Anyway. He needs to get his sword, and he needs to get Z to leave him alone, and then he needs to murder some people. 

The first part definitely sounds easiest. He’s HUNGRY and he wants his SWORD. These are both objectively reasonable requests. 

Z, happily, agrees. They can take off towards the hall, where there are now significantly more hung-over warriors cramming leftovers into their faces.

This is still not the world’s most dignified means of transportation. 

Once deposited in an upright position, Camillo takes the opportunity to scan the room for Dorothy and Anatole. 

Dorothy is still here, now engaged in some sort of serious conversation with a couple of older men and women at the back of the hall.

Anatole is nowhere to be found.

Does she sleep?? How is he supposed to murder her in her sleep if she doesn’t sleep???

“I kind of want to go look for Anatole and see if he’s all right.” And then murder him just in case. 

He nods.

“…your funeral, man,” he says, but he seems endeared.

Well that makes him feel kind of weird and guilty. Even though if Anatole is a real guy then murdering him is rescuing him. 

First place to check: Anatole’s house. Shouldn’t be too hard to find. 

It’s not — there’s a modestly sized tent-slash-house outside a larger, elaborately painted one, with smoke rising from the top.

It has an actual door, which is closed. And, apparently, barred from the inside.

From the muffled noises coming from inside, there is definitely at least one person in there.

This house has tent components and he has a sword. It is not actually barred to him. 

Anatole is in bed, nude, flushed, tears dripping down his face. He was clearly in the middle of something else before a sword stabbed through his wall.

“What—”

“Hi don’t mind me!”

He is very much going to mind him!!!

He scrambles up, covering himself with a fur, grabbing a dagger from the side of the bed.

“Look, I just want to talk…”

Okay, and murder him. But talking first!

“You cut my wall in half!”

“You locked your door!”

??????

He doesn’t really know how to respond to that!

Camillo has a flash of genius. 

“I want you to help me murder Dorothy.”

…

…

He motions him inside.

Camillo gives the tent an apologetic pat and sits down on the bed. 

“You’re fixing that later.”

“That’s fair.”

Also he doesn’t actually have to do it because it’s a dream tent. 

He sits down, covers his lap, and speaks very quietly. He’s still holding his knife.

“Unless you’ve been playing a very long game, something has changed?”

Camillo puts some concepts together very rapidly. 

“…last night was fucked up.”

“And what do you mean by that.”