When Fritz awoke, it was to a cold plate of dinner, mashed vegetables and fried toad-man-alike on his bedside table. He'd slept right through the intruder's entrance, though he did vaguely remember waving Cassandra in and signing to leave the meal where he now found it.

The fatty, greasy meat was unappetising in its lukewarm state, but he choked it down all the same.

After eating, he revised his letter to Count Wavereach and found it full of flaws, both in the wordage and the wavering lines. He must have been more exhausted than he had thought, though it was also the case he had no experience in writing to a noble and politely asking a favour.

He decided to let the matter rest for now, while he wanted a meeting as soon as possible he couldn't risk offending the Count by not showing the due deference he 'deserved'.

Fritz quickly concluded that he should have Jess help him. She would know the ins and outs of such missives and requests since she was attempting to become an official scribe. She was also scheduled to teach this coming day so it coincided well enough with his plans. Unfortunately, that meant Bert had to stay another night at the refuge if he couldn't convince Toby to stay a night away from Jane. Which, on reflection, was a near impossible ask.

Standing from his bed and finding he still had his boots on, Fritz sighed. Then he prepared himself for another dreadfully dull night of skulking and sneaking.

---

Craig started Fritz and Toby off with their now customary bout of knife fighting. However, Fritz performed far better than the previous nights. So much so that the cutthroat even complimented him, in his own way.

"You're a bloody, slimy eel," Craig spat, just as Fritz slid past a black dagger aimed at his arm. "Why are you so slippery all of a sudden, learn some stupid Technique?"

"Yeah. Your one," Fritz lied. "Viper's Fangs really clicked with me after I stabbed a bunch of sneaky bastards crawling around my territory."

"Sid's territory, you mean," Craig said, spinning one of his blades into a downward grip and stabbing at a shoulder. Again Fritz dodged, he hadn't seen the attack coming, but he had felt it.

"Stupid damn Danger Sense," Craig growled. He sped up, daggers blurring while he changed up the angle of his attacks for a second time.

Fritz couldn't avoid all the stabs and slashes, just most of them, and soon was dealt a glancing blow on his upper arm.

Craig's sadistic grin swiftly fell when he saw that his dagger didn't even cut through the dark purple fabric of the shirt below Fritz's new, sturdy, black overcoat.

"I thought you had a way to fool my Danger Sense, or was that just talk," Fritz taunted, trying to shift the thug's focus away from the surprisingly tough sirensilk.

"I do, but I ain't about to show you," Craig said, his mood darkening.

"And here I believed that you were meant to be teaching us a few tricks," Fritz said.

Craig remained quiet and scowling, until he spat to the side and said, "You ain't good enough yet. And you ain't done enough jobs. You've only been out of the Spire for a week and you think you get to learn all my secrets! Piss off! I'm leavin'!"

In a swirl of shadow, he vanished before the pair could respond.

"Prick," Toby grumbled.

Fritz nodded, agreeing.

"Where do you think he went?"

"Probably to go sulk somewhere dark and unpleasant," Fritz supposed.

"Did you still want to spar?" Toby asked.

Fritz pulsed his awareness and vaguely felt Craig lurking.

"I don't want to, no. However, I feel as though we shouldn't neglect our practice, even for a night," Fritz said "Even if we're sore, tired or-"

"Have a broken arm?" Toby finished for him, nodding down at his strapped extremity.

"Correct," Fritz allowed.

Toby sighed, then he drew his dagger.

---

When their bouts were over, all of which Fritz won handily due to his opponent's condition more than anything else, Toby grumbled about his new heights of skill.

"Can't seem to land a hit on you anymore. It's bloody annoying. Is it this Danger Sense you picked up?"

"Yes and no," Fritz said attempting to be mysterious, but coming off self-satisfied. Even if the statement was mostly true.

Danger Sense indeed lent him a great deal of warning. And now that he didn't have to focus so hard on the fight, due to the acquisition of the Inevitable Blade, he was properly testing its limits.

It turned out that, while it couldn't be fooled by feints, a sudden shift could alter its prediction accordingly. There was also the flaw that when he wore armour he couldn't feel the harm coming. He had come to the conclusion that the Sense was limited to the feelings of his flesh and did not extend to what he was wearing or wielding.

Its interaction with Umbral Phase, however mysterious, seemed to be one of precedence, in that Danger sense wouldn't acknowledge that last line of defence as existing. Suppressed or unsuppressed as it was. It was an unexpected boon, and one Fritz greatly appreciated now that he finally thought about it. It was better that he have the chance to dodge before wasting the activation of such a mana taxing Passive, and having to wait on its three minute refresh.

These limits weren't anything new of course, they functioned just the same as before, but now that he was aware of how the Passives acted he could take more advantage of their strengths and mitigate their weaknesses.

He wondered if there was a way to alter that 'precedence', as he had come to call it. He wouldn't attempt to at the moment, he liked the current arrangement the way it was. But if either Passive changed through Evolution or Ascension, or if circumstance dictated, he would like the option to do so.

That was a question for his tutor. Once Sir Needle had stopped expanding on the proper way to care for a blade, that was.

Fritz was snapped out of his frustrated thoughts by a scoff.

"Some things never change," Toby stated. "Even now you stare off into nothing instead of staying in the moment. This is why you should've been a Striker or a Sage."

Fritz frowned, but Toby was right. For the most part.

"I'm fine in the Spires, and you know that," he protested.

"I don't know about fine. But better. I'd give you that," Toby said.

Fritz sighed. "My apologies. I have many tasks and troubles, sometimes they catch up to me and cloud my mind."

"Anything I can help with?" Toby asked.

"Can you take a watch at the Refuge tonight?" Fritz asked immediately.

Toby hesitated, looked down at his arm and sighed himself. "I'll talk to Jane."

Fritz hadn't truly thought he would say anything but no. He smiled warmly.

"Don't hold out too much hope," Toby said wryly.

"I'll hold as much hope as I'm allowed," Fritz said.

"Another thing," Toby whispered. "About the Blood Serum."

"Potent isn't it? Wish I had a vial right now," Fritz said smoothly.

Toby caught the warning. "Yeah, can't believe the bastard left without giving us any."

"But that's the Cutter for you," Fritz said. "As cruel as he is cunning."

Toby looked as if he'd swallowed something sour, but nodded, agreeing with the flattery aimed at the shadows.

"Right, let's study some wardbreaking. I still have a couple of hours before I have to switch with Bert," Fritz announced.

Toby nodded, and together they slipped into the dark, silent as shadows.

---

After some hours of study in the dim light of Wardbreaker's Den, Fritz finally found the means and method to ruin an alarm ward without it activating. If that ward adhered to the grammars used in Rain City, at least. It wasn't only the reading and long study that led him to this confidence, his practice, and success with the bittersteel dagger's sheath had also emboldened him greatly.

He was glad he discovered some other recourse when it came to wards. The 'shadow gloves' Craig purported he needed to weave were never going to work for him. Especially with the little guidance he'd received from the cruel man.

Sure, he didn't have the right mana alignment, but he still felt more than just sour over the whole situation. Only the thought of bittersteel poison slowly seeping into that cutthroat gave Fritz any sense of satisfaction. That act of delectable and deliberate defiance done during their deal, let him endure any slights and pains the idiot could put on him. And it made Dusksong dance.

Once Fritz checked over his encyclopedia one last time, he left the den, Toby joined him for a minute before they each strode their separate ways.

---

The siege still stood around the Refuge. Those thugs that remained, menacing and meandering, had lost much of their callous confidence and had become sullen and somewhat jumpy. Fritz wanted to walk through their blockade, flaunt his strength and put them further in their pathetic places, but he also knew that the Shade's power came from the shadows and any uncertainty he could cultivate in the gangs.

He would have to take to the streets and alleys and wage a war from the dark, striking key components of their organisation. If Fritz could, he would start with coin, ambushing whoever carried what they collected from the refuge's people and returning it to those poor folk. Then it would be a case of finding the bosses and their topmost trusted hands. Then he would map out their territories and look for any vulnerabilities he could leverage and exploit.

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Fritz shook his head, he had been standing still, planning for the future, scheming a downfall he wasn't sure he could bring about. Such an endeavour would take weeks if not months of stalking, stealing and, regretfully, slaying. He wasn't keen to start such black work, but it would have to be done. Though, not at that very moment.

Pushing those dark designs to the back of his mind, Fritz slipped past the besiegers without doing more than casually weaving a Lethargy over one of the thugs. He then made his way into the Refuge proper, where he spotted the familiar figure of Bert, leaning lazily against a disused lantern post, long bereft of any light source.

It was unusual to see the man alone, or with such a stern expression. He was staring at something in his hand, a cloudy, grooved stone, or rather a snail shell.

"Out," Bert ordered. Dale crept out of his shell at the command.

"In."

Dale slipped back in.

"Out," Bert ordered again. Dale warbled a grumble, but obeyed.

"In. Too slow Dale. Too slow. A skulg could do better," Bert said.

Dale whistled out a protest.

"You can do it, boy," Bert said.

Fritz approached quietly, interested in the strange scene. Something must have alerted Bert, because he suddenly looked around suspiciously.

"Fritz, are you out there spying on our training?"

"Perhaps," Fritz said, revealing himself. "How did you know it was me and not some vagabond lurking about."

"Our bond is far too strong for me to mistake you for any other villain," Bert declared.

"True as the rain. But what exactly are you trying to train into your beast?" Fritz asked.

"As you can see, Dale is too slow getting out of his shell. We need him to be fast, swift enough to react to any foe. Not halfway still in his shell while we're most ways through the battle," Bert said.

Dale warbled worriedly.

"There there, we have plenty of time before you need to battle yourself," Bert reassured.

"Wish you were half as kind to me as you are to that snail," Fritz lamented.

"Hah. Already jealous, I knew it would happen. Didn't I warn you?" Bert said.

"You did," Fritz said, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "I should have listened. Now here I am, all alone."

Dale gurgled what might have been a giggle.

Fritz frowned. "Is that thing laughing at me?"

"Nah, he just makes that noise sometimes," Bert explained.

"Just how well does he understand us?" Fritz asked.

Bert shrugged. "He's smart, like a cat. Will only get smarter over time. Or so the book said."

Three eye stalks swivelled between the two as they talked, and those mustard-yellow orbs looked all too clever for Fritz's taste.

"Ugliest cat I've ever seen," Fritz said offhandedly.

"Luckily, to make up for that shortcoming, he's the most handsome snail in the city," Bert said.

"Not much competition there."

Dale wobbled its tendrils and whistled again. Fritz noticed the addition of fine teeth growing on the splayed, sucking ends.

"So am I free to go?" Bert asked.

"Not quite, waiting on Toby to turn up with an answer."

"An answer?"

"I need someone to cover the Refuge tonight, I have pressing tasks," Fritz replied. "I want to get ahead of all I will be called on to do."

Bert nodded. "I see."

"How fares the Refuge?" Fritz asked.

"It's fine. Only one or two idiots needed to be taught a lesson," Bert said, moving Dale to a shoulder.

"Were they from the gangs?"

"Don't think so, these were just rowdy fellows. Those gang thugs have been laying low," Bert provided.

"What about the prisoner?"

"Mel? She's fine, might be open to becoming a turncoat," Bert said.

"Think she's trustworthy?"

"No, not really, but she's not the worst sort there is. If there's work for her here I could see her doing it without many complaints. Even if it were to only get her out of her room."

"She'd run as soon as she got the chance though," Fritz guessed.

"Yep," Bert said.

"Starting to wish we had our own cursed mark," Fritz grumbled.

Bert shook his head. "No, you don't. You're no slaver."

Fritz didn't know if he agreed, he had been trying to tangle plenty of people in barbed oaths. Though the promises he extorted weren't oppressive and could be broken at will, he didn't even know yet the consequences of doing so. If there truly were any.

"You know I hate to say it. But you're right, Bert," he said.

Bert grinned.

They talked more after that, a couple of jokes and some boasts later Toby finally made an appearance.

"I can take a watch for you," Toby said without preamble.

"Thank you," Fritz said, genuinely grateful.

"Don't thank me, thank Jane."

"I will when I next visit," Fritz said.

"As will I," Bert said. "I'll thank her thoroughly. In all the ways she likes it."

Toby scowled, but Bert just laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. He violently shrugged away from the contact, wincing as the motion pulled on his strapped arm.

"Just joking," Bert said.

"Not funny," Toby ground out through gritted teeth. Dark flecks of anger and worry rose from the man, but not all of the furious motes were of the same subtle shade of red.

Dale warbled and swept a weak tentacle in defence of its master. It missed, of course, its short appendage not able to reach much further than a foot even when fully extended.

Toby glared at the beast and it squeaked, retreating into its pale shell.

The absolute absurdity and the complete display of cowardice caused Toby to chuckle and Fritz to laugh.

"Don't laugh!" Bert cried, though he couldn't hide the amusement in his own tone. "Dale will be deadly one day, and you won't be laughing then!"

Dale's shell trembled. Bert pat it gently which swiftly stilled it.

Soon their mirth died down, and Toby seemed to remember something.

"Fritz, is it safe to talk?" he asked.

Fritz pulsed his awareness and quickly shook his head. There was a lookout above and there was the stare from some other hidden foe. There was also a rat perched on a gutter, sniffing the air and searching with beady eyes. He didn't know if it was one of the Nightshark's bonded beasts, but he couldn't be too careful.

He signalled for them to follow him and when he was certain they weren't being observed he asked, "What do you need to say?"

"It's about the Blood Serum. And something else," Toby whispered.

"Blood Serum always picks me up after a fight," Bert said. "Think it also strengthens my Bloodwell."

"Yes, but the ones Craig had been giving us have been laced with something," Toby explained.

"Go on."

"Jane said it's something called rage root. Apparently, it's usually put into dusts or powders for the ring fighters."

"What? I never got any of that. Those cheaters, how dare they?" He hissed. Dale mimicked his tone, horribly.

Toby rolled his eyes.

"Of course, they're cheating," Fritz said. "You're a monster with those fists. Who wouldn't."

Bert grinned.

"Anyway, when prepared properly rage root remedies can put you into a rage like state. Lets you ignore pain and push yourself to greater violence," Toby said.

"Hence the name," Fritz observed.

"Right," Toby agreed. "But it also builds up in your body and can make you irritated and prone to outbursts of senseless anger."

Fritz nodded. "Do you have an antidote?"

"Not yet, looking for one."

"You could try Naomi and Ame," Fritz said.

"They won't speak to us," Toby said. "Not after... you know."

"You left us to die," Fritz finished for him.

Toby sighed. "Yeah."

Regret and shame dripped from his hands, before dissipating into coiling smoke.

"I'll see if I can get you a cleansing tonic," Fritz said.

"Thanks," Toby said. "If you could get it soon that would be good. Jane says I've been...grouchy."

"If Jane says so it must be true," Bert noted.

"And the other thing?" Fritz asked.

"Right. Jane heard, from one of the thugs she was stitching up, that there's a plan to poison you."

"Poison us?"

"The Refuge. The gang is going to ambush the rowboat that delivers ale casks and taint them with something nasty," Toby said.

"Just the ale?"

Toby shrugged.

It was a vague threat, but something Fritz hadn't considered. It was also downright slimy and indiscriminate.

"Attend the Council meeting at lunch and tell them, and warn them to watch for poison in other supplies too," Fritz ordered.

Toby nodded. It made sense that they would target more than just the ale.

"Anything else?" Fritz asked.

"Nothing," Toby said.

"Right, well I'm off to do a bit of larceny," Fritz stated.

"And, I'm going to go home a get some real rest,' Bert said with a feigned yawn.

"Let's take the roofs, no good being seen tonight," Fritz advised.

"Right," Bert agreed, setting Dale on his shoulder.

"I'm trusting you to keep the place safe, Mr. Blades," Fritz said, smirking.

Toby shook his head slightly and smiled, then signalled a goodbye, which was returned by the pair.

"Where are you heading?" Bert asked as they made their way to the roofs.

"Upper Ring, a Count's estate," Fritz said.

"Ah, spot something fancy?" Bert asked.

"No. It's for 'Her'," Fritz said, meaning the Nightshark.

"Right. Still, there might be something there that nobody but the Count would miss," Bert said.

Fritz signed an abject denial. "I want to do it right, quick and clean."

"That's the opposite of how I like it," Bert said with all the vulgarity he could muster.

Fritz stifled a laugh and turned a false look of reproach on the man.

Bert grinned.

They climbed a short wall and leapt onto a tiled roof and soon were well on their way.

---

No matter how Fritz insisted that he would be in and out of the estate without trouble, Bert staunchly refused to leave him. He was stubbornly determined on playing lookout, and Fritz had to reluctantly agree.

It was a bit like old times, except he didn't have to worry about wards back then. Blissful in his ignorance and completely unaware of their presence. It was a miracle he hadn't tripped at least one, though catch-all protective wards were hardly common.

There were two reasons for this, one would be the mess they would create when blasting away errant birds or beasts, and the other would be the cost of their upkeep. A ward, once activated, would need to be refilled with mana and that meant gold.

Bert hid in a tree, the very tree Fritz had lurked in on the night of the Spire Break. He waved that the coast was clear.

Fritz made his move, leaping and catching the lip of the high stone wall then easily hauling himself up and over. He fell between two bushes and, not stopping for long, sprinted and sprung onto the ledge of an overhanging balcony. This too he easily scaled. And soon he was at the stained glass double door that led into the manor.

There perched high in the shadow of the building, he remained unseen by the guard lazily patrolling. Cloak of Dusk hid him well in situations such as these.

Trap Sense warned him that the door was dangerous, though he didn't need the Passive to know that, he could see the runes and glyph clearly. The wards were worked into the design of the arch and in the metal binding between the frosted and coloured pieces of glass.

It was more apparent to his eye because the glyphs were engraved into rainsteel, rather than the too-soft lead, which gave them a distinct sheen that was simple for a Scout such as him to discern.

Fritz's heart hammered, not just from worry, but exhilaration. He wondered how long it was since he'd properly burgled someone. Someone deserving, he amended, thinking of the cobbler and the hattery.

He scanned the glyphs and found them matching his expectations. A stroke of luck for once. Fritz swiftly produced his engraving rod from a pocket, then, upon finding the runes he needed to interrupt, began to mar the lines and circles, carefully. For some minutes, he allowed Awareness to inform his instinct and Grace to guide his fingers.

Suddenly, he felt a tremor in the air and Trap Sense's tingling warning disappeared. He stored away his tool and pulsed his Awareness, just to be sure there was no hidden watcher. Nothing. Though he still had a slight impression of unease or anticipation.

Fritz disregarded it, it was likely nerves. He waved a hand in front of the door, and since he was met with silence, he seized the handle and pulled it down gently. He opened the door an inch and peered through. Again nothing. With a click, a swish and a clack he was inside, standing wetly upon a bright red carpet.

It was dark, but that didn't hinder him any. It was quiet, but his tread was just as soft as the drumming of the rain. He was in a parlour, plush, pleasant and decorated plentifully. There, just across the room, was the bust he was meant to break. It stood on a small wooden table and was sculpted to be life-size.

Cautiously, Fritz approached. When he was three feet away, Trap Sense rang out. He stopped, and sweat beading on his brow he searched the room for threats. He saw none, but when he looked down at his feet he saw he had nearly stepped into a small circular rug surrounding the table. In its red and gold threads, he noticed a pattern cunningly woven through around its edge.

Glyphs, specifically a ward that would raise an alarm. Suspicion suddenly gripped Fritz.

All this for a stupid bust? He asked himself. It didn't seem right.

Still, he knelt by the rug and studied its lines and circles. While this grammar was the same kind as those on the window, Fritz rapidly realised that this ward was of a far higher quality and likely made by a master of the craft. Knowing he couldn't hope to mangle these runes without activating some fail-safe, he grimaced.

Then he smiled. He didn't need to cross the circle. He activated Stone Pit, focusing on the bust in a way that would make it seem as though it had been severed down the middle. The pale marble resisted him for a moment before shifting like water, falling into two halves. One of which tumbled off the table...and rolled. Towards the edge of the rug.

Fritz screamed internally and with his whole heart willed the stone to stop moving. He tried casting Stone Pit again to destroy the rock, but that wasn't how the Ability functioned. It made holes by shaping stone not destroying it. Instead, his attempt caused the piece of stone to become flatter, like a thin bowl and come to a tumbling halt, right before it crossed the ward threshold.

His heart thundered and he almost exhaled. He held back his breath as he heard voices in the hall beyond the parlour.

"Did you hear that?" A man asked, likely a guard.

"Think that's him?" Another asked gruffly, definitely a guard. "The one we were told about?"

"Maybe. Go all quiet like. See if we can catch the prick," the other responded.

Told about? Fritz wondered. Then the smirking face of Craig entered his thoughts. Of course.

Fritz retreated silently, he was out on the balcony before the guards had reached the door on the other side of the parlour. He was on the railing when he saw a lantern light shine through the stained glass, and leaping down into the yard when he heard their shouts of alarm. He was over the wall soon after that and was in the street when the high wail of a ward pierced the night.

Fritz ran, Bert was on his heels, grinning and holding in a belly full of laughter as they ducked into an alley, dodging a drizzler patrol that was dashing to the estate. The pair didn't linger there long, they ran in short bursts when no one was around and walked as though drunk when they were in an occupied street.

For nine minutes they evaded any suspicion, and after nine more they were fairly sure they were safe. That's when they both broke into fierce laughter. Even if, as Fritz knew, it was no laughing matter to almost be caught, again.

Still, he'd escaped, and done his task without any evidence that he'd done it. That was a triumph in any tale.

Bert and Fritz slapped each other on the back, hung their arms around one another's shoulders, and began their trek home.

That was until there was a shout from a particularly annoyed Storm Guard. One Fritz recognised.

He turned, affected a drunken stagger, and smiled his most charming smile.

"Sergeant Louisa! Well met! What can I do for you this fine...very fine...uh... evening."

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