sudden, easy generosity and his understanding of the lives lived by those in the gutters. Perhaps they still thought him a highborn or a foreigner, playing at being a gang boss and ignorant of the way of their dark, damp and dreary existence. He couldn't blame them too much if they suspected that; he did cultivate quite the mysterious, menacing, air down here.

"Onto another point," Fritz said. "Harry, I want a militia."

"What? The King wouldn't allow it. That would be treason," he quailed.

"Not a militia, then," Fritz corrected. "Just a local guard that protects the refuge and reports to the council."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"That's awful close to a militia," Old Graf said.

"Preposterous, the nobles have personal guards, this is the same," Fritz said. "We'll keep it small, nine men at most. Can you collect some tough folk willing to fight for the refuge? The upstanding kind, if you can find them."

"I could, it will take a couple of days. They will need coin to leave their jobs. And they won't be Pathers," Harry said.

"That's fine," Fritz said. "We will pay them and arm them out of the battle spoils, once I've deemed them fit for their roles. Can't have the Refuge 'protected' by the same kind of thugs as before. Otherwise, what was the point?"

Harry nodded, though Fritz's voice was one of confidence and calm, a reassuring song, the man still had misgivings. Right now, that didn't matter, they would soon see the results for themselves. There were other things to organise, but Fritz trusted the Council to know what was best for their people, and where the gold was most needed. And so the meeting continued.

Of course, they argued amongst themselves, each looking out for the interests of those who looked to them. Fritz mediated as well as he could, but grew frustrated, eventually splitting the coin equally to each council member to use as they saw fit. It wasn't a great solution, it wasn't even a good one, but until he knew the true ins and outs of the territory, he would have to leave it to those who knew it well.

Once that had been settled and the burgeoning factions had been mollified, lunch was served to them in wooden bowls. Hearty stew with mysterious meat and various vegetables, and a side of coarse bread. Fritz cracked the waxy exterior of his small loaf and let the brown-green broth soak its absorbent insides, softening it enough to eat. The outside remained just as tough, the crust serving as a spoon until it was time to crunch that down too.

It was quite good, one of the better stews he'd had in recent memory, though it was likely his hunger coloured his tastes so. Still, it was good to see the Councillors enjoyed some benefits for their troubles, and weren't simply left frustrated and to fend for themselves.

He wondered if the rest of the Refuge ate as well as them, so he asked as much.

"No," Old Graf said without guile. "But with the gold you've given me, I'll make sure the children don't go hungry. I'm sure the coin can stretch for some months if we're frugal."

Fritz nodded, and even through the haze of Calm Emotion, he felt a pang of sympathy for the urchins. He slid another couple of triads to the man. "Keep them fed."

With a gnarled, tremor-prone hand, he took them and gave a grateful nod. The others noticed the action, but they could hardly complain about feeding hungry children. Motes of what could have been approval floated above and around their heads. Fritz suspected had earned some genuine goodwill, rather than the fear-fuelled authority he'd achieved by flaunting his power and felling their foes.

Gold was good for that. It was good for a lot of things.

While they ate, Fritz asked for the Treasures from the battle to be brought to him. They were hidden nearby in a cabinet, and the bundle containing them was set on the table and opened. There weren't as many as he'd been hoping; only seven items sat on the cloth. Though he knew any amount of Treasures were a great windfall, he was mildly disappointed at the meagre pile.

Perhaps his successes in the Spires had spoiled him.

There was a staff of white wood, a broach of jet in the shape of a squid, half a pair of brass knuckles, a full pair of socks, a mana lantern and two pebble-sized rocks that Fritz recognised as message stones. Amongst the objects there was also the pale white card of a Know-note.

"This is all you found?" Fritz asked.

"There were some magical things, like glowstones, but they were given out or sold already," Harry said hesitantly, obviously afraid of rebuke.

Fritz frowned and the Madam went on to explain their actions.

"It had to be done, keeping everything would have caused a fuss, and you couldn't hope to stay all those thieving hands. We gave away the cheap to hold onto the expensive."

Fritz frowned further. It was he, Bert and Toby who had done all the killing, had stained their hands with more blood.

"That seems... ungrateful," Fritz stated. "Unfair even."

"It is," Lady Fare said. "But graspers will grasp, and the desperate will do anything to survive."

Fritz nodded. He understood that plenty. If he were still powerless, he would absolutely cling to any small gain, whether he earned it or not. Most of the time, it was not.

There was also the fact he hadn't the time to waste rummaging through an assortment of merely magical items when he could be training, scouting or learning Techniques.

"Well, make sure that the wealth gained goes to help the territory," Fritz ordered.

The ransacking had already been done, and clawing back the items would only make it harder to earn the trust of the people of the Refuge. 'The Observations' said that mutual trust and implicit cooperation were the best way to keep a rebellion running smoothly. Not that this was such an uprising, not really. Though it felt like it was.

The Council seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, deflating as some tension left the room. Apparently, they assumed he was going to fly into a fury and demand they get the items back or some other recompense. Again, more motes of approval glimmered around the table, and he felt glad of that at least, though he would have preferred the gold.

Thinking of gold, he realised he still had to recover the stash in the safe, hidden in that drowned manor. It wasn't too far away, and perhaps it was no longer being surveiled. Still, that could come later, there were Treasures right in front of him.

"Do you know what these do?" Fritz asked, motioning to the arrayed items.

"We didn't have them identified by an expert. Our coin is too short for that," Lady Fare said.

"We found these because we bought a Know-note and used a trick to search for them," Earnest said proudly.

"So we'll have to guess?" Fritz asked.

"No, we tested them," Harry said. "The broach sprays slippery ink, the brass knuckle pushes things away, the socks are self-repairing. The lantern acts like a normal mana lantern, but it's a Treasure. Don't know what its Imbued Ability does. When we activated it, nothing seemed to happen. These two are message stones, but they're not linked to each other. And the staff, well, you saw that in the battle, it made that globe of light. It can also blind folk with some flash Ability."

Fritz nodded, and took each Treasure in turn, slipping them into his pockets and leaving the Know-note, the staff and the lantern. He did so stoically, grimly hiding his excitement. The broach, brass knuckle, staff and mana lantern, he could take or leave, but the message stones and the socks had truly piqued his interest and goaded his greed.

"I'll see if I can do something about the message stones, maybe find their proper pairs," Fritz said. "As for this lantern, let's just use this Know-note. I'll replace it later."

There was no objection, so Fritz picked up the slip of white card and placed it against the bronze metal of the Treasure. The words were quickly burned into the paper and he read:

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Treasure

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Shadow Banish Lantern

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Alignment:

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Capacity: 0/6

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Abilities Imbued

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Dispel Shadows

A flash of truth, a piecing light, cuts the gloom, and splits the night.

This Treasure dispels shadows in a small area around it.

Alignment: Arcane, Light.

Cost: Two.

Duration: None.

Refresh: One hour.

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Light

Brightly shine, clear as day, banish dark, light the way.

This Treasure sheds a bright light.

Alignment: Light.

Cost: One.

Duration: Three hours.

Refresh: None.

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Fritz immediately saw the value in the Treasure, as well as the threat it held to him personally. What would happen if this was Activated while he was Umbral Phased? And would it foil his Illusory Shadow? This lantern's Abilities could be trouble, though it was also powerful against a potential foe like Craig.

After deciding he wanted to keep this lantern close, he took it up by the ring on its top, then picked up the staff for good measure. Lauren was meant to be learning some quarterstaff fighting, so it might as well go to her for now. And if not, they could sell it or trade it away. If the Nightshark didn't want it back, that was.

Either way, he was taking all the Treasures. No one stopped him, or even begrudged him doing so, as they were rightfully his to use or give away as he pleased. And he had already been generous with his gold. Too generous, some might say, though that was one of his flaws; he was generous and gallant to a fault. A true gentleman in an age of greedy graspers. Or so he told himself.

With all the important decisions taken care of and his plans being put into motion, Fritz called an end to the meeting, then carried all his new Treasures away. When he was alone in Sid's room, he set down the staff and looped the brass lantern onto his belt, where it hung loosely. It was only a foot and a half tall, so it fit well enough, though it did bump against the hilt of Quicksilver. He adjusted it, hanging it on his right side instead, where it hid the grip of Mortal Edge.

Once all his Treasures were safe and secure, in pockets or hands, he made his way back to the lookout building and took his place there, watching the square as the day wore on.

There was little trouble from the gangs, apparently, since both the assaults had been thwarted, they were keeping their heads low and barely bothering the people of the Refuge as they came and went.

Fritz saw some of the Council hard at work, especially Harry and Mrs. Washer. Who both seemed the type to make sure everything was getting done in proper time. And in the case of Mrs Washer, getting it done the way she liked it. Though he had picked her out as his greatest detractor, she was curtly competent and knew how to keep people on task, when to hurry them along and when to make sure they should be being meticulous.

Harry, on the other hand, was more laid back, relying on respect rather than nattering and nagging threats to get his men moving. Still, he was too lenient with them, and they worked slower than was adequate.

The day passed, dusk arrived, and surely, the Refuge slid into night.

Craig and Toby made their appearance, and the night was rather uneventful. Their sparring was mercifully short and nearly painless. Mostly, Fritz suspected, because Craig was truly pleased with the knife bribe he had paid him the night before. He likely also wanted to test that poisonous edge further.

Soon, the two were gone, one said a warning about doing the jobs the Nightshark had set for him to do, and the other whispered to him that Jane would soon have answers about the Serum.

After that, it was more watching and waiting, and the besiegers remained inactive and inattentive.

Bert eventually appeared and made his way through the blockade without challenge. Fritz met him in the square, offered him a hug and the brass knuckle. He accepted the hug and said that he didn't need a Treasure to push things away, he could do that himself. Which was true. So with pockets full of Treasures and a staff slung over his shoulder, Fritz left the Refuge.

He made his way home and upon reaching it, stashed the staff and other Treasures in his armoury-closet. He didn't want to wake Lauren for the vault key at this late hour. Then he undressed and went to bed, attempting to get as much sleep as was left to him, despite the creeping fear plaguing him.

After all, he had a duel in the morning.

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