Dagger looked out the window at the stone buildings of the village. Nearly all of it lay in the shadow of a tower that was at least as big around as the whole community. It rose into the blue sky above and tapered as it did. but beyond that had neither countour nor ornament, not even a window, not even at the top. It flew no flags, and not even the weather had stained the gray stone which looked as new as if it had been pulled from the quarry yesterday. The guard who'd done the talking outside the mine rode in the carriage with them, sandwiched between Vice, who was staring at nothing while still taking up space, and Saber who kept giving the guard speculative looks.

The guard shifted in a futile effort to get some space for his shoulders between an object that didn't care, and a man who might have cared a bit too much for the guard's comfort.

"That's a lot of palace for a small village," Dagger muttered to herself.

"That's the citadel," the guard said.

"Citadel, palace," Dagger said. "Whatever."

"No, I mean that isn't the queen's palace. You've never heard of the Citadel of Stairs?"

Saber snapped his fingers. "Of course. The Citadel of Stairs. I remember..." Saber paused and cocked his head theatrically. "No, sorry. That was the Outhouse of Doom."

"What's the Citadel of Stairs?" Dagger asked.

"Better if her majesty explains," the soldier said, "we're nearly there."

After a bit the carriage stopped outside a low, one-story building.

"Looks like a tavern," Dagger said.

"And brothel," the guard said. "the finest in town."

Powder leaned across the carriage. Her tone was sly and confiding. "It's the only one isn't it?"

The guard nodded reluctantly.

"Brothel..." Saber said in a thoughtful tone.

"Later. If you're good," Dagger said as they left the carriage and entered the bawdy house's common room. Every patron they saw had their eyes on their cups. Even the odd working girl or boy sitting in laps or rubbing shoulders seemed to be staring off into the middle distance. The soldier ushered them through the crowd and to stairs at the back that led down into a rough-cut but well-lit basement. A dozen more soldiers stood or sat, but all turned to watch the Armory enter. At the center of the room was a gray-haired woman with weathered, heavily lined features behind a battered wooden table. She wore a boiled leather vest over rough brown canvas. There was a pistol on the table by her hand.

"Your majesty," the soldier who'd escorted the Armory said with a spare bow, "here they are."

"Thank you, Ghired. Please sit, all of you," the queen said and poured ale from a jug into five cups and served the Armory with her own hand.

"This is interesting," Dagger said.

"You were expecting more ceremony? A throne room?"

"That's usually how we meet with monarchs," Dagger said.

"Met a lot of those, have you?"

"No. Generally its a factor who hires us."

"And I bet you thought that overcompensating stone eyesore was my palace."

"Yes."

"Natural assumption," the queen said and chuckled darkly. "Not much majestic about this place, or me. Only my name puts on airs, but that isn't even mine either. Nothing here is."

"Why are we here, your majesty?"

"You're the ones who cleared out the mine? The queen asked.

"That's what we do."

"Monster slayers?"

"Not as such," Dagger said. "Depends on what needs doing."

"Who hired you? How did you even get here? You don't look like you're from any of the nearby baronies. Though we haven't heard from them in a long time."

Dagger felt Vice stiffen.

"We don't discuss who hires us, your majesty. Most prefer it that way."

"I suppose I can let that go," the queen said, "for now. Because you did us a service, even if it was unintentional. Because I have need of you."

"Oh? And what can we do for you?"

"The aforementioned eyesore. The Citadel of Stairs. Heard of it?"

"Not before today," Dagger said.

"Our jailer," the queen said. "and the jailer of all who came before me and all who live in these lands. You," the queen said to Pitch. "All those jars and vials. You smell like an apothecary. What are you? An alchemist?"

"I am," Pitch answered.

"How do you conduct your experiments?"

"Not much time for study these days, your majesty. I'm a working man."

"But you're familiar with the concept?"

Pitch nodded. "A distant memory, but yes."

"These lands. My... kingdom. All an experiment conducted by the ones who live in the tower. They both support and exploit us. Food and building materials come from the tower, even gold on occasion. But we cannot leave and very, very few bother to visit. So you understand my confusion at your presence."

"We have other means of travel at our disposal," Dagger said.

"Or you're one of their experiments," the queen said.

"Or you are, by that logic," Pitch said and the queen gave him a sharp speculative look.

"Save the philosophical debate, Pitch," Dagger said. "We aren't from the tower."

"I doubt you would tell us anyway," the queen said. "Maybe it doesn't matter."

"You said they supply gold. Food. What do they take in return?" Dagger asked.

"Whatever they want," the queen said. "The mine was one of their experiments. Every tragedy, and every deliverance, comes by their hand."

"Why don't you storm it?" Dagger asked, "you've got soldiers and weapons. I suppose those came from the tower as well?"

"We're like children playing at knights with sticks. We have weapons, but there's nobody to fight. The citadel is perennial. Everyone we've sent, everyone my forbearers sent, the few who even managed to get past the guards on the stairs, vanished inside. I have an army, but nobody to fight. We were even invaded once."

"Did those in the tower retaliate?"

"No," the queen said, "they didn't seem to care. Or perhaps it was just some game of theirs. The invaders came, but even they seemed confused when there was no army to meet them. They took what they want and left. They barely killed anyone. They didn't have to."

"Did they take thralls?" Dagger asked.

The queen shook her head. "They were only interested in gold."

"Why don't you just leave?"

"Every one of the islands' rulers has been taken shortly after birth to the gate of the tower. One of their... priests, I suppose you could say, comes out and blesses the child. That ruler is bound to the tower, we're told. Should the tower fall, so will they. We're told it's the same with our subjects."

"That's interesting," Dagger said. "Do you think it's true?"

"It's possible it's a lie," the queen said, "We've long since stopped that guessing game. It's possible it's all a trick, another elabtorate experiment. Just like you might be."

"Whatever we just killed in that mine," Pitch said, "Nobody would want those things loose in their land. The destruction would have been immense."

"Perhaps they just wanted to see what would happen," the queen said. "Nothing happens here that the tower doesn't have a silent hand in, and even random events can't be trusted not to be some play on their part. I want it gone. I want my people to have some kind of life that isn't predetermined. I want them to have ordinary bad luck. Poor fishing. Bad harvests. Disease. An economy. Not death at the hands of whatever the Citadel decided to unleash that month."

"We can do that," Dagger said.

"Though if you are one of their tricks..." the queen said.

"Do you care enough not to hire us?"

"We're talking, aren't we?"

"What can you pay?"

"What do you want?"

"Gold," Dagger said.

The queen snorted. "Gold. Take as much as you like once the job's done."

"I'll see the coin first."

The queen gestured to one of the guards who, with two others, dragged a pair of heavy chests over to the table and heaved them onto it. They opened the lids. The chests were filled with yellow nuggets of varrying sizes.

"Typically we get paid in coin," Dagger said.

"We don't bother milling it into coins," the queen said. "We mine it. It's something to do. But it's their mine. They gave it to us. It never runs out. But what good is gold? We don't need to buy anything. Do you have any idea how many of my people want to just be simple shopkeepers? Our market is a puppet show."

"Can you tell us anything about the inside of the tower?" Pitch asked.

The queen shook her head. "Nobody has ever been inside and come out. The tower's servants, the ones we've seen, are just guards. I'm not even sure they're human."

"Then what are they?"

"At a guess? Creatures created by the tower. You should know that over the years several bands just like yourselves have been sent in, some with twice the number of bravos. I think we've tried every time we've gotten visitors who look like they can handle themselves."

"You haven't sent the Armory," Dagger said.

"Confident, aren't you?" the queen said.

"We have certain advantages. Now, your majesty, we'll need a place to get ready."

"You're standing in it," the queen said, "I have to go back to my palace on the off chance the Citadel sends a message. Appearances must be maintained. Do you need anything?"

Dagger looked around at the Armory.

"Is there an apothecary in the village?" Pitch asked.

"We have one. But their inventory may be limited."

"I'm very resourceful, your majesty," Pitch said.

"Gunpowder and bullets," Powder said.

"I'll have my guards leave what they have."

The queen nodded at Dagger, and then gestured to her guards who formed up around her and led her from the basement beneath the bawdy house. When they were alone, the Armory took council.

"We could just leave," Powder said. "This bullshit isn't our problem."

"Powder, it's a job," Saber countered. "And the exit might require getting killed. I know we wake up, but does anybody really enjoy it?"

"Probably more than I'd enjoy raiding some kind of wizard tower from hell."

"You're gonna make hell jokes after being knee deep in demon guts?" Saber said.

"You've all forgotten why we were sent," Vice said. He threw back his hood to reveal his craggy face and gray beard. His eyes looked like lanterns at the bottom of a dry well. "The Vigil's servants sent us to protect believers. That job is not done."

"And the queen is paying a shitload of gold," Pitch said, "though it's strange behavior for tyranny."

"How do you mean?" Saber asked.

"This place does have a heirarchy. The queen has armed guards. Somebody must have supplied their weapons. Gunpowder just doesn't fall from the sky. Those were steel swords. Powder, what's your opinion of their guns?"

"I'd need a closer look, but Pitch is right. It's odd. Why would you arm a population you want to keep under thumb?"

"Of course," Pitch continued, "we could be part of this tower's latest experiment and not even know it."

"Reservations noted," Dagger said, "Any strong enough to keep us from doing this?"

Nobody dissented.

"There is another reason to provide this service," Vice said.

"What's that?" Dagger asked him.

"If we do this in the Vigil's name, we could double or even triple the number of faithful here."

"A monk and an economist," Pitch said with a grin.

"I always wanted to be a holy warrior," Saber said.

"Saber, you could not be holy even if I spent a year purifying you with every technique known," Vice said.

"Shit, Vice, was that a joke? Did Vice just make a joke?" Saber said.

"We hit the tower tomorrow at noon,' Dagger said. "Get some food and rest, see to your tools. Pitch, resupply what you can."