A/N: Well, here we are again. Guys, this takes soo much longer than I'd ever imagine! But, hold on, I can see the final reach! If you want to know what's kept me from writing (and thusly posting), I've been busy getting my Master's in Media, Aesthetics and Narration. But now it's done, I've got a Master and - well, wouldn't you know?! - I'm going to be a university professor, starting this August. Isn't that just neat? :)

Anyways, I just want to tell you all how thankful I am for all of you who have stuck with this story all this time. I understand it can't be easy reading something that never seems to get finished, but I hope you all believe me when I tell you that I haven't planned on giving up on this one. As I said, the final reach is in my grasp. I have the story laid out, so quitting isn't an option with this one.

But, for now,

enjoy!

A Valiant Heart

Chapter XXXVII

We were all silent inside the now empty and locked tavern, Mr Wolfsblade, Hammer, Mr Beck, Garrett, Mary and I. No one said a word after Garrett had dutifully explained how he had thoroughly searched through every nook and cranny of that office in pursuit of the drawings, but he had found nothing. The Hero had forcefully interrogated him about the search, for he was most obviously not pleased by the fact that I had entrusted Garrett with such a task, but Garrett had calmly abided his bitter inquisition. When not even Mr Wolfsblade had anything left to ask, the company fell silent.

My head was rushing with thoughts of whether John had ordered someone else to fetch the drawings, but who would have had access to Stephen's office? Of course, it would have been easy to sneak past any of us during the hectic month of the Games, but the door was always locked and only we had access to it. This was the only day we had kept the door unlocked, but even so, we had all been present in the room at some point during the day. Perhaps there had never been any drawings in Stephen's office? Perhaps John had been misinformed? My voice cut through the silence when I made my thoughts known.

"Indeed," said Beck, "why would a tavern owner have city drawings?"

"Stephen was… quite involved with… things," Mary said carefully. "Criminal things. I don't know much! I've just… overheard a few things."

"Wouldn't surprise me," said Wolfsblade. "He was deep in dept when I bought this place. He sold it to me for nearly nothing and left Bowerstone the day after. Considering this place's profit, he made a poor trade. Now, why would he just sell off a goldmine and leave town? He must have been desperate."

"Perhaps he found refuge with the bandits just like John did?" said I.

"And he told them of the drawings!" Mary continued.

"But that just brings us back to the beginning," Garrett sighed. "It doesn't matter who ordered John to take the drawings when they aren't there."

"Of course it matters who ordered him!" Wolfsblade snarled. "Whether or not those drawings ever did exist inside of that office, we know that whoever ordered John to take them wants to use them in some way. If it's a coup, we need to be prepared."

"But how can they plan a coup if they don't know the city?" Garrett snarled back.

"You don't think there are bandits that know this city?" Wolfsblade's voice was gleeful and taunting, and Garrett seemed more affected by the mockery than what I had anticipated.

"Of course some know the city!" he spat. "If they, however, needed the drawings, then that should prove their plan involves something they don't know!"

Sighing heavily, I stepped between the two men. "This is fruitless. Whether or not the drawings are gone or weren't even there to begin with, we won't get any closer to understanding this whole thing by bickering."

The two men silenced.

"We need to find that scoundrel John and force him to tell the truth!" boomed Walter Beck as his fist hit the table in front of him.

"Oh, please Beck!" said Mary. "We cannot!"

"Mary is right," said I. "Going after John would certainly be a waste of time."

"Why?" asked Wolfsblade, who clutched his hands into fists by the mention of the name John.

"Because," said I, "he is surely not in any leading position but would do anything to prove his worth, and I would not trust him for anything in the world."

"Pain can make even the most untrustworthy of men speak the truth," said Wolfsblade darkly.

"Perhaps Miss Ariana is right, but I still believe this John to be our best lead so far." Beck sighed deeply. "What we need is a way to follow him. We need to find who his connections are and hopefully stop any attempts of a coup before it happens."

I crossed my arms and nodded. "I can do it."

"No, you cannot."

"Mr Wolfsblade, I am perfectly capab—"

"Let me rephrase that: I won't let you."

"I need not your permission or your approval in this matter," I spat and he refrained. "Out of all of us, I am the most capable of keeping to the shadows. I do not doubt your fine skills as Heroes and warriors, but none of you are particularly… inconspicuous."

"With all due respect, Miss Ariana, but I believe Mr Wolfsblade speaks for us all when he says that we cannot allow a civilian to do something as dangerous as this."

I opened my mouth to retort, but Mary apprehended me.

"Well, that is to our advantage, is it not?" she said. "Ariana is a civilian. She blends into the crowd like none of you would. I, for one, think she is very capable of something like this. After all, she did kill a Balverine."

"Then, how would you go about doing it?" Hammer asked. "We don't even know where he is."

"That is true," said I, "but we do know one thing; we know what's he's after."

"But the drawings aren't there!" Garrett groaned.

"No, but he doesn't know that, does he?" I retorted.

Beck crossed his arms, intrigued. "What do you propose we do?"

I furrowed my brows as a plan was beginning to form in my head. I knew it was rather far-fetched, but we had nothing else. "We have to assume that John's still convinced they're in Stephen's office, but he also knows that we are now aware that he's after these drawings. As long as he believes them to be in our hands, he is very unlikely to pursue them. I say we spread a rumour about the drawings whereabouts—away from our grasp—and use it as bait to reel John in."

"You really think that would work?" Hammer asked. "Do you really think he's that stupid?"

"That depends on who the rumour is coming from," said Beck. "It might just work, if the right person spreads the rumour in the right circles."

"So… we need someone who is a criminal, notoriously against the establishment and yet trustworthy enough to do this for us?" Garrett seemed uncertain, Hammer snickered.

"And I know just the right man for the job," said she, "and he just happens to be in town."

"Who is it?" Beck asked.

"His name is Hamish," said Hammer. "He worked for Reaver back in Bloodstone. As criminal as it gets, but fiercely loyal to any friend of Reaver's. Besides, he owes us after letting him run about as he does. I'll go and find him right away."

"Don't let anyone see you," said I. "Use a messenger."

The plan seemed simple enough and we all agreed. The rumour would place the drawings in a shady caravan by the docks, and I was to wait until someone came to look for them before following that person back to their lair. It was dangerous, but we all agreed that I would only follow the bandit until I knew where they were holding up.

"What do you think of the plan, Wolfsblade?" Beck looked about to find the Hero who had retired to the shadows, silent and resolute.

The party silenced as we all looked at him.

Wolfsblade stood leaned against the wall with his arms crossed with Shadow laying at his feet. For a moment, I feared he would not allow the plan to be executed. He sighed and scowled. "I don't like it."

"By Avo, why not?!" Beck boomed.

"What if this is just a waste of our time? A diversion?" he said. "What if he planted the idea about these stupid drawings just to keep us occupied while they go ahead with their plan when we're not looking? What if we get so distracted by watching the back door, we forget to lock the front door? Then we'll be sending Miss Ariana into danger for nothing."

"I'll be alright," I assured him, but deep inside I knew that he was right. What if this was a diversion? "Would you really give John that much credit?"

"No, but we know nothing of the people he is running with," he continued. "John may as well be the diversion."

"Perhaps John had been counting on Mary giving him the drawings before she would ever tell us about them?" said I. "Perhaps he thought he had some sort of hold of her, that he could manipulate and scare her?"

"Perhaps." He did not seem less uncertain, but he did nothing to stop it. He just stood there, leaned against the wall.

"Well then, it's decided," said Beck. "Hammer, you send that messenger to Hamish and Miss Ariana will keep watch from tomorrow night onwards. Is it possible he would try to look for the drawings during the day?"

"There are too many people in the docks during the day," said Mary. "I doubt he would like to walk around in broad daylight. It is not hard to tell that he's a bandit, you see."

Beck grabbed his chin in thought. "He could send someone else like he did you."

"Would he risk it?" Mary countered. "After his ordeal with me, I'm certain he would like to do the deed himself to make sure it gets done."

"You're probably right, miss," said Beck.

The plan was devised and the clock had struck one in the morning when people started to disperse. I stood in the door, halfway out, when I spotted Wolfsblade still inside the tavern sitting by one of the tables. I saw him holding a piece of paper in his hands, twirling it between his fingers.

"Are you coming, Ariana?"

I flinched as Garrett gently touched my arm. "Oh… yes. Just give me a minute, please. I'm almost ready." I then stepped back into the tavern and slowly approached the Hero.

When he noticed me coming back, he quickly hid the note in his coat. "I thought you'd gone home for the night?"

"Yes, I'm on my way," said I. "I only wanted to be sure you are all right? You have barely said one word against me this evening." Even though I laughed carefully, the Hero gave little response.

"You know I'm against it," said he, "but I cannot stop you."

"Do you truly think this is a diversion?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "I wish I knew how these bandits think, but I do not, and now I have to watch you put yourself in danger because of it."

"I can handle myself."

"I know you can. Just because I trust you, doesn't mean I trust them. There is something strange about this whole ordeal, I can feel it in my bones. I just don't want you to put yourself in harm's way in vain."

Against my better judgement, I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm not afraid. I know you won't be far away. You would never let anything happen to me, would you?"

His face was fierce and determined as he looked at me. "Never."

I smiled and leaned in to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek before bidding him good night.

The next morning, the two-day finally of the Albion Games had commenced at last. It seemed as though the whole city had been celebrating from sunrise. It was nearly impossible to move through the streets and once I had reached the tavern it was already filled to the brim. I caught a glimpse of Mary as she hurried pass me carrying three stoops of ale, catching orders as she went.

I hurried on with my apron and darted out into the crowd. Somewhere amongst the guests, I spied both Hammer and Beck but Wolfsblade seemed to be absent for the day. Garrett popped by once or twice carrying crates of ale, beer and wine, but neither of us had the time to stop and chat. Sometime around dinner time, the Ranged Championship was concluded with a loud singing and chanting out by the town square after which they all wanted to continue their celebration inside the tavern.

The evening went by so quickly I had barely had one chance to sit down. Once we had successfully—though with great difficulty—emptied the tavern, Mary and I sat down for a late but well-deserved dinner with Hammer and Beck. Wolfsblade was still absent, and it worried us all—perhaps me more than others.

"I've had people keeping an eye out for anyone around the caravan," said Hammer. "The only one by the caravan is the owner, Mundo, or whatever his name is, and a few drunkards. Nothing shady."

"Oh well, I shall go before it's too late." I finished my bowl of soup and just as I was about to reach for mu cloak, the door burst open and Wolfsblade entered with Shadow by his side. Behind him walked a man, with dark complexion and glowing lines across his body.

"Garth?" Hammer rose carefully, and when she realised who had just entered, she flung her arms out and shouted, "Garth!"

The man smiled, though not as enthusiastically as Hammer, and greeted his old friend. Wolfsblade seemed rather tense, however, and while Hammer and Garth said their hello's, I asked him what was wrong.

He leaned in and whispered to me, "Garth brings news from the west. Bad news."

"What news?" I whispered back.

He looked at me with a pained expression and formed his mouth around the words before he sighed heavily and shook his head, and from inside the tavern Hammer shouted, "an invasion?!"

The Hero and I locked eyes, and all I could see was despair. If it was his despair, or my own, I knew not.

"Is it true?" I asked.

"Garth has information from the inside, from the Western Lands," said Wolfsblade, this time louder as an argument had broken out amongst the others. "He says they have been planning it ever since Lucien was killed. They know we don't stand a chance. Without an army, we're crippled. Under Lucien's rule, at least he had the Spire Guards. Now, we hade nothing."

In the background, Hammer and Beck had a loud argument about how to best devise a battle plan while Garth tried to reason with them both.

I beckoned Wolfsblade to follow to where we could speak privately and headed up a flight of stairs. I turned to him. "What do we have to do?"

He shook his head. "There's nothing we can do. We have no military, Ariana, no army. We have no defences, no experience in warfare. Albion hasn't faced an outside threat like this for centuries. We have no means of defending our country!"

"There must be something!" I urged. "You could speak to the people, convince them that the only way we could defeat the enemy is to fight for it!"

Wolfsblade muttered darkly, but did not dispute.

"I am certain there are plenty of warriors out there, they just need a leader and that leader could be you."

He clenched his jaw and looked away. "You should go, before you miss our bandit friend. Come back here tomorrow morning and get some sleep."

I wanted to tell him that I believed in him, that I thought he would be a great leader, but I said nothing as I put my hood on and hurried down the stairs and out into the night. The people were still celebrating, but the darkness had fallen and the streets were not quite as filled as before. I swept pass them all and snuck down the stairs to the docks and the caravan where I quickly fell into the shadows. The old man Murgo was just about to pack all his things and close the caravan for the night when two dark figures emerged from under the bridge.

"There it is," said one in hushed voice.

"You sure?" said the other.

"Yeah, tha's the caravan, alright! Hamish said the Hero was lookin' for those papers. Would give a fine sum for 'em, too."

"Or, he could just kill us and take the papers. Wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

"First time he kills us?"

"No, you idiot! First time he kills innocent!"

"Oh… yeah! No, it wouldn'!"

Murgo heard the two men talked and straightened. "Who's there?"

"Oi, old man!" said one of the men. "'And over those documents you've got! The city-papers!"

"Of, for Avo's sake," Murgo spat. "You're far from the first coming here today, screaming about those papers! I don't have any sodding city-papers! Get out of here before you have a taste of my Terrible All-frying Magic Vapour Machine!"

The two men muttered but turned back, away from the caravan. Murgo continued muttering before entering his caravan and locking the door shut. I remained in the darkness, knowing that the rumour at least had spread. How many, I wondered, had come looking for the drawings already? Had John already been here? Was I too late? How long did we have before the Western Lands stood at our doorstep? With a sigh, I sat down, huddled together in a dark archway in the wall. From the square, the celebrations were still sounding but the docks lay calm.

I know not when I drifted off to slumber, but before I knew it, the sun was rising in the east. I was shivering violently in the cold and my body was so stiff I could barely move. My body ached as I rose from my slouching sleep and every step I took was fumbling. The city was not yet awake despite the fresh morning light and Murgo's caravan stood seemingly abandoned by the glimmer of the water. Sea gulls cried above and from the stables, hungry horses neighed into the dawn. I stumbled to the caravan door and knocked gently. Mutters, shifting and a crash were heard before the locks on the door clicked and the door furiously swung open. Old Murgo stood in the door, fresh out of bed with his white hair in a terrible mess and his bushy moustache flying under his nose.

"What do you want?" he muttered.

"Forgive me for waking you so early, sir," said I, "but I was wondering if anyone resembling a… well, bandit, has been asking for those city-papers?"

Murgo's face twisted into a furious scowl as he bellowed, "by Skorm's arse, what's the matter with you people?! I have no bloody papers!"

"No, sir, I know!" I hurried to say. "I'm so very sorry, but I was asking who has been here looking for them."

Murgo sighed impatiently. "Nothing but worthless scum, I tell you. Only the drunkards believe Wolfsblade is willing to pay for those documents. They're so stupid they don't even know that it's city drawings their after!"

My eyes widened. "How did you know?"

Murgo's face softened. "Miss, people in this wretched town talk. Criminals have been after those things for years. If it wasn't Lucien's enemies, it was someone else's. Now, I hear the bandits have them. Wherever they are, miss, they're far from here. If it is indeed true that the Hero is looking for them, he might as well ready himself for a long search."

I grabbed the old man by his shoulders and shook him. "When did you hear the bandits had them? When?!"

Murgo was clearly shocked and had to grab hold of the doorway to steady himself. "Miss! I heard it just the other night! I—I don't even know if it's true, but they said it was pathetic of the Hero to even try finding them! An inside job, they said! Freshly done!"

"Did they say what they were going to use them for?" I barked, much unladylike.

"Not directly, no!" Murgo wailed while flinging back and forth by my rough hands. "They're secretive but gleeful, I dare say! But the city drawings map out every nook and cranny of Bowerstone! If they are going to be used for anything, it's finding hidden ways in and out of the city walls! By Avo, enough people could have the city under overrun in just a few hours, those passages are everywhere!"

We had all been blind. Without another word, I released Murgo and sprinted away from the docks towards the tavern. I burst through the door to find Hammer, Beck and Garth asleep by a table each. Shadow barked from a corner and Wolfsblade rushed down the stairs.

"Did you find him?" he asked.

"They are planning a coup! They've got the drawings, they're using hidden passages to get past the city walls! They can have the town overrun in a matter of hours, from every direction! There can be hundreds of bandits planning to burst through these walls at any moment! We've got to warn the Mayor, now!"