The crew was panting, huddled around the Well, which happened to be a simple three-tiered fountain. They splashed themselves with its water, washing away the shards and fine specs of glass.

Fritz joined them, letting the power pouring out from the font heal his wounds. It felt light, the energies lacking the same burning cold, that same weight of magic that he'd come to expect from a Well.

He knew why, he was revisiting this Spire and wouldn't gain any further Levels or Powers from it. In fact, the only way to gain more strength from the Climb would be to find some small, valuable Treasures, ones that he could surreptitiously slip into his Slim Pocket with no one the wiser. That, and any wealth he could then spend liberally at the Treasury.

Although the endeavour that was this Climb felt like a waste of his very precious time, he was determined to turn it to his advantage in any way possible. That meant not only growing his capabilities as a Captain, but also acquiring allies and potentially forging friendships where he could. However, from the looks of this group and their already dismal performances, those last two propositions could fare poorly.

Fritz scoffed inwardly, he was getting ahead of himself. First came punishments.

He eyed the crew closely, taking the measure of Nail and Trudge, the two who had defied him most openly. It was easy enough to blame the hammerman for the sudden and serious peril they had been pushed into, but the other man had goaded him, along with the influence of the irritating illumination shining into all corners of the Floor.

He assessed them and considered what kind of penalties and reprimands he should levy.

Already, the crew's elated relief was wearing away. Now that they had survived and they had been healed, they began to turn furious stares on Trudge. Only the large man's brother spared him hateful scrutiny, though he too was more than displeased.

Nail slowly turned from the fountain he was facing, subtly aligning himself with the others and acting as though it wasn't his voice that demanded the walls be knocked down. He was slyer than he looked, though he had the face of an ogre, so that had to be true.

Soon, there would be shouting, and that would lead to violence. A brutal beating for Trudge if Fritz could read the room right. From the sweat beading on that wide face and the terror in those muddy eyes, it seemed that the now-surrounded man thought so too.

"Why did you break down the wall!?" Nail roared. "You idiot! You nearly killed us!"

"You said to!" Trudge boomed back, pointing at his accuser. "You said we should shatter the walls!"

"I did not!" Nail refuted.

"Silence!" Fritz commanded, a howling stream of Dusksong lending a ghastly weight to his echoing words.

The crew turned, startled and stricken by the power of his voice. Even Toby, who had been subdued by it before, paled perceptibly.

"Nail, Trudge, you two will both be punished," Fritz stated.

Trudge hung his head in shame, accepting the pronouncement.

"What? Why me?" Nail cried. "I didn't swing a hammer like this idiot."

"You both disobeyed my orders. You both questioned my authority and my capability," Fritz stated. "You both share blame, no matter who wielded the weapon."

He frowned, then sighed, acting as though Captainship burdened him and that any discipline he enforced harmed him too, however justified. It was an artifice, one that he hoped would ingratiate him to the rest of the crew.

Nail frowned, baring his teeth in a brutal smile. "If that's the case, what punishment would the Shade put on us?"

Fritz tilted his head to the side as if thinking, then absently let his hand drift to Quicksilver's hilt.

Nail bristled, his grip on his axe tightening. Trudge quailed. They expected violence, perhaps a cut down the face like the Nightshark would inflict. While such a display could prove effective as both a warning and a deterrent, Fritz knew it wouldn't gain him any loyalty or earn him any real respect.

Trudge already feared him and the regard of the crew, so a slice would only shame him further; a merciful judgement would serve his interests best in seizing the man's allegiance.

Although Nail was another matter, the approach would be the same. He would hate Fritz if he were to humiliate him with such a pronounced, physical punishment. That brute would hold and grow a grudge as long as the Climb or his life lasted. Still, Fritz couldn't be seen as too compassionate, too soft, so there would still need to be a penalty.

"You get no share of the next Treasure Chest we find," Fritz declared.

Trudge sighed, glad that he wouldn't suffer any pain. Barge's shoulders sagged slightly, the tension leaving them. Nail smiled. It wasn't genuine.

"Not good enough," Bucket said, pointing with his knife. "I want a piece of 'em. An ear or a finger. Seems only right for nearly killin' us."

"I dunno about that," Reed hedged.

"Don't care what you think, Reed," Bucket said. "What about you lot?"

Mel shrugged, Clover looked to Fritz, and Toby grimaced.

"Blades, I heard you're one dark bastard. Don't tell me you're satisfied with this farce?" Bucket protested.

"I listen to my Captain," Toby said simply.

Upon seeing he had no support, Bucket spat, then smiled crookedly. "Was just jokin'. Hahaha, you're all too serious. An ear or a finger? Who would want that?"

Fritz kept the man in the corner of his eye, feeling that he was one to keep a close watch on.

"What if we find no Treasure chests?" Barge asked.

"Then their shares for the Climb are halved," Fritz stated.

"You alright with this, Trudge?" Barge whispered.

Trudge nodded soberly.

Nail sneered, but didn't argue the judgement. Instead, he stormed by Fritz, barging him with one shoulder as he passed.

Fritz didn't scowl or seethe, and he easily slipped around the attempted battering.

"Coward," Nail muttered under his breath.

"Want me to deal with him?" Toby signed, turning so his hands only visible to Fritz.

"No, I'll do it myself. Soon," Fritz replied in kind.

Toby nodded once, then made his way to the fountain and splashed his face.

Fritz turned to Clover, who stood by nervously. "Need help with your choices?"

"No, I uh... chose Concussive Bolt," she admitted.

"Bolt? Not strike?"

She nodded.

"Not what you were hoping for?"

Clover shrugged.

"What were you hoping for?"

"Healin' maybe," she admitted. "I heard you Climbed with Jane Pretty. She's a Healer, do you know how she did it?"

"Hmm, I'm not certain on the Clauses required. Though I have some hints if you'd like to hear them," Fritz said quietly.

She nodded and stepped close. He told her what he knew, which was that the application of remedies and healing grease seemed to be important for such Abilities to appear. Especially when using them on Climbers other than oneself.

Clover listened intently.

Once he was done rapidly dispersing his dubious wisdom, Fritz made his way to the Doors. He wanted to finish the Climb quickly, and he was already getting restless.

Three more Doors, one a circle of sleek steel, one a crack in a wall of jagged stone and the last a hole of dirt and roots. Fritz only needed a brief sweep of his Door sense to assess each of the Floors above.

To his great annoyance, each contained beasts. Powerful sentinels of various metals patrolled the halls of the first; the second was a winding series of tunnels and caverns, swarming with horrible monsters akin to an amalgamation of a spider and a thorny crab; the third was familiar, though not wholly so; Hounds with smooth black coats stalked a thriving forest, eating their fill of snowy deer.

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The choice of Doors was obvious. Even if Fritz still had the occasional nightmare centred on the Great Hound and its fangs, he wouldn't let that fear deter nor dissuade him from taking the safest Floor.

"Another fifteen minutes of rest, then we're going through the rightmost Door," Fritz announced, then turned to see that the crew was staring at him. He had caught them in the midst of unpacking, their bedrolls and blankets scattered around the room.

"What's this!?" Fritz demanded. "Did I say that it was time to rest?"

"We've already finished one Floor," Barge said. "I thought we'd do one a day."

"And take a whole week and a day to Climb?" Fritz said, trying not to sneer. "Absolutely not. I am an exceedingly busy man. I cannot afford to take so long, nor do I have such a desire."

"A week and a day? You want to Climb to the peak?" Mel asked.

"Of course. I already explained we get to keep more of the wealth we find if we Climb that high. And I intend to leave with as much as we can carry," Fritz said.

"Mad," Nail grumbled.

He wasn't the only one, but most of the crew were intrigued by the prospect of earning a lot of gold or a few Treasures.

"Fifteen minutes!" Fritz barked, allowing no further discussion.

In that time, the crew made ready. They complained to each other in whispers, but none of it was as truly mutinous as Toby had reported earlier. Save Nail and Bucket's conspiratorial grousing.

Fritz ignored it for now.

"Follow and stay silent, this Floor shows signs of beasts. It's likely crawling with them," he warned.

He strode up the slanted tunnel of dirt, his boots quietly padding on the loamy ground. From behind, he could hear the more clumsy of the crew trip on protruding roots and curse.

"Stay silent," Fritz repeated with the ring of Dusksong. He continued up and up, then breached the surface, stepping out of the hollow of a large tree and into a sprawling forest.

The air was cool and calm, and carried the scent of fresh growth and rich soil. It was dark, the night was quiet, illuminated by a faraway silver moon set into an empty black sky. So familiar, yet not the same.

Fritz peered around, listening. Finding no Hounds near, he waved his crew forward, then signalled that he would scout ahead.

Donning his Cloak of Dusk, he stalked forward, then pulsed his Awareness. Faintly, he could feel the Stairway off to his left.

He made his way up a gentle slope that grew into a hill. Along the way, he discovered a cave, within which was a pack of hounds. The black-furred beasts lay lazily, their pelts smooth and hale. They were a far cry from the creatures dwelling in his memories, no bald patches or darkly dripping maws. That wasn't to say that they weren't dangerous. They looked deadly in their own right, being both larger and more muscular than the ones in his past.

One hound twitched, lifting its head and scenting the air with a snuffling snout, then it growled. Pale eyes stared past where Fritz stood, and he slunk away slowly.

There was no pursuit. The hounds were less starved, too, it seemed.

Fritz made his way to the top of the hill and climbed up a tall tree to view the land from above. There, he found that the Floor was markedly changed from the one he had braved previously. Though it was still a forest, the rises and troughs were differently arrayed. And there, deep in the dark green, was the Stairway, a pillar of green marble that reached at least fifteen feet above the canopy.

It was several miles away, and he theorised it would take only a few hours to reach, four or five if they were quiet and careful.

Fritz climbed down and returned to the crew. Whilst he made his way through the trees, he chanced upon one of the deer he had 'seen' through his Door Sense. It was a serene, beautiful thing; its coat, which he had mistook for snowy, was almost as silver as the moon. Its pelt could be worth its weight in gold, and if not, well, it was still an excellent acquisition and could be fashioned into all kinds of finery.

He reached for his crossbow, then stopped, he couldn't bring himself to slay the innocent beast. There was also the chance that the scent of its blood could bring Hounds. While he didn't doubt his own strength, he wasn't keen on fighting a pack alone. Outnumbered and outflanked, even those mightier than he could fall, as he himself had proved on more than one occasion.

Fritz left the deer unharmed, slipping away into the dark.

The crew were watchful, but only Toby noticed his presence. The sour-faced man squinted into the gloom and signed a greeting.

Fritz returned it, though he was a little surprised he could be seen through his Trait. Must have been Sanguine Sight.

He shrugged off his obfuscating veil, and once he was spotted, he started signing orders.

"Hounds."

"Again?" Toby grimaced.

"Not the same ones. No blight," Fritz replied.

Toby nodded, though he still shuddered from the similarity and the strangeness.

"You take the rearguard, I'll lead," Fritz continued.

Toby agreed.

Soon, they were off, sneaking through the trees. Every now and again, they would stop while Fritz scouted ahead, making sure that they didn't walk into a prowling pack.

Hours passed without peril.

"Wow," Clover whispered when the tower of marble came into plain view.

Fritz turned on her with a glare. She signed an apology. Again, he called a stop so he could scout.

What he found frustrated him. Although he had expected opposition, he had hoped they would be able to avoid any potentially deadly entanglements. It was not to be. A large pack, nearly thirty strong and headed by a powerful, keen Hound, had made the land around the Stairway their hunting ground.

It wasn't impassible, but there would be a battle. There was no way that the others could sneak past the Hounds' sensitive noses, even he himself had almost alerted them by accidentally straying too close a few times.

At least I didn't step on any twigs. I must have improved immeasurably, he silently mocked.

Fritz recounted his discovery to the crew, then moved to the next part of his quickly conjured plan.

Using some of his newly learned tracking skills, he stalked one of the silvery deer he had found before. Then, while staying hidden, he rattled branches and bushes, startling the beast and herding it toward a clearing close by the marble pillar, just outside the territory of the hounds.

Then, with an apology on his lips, he loosed upon it with his crossbow, imbuing the bolt with Gloom Strike for good measure. Strangely enough, the magic dampened the sound of the string snapping as well as the whistling of air. An odd, if much-appreciated, effect.

Fritz wasn't a great marksman. Even with his Perception, Grace and Awareness, he felt lacking compared to the prodigy that was Sylvia. Still, he stuck his quarry. The bolt plunged into its neck, a little below where he had aimed. It leapt away, then it staggered and its long legs tripped over one another. The deer toppled, dying without sound.

Fritz had little time to mourn the death, the scent of blood reached the hounds within minutes, and soon a rousing howl split the night.

The beasts poured into the clearing, wagging tails, yipping and yapping. The stared around and sniffed the air, then began to growl. At Fritz's signal, the crew let loose from hiding. Weapons flew through the air, daggers, axes and bolts sunk into furred flesh, whines and barks filled the night.

Those hounds that weren't felled bounded toward the crew, fangs bared.

Fritz let his crossbow fall from his hands, drawing his blades as a hound leapt for him. It was swift, though not swift enough to catch him. Not when he could tell where it would bite and claw. He sidestepped the beast and, with a Graceful slash, slid Quicksilver across its throat. Red blood poured forth from the seemingly effortless cut, then Fritz continued, advancing into the pack, dodging, darting, dancing through the melee.

Between beats and steps, slices and thrusts, he watched the battle unfold, untouched.

Toby was a shadow, his daggers deadly. He cut necks and tendons, leaving pitifully-crippled, bleeding beasts in his wake.

Trudge loosed his Bolt Ability, which turned out to be one of stone, while he defended himself with his hammer if a hound got close. Barge swung his sword in shadowy arcs, and Nail cleaved his foes with his gently glowing axe.

Reed was quick and tough, crossing the clearing quickly, aiding the crew when and where he could by knocking down hounds or stunning them with his cudgel.

Mel stood back to back with Clover, laying about herself with her shortsword and loosing bolts of shadow from her other hand.

The other woman, while obviously afraid, cast Concussive Bolt. A roiling, warbling orb of force spat from her palm and knocked down a beast with a meaty thud. She cast again when it staggered back up onto its paws, then again. She struck it with bolt after bolt before she fell from the stamina drain.

Bucket took no fair fights. Instead, he crept around the battlefield, finishing any foes wounded, stunned or otherwise distracted.

From the corner of his eye, Fritz saw a shadow ripple. The keen hound leapt from it, soaring through the air toward the unconscious Clover.

Fritz cursed and activated his Eelkin Belt. The added Speed and Reflex allowed him to intercept the beast, slicing a long gash over its shoulder as it landed. It snarled and turned on him in an instant. But it was already too late. Quicksilver sprang forth, and Fritz buried the black blade deep into the Hound's throat. Red gushed, growls became gurgles, and with a feeble, futile snap of white fangs, it fell.

The clearing was soon quiet, save for a few whining beasts. Those were mercifully silenced swiftly.

Fritz stared around, then pulsed his Awareness. He felt no further peril.

"Anyone know how to skin these beasts?" Fritz asked, shaking the blood of his blade, then sheathing it.

Toby nodded, as did Reed and Bucket. The rest shook their heads.

Fritz nearly sighed, but instead straightened his back and spun Mortal Edge in his hand.

"Looks like it's up to us then, my good fellows," Fritz said. "Everyone else, stand watch. I don't expect any more Hounds, not this close to the Stairway, but we can't be too careful."

They nodded, setting their eyes on the treeline.

"How's Clover?" Fritz asked, kneeling by the silver deer and beginning his grisly work.

"She's okay. I think. Her first time using magic, I suppose. Must have overdone it," Mel stated.

Fritz agreed with the assessment.

"Toby, you'll carry her if she doesn't wake," Fritz said.

"Can't. Jane would kill me," Toby replied simply.

"Right," Fritz said. "Mel, can you manage it?"

"Maybe."

"Let me," Nail said.

"Or me," Barge offered.

While Fritz wanted to think well of the two for their volunteering, he could see the hungry gleams in their eyes. He scanned the others and found he could only trust Trudge's build and bearing to carry her.

"Trudge, you'll do it," Fritz declared.

"Why?"

"Make up for your mistakes," Fritz said offhandedly, tearing the silvery hide from the deer.

He admired it for only a moment, proud of his efforts and just how cleanly he had cut it. Another of his lessons with Therima had paid off well.

With a self-satisfied smile stretching onto one side of his face, Fritz pulled out a box of preservation powder from his pack. Thankfully, he didn't have to use only his own supply of the acrid, itching substance, as Toby had brought some along as well.

Methodically, they skinned the remaining beasts and applied the powder to their skins.

Unfortunately, there was no moonsilver to be found on their bones, though he didn't much mind that, these beasts were plenty bountiful for a second Floor.

"Start carving off the meat," Fritz ordered one of the watching crew. "This will make fine dining compared to rations."

Nail obeyed. While his axe wasn't exactly a cleaver, it did a fair enough job.

The whole process took more than an hour, but they eventually left with their burdens of meat and pelts. Clover had awoken during this time and leaned on Mel's offered shoulder.

Gallantly, Trudge carried her pack for her.

The tower and the Stairway set into it were obvious for all to see, so they made their way without further danger. Soon, they were climbing up the steps and into the Well room. This one had the appearance of a grove with a glowing bush of blue roses in its centre.

Fritz ordered them to set up camp, seeing they were too tired to continue. He and Toby could have kept Climbing, could have pushed them further, but it would be a risk. Both from the danger of the next Floor and from the growing resentment that some of the crew were fostering.

After letting the refreshing power of the Well restore him, Fritz lay out his bedroll. Clover and Mel decided to lay their own out close by. This did not go unnoticed by Nail, Barge and Bucket. Envy dripped from them in a murky haze when they glanced over while setting up their own bedrolls some yards across the grove.

They muttered darkly, cursing the 'too pretty Captain.'

Fritz let them.

Toby secreted his own bedroll in a hidden corner of the grove, as was his custom.

"Who's cooking?" Fritz asked. "Who brought the pot?"

There was silence. Fritz did sigh this time.

"Collect some wood, let's roast this meat while it's good," Fritz commanded.

They pillaged the grove of sticks and branches. The wood was thin and wet; the fire popped and smoked. Still, the meat was cooked well enough, even if it was charred. He briefly considered smoking what they had, but abandoned the idea. Although he had watched Sylvia do it once, he wasn't confident in his own skill and knowledge.

They ate. It was a mostly silent, subdued affair, full of furtive stares and guileful glances. Fritz keenly missed his team in those minutes. Especially Bert. It was too quiet without him.

Soon after their meal, they settled in to sleep.

Fritz lay down and covered himself with a thin blanket. Mel and Clover did the same.

Clover was asleep as soon as her head hit the springy ground, then was snoring within moments. Mel watched Fritz warily before she too started to snore.

Fritz didn't sleep, he had another task. When he was sure that all were in the sweet embrace of dreams or a thorny garden of nightmares, he slid from under his blanket, covered himself in dusk and stalked to where Nail slept.

He drew Mortal Edge and placed its cold blade to the man's neck. Nail startled awake and was about to roar and rage.

"Cease and be silent," Fritz ordered, his tone awash with Dusksong.

The command struck the man like a wave, causing him to choke on his words, then stiffen for a second.

"If you cry out, you will die," Fritz promised, glaring down. "Do you understand?"

Nail nodded.

"Good."

"What do you want?" Nail was eventually able to whisper.

"I want you to follow orders," Fritz stated. "Nothing more or less. I also want you to know that I could kill you at any moment, for any reason. No one will miss you, and no one will judge me."

"Why are you telling me this? Why not just do it?" Nail hissed.

"I believe in second chances. I believe you can be better. That you can make the right choice," Fritz explained.

"Why like this? While everyone's sleeping?"

"A courtesy," Fritz said. "You get to keep your pride in front of the others. They won't have to see your terror. Won't have to see you plead and beg for mercy."

Nail's face twitched, bitter fury bubbled, but he had a hold of it for now. Veins bulged in his forehead, his muscles tensed, and he breathed roughly.

Fritz pressed his dagger harder against the man's throat. He paled and went still.

"You'll follow orders or you'll die," Fritz stated. "Swear it."

"I swear," Nail hissed through clenched teeth.

To Fritz's dismay, he didn't mean it.

Nail was going to be trouble.

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