“I am, once again, very very sorry about... that misunderstanding.” Giuseppe Coltello said again, waving one free hand in agitation.

The other hand wasn't free. It held a very expensive ice pack against a thoroughly swollen black eye.

Chase, for her part, folded her arms and glared at him over the most luxurious breakfast spread she'd ever seen. It was a long way down the table, but Giuseppe flinched back anyway, looking like he wanted to bolt out the door.

Giuseppe Coltello was a human just out of his twenties. He had a physique that was just starting to turn to flab. His jawline was the same, his hair was a neatly groomed mass of yellow braids that he had assured her were all the rage in Toothany, and his hands were soft and unmarked by any sort of honest work.

His free hand caught her attention as it wobbled uncertainly in the air. Chase was relieved to see that his fingers had healed up well, after she'd nearly bitten one off and broken a few more for good measure.

But not too relieved.

She'd already decided to forgive him in exchange for significant favors and maybe a cart of gold at some point in the future, but it was best to let him squirm, first.

“So let me get this straight once more, now that you're not screaming and begging for mercy,” she spoke, and Giuseppe jumped, then cleared his throat.

“Yes?” he squeaked.

“You thought I was your paramour, come to surprise you by staying over in the middle of the night.”

“I er, well, yes. She always shuts the door you see, to let me know she's in. And your door was shut, the doors are always open otherwise, it was an honest mistake—”

“And the fact that I'm half her height didn't clue you in?” Chase kept her face stony.

“But you're not! Not exactly. I mean... well first of all I was very drunk. I had quite a bit at the Contessa Della Lumbyardi's place, and she's only a foot or so taller than you, my love I mean, not the Contessa. Not that the Contessa isn't a dear, but—”

“Wait. Your mistress is only a foot taller than me?” Chase let a darker tone leak into her voice. “Do you like them short? Like children?”

“No! No no no! Absolutely, I mean, absolutely not!” The ice pack slipped to the ground as Giuseppe waved both hands in frantic circles, like a man hysterical and beset by bees. “She's a dwarf! My Tabita is four feet two, just the right size, for, er, ah...”

Okay, that caught Chase's attention. “I thought dwarves didn't usually er, get involved outside of their own kind, so to speak.”

“They don't. What we have is special,” Giuseppe said, stars in his eyes. Well, less of a star and more a red harvest moon, for the black eye on his left hand side.

“And how do you think she would feel, if she knew that you'd felt up another woman? A halven? Dwarves are supposed to be pretty sensitive about their height,” Chase said, taking a sip of breakfast wine, and following it with a bite of gooey cinammon roll. “Be a shame if she got the notion that you only loved her because she's short. That you have a thing for every short woman you come across.”

Giuseppe went pale. “Tabita wouldn't... I mean... I don't think she...” he blustered, then stopped. “Did I mention that I'm very, very sorry about this whole thing?”

“Only about three times since I got here,” The Muscle Wizaard boomed behind him, and Giuseppe fell out of his chair.

Chase bit her cheek to keep from laughing. It had TOTALLY been worth keeping a straight face as the big man snuck in from a silently opened door, and stood behind Giuseppe, waiting silently. The Wizaard knew how to make an entrance.

“I'll say it as many times as you like,” Don Coltello's son squeaked from the floor. “Only oh god, no!” he screamed as the Muscle Wizaard reached down...

...and helped him to his feet.

Giuseppe quivered, and looked up at the bearded bodyguard. “Don't worry about me, friend,” the Muscle Wizaard said, smiling through his beard. “I'm only here to handle the things that she cannot. And she handled you just fine. But you might want to worry about Cagna.”

Chase watched, fascinated, as all color drained from Giuseppe. “Oh. She's here?”

“She's here. Should be back any time now,” Chase said. “So let's talk about how you can make it up to me quickly, before she gets back...”

It didn't take long. Chase had sized him up after the chaos was done last night, and found his willpower equivalent to soggy parchment. This morning proved no exception, and he meekly agreed to both foot their investigative expenses for the next couple of days, and owe them a few favors in the future. “Specifically, I want you to see if you can get us into one of the noble houses that lost a member to the werewolves. Who were they again?” Chase asked. She'd never gotten a name, so she was fishing, here.

Fortunately, Giuseppe was eager to take the hook. “Bianchi and Rossi,” he said, eagerly. “Of course! I shall pay my respects to my friends in them, and endeavor to allow you to visit in some capacity.”

“Good.” Chase finished her cinnamon roll, and put the wine down before it could muddle her. She knew her limits. And, as the door opened again to admit a familiar face, she knew she'd be pushing those limits today. “Ah, there you are Cagna! Perfect timing.”

“Cagna! Ah, hellohelpyourselftobreakfasthaveapleasantstay!” Giuseppe squeaked and literally ran for the far door, slamming it behind him and heading deeper into the villa.

“I didn't even have to growl at him this time,” Cagna said, from her spot at the door.

“You look dog tired,” Chase said without thinking.

“Only heard that one about a thousand times,” Cagna muttered.

But it was true. Her ears drooped, her fur was mussed, and she slumped as if she was barely holding herself upright

“Would you like a clean and press?” Renny offered as he faded into existence next to Chase, dropping the illusion that had concealed him.

Cagna wasn't surprised. “You know I smelled you, right? I knew you were here. So you can cut the theatrics.”

“They weren't for you,” Renny said.

Cagna looked around, then blinked, bleary-eyed and unimpressed. “Whatever. Okay, so two bits of news. I've got you the password to the Rossi casino.”

“Their what now?” Chase asked. “I don't know that word.”

The dog-woman gave her a strange look. “You're in the business, how can you not know about... whatever. A casino is a gambling hall. The Rossis back an illegal gambling hall, down by the docks. A lot of the family's servants and allies spend time there, and you might even be able to find one of the family who isn't grieving over the loss of Enrico Rossi.” Cagna extracted a crumpled bit of parchment from her cloak and set it on the table. “There's the address and password to get in. Take the walking muscle-mountain with you.”

“Muscle Wizaard,” the big man corrected.

“Yeah no. The constables are looking for the Muscle Wizaard. Best to play it low-key for a while.”

“I'm not very good at that, I fear.”

“I know. Which is why I told the gardener to throw a tarp over the wagon until we can get the sign changed. And the second piece of news...” Cagna sighed. “There were two werewolf killings last night. In different parts of the city.”

“So we're dealing with two werewolves.” Chase rubbed her chin.

“At least. Could be more. Might have been a murder we didn't hear about. But anyway, the problem is who they killed. One was a constable on patrol near the river gate. That's a problem because he was with a whole patrol. Idiot stepped away to take a piss and got disappeared. Now the guards are shamed, and the whole city is whispering that they're useless against the werewolves. The other killing though, that's the big problem...” Cagna exhaled, hard. “The other murder was Dona Tarantino.”

Chase's memory filled in the name with a context. “You mentioned her last night? Something about how it was shameful that she let gangs run loose?”

“Yeah. She's the crime boss I mentioned who Don Coltello sold... I mean, had dealings with.” Cagna shot the Muscle Wizaard a look.

Chase thought that wise. It's probably best not to mention how the guy we're working for trafficks in stolen women. Not to the Muscle Wizaard.

Cagna continued. “Which means that it's probably vendetta. It's probably either someone related to that runt werewolf that got away all those years ago, or the runt himself, all grown up. The dons are having a meeting about this tonight. I'll need to be in attendance, which means that you should plan to be as well. Don Coltello wants to show that he's making progress, and showing that knife you found in front of the Council will help him look good in front of the others.”

Chase nodded. “I can do that. Anything else I should know?” She hopped down from her seat, and took the parchment off the table, glancing at it before tucking it away.

“No.” Cagna said. “Some stuff for the meeting tonight maybe, but that can wait. Just be smart, don't make waves, and keep your ears high. And...” she considered Chase. “You should probably go shopping. Get some armor, kid. You're going to be moving around rough areas and rough people, the less stabbable you look the better.”

Chase tightened her lips.

“No, don't argue. This isn't your hometown, country mouse. People play for keeps, and arrows don't care who steps in their way. Get armor. Wizaard, make her do it.”

“Yes ma'am.”

Chase shot him a betrayed look, and he stared back, unconcerned. “I am your bodyguard. And I do happen to agree with her on this point.”

“Right. I'm going to crash. Be back before dark.” Cagna yawned, tongue stretching far out of her toothy muzzle, and headed to the back of the villa.

Half an hour later, Chase and her friends managed to locate a good-quality leatherworking shop near a large inn that catered to adventurers and other people with violent professions and lots of money. Some careful negotiation and a mention that she was a local, and not an itinerant murder-hobo, got her a sizeable discount... along with an unexpected charisma boost.

To her surprise, the Muscle-Wizaard had proven very helpful at helping her pick out accouterments. “I've had long experience with a number of costumes,” the Wrestler pointed out. “You're going to want light leather, something that you can move in without hindrance, but that might slow down a stray arrow, or turn aside an off-target thrust.”

“What about on-target thrusts, and straight arrows?”

“Well, I'm sorry, but they'll probably kill or badly injure you regardless of what kind of armor you're wearing. So it's best to work with your mobility and not get hit by those in the first place.” The Muscle Wizaard shrugged. “You're a halven, young lady. There's only so much we can do without magic... and I don't think you have the funds to access that sort of thing.”

“Really?” Chase pushed her prospective purchases into the big man's arms. “Hold these while I go check.” Thomasi had given her a LOT of coin. At least twenty gold worth, give or take!

Two minutes of conversation with the shopkeeper, and she came back, ears drooping, and with a new humility. “So. Uh. Magical armor costs... lots.”

“Yes it does,” The Muscle Wizaard nodded.

“Like more than my entire home village probably has, lots.”

“Well, there's little need for them except among adventurous sorts, and they take components that are hard to find and expensive in most places,” the Wizaard shrugged.

“It's a little different in Cylvania,” Renny whispered from her pack. But he was loud enough for the Wizaard to hear.

“Ah yes! I've been curious about that place ever since you mentioned it. Can you tell me about it, my small friend?”

“Not here,” Chase said, shooting the shopkeeper a look as he haggled with a red-haired woman wearing a chainmail bikini. “Too many ears.”

While the store's owner was otherwise occupied, they escaped into the changing rooms in the back. The Wizaard and Renny took one, while Chase took an adjacent cubicle. The walls were thin enough they could discuss matters, and by turning the signs on the others to “occupied,” she thought they wouldn't be interrupted.

Initially focusing on trying on the various pieces of armor and accessories, she found herself listening to Renny with interest, as he told the story of a land locked behind magic gone horribly wrong, wracked with civil war, and beset by demons.

It sounded like the sort of high adventure she'd craved as a child, and she stared at herself in the mirror as she realized that she was free to visit there someday, and have a look for herself.

She was finally free to do this.

After over a week it was starting to sink in.

The Muscle Wizaard was less interested in the adventure aspect of it, and somewhat more focused in his inquiries. “You say there's no Wizard guilds? Or schools?”

“No. The kingdom used to control the royal academy, but it got dissolved after the war. Now the official council arcanist is Mister Graves. He's not a Wizard, but he helps people get the arcane training they need. And there's plenty of Wizards around to take apprentices and teach whomever they want.”

“But what about dangerous magical experimentation? Like Cagna said?” The Muscle Wizaard asked.

“She left out something pretty important. Experimentation like that takes a lot of money and resources. The council keeps an eye on where the money goes these days. And we're always short on reagents and crystals. You need those to make golems, and we're making a whole lot of golems these days.”

“Why's that?” Chase asked, struggling into a corset.

“Because there's really not many people left,” Renny said. “The wars went on too long and we weren't a big land to start with. So golems that don't have to sleep or eat or stop working are a really big help to the living folks.”

“That's admirable!” The Muscle Wizaard decided. “To spend your life in service like that!”

“Oh, we get paid for our service. And we don't have to serve if we don't want to. Once we graduate from the Rumpus Room we can choose to go and do whatever we want. So long as it's legal anyway. But most of us want to help people. We're good at it! Teacher said it was because we're toy golems. We're made to be friends and help our people. We don't feel right unless we're doing that.”

Is this why he stayed with me? Chase wondered.

She'd asked herself that many times over during their trip. When the chance had come to rejoin his group and return home, he'd decided to come travel with Chase instead. Ostensibly it was to explore more, and learn more about this land. But it had always seemed like a thin explanation to the halven girl.

Was it because he considered her “his people?”

If so...

Chase was touched. And with that came the realization that she was fully responsible for his predicament. He'd bonded with her, it sounded like that anyway. She would have to take that into consideration, and make sure what he'd gained was worthwhile, more than what he'd given up.

“I want to go there,” decided the Muscle Wizaard. “If there's no guild, and it's that easy to become a Wizard, then maybe... maybe my dream isn't quite dead after all.”

“I know the way back now. It's a hard trip over a bunch of mountains.”

“We can go together,” Chase spoke. “After we're done here, we've got business in Gnome. But after that, I'm thinking it'll be best to get out of the country for a while. If you want to stick with us, that is, Bastien.”

“I think I do,” the Muscle Wizaard said. “So long as you're still paying. I'll probably need money to legally pay a Wizard to teach me.”

“Money won't be a problem,” Chase promised, adjusting the last few fittings, and slipping on the clothes she'd bought to go with them. “And now I'll need to borrow your eyes, please.”

Chase stepped out of the booth, and the others gave her a good once-over.

“Um...” Renny said. “Did you put on any armor at all?”

“She's got shoes,” the Muscle Wizaard said. “And bracers.”

“I've also got a corset on under here. And I'm wearing PANTS!” Chase lifted her dress to reveal that her legs, in fact, were clad in leather trousers. Not the tightest she could have worn, but every halven knows to leave a bit of room for good meals and sedentary times.

“Are you sure that's enough?” The Muscle Wizaard said, running a hand through his beard. “I advised thin leather, but that's a bit too thin. Maybe.”

Chase grimaced. “It's costing me ten gold for all of this. And that's AFTER a lot of haggling. Anything heavier is probably going to be more than I want to pay.”

“All right. It is literally your own hide if it doesn't work out,” Renny said. “Oh! Hey, want me to stress test it for you?” Renny pulled a knife out of his bushy tail and waved it around.

“No! Er, ah no, that's fine. Let's just pay and go. We've got a camino to visit.”

“Casino,” the Muscle Wizaard corrected.

“Yes, that thing.”

It took some navigation to figure out the location of the address that Cagna had given them. Her directions had been brief, and of little use to the three people who were by no means permanent residents of Arretzi.

Several times Chase had to stop and ask directions. But after about half an hour of wandering, she saw the western wall narrow and slope down, and caught the gleam of water on the horizon.

It was also the point where the smell of fish started to pervade her nose. Behind her, in her pack, Renny sneezed once. “I'm turning my nose off,” he whispered into her ear.

“Good,” Chase advised, absent-mindedly. “We don't want a repeat of yesterday.”

“Don't remind me. I can still smell those tannery scents in the back of my throat,” Renny muttered.

Chase bit back a reply. Her feet were currently sweaty, and hurting. Shoes took some getting used to. Granted, it was better than trusting her calluses to the bare cobblestones, and there were some truly dubious patches of dirt and substances starting to appear as they got closer to the waterfront, but still... still, it was an adjustment. It felt unnatural. Halvens were supposed to be barefoot, that's why they had good thick patches of fur there!

Still, the shoes were part of the armor, and the Muscle Wizaard assured her repeatedly that she'd get used to them. And a little bit of discomfort was nothing against the pain of losing toes, if random violence erupted again.

But eventually Chase's people-watching skills kicked in, distracting her from her footwear woes.

Yesterday she'd noticed a tension in the crowds she'd passed, an unease and wariness.

Today it was simmering. There was no laughter, not even nervous laughter. The streets had much less traffic... there were plenty of people out, but they were watching on corners, at stalls, or out of windows. They were watching and whispering to each other, and scrutinizing everybody with cold, angry eyes.

This was what werewolves did to a city, she realized. It isn't the deaths, though those are horrible. It's the fear that they bring, the paranoia that they inspire. That's the true horror of it; they could be anyone, and so everyone is suspect.

She passed a small plaza where a group of children playing a game that seemed to involve a lot of clapping and telling people to open and close their eyes. Not far, parents or other relatives watched, every one of them with a weapon of some sort near to reach.

“This crowd is ugly,” The Muscle Wizaard rumbled. “If they don't get satisfaction or a distraction soon, they're going to riot.”

“It's to that point already?” Chase asked.

“Beyond that point. If the doge weren't so well-loved, there'd be mobs in the streets and fires everywhere,” The Muscle Wizaard sighed.

“I trust your judgment. I'm more used to dealing with individuals and small groups. Still very much a country mouse, as Cagna would put it.”

“About that one,” The Muscle Wizaard asked. “How much do you know about her?”

“I've known her for a day. She's decent enough, although I don't think she was lying about spending time as a Bandit and Highwayman.” Chase rubbed her chin. “But she doesn't sugarcoat what her employer does. It makes me wonder why she's working for him.”

Now that Chase had the time to think about it, there were a few things about Cagna that didn't add up. Nothing she could put her finger on, but the dog-woman had secrets, she was sure of it. Whether or not they were secrets Chase could afford to let lie, or something that she'd have to dig up for her own protection was yet to be determined.

But given the prospect, she knew which she preferred. Chase had spent most of her formative years finding out everything she could about the people who most had an impact on her life. She'd gotten to know them, dug out their secrets, knowing that it was the only way to protect herself and her loved ones.

How to go about it, though?

Now is the perfect time, actually, Chase realized. This is likely the only time I've got where Cagna won't be with me. If I can get some clues from the Rossis or their employees quickly, then I can spend some time investigating her.

“This is the address, I think,” Renny whispered, and Chase and Bastien stopped, staring at a plain wooden door. It looked like its neighbors down the block, doors set into old brick buildings. The windows were black, though a few glimmers shown out of cracks in what had to be tar.

Chase knocked on the door, and it cracked open. “Yes?” Someone asked.

“Pesce spada,” Chase said, stating the password that Cagna had given her.

“Ah, my friends! Come in.”

The door opened wider, and Chase nodded to The Muscle Wizaard.

She had two goals for this trip now. And if there were answers to be had in this place, she'd find them...

CHASE'S CHARACTER SHEET

Spoiler: Spoiler

Name: Chase Berrymore

Age: 15 Years

Jobs:

Halven level 9, Cook level 4, Archer level 5, Grifter level 6, Medium level 1, Oracle level 8, Painter level 2, Teacher level 2

Attributes / Pools / Defenses

Strength: 55 Constitution: 33 / Hit Points: 88 / Armor: 10

Intelligence: 56 Wisdom: 90 / Sanity: 146 / Mental Fortitude:45

Dexterity: 99 Agility: 58 / Stamina: 157 / Endurance: 0

Charisma: 129 Willpower: 46 / Moxie: 175 / Cool: 51

Perception: 66 Luck: 135 / Fortune: 201 / Fate: 32

Generic Skills

Archery – Level 1

Brawling – Level 8

Climb – Level 15

Dagger – Level 2

Dodge – Level 12

Fishing – Level 14

Ride – Level 10

Stealth – Level 14

Swim – Level 7

Throwing – Level 24

Halven Skills

Fate's Friend – Level N/A

Small in a Good Way – Level N/A

Cook Skills

Cooking - Level 15

Freshen - Level 10

Archer Skills

Aim – Level 6

Demoralizing Shot – Level 1

Far Shot – Level 1

Missile Mastery – Level N/A

Quickdraw – Level N/A

Rapid Fire – Level N/A

Razor Arrow – Level 1

Ricochet Shot – Level 10

Grifter Skills

Fools Gold – Level 1

Forgery – Level 1

Master of Disguise – Level 3

Pickpocket – Level 1

Silent Activation – Level 9

Silver Tongue – Level 7

Size Up – Level 3

Unflappable – Level N/A

Medium Skills

Bad Fortune – Level 1

Crystal Ball – Level 1

Good Fortune – Level 1

Séance – Level N/A

Stack Deck – Level N/A

Oracle Skills

Absorb Condition – Level N/A

Afflict Self – Level 1

Diagnose – Level N/A

Divine Pawn – Level N/A

Foresight – Level 22

Lesser Healing – Level 30

Omens and Portents – Level N/A

Transfer Condition – Level 4

Painter Skills

Fast Dry – Level N/A

Painting – Level 5

Teacher Skills

Lecture – Level 4

Smarty Pants – Level N/A

Unlocked Jobs

Farmer, Herbalist

Gear

The Charlatan's Chapeau

Light Leather Armor – level 5