William had mostly eliminated any member with any seniority as the source of the rumors. Most caravan leaders usually became so after several years' experience within the caravan, either familial or through succession planning. Each caravan had its own quirks and structures depending on anything from religion, region, travel routes, guild or simply the founding members. As such it was unlikely that a newcomer would be able to run a caravan without word travelling from merchants.

Families and friends were strewn around the various wagons, tents and fires. Surrounding them were large crates and boxes marked with a variety of logos and heralds, representing the various merchant guilds and local lords who supplied the goods. The most common one was the crest of the Carpenter Trading Guild, with a few smaller ones scattered amongst the cargo. A few of the assorted rabble gave a loud and drunken greeting to the new arrival, while others averted their gaze ultimately deciding their affairs would be best kept hidden. A brief conversation with some of the more welcoming members pointed William towards one of the larger wagons, covered with a frame and weathered cloth. Sitting on the wagon’s edge was an elderly man carving something out of a bit of wood. His old, weathered face stood fixated on the block, his knife meticulously carving out small slices forming some shape whose final form was not yet known.

The man turned his wrinkled head upwards to the newcomer, his mouth growing to form an almost toothless smile. He set the half-carved block, as well as the well-used carving knife, down on the worn lip of the wagon. Turning his attention to the newcomer, “Well… a stranger approaches the caravan on a dark night. Names’ Edward, ‘m the leader of this caravan.” The old man eyed the stranger up and down, assessing his worth. “Ye be one them folks from the church then?” There was no point hiding it, the Latin inscriptions on his outfit gave away his affiliation. He simply nodded. “Aye, that I am.” Adjusting himself, Edward grabbed a nearby cup and started to fiddle aimlessly with it without averting his gaze. “What can I do fer ya? Need som’ fine wine? How ‘bout some cloth from the south? I might be able to round up some idols from around the camp.” William raised a hand in protest, cutting the time-worn merchant short, “Unfortunately, I am here on other business.”

The aged figure took a mouth full of ale from his cup, “I am guessin’ ye’ want to skip straight to business then.” William nodded in appreciation; he did not wish to allow his foul quarry to remain free longer than was necessary. “‘Fore we get down to it, I’m gonna ask somethin’ from ya.” William's passive expression remained motionless; his lack of any visible objection was an invitation for the elderly merchant to continue with whatever crooked offer or bizarre demand he proffered. “Would ya mind tryin’ to avoid disrupting our group as ye can? We’re doing our jobs, you see. Ye be doing yours. It’s life, we just don’t want to be caught up in whatever business ye ‘ave.”

William’s passing assessment of the camp was that it appeared to be an ordinary human caravan with no apparent traces of magic or arcane goods. It held the same aura as every other human settlement he had visited in his seemingly endless travels. While the camp was in better shape than some of the feted holes which housed an assortment of vagrants, it had none of the exorbitant luxury that manors of nobles, who prided themselves on their wealth created at often spectacular cost. He would reserve judgment on the motives and innocence of the caravan, but he would likely spare it any thorough scrutiny. The caravan was involved with his target in some manner, but they did not appear to be much in the way of active accomplices. “I am not sure I can promise that. I’ve only just arrived and don’t know much about the situation.” “what ‘ave ye’ heard?” “Rumors, dark ones. There are multiple reports of: vampires, hags and witches.”

“She ought to ‘ave been more careful” Edward let out a mournful chuckle seemingly directed towards an unknown guest before continuing with his tale. “’bout ten or so towns back a vampire joined our caravan. She approached us holdin’ a commundashun from one of our tradin’ partners. She revealed her true self to the moor senior folk, but she asked ta be left alone for the most part. She wanted to practice her craft and do sum tradin’ on the side. She was true to her word; she keeps to herself and we don’t bother her unless we need somethin’. We’ve ‘ad no issues so far, probably nicer company than sum of our own.”

The grim look of annoyance crept onto William's face, it was far too clean and peaceful for his liking. “What was the name of the trader who recommended her?” “Rauf. He is one of th’ managers of the Carpenter Guild, she worked fer him fer a few years.” It now appeared that the vampire had dwelled with-in society for several years and only due to her recent movements did the church catch on. “Has the vampire ever harmed anyone? Bit anyone?” William asked tentatively. The old man let out a laugh, “Usually it’s the oppos’te. I suppose… someone tried ta drunkenly hit on her a few times, she tripp'd ‘im when he got a bit handsy. I suppose that isn’t wat you be lookin’ fer.” If not for his word that this was in fact a vampire, nothing as described to him so far would indicate his target held any notions of paranormal ability. His annoyance at the whole affair began to mix with a sudden onset of incredulity. “You mean to say that for years this creature has lived among us and only now has an honorable man come forward to reveal her damned existence?”

William’s interview with Edward over the caravan’s heretical new member was interrupted by the arrival of a young girl limping toward the wagon and slowly approaching the pair. The girl looked to be around 16 or 18 years old. Her mousy hair bounced with each timid step as she lurched forward. She was walking with the aid of two make-shift crutches. Each calculated motion ensured that her bound and broken leg did not shift, as to avoid misaligning her still healing bone. The old man called out to her “Evenin’ Beatrice, how’s the leg?” They briefly exchanged pleasantries as William waited patiently, contemplating the implications of the prior conversation. Beatrice turned her attention to William, “Victoria has asked me to come and get you. Not sure why, but follow me.” Edward’s expression suddenly changed into that of bemusement and he started heartily laughing, before quickly abandoning his prior conversation as to usher them away. He waved off the pair with a mocking “Don’t keep yer quarry waiting!”

The abrupt change in circumstances forced William to forgo any information which could be gleamed from a prolonged conversation and unanswered questions were left abandoned. His prey sought an audience with him and, while he could not determine her intent, with his honor demanded that he meet with her.