Stillwater and WayWocket arrive at the entry to the Hall, the stout brown brick building oozing with history and fame. Being the second oldest Hall in Favinonia, founded during the beginning of the Massacre of Magic and paid for with the Goblin Ear Bounty, it has survived invasion and even the great fire of 734 FK. Many Favinonians travel far to the famous Hall of Lake Merrin to make their name like Stillwater hopes the Rejects will do.

As they walk toward the bronze-bound oak double doors, still with remnants of char from the Fire, Stillwater opens the doors, and she and WayWocket step inside. The smell of aged fabric and oiled weapons and armour is evident. Under the second-floor walkway, the back of the room is split with one side being the office of the Hall, manned by registrar Royce, the aged man with a phlegmy throat. On the other side stands barkeep Bertude, an ex-Adventurer who lost her eye long ago during one of her final jobs. The only servicewoman Stillwater can see is Pela, a beautiful quarterling and a friend in the making.

Noticing Stillwater strolling up, Pela calls out. “Morning, Joan! And of course, WayWocket. How are you this fine day?”

Beaming at Pela, WayWocket jogs up and grabs her hand. “Ah, today's the day! Sparkles and light, eyes opening but ’ware the kind shadows.”

With that, WayWocket skips over to Royce and starts bouncing around his station. Stillwater shakes her head and looks at the surprised Pela. “Sorry about that, he’s in a bit of a mood this morn.” Pela smiles and Stillwater continues. “When will Lone grace us with his presence?”

Pela chuckles at the question. “He is up, and by Jara’s Hammer he’s done the dishes!” Stillwater joins in laughing, such a delicate laugh from such a large, muscular woman. “He told me about the meeting. He should be here soon but Brice’s cider cart is on the way, and you know Lone.”

“Yeah, might be losing his Jara’s Hammers if he rocks up drunk!” Stillwater clenches her fist, but Pela can see that the anger doesn’t reach her eyes, especially when it comes to Lone. “Forget that idiot. How are you going, Pela?”

Pela looks around to make sure no-one is calling her over. “Been passable, just having some pains of late but they leave as quickly as they come.”

“I bet Lone is more of a pain?”

Pela and Stillwater laugh at that. “True, but he means well. So WayWocket is in a mood today—anything interesting happening?”

Stillwater sits down and says, “He just reminded me in his own way that we have a job to do.”

“Really?” Glancing at the job board, no banner for the Rejects can be seen. “Which one? I don’t see your Charter coat of arms.”

“An independent one. We discovered something during the Count’s Ball but just realised we haven’t acted upon it.”

“Ah.” Pela hears someone calling her name. “I have to get back to work. Chat later.”

Stillwater nods, noting that Pela is limping a little, but WayWocket distracts her before she can ask anything. There he is, dancing in front of Royce, colours sprouting from his hands and the registrar waving a ruler at him.

“Way, leave the poor man alone!” Stillwater commands, her face softening as she looks at Royce. “Sorry about that. He’s in his vague place this morn.”

Coughing a bit, and replying in his croaky voice, Royce says, “That colour powder is reacting with my allergies. Is there anything you need, as I must take a little…” Royce is cut off by a coughing fit.

WayWocket shoves his hands into one of his multiple pouches and pulls out a flask of bluebottle liquid. “Here, here, make you feel like a cloud…”

Grabbing the scruff of his jacket, Stillwater drags him backwards. “Leave Royce alone, Way.”

In the blink of an eye, WayWocket slips out of his jacket and flips onto the desk, shoving the flask into Royce’s coughing mouth. Stillwater growls and moves forward to punish the gnome, but stops as she notices the ruddy colour leaving Royce’s face and his pained expression melting away.

WayWocket turns around, wielding the flask like a knight’s sword. “See, see. Heal. You should trust me, Joan, I am not crazy and know more about medicine and cures then you will in a lifetime. Never interfere with me again!”

Stillwater is taken aback by the flash of anger in WayWocket’s eyes. It reminds her of when they busted his drug lab before he came under her care. Stillwater still finds it scary that she does not know WayWocket’s full capabilities.

He flips off the table, flashes a smile and dances over to the bard’s stage to examine the bright, coloured drapes. Stillwater looks at Royce, his face flushed with health. “I’m sorry about my comrade. He means well.”

Squinting through his glasses, Royce ponders her words and finally says in a lighter voice, “No matter, I haven’t felt this good for the last fifteen years. What was in that flask?”

“I don’t know, and I think I will never know. WayWocket does this from time to time, and he is right. Every time it is to the benefit of the person he treats.”

“If you don’t need anything, Joan, I’m going to the back to sit down for a while.”

She nods at Royce and moves back to her table, watching WayWocket playing in the sand of the duelling pit. Letting him have his fun, she motions to Pela for drinks. The opening of the Hall’s double doors snaps her out of her contemplative state. Lo and behold, Lone enters with Gunnar and his mastiff in tow.

“Hi-ho, Joan. Sorry for being a bit late.” Lone grins. “Just finding out the local news from a source.”

“Yeah, from the stink of your breath, you had a few ciders as well, Halfy!” Gunnar accuses Lone.

“It was just a cup of warm cider, but the news was good. All the produce is back to peak levels again.”

Gunnar grunts, and at the same time Caw growls, then bounds over to WayWocket to tackle him in a fury of licks. “Jenell’s book, that dog will be the death of me! Get off ’im!” Both WayWocket and Caw ignore him.

Lone strolls up to the table and plonks himself down. Seeing four cups with a jug, he grabs one and gulps it down, then pulls a face. “Water? I am not trying to wash! Hey, Pela,” he calls out, “can I grab an ale?”

Stillwater turns and belays that order. “Pela, could you not do that, please.” She squints her eyes at Lone. “You’ve had enough for this morn. We have important work, and you need clear wits.”

Gunnar takes a chair next to Stillwater. “Yeah, Halfy,” he agrees. “What is on the agenda, Boss?”

“It’s Joan now, Gunnar. We’re not in the Watch anymore.” Lone chuckles at this. “And you shut it, Lone!”

“Sorry, Joaaaan,” Lone replies, slightly elongating her name.

Gunnar huffs and says, “You’re my Boss, and I will always call you Boss, Boss.”

Stillwater sighs at WayWocket on the back of Caw, bounding around the Hall. “Fine. Let us start our first official meeting. We have a job, gentlemen.”