Sunset comes early in the winter of the New World, no matter how much the clockmakers say the times are the same. But empirically the kine are still out and active as dusk sweeps across their snow covered cobblestones. The impressive multistoried great house sits, white against white it’s windows shuttered against the cold. Many who claim power have declared it a place of learning, of justice and now only those who’s employ is the law carry weapons within it’s walls.

But just outside it another matter. A small crowd of kine have gathered, centered on two of their own.

The Magistrate’s son, his robes of office thrown aside faces with long dagger drawn the brown cloaked and buckled Master of the Post. “You purposefully delayed my evidence.” “The Post does not know what we carry.”

The crowd seems divided, some wanting bloodshed and others for the night to bring stillness. More than the chance of combat, of bloodshed there is one in the crowd who’s presence excites the Beast within.