A heavy knock echoed through my chambers. I was jolted violently from my sleep, sitting bolt upright with a startled breath. My eyes quickly went to the door. I pushed myself from my bed, the wood creaking as I shifted my weight quickly and rose to my feet. My bedside candle flickered as I moved quickly by, making everything in the room seem to move with me.

I grabbed the brass handle of my door and yanked it quickly open. Light from another candle struck me in the face. Outside the door, framed in pitch blackness, stood two men; Jossimer and James's agent Othello whom I had met the other day on the stairs of Soulforge Cathedral. Jossimer stood behind him, holding aloft a large dripping candlestick, and the agent stood before him in silhouette against the light. Both were silent as I was handed a large bound scroll, bearing a broken Hammerite seal. I unrolled it quickly and ran my eyes over the page.

“Our scouts have returned from investigating the structure,” I whispered as I read, leaving the doorway and bidding the gentleman and my butler to enter. Jossimer went into my chamber and quickly busied himself tiding up some of my discarded clothing, and then moving to shut the windows before assuming a statue-like stillness by them, watching me. “Human remains beneath the floorboards,” I continued, “accursed work of evil...”

“There has to be another way out,” I said, dreading the thought of what was going on upstairs.

“You can't just light a bit of wood on fire,” Foster said to Stephens condescendingly, trying to pull the burning stick away from him. “You need oil, and something to act as a wick.”

I tuned them out as they began to argue. I was locked down here with four strange men; some stranger than others. Realistically, I had to maintain a position of leadership, or we would all be doomed. “Who wants to stay here and who wants to help me look for a way out?” I asked.

Stephens stomped over after brushing off Foster's lecture, saying, “How do we know we can trust these two?” indicated to Els and Moody.

Moody spoke before I had a chance to. “How does she know she can trust you two?” he gaffed.

Foster cut in, “Because we're soldiers of the Silver Gryphon, that's why! And what are you—”

Els interrupted, stepping between Moody and Stephens. “Quiet before you say something you regret, tin soldier!”

“Quiet!” I urged in a harsh whisper. “I hear something!”

They all instantly shut up and grew tense, casting wary eyes in the direction of the closed hatch far above. A moment went by. Finally Foster said, “I don't hear anything.”

“Sorry,” I told him. “It must have been the sound of four fools arguing with each other!”