The two first-time customers at the corner table, were attracting a great deal of interest. The dark-haired drunkard increased in volume with every glass he drained, but the violet-clad man by his side was the personification of Maphis herself. And what's more; according to his companion, had newly arrived from Grunterbad... the mystical land of the Maddening Witch.

It seemed implausible that the Divine might have wandered into their midsts... yet not entirely impossible either. The limits of the Witling Forest were but a stone's throw away, and until the Warlock claimed his bride, he'd be free to roam amongst his people, acquainting himself with a world left behind in the time of the Protectorate.

"But, it isn't likely he'd want to get acquainted here," Vix pointed out to a friend, as they observed them from two tables away, "I'd think the Divine would want to meet his subjects in Relmund if anywhere; not make merry on tuppence wine at the Catary."

"You fail to notice the man that brought him," Ten argued, "A career drinker from the looks of things. If he'd got his hands on the Warlock's witch, then he might well have dragged him along without a thought for who he was. Either that... or... it's not uncommon for those betrothed to be wed."

"You think the Warlock would allow such a thing?"

"Perhaps! It wouldn't be the first time we'd had a groom grace our doors the night before his wedding. A final fuck, or an overdue orientation to help them master the basics. This is the closest place to the Witling Forest is all I'm saying. There wouldn't be anywhere else nearby where he could test his mettle."

Ursa and Delph took no notice of the stares and chatter surrounding them. As the night descended into another emptied bottle, Ursa was teaching 'Piglet' how to cheat at cards, having waved away every interloper to their table that hadn't come brandishing wine.

"The symbols are strange," said Delph, once more discarding his hand with a frown, "This isn't how we write our numbers at home. It's far too confusing!"

"Then Piglet, you must learn!" Ursa demanded. He held a card in front of Delph's face. "This one," he said, "What does this one look like to you?"

The circle with a stick beside it could have been read as a six or nine, but so far Delph had failed to guess even one correctly.

"Six then," he said.

Turning it to face himself, Ursa stared at the familiar symbols in utter disbelief. 

"Six..? However did you reach such an astoundingly poor conclusion? Look! A shield and a spear. Can't you tell?"

"I told you," moaned Delph, consoling himself with a mouth of sweet wine, "They aren't the same as the ones we have in Grunterbad!"

"Fight, you see Piglet? The number is 'five'. It's best you learn now or you'll be taken for a fool should you ever think to buy yourself a house here." 

"It's not like I'd have reason to do so..." said Delph, with just enough sense to lower his voice, "Once we convince the Warlock to send Fiepet and I back home, it remains to be seen what will become of this world you live in. You won't let it end, will you?"

"Isn't that brother of yours going to save us all before he goes? Fiepet the hero?"

Delph's lip began to quiver and his large green eyes welled with tears.

"Piglet?"

"I miss him!" cried Delph, "I'm here in this horrible place and far from the only man I can trust to protect me! I want to go home! When will he come and take me home?!"

Ursa feared he'd be misunderstood. He gingerly patted Delph's shoulder, and called for wine and company.

"A handkerchief too, if there's one to hand!"

Vix and Ten beat out half a dozen others to claim their spots at the corner table. The bruised and bloodied unsuccessfuls could only scowl as they left to lick their wounds.

"There, there!" cried Vix, a soothing hand on Delph's back, "Is there someone you're missing..?"

Delph tearfully nodded, sniffling like a child while Ten fetched out a handkerchief.

"A man, perhaps..?" asked Ten, his lips gently parting as he wiped the tears from Delphin's face.

Ursa, alone on his side of the table, could only grimace at the touching scene. "Yes, yes, it does well to be pretty!"

The rumor mill went into overdrive in the face of Delph's declaration. 'It must be him!' cried one, 'He's waiting for the Warlock to come and take him home!'. 'You got it wrong' cried another, 'He wants to return to this land of Grunterbad, it seems he's found another sweetheart in the Warlock's absence!'. For all the speculation that the stranger was the witch, there were more than enough to temper them.

The Divine did not belong in a whorehouse. That he'd come from the witch's homeland was merely a lie or a coincidence.

"It must be hard for you," coaxed Vix, "To be away from home... without the comforts of your own, soft, bed."

The words tickled Delph's ear; the heat from her breath still lingering. Ten was not prepared to be outdone.

"If it's comfort you need," he said, taking hold of Delph's hand and positioning it on his firm, tensed thigh, "Then you'll find that it comes from a pair of legs with the strength to support you..."

Delph's large, glistening eyes stared helplessly into Ten's. Vix knew she'd likely lost the war before the battle had even begun. It was clear which side he favored. 

Accepting the defeat with grace, she freshened Ursa's glass and moved to sit beside him.

"You must be thirsty too," she purred, "Where is it you've joined us from..?"

"East," was all that Ursa chose to tell her. He was none too pleased to be have been the second choice; but in answering so cryptically, it only set Vix's mind to racing. The Witling Woman was to the east...

Unintentionally lending more credence to the growing theory, Ursa knocked back another two glasses before choosing to elaborate.

"Piglet here comes from further afield," he said, "a sheltered creature yet to be initiated into adulthood. With time running out... tonight could be his final chance."

Was there anything more obvious? The witch was soon to be claimed by his husband. Even the Divine desired a last hurrah before his marriage... but who would be foolish enough to accept? The Warlock would burst their veins for even the thought of touching his bride.

"How old are you..?" Ten asked Delph, "That you are yet to be a man?"

The gaze of the pink-hued beauty was alarmingly captivating, and even a consummate professional like Ten felt himself falling victim to its charm.

"I am twenty-four," he told him earnestly.

Ten laughed, and trailed a finger along Delph's jaw. "You are much too beautiful to still think yourself a child," he said, "But if you do not wish to tell me, I shall not pry. I need only touch a finger to the stubble at your chin, and feel the swell of muscle on your arm, to know that you are ripe to be plucked. Can I... pluck you, Piglet?"

 Ursa's coarse and throaty laugh broke Ten's heavy-handed spell.

"Pour me a glass first, before you lead our Piglet away," said Ursa with a wag of his finger, "I'll be the one paying for your service, so let's start with the ground rules."

Negotiations were wrapping up by the time a lone rider appeared in sight of the Catary.

The Counsel's hurried pace had not been maintained, and after his explosive start, he began to lag not far beyond the forest. Fiepet lost sight of him when he broke past the tree line, and they had yet to reconvene when he was forced to slow his speed. It didn't matter. He could catch up later. Ursa... he needed to make sure first of all that Ursa was safe.

There was still a chance for Rel's little brother to prove him wrong. He had come this way, but until the Counsel saw for himself, he could not be sure he'd been drawn to enter. Dismounting proved difficult, but the stable hands at the Catary were used to assisting inebriated customers on and off their horses.

"I can do it!" cried the Counsel, dropping to the ground with the hard part done for him.

Steadying his body, he approached the two large men guarding the entrance. "Stand aside!" he told them.

"No coin, no entry," came their curt reply.

Since word got out that the Maddening Witch had been spotted there, a growing crowd of locals had gathered. But without the funds to see inside firsthand, they'd been left milling around and causing mischief, waiting to catch a glimpse beyond the heavy wooden doors. In order to protect the paying customers, the magical barrier to keep the riffraff out had been strengthened, and not even a fly could squeeze inside without the guard's say-so.

With the Counsel not one to carry money on his person, the guard could only gesture condescendingly with his hand, to the violently glowing barrier. It was a mistake he should not have made.

The Counsel's swift blade shot out from beneath his cloak, piercing the guard's palm and splitting the flesh above it. Quickly sheathed, he shouted above the screams of pain.

"Open!"

The barrier dissolved, and the Counsel continued up the steps; the rabble behind him surging forward while they had the chance. The guards stemmed the bleeding, but made no attempt to stop him; only the Warlock's Counsel had the power of voice.

"Is it true then? Is it really the witch inside..?!"

The sunken lobby of the Catary could barely contain the influx of curious onlookers. Beauties scattered, unsure of what was happening, and the Counsel raised his voice to the room.

"Where is he?" he demanded.

"Past the courtyard, Master," a curtseying girl came forward to say, "They left towards the bedrooms..."

"No one follow," was his only command. Striding out through the archway at the far side of the room, the Counsel crossed the courtyard, leaving all those behind to inhale the smoke of conjecture.

At only the first room he came to, he found a solitary figure slumped on the floor, a bottle of wine clutched to his chest.

"You're back are you?" Ursa asked the approaching footsteps, "Or have you sent me another one? You..! You... No, this isn't right... no man but him. Bring me a woman instead."

The Counsel's weakened body stepped closer, his dark-rimmed eyes fixed on Ursa as he crouched down before him.

"Get up," ordered the Counsel, "We will leave here at once."

Ursa scoffed. The drunken veil was pierced by years of hatred.

"And what will you do?" he asked, "If I refuse? Have your men drag me away against my will? Lock me up as before?!"

"There are no men here to take you. None but me. I have come to save you. To protect you."

Ursa's laugh broke into sobs. "No Remora to grab my neck? No soldiers to hold me down and feed me my 'medicine'..? Then who will protect you?"

"What?"

The Counsel wasn't fast enough; Ursa grabbed him by the waist before he could stand. On his knees, he pressed his face against the warmth of the Counsel's body, and wrapped his arms tightly around him. 

"You're so thin," he murmured, "I could lift you with one hand."

"Ursa..? I want to send you away, somewhere safe. Where if this world ends, you can begin anew in another. Where you can have the life you always deserved."

Ursa's lips brushed at the front of the Counsel's breeches.

"Min... You shouldn't have come here..."

"If I speak to the Warlock he'll understand. We owe it to Rel to protect you."

Ursa's burning eyes glared up at him. "There is nothing you owe to Rel. There is no debt to be paid. Min... why must you fight it?"

Averting his gaze, the Counsel's anxious fingers dared not to touch him.

"I cannot betray his memory," he said,  "Or indulge in your delusions. I am here as your brother-"

"My brother is dead!" cried Ursa, "What of his memory? It is only you that haunt me. Min... Why do you insist on suffering alone? Has it not been agony for us all? Do we not deserve to feel anything but pain?"

The buttons on the Counsel's coat were impeding his progress. He needed to touch him, to taste his skin upon his tongue.

"Please, Ursa..."

Hot and heavy breaths assailed him; the frantic panting of a desperate man, as Ursa clawed his way through the fabric of the Counsel's clothes. Pale skin and bone lay beneath them, untouched and uncherished. "Why Min?" Ursa begged, running the heat of his mouth against the liberated flesh, "Why must you fight it?"

Frozen in place, Min's tears welled in his eyes. For the first time in a century, he allowed himself to cry.

"I will save you..." he whispered.

"Then let me have you," Ursa selfishly bargained, "If you want me to live, I will live only for you."

"I will..."

"No," said Ursa dragging him to the floor and kissing the tears that ran down his face, "You won't. You will not save me, Min. You cannot even save yourself."

Driven beyond the limits of restraint; fiercely, desperately, he kissed his lips without fear of retribution. The line drawn by duty was irrevocably crossed. They could plead in the everlasting Hymm for Rel's blessing, but he would not face death without knowing what it was to kiss him.