I pull the katana out, shake the snow off him and sheathe the black blade, doing the same with my short sword as I promise them, in a voice only we three can hear, to properly clean them before I sleep this night.

Then I shake the snow and ice out of the Artifact plated armor. “I claim this man’s possessions,” I call out to the guards and drivers who were gathering beyond the warrior and the old healer to watch, “and the Fire-Archer’s as well.” The lady knight still has her hand in the Blood-archer’s hair and she pushes him forward as I begin searching the leather armor for hidden pockets. I find one and pull out a leather pouch which I open. Smiling at the glint of gold, I place the pouch in my own hidden pocket, next to my breastbone, and grab his steel katana. I look up to see the lady knight staring at me in disbelief and my smile becomes a puzzled look. “What?”

She shakes her head. “You give honor to a clan lord’s son like a knight of a noble house, then squabble over his possessions like a mercenary sell-sword. Who are you?”

“My name is Ghostdog,” I tell her, tucking the torso armor under my arm as I drape the leather belt with its thigh plates attached over my shoulder. “I don’t wear anything on my feet so you’re welcome to his boots.” She’s staring at me like I’ve lost my mind so I add, “I mean, I’m sure you don’t need them but one of your retainers might.”

“Ghostdog is not a name,” she throws back at me, “but an insult.”

Is there no pleasing this woman? I straighten up and begin walking towards the remains of the Fire-Archer as I speak over my shoulder. “The man who bought me as a little child called me that to always remind me I’m a mongrel son of no parents, a dog who walks through the Shadowlands.” I stop and turn back towards her. “That I will always be despised and feared by honest folk while the decadent will always find me… interesting.” I turn back and begin walking towards the outcrop of rock overlooking the road. “I am what I am.”

Beside the edge of the rock I find the burnt armor of the Fire-archer and set my burden down to rummage through the ashes, finding the charred remnants of his leather pouch. I shake out the contents onto the rock. Several copper coins, fused together, and a silver piece, along with an obsidian arrowhead he probably had for good luck. The arrowhead’s worth a few silvers so I grab it and the coin, leaving the copper for whoever wants it.

I hear footsteps and look up to see the knight and her prisoner walking towards me. “Shadow-walker means shadow-binder as well,” she says, flushing when I raise an eyebrow up at her. “This man is valuable so I want him bound to my service.”

I go back to rooting through the ashes like a mongrel through garbage, but there’s nothing else of value I can find so I wipe my hands on my already filthy trousers and stand up. “A silver piece binds him for a year. A gold piece binds him for life, but I recommend you begin with a year, in case you end up hating his guts.”

“I already hate his guts.” The Blood-archer looks up as well and again I see the resemblance to each other in their faces.

“A gold piece then, but we need to wait until we’ve put some leagues between this place and wherever I do the binding. I attracted the attention of a Shadow Raptor when I threw my short sword at the Daemo while in the Grey, and the creature will likely circle the area for several weeks before it grows bored and moves on.” I motion at the Blood-archer. “He needs to enter the Shadowlands with me, and while I can defend myself against it, I can’t promise I can defend your cousin as well. If he becomes frightened and runs off into the Grey, the Shadow Raptor will likely go after him instead of me, and you will out both a relative and a gold piece.” 

“How do I know you are not a bandit yourself, who will rob me of all my gold and slink off into the night?”

“Ghostdog will do as he says.” I look up to see the old man standing close by with the Ogra-Ki Tinados beside him. “I was but another face in the crowd to him, but all of the court knew Ghostdog. He was called the ‘Emperor’s Hound’,

I cover my sudden surge of fear with the stoic mask I’ve learned to keep my expression in at times like these. “I didn’t realize I was aiding such a noble personage, or that one such as you would be travelling in a caravan of a mere merchant.”

The old man chuckles again. “Meaning I must be an imperial assassin, since out of favor members of the court never make it out of the city alive. Let me set your mind at ease: I am not after your life, nor do I wish to bring you alive to lay at the emperor’s feet… as he still wants for someone to do, by the way.” 

I cannot keep the look of shock off my face and the old man walks over to pat my arm. “Only those living in or around the imperial city still remember, and no one here would want the reward the emperor would grant to them, if they could bring you there without getting killed themselves. Your secret is safe with all of us.” I nod, keeping my mistrust of him off my face as he motions towards the katana at my back. “Would you show Tinados-Ki-Ogra the ancient sword you were given for bringing new life to the Ogra-Magi?”

I put my hand on Master’s hilt to draw him as the Blood-archer looks up at me in disgust. “You slept with a monster just to gain her enchanted swords? Even I have not sunk so low.”