Hunn Raal had come and gone. A few words ventured by the corporal, relating the story told by the witnesses, and then he was off, but not before countermanding his initial order to scour the town. It was, perhaps, the reason for her squad’s present disgruntlement. Bortan and Skrael had both drawn closer to the four brothers, who stood in a nervous clump behind their table. The stench of blood was heavy in the air, and, like wolves, her two soldiers were ready to bare fangs.

Humiliation. The denizens of the tavern had witnessed it, delivered by Serap herself, and Bortan and Skrael were hungry to pass it on.

Parlyn was tired. They’d been given the task of removing what was left of Serap, but it seemed that her energy – what little remained – was trickling away, drip by drip. Even her soldiers stood as if uncertain where to start.

But a vicious fight with the locals would answer their need quickly enough. Sighing, she stirred into motion, stepping into the room. ‘Skrael, find us a sack, for the head. Bortan, take Feled there and go hunt us down a stretcher.’ She paused, glancing across to the last three soldiers in the squad. ‘The rest of you, take station outside, eyes on the street.’

That last command was not well received. It was cold out there. Parlyn scowled until the three soldiers shuffled towards the door. She glanced back to see the barkeep appear from the kitchen with a burlap sack, which he pushed into Skrael’s hands.

Bortan, with a final glare back at the brothers, joined Feled at the door. They exited.

One of the brothers stepped forward, eyes on Parlyn, who raised her brows. The man hesitated, and then said, ‘She did good by us, sir. We’d like to be the ones to carry that stretcher… to wherever it needs going.’

Parlyn frowned. She glanced across at Skrael, who stood near the table, staring down at the severed head. There was no question that he’d heard. The corporal moved close to the farmer and said in a low voice, ‘I appreciate the sentiment, but by the time Bortan gets back, I expect you four to be gone. Our blood’s up, you see. Someone’s murdered a Legion officer. It’s our business now.’

The man looked back at his brothers, and then faced her again. ‘To show our respect, you see.’

‘I understand. If her ghost lingers, she’ll know how you feel. Go home, now.’

‘Well, I hope you catch that murderer, that’s all.’

‘We will.’

The four made their way out of the tavern. Parlyn watched them leave and then turned to see Skrael glaring at her.

‘Yes,’ she snapped, ‘it’d be easier, wouldn’t it?’

‘Sir?’

‘If they were the shits you wanted them to be.’

‘Not just me, sir. You called us out this night, to do some hunting.’