It was impossible to keep their line intact given the sudden revelation that his medic had seemingly split via mitosis. Without thinking, both Alter and Boats hurriedly back peddled until both Boozehounds were fully in view. Seizing this sudden opportunity, the crowd advanced, surging forward to capture the given ground before stopping a couple of steps away from the newly developed situation. Thankfully, there had been no immediate descent into violence, although the new Boozehound had not lowered his weapon and kept their finger squarely on the trigger. The immediate shock appeared to have worn off, and he was now squinting suspiciously at his counterpart while asking what sounded like slow, simple questions in French. The older version looked back at him evenly, their face neutral but for a gently growing smile. He did not respond to any of the questions, nor did he seem particularly concerned about the mob’s progress behind him.

  “Huh. You didn’t understand a word of that, did you?” Newhound sneered.

  Oldhound simply shrugged as his smile continued to widen. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

  “Then I think it’s pretty obvious who the fake is.” Newhound laughed incredulously before flashing a triumphant smile towards Alter and Boats.

  “I’m about ninety five percent certain that he’s the genuine article.” Boats murmured. “But I don’t feel comfortable pushing that figure up any higher, this could still be a ruse.”

  His hushed words were not subtle enough to go unheard as Newhound’s eyes widened in shock and frustration. “Oh come on, what do I have to do to prove myself?” He protested.

  “Not much!” Oldhound called out as a strange heat haze-like blur with a blue tinge began to cover his body. “The fun’s over anyway.”

  The man’s form continued to fade, his dimensions blending together like ink in the rain until he was a featureless, humanoid blob. A strange, buzzing laughter emerged from it, a voice that sounded artificially pitched down by faulty machinery. The contours of his form began to sharpen once more as nervous glances were exchanged by those who stood in witness. The shimmer subsided, and where Oldhound once stood was someone entirely different. They had a masculine figure, and were dressed head to toe in dark brown leathers somewhere between armour and a fine suit. Their face was completely hidden behind a featureless wooden mask, it didn’t even have eye holes yet as it shifted towards him Alter could tell the figure could see perfectly well. From the top of the mask poked a quartet of long feathers with the same pattern and colouration as the ones sported by the other masked individuals in the crowd. With a theatrical flourish he bowed deeply to both them and then the mob. The gathered locals reacted with warm recognition, and stepped up to join him in facing the team.

  “Well, that clears it up nicely, I guess.” Boats conceded before pausing and asking in a deadpan voice. “What just happened?”

  “Did you notice the blue at the start of the transformation? The man’s a Nerrothyll Soulkindler. Who knows what other tricks he’ll have up his sleeve, keep your eyes peeled.” Alter summarised grimly as he stepped forward to reform the line with the newly proven Boozehound.

  “Oh hey, you know your stuff!” The masked figure called out as if hailing a friend from across the street.

  “That was a nice trick, too bad it didn’t work.” Boozehound shot back smugly but the man did not rise to the provocation.

  “Come now Marcus, don’t be like that. I chose to end the charade, nothing more.”

  “How does he know my name?” Boozehound muttered darkly, shooting a vicious glance towards his squadmates.

  Alter ignored the look and cleared his throat. “I’m assuming this makes you the man they call ‘Ruffle’?”

  The man pointed at him excitedly “You are correct! And you…” His voice lowered, his outstretched fingers curling into a fist. “Are not welcome here.”

  There was a ripple of agreement that surged through the crowd, starting quiet but ever growing in volume and momentum. Feet began to shuffle forward eagerly within the group as their fervent desire to kick out the invaders swelled. Grips on rifle handles tightened and the barrage of insults resumed with renewed intensity. From somewhere within the crowd came the first missile, a small chunk of masonry that landed just short of the team and shattered into several pieces. There was a sudden moment of silent anticipation, tension filled the air as the feeling of being strapped inside a rollercoaster halted before the plunge settled in Alter’s stomach. The order to fire a warning shot tickled the tip of his tongue as Ruffle again raised an arm. The masked face turned to the crowd and the arm lowered, a mercifully placating gesture that settled the crowd into their previous state of grumbles and murderous stares. Ruffle turned to them again.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing your conduct, strangers from far away. While I cannot reconcile the fact that you willingly serve the unworthy nobility, I recognise that you are not yet fully their lap dogs. As such, I am willing to show you some courtesy.”

  “Why?” Alter asked.

  “You stood up to old Bloodyjaw, for a start. You reminded him that you're supposed to be here to protect us, not drag us out of our homes in the middle of the night like cattle.” Another chorus of agreement met his statement, but he held up his hand for quiet once again.

  “But most importantly, when I encouraged you to make a show of force, to have blades drawn and ready, you refused. Even now when outnumbered by hostile forces you have shown no aggression. There are many who wear the same colours as you who would not have shown restraint. Out of respect, I am giving you a chance to walk away unscathed. Be a smart man, Captain. Take it.”

  Boozehound and Boats looked at him expectantly, the crowd began to grow restless, Ruffle did not move, his invisible gaze squarely upon him. Alter had to admit, he was tempted to back off and save risking the wellbeing of his friends. But that would mean leaving Winslow and the guard exposed, which was tantamount to a betrayal in his book despite the fact that Winslow had told them to retreat if necessary. He sighed, eyes straying up to the night sky for a brief moment of peace before they returned to the eyeless face.

  “I cannot do that Ruffle. Our allies are depending on us to keep them safe, I will not breach that trust.” He resolved.

  There was a wave of angry jeering and hissing in response to his statement as Ruffle’s head dropped slightly and his arm returned to his side. To their credit, Boozehound and Boats neither balked at nor questioned his decision, their eyes returned to their crowd and their stances remained firm.

  “I don’t get it.” Boozehound began. “We’re not here to drag your friends or family away. The people we’re after are hostile agents, destabilisers, they see you as nothing more than pawns they can use to sow further chaos. If anything, you should be helping us get rid of them.”

  The man’s small outburst was not taking particularly well as stinging laughter broke out and another poorly aimed projectile flew over their heads before smashing against the right-hand wall. Ruffle shook his head.

  “How narrow minded. One successful raid begets another, and another. The oh so good folk of this fair city would love nothing more than to see all of us uprooted and kicked through the gates to join the mud-soaked mob of gullible fools clamouring to get in. Your precious lord would cave to their pressure eventually, even though his power is built on our blood.”

  The last words of his statement were spoken with such a sharp, venomous tone that Alter couldn’t help but wonder if the man had just coated the inside of his mask in spit. His masked followers gave a loud cheer that was quickly picked up on by the rest of the crowd. Ruffle took one step forward, with the others quick to follow. It was clear that force was looming dangerously on the horizon, Alter stole a glance towards the safehouse hoping to see the young guard returning. Nothing. With a growl he reached for the radio.

  “Team Two, sitrep?”

  “Things are getting pretty ugly over here.” Riptide responded. “The situation is stable for now, but I don’t think that’ll last much longer. Out.”

  “What’s the plan, One?” Boats asked with uncertainty as another step was taken, another missile thrown.

  Alter opened his mouth to respond but a sudden vibration halted his tongue. Despite the danger in front of him, his eyes fell to the floor as memories of the tunnelling Soulkindler pierced his skull like an arrow. He wasn’t the only one to notice either, an uneasy murmur rippled through the crowd and many of them took a step backward. There it was again, stronger this time, and not alone. Barely cutting through the voices was a low rumble accompanied by the ominous sound of cracking stone. Everyone paused and listened. An earthquake? Alter had not heard or read of Jestriff having a history of such events, and while his geology studies had stopped long ago he was fairly confident the local environment held no major faultline.

  “What’s happening Captain?” Ruffle called out, his bravado curtailed.

  “Hell if I know.” Alter lied as a possible explanation sprang to mind.

  What if this wasn’t natural at all? They already knew that the safehouse had a rudimentary escape tunnel. It was well within the realm of possibility that it was not a properly constructed route, unsafe for use. If the Silver Wolves had ambushed them within, who knows how well the structure would react. It could all come tumbling down.

  In what could be considered a cruel piece of timing, this theory was promptly proven horrifically accurate. A third, much heavier vibration sent locals sprawling to the floor as walls cracked and split. The ground suddenly jolted upward and a section of the alleyway between them and the safehouse gave way and collapsed downward. The noise was intense; dust clouds spewed in all directions. There was a single moment of horrified silence as the reality of what was happening settled in. Then the screaming began, and the running.