Evening held full sway over Wildhearth now. Other parts of the Silk revved up like engines as bars, clubs and high-stakes brawl pits opened their doors, allowing the inhabitants of Wildhearth's core to unwind after long days cooped up indoors. From financiers to publishers, designates to architects, watchguards to enforcers, the Silk's entertainment districts welcomed the weary crowds with open arms.

In simpler times, Illando would have been among them. Back before he had the whole weight of the city planted squarely on his shoulders he would happily have been out there, blowing off steam in a brawl-pit or draining back pitchers of crisp, dark beer and shining goblets of lasher.

Instead he stood in the mild drizzle, far from the noise of revelry, instead skulking around one of the lesser used entrances to the enforcer tunnel network. The things infested the Silk, connecting to the nearest tram-carrier stations and major institutions outside the Conclave, allowing him and his comrades to deploy quickly throughout the city. This one opened out into a dingy alley a few hundred yards from one of Mellit Haar District's dockyards. Dark storage houses clustered up around him, concealing the unobtrusive hatch from prying eyes.

Another figure came striding from the shadows between buildings. The hood of their thick black jacket was slung up against the rain, and a short, grey kilt protruded from beneath it. Wolfkin claws clacked lightly against the stone underpaw. Illando straightened up, flexing his neck from side to side and extracting a slight crack. Fangs, he felt stiff. A night off and a lot of drink suddenly seemed awfully inviting.

He reluctantly pushed those thoughts from his mind as the figure drew closer.

"Thanks for coming," he said.

"You know, we used to find nicer places to spend time together," Cephia chuckled, sweeping her hood back to reveal her blaze of white headfur in all its glory. "When this is all said and done, you owe me a real night on the town."

"You have no idea how good that sounds," he agreed with a grin. Stepping forward, he swept his paws around her supple waist and tugged her close, pressing his muzzle to hers. She let out a faint whine, claws digging lightly against his chest before easing him back to arms length.

"You said this was important," she chided. "If you wanted to play we could've stayed indoors."

Illando smiled ruefully as he released his grip. "I'm living for the day I have time for that."

"So what was so important that I had to trek all the way out here?"

"I needed to speak to you, away from... well, everyone."

Cephia's brow furrowed in concern. "Illando, what's going on?"

"A lot." Scrubbing his eyes with his paws, he sighed and tried to decide where to start. She knew some of what he'd been doing, but enforcer work demanded a measure of secrecy. Cephia had never questioned that, but keeping her in the dark was not a part of his job he enjoyed.

It also meant that right now she was one of a select few he knew he could trust unequivocally.

"The murders in the districts," he began. "We were following up a lead at the Bonequill Archive. We got some good information from the archivists."

"Then out with it."

Illando's jaw clenched awkwardly for a moment, before he launched into the tail of what they'd found. He joined dots for her between the murders and the images they'd found, the cult verses and strange world that he and his fellow enforcers had plunged into. Her expression grew increasingly incredulous as he talked, but he pressed on. When he finally got to telling her about the attempted assassination, that expression abruptly shifted to one of shock.

"By the Fire!" she exclaimed. "Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine," he replied, a growl seeping into his voice at the memories. "But Noelle's in the infirmary getting what's left of a scattershot bolt picked out of her side. Crazy wolf saved my life."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"She'll live."

Cephia was silent for a moment after that, trying to absorb what he'd unloaded onto her in the dead of night. She clasped her paws together, pressing them against pursed lips as she thought through the implications.

"So you've got someone trying to stick a knife in your back?" she asked eventually.

He nodded. "It certainly looks that way."

"Any idea who?"

"That's why I wanted to meet you."

"Ah." She nodded her understanding. "You think one of the designates is involved with this... cult?"

"There are not a lot of organisations in Wildhearth who could put me under surveillance. With things the way they are, the others probably aren't looking too closely at someone wanting to keep an eye on the enforcers." He spread his paws. "They found out I was going to Bonequill, realised why, and tried to kill me for it."

"So you're sure it's someone in the Conclave?"

"No-one else has the means. Either a designate, or maybe one of your commanders."

"Illando, having a claw to sharpen on wolfkin thanks to Hera is a long way from joining a death cult," she objected. "I don't like them either but that doesn't mean they're a part of this."

"Well, what do you think?"

"What about that pack-leader, Lykas?" Cephia suggested. "He's got it out for you doesn't he?"

"He does, but it doesn't fit." Illando shook his head. "There's no love lost, but that's because he believed in what Hera was doing. I can't see him helping these lunatics, no matter how much he'd like to see me dead."

"Did he know you were going to be at Bonequill?"

"Possibly." He let out a short, huff of breath. "He hasn't been involved in the investigation, but I haven't been keeping it a secret from my people. Someone could have told him."

"Then it could be him."

"I suppose." As he said it, Illando knew he didn't believe the words. He and Lykas disliked each other intensely, but the Savage Fire cultists despised technology. They hated the advancements that had shaped Wildhearth over the years. If anything Lykas was too far in the other direction, placing too much faith in machines and science at the expense of the kin who lived there. He couldn't envision them having much common ground.

Evidently Cephia could sense his feeling. She folded her arms across her chest and shrugged. "If you don't think it's Lykas, then what about other enforcers? He's not the only one who'd jump at the chance to stick a knife in your back I'd wager."

He grimaced. The possibility of another enforcer being involved was not something he'd really allowed himself to consider. Perhaps now more than ever he wanted to have a little faith in his fellow wolves.

Naive, said the voice in his head.

"Maybe," said his real voice.

"It doesn't sound like you can afford to trust anyone right now," she continued. "I know it's a dirty game, Illando, but you've got to dig where it might hurt."

Eventually he nodded. "I will. But if it's not an enforcer-,"

"I'll see what I can find out." Cephia cast a grim glance in the direction of the Conclave. "Cult or no cult, I don't trust anyone in that place right now. But I'll need all your files – everything you got from Bonequill. If I'm going to find anything concrete, I need to know exactly what I'm looking for."

"You'll have it."

"Maybe some designates and guards have been roped into this without realising just who they're helping. I'll put some feelers out – see if we can turn up any mess."

"We?"

"You've got your people, I've got mine."

"Are you sure you want to involve your squad? If we can't trust-,"

"I wasn't talking about them," she cut him off. "I've worked side by side with those kin for years, Illando. Whatever they feel about the enforcers, they'd take a bolt for me. And besides – what you're asking for – I can't do it by myself."

He frowned, but he knew there was nothing he could say to change her mind. If he wanted her help, he needed to let her do it her way. Letting his shoulders sag with a defeated sigh, he met her gaze with smile.

"Alright," he said. "But watch your back."

"You, too." Cephia moved forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. He returned the embrace, breathing deep of her scent – a pleasant whorl of cinnamon and pine that made him feel suddenly at home. Despite the chaos of the world, he would always have her.

"Oslarra made the right decision," she continued, speaking softly into his ear. "You were born to do this, Illando. Whatever you do and wherever this goes, trust your gut."

***

Illando's gut told to leave no stone unturned.

In spite of what he'd said to Cephia, he quickly decided it would be foolish to ignore the possibility of Lykas working against him. An experienced enforcer pack leader would know how to cover their tracks. Perhaps his hate of the new order under Illando would trump any distaste he had towards the Savage Fire followers. Perhaps he didn't fully understand the beasts he was enabling. Discounting Lykas might well paint a bullseye on Illando's back for the next assassin.

Returning to the enforcer compound, he found the pack-leader in the training pits. Lykas was here coordinating night duty for four of Wildhearth's northern districts. Most of the wolves under his command were already out on patrol, but those on reserve could often be found here, keeping themselves sharp and awake in case they were called out to hunt.

A few uneasy eyes followed Illando as he stalked into the lower level, members of Lykas's squad tracking him like prey. He'd deliberately come alone – a risk to discover the truth of the matter. They stood straighter, tension tightening in their taut frames as their enemy arrived.

He arrived at the central training pit in time to watch Lykas violently flip another enforcer head over tail, sending the unfortunate beast crashing through one of the solid practice dummies that littered the open space. The pack-leader's lithe, tall body heaved with exertion as he stepped back. The female enforcer rolled onto her back with a groan.

"Up." Lykas's brusque snarl echoed around the arena. She struggled to her feet, wincing with every motion. The pair started to reset, but it was clear that Lykas had damaged his opponent. Another fall wouldn't end any differently.

"Pack-Leader," Illando called, wrenching every eye in the room towards him. "Care to test your claws against something a little sharper?"

The shout reverberated through the sudden, eerie silence of the training pits for a few seconds. Lykas turned slowly, an expression of mild disgust crossing his thin features. His lip curled to expose a canine, and with a curt growl he dismissed the other enforcer. She limped gratefully from the ring, whereupon Lykas gestured to the space she'd vacated.

"Step in, commander," he drawled. "What brings you down here to the dirt?"

"As it happens," Illando began as he stepped towards one of the nearby weapon racks. "You do." An assortment of armbows, bladed gauntlets, daggers axes and clubs hung there, blunted for the purposes of training, but still deadly in the right paws. He moved along the rows slowly, before selecting a pair of heavy, solid truncheons, each one about two feet in length. A twine grip wrapped around the lower third, while the upper section formed a solid cylinder of reinforced wood.

He loped onto the dusty floor of the arena and tossed one of them to Lykas. The pack-leader snatched it out of the air, eyes narrowing.

"What do you want?" he asked flatly.

"Thought it might be time for your to get your grudges out of your system." Illando took up position opposite, lowering into a crouch and sweeping the club back, poised to strike. "If you feel up to the task."

A nasty grin split Lykas's features and he inclined his head in a gesture that looked respectful. However, Illando saw the faint shift of his footing and braced himself accordingly. An instant later Lykas lunged, launching forward with the speed of a snapping whip. Illando rammed his body forward to meet his opponent's momentum.

There was a crash as the truncheons met, the wooden shafts grinding against each other as the two wolfkin jockeyed for position. Illando rode the initial force of impact and churned his legs in response. His bulkier stature and lower centre of gravity helped him shove Lykas back, opening a small gap between them. He lashed out. The truncheons clacked sharply off each other as Lykas blocked.

A faint murmur went up from the small group of wolfkin who'd gathered to observe the fight. If Illando were to come off worse in this exchange it could damage his standing beyond repair with Hera's loyalists, but he knew something had to give. He had to know what Lykas felt, and feel how far his nemesis might be willing to go.

"You heard about what happened at Bonequill?" Illando remarked as they burst apart, circling each other and looking for an opening.

"Aye, I heard. Close thing," Lykas hissed. "You're lucky little Noelle's got a death-wish."

That roiled Illando's blood and he surged forward again, fainting to the left with his truncheon, before lashing a powerful punch at Lykas's face with his free paw. The blow caught his adversary across the side of the head, narrowly missing his eye socket. Lykas jerked his head away with a spit of pain, lashing his weapon up hard into Illando's ribs in reply.

A bruising impact shook Illando's body, but he ignored it, instead belting the other enforcer across the shoulder with his truncheon, the force sending Lykas stumbling.

"She's got more spine than you," Illando grated, stepping back to allow Lykas to set his footpaws again.

"Trying to make me mad, commander?" Lykas sank back down into a low crouch, baring his teeth. "We all know that a bunch of fanatics are kicking dirt into your eyes out there. Almost gutted you in the middle of the city."

"Keeping an eye on me, eh?" Illando beckoned.

"You're watching me. Figured I'd return the favour."

They smashed together again, muscles straining and bulging on their brawny frames. Neither of them wore armour, just a short, thick kilt and loose bodywrap that would do little to cushion a blow. They twisted, kicked, punched and smacked in a savagely skilled dance around the arena, evenly matched in strength and experience.

It wasn't long before both wolfkin were aching from several smarting blows delivered by their weapons, not to mention the accumulation of dozens of scrapes and cuts from claws and teeth. Blood spattered across the dirt beneath their paws, but they didn't falter. As more enforcers gathered they edged apart again, catching breath and hunting for an opening.

"So you're spying on your superior officer?" Illando panted through the lull.

"I'm protecting myself," Lykas shot back.

"And how far are you going to go to do that?"

"What in the Fire is that supposed to mean?"

"You haven't made much of a secret about how you feel." Illando spread his paws wide, indicating the onlookers. "You'd love a life without me in the picture, wouldn't you?"

A crease appeared in Lykas's brow when the implication struck him. "If you're accusing me of something, Illando, have the guts to speak plain."

"Alright. I already know someone is watching us – someone working for that damned cult. Whoever it is tried to have me killed, and you've admitted you've been spying on me." Illando cocked his head to one side, regarding his rival grimly. "Made any new friends outside the enforcers recently?"

Lykas's eyes flared. "You think I sent that scum after you?"

"I already know there's a traitor somewhere, Lykas. You tell me."

All he got instead was a howl of rage as Lykas hurled himself forward, swinging the truncheon wildly. Illando parried, ducked, and dropped low, hooking an arm around Lykas's legs and ramming a shoulder forward hard into the other enforcer's gut. He rammed Lykas backward, tripping him and sending him crashing to the ground.

Only for a couple of seconds. A vicious kick gouged Illando's side and he sprung backwards with a grimace as Lykas scrabbled to his feet.

"I've put up with you and your lackeys," Lykas ranted through gritted teeth, spittle flying as he gave full vent to his anger. "I've let you dump the worst districts and the worst assignments on my people. I've watched you rip apart packs that served together for years, because you're so damned scared of Hera even though she's dead and buried." He leapt forward again, truncheon splintering as it smashed off the shaft of Illando's weapon. "How much of a coward do you think I am?!"

In that moment, even though on one level it seemed like Lykas was trying to kill him, Illando knew that the pack-leader wasn't involved. The sheer fury that came spewing out of the other wolfkin at the accusation was too genuine. Every fibre of his body reacted like someone who'd just been delivered the gravest of insults. Despite clinging to Hera's lost schemes, it seemed that Lykas still had his pride.

Illando sidestepped and let Lykas thunder past, anger making his opponent's motions powerful but predictable. He skipped back out of range, twirling his truncheon in readiness.

"Someone knew I was there," he barked. "And that someone wanted me dead."

"Aye? Well, I wish them all the luck in the world, but I'm no spineless back-stabber. I'm an enforcer!"

Another vicious, savage assault followed as Lykas gave full vent to his indignation, and Illando knew he needed to put a stop to this before one of them got seriously hurt. He backed off, riding the wave of his adversary's attack until he could find a window of opportunity to cut the legs from this fight.

When it came, he only had a second to make good. The truncheon whistled down towards his skull in a brutal arc and he swayed aside in the nick of time. It narrowly missed cracking his skull open, and he edged closer to Lykas, locking a grip below the arm and trapping it in place, swinging himself behind the other wolfkin.

Lykas tried to struggle, but Illando looped his other arm around Lykas's shoulders, bringing the truncheon across his foe's chest and clamping it in place. Then, in a sharp, punishing motion he pulled back hard.

The firm haft of the truncheon dug into Lykas's chest and wrenched him backwards where he tripped over Illando's outstretched leg. The force of the pull threw him with considerable momentum and sent him slamming into the solid dirt of the training arena. The wind was smacked out of him and his truncheon clattered out of his grasp. Lykas spluttered for breath, trying to scrabble backwards and a low chorus of concerned growls rose from the onlookers.

"Enough!" Illando shouted, tossing his truncheon aside. "Enough."

Everyone froze. His voice rang out and was swallowed into the dark, leaving only the heavy breathing of the two combatants to fill the silence. He took a step forward, looking down on Lykas, acutely aware of the watching enforcers on all sides.

"I'll not be tossed in a cell for this," Lykas hissed.

"I don't think there's any need for that."

Lykas was silent for a moment. He blinked, then a bitter smile crossed his face as the realisation dawned on him. "You testing me, commander?"

"I had to be sure." Illando leaned down, extending a paw. Lykas accepted the grip and Illando hauled him upright. The other pack leader flexed his neck from side to side and spat out a gob of blood and saliva onto the dusty floor.

"Satisfied, then?" he growled.

"In my place you'd have done the same," Illando replied, ignoring the pain pulsing through his body from the blows he'd taken.

A long, silent moment yawned out between them as Lykas held his gaze, the enforcer's golden eyes sizzling. Around them the watching soldiers exchanged baffled looks, some of them holding their breath, not wanting to draw even the slightest sliver of attention to themselves.

"Aye, I suppose I would have," Lykas muttered. He stooped to pick up his truncheon before straightening up again, wincing as something in has back cracked. He fixed his eyes on Illando again, his voice measured and hard like refined steel. "So let me make you a promise, and you can stop looking over your shoulder at me. If I want to kill you, I'll do it myself, and I'll do it to your face."