As Los Casablanqueños rode into Falcon's Point, the sails of many Castillian ships, lying at anchor, could be seen. There was no roar of cannon, but the noise of a bustling town, swollen with soldiers, townsfolk, and refugees waiting to board. New recruits could be heard, boasting of what they would do to "Los Montañanos," and how they would have fought if they had been at San Juan, or La Reina del Mar. Older soldiers were easy to recognize too, for they heard their juniors with expressions of pain, pride, regret, and settled back into their drinks.
The search for accommodations was difficult, as most inns were filled with soldiers newly arriving and soon to depart. As Cecil and Franzesca asked around for other lodgings, they heard that the largest inn was completely unavailable-- The Southern Stop had been taken over by a horde of children, whose mothers, aunts, grandmothers, and guardians drove off all soldiers with the admonition to "take their vices elsewhere." The Heroes decided to at least pay a visit, on the off chance that their young travelling companions were there as well.
As they neared the Southern Stop, they heard a gathering uproar of children yelling. Concerned at first, they were surprised to see familiar faces pouring out of the entrance, and swirling around them with glad cries. Los Casablanqueños dismounted, hoisted kids onto their shoulders and listened to rushed accounts of all the excitement of the past week. Pulling their former chaperones inside, the children began to besiege the women with introductions, anecdotes, and pleas to let whichever adult whose hand they were holding to stay with them. Abuelitas and dueñas frowned, then softened. "Ah, so you are the ones they've been telling us about without stopping for the past week? Well, you can stay, but the children need their rest."
Beds were set up in the basement, along with several tubs. Henri suggested that Franzesca and Asgard have first crack at the water, after which Quinn, Henri, and Cecil scrubbed away far too much road, and let the cares of their journey south soak away. Henri contented himself with the notion that if he was not enjoying the company of either lady in his bath, he was at least resting in water that had, minutes before, caressed their bodies.
Refreshed and finally clean, the Heroes ate a late meal and asked the Southern Stop's proprietor, Miguel, about the caped figure they'd seen at the wall. Was this Vago fellow a bandit, a vigilante, or what, precisely? He'd saved the Good King's life on a number of occasions, had rescued innocent maidens and a scholar or two from the fires of the Inquisition, and had now apparently taken up the fight against Los Montañanos-- certainly an energetic fellow, and quite popular, it seemed. Miguel's stories exhausted, the Heroes took their rest.
In the morning, Captain Joaquin Orduño joined them at breakfast, advising them that they would be departing for San Cristobal that evening, and congratulating them on making the rendezvous. Reports of La Reina and La Muralla were exchanged, and all agreed to board La Venganza in the afternoon. Meanwhile, Henri went out in search of paper and ink. The company followed, to shop and get a taste of normalcy again. Quinn and Henri both spent far too much with the Stationer's, failed to find suitably fancy clothes in the small town, and Franzesca assured Henri that he could acquire a new uniform, untorn and unslashed, in San Cristobal. Cecil wandered the stalls, browsing and eyeing the wares, until a woman's voice caught his attention. "You're Cecil, aren't you?"
He turned to see a burly woman, flanked by two large men. She held a roll of paper, with the heading "WANTED," and illustrated with a rather poor likeness of Cecil's face. He began to deny everything, as the two fellows closed in. Cecil tried lashing out with fists, and found his assailants made of rather stern stuff. Across the mercado, the others began to notice trouble brewing. Quinn set off at a run, and Asgard made for her comrade as well. The Knight warned the two with a stern glare that they had best desist or they would face his wrath. As Cecil repeatedly ducked their attempts to grapple him to the ground, the two men exchanged a look and a nod, then began to shudder. The sounds of twisting sinews and snapping joints accompanied an uncanny melting of their features, and Cecil found himself faced with two large gray wolves! The woman took his shocked regard of the Pyeryem shamans as a needed opening. Her fist struck like a snake, and Cecil fell back clutching his throat, reeling from the blow.
As the Heroes joined battle, Quinn and Asgard lashed out at the wolves, and Henri ran to join them, shouting, "Brujos!" His breath was taken up with the exertion, however, and few seemed to hear the cry that witchcraft was afoot. Cecil knocked his assailant to the ground, driving quick jabs into the face of the wolves' leader. Quinn stepped to the prone bounty hunter, and let his shadow fall over her face. "Stop this at once, or die here and now. Choose wisely!" Perhaps it was the halo of sunlight around his head, or the light that played along his blade. Perhaps it was the voice of the veteran of La Muralla. Perhaps she recognized the tabard of the Rose and Cross. Whatever the reason, she sagged in defeat.
"That man is a wanted criminal!" she spat.
"May I?" Franzesca asked, accepting the paper. "For failure to stand surety to his bond, the Earl Lloyd does offer the sum of Five Thousand pounds for the return or the head of Cecil Jackson, of Avalon." Her eyebrows rose. She passed the paper to Henri. "This doesn't even look like him," she replied.
"It's him all right," the hunter retorted.
"It looks like what we have here is a great misunderstanding," Henri purred. "I understand that you have a man to find. You've clearly made an error. It looks as though we've each given as good as we've gotten here, and I wager my associates are willing to call it even if you are. As for this man," he indicated Cecil, "I fought alongside him at The Wall. If he didn't run then, I can't believe he would run away from a monetary obligation. It's just not in his character. I do, however, wish you luck in tracking down your real quarry."
The Avalon bounty hunter felt her momentum slipping away, and signaled her companions to relent. They took on once again the skin of humanity, and stood like bookends beside their boss. Henri stepped forward.
"Do you mind if I look at that? You seem to have taken a rather nasty blow."
She flinched as Henri raised his hand, unused to or unhappy with being touched. Feeling along her jawbone, he gently drew his hands away, took out a pocket-handkerchief and tore it in two, quickly rolling each half into a small, soft cylinder.
"If you'll place this inside your cheek, you can pad that injury. I'll let you do that yourself, if you like."
She muttered thanks, as the party turned to leave.
"Keep playing with that tooth and it'll come out. Just leave it be and it'll be fine," he shouted back as he saw her still rubbing her face.
Down at the docks, a great stream of children had begun to flow from the Southern Stop. They filled dinghies, johnny-boats, and skiffs. Little by little, the ships filled. Finally, the Heroes boarded La Venganza, and they and their charges were once again underway for San Cristobal. After dinner, Henri took Quinn aside.
"It's occurred to me that I'm not much use with this sword, and that my most effective weapon so far has been my wit. I wonder if you'd help me with a project I have in mind to blunt the Montaigne advance still further?"
The two set to work, Henri dictating and Quinn writing, correcting, suggesting new turns of phrase or flow of argument. As La Venganza sailed north to San Cristobal, the words continued to come, fiery, ironic, mocking, and persuasive. After several days, Henri turned back to the first page of his book, now filled with Quinn's handwriting. He took up his pen, and carefully centered the words, "Journal d'un Traître, par Hereticus Proditor."
"Now, Quinn, all we need is a printer, and a means to distribute this book among l'Empereur's troops. My thanks for your help. Perhaps when all this is over, we can use our talents for something worthwhile."
The pair made their way on deck as the lights of San Cristobal grew ahead of them.
"I'd say what we've done here has been pretty worthwhile, Henri. Pretty worthwhile indeed."
Le Traître turned to his friend and asked, "Then why am I so ashamed?"